Campaign It Will Burn | TB Campaign of SJC held Dandoran, Nar Chunna, Nar Kreeta, Kintan & Klantooine

[Galak]

Objective A: Kreeta City

Allies; Primarch Drek'ma | Targant Howlain | Osam | Keldothera | Gordrak | Tathra Khaeus | Sylok'Vanari | Kelmor | Krarolk T'manu | Ostak Cl'mana | Argaloth |
Enemies: Jyoti Nooran | Caedyn Arenais | The Monster |
Gear: Triad Chaingun | Verikast Armour | Cleaver Axe | Crusher Mace
Accompanying: 5,000 Drones [Using Carbines], six hundred Juggernauts, 200 Heavies | 200 Grenadiers |

Captain Fara: 500 Drones | 60 Juggernauts | 20 Grenadiers |

One Final Effort.

One Final Push.

His chest heaved, fingers twitching as they grasped at the handles of the weapon in each hand. Cleaver in the left, Mace in the right. The others, staggered to his side. They were exhausted, he saw it in their eyes. The heavy mass of Verikast plates weighed down on every part of their bodies - necks straining to keep heads upright. His shoulders rose and fell, eyes looking up the final steps into the heart of the city. This was it. Gordrak's words rung in his mind. He looked to his kin once more, giving a nod to Gordrak as he saddled up beside him on the front line. Warriors of the twelth and tenth regiment and various others he recognised. Warriors he respected and loved as kin.

Die well.

No. No chance in any plane of existence was he settling for that. Keldothera, Osam, Sylok, Gordrak, Tathra - all of them. They had all risked life and limb somewhere to make sure he got here. He didn't plan on dying, they would not die here today. He was certain of it. Today they would survive. He turned to their exhausted forces, in all of their eyes he saw the eagerness to fight. The strength of their species, united together and enduring anything and everything that came their way. But, it had only been weeks before that their entire civilisation was on the brink of civil war. This was about so much more than this one battle. They needed to know that, they needed to be reminded of what they were fighting for. He set down the Axe, looking to his kin.


"Warriors of the Bryn'adûl, my fellow Juggernauts. This battle is bigger than any of us, it is bigger than this city. It is bigger than Nar Kreeta, Kwenn, Kintan or Dandoran! This is about the survival of our species, the survivl of what we have come to know as HOME. Dig deep, we must stand together as not only warriors, not as the monsters they think we are but as Draelvasier! Remember who we are! What we are." Galak's speech erupted into a roar as he struggled to raise the Mace over his head.

The forces, even exhausted roared with him. The silence overcome as fists slammed into the breastplates of thousands of Draelvasier warriors. Baedurin, Sraelvun and Aeravalin united.

"Truth! Our truth!" Came a chorus of Baedurin, they were readying themselves for one last great battle. Galak would use the battlenet override to activate the communication stone of every Draelvasier on the planet, living or dead. Their feet stomping into the earth, reverberating through the cracks of the shattered city. A rhythm with the drumbeat of the Servitor deep beneath the surface.

They turned, weapons ready as Galak raised the Axe from the concrete at his feet.

"APATHY." - "APATHY!" Thousands of voices sung the first of the sacred tenants, their words travelling across the entire battlefield through the communication stones of every Warrior. They marched up the final steps, breaking into a calm and controlled charge into the heart of Kreeta. Apathy, apathy burned in their hearts. Galak charged with his mighty brethren, cutting a swath through their enemy as a silent shadow. For every one of them that fell so did ten of the enemy.

They endured.

Nar Kreeta. Every world they had set their eyes upon would be theirs. For the Chieftain. For the Bryn'adûl.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Outskirts [Bryn Crash Site]
Equipment: Astrea Robes | Heart of Aceso | Heaven's Wish | Heaven's Embrace | Sol & Astra
Allies: SJC
(Fr)Enemy: Bryn
Tag: Tathra Khaeus
Objective: Halting the return of Tathra Khaeus to the battlefield.

_________________________________________________________________ ​

Even as he saw the truth; even as he knew, naked and plain, he still would not change his mind.

Rather than to see the Force through an unblemished lens the red-skinned Draelvasier had accepted a metaphysical gift and warped the contents to fit a fragmented and ill-conceived lie. He rewrote his atrocities from sin and suffering to a ballad of necessity, purpose, and future prosperity. He almost sounded as if he believed his killings, his purges, were righteous. Pure. More than anyone else she had ever met, though hate waned in the face of foolishness, his delusions had grown stronger. As rhetoric filled the space the Force slowly vacated—He filled himself with that which would insulate and protect his revelation.

She could feel the strength of his convictions. It was as unshakable as her own faith. It was as if he truly believed the Bryn’adûl had somehow been ordained by the galaxy to wipe the slate clean.

Her expression seemed to quiet as her eyes fell. She had been blessed with the gift of swimming in the Force from an early age, at every moment. She breathed it in, recognized it, and let the current take her where she was needed most. The universe was never cold and directionless. Gianna knew what she needed to do and felt compelled to share that security, that peace, with others. This was the essence of her calling. Despite warnings or personal cost, she could never turn away from helping others.

Tathra Khaeus existed on a similar plane—But at the opposite end of the spectrum. He heard a calling. Whispers, perhaps, from a shadowed and submerged influence, but, a calling all the same. She stood on the side of life. He stood, unwaveringly, with death.

As vitriol fell from his great maw aureate eyes settled on her own. The language he spoke would have sounded foreign to anyone else; but as he knew it, so did she. His inhuman face had moved from a being terrorized to a proud father. Tears of sadness, of horror, became symbols of his pride. Slowly, the Jedi Knight understood the rapid transformation. It was easy for the brute to deceive himself, to see things that weren’t there. It was the nature of all living things to protect themselves. To deny that which caused them pain. To lie to themselves when it felt like they might break beneath the pressure of the insurmountable.

It was easier than accepting the truth.

To accept that there was no higher purpose in malevolent designs; to accept that his people died for nothing. To know that his crusade against the weak was an archaic product of a corrupted mind. Systematic killings, the denial of the right of existence for entire worlds, had gone by many things, but this, in its entirety only one name.

Genocide.

“You—”, she started, but her hand rose to cover her mouth, while a cough rose. Her vocal cords were still raw and inflamed but it seemed that she could at least be heard now. The tone was harsher, though, not by intent. It was as if she had been gargling with gravel and salt after walking through the desert for thirty days. The statement that followed was uttered with the deepest sentiments of the of all she had to give. “—You are wrong.”

With his arms spread wide and the near deity-esque position he had taken the Jedi could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising. He hadn’t moved against her, yet, but it would come. She stood in his way. All this time, she had blocked his path, and she would, evermore. “I live. I bleed. I breathe—And I am not bound by technology nor has it changed me unwittingly into some sort of creature. There you are; Here I am.”

The Knight inhaled deeply, shaking her head, as she realized what the debate had boiled down to. It was a rule of thumb that every youngling knew, inside and out, because the urge to lash out when maltreated burned so brightly. Two wrongs; Don’t make it right. When she had begun likening the Draelvasier to children would be beyond her—But it existed all the same.

They were lost. With a lost, mad king, to lead them.

“The answer to centuries of war and destruction will never be more bloodshed. More bodies in the streets. More dead, more suffering. Others may have pressed the issue before the Bryn’adûl, but that’s no excuse to add to it. We can diffuse this, here and now. We can end this madness and bring something worthy to the galaxy. Something deserving.”, Gianna breathed, quietly, while the wind pulled some of the smoke and ash from the trench. It carried with it the sounds of the battle that still raged, ever onward, while they were trapped here. Locked in a disagreement that had no suitable solution for either side. Every moment that passed—More died. It was a perpetuation of the cycle.

Over and over.

“It deserves, we deserve, so much more than this. We all deserve the right to live. Even you.”

Nonviolence was a powerful weapon, though, that was something she doubted they would ever agree on. The young Nabooian woman felt sick. Whether it was from exhaustion or being so mightily entrenched in a creature that was the embodiment of hubris and malicious intent, she couldn’t say. Jade eyes remained locked on his for a long moment. His surety was disturbing.

Even moreso was the emptiness in aureate shaded pits. They were holes. Cold as winter skies. Many people could learn to lie with words, with their hearts, but the eyes were windows. Once they were gone, well and truly, the individual that housed them was always damaged. Not beyond repair, but damaged. In this case—Possessed by something much greater. Much worse. Whether a wound already existed or the Bryn’adûl created more in their wake? Mattered not. It was, as it was. He was, as he was.

Evil was not a “something” that she could immediately point out and give a name to. It was simply the absence of something else.

Abruptly, her senses came to life once more. The softly growing flowers at her feet seemed to tremble and the light glow that emanated from her core faded as realization flooded her. They were definitely not done. He still held strength, breath, and a renewed will to destroy. She could hear something whistling in the air as it got closer. Familiar. A scream of crimson—

Gianna moved without thinking. She would never forget the whispering hush of vapor rising like steam from the blood-red weapon the Bryn’adûl Chieftain wielded so effortlessly. She would never forget the sight of it cleaving through flesh snd bone as if it were made of paper. She broke into a sprint while red hair moved in waves and headed directly at the massive Draelvasier. The Jedi pushed off from the ground and her feet found purchase against his chest to let her gain height. She may have aggravated his wounds, but it would be the feeling of her boot to his face while she pushed off into the air that would probably irritate him more than anything. Insult to injury. The red-haired woman flipped backward and over the incoming axe that shrieked through the air.

The angle looked like it would have cut her head right off.

She could hear him catch the weapon as she landed on her feet like a feline. Her face had fallen into an expression that had no words. It was agony that could not be explained or fathomed. Every time she reached for her lightsabers in this fight, or any other, she felt some part of her die. The Force gave her the confidence and purpose to continue, but it was excruciating.

Gianna could neither kill him nor could she let him pass.

“…I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t make me do this.”

He would. He did—He was already lumbering forward. She barely had a moment to react before both lightsabers jumped from her side to waiting hands. As much as she loathed what they represented, truly, there was no other choice. He could not be allowed to continue. He could not be allowed to return to the battlefield. Blue and golden light burst from the ornate hilts at the same moment. This time—She used both. “Don’t!”

Gianna was strained. Exhausted. Her body had been broken, beaten, and her abilities were stretched so thin it felt like her connection to that energy might snap. Blades pointed downward at her sides her shoulders heaved while she found air, trying, to get around the feeling of her throat closing. Her opponent kept coming toward her and she immediately noticed that his movements were measured. No longer wild. No longer a burning font of rage. The first swing she deflected much as she had before—Only, with two blades, she could strike faster.

Or would have been able to.

She was weakening. Slower. Gianna knew that she was waning but couldn’t see any other way forward. The things he would do…How could she let that happen? Let him pass? Compassion had always been her greatest strength, but now, she wondered if it might be her greatest weakness. When she was forced to leap backward to gain enough room, she brought up the sabers before her and crossed them, quickly, crashing them together. Eyes closed. Once more, light erupted.

Blinding light.

Spoiler: Summary-TLDR

Whelp. Whoops. Made a mad God-King out of Tathra. RIP King's Landing. Gia responds to his zealot claims with common sense and finds herself backed up into a fighting corner with no real options. She has no backup; and she's used way too much force crap. Fighting starts again.

 

[Argaloth(Dead)]

Battle theme​

Location: Outskirts of Nar Kreeta City
Troops: 2 0 Ravager Brute, 3 1 Juggernaut Corps, consisting of 40 units each with various types of Juggernaut units, such as Captain, Major, Minor, Grenadier and Heavy, Drones within each company and a batch of 10 0 Drael Skags beast mounts.
Hostile tag: Cadere and Mathieu Brion

The Juggernaut warriors cheered in unity as the plan worked more or less exactly as predicted. That was what made the Bryn'adûl's warriors different from the weak-minded SJO soldiers. The Bryn'adûl wasn't afraid of sacrificing warriors if it meant winning the war, no matter the cost of lives. The Frittata that moved in to cover the charming Minor units in their suicide run, would receive a salvo of grenades shots from Grenadiers with their grenade launchers. The grenades fired by the Grenadier's grenade launchers would secure the Frittatas would be destroyed completely and remove the Thermal disruption on Bryn's sight.

The rest of the Juggernaut Corp started to slaughter their way in the safety of their cover, while the Kastolars had moved away from their cover and into the open. A couple of the remaining Juggernaut Corps still died to the Kastolars, but they were in a much worse situation than the Juggernaut Corp, given that every single chain of command was gone.

<"Finish these weaklings!"> cried out the Majors as they gunned down whoever was in their sight. The sight of the Force Shockwave only invigorated the Juggernaut Corp to fight harder and more brutal than ever before. Some of the Juggernauts even fired upon mortally wounded Kastolar soldiers who already lay bloodied on the battlefield. However, the Grenadiers was close to running out of grenades and some dropped the grenade launcher and with their large glaive weapon, they would charge out. quite a few Grenadiers was killed in their melee charge, not making their way to the Kastolar soldiers.

However, those that did make it, showed the Kastolar soldiers, how horrible the glaives were in the hands of the Bryn'adûl as they cut the Kastolar soldiers down.

Further down the battlefield, away from the main battle, was Cas and Mathieu fight for their life against Argaloth. The Ravager brute just kept charging them, tearing rocks from the ground to throw after them, each time they tried to get a breathing room. With his back turned to Mathieu, Argaloth would feel the insanely painful cryoban grenade explode at the back on his head, followed by three more L'Escargot slugs.

Releasing a thunderous roar as he turned to face Mathieu and launched himself like a torpedo, swinging his clawed hand at the Jedi Padawan. If it hadn't been for Cas Tynan's force attack, pushing Argaloth's trajectory off, Mathieu would have felt the Ravager's full might tear into him. Landing on all four, Argaloth jump a bit on the spot, slamming his large forearms into the ground, before charging Mathieu again, fully locked on the Jedi who decided to go into a position of prayer in the middle of a fight.

Argaloth felt the connection in his side as the CryoBan grenade's effect latched on, causing quite a number of damage to the enormous Ravager brute. Cas even managed to dodge Argaloth's powerful slash and even cut Argaloth's leg deep enough to feel it split bone. Cas' attack was quickly followed up by Mathieu's revolver's slugs, piercing the already cut up leg from Cas.

Just to make it worse, Mathieu even managed to slice just a deep cut into Argaloth's other leg, causing the large Bryn to finally fall and skit across the sand and rocky surface. The areas on Argaloth's body who had been hit by the CryoBan grenades was torn to pieces, leaving long trails of black blood.

Laying half-covered in rocks, sand and destroyed boulders, Cas and Mathieu had finally managed to fell the beast bigger than them both combined. to their side, they would hear the battle still razing on, with screams and warcries cutting through the loud explosions and blaster fire.

However. against all odds, against everything both Jedi did of damage to Argaloth, the body of the Ravager brute started to move. Smaller rocks would roll off of the fallen body, sand slither back into the ground beneath the body of Bryn as Argaloth himself rose once again. Both Jedi would then see something truly terrifyingly scary, all of the damage, both big and small, started to close, mending itself and closing any wounds visible.

Raising himself on his hind legs, Cas and Mathieu would watch the Bryn'adûl standing full 18 feet tall, consuming some kind of potion, before throwing the pouch away. In a deep near-deafening guttural bellow, he started to mutate his body. His skin started to change colour as heavily reinforced rock-like natural armour began to cover his entire body. If the two Jedi thought Argaloth was enormous before, with his 6-ton mass and 18 feet in height. He was doubling his mass as finally, a pair of tusks jutting from Argaloth's lower jaw.

Argaloth was truly a monster as he started to pound his chest, followed by being both faster and stronger, launching himself from his position at the two Jedi. He didn't care what he attacked, nothing would stand in his way and everything would be destroyed which stood in his way.

While Argaloth neither heard or cared what of Bryn forces communicated to him, the Juggernaut Corp, however, heard loud and clear the chanting of Galak and his force. Joining in on their own chanting, the Juggernaut Corp chanted the tenant, <"APATHY!"> as this would be the final push for all Bryn'adûl warriors. Either they conquered the entire planet or they damn well would die trying.

 

[Keldothera]

Location/Objective: Kreeta City
Allies: Gordrak | Primarch Drek'ma | Sylok'Vanari | Galak | Gordrak | Tathra Khaeus |
Enemies: The Monster
Equipped: Kukri | Glaive | Kraker | Splitter |
Forces: One hundred and sixty-two Juggernauts alongside forty Grenadiers and fifty-five Heavies | Nine Rhivaks

The battle continued, and the humans were intent on showing their warrior prowess whilst entirely underestimating that of the Juggernauts, they were outnumbered by over a hundred more warriors in these tight quarters. The Juggernaut minors fought with less experience, it showed in how the forces of Shadow Company cut them down without remorse - but the Grenadiers held back, using their Krakers to blast apart the foolishly grouping commandos. Legs and other pieces dotted the battlefield. Their droids outnumbered the Rhivaks but the massive and agile beasts darted around them, catching them between their dozens of smaller arms and crushing them with extreme force when they could. They didn't need distance, unleashing a powerful beam right into the face of a plucky commando that left him little more than charred flesh and melted metal.

The molten rounds of Draelvasier weaponry would cut through them, every if it didn't outright kill a Commando it would riddle their bodies with molten burns, skin sticking to their clothes. They weren't frightening, the Draelvasier had fought across so many worlds for so long and seen true horrors. Little men playing at war wasn't one of them - but admittedly they were tough.

The Syphons would continue their work, even if it was only very slowly the Syphons were incredibly powerful and rare creatures. It would only be a matter of time before the motors of their droids began to short out, legs and weapons no longer working, HUDs going dark. A Juggernaut Heavy with an Axe had enough strength to cleave a droid nearly in half, or close enough that it didn't matter. They fought hard, but they had been fighting for so much longer than the commandos. They were beginning to show signs of exhaustion, the Splitter felt heavy in her arms as she fired the last shot from her magazine, obliteration the chassis of one of the larger droids. It seemed as though the shot she'd fired at their leader was a dud, but at least it hit.

The squads that moved to flank would open fire on the recently moved droids. Keldothera loaded the magazine of her rifle, panting. The pain in her body was immense, undead claw marks and whatnot adorned her armour. A long with a dozen fresh bullet wounds the length of her thigh and the side of her breastplate.

But that was when she heard it, a crackle came through the communication stone so loud it was almost indecipherable. But it wasn't just hers, it was all of theirs. Every single Draelvasier -

APATHY. The first of their tenants, the reason why they were here. They had come here to spread the truth, to sow strength into the Galaxy once more. They had come because they must, they endured because it was victory or civil war. Everything - everything they and the Chieftain valued was at risk. They had to endure, the Bryn'adûl would survive.

But of course that chant, it meant one thing - The Emissary was close. Victory? Was at hand. Without missing a beat, Keldothera replied alongside the hundreds at her side. Joining in with Galak and their forces as they continued.

"BALANCE."

"BALANCE!" Came from nearly every Draelvasier that could speak, reverberating through the entire city and even possibly the outskirts. Of course, balance. She looked to the Ashaka warrior as he fought, more like a Warlock than a healer. Balance, brawn and brains - they fought together as all Drael should, they endured the enemy as they should together. It was clear now, she had to lead as well as fight.

Kelda rose, exhausted or not they would fight until they won. Kelda rushed from the safety of the building, firing all three of her shots from the Splitter into the approaching droids - each falling to the ground as their chassis exploded. She charged into the enemy, holding her Splitter by the barrel as she swung down with the bayonetted end of the weapon - the force of her strike cracking open helmet and skull as she threw the body back behind her.

Kelda took the Glaive from her back.

"TOGETHER! NOW ONE LAST PUSH!"

 

[Sylok'Vanari]

​

Location: Deeper into the School Courtyard
Objective: Endure, Discover, Unleash. Win the City!
Forces: Army of Ashaka Ik'Straktors | Scattered Drones | x5 Personally Assigned Juggernauts | x3 Ashaka Battlemasters (Ignore the Necromancy, Not a Thing.)
Gear: Model A - Verikast Drone Armor | Barricas Oil | Superior Restoration Mutagen | Barad Kukri | x4 Barad Impact Grenades |
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Sethrak | Keldothera | Primarch Drek'ma | Osam | Krarolk T'manu | Kar'dak |
Enemies: The Monster & Company | Laertia Io

In a fraction of a second, everything came to a halt. Sylok could hear the beat of his heart in his head, the steady thump reminding him of his morality. It all came down to seconds and choices. Everything in a fight came down to those two simple things. It didn't matter how much the force obeyed him. Nor, the strength of his allies. As useful as the penetrating rounds of each gun soared through the skies above, they were still useless during such critical moments. The weapons of war mattered little too, just tools to make those seconds and choices steer the threads of fate in their favor. Still, none of it mattered. In mere measurements of time a life could end. For the Draelvasier, seconds gave them a chance to endure. Gave them the opportunity to crash through the barriers of weakness that tightened around the hearts of their adversaries. They wouldn't be put to rest. As long as time flowed the same way it always had, Draelvasier would remain a constant. Not out of fear or desperation, but to bring the galaxy balance. To rid the weak and purge the diseased miscreants. Sylok's choices led him here, in the face of a steel encased warrior. Maybe, just maybe; neither of those two things mattered at all. In a flushing motion of cadences time began to flow again.

The warrior in front of him launched upward, barely escaping the grasp of the creeping roots. It was enough though, enough to allow the prestigious general Keldothera the pleasure of ripping a splitter round into the back of The Monster . Its molten hue stuck out from his leftmost jetpack unit, a clear indication of a malfunction. Not of the jetpack, but the ammunition entirely. Sylok was there when the spikes exploded on impact against the Ylesia scourge months ago. If they hadn't, many of them; including the vigilant Osam would be dead. Sylok watched carefully as Sergei retreated to the sky. The soldier was a vision, a Valkyrie of vengeance scouring for his next attempt at a shot to kill the Weaver.

Smart.

Sylok's thought slipped in through all the chaos, more disruptor rounds swimming through the air towards him. He counted, each round missing their mark. The petty attempt forced the Weaver backwards, but a final round was miscalculated. The drumming sounds of hellfire forcing him into a grave situation. No pivot, jump, dodge or motion would free him from the clutches of death. So, he decided, he made a Choice. The Monster wouldn't get away without the embrace of death either. Sylok lifted his left arm, the seconds creating a strategic compromise. If the Weaver was abolished into ash from the disruptor round, Sergei would pay with his life too. Again, he was here to create a balance, even in the face of death.

The beat of his heart came back to the forefront of his mind, the thrumming sound changed. It pounded fast and hard, each pathway of blood aiding him in his efforts to complete his biding. Sylok lifted his left arm in a blindingly fast wave. His wrist turned as as the diruptor round was inches from him, his vision entwined with a piercing vision of his friend Mavtrek. The Juggernaut darted to the frontal side of Sylok, the disruptor round penetrating through his armor, before being swept away into cinders and ash. Sylok's eyes widened in horror, the gyrating flick of his wrist wove threads of the living force. The tendrils of his invisible power latched onto the needle round in Sergei's back. The feeling of a heat like magma braced Sylok's hand. A single tear slipping from his white eye as he screamed. A surge of immeasurable power sprang from the wellspring. A burst of hot explosion ruptured from inside the very thing that was faulty. It became destructive, engulfing the steel solider above in a cloud of flames and smoke.

It was incredible, the weight of the Juggernauts death. They had their differences, but they still fought together through many battles. Sylok bit down hard, the whites of his already revealed teeth locking into place. He seethed with anger, but as the last cinder of rose to the sky, Sylok understood. Everything did matter, not just seconds and choices...everything. Mavtrek did it for a better future, a better life for his children back home of Draemidus Prime. Sylok wanted to hold him, let him know how grateful he was...but that was taken from him. Taken by some false heretic that hid, hid beneath a shell. It was wrong. The sea of flames that encompassed Sergei gave him a slight relief, Sylok would make sure to bury him. Either that or find a way to turn him into ash like Mavtrek. His pulse sped up more now, the whites of his eyes straining to contain his emotions.

Then like a screen of calmness, the words echoed through the city. A mantra of unity, endurance, apathy and balance. Ironically, Sylok witnessed the last tenant spoken. The true struggle of their race to weed out the useless existence that remained among them. It was uncouth. They were far less capable beings and yet, Mavtrek still payed with his life. War demanded equal exchange, it always would. Sylok sneered, he'd make sure no matter what they would all die. He would do just as Keldothera said. He would restore it, for Mavtrek, for his people, for the Draelvasier.

Then the words slipped from his mouth in a wicked rage. He watched the hellish flames above grow more fierce with each passing second.

"BALANCE!!!"

The echoes of the tenant rang through the schoolyard like a festering wound. The tenants that came after would cut deeper than any blade. Would puncture deeper than any bullet. Burn hotter than that of the sun. Most of all, at that very moment, the dead would echo them too. As if Mavtrek embraced him one last time, Sylok heard it through the force in unison, a dull whisper making his resolve unwavered.

Balance...


​

 

[Osam]

Objective: Kreeta City
Equipment:
Kukri
Verikast Drone Armor
Assault Carbine
Pulverizer Sidearm
Tags:
@Draelvasier (Joining the Tenant Call!)
The Monster (Casualties taken, firing a high-powered explosive shot at a building to cause it to collapse underneath rangers/droids)

They'd managed to shred through the defenses of one of the encircling squadrons. The nature of their volley had meant that the assaulting commandos had been entirely unaware of the presence of the Bryn'adul reinforcements up until they'd been stricken dead by their carbines. Of course, the same trick wouldn't work a second time, and where one squad fell, another quickly took their place - or at least a location not so far as to be indiscernible. The ripple of enemy fire whistled through the air towards the line of Draelvasier, managing to send several of their number reeling to the ground in pain or silence. Retaliation was ingrained in the nature of their kindred, and Osam didn't need to provide any further orders to fire upon the foe.

Even here upon the surface, the forces of the Jedi and their armies seemed intent on fighting to the last man, of dying in pursuit of their impossible defense. In their situation, he supposed that might be inclined to do something similar, but then, retreat as a Draelvasier was tantamount to cowardice, and that might well net his death. Humankind and their sibling races for all of their weaknesses had fostered an atmosphere of forgiveness associated with self-preservation - in short, the Jedi wouldn't cut down their soldiers for running for their lives. It was a peculiarity that so few of the Rangers number seemed inclined to take them up on that societal folly.

There was a loud crash in a pair of nearby structures as a pair of drop-pods struck into them, shattering through a number of unbroken windows and likely decimating the number of functional floors in the process. Rifles peeked over the tops of the roof like curious youth, but with a far more lethal objective than satiating mere childish curiosity. The Major shrieked a warning a moment before the guns lit up, sending a number of projectiles barreling directly into a number of the nearby Juggernauts. The height advantage meant that the projectiles dug directly into the heads of many, cutting through their Verikast and sinking deep into their skulls. It was a testament to the sheer brutality and endurance of the Baedurin race that at least a few took multiple rounds directly to the head before finally being lain low.

The pods had signaled the arrival of a pair of far fiercer combatants than these human riflemen, however, and these mechanical abominations made their presence known with an explosive entrance. The Major threw himself underneath the wreckage of a civilian vehicle in order to gain some cover from these terrible weapons. Many of his kindred were beginning to clear off of the streets and into whatever wreckage, rubble, or structures they could manage in order to satiate a desire for cover against these foes.

It was there, lying upon the ground underneath what had once been a family's transportation hover-craft that the Major's communication stone began to buzz with activity. At first, he believed it to be an error, perhaps a malfunction following his rapid slide - had he stricken the durable little thing against the ground too harshly, but the true purpose behind its activation was quickly made known to him. He could hear the rumble from where he was of the Juggernauts under Emissary Galak's command, the stamping of their feet, the familiar beginning of what might've been a war-chant, but this was more than just the pre-battle ceremonies of the Baedurin. He heard others too - Aeravalin and Sraelvun and Risen - all of their kindred joining in a united cry, a repetition of a single word which carried more weight than any novel to the Draelvasier.

There were others too, other words carried across the wavelengths to members of their race. They were more than mere reminders of fact but instead served as ample motivators for those who had suffered so greatly at the hands of the stalwart defenders of so many worlds. Battle upon battle had been fought, injury upon injury, casualty upon casualty reaping a pile that could only be understood through the unfeeling gaze of statistics. Yet, here the Draelvasier were, fighting onwards, demonstrating the same drive they'd possessed from the beginning, obedient to the same truths they'd learned when they had first emerged from vat and womb.

"Consequence" the Major called out from his prone position, the word ringing out in countless echos as it was repeated, passed around, and spread among the collective. Consequence... the results of any action, of every action. Every decision that had been made throughout their lives had led them to these moments, each reaction would beget the next and so on and so on forever like an immutable law of nature.

The Major saw the structure before him, its feet visible even from underneath the wreckage. He thought of other laws of nature, of the ways that the universe had deigned for life's experience to be seen. The Draelvasier were a hammer falling upon an unrepentant galaxy, shattering the foundations of the foolhardy and the arrogant. With a subtle motion of his hands, the Major drew forth his sidearm, and directed the high-powered weapon towards the foundation of the building before him.

The Bryn'adul would bring show the galaxy the consequences of their decisions. They would endure until the end and bring it to everyone who stood against them.

He fired, the shell sliding through the air until it had impacted hard into the building's lowest levels, causing it to shudder and to shake, a portion of what held it up suddenly taken away by the explosive device. Though he could not see the construct begin to sway, he could feel in his bones that it had certainly begun on a path of collapse -- the consequence of which would bring it down around those rangers and their machines who currently used it as a firing platform.

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

OBJECTIVE: C
LOCATION: Nar Kreeta, Outskirts
ALLIES: The Bryn'adul | Krarolk T'manu | Primarch Drek'ma | Tathra Khaeus
ENEMIES: The SJC | Armored column under Vaux Gred
EQUIPMENT: Shaman robes, Cleaver Battle Axe, Spitter Utility Bow (1x grappling hook)
UNITS:

• 2x Shaman Beast Masters
• 6x Obalisc Destroyers (2 Obaliscs killed, 1 Obalisc severely wounded, 3 Obaliscs at full strength)
• 1x Brumak (90% strength)
• 3x Quilxyn Protectors (0%/0%/62% shielding | Deployed)
• 3x Drael Skags (Full strength | personal mounts)
• 40x Draeyde Bats (40/40)

ORTHODOXY

As the Skags exited a thicker patch of the dust cloud in their counterassault, the Shamen riders noticed something important.

The reciting of the Tenants, the indicator of the final and greatest advance onto the planet, had begun.​

"APATHY." - "APATHY!" Thousands of voices sung the first of the sacred tenants, their words travelling across the entire battlefield through the communication stones of every Warrior.

"APATHY!" repeated the Shamen in unison, unyielding in their charge. A shell landed near Ostak's Skag and shrapnel flew into his face, but he ignored the resulting sharp pricks of pain. He did not care about the streams of blood that slowly ran down his face, did not care that they were riding straight into the center of the enemy armored formation. As long as his fellow Shamen maintained the same mindset, then them and the Brumak had the potential to achieve a shocking victory no matter how much damage was inflicted upon them.

"BALANCE."

"BALANCE!" Came from nearly every Draelvasier that could speak, reverberating through the entire city and even possibly the outskirts.

"BALANCE!" responded the Shamen once more. As Shamen, all three of the Beast Masters had to balance their physical fitness with their spiritual capability in order for them to remain efficient in their unique status as frontline officers. It was a balance that all three of them struggled with in their positions as Shamen, and a balance that was attempted to be meticulously maintained whenever possible.

However, Ostak in particular had even greater balances to consider.

As one of the leading figures of the Tachael-Vemnak, the secret inquisition of the Draelvasier, he was responsible for ensuring that hundreds of thousands of his kin remained true to the tenants that were being recited at this very moment. Yet he and his Enforcers could never reveal their identities, as the organization's anonymity was one of the main reasons behind its effectiveness, as an unknown inquisition organization was much scarier to defy than a familiar force. Consequently, Ostak and other Vemnak enforcers could not act upon their urges to inflict punishment as soon as a heresy was inflicted - they would have to wait and painstakingly establish an elimination plan when their presences could be concealed. It was for that reason that Ostak had decided at the last second not to shoot an arrow at the Shaman currently riding on his right flank, even after he had irrevocably disrupted his transfer of energy.

Perhaps punishment would come later in order to remain the balance of orthodoxy among the Bryn'adul, but for now, the best way to maintain the same balance within the Shamen unit would be to keep every physically capable unit in the fight.

"Consequence" the Major called out from his prone position, the word ringing out in countless echos as it was repeated, passed around, and spread among the collective.

It was time.
​

More than any other tenant, consequence influenced Ostak's every action. He held the loyalty of an entire sector in his hands, and failure could result in mass defection unlike any in Draelvasier history. The planetary ruler may control the population and finances of Kesh, but it was Ostak who was responsible for its social standards. His actions as an Overseer were made with countless Draelvasier in mind, and he understood very well the results the Vemnak's enforcement.

For every heretic that Ostak and his Enforcers killed within their sector, ten loyal Draelvasier were spared from the path of treachery. Their selfish actions served a selfless cause, one which ensured that only the best of the best served the Chieftain and his mighty armies. In the bi-annual Conclaves of the Overseer Council, Ostak joined a few dozen other Overseers to determine the social integrity of the entire Draelvasier species. While their actions were unseen by most, the Tachael-Vemnak and its agents were the glue that kept the species unified under one empire.

"CONSEQUENCE!!!!" yelled Ostak into his communications stone, his voice filled with immense pride and passion. The call was soon echoed across hundreds of units, small and large, all aware of the consequences that the result of the battle would have on the Bryn'adul's great Crusade.

 

[Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir]

Reidun Amersis
The Little Girl, Zealot minor​

Location: Nar Kreeta, Outside the City
Equipment: 2x Barad kukri | The Bryn’adûl Pulverizer | Barad Special Operations Armour
Tag(s): Amaru Vusa

As the Jedi's armour protected the stab that she was trying to perform, she exclaimed angrily. It wasn’t a painful cry now, it was really out of anger. The girl's outfit and equipment was basically worse than the man's. On the one hand, it did not provide such protection, and on the other hand, the place was favourable to the man. Maybe it was the physical advantage she could have hoped she would take advantage of, but the man's armour could even compensate. A worthy opponent, even if he was soft and fleshy.

She knew the fight, the dance would be over soon, she didn't know yet how that would happen. She may be at a disadvantage, but she was not weak, she was worthy of being considered a Drealvasier, she was no less than her brothers and sisters. She may have been at a disadvantage, but she still had no plans to die during the fight. Since she was born to fight, she was able to close the external problems perfectly. Everything slowed down around her, as much as possible.

She immediately saw that the man was reaching in the direction of the lightsaber, moving so that Jedi could easily kill her. At least that's what she thought, what else would her opponent have used the shiny stick against her? From the angle of the weapon, she saw that it would hit her arm and head or face. However, she didn't want to lose her arm either, so she'd rather let go of the sword that was in the man's belly and jerked her asrm away.

At that moment, the Little Girl heard the chant through her communicator, the word CONSEQUENCE. She knew what was coming...

<”WEAKNESS”> she said.​

She tried to knock the lever somewhat with her own moving hand so as not to hit her face completely as she yelled into the man's face.

<”I'm not weak, I'm worthy of the name Drealvasier! I am equal to my brothers and sisters!”> she screamed.

She still tried to make the headbutt with full force, the lightsaber reached her face, but then she pulled the lever as well, so the blade just cut across her face, starting from the forehead to the nose, under the nose, down to the chin, not too deep but it was still painful, she shouted in pain. But she had hit the blade this way completely out of the way and was now really trying to finish the move and hit the man with her head.

<”WEAKNESS”> she shouted again.​

​

 

[Yula Perl]

Location | Marketplace
Allies | SJC | Auteme | Adrian Vandiir
Enemies | Bryn | Sethrak
Tools | Emily | Nail Implants | Sentinel Droid (x20) | Nondescript lightsaber & blaster | Remote detonator

As Yula’s body began mending itself, so did the Draelvasier begin digging himself out of the rubble. With the Force flowing through her as a sort of life support, Yula felt his rage. His anguish, his sorrow for his dead comrades. It was not wrought solely from a tactical loss of bodies, but from the lives of his trusted companions, cut short.

“Curious,” She thought out loud, mumbling under her breath and the ringing in her head. She didn’t think that they—the enemy—could form a sense of camaraderie. Not like this. Perhaps they cared just as deeply, and if that were true, Yula was not surprised at what happened next.

She didn’t see the blur of Sethrak’s approaching body, nor the spear poised high above his head for a killing blow. But she felt it.

Yula was a never-ending wellspring of energy, and now it had run dry. The blast she had produced earlier and being buried beneath the earth had sapped the vestiges of her strength. The glint of Sethrak’s spear reflected in her vacant, glassy stare.

Her hands rose, shaking with fatigue, and she drew what remained of her vitality to the Force, pushing outwards. It wasn’t strong, it wasn’t aggressive, but her aim was to distance Auteme, pushing the Jedi off of her. This wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t deserve to die for Yula’s actions.

A gravely voice reached her with odd clarity, and though she did not speak his tongue, the venom in his words was unmistakable. The Drael’s spear would find it’s home in her abdomen, the pointed blade slicing through skin and viscera with frightening ease.

For her final message, Yula spat in Sethrak's face before unconsciousness took her again.

 

[Mathieu Brion]

Location: Outskirts
Troops: 5 3 Mechanised Kastolar Platoons (heavy casualties), numerous soldiers carrying LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenades and LPD-37 Coldstream Cryoban Rifles
Equipment: Ashlas wristguard | Espresso Revolver | 10 0 L'Escargots with Cryoban charges | Stun baton | Two Lightsabres | Brion Substance Regulator | Electromagnetic pulse emitter | Covert Jedi Robes on top of Gundark II-class Power Armor | 5 1 LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenade | LPD-40 Icejet Miniaturized Cryoban Projector | Commlink
Allied tag: Cadere
Hostile tag: Argaloth

And then the fight was over, Argaloth seemed to lay dead under a pile of rubble after the two Jedi's continuous attacks had finally worn him down. Little did he know that the freak of nature was still alive. In the background, he heard the pace of the fight slow down - the numbers on both sides were dwindling and Arlon had become one with the force. Mathieu let out a sigh as he remembered the events that had happened just before.

He had been lucky, truly lucky - for just when the enormous Bryn charged at him earlier, his friend used the force to disrupt the beast's movement, causing the attack to fail. His luck had continued - he remembered it clearly - for precisely when the Bryn charged at him for a second time, had he broken his connection to Captain Arlon, allowing him to hop out of Argaloth's way in the last second. Hopping out, however, was not quite as easy as it might have sounded, for on the way out, his leg was hit by the charging Bryn. It hurt, it hurt a lot, thankfully, it was not a full on impact and the Gundark Power Armour had taken the brunt of the hit. He was alive when he really shouldn't have been.

And now, now he stood with his friend by the fallen Ravager - they had done a lot to take him down.

There was a difference between being lucky and feeling lucky. Cassie's words still echoed in his mind "Show some damn respect!" The words were growing more and more painful to deal with by the minute and with his long series of failures and tragic losses it was really starting to get unbearable. He still felt immense pain stemming from his friend who laid hurt and injured on the battlefield and while it was a relief when the Bryn spared them hours of suffering by executing, feeling their lives suddenly ripped from existence was multitudes more painful. Cassie's words echoed through his mind again "Show some damn respect!". It played on repeat, festering and tearing on the hope that he still carried. The Padawan couldn't stand it. With wettened eyes he turned to his friend and spoke with an emotional voice "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disap-"

The sentence would never be brought to its end, because soon, Argaloth was rising once more. Mathieu cursed under his breath whilst simultaneously activating two cryoban grenades. The monster was healing - but if any of the L'Escargots had managed to bury themselves into his feet and legs, they would still be stuck in there and serve as a painful reminder of the last fight. When the time was right, the former Mercenary threw both cryoban grenades, timed to explode just as they reached the foe's arms and torso.

While taking a step back to prepare for the battle to come, it was impossible not to notice how his leg was going to be a hinderance. What came next was unbelievable, because the Bryn they had been fighting seemed to grow and expand. He activated his last cryoban grenade, and then, the now even more massive alien charged at them at a tremendous speed. With his strength enhanced tremendously, the young Morellian pushed the Kiffar Knight, promptly sending him away from immediate danger. But Mathieu stayed because he knew that he was too slow to avoid the charge with his injured leg, at least not just by running. Moments before the now powered up Argaloth arrived, Mathieu threw his last cryoban grenade at his feet and activated his miniaturized cryoban projector to spray the deadly cold stream in the Ravager's face. Nobody knew how effective it would be - but the Padawan just hoped that it would serve as a distraction.

Mathieu had a bad feeling about it. His plan was to throw himself to the side in the last moment, hoping to avoid getting tackled head on by the massive creature. When the moment came, he leapt to the side, letting out a short lived "Cassie, sor-..." his voice was cut off as the side of Argaloth's arm hit him. It was not even a full on hit, but the Padawan was flung into the air, making several spins on his way up before eventually falling back down again. By the time he landed, he had already lost consciousness and the power armour he wore were, for all intents and purposes, completely destroyed and dysfunctional.

The Kastolar troops had been handling the situation well. They had their drills well imprinted on their minds and they were quick on their feet. But each platoon fought on its own, for there was no longer a coordinating force that kept them together. But even then, they fought on valiantly and unafraid to sacrifice themselves for the Kastolar Sector. They were worn, tired and afraid. But they did what was hard and fought on to take out the Bryn force and ultimately, Argaloth. When their bodies told them 'not one more step' the soldiers found in themselves a strength that allowed them to fire off yet another Sundae shell or throw their last cryoban grenade. They were pushing on hard - the question was if the Bryn forces would budge.

The calming blue flares of a Sundae shell flashed past him - it was the first thing Mathieu saw upon regaining consciousness. For a moment, he wanted to give up, to stay there and let fate have its way. But then he thought of Inara. He would never leave her, never give up and abandon her. He had promised as much on Virujansi. When everything was bleak and his will was faltering, she was the one who would keep him going.

With her in mind, he started to make an effort, but instead of moving, he let out a pained roar. Everything hurt - despite his heavy armour, he would not simply walk away after taking a hit from Argaloth. But he wouldn't have to, for soon, a medic arrived, and then came another and one more. Mathieu, clad in all his armour was a relatively heavy person, but together, the three medics managed to move him to the flanking Frittata at the edge. of the battlefield where they had some simple medical facilities. The staff inside started to treat him immediately while the medics rushed back out into battle to find more lives to save.

Under the same circumstances, a normal person would most likely have been slipping between consciousness and unconsciousness. But Mathieu's impressive physique and his connection to the force allowed him to remain conscious and make simple movements. In truth, it would have been easier for him to just give in, ask for sedatives and hope for the best. But he would not allow himself to fail the Kastolar Platoons yet another time. "Hey you" his voice was weak, but it carried over to the soldier lying next to him without any legs. The woman had just been taken in. She was the epitome of all that the Kastolar Sector had to offer, for even though she was in immense pain and despair, she held her head high and did her best to stay present. "Hey" she responded.

Mathieu had asked what the situation on the field was, for she had just been there. And while she seemed hopeful about the battle at large, she also told him that 'the Jedi' was still fighting the beast alone. It would normally not have been a hard decision, but Arlon's last desperately pained screams echoed in his mind and Cas' disappointed words did too. Would they disapprove of what he was about to do? But then he remembered Dansk. He was going to teach her son how to shoot - whether it had any foundation in reality or not, he thought that, at least she would approve.

He brought his comms to his mouth and spoke on the main channel "This is Jedi Padawan Mathieu Brion, I am speaking on behalf of...." His voice was weak and he trailed off mid-sentence. At this point, he didn't speak on behalf of anyone - they were dead. But many of the troops did recognise his voice, for he had spoken to them on the channel before. Maybe he could bring them a sliver of hope, even in his broken state. "I am not really speaking on behalf of anybody. Captain Arlon is dead." his words were solemn. The Padawan breathed heavily, his wounds paining him greatly, but he had one final task "I am calling for a retreat" Even if the fight against the Bryn troops were going well, they were not equipped to fight against Argaloth in his new state. Instead, they would have to escape, so that they could fight on another time.

The separate platoons did not hesitate. Soon, they were all falling back to the Frittatas who would carry them away to safety.

 

[Cadere]

Location: Outskirts
Troops: Personal squad consisting of 15 6 Kastolar soldiers, 5 3 Mechanised Kastolar Platoons (dwindling), numerous soldiers carrying, LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenades, and LPD-37 Coldstream Cryoban Rifles
Equipment: 1x Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | FF-CAR1 | 3 2x Stimpacks | Comlink | Holoprojector
Allied tag: Mathieu Brion
Hostile tag: Argaloth

Cas and Mathieu's double team worked successfully as the fruit of their efforts lay almost lifeless on the ground in front of them. His shoulders raised and lowered as he let out short, tired breaths - was it over? Did they do it? Were these deaths worth something in the end? Hope began to return to the Jedi Knight once again and his lips started to twitch into a smile...

All that was over within seconds as the pair would see Argaloth's body twitch and his wounds begin to heal. Cas watched in complete disbelief during Argaloth's triumphant recovery "You've gotta be kidding-- that's not fair-- what kinda bantha shi--?!" he started, completely bewildered at what he was seeing but before he could form a cohesive sentence, he felt himself shoved to the side and out of the way of the Ravagers oncoming charge by Mathieu. Grunting as he hit the floor, he stood up on his knees and turned to face Mat who had been struck by Argaloth and sent hurtling through the air - the Kiffar's eyes widened in shock and he yelled "MAT!" as he watched the Morellian land harshly on the ground.

That idiot! What was he thinking?! He knew he could have evaded the Bryn's attack, why didn't he worry about his damn self?! Shooting up to his feet, Cas raised his commlink and spoke into it, addressing any surviving members of his squad "Jenkins, Starlighter, Kuuf... if you're still alive... please... make sure the Padawan's okay." he said, worry blatantly in his voice - although he could sense Mathieu's signature within the Force, he was still concerned. Unbenknownst to the Kiffar, Jenkins, Starlighter and Kuuf were indeed alive and were one of the few other medics who went to aid Mathieu and the other injured soldiers. Cas' concern quickly burned into white hot fury and watched as Argaloth hollered something in his native tongue - quickly Cas threw his arm up in the direction of the Ravage, visualising his ribcage and attempted to use the Force to crush his insides as he allowed the Dark side to seep through his being.

It wouldn't last long as he sensed another shift within the Force, that of rejuvenated vigour. Unintentionally releasing his grip, a small smile began to form as he watched the Kastolar soldiers seemingly make one last push against the Bryn - these men and women were truly something else and he couldn't be more proud to serve with them. Their renewed energy managed to restore some of the Light within Cas, allowing him to stave off the Dark side once more. Cas pressed on, calling out to Argaloth "Hey, ugly! You ain't killed me yet!" with a smug tone, he hoped to trigger the Bryn'adul. For every attack Argaloth threw at him, Cas was ready to evade and counter.

Until he heard Mathieu's weakened voice come through his wrist comm - "I am calling for a retreat" - What?! Was he kidding?! They were starting to win, to push back! Cas was ready to belay Mathieu's order, as a Jedi Knight, he outranked the Padawan. As he was about to do so, the images of Dansk, Arlon, members of his squad and more all flashed into his mind - they had all died for victory... the Kiffar then glanced over to the remaining soldiers, fighting desperately for their lives and to win this, were their lives worth it? For victory? He growled in frustration, all of their lives were worth it and no more needed to die. "Copy that, Brion. I'll hold off the big guy while everyone boards the transports. Hurry!" Cas would command the rest through his comms at a far enough distance from Argaloth so he wouldn't hear.

It did not take long for the platoons to begin falling back and so, now Cas needed to play his part and buy them as much time - luckily for him, Argaloth was in a frenzy and already gunning for Cas. He was beginning to feel the effects of his Force valor fade, as well as the effects of the Stimpack and his ribcage was beginning to burn his side, hissing from the pain, Cas clutched at his side. But he needed to keep going. "Can I just say... ow... this has been educational. Ow." he teased backing away from the Frittata transports and hopefully leading Argaloth away, preparing to avoid any of Argaloth's attacks as he continued to quip "As far as scary bad guys that have wanted to kill me go... you rank amongst one of the worst..." aiming to goad on the giant Bryn, short breaths beginning to return. Cas would do his best to distract and redirect the Bryn beast before eventually hopping onto the top of a Frittata which would take him away to safety lest interrupted by their massive foe.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Location: Expanded Crash-site/Tower Ruin
Objective: Rip out the parasites vocal chords!
Equipment: Axe | Shield | Armour
Allies: Galak | Argaloth | Keldothera | Sylok'Vanari | Osam | Ostak Cl'mana | Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir | Primarch Drek'ma | Kelmor | Gordrak | Krarolk T'manu | Targant Howlain |
Vicinity: Gianna Aegis |

The more and more she talked, he could feel it. The way her heart sank as that spark of hope began to dwindle, she had lost. Her tricks, her hopes had been dashed - he was called Titan, Sire, Creator, Chieftain. Not fool nor weak, he was the embodiment of strength that Draelvasier strived towards. It was his burden as much as his gift and he accepted it wholeheartedly, just as he accepted the truth of what the force showed him. It was a reflection of himself, of the power of change in the palm of his hand. There was nothing left for Gianna now, but all the same she had shamed him - humiliated him but in that suffering he had endured and found peace at the eye of the storm. The battle would begin soon enough and only once he had defeated her would no living creature know never to insult him with mercy every again.

He had no use for words now, all that was left to do was to return to his kin. Renewed, restored. Where Kar'dak and his fellow heretics had faltered, he was rise from the ashes of this horrible advent stronger than every before. Flames lit in his mind, raging fury dancing behind the slits of his eyes as he stared down at the Jedi. Now he was to be the judge and soon the executioner. He held the truth in his mind, one he indeed would share with the Seers. They would see the true beauty of what the Draelvasier were destined for, glorious revenge the likes of which the Galaxy had never seen. These star systems would burn in his grasp and that would only be the beginning.

With a single thought, it was already underway. The Axe rose from the sands a small distance away, whistling as it cut through the air like a high-pitched wail. His opponent finally sprung to action and he could not be happier, it would end as it always did - with bloodshed and defeat. Whilst his arms remained wide, he was defenceless - but that was the point. As the Axe came close, seconds away from cutting her head off if she stood in place she ran up his torso, the kick to the face he did not like but all the same he was impressed by her acrobatic abilities and ingenuity. She was good, for a Human. The Axe crashed into the grasp of his left and dominant hand, humming like the metal was shifting back to normal once again. The collision of metal with the palm of his hand sent a shiver through his nerves, he was wounded but he was not dead yet. Now that it was in his grasp, its blade seething with glowing vapour as the Jedi ignited twin blades.

She protested more, knowing she could not win this fight. Hues of blue, gold and crimson cast long shadows were the two stood. Don't. The deep blue of her primary saber glowed bright like permafrost, the wounds she had inflected - when she had impaled him playing over in his head as the stinging sensation return. he Titan continued to move; he growled infuriated. He was the first to close the distance. There were no words to be shared even as she pleaded, now she knew how it felt. He would not stop until she lay broken at his feet. There was little distance between them now, he could almost reach out and grab her.

The Jedi instinctively flew back, raising both sabers above her head but he was wise to that trick. Tathra ground to a halt, bringing his right gauntlet forward as the compact shield sprung to life, blocking view of Gianna as a great perl-white filled the empty spaces of everything he could see - the dust filled sandstorm settling into the earth once more. As the light faded, the shield retracted as Tathra darted forward - the sand exploding behind him from the sheer speed and momentum with which he moved, closing in on Gianna. She had used that split-second to strategize.

The twin blades twirled in her grasp, every motion, every breathe a conceited retreat as the scorching blades cut through two adjacent pillars of debris; two fingers rising from the extended horizontal blade held in front of her - solid chunks of permacrete debris flung toward him. Again, delaying the inevitable, they would cross blades and she would fail those whom Jedi so often did - those they had sworn to protect, to save. Including him.

He brought the length of the Axe parallel to the underside of his arm, his dominant paw within the handguard close to beard of the Axe. He thrust forward, spearing it outward and shattering the leftmost and furthest of the projectile debris, slashing out with his right gauntlet. The debris shattered, spraying across his face and armour as he flew threw it toward the Jedi. Tathra used the underside of his wrist as an anchor, controlling the momentum of the Axe entirely as he swung in toward her abdomen from right to left, the shaft of the Axe shifting under his armpit toward the edge of the swing.

Gianna could not escape the immediate confrontation, azure and gold blades danced in her hands as she brought her torso in to the left as the right saber curved over her head, striking the back of the Axe's blade as Tathra swung. Pushing it away as she dashed back, taking a defensive stance with both blades poised in defensive stances. The blue saber hung left above her head whilst the right was held close to her waist upwards and aimed toward his gut. Tathra snarled in frustration, she could have attacked then. He wanted her to, this was not a dance.

With the flick of his wrist the shaft of the Axe came flying out from under his left arm and toward her, the Jedi darted backward by an inch out of the Axe's range as she matched his speed, bringing both lightsabers up into the formation of an X from their original position, striking at the underside of the pommel in an attempt to propel the Axe upward and away. Instead the length of the Axe shifted from the underside of his wrist to the top of it, the Axe's blade spinning up past her, molten flames raging out at her as he pulled back and thrust out toward her, slashing low and toward her waist she darted to her right as the second swing came for her upper-torso.

The twin blades disappeared in a blur of graceful motion as the Jedi dodged under the swing of the Axe, one that would've most definitely killed her otherwise as she somersaulted into a backflip. Sabers still in both hands as they held her entire body up, using two tiny telekinetic pushes to propel herself backwards. Anger held discipline drove Tathra to strike upon her predetermined location, slamming the Axe down into the floor as a red kinetic blast of energy arced toward her, blades igniting as she landed upright on her feet. It was already too late at that point, resorting to her bracelet once more as the molecular shield sprung out in front of her as the arch of red energy viciously cleaving through the ground toward her, the blades spun in her fingers as she switched both to reverse grips, thrusting them into the ground to hold herself in place as the red energy collided against her shield.

The same as before but this time Tathra was close enough to close the distance, arriving in seconds as the wave subsided - kicking out with his right boot into the centre of the shield as it shattered, exploding with a powerful kinetic shockwave that sent before backward, both lightsabers spiralling outward from her grasp into the sand. Gianna crashed into stone as Tathra staggered onto one knee. Their eyes locked, both ragged and wounded but one was clearly worse for wear, she was tiring - slowing. Each of them knew the inevitable was impending, there was only so long she could hold him back. His hunger was insatiable, his conviction unbeatable. He could feel it, her pain - even if they were no longer connected it he could see the sorrow in her eyes. The Titans right hand sprung up to his back, grasping the sword by its hilt; tearing it from his back as he threw it spiralling toward the Jedi. The blade impaled where she once was as she rolled aside, refusing to fight back as she called the two lightsabers back to her.

He roared in response, his movement like a blur of speed as he covered the distance between them as quickly as he could. He swung toward the stone in a two handed strike, expecting Gianna to evade - it was nearly a feint as he switched his dominant paw into a reversed grip, anchoring his right holding the lower length of the Axe at a horizontal as the lower half of the Axe swung at her ribcage. The Jedi pirouetted, gracefully avoiding the swing as once again her twin blades struck the outside of the pommel to push it away. Tathra stepped inward, close as he played into the momentum of his swing - manipulating its trajectory using his left as an anchor, disengaging from the path of her two sabers, ducking out from under her blades as his left arm craned back and up - swinging downward, the Axe came down like a burning meteor toward her, crashing down along the length of the saber, trapping the blue blade in the hook of the Axe and yanking away. The saber was flung violently from her grasp, bouncing into the sand several metres away.

He struck again as Gianna ducked under the blow, keeping the golden blade tight against her body as she zipped around him, slashing the back of his left leg in the middle of his strike. The Titan crashed onto the side of his left knee, surprised by the sudden use of force from the Jedi. He turned on his side, expecting her to attack again but instead she called the blue saber back to her. Two could play that game, he called back the sword embedded in the rock toward him. The sword and lightsaber crashed into each other, skidding away from either of them. He rose like a torrent of crimson rage as his right paw balled into a fist, striking his foe with the blunt of his gauntlet on her head, but he did not use excessive force. He did not intend to kill, only to maim.

Her body slammed violently into the stone once again, blooding oozing from the base of her skull. He continued his assault, reaching down to grasp at her face as she pulled back, murmuring as he clenched down on the necklace that held the amulet around her neck. He pulled upward, dragging her to her feet, the metal of the necklace no doubt digging into her flesh half choking her as she fought back, slashing at him seemingly wildly. The orange blade burned a path through the verikast plating of his chest armour, nearly reaching his face and forcing Tathra to pull back, subsequently tearing the amulet from her neck as she fell into the sand.

-
Written with assistance from Gianna Aegis

 

[Syd Celsius]

All Syd could really do was watch in horror in her weakened state in the speeder as the Guardian destroyed the Market place. Landing was an extremely risky prospect with their earth quakes, and she could see the Dredge of Primarch Drek'ma taking out survivors. She grabbed a heavy blaster she had found and began shooting them, directing survivors to the exits she had managed to clear, picking up the most heavily wounded and ferrying them out of the Marketplace to any friendly unit still functional enough to treat them. Again, and again she repeated this pattern until her strength returned. The arcane flames within burned brightly once more and she soon abandoned the speeder to help survivors more directly, namely by killing every Bryn attacking them with flames or Lightsaber, THEN leading them to safety.

But the Guardian continued to move, and Syd was at a loss as to how to actually damage it. She hovered over it, following its movements, trying to sense the threads it was connected to. She strained. Its controller was in the area, but she was having difficulty pinpointing their precise location. She could feel the massive presence of the Guardian itself, an endless maw of hunger and death.

In the process, she rained unholy hell on Bryn'adul with lots of fireballs, breathing red flames on scores of drones as she followed the Guardian's path.

Syd stretched out her own self to its life essence, not so much trying to take control, as she had never attempted to control something so large. She wondered if it was related to the Exogorth.

Rather, she sought to disrupt the connection between it and its controller, Primarch Drek'ma , and if it was possible to disrupt 'then' she could see about siezing control and turning it against these Bryn'adul motherfethers.

But for now the point was to disrupt...

As she flew overhead she began to whisper strange things that should not be translated, hissing and unnatural and beginning to seep into the connection between it and the Primarch, plucking at the etherial chains, trying to warp and heat and split them and induce disorder and impurity, to deaden and even sever it if possible, at the very least try to force its controller to expend quadruple the mental fuel necessary to keep it under it's grasp. She saw so much death and suffering, but trying to disrupt this connection was paramount. The Guardian alone could blow the whole thing.

The image above told the story. No matter how ferociously the Bryn'adul fought, no matter how many Soldiers and Jedi they cut down, they just couldn't seem to claim victory. So many of the Bryn'adul had been lost already that even if they DID take Nar Kreeta (And let's be honest, there was a good chance they still could), it would likely be a Pyrrhic Victory: How many of their most elite warriors had already been slain? Sure, Jedi and Soldier were cut down in bloody swaths, but even doing this was starting to inflict heavy casualties on the Bryn'adul side.

And for all the SJC they cut down, Nar Kreeta still wasn't theirs.

But this beast they had summoned had to be stopped. If she could disrupt the connection for even a little, the SJC might have better chances.

She constantly chanted the unnatural spell designed to disrupt it's controller...

Osam , Caedyn Arenais , Keldothera , Yula Perl , Beltran Rarr

 

[Sethrak]

Location: Ruins of a surface market building
Objective: Continue the chant, Prepare to face the second Jedi
Tags: Auteme Tathra Khaeus Yula Perl

Sethrak froze.

He had killed the first Jedi. She had pushed his blade off its' target but the momentum made the spear rip right through her soft flesh. Now it was cleanly through her stomach, nearly impaling her completely. The Warlock pulled the blade out in one pull, the now opened wound promptly becoming soaked with the bright red blood of the Jedi, which quickly turned dark as it mixed with the dust and dirt from the collapsed building. She had spat on him, a final attempt of resistance. He didn't care. In fact, he respected it. She had fought until the end. She wasn't weak.

But that wasn't supposed to happen.

He wanted to kill her after the first Jedi. Not just for strategic reasons. Yes, the unwounded jedi was a priority, but he wanted to see the fear in the first jedi's eyes when he killed her. Furthermore...he would have granted her a quick death. While he was driven by rage, he had no intention of making the jedi suffer. Her defeat would be enough. She would die knowing she had failed. Now, she would die painfully, and with the thought that she had saved the other Jedi.

Sethrak was growing tired again. The unexpected change had surprised him. He even felt a hint of guilt that he hadn't given her the Death he planned. The shock and guilt made his rage fade, and with it, his energy also faded. He was exhausted and he still had a Jedi to fight. He was weak.

No. He hadn't endured all that he had, just to fail in the final minutes of the fight.

Then he heard it. From the city, from the communication stone, and from the few isolated fights around him. The chant.

Apathy

He was giving the jedi scum mercy. He would give her a quick death, and he would kill the second Jedi. They were weak...their deaths would mean freedom from the chains of their weakness. He would not allow them to resist his mercy. He had missed the first call. Instead, he mentally shouted..."Apathy!" The Warlock turned toward the second jedi. Watching carefully, e raised his spear, ready to finish the first Jedi. She would be given a quick death for her strength. She didn't deserve to suffer. He hoped the second Jedi would understand his act was one of mercy. He hoped he would have the time to deliver the final blow.

The time had come for the second shout.

Balance.

The Warlock opened his mouth to speak, but found that it was too dry....the dust had caked on his vocal cords, and the result was a silent exhale of air. He swallowed, nearly choking on the little moisture that he had left. Balance, something that even the Bryn'Adul knew of. The Aerevalin were the counter to the Baedurin. Where one was strong, but stiff, and heavy, the other was weaker, but flexible and light. A Baedurin may be able to absorb an extreme amount of punishment, but they would never be as strong in the Force as an Aerevalin. They would never be able to run as fast or long as an Aerevalin.

Where there was Death, there was also life. Where there was defeat, there was also strength. Where there was an action, a consequence. Finally, where there was strength, there was weakness.

Sethrak had missed all three of the first Tenants...Apathy, Balance, and consequence...

This time he wouldn't miss it. He took one final swallow, and shouted with tens of thousands of others, "WEAKNESS!!!"

The shout echoed through the ruins, as the entire battlefield erupted with it.

The young Warlock looked at the First Jedi, staring at her still-open eyes. She wasn't awake, but they remained open. He didn't see fear, only defiance, independence, and something he couldn't define. Again he reminded himself. She was not weak. His mercy wasn't in freeing her of weakness. His mercy was sparing her from the suffering that her wound would give her before she died.

He felt odd. He wasn't angry now, but he wasn't content. Was it sadness? No, he didn't regret killing her...and he was showing mercy. He felt...nothing.

The Warlock raised the spear just one more inch, still watching the second Jedi in case she attempted to attack. He spoke three words to the unconscious jedi. "You fought honorably" He didn't know if his words even came out. It didn't matter. He had never shown such empathy, such respect to his foe, and he never would again.

 

[Kelmor]

Objective: A
Location: Kreeta City
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Primarch Drek'ma | Galak | Keldothera | The Bryn’adul
Enemies: SJC
Equipment: Two Crusher War Maces
Post: 4

His maces crashed and cracked against armour as he followed Galak, his primal anger fuelling each blow. They were going to win, and this victory would show the Jedi that the Bryn’adul were not to be taken lightly. Their pathetic excuse for an invasion would be a blemish on their reputation, and that brought a crude smile to his face.

As he and the rest of the army reached their destination, Kelmor watched as Galak gave a rousing speech. He loved few things, but his kin were the exception. The beginning of the chant made him swell with pride, each word echoed through his bones.

"STRENGTH!" The words left his monstrous jaws and rang out across the gathered warriors. The reminder that he was not alone, that they were a force to be reckoned with. And one day, he would help lead them.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: A
Allies: Tathra Khaeus | Galak | Osam | Keldothera | Sethrak | Gordrak | Kelmor | Voridus Kerwa | Targant Howlain | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu |
Enemies: Beltran Rarr | Syd Celsius |
Equipment: Staff & Cuirass
Beasts: Guardian | Seven Dredge

The Primarch could feel it, the screams of fear as the soldiers were dragged beneath the surface by the Dredge. He could smell the blood as it coursed through the veins of their leader, he could admire the bravery. The chasm was thousands of metres deep, growing in width as the Servitor Guardian tunnelled under the marketplace toward the surface. The role it had been set out to place in the taking of the city had been complete, its enemies had been thwarted and the forces within the marketplace were either scattered or buried alive.

Come then warrior. Try and catch us.

Drek'ma would telepathically taunt the leader of the special forces unit diving into the chasm. The Dredge followed them, dozens of shadows of legs crawling into the abyss after them. Their feeble technologies were no match for the Guardian, even their valiant efforts were in vain as the Guardian surged up and up toward the surface as it had begun to do so minutes before. But this time, its course had been charted for somewhere else entirely. Galak and his forces moved into the centre of the city - at its heart was the palace. Soon, there would be no more Palace and what remained of the enemies feeble defences would be shattered. He could fear it, through the communication stone.

- Apathy - Balance - Consequence - Weakness -

"STRENGTH." The Primarch hissed through his teeth, forked tongue slithering in his jaw. The words of the Draelvasier, their tenants. A promise made, and oath kept and a truth shared.

STRENGTH

The word was chanted, a chorus of thousands of Bryn'adûl Warriors as their words, their belief echoed over the battlefield. It was not simple their bodies that endured but their beliefs and duty to rid the Galaxy of filth. They had a promise to keep and they would endure until it was done.

The Guardian came crashing through the Palace, erupting the interior into debris scattered around the heart of the city as the centre of the palace was melted down and eaten in moments by the Guardian, the upper length of its body rupturing through Kreeta city. The pronged maw growled a harrowing and deafening roar into the infinite space between everything in the city. It was truly beautiful, even from his distance so far from the war waged he could see its magnificence reigning tall over the Jedi insects below.

WE ARE DRAELVASIER

 

[Argaloth(Dead)]

Battle theme​

Location: Outskirts of Nar Kreeta City
Troops: 2 0 Ravager Brute, 3 0 Juggernaut Corps, consisting of 40 units each with various types of Juggernaut units, such as Captain, Major, Minor, Grenadier and Heavy, Drones within each company and a batch of 10 0 Drael Skags beast mounts.
Hostile tag: Cadere and Mathieu Brion

Rage. Strength. Power. Unrivalled fury. those were traits a true Ravager would possess and was expected within the Ravager clan to showcase in battle. Argaloth was a prime example of that, standing as one of the both largest and unmatched in strength, the Ravager brute showed just how feared a Draelvasier can truly be if their primal instinct is let lose to feast upon the enemies of the Bryn'adûl.

Any insult, threats or attempt to get any reaction out of Argaloth fell on completely deaf ears as the very ground shook for every attack the Ravager did. Cas would find himself being pushed to his absolute limit as Argaloth simply didn't give the Jedi Knight any time for breaks. Argaloth didn't stop to taunt or talk about how much doom he would experience once captured. Argaloth simply had one sentence burning into his mind: DESTROY. EVERYTHING.

Ironically, the fact that Argaloth was so fixated on pulverizing the Jedi Knight, the Kastolar soldiers would more or less, with a few stragglers of Bryn getting finally killed off, slowly make it to the Frittatas. So all in all, Cas' plan to lead Argaloth away from the three remaining Frittatas worked as the Ravager did everything he could to just end the Jedi mongrel.

Argaloth ripped an insane sized boulder from a nearby rock-formation and with a great leap into the air, Argaloth with a thunderous roar, slammed the boulder into the ground where he last saw Cas, completely shattering the ground and everything in front of the Ravager. Throwing the now shattered rocks away to get to Cas, the Ravager quickly found out that the Jedi Knight was nowhere to be seen.

At first, Argaloth pounded his chest in, thinking he had destroyed the Jedi Knight, releasing a primal victory-induced roar, standing on his hind-legs. However, when he got back down on all four limbs, he heard the Frittatas take off, getting him to snap around. Watching Cas dash for the last of the already moving Frittatas, Argaloth didn't even think, he just acted.

Launching himself from his position, shattering even more of the ground beneath him, Argaloth charged after Cas, who by now had managed to get on top of last Frittata, which was driving away. Releasing a primal bellow, Argaloth catapulted himself to an insane height, landing a bit too close for comfort to the Frittata, which sped through the barren landscape of sand and rock formation.

 

[Cadere]

Location: Outskirts
Troops: Personal squad consisting of 15 6 Kastolar soldiers, 5 3 Mechanised Kastolar Platoons (dwindling), numerous soldiers carrying, LPD-39 Coldblast Cryoban Grenades, and LPD-37 Coldstream Cryoban Rifles
Equipment: 1x Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | FF-CAR1 | 3 2x Stimpacks | Comlink | Holoprojector
Allied tag: Mathieu Brion
Hostile tag: Argaloth

The plan seemed to be working as the Kastolar troops loaded on the Frittatas, Argaloth was deadset on ending Cas. His muscles tightened and burned as he pushed himself to his absolute limit evading the Ravagers attacks with rolls, dodges and flips, using as much as his Force valor as he could before he was completely spent. Despite fatigue beginning to consume his body and his injured rib worsening as time went on, the Kiffar didn't let it stop him from getting some playground insults in - despite Argaloth ignoring them.

"What happened, Big Guy? Ow. No, 'I'll destroy you' or 'I'll break you?'" he quipped, continuing to evade the Bryn's attacks as best he could "I get it, you're mad at me. You seem mad." Cas continued, talking his way throughout the pain coursing through his body right now. The incessant insults continued until he received a transmission from a Kuuf "Sir, this is Kuuf. Padawan Brion has been secured and everyone is accounted for on the Frittatas." grinning, Cas watched as Aragloth tore a boulder out of the earth, in the short window he had Cas raised his wrist comm "Copy that, fire up the engines - I'll be there... ow... soon!"

The shadow of Argaloth's broad form loomed over him as the Ravager began his descent toward the Jedi Knight - swiftly, Cas summoned all of the strength in his legs and propelled himself forward, lunging out of the way of Argaloth's attack. Rolling forward to increase his distance as he landed, clutching his rib, Cas stood up and hurried toward the Frittata waving at them to go, hearing Argaloth's collision with the ground as he neared the Frittata. Using his wavering stamina within the Force, Cas leapt on top of the Frittata's roof and slammed on it to tell the driver to go - driving off behind the remaining two Frittatas. Eventually, Argaloth caught on and broke out into chase. His dreads blew in the wind as the Frittata accelerated to its full capacity to get away from Argaloth, taking a deep breath, Cas centred himself calling upon his last reserves in the Force before he had reached a point he never had before - focusing on its warmth and light, the Jedi threw his arms forward and unleashed a telekinetic push in hopes of slowing down the raging Ravager.

 

[Syd Celsius]

Well, 'that' clearly hadn't worked. The bond was clearly extremely strong. No choice now...she had to find Primarch Drek'ma .

She began tracing the connection as the damned thing erupted from the ground, sending debris high into the air which forced her to evade.

This had to end. Either they killed the Guardian or Nar Kreeta would fall this day, and the Bryn'adul would have yet another act of successfull bloodshed to distract them from their own deep and inherent problem a little while longer. That couldn't be allowed. Their faith in their crusade had to shatter here.

As Syd felt the connection she at last traced the location of the Controller.

She flew at high speed, torching vast swathes of streets in blazes to momentarily halt the Bryn'adul advance as she flew overhead, breathing fire below, until she spotted The Primarch at his outpost.

Syd built up the heat in her blood, in her spirit as she approached from the air.

"FILTH!" she called out to the Primarch, hovering above him, but at a fair distance, just enough for him to see her and hear her.

"I will take control of that monster after I kill you...and then I will use it to kill your friends..." she said harshly as she hurled powerful red flames that splashed down on the outpost he was on, killing a few close by.

Syd then began directing the powerful, searing red flames towards the Primarch in an attempt to cook the murdering bastard alive in his own juices and shell, keeping mobile with high speed flight so he could not retaliate easily with either The Force or Physical means.

She could see more exposed places on the armor and made the red flames leap for those exposed places...

 

[Argaloth(Dead)]

Battle theme​

Location: Outskirts of Nar Kreeta City
Troops: 2 0 Ravager Brute, 3 0 Juggernaut Corps, consisting of 40 units each with various types of Juggernaut units, such as Captain, Major, Minor, Grenadier and Heavy, Drones within each company and a batch of 10 0 Drael Skags beast mounts.
Hostile tag: Cadere and Mathieu Brion

Snarling and roaring, Argaloth charged after the last Frittata, dead focus on catching and destroying it. Cas would watch as the Ravager was able to match the speed of the racing Frittata, but not able to catch up to it. It had turned into a cat and mouse game with the Kastolar driver doing everything they could to drive faster than the Drealvasier could run. Cas' force attacks missed as Argaloth weaved from side to side, keeping his speed the first couple of tries from Cas. However, one telekinetic push did connect, slowing down the ravenous beast just enough to change the space between the Frittata and Argaloth to a few feets.

Argaloth catapulted himself to get back up the right behind the Frittata again, swinging his powerful arm to slam into the Frittata's side, launching his claws into it, only for receiving another telekinetic attack, completely knocking Argaloth off course, losing his claws from the Frittata's shell. Cas would watch as Argaloth would roll a few times, gaining Cas, Mathieu and the Kastolar soldiers a huge distance between them and Argaloth. However, the Ravager brute was not done yet and with a rage-induced bellow, continued to chase after the last transport and Cas. But, with such a gap between them at the Frittata finally getting into maximum speed, Argaloth wouldn't be able to catch up.

As the last bit of effort on Argaloth's side, he tore yet another boulder out of the ground and launched it through the air, sending it directly towards Cas and the Frittata. If the boulder would connect, it would completely tip the Frittata and make it crash.