Ziost. In the past decade, never had so much blood been shed for so little. After the meeting between COMPNOR and the Ashla Crusade within the comparatively concealed tavern on Ruusan, it was established Vrask would be embedded with their military forces, as quickly as they'd been established. Cedric was a competent commander and war leader, but even still, as many Sons of Ession born of struggle there were many fresh faces,
green men and women who had yet to see combat.
It'd been the tomb to many heroes of the New Imperial Order and now Grunge would be spearheading the next pack of hopefuls into the deathly grey of this dead world. He'd managed to avoid deployment there twice over, facing easier game in anti-Imperial insurgents but now- his fate was unavoidable.
But soon enough they were about to embark on the great crusade for which the sons of Ession had all been training day in and day out for several months in preparation was due to begin.
Aboard one of the many capital ships destined for Ziost, Kolson and his sole Imperial team-mate,
Sephi Karneh
made their final preparations before their rendezvous with destiny.
Even if regulations permitted that he could've armed himself with the best kit New Imperial credits could buy, he sought to endear himself to the unit he was attached to and equip himself just as they did, the only uniform and distinct difference being the Skull and Iron Sun of the IMPMAG symbol sewn into the fatigues beneath the olive green armor and plate carrier draped over his body. It wasn't anything to Imperial standards but the Ashlan Crusaders had to know he was one with them, not any better. They might not full respect his command or authority if he looked too distinct, too distinct in a way that might garner some unwarranted distrust of him and his XO.
In their quarters within the starship, in the process of recounting all their equipment neccessary for the operation, he spoke up to the Mirialan across from him.
“Third time’s a charm, right? Maybe we’ll be the difference.” He remarked the way of Sephi, his voice devoid of any real enthusiasm. He believed in the mission, the intent and strategy of it all but in the end, his task and purpose was to get the men and women assigned to his command through to their objective and more importantly, out alive.
It was a world charred and left to ruin by the very Sith who had plucked it from the grasp of the people and slaughtered them in the same breath, laying waste to not only its would-be liberators, but its citizens as well. She hadn’t been here for that. But when the word reached her, everything else had fallen away. The thoughts had rattled around in her skull for ages now it felt like. The price the New Imperials had paid at the behest of their convenient allies. Such a notion made her sick, truly, somewhere beneath the military-facade and the war painted face masking her truest thoughts.
These things surfaced once more as she went down her checklist, inspecting the weapons she was to bear for the sake of the mission. A deep, steadying breath pushed from between her lips as the anxiety and weight situated itself comfortably on her shoulders, earning a roll of each in some half-hearted attempt to shrug it off. It was familiar, even if unwelcome, that nagging anxiousness that caused her heart to stutter and her mind to drift. It got the better of her for the moment, forcing her to pick up her datapad and flick through the aerial images she had been provided to strategize her positioning on the assault forward. Each little marker placed across each frame, every line and arrow, part of the plan carefully collaborated between her and the only other in the room with her. Chats with soldiers who had trekked across the hell-scorched surface had offered them some insight, but ultimately, none of them had revisited this monument to woe since it had unceremoniously been created.
“Third time’s a charm, right? Maybe we’ll be the difference.” His voice snagged her scrutiny from the screen she held, and emerald eyes soon darted upward, fixating in his direction. She nodded, offering him whatever reassurance she could in the form of a half-baked smile. Sephi understood his burden, somewhat, given her role within the squad. Her lips pursed together, proceeding the slow nod of her head.
“That’s a good train of thought,” she mused,
“let’s ride it through to the end, yeah?”
Decisively then, she slid her datapad into the mount on her gauntlet, locking it into place beneath the gerry-rigged guard. This wasn’t her usual suit of armor and it showed, perhaps, in the quick modifications necessity had required, adjustments made to better accommodate the heavy load and specialized equipment she packed when she got to work. But, as foreign as it all felt to her, Kolson had been right in his insistence that cohesion was important to the success of their mission. And it was
her insistence that had enabled her to at least pack the heat she was most familiar with. The pressure to perform was high enough, add the additional clumsiness of unfamiliarity on top of it, and things would inevitably get messy for her. It was better to be safest in that regard.
“That’s everything I need, you?” The mirialan spoke up as she tightened the twin braids crowning her head, gathering them about to bind at the nape of her neck.
“It’s always more than you need, isn’t it...but yeah.” Grunge said, in a way, a faint as he reached to unclasp the small metal container he kept commonly in a pouch strewn to his webbing or battle belt. Within, two double stacked rows of cigarettes. He lifted one to his lips, taking in a long draw of the bitter, crushed up herb before letting the smoke drift away from him.
He was never a smoker...and then he enlisted in the Storm Commandos. Living life on the razor’s edge, it was a difficult habit not to justify. Death lingered just out of sight, around every corner. Might as well poke the bear a bit more.
“Heard some pretty stories, from some of the 501st and Galidraanis that were deployed here last time around...you’d think by now the Sith wouldn’t have anything left here...but you know there’ll be something. It’s one of their worlds...it's not that it matters, losing it...its the principle...but we’ll make it out just fine. Assuming ‘command’ isn’t a total stick-up-the-ass and sends us right back out again, where’s the first place you’re headed after this?” He asked.
She snickered, holding her hands up and overturning her palms in feigned surrender.
“I like being prepared, alright, is that such a terrible thing? Remind me, who is it that always has extra spoons, smokes, lighters, ammo…” Sephi trailed, casting her head back and sucking down a breath, nose soon scrunching at the hazy smog that reached from him.
“You’re going to make me pick it up again if you don’t quit it.” She remarked in tease, tipping her chin back in his direction.
“You’d think they’d just let us have the damn rock after the bombardment but nah, ‘course not.” The mirialan gave his question a moment of thought, just the one, “Straight home, to my bed-” she flexed two fingers from her fist, each one marking a reason she would list:
“-a good night’s sleep, and hopefully, some decent company.” Arms found themselves folded across her bust then, and she further punctuated her point with a grin.
“What about you? Casino? Bar? Nice tan on the beach somewhere?”
He offered a faint grin to the remark at picking up smoking. As much as he was seemingly, the straight arrow, a reputation which might have ended him up in the Task Unit Commander position he occupied now- he was bound to pick up as a bad influence on
someone, eventually.
“Not really, ‘think I’ll just copy your answer, if that’s alright by you.” He said before standing himself up once more, nodding once in her direction before ashing out his cigarette.
“We got a war to fight first.” Back to business. Back to fighting0 easy.
The mirialan smirked still, that expression seeming to become more permanent with each passing day.
“Sure, sure. I don’t mind.” A stride carried her to the table where her equipment rested,
“All the more reason not to get shot.”
New Adasta. Nothing else would've been a better fit. The amount of valiant souls between the Galactic Alliance Defense Force and New Imperial Armed Forces spent here only to be one among the ruins, pitiful. And here Grunge was, leading another nation's troops to the same bloodied grounds.
Even if they weren't his countrymen, they tread these broken broken grounds as the 501st did. As the 107th did. Too much blood had been spilt for Ziost, he knew men and women who served and died here. Names and faces, not just casualty lists as the Galactic glad hands might have known it, but real souls.
For the Ashlan Crusaders, more particularly, the troopers assigned to Grunge's command, this was a war of judgement, vengeance. For Ession, for the rest of the worlds the Sith Empire had put to the torch. They'd pay, all of them. Even if the New Imperials approached the war more clinically, with less zealous vitriol, he understood the sentiment. He wanted blood too. Too many times the Sith Empire was allowed to
walk away, their crimes unpunished and unanswered. Too many times did the Galaxy just sit back and watch.
It was time to burn.
A city of broken glass and shattered dreams, New Adasta would have be won door to door and street to street, again. For the love of all that was, Grunge wished they just buried it in fire and laid waste until there was nothing left but the ash. But it seemed the Ashlan Crusade approached it with a more brutal, personal face. They wanted to will superiority over the Sith and thus- Grunge and his unit had to resort to the New Imperial doctrine of city fighting, at least, when the mission called for the city to be taken and not destroyed.
Clear, hold, build. The Ashlan Crusaders and their New Imperial advisors would have to carve their way through the streets, clear out the Sith block by block and build up their fighting positions to make away for further advances into New Adasta.
That was where
Nova's part came in from stage right. She was a combat engineer, a sapper. Their task was to clear the way and fortify. The Mirialan would certainly come in use for that today, the Sith by all accounts should have been prepared, given how hot of a zone New Adasta was. This meant fortified Sith fighting positions, improvised explosives, traps, killzones- the works.
And it was up to them to burn it all down.
The 1st Battalion came into the outskirts of New Adasta, a nigh exlusively leg unit save for the sparse armored escort of Cataphract-class Main Battle Tanks, the staple of the New Imperial Order's armored assault force sent on lend lease and converted to Ashla colors. They'd be there to bail out Grunge, Nova and the Ashlan troops with them went it all hit the fan. But for now, under ashen sky, among haunted, jagged ruins they slowly entered the city, a section on each side of the streets with sights painting over each window, each entrance way, every corridor, waiting for the eerie silence to break into violent chaos.
ALLIES |
AC |
NIO |
Sephi Karneh
ENEMIES |
TSE | OPEN FOR SMOKE
