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Vaux darted away from another pass on the Bryn. Her read painted fighter flying up to altitude to spot new targets. She looked around at the other, watching them go to work that was good, yet still nothing seemed to be attempting to stop her pilots. Why did she have a bad feeling about this. The X-Wing arced over, giving her a better view before.....
"For the love of all that's good, is that Star Destroyer!?" Vaux was quick to pull her fighter away from the path of the massive ship. Whoever was commanding that thing was either dead, an idiot, or the bravest among the Jedi's forces. As she pulled around though, the ace realized too late something was wrong. Her fighter jerked around, and she could see a wing go flying. Alarms blared as she tried to retake control. VK screamed from his place on the back of the fighter. "Osik, osik, osk! VK, download to my armor." Vaux began to flip switches, trying to close the S-Foils, but debris had jammed them open. That wasn't good. And of course it was towards the wreck!
"Mayday, mayday, this is Talyc Leader! I'm going down, and close my wings! If you're near the wreck watch out!" It wasn't long after that that the ion-jets of the TwinTail could be heard. Soon, the red fighter would slam into the ground, barely missing more debris, and slid to a haul next to the larger ship. Vaux coughed, popping the canopy. "You in there buddy?" A whistle went through her helmet, giving the Mando a small smile before she prepped her modified Trayc'kal, Zygerrian Electro-Whip, and that cultist lightsaber she'd stolen from a killed one when she helped get Acaadi
and Kyra Perl
to safety. That was... fun.
Nearby, a Pike had fallen to the same fate as Vaux, except their engine had been sliced, leaving it spinning for only a moment before an armed bomb, already being released when they were hit, impacted the side and detonated, causing the other baradium bombs held inside to explode into a massive fireball.
The tanks were being still being impacted by fire as an A-1 suffered it's fate, along with a pair of T-1s. Mynock looked out, taking a "breath" as he watched the others. This wasn't the end of it though. A blast wave struck the area, kicking up dust and even managing to flip a couple of odd angled tanks that would be disabled from it. The droid looked out, quickly calling out.
"Move! Move! Scatter! Use this dust!" The tanks would all run quickly, firing shots into the last place they saw the Bryn. Tehe flipped tanks were quickly dealt with by the fire, but the others used the dust to their advantage.
Starlin’s understanding of all that was happening around him was pretty limited at this point, even with the Force to clue him in. A building collapsed nearby, and he thought it was the monster, or maybe a booby trap triggered by it, he didn’t really know.
All he knew was that he had his orders from Syd, and he needed to follow them.
He ran (well, if you can call his hurried limping “running”) over to the Comms, which amounted to a couple of guys running a mobile communicator. Snatching the nearest mic away from them, he started yelling into it. “Uh, all units… this is Jedi Padawan Starlin Rand… there’s a Bryn worm creature like in Dune burrowing underneath the Marketplace—and we need firepower concentrated in this area, now! Everything you’ve got! Nuke it from orbit!... wait… blast the debris with whatever explosives you have?... Yeah!”
The boy managed to get all this out before the Comms guy snatched the mic out of his hands, glaring at him in disgust. “Look kid, I don’t know who you think you are…”
“You guys can’t stay here!” Starlin blurted, blue eyes wide. “The city is being completely destroyed—or if the worm doesn’t do it, the firepower of the SJC will soon! If you don’t leave now, you’ll be up chit creek without a paddle!”
Even as he spoke, his danger sense flared like a thunderclap in his skull. The Comms system was suddenly flooded with warning messages and requests for evac. Something big was about to happen. “Please tell me you have a ship!” Starlin pleaded. “Or a speeder, something, anything to get us out of here! I… I was injured, I can barely walk. I won’t be able to get away on foot!”
The Comms guys glanced at each other, then back at the obviously panicked Starlin. A little begrudgingly, but now with a better grasp of the direness of the situation, they both stood up. “C’mon,” one said, gesturing for him to follow. “We’ll take you back to the dropship.”
Just as the devastated unit began to regroup, a lightsaber flew into the chest of a Minor, snuffing the remaining life from his limbs.
"The Jedi is still alive!" called Krarolk urgently. "Stay vigilant."
Yet one of the Minors let fear and hopelessness conquer his spirit. He turned away on bruised limbs and bolted backwards in an attempt to flee from the battlefield. His honor had been overridden by his primal desire to survive, his urge to stay alive even if it killed others. Anger rose in Krarolk's chest at the Minor's betrayal, giving him a new burst of adrenaline as he determined his next course of action.
For the second time in the past few minutes, Krarolk ignored the approaching Jedi to tend to his unit.
The Elite lunged to the side, pinning the running Minor to the ground as he approached.
"Take another step back, and I will kill you myself." spat Krarolk angrily. "We either die honorably or we don't die. Zealots are not cowards."
With a heavy breath, Krarolk rose off the Minor and turned to face the Jedi female up ahead. The Minor stood seconds later, finally realizing his situation as a cornered beast with no route of escape. None of the Zealots had a route of escape. They would either die at the hands of the Jedi, another explosion, or perhaps simply from fatigue and blood loss. Regardless, their remaining combat effectiveness was very limited. So Krarolk and the four surviving Zealots, barely a sixth of the original unit, charged forwards towards the Jedi before they completely broke.
Their bodies were too beaten, bruised, and demoralized to let out any grand war cries or strategize among themselves as they ran. However, every Zealot had basic knowledge of the "swarming tactic".
When facing a single, powerful foe, one-on-one duels or single-directional ranged fire often proved ineffective, as all attention could be focused on one area. However, if the same enemy was struck at multiple places from multiple directions, then even much weaker qualitative forces that would be slaughtered in single combat could rapidly overwhelm and strike down their adversary.
Krarolk and the Major were the first to confront the woman. The Elite strained his taxed muscles to thrust his glaive directly towards the female's forehead from three meters in front of her. The Major emerged about 30 degrees to the woman's right, thrusting her glaive lower, towards the center of her right flank.
Once the Minors arrived, their swarm would be even more effective.
Location: Buried under a building.
Objective: Kill the Jedi scum that buried him.
Tags: Yula Perl
(That Jedi Scum) Osam
(Friend), Keldothera
(leader)
His eyes opened.
The rumbling had ended, the weight on top of him was indeed more than it was before, but as far as he could tell he was uninjured. That was all he needed to know. The city didn't matter. He had one goal and he needed no more knowledge to do it.
Step one was to unbury himself. He wiggled, feeling how much room he'd have to add force to his effort to escape the ruins. It wasn't much. He wasn't a Baedurin, but he had The Force to obey his command. Hopefully that'd be enough to push the thousands of pounds off. Not all at once, perhaps, but at least enough to breath.
Breathing.
He hadn't taken a single breath since the building collapsed. He hadn't thought of it but now it was in his head, he realized how badly he needed to inhale. A bit of panic crept through his body. Focusing on the task at hand, he pushed upwards with all of his might, commanding the invisible power that was The Force to strengthen him. He released a shout loud enough to be heard miles away, pushing more than he ever had before. It didn't change much, but he felt fresh air hit his legs. There was room. He thrust, using his weight to move himself back like a worm. He couldn't hold it any longer. One more thrust and then the Warlock let go, dropping the bodies and the rubble as he slid out from the debris-prison.
He had endured.
Now to kill the jedi. Taking just a moment to catch his breath, the exhausted young warlock limped toward where the Jedi had been.
As much as her opponent thought that he was leagues above her in every aspect—He seemed to be glancing over one undeniable truth. The behemoth had been halted. It was not a line of soldiers, tanks, or weapons of mass destruction that held his malignancy in check. It was one, weak, parasite. A cretin. A lower life-form that was not fit to breathe let alone speak as one of the Draelvasier. She was not wrapped in protective armor. Nothing more than cloth and words. Simple statements, simple truths, that seemed to leave the Bryn’adûl leader reeling with incalculable and unstable rage.
He charged through the ash and rubble as if he hadn’t heard her at all. As if he hadn’t even heard his own words. Gianna well-acknowledged that she had locked herself into a dangerous position. The way he had torn into his own, even wounded, gave a very grave indication of his ability. Not just skill. It also spoke of his character. That he could, and would, do anything to hold dogma high above any moral quandary. The blood that had been shed by his hand, in his name, could drown entire systems.
The Titan had claimed it himself. He was the Draelvasier—This was all his doing.
“Your crusade only brings ruin. Look at your dead. Remember how their blood feels on your hands. Know that they are here, at your behest, sacrificing all and for what? For a purge?”, she spoke from her hiding place. The piece of permacrete that she’d slid beneath served to throw her voice enough that it would be less than easy to find. She tried not to cough, tried not to wheeze. It gave away her very human, very mortal weakness. A need for air. “No matter how many civilizations you turn to ash—It will never end. It will never be enough. Hope, exists. Life always finds a way.”
“You lead the Draelvasier into a war that can never be won. They suffer for nothing.”
His contempt boiled over with a bellow at her words, perhaps at the sight of her replicas, and the flame-haired Knight felt it in her bones. They all did. Each one of her manifestations had the same reaction in unison. Gianna had met all manner of Sith over the years. Supposedly, beings of pure ruthlessness that were cultivated by the Darkside to become some of the most vicious beings in the galaxy. They too believed in purging the weak. She had never met one that exuded so much raw hatred as this Draelvasier did. It breathed in the air around him like a barely visible cloud. It was always there. Like steam that couldn’t stop rising from a pot that had been left on the stove.
Likely, it was involuntary. Partially, at least. She had met many, many creatures large and small with dark dreams and malevolent designs. She had simply never crossed someone that actually leaked hate.
Pure, hate.
“You can stop this. You know how—And you know why.”
She watched the warrior through dozens of eyes while he took the bait and started to swing at the closest version of her that he could find. He didn’t question it. His sentiments blinded him from the truth. From caution. Everything that Gianna was had fallen into fractals that mirrored her inherent benevolence. The light that led to kindness without a price. Infinite understanding. To know her, to be near her, was to be greenery that flourished beneath the light of the sun. Each one of her manifestations echoed that which seemingly made her unique.
Only—She wasn’t. It was the Force they felt as it flowed through her. Nothing more. There was absolutely nothing special about her and there never had been. The Titan wasn’t suffering from her words. Nor her presence. He was reacting to the energy which bound all things. The echo of his deeds. Everything was connected and the Bryn’adûl were no exception. Actions had consequences and if the details of his atrocities were entirely accurate…It was no small wonder that he seemed to be slipping along the edge of instability. If the Force was the “spirit” of the galaxy?
The red-haired woman moved through the smoke, avoiding rubble, going over it—Under it when she needed to. All the while she remained in a shifting sea of her own faces. She could see the expressions of herself fighting back. Never enough to damage him, but delaying him as she had done since the beginning. The Draelvasier Chieftain burst through a solid wall of duracrete and she saw herself fall. Felt the ground beneath her—Felt the pain when her ankle—
—Only it wasn’t her.
Gianna could feel the phantom death of her own body while it faded back into the nothing and became part of the whole. Forgotten. By everything but her. It was draining. Physically and mentally. Her apparitions scattered away from the Titan like the white tufts of a dandelion being carried along on a wild wind. They were there; then they were not. She was there; then she was not. There and gone. “I don’t want to fight you Tathra Khaeus.”
Never had truer words been spoken. Violence only created more violence. It was a sinking path that only led to the very thing it sought to destroy or overcome. Instead of diminishing evil—It only caused it to grow. It was against everything she believed, even when facing insurmountable odds against a monstrous leader with very little moral compass to speak of.
The day was dark. Yet, the light had not gone out.
He didn’t need any help extinguishing it.
Whelp. This situation is a wee FUBARed. Stuck in a trench with Big Show and most definitely the fall guy. She is maintaining her illusions for now....Dun dun dun...
The Bryn warrior Mathieu asked his question, got spat in the face with a mix with black blood and spit before it was killed off.
The Majors in Juggernaut Corp kept communication to a rather minimal, only giving out orders when needed, at this was the case, <"I want the centre to focus ALL fire at that one and the damn robots helping him!"> Ordered a Major in which the Bryn warriors did in an instant. With an overwhelming amount of firepower, Mathieu would indeed find himself to prove how much of a shield he really wanted to be for his soldiers. Molten spike bullets came at him in ravenously speed, directly at him and the Bryn did not relent on firing at him.
While some of the Bryn soldiers at the centre, fired at the Pimentos near Mathieu, in an attempt to either shoot them down or put them in an overload to handle either direct the bullets away from themself or Mathieu. Meanwhile, the right and left flanking of Bryn forces continued the firefight with the Kastolar soldiers taking many out, either killing them on the spot or do enough lethal damage that they would bleed to death. With that said, the Bryn forces also casualties on their own side. However, thank some of the more heavily armoured warriors, some of the shots that normally would kill them, their armour stopped.
Captain Arlon's order did take out a good chunk of the Bryn forces, but so did the Bryn Grenadiers, firing their Bryn Shot, launching high destructive grenades in very rapid speed. Not only was the explosions massive, but the shockwave and sound the grenades made upon explosion were enough to make permanent hearing damage to those closest to the impact. The Grenadiers specifically targeted those firing the Sundae Shells giving them a taste of their own medicine.
Ripping an impressively sized boulder out of the ground, truly showcasing the raw strength he possessed. Argaloth lifted it above his head and as he was about to launch it towards the Kastolar soldier's positioning, the voice of Cas caught the Ravager Brute's ears. Looking down at the small insignificant Kiffar, and just as it looked like Argaloth would drop the large boulder, he pulled back and hurled it towards the Kastolar soldiers. With a toothy grin, showcasing his large carnivorous teeth.
Dropping down on all four again, Argaloth walked like a gorilla, looking over Cas like he found him more humourous than a threat. "What is this? So the mongrels send you, just to watch you die" commented Argaloth with his deep, threatening and guttural laughter. Surprisingly, he actually spoke Basic back to Cas, though the Ravager Brute's Basic voice sounded much more rough and primal, like an animal.
<"It matters not what you're trying to do, you and your men will be remembered... for nothing"> continued Argaloth, though in Draelvasier and with a thunderous bellow, Argaloth charged Cas, crushing the rocky terrain where his feet and hands connected with the ground. Shockingly, Argaloth was faster than he looked, as he swung his powerful fists at Cas with enough force to kill him on impact.
Caedyn had caught the last glimpse of Jyoti Nooran
before the entire street had risen and then been sucked down, the nearby structure caving down upon them and filling the area with a thick plume of dust and debris sweeping throughout the area before the Jedi Knight and Lykos Squad. "Damn it, we've lost Raven!" Caedyn called back to Captain Harris desperately, "We can't leave them here!?".
"We don't have time to clear that rubble with a worm under our asses, Caedyn!" The Commanding Officer snapped, yanking the Jedi by the scruff of his tunic in order to pull Caedyn further back; "Tarlou's on the Comm's and our people are calling for air support, this whole area's about to be lit up!".
"I'm not abandoning them, Captain" Caedyn turned and removed the Joshua Harris' hand from his shoulder, giving the soldier a hard glare; "Get your people to safety, I'll be alright" Caedyn instructed the Captain before turning back for the fallen building, that which had collapsed and lay lop-sided across what had previously been the street they'd been taking cover in.
"Son of a queen..." Joshua hissed under his breath, "Lykos, on me!" he yelled back at the others, following after the Jedi Knight.
Caedyn hadn't been able to see how many people had been caught beneath the falling building at the time, his last glimpse of Jyoti had been from over the shoulder as they'd been falling back in retreat. The possibility that their people were trapped under there, still very much alive, just wasn't something that he would turn his back on. No matter how dangerously unstable the surrounding area was becoming.
The ground continued to violently quake with the great Bryn'adul Servitor Guardian tunneling underneath the Market District; Such massive creatures were tremendously destructive within the city center and it had been no different on Yurb back when they had first encountered the Horde on the front lines.
Jyoti, we're coming.
Caedyn reached out, digging deep into the Force in order to make a connection with the Jedi Master. He was unable to tell just how deeply the debris had buried her people, yet he could feel life beneath the dead weight. There was still hope to be found for those caught beneath the decrepit infrastructure.
While the Jedi Knight fell back upon the power of the Force to try and clear a path through what was left of the building's integrity, Task Force Lykos were forced to resort to brute strength to try and assist with ridding the fallen debris that kept them from reaching the survivors.
A symphony of explosions and firepower rang through the schoolyard. What was once a Schoolyard, bared little to no resemblance of what it once was. The structures torn asunder by the impact of each and every well timed explosive. Blood tainting the once perfectly placed marble, now seeping into the cracks and dirt beneath. Bodies upon bodies, mostly that of Sylok's own Ik'straktors laid barren and lifeless across the war zone. Cries of fear and anger came in like a percussion to the performance that continued to play. Each key becoming more and more critical as Sylok continued to charge for the armored coward. The whites of Sylok's eyes followed him carefully, but the classical thrums of war dispersed. The Monster
lifted his pistol and the screaming static that was released tore through the cacophony of hellfire.
The Draelvasier's teeth shifted, his body following to stay clear of the disruptor rounds darting for his center mass. The rounds tore through the air, only to skim past him with each and every careful pivot. The counter attack slowed him in his effort to reach the soldier with his bare hands, but still he closed the gap. A static explosion in throes of a ten count evaporated Ik'straktor after Ik'straktor that followed Sylok in tow. It was a clear price to pay, in order to survive. Sacrifices would always be necessary, but it didn't mean Sylok approved. He had explained to each subject he would do his best to make them more than effective. Still, their death would allow the Draelvasier that punched through the city more reasons to endure. Sylok felt it, this time a natural weight of his failure to his subjects began to fester deep within. It was anger, the rare reaction compulsively expanding his muscles. Now, in that very moment as feet separated Sylok and Sergei, he was a true Draelvasier.
All he cared about was breaking the metal shell that the soldier hid in. He wanted to kill, just like the droids and other units mowed down his own creations with ease. Sylok wanted to do the same to the metal imposter. It hid the delicate weakness of their humanoid anatomy underneath. Sylok went for the grab, but the quickened state of his own flooded him with a flurry of strikes violently erupting from below. Sylok's arm stretched outward, but he heaved his body closer, a nasty slash gashing into his shoulder. Then another laceration caught him offguard, a surge of blood spitting outward from his left elbow. The sting of the pain caused a light groan to escape him, the anger subdued by his careless mistake. The onslaught wasn't over, another swing of the shimmering blade tore through the sky. The seconds it would take to reach him already spelled out his doom.
I...I Lost? My people...
Sylok's thoughts submerged him in defeat, he would die here. Just like that of his own creations. He thought he could lead his chieftain to a better Draelvasier. An improved Draelvasier; a Draelvasier society that flourished through what they had endured. That dream was all over, his emotions overtook him and now he would pay for it. His eyes followed the blade and like an instinct, Sylok lifted his right arm in a flash. It wasn't enough and just as the tip of the blade began to nick him, a shock wave blew him backwards like a rag doll crashing into the stone cover. The verikast armor absorbed the impact, but a dry cough was forced, blood lurching forward from Sylok's mouth. His vision grew hazy, his equilibrium was knocked off its swivel. Red lines splintered into his opaque eyes from the strain. Sylok tried to correct his vision, the display of ruthless effort from the Jedi (Laertia Io
) pushed into his own forces. His body felt weak, but capable. Most of all, he still lived. It was a miracle and a devastation.
The thunderous rumble that dismantled each and every inch of the schoolyard flooded the entire area in a cloud of dust. The crater made by Sylok's body, gave way to the vibrations from the crashing starship. His body hit the ground and more blood poured from the deep gash in his right shoulder. Sylok winced, his scale-like skin contorted from the impact. His entire right arm was numb, dislocated and bleeding. These weren't ideal circumstances for the weaver. Usually, he was the one tending to someone else's wounds. If he had any shot at getting through this, he needed to fix himself. He rose to his feet and scanned through the dusty cloud that engulfed him. Tiny pin holes tore through it, air support rounds digging deeper and deeper into the ground around him. One found its mark, but by the grace of Verikast, it was deflected violently downward, just missing his foot.
Sylok leaned onto the edge of what was once a stone wall, now only a tiny pillar of destroyed rubble. Then with a deep breath, he slammed his shoulder against it as a loud 'CRACK' slipped his arm back into place. The burning sensation ruptured through him, but eased the pain from before. He shook it, rotating the cuff to make sure. The pain only reminded him of his luck, he should have been dead. He didn't even know what made him so careless, but it wouldn't happen again. The cloud of dirt and grime began to dissolve and his vision finally corrected itself. The image of Laertia Io
breaking through their line of Juggernauts made him sick. He wouldn't allow it. Sylok turned his head to manage Sergei, reinforcements coming to his aide. Keldothera
had given him a chance, a chance to make it right. Without her and the extra firepower behind her, he wouldn't stand a chance. It envigorated him, made him confident.
He stepped through the wall of dust and let out a frustrating roar. In a blink of an eye, Sylok moved his arms in a fluid way, the threads of orange spirit building around him. The force would make it right, large chunks of stone slowly lifted to the air. They would be the first distraction to a greater scheme of his own. The large chunks suspended above him, until they furiously made headway toward Laertia Io
. He would wait for her reaction, keeping her force signature tamed. In response, Sylok shifted his attention back to The Monster
. The solider was quicker than he anticipated. Sylok smiled, the stones shards and boulders that were thrown at the Jedi weren't all of them. Using the clouds of dust to hide the climbing threat in the air above Sergei, large chunks of heavy stone rested above him.
"Die!"
The word came out in a fury. Sylok's arms lifted before he gripped onto the threads once more. His eyes widened and aggressively his arms dropped in a quickened state. The pressure of the levitating stones would crush Sergei as they began to descend. Sylok's tongue slowly streteched outward, the split tips moving up and down in excitement. Once the soldier was crushed, he would rip them from their steel tomb. Patiently Sylok waited to see the fruits of his labor, blood seeping from his shoulder.
Auteme rushed to Yula, helping set the woman on the ground. They were out in the open, she was broken apart, and the battle still raged, but Auteme didn't hesitate to begin healing her. First was diagnosis; and there was a lot. Broken bones -- two dislodged vertebra, several cracked or broken ribs (potentially leading to a punctured lung if not treated quickly), -- along with a laundry list of smaller injuries. Broken nose. Bruises. Cuts. Scrapes. Fractures.
In through her nose to her lungs. Bronchi, bronchioles, bloodstream. Heart, veins, flowing through the arms to her hands... and into Yula.
A warm green light burst from her hands. All the blood Yula had coughed up was pulled away, and the bones that had broken began to set. Every cell in her body was energized and pushed to act; to repair the wounds she'd suffered. By the time Auteme stopped healing the bleeding had stopped as well.
A shaky breath escaped Auteme's lips. Most of the time the exhaustion simply failed to set in, but her surroundings were tiring in of themselves. It was like her soul was weighed down; she'd exerted it too much even in a few moments of power. She slouched.
"Take it slow," she said, half to herself, half to Yula.
The battle continued to rage, the swell of reinforcements from the marketplace that the Silvers now lacked gave them an advantage. The Ra'maks overhead continued to rain down heavy fire, the enemy lines overran as Galak pressed, leading the attack up the next set of steps. The palace at the top wasn't far now, if they took it and the surrounding district they would have a firm grip on the city that the Silver Jedi would find hard to shake free of. Across the City-scape, the Syphons continued to disable the mines that remained and those they could find. They continued, unimpeded - the arrogance of the Jedi showed. More and more mines were disabled, left powerless and dead in the ground were they had been set. A cowardly trap left by an inferior military that knew its day were numbered.
A certain glee filled Galak's eyes as the light of his own Triad shun into his eyes, leaping through the breached building as he and his personal squad flanked the position held, his Chaingun moving across the room in a paced sweeping motion. Enemy soldiers torn in half by the powerful blitzkrieg of the chaingun. They had sacrificed many today to outwit the Silver Jedi, no doubt they had assumed the Draelvasier to be a primitive and mindlessly violent race. But today they would learn that they could endure more than any Human or any other weakling species could understand.
Even as the two Ra'maks above Keldothera's position were decimated by the concentrated fire of the new arrivals fighters - Galak knew that Kelda and Sylok would fight on for as long and as hard as necessary. That was further proven by the call that came from Gordrak. The Emissary moved for cover, debris and ash crashing around him as his heavy weight shook the skeleton remainder of the building.
"Gordrak? Good. Get up here, we've taken the districts and steps leading into the heart of the city. All that's left is one final push my brethren! We will ensure that HIS will is done!" Galak lowered his gauntlet, hefting his Triad back up to grasp it.
Just beyond the walls, more of the enemy. Galak turned to the seven Heavies at his side, there was at least thirty of them just beyond the wall and they had no idea the Juggernauts were there. With a fiendish grin, Galak kicked down the wall; crushing four instantly.
"Fire!" He roared, the eight of them opening fire on the exposed flank of the enemies fortifications on the steps into the inner city. Panic and confusion stifled the Defenders response, in seconds the steps were coated slick with their decimated remains. Thirty dead in an instant, yet one still screamed in agony.
He looked down, one remained with his leg trapped under the wall.
"For MY brethren you buried on Yurb." He growled, placing the Chaingun into the magnetic holster on his back.
Galak placed a foot on the soldiers chest, grasping both of his arms in the grasp of Galak's hands. The weak fles of the human resisted for but a split second as his screams grew louder, a moment later Galak tore the arms from the torso, his foot actually pushing through the ribcage.
"Disgusting." Galak remarked, stepping out of the human soldier as the rest of their forces moved up the steps to meet them.
He enjoyed the moment of respite as much as he could, the fight would only get thicker.
"Osam! Rally your forces to mine, move to my location. We make for the final push."
Chuckling merrily at the battered Perl's comment even as their friendly neighbourhood Jedi leapt to help, Adrian shook his head.
"You'll... need some work, but nothing overly time-consuming. Oh, and what's with Perls and collapsing buildings?"
Watching intently as Auteme did her thing, he stayed more or less quiet, for once. He had never had much aptitude for healing and the path of the Sith was hardly particularly well-suited for it, but it intrigued him nonetheless. How could he claim mastery over the flesh without the ability to heal?
Elegant eyebrows scrunching in annoyance, he stepped back, turned to face the incoming presence of a particularly persistent Draelvasier, and muttered a quick incantation under his breath, a crimson spirit manifesting for a split second before it vanished into smoke.
Either he would have a Warlock soul to study or the creature would prove itself worthy of being captured alive...
... he had learned long ago that any self-respecting Sith always stacked the cards in their own favour.
Yula was no stranger to scraping by with her life. Be it a prison break, a smuggling job gone wrong, or a war against genocidal maniacs. Fortunately, the Zeltron’s luck had not yet run out.
Their voices sounded a mile away given to her ruptured eardrums, and Adrian’s comment was nearly drowned out by the sound of her own blood rushing. Next came the warmth—the familiar influence of the Force as it seeped into her skin, working its way into every cell in her body, encouraging them to replicate.
“Your body is working overtime to fix itself.” A voice drifted from somewhere above her, devoid of the interference from the ringing in her head and the blood in her ears. “Just as your speeder bike overheated when you pushed it too hard, your body will feel warm.” She could hear the smile in Nida’s voice, feel the gentle touch of her sister’s hands as they willed her flesh to mend, blood to clot, and bones to repair.
“Take it slow,” She had said, and Yula managed a pained smile. Further away from death thanks to Auteme’s intervention, she still looked like hell.
“Thanks, Nida.” She stopped to hack up a mouthful of blood, darker in color as it was not as fresh. “You got better at this.”
Her head turned to the side, honing in on Adrian—but more so, the devilish presence that was slowly working its way up from the rubble somewhere.
“I caught one.” She announced, sounding far more concerned than pleased.
The Guardian found success, many forces of the Silvers that had been swallowed by the chasm it had created. But the onslaught was not over. Drek'ma was not finished with them, even from this distance the Servitor acted as an amplified. He could feel the city, he could feel the death and the fear imbued in the hearts of his enemies as an immense and impossible foe reared its head to face them. Everything in its path was gone. The Servitor devoured everything from sand, metal to even the poor souls that fell into the depths of the chasm. Everything melted into nothing, being eaten by it as it travelled underground.
Can you feel it, Guardian? Listen. Listen to how their metal moves, churns as they scramble to fight back in fear of you. Feel how their technology trembles in their grasp as those with sense run for their lives. Lives that will NOT be spared.
Drek'ma was alive with adrenaline and glee. The sheer power of the Guardian was overwhelming, to control and dominant such a magnificent beast could only be described as pure ecstasy. He had control, endless control. This time, the Servitor did not near the surface as quickly as it had before - instead Drek'ma would send the Dredge who had sealed the exits toward those who still remained within the marketplace, the large creatures would use their excellent hearing to get below the remaining groupings of soldiers and attack them, massive pincer like legs several times larger than a human would tear through the ground, crushing and stabbing at the soldiers whilst the most unlucky would be dragged under, clenched in the hundreds of stalactite like teeth of the Dredge.
The Guardian on the other hand it would use its sheer mass, crashing violently against the depths of the chasm it had created. Above the ground within the marketplace and above the earth would tear and tremble as the Servitor caused an earthquake above itself. The chasm would act as the epicentre as massive tears would form, small sink-holes rupturing within the city and the marketplace.
The Servitor would continue to move toward the surface from the depths of the chasm, shifting underground to avoid being attacked via the chasm. The Primarch was no fool, he had seen how the Silver Jedi had fought back on Yurb and he had learned SO much.
It writhed in the depths, moving upward to begin eating away at the foundations of the city and the marketplace in particular.
This city will CRUMBLE before the might of the Bryn'adûl!
Almost like the Guardian was an extension of himself, the massive beast would unleash a terrifying roar that would reverberate through the chasm and up through the cracks. All who stood upon these grounds would know that these were its hunting grounds, they were merely food.
The Bryn'adûl endured, and now they would reap the rewards of their fortitude.
Anti-tank shells flew forwards from within the dust cloud, finally shattering the left flank's Protector.
"Withdraw all remaining Obalisc units to center formation under our Protector!" called Ostak as he lost the feeling of life in the biological shield. "The Brumak can cover them."
"Wait." called the Beast Master who had tackled Ostak earlier. "We should go out and cover them too."
"But.. are you sure?" questioned the third Beast Master. "We'll be abandoning our last functioning Protector to cover the Obaliscs."
"As loath as I am to agree with this Master, I understand the necessity of getting our Obaliscs to safety before they can keep firing. They are slow and cumbersome - if we cover their retreat, we can delay the barrage that will undoubtedly tear them apart unless they find shelter. The Obaliscs have sacrificed much of their ranks for our cause, so we must repay them. Mount our Skags but keep some energy on the beasts, let's get moving."
The trio jogged backwards towards their mounts covered by the rear end of the Protector's barrier and untethered them, climbing aboard and pulling on their reins in one fluid motion.
"Take some bats as well, they'll prove very useful when we charge their ranks."
The Skags rapidly accelerated to around forty kilometers an hour, continuing to ramp up their pace as they climbed up the hill where the Obaliscs of the left flank had been placed in the beginning of the confrontation. Even as the rising dust cloud limited their vision, the deep tracks left by the sprinting Brumak gave the Shamen and their mounts a clear foot trail to follow. In the distance, the sounds of shelling became increasingly loud and sharp, followed by the pulse of the Brumak's artillery fire briefly illuminating its surroundings.
Thanks to the dust cloud, it seemed as if the Shamen had not been detected by enemy artillery, and all three of them arrived at the left flank unharmed. Behind the corpse of the left Protector, the three Obaliscs lumbered downhill in a hasty retreat, with the Brumak standing in front of them serving as a meat shield. Several shells had already left their mark on the tank beast's skin, leaving bruises and small holes that leaked a slow trickle of blood. Still, the Brumak had plenty of strength left. But even it would eventually succumb to the bombardment, unless swift action was taken.
"Let's bring the offensive to them. ordered Krarolk. "Forwards! And bring the Brumak along as well - offense is the best defense!"
Accelerating to about sixty kilometers an hour, the Shamen and their Skags propelled themselves downhill towards the estimated location of the enemy column, followed by the Brumak.
I apologize for not posting one of these sooner~
All four surviving Obaliscs on the left flank cease fire and retreat downhill towards the Protector covering the Shamen as their own Protector fails
The Shamen mount their Skags and ride towards the left flank, bringing along all 40 Draeyde Bats
The Shamen and the Brumak rush downhill at ~60 km/h towards the approximate location of the enemy armored column
Over a hundred years. A century of fighting and he had never faced against a foe so hauntingly infuriating. He felt her thoughts, or perhaps they weren't hers at all. Feelings, dozens of whispers on the back of his neck. His wounds ebbed and flowed, the ache in his mind somehow linked yet a separate entity entirely. Everything meshed, the longer it continued the greater it worsened. He had been lucky with the first, the avatars of the Jedi danced weightless across the terrain ahead of them, his rage had unbalanced him. He refused to allow what she was doing to him to have control, he would not be consumed by the sorcery of a Jedi. He had to change strategy, he'd never be able to find her, not like this. Tathra slowed to a stop, the sand settling by his feet as he hunched low, scanning over the wreckage in silence. He could hear the distant sounds of the battle, like thunder on the horizon. The Titan's duty was to them, those who fought in his stead, he could not escape the guilt of that fact. He should have been there, not here.
He knew chasing blindly with rage would not be how he'd defeat this parasite. Patience, he would trick her like she intended to trick him. His eyes flickered, switching between forms of vision. First he followed the heat signatures of the footsteps, growing quiet as he lumbered through the wreckage. But to no true avail. Then, he found the answer - his eyes shifting to a slightly different hue of opaque aureate.
His eyes tracked vibrations and sure enough only one of them had a heart beat. When he finally knew which one was real, it was obvious to him. The glow, that strange warmth amplified from her stronger than the others. She was lighter in some way yet inexplicably more real. Through a smile, he growled with satisfaction. But he had to be careful, she could not know he knew which one she was. He moved with purpose, but made sure to follow the wrong avatar purposefully - waiting for the right moment. He struck out with his Axe, ribbons of red energy sporadically cast about the place, causing them to scatter and hide.
Finally, she had ducked behind cover as the others scattered to hide. The growls came as easily as he breathed, deep from his stomach as he leapt hard into the ground in the direction of a fake.
"Is it fear or courage that compelsyou, Jedi?" He asked allowed, barking at the sky. But it was different now, calculated like a predator with its maw on the edge of clamping on its preys throat.
He had her now, circling back almost silently for a creature his size. He listened, treading carefully around the debris - careful not to make any sound. His mind fought back against the wave of emotion as he drew close, he would not be conquered; he refused to. Her time had ran out.
Silent like the grave, he stepped behind her. The only audible sound was his breath, the tightening of his hands around the gold shaft of the Axe - his shadow looming over the edge of her. As both of his hands settled on the Axe, it sung with crimson molten vapour, audibly announcing his presence like rising steam. He wanted her to feel fear and confusion as he had when she violated his mind with her poison. His growls no longer contained, he swung for her head.
The air swirled with the beating of thousands of flying creatures around Targant as he waited inside the sunlit corridor that peered from the darkness above. The chaos was almost tranquil in a way, a sense of inevitability filled him. This odd tranquility he felt was soon to fade as one of the Silver Jedi Concord's capital ships pierced the darkness and careened into the distance.
A shock of emotion filled his head which caused the Warlord to flinch as he as temporarily overwhelmed. The fear, the desperation, the pain that came from the crew of the cruiser, as well as those unfortunate souls of the Bryn'adul who had seen their demise coming shortly before impact, filled his mind. Just as he regained his composure he heard the screaming of atmospheric fighters above his darkness. Targant's hands shot skyward as he reached out with the Force in defiance, the fighters strafed the Bryn'adul in the far outskirts with their laser cannons. When it came time for Targant's experience with the close air support he was ready; as the bolts zipped through the air towards Targant they began to lose velocity. His teeth clenched, his jaw muscles flexing. The lasers were suspended just meters from Targant and his Drael Skag as they came under the full influence of the Force Stasis. With a roar of anger and effort he brought his arms downwards and the right which caused the lasers to slam into the ground several meters away.
The resulting explosion peppered both Targant and his mouth with stone and dust as he lifted his arm to cover his eyes. The fighters shrieked into the distance, pulling up and over the darkness and into the light once more. Up until now the Silver Jedi were enemies out of his obligation to the Chieftain, however this rivalry became personal. His armies had been assaulted, his kin slain en masse through desperate tactics, and now he himself had been assaulted. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as his muscles strained. "RRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" he bellowed as he slammed his heels into the behemoth beneath him. The Drael Skag roared in synchronization with Targant as if they were bound and launched forwards into a speedy gallop towards the Outskirts proper. He would not be undone by the likes of the Jedi, he was Targant Howlain, Warlord of the Chieftain.
The Drael Skag launched itself into the Outskirts, dodging laser cannon fire among other projectiles on their approach. Soon Targant entered the Outskirts and began to engage his enemy's forces. With darkness above and within, rage consumed his heart. Those with sensitivity to the Force in his vicinity (Mathieu Brion
et. al) may begin to feel a consolidation of the Darkside: of fear, despair, confusion, anguish. Visible swirling darkness that spiraled towards and around the Warlord. In Targant's rage he was calling upon all of the negative emotions in his heart and those that flooded his mind from the bloody war. He was beginning to conjure an ancient Darkside magic: Waves of Darkness.
Forces: 63 TGC Commandos, 63 TCD-1Ds, and 15 TCD-2Ds Theme:
Sergei had watched intently as he looked at one of his opponents fly backwards in the force wave that had enveloped them both. His droids having drawn his second opponent's gaze gave him a chance to flick the cylinder pack out of his M-18 pistol, and load a fresh pack. His droid "John" would keep that one busy, long enough for Sergei to deal with this threat. And as he watched the Bryn (Sylok'Vanari
) before him begin stirring and begin to stand Sergei would mutter to no one but himself in particular.
"Get up, that's it get up," he said to the bug.
"Little piece of advice for you monster," he would begin much louder in his helmet speakers "The real measure of someone's strength, the reason why you will never win," Sergei began calmly walking towards the Bryn. At least to most onlookers it would seem calm.
But to the Bryn before Sergei, he wouldn't need the force to see the absolute rage possessing this man. The absolute intent dripping from his posture, the way he held his sword, and now had holstered his pistol.
"The real measure of someone's strength is how many times they are hit, and get back up. How many times they are threatened with annihilation, and survive. And until you understand that, you will not win,"
And as the Bryn finally stood all the way up, Sergei would take one more step before launching himself forward at the foe. Encased in metal, cloth, polymers, and armed with the finest weapons the galaxy could provide, Sergei's soul raged. He became a host for his lost comrades' vengeance. A beacon to all that no matter when, or where, or what stood before the good people of the galaxy, someone would stand before it. Even alone, this mortal man would stare death in the face, and dare death itself to make him move. Sergei had fought Sith spawn five times his own size. He'd been on a planet that was overtaken by the dead, tasked with doing the impossible. His men had made the ultimate sacrifice to stop atrocities time and again. Sergei and his Wolves were the flaming sword of justice against the blackness of chaos that threatened to overtake the galaxy.
Sergei would charge once again at the Bryn with fire in his eyes, Durasteel in his heart, and vengeance in his veins. His blade would whistle through the air as he swung once again, going for a decapitation first strike, spinning and bring his blade low before following up with an uppercut from the beast's hip to shoulder. He would then follow with a back handed slash from this attack, before attempting several close range stabs at the Bryn before him. Sergei would feel the familiar rush of adrenaline as his body was now fully partook in the heat of battle. Time itself seemed like it was slowing, any fatigue from previous training and exertions seemed to just melt away. There was only him, and the field around him as he drank in the information from his virtual reality suite. His body moved with the grace of a dancer, paired with the rage and malice of a killer.
Nearby his droids would duck to the side as the fire was returned towards them, (Keldothera
)'s squad blasting one of the TCD-1Ds with its weapons forcing them to begin exchanging fire with the Bryn combatants. "John", Sergei's personal TCD-1D, immediately saw his charge, and more importantly friend in close combat with the Bryn force user and was tempted to break to assist. However, this situation demanded he deal with it first, as all of his predictive algorithms showed that he had to win this fight first.
Fine then, if the Bryn were going to tear one of them in half, he'd bring their cover down around their ears.
John would key into the local channel for TGC forces, first thinking to select one of the TCD-2Ds to fire its cannons onto their position. But that wouldn't do as it would just give these Bryn more opportunities to reorg and possibly withdraw. So he radioed a nearby Commando with a MAAWS Mod 2.
"Demon 1-5, request heavy ordinance, MAAWS, you have November Echo loaded yes?"
"Aye,"
"Fire on this location,"
Before Keldothera
eyes she'd see the Droid peek around cover with the other three, but while the other two went cyclic with their machine guns, John didn't fire at all. Instead, she'd see a little red dot appear right on top of the piece of cover she was hiding behind. Which, you know, wasn't ominous at all.
"With pleasure, fire in the hole,"
Sergei's droid would smile if it could have as he tracked the TGC Commando take flight, taking a flanking position as he quickly lined up the shot, and fired. A single 95mm High Explosive round would roar as it was fired out of the recoilless rifle and slammed into the ground just in front of the Bryn's position, and detonated as it hit. The three remaining droids ducked back behind cover as they avoided the shockwave of the blast. He could see the chaos around them as this place was becoming utterly destroyed. The Bryn were tenacious and the Commandos alongside the newly risen dead and remaining SJC were just as, both sides refusing to back down from this mutual annihilation. The Rhi'vaks were being extremely disadvantaged due to the cramped nature not allowing them to remain out of melee range anymore as most of the buildings had been brought down by now. And those still standing in the immediate vicinity were only just. In places a TCD-2D would cleave a Juggernaut in two vertically, meanwhile another was torn to pieces by a pair of them. Commados were now utilizing M-18 sidearms and their swords, cutting down and shooting a path through the chaos as those that weren't able to make headway were massacred. It was absolute chaos. And yet, here was going much better for the Wolves than Yurb. Here their enemy was trapped in these confined quarters with them. Here, their numbers meant nothing. Sergei and the members of The Ghost Company would exact a bloody vengeance on the Bryn. John would wait another half second before giving the signal to the other two droids as all three once again peeked out of cover, not even waiting for the dust to clear from the blast before going cyclic on the Bryn's position. 10mm machine gun bullets would spray across their position with 14mm Armor Piercing darts being sprayed in between as John and the other two droids displayed their lethal intent.
Meanwhile, outside of the heaviest fighting, the 240 men and women of The Dire Wolves Security Forces were now pushing into the city. Each squad of ten was moving up a street, moving in a double wedge, as they advanced on the rear guard of the Bryn forces. Above Aleksandr Kerensky would watch in anticipation as he prepared the reinforcements from on high. Their plan was simple, engage the Bryn rear guard, find out where the heaviest concentrations of Bryn were, and drop more TDW Commandos and droids on their position to sow chaos through their ranks. Sergei had done his duty in tying up many of the Bryn at the schoolyard, and now The Dire Wolves would see this through. They would encircle and then envelope the Bryn's positions, catching them in a crossfire, and then overwhelming them. It would take two minutes for them to reach the rear guard of (Galak
)'s forces, the only warning the enemy would receive was two FI-LWMMGs followed by two 95mm MAAWS rounds on their position. Hope had loaded more reinforcements into its guns, a pair of TCD-2Ds and 8 TDW Commandos waiting to see what this initial contact would result in. Kerensky couldn't wait to see what the Bryn would do in person, as he'd read the reports, but there was an old saying in his mind. Reading about a kiss and experiencing one were two, very, very different things.
Red Squadron having seen the two Ra'maks assaulting Sergei's position were dealt with, immediately pulled off, calling Winchester before returning to the Hope to rearm and refuel. As they came in one after another, each fighter craft would quickly taxi out of the way for the next, allowing for an expedient landing. And once aboard, weapons' bays would open, and ground crews would race out to the vessels with missile racks and belts of ammunition. Like ants these men and women worked, lifting missiles into place for the roller to latch onto them, and rotate for the next one, replacing spent and partially gone belts of ammo with fresh belts, and attaching fuel lines. Gold and Black Squadrons would have to hold out while they could, and the ground crews knew the clock was ticking. Not a single second could be wasted.
The fight was eventually disturbed from above by the sound of a loud impact and explosion. It wouldn’t have been so disturbing yet, but at that moment the whole mine was shaking as well. Smaller stones fell from the ceiling, dust descended everywhere. Reidun felt the tremor even under her feet, and for the first time in her life, it sparked fear in her. She was not in the usual battlefield, but in a completely foreign environment underground, she had not fought in such a place before.
At that moment, she hit her opponent with the elbow and not only did the Jedi “fly” backwards, but even Reidun stepped further away. Her knees faltered a little as she stepped on her feet, but if she takes care, it won’t take long to recover if she survives the fight. The little girl looked at the ceiling several times, now she hadn't launched another attack, and she was ready to escape if the place collapsed.
When the invisible attack reached her knee, she exclaimed in pain, now she really shouldn’t have picked up any more injuries on that foot. And the Jedi continued to attack. Reidun came up with a very risky plan. That is, she did not invent it, but wanted to implement it. When the man got close enough to her, she let go of one of her words, letting it fall to the ground. She didn't move away from the blow, only with her head so that the man wouldn't hit her face completely.
The hand hit her chin, Reidun felt the sound as the bone cracked; she may have been smaller than her peers, but she was also a pretty massive piece, so her jaw didn't break. Then, with her free hand, she tried to grab the man's arm and pull the Jedi toward her. She then placed her other sword in front of her and hoped she would be able to skewer her opponent with the blade. And she wanted to crown that with another headbutt, so she tried this too again.
The march continued with increasing speed and efficacy. While they'd at first simply moved around whatever structures were in their way, the hybrid had decided that it was far too slow to maneuver the entire battle group through such narrow alleyways. As an answer to the logistical issue, he had commanded several Juggernauts in the front of their train to smash down any fortifications that rose in opposition to their movement. The massive strength of the Baedurin manifested itself in the annihilation of walls and hallways, and in the obliteration of vehicles and other roadway obstructions.
Osam pushed the group onwards even as the occasional band of Rangers confronted them, at times not bothering even to engage in battle with these bands. They were utterly irrelevant, he considered, driving the bloodthirsty group onwards with shrieks of encouragement and outrage. Certain threats, those above them were dealt with through the dispatch of Risen squadrons, or else through the collapse of structures that they'd passed through. Foundations were rent asunder by the march, collapse marking their presence for all to see.
The Major heard the voice of his friend shouting for him to rejoin his forces, to rally together for their final offensive, and the hybrid redoubled his efforts. "The Emissary himself requests our very presence!" He shouted above the forces, hauling himself part-way up the remnant of a construct so as to better address the forces under his command, directing them to their destination with sharp gesticulations and sharper words. To their credit, the Juggernauts and the Risen and all of the others with them were making significant speed. They'd arrive very shortly indeed.
In a mere handful of minutes, the forces of Galak became visible in the distance, albeit primarily hidden by the debris and detritus of the area. Of course, the presence of the Marketplace's battlegroup - the portion that had not been with General Keldothera in her immediate guard - had perhaps not been anticipated by the flanking forces of the Dire Wolves. They'd been organized in a long line to make movement more straightforward and simplistic, but now that enemy forces had been detected beginning an encircling maneuver around their compatriots, they began to break their formation, starting to spread out and take pot-shots at whatever forces made themselves visible.
Like a great spear, the forces of the Marketplace now jutted out of the back of Galak's own army-group, securing their rear to the best of their capability, and gradually beginning to meld back into a more adequate fighting form.
"We are with you now, Emissary. We've begun light engagement here near your rear-flank." He paused, directing his attention to a fireteam of Juggernauts, and circling an enemy squad with his finger. "Shoot when I snap. All at once." He commanded the Baedurin, waiting a moment for the enemy squad to draw a bit closer before giving his signal. At once a half-dozen guns flared, projectiles lighting up the air between the two groups as a volley slammed towards them.
"We are ready for the final push. For our endurance to be rewarded with victory."
Using the Force, she pulled the Lightsaber back into her hand and stared down the group of Brynadul forces, inhaling deeply, she was currently outnumbered and they were rushing towards her. Her training as a Jedi and as an Echani meant that she could deal with the odds against her but Kat would rather make things more even playing field. Her weariness meant that she couldn't last long in a fight, she needed to just hold out long enough for someone, anyone to find her and help out. There had to be a ranger nearby and she just had to wait it out. For now, Kat had to focus on the Brynadul forces racing towards her right now, she needed to figure out how to approach this situation. Her hand reached out and blasted at one of the soldiers who reached her while blocking the attack from the second soldier, one clearly in the lead of this ragtag band.
Jumping and somersaulting in the air, Kat moved back to produce a little more space as she then launched a heavy looking rock at one of the soldiers. Her breathing was getting ragged, her strain was real, the burn in her lungs told her that she was working herself too hard. However, she couldn't give up yet, she needed to continue fighting. Holding her Lightsaber tightly, she rushed forward and jumped high, using Ataru to dance around and keep her movements fluid and never remaining still. Her attacks followed jumps, or incorporated with her gymnastic abilities with her legs increasing her acrobatic skills without the Force, saving energy.
This couldn't last forever though, her cybernetics and repulsors in her legs could only last so long. Kat needed to focus on surviving, that was all she needed to do. Survive. Her mind was focused on nothing but dodging, slashing and ensuring that she didn't get mortally wounded.
Primal Architect
Tathra Khaeus
Primarch Drek'ma
Caedyn Arenais @]Krarolk T'manu Rhea
Galak
Mathieu Brion
Cadere
Targant Howlain
Caden Evesa
Sasmay Cull
Acaadi
and
Kyra Perl
to safety. That was... fun.
