Invasion Liberty's Gate | GA Invasion of BOTM Held Adrathorpe

[Spirit of Patience]

LIBERTY'S GATE

The Galactic Alliance's invasion of Brotherhood of the Maw-held Adrathorpe
// START: NOVEMBER 22 - END: DECEMBER 6 //
OOC THREAD

Valiens Nantaris

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THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE	THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
Bernard of Arca IVI Adhira Chandra Annasari Aerarii Tithe Auteme Okkeus Dainlei Seto Du Couteau Liedran Kathause ​	Darth Solipsis The Mongrel Kyrel Ren Zachariel Steelblood Tegan Starfall Darth Maestus​

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“And you know what else, I will simply not tolerate these marauders indwelling themselves so close to the Alliance border. The uncertainty, the fear - my, have you not seen the markets? Now that, THAT, is bloodshed...”
- Chancellor Tithe

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A SECOND HYPERSPACE WAR STORY
LIBERTY'S GATE

After devastating attacks on CORUSCANT and JEDHA, THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE launches its first offensive against THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW. The Alliance Fleet, having held the Jedi holy world, pursue the Brotherhood forces to their stronghold of ADRATHORPE, intent on sending a clear message to the Sith'ari DARTH SOLIPSIS.

Unbeknownst to both sides, the legacy of the Brotherhood's Annihilation of CSILLA continues to haunt the galaxy. Debris from the scattered world has emerged from hyperspace in the ADRATHORPE sector, rendering navigation impossible.

The Alliance's pursuit has now become a battle for survival. Hemmed in from all sides, starfighters battle between the ruins of Csilla while battlecruisers fight to control the only escape vector from the CSILLA emergence. Unable to retreat, Brotherhood raiders had boarded an Alliance Super Star Defender to create an escape route.​

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I: HARD SIX​

'...protect the fleet while they pull back to the escape vector, and be on the lookout for targets of opportunity. Stay alert, stay alive, and most importantly, stay out of my way! Good hunting.' - Commander Tren Chaar

Attention all flight personnel, please report to your commanders immediately. In desperate need for starfighters to cover the fleet, Starfighter Command has ordered every hot shot pilot into a cockpit. Fly under your existing callsign or sign up as a temporary member of Talon Squadron.

II: WILL TO LIVE​

"Ingrained in the memory of the Alliance is the day the Brotherhood of the Maw first laid its paws on Csilla. That day, and every day since, they chose to secure their own downfall. And now, it's time to be sure that we don't disappoint. Let's give them what they've been begging for all this time.

All ships, proceed for the opening of the Csillan Emergence. These monsters mustn't be allowed to escape." - Commodore Liedran Kathause of the 3rd Expeditionary Squadron

III: STEEL AND BONE​

“Can’t let the pilots have all the fun – there’s a reason they call ‘em boarding parties.

TEAM SKYWALKER will be outbound. You’re deploying on The Maw’s primary ships, taking them down from the inside and dismantling their shields as best you can. Any other damage you can do while you’re in there, all the welcome.

TEAM TANO, along with us Nova Corps folks, will defend home ground. Er, home steel. Whatever you want to call it, we defend our hangars and scrub out those vermin that are crawling around in our vents.

Do we all know our roles? Good. May the Force be with you.” -Captain Osarla Ridor , of the 222nd

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thank you Dagon Kaze for the comic art!
and Bernard of Arca for the bottom banner!
and Annasari for the objectives artwork!​

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder of the Maw​

Objective III.: Steel and Bone | Sabotage the ship
Location: Aboard of the GA's main ship
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Open
Enemies: Open

[ Mitternacht ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

It was a rather unusual mission; I wasn’t used to that kind of job. I preferred the fights on the surface, where I could be there days or a week earlier, survey the area, get to know it. And with my knowledge I helped our armies. With a ship this big, this can't be done! I don’t really know if I’ve seen this large before, or if so, only on holopictures or holomovies. However! It would be nice to blow one up and make a nice big fireworks display in space.

Although a ship of this size had I to be far enough away for the explosion to not reach me. It all looked like a really interesting action. While we were travelling, I checked my gear and yes, I really hoped we would be able to land on the damn ship and not explode in space yet. That would be a very short career if I died already. Rhand wasn’t that long ago, I still wanted to live and gain even more glory and fame on the battlefield. After all, that’s why I served Maw and not for anything else.

Despite all this, it seemed like an interesting enough challenge to try to sabotage such a place, such a ship. Deep behind enemy lines; it was not possible to escape from here, like from a building, or even from a city, if necessary. Here, if my covers drop off, I’ll probably die because I can’t get out alive. I liked it. It was a real challenge and an opportunity where I can really show what I’m really capable of. True, to sabotage this monster requires others' work too, for I don’t think a person would be able to sabotage this one; unfortunately.

But I can try it. If I succeed, I will gain an eternal reputation and maybe even the Avatars will notice and reward me with the grace they did with The Mongrel . Not to mention, it would be a big and painful loss for the Galactic Alliance to lose such a ship, and it would be a good enough intimidating message for the entire galaxy. Last but not least, I might be able to get the Avatars' attention, as the warlord did, and they would honour me with their grace, just like I mentioned before.

After all, everyone needs ambition. And I had ambitious plans, and that was perfect. The Avatars seemed to be with me and with my dropship today, as I soon received the report that our ship was landing in one of the hangars of the huge ship. I didn’t move forward, I left and waited for the marauders to head out. I activated the camouflage device while still in the ship and then set off after them, alone. Today, just like on most of the other missions I was The Mongrel 's shadow.

~ MANIAC, try to connect to the systems and download a map of this monster. And about the place I have to go. ~ if he fails, I have to manually find a terminal to get this information for myself. In the name of the Avatars, I didn't even want to bother with that.

 

[Liedran Kathause]

[Commodore Liedran Kathause]
[1st Expeditionary Fleet - 3rd Carrier Line]
[ANV Cadence - C.I.C]

[OBJECTIVE: Retreat to the opening of the Csillan emergence. Further orders pending. . .]
Marlon Sularen , Constantine Oliva , Zahara Myneto , Syndulla Command , And whomever I'm missing?

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An hour prior, Csilla's broken remnants emerged from hyperspace, anguished fragments of the long dead planet reawakened long after the hyperspace disaster that gutted it. They’d arrived in violent bursts of raw energy and scorching light; barreled further toward Adrathorpe until they enveloped the planet’s orbit in a nightmarish amalgamation of decay. Alliance and Mawite forces caught in a brawl over Adrathorpe were subsequently trapped by a flurry of confusing sensor readouts emitting from the fractured sphere, left to cross weapons in darkness.

And yet, this horror, this painting of the death of moral goodness would be Galactic Alliance’s best chance at defeating their cruel enemy… here… and now. Desperate pings of scanners showed one clear way out of the storm that, if controlled by the G.A fleet, could strangle the Mawite armada. But as greater turbolaser fire pounded at the shields of trapped Alliance and Brotherhood fleets alike, the dread of their predicament began to infest the minds of every officer caught in Adrathorpe’s spiraling torrent.

In their rush to obtain control of the Emergence’s gate, blood would fall in wake of the battling armadas. Blood, belonging to thousands, hundreds of thousands…

Debris belonging to swathes of starships fell behind the 3rd Expeditionary Carrier Line’s route of escape, fragments of starfighters and wounded capital ships alike set in flame as the formation’s ion engines burned with the luminescence of stars. Along with the rest of the Alliance fleet, they’d spent the hour prior battling for the right to once more see their homes, and taste the light at the end of a horrific passage.

“Spin our Sacheens about, I want mass drivers trained on the nearest Brotherhood escort ships. Have turbolasers form a cone of fire around their pursuing forces.” Liedran spared a brief few moments to draw her vision from the tactical plots, tired red eyes locking with those of the Pantoran at her side. “Their momentum should carry them the rest of the way.”

With bated breath, the commodore tracked the rapid rotation of the line’s three escort frigates. Fingers danced about the surface of the map at the C.I.C’s center, tirelessly drawing up visual footage, raw scanner data, reports from the three captains. Then came a pause. Liedran froze as metal slugs were detected streaming from the bow of the Armistice, then the Overture, and finally the Sonata. And in a silence that ran contrary to the immense volume around her, she tracked the shells’ path directly through the bow of a Brotherhood Supremacy-class.

Visuals from the Alliance flagship’s cameras caught the distant shape crumbling, tearing apart at the seams. But before the crippled vessel fell to an onslaught of missiles, and turbolaser batteries, it fired off one final salvo of retaliation. Once more silent, Liedran tracked the beams of plasma on sensors, until finally their courses converged on one target: The Armistice’s already battered spaceframe. Mere seconds after impact was confirmed, the frigate’s angular sprite vanished from the tac-maps. The commodore’s fists clenched, nails digging into the skin of her palms, “What the Kark was that?!”

“It looks like Armistice took a direct hit to a magazine chamber. The blast must have spread to the warhead bays and hit the reactor containment,” Cadence’s tactical officer drew closer to her console, frantically working to make sense of a flood of data that had suddenly broadcast itself to the C.I.C. “That’s- That’s the only way to explain these antimatter readings.” A ghostly pause paralyzed the lieutenant before she read back a final snippet of data, “No survivors… No… anything.”

Liedran’s eyes slammed shut, one deep inhale after another fruitlessly begging for her to calm down. In spite of her own pleas, the commodore dug her nails into the surface of the command and control station. A sudden wave of paralysis hit as the frigate’s silhouette was etched on a compilation of her losses. Grotesque silence took hold in her mind; Armistice was awarded the dubious distinction of being the first of the line’s vessels to be lost over Adrathorpe.

She wouldn’t let their sacrifices be in vain. Liedran’s eyes finally opened, yet her fingers never relaxed their hold on the tabletop before her.

“Have Rhapsody fire a spread of concussion missiles in our wake. And… advise the Hidars to proceed to the front of our formation and use Cadence as a barrier against Mawite attack.” She paused a brief second to clear a lump in her throat, and otherwise permit the bridge staff to relay her orders. Then the commodore asked, “How long until the reinforcements get here?”

“I… can’t tell, ma’am.” A small, demoralized voice emitted from the direction of the communications stations, “There’s too much interference around us.”

Liedran shut her eyes again.

Spoiler: ”Fleet Actions”

-3rd Expeditionary starts off fleeing toward the only opening of the Csillan Emergence to hopefully deny escape for the Brotherhood’s forces.
-One of the line’s Sacheen-class Escort Frigates, the ANV Armistice is destroyed shortly after the fleet destroys a Brotherhood Supremacy Class with concentrated bombardment.
-Missiles are fired from the line’s heavy cruiser, ANV Rhapsody, to cover its path.
-Pain

 

[Ignatius Rausgeber]

The Bunghole
Cargo “Bay”
Enroute to Adrathorpe
The Mongrel
CHARMLESS MAN

The sickening acrid taste, and the intoxicating smell of cigarette smoke was for Ignatius Rausgeber a relief. The Bunghole smelled exactly like its name. A public restroom which hadn’t been cleaned in an age. Despite the vessel having been in the property of the Maw since the debacle at Ryan’s, the reckless misuse of it had left its mark. Beyond the overwhelming musk of sweat and urine, the once pristine deck plating immaculately manufactured by Locke and Key Mechanics had been stripped away. Replaced with rusted scrap which creaked beneath each misstep. In fact, most accoutrements had been sacrificed, discarded or traded by the Maw Auxiliary in order to fit more space. Despite owning the vessel in theory, under the practices of the Maw’s Marauders, Ignatius’ stealth vessel so carelessly traded away by Srina Talon was now used primarily to smuggle contraband into Maw territory. Spice. Exotic goods. Rustled livestock. And for certain corrupt auxiliaries, slaves who paid enough out of the camps. Ignatius saw maybe a five percent cut at best out of these deals. And only on those the Mawites decided to cut him in as an accountant rather than for the value of this asset.

Not that that was the case today. Smuggling contraband that was. Today, under the strict guidance of the Mongrel, the Auxiliary was to defend Maw territory. Almost as soon as the Alliance forces were detected, the Mongrel had arrived at the Auxiliary camp, and demanded on the Bunghole, and packed it to the brim with a mix of his own soldiers, and Auxiliary's mustered within about ten minutes notice. The result? A cramped spaceship which was almost suffocating to try and move through. Even then, Ignatius was pressed against the greater, muscled and musky bodies as he began to press toward the command bridge. While he may not have had nominal command, it was his Bunghole to run. And he would be damned with

Cigarette still hanging from his mouth as he uttered an increasingly long and drawn out trail of , submissive “Excuse me’s,” and “Terribly sorries” as Ignatius pushed through the warren of bodies. Limping as his face was forced to smear itself against the sweaty cloth and skin of his fellow soldiers. He audibly gagged as others sweat coated itself against his brow and through his hair. Still. It was what it was as he moved through. The mass of warriors amping themselves to battle. The deck floor creaked beneath his limping, as his left foot dragged behind the right.

The bridge of the Wolf Claw class frigate when Ignatius entered was not nearly as cramped. It was illuminated by the stunning stars of hyperspace, now just lines to follow to eternity. The Mongrel stood at its centre, overseeing command. As a crew of both Marauders and Auxilary’s oversaw the arrival of the Bunghole to battle. Kerri, now promoted to adjutant slave driver stood at the Mongrel’s side. His actions on Coruscant had only increased his standing with the Marauders tenfold. Only turning when he noticed Ignatius’ arrival. “Iggay!” Kerri cackled, welcoming his part friend, part slave-soldier associate. “Welcome lad,” Kerri’s eyes darted to the Mongrel. “Sir, Iggy.” Ignatius stood to attention, he was attired typically. Tired and tattered First Imperial greatcoat. With a tunic smeared and stained beneath it.

“Sorry, if I uh, I intruded.” Ignatius conceded, bowing his head to the Mongrel. The beast was increasingly deformed. Terrifyingly so. This new form was definitely the worst. So unnerving. So strange. The Mongrel was already a horrifying presence. One who even the murmur of his presence could make sweat cold. But this new body, it made him unsightly and uncomfortable to look. “I just needed to get a moment outside of the,” he wanted so desperately to call it the bilge, “Cargo bay.” He swallowed, “Also,” He took a long drag, as he cleaved the cigarette from his mouth, “I did want to ascertain, intelligence.” Not that there was much aboard that could be mustered. “Have we received any word from say the Final Dawn? Or anyone for that matter?” Rausgeber inquired, “Do we have say, a check on numbers? How many the Alliance has mustered?”

Kerri shook his head. But did not speak. That was for the Mongrel to say. Ignatius took another drag, and swallowed. “Can’t be too bad mate,” Kerri mused, the weequay mused, licking his chapped lips, “Look at the lickin’ we’ve given these wastes of skin ‘fore, they’re a buncha cowardly wankah’s, who we’re gonna kick the arse outta ‘gain.” Kerri asserted with a vicious grin, “Don’t matter what they ‘ave. The Maw’s strong, and we’re gonna win. Right? Paint our 'ands with their blood.” He deferred to the Mongrel again.

Ignatius was not as certain. Coruscant. Csilla. Just the general decrepit nature of the Maw, it made his skin crawl. “Cap’n,” One of the Auxiliary pilots called, his hair slicked back with thick motor grease. In fact, his entire body was smeared with it, besides from the torn up booty shorts comfortably preserving the shape of his posterior, “Got us an ETA,” The technician called, “We got ‘bout three till we get to Adraforpe.”

Kerri approached one of the other consoles, manned by a Marauder, “Right you lot,” He snapped, “Get the stealth drive up. And get us ready. Don’t want us to become a bloody hot friggin’ target for the scum when we arrive!” He then turned to Ignatius, “Reckon lad you should tool up.” Kerri smirked, “I fink, us and the guv’na here,” He quickly glanced over to the Mongrel, “We’re gonna get our ‘ands dirty.”

 

[Enyo Typhos]

Gear: Armour, lightsabre, Shotgun, Grenades, misc. det packs, Sidearm, Ion Paddle Beamer, Cryo-Ban Gun.
Location: Boarding GA's SSD
Allies: Maw
Enemies: GA, Jax Thio

Amidst the carnage in space, one torpedo among many went unnoticed. After all, there was a lot going on in the endless void. It was, however, not an ordinary torpedo. ArmaTech designed quality. It did not, however, carry an explosive payload. It was little more than a tube with the bare minimum needed to transport its cargo - temperature regulator and a few plates of durasteel armour.

No life support, no lights, nothing really. The cargo was sentient. Enyo remained calm and motionless as the torpedo shot towards the massive battleship. She knew that fighting would be going in the hangar. It was, after all, the logical place to board. Certainly if one wanted to deploy large numbers of troops.

But she was not going there. The torpedo was angled towards the SSD's aft section, aiming for a weak spot near where trash and other waste products were expelled. With engine boosters, it hit the target zone incredibly fast. The Individual Field Disruptor flared to life, allowing it to bypass shields and go straight for the hull. Forward facing hull cutting ring and other devices cut a small hole, hauling the torpedo into the vessel.

Boom. Side panels erupted, sending shrapnel in all directions. A guard was speared by the hot shards and killed ere he could act. The door opened, and the Terminatrix emerged from the boarding torpedo, armed and clad from head to toe in armour. Her intended destination was the engines. Of course, she would probably run into opposition on the way.

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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L I B E R T Y' S_G A T E

FINAL DAWN
ADRATHOPRE , EXPANSION REGION

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3 HOURS AGO…

Marlon Sularen’s Personal T-4b Imperial Shuttle emerged from Hyperspace arriving at Adrathorpe where a Large Fleet of Final Dawn Vessels known as Wraith Squadron anxiously awaited for his arrival. The Brotherhood of the Maw had just suffered a major defeat at the hands of the Galactic Alliance at Jedha and had been forced to withdraw from the World when the tides had turned against them especially after the 6th Sector Fleet broke through Wraith Squadron’s Blockade and contested the Final Dawn in the skies of Jedha. After the Battle , remaining Elements of Wraith Squadron had regrouped at Adrathorpe minus the Invector-Class Monitor Frigates and Subjugator-Class Assault Ships which were already on route to Copero for repairs after the damage sustained at Jedha.

Wraith Squadron itself had taken a beating from the 6th Sector Fleet. 1 Praetorian-Class Star Destroyer and a Supremacy-Class had been destroyed and 30% of the entire Squadron’s Fighter Complement not to mention that more than half of the Fleet had sustained considerable damage from the 6th Sector with some Vessels having their shield’s depleted by the time they had been forced to withdraw completely from Jedha. While most Ships had replenished their Shields by now , Wraith Squadron was still shaken by this Defeat as most of the Squadron’s Personnel expected a total victory over the Alliance at Jedha only to face a decisive defeat and be forced to withdraw to a nearby world to regroup. Nevertheless the confirmation that Grand Overseer Marlon Sularen survived the Battle at Jedha gave hope to the brave men of Wraith Squadron once more as they still believed that next time they would be able to best their opponents within the Galactic Alliance. However unbeknownst to them , this “next time” would happen right here in orbit of Adrathorpe and would be a complete nightmare for Wraith Squadron.

As Sularen’s Shuttle landed within the Hangar of the Predator , the Grand Overseer was met by gathered Final Dawn Naval Officers , 439th Stormtroopers , Raptor Commandos , TIE Pilots , Gunners , other Personnel who cheered as the Grand Overseer emerged from the Shuttle now conscious and in a good condition. These men were extremely loyal to Sularen and seeing him emerge triumphant after a direct confrontation with a Jedi Master and slip away from the grasp of the Galactic Alliance at Jedha boosted their morale at a time where they had been devastated by the outcome of the Battle of Jedha. However this celebration was cut short as suddenly the alarms of the Predator started ringing as an Officer entered the Hangar and shouted out. “An Alliance Fleet has emerged from Hyperspace. They’ve been pursuing us!” Sularen then turned to address the gathered men around him. “Quickly! Man your Battlestations. We might have survived Jedha but the War isn’t over yet.” He said , ordering his men to quickly disperse and return to their assigned duties. It seemed that the Alliance had come to finish the job , but Wraith Squadron would stand firm and hold their line and show them who was clearly superior.

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Throughout the Early Stages of the Battle , Wraith Squadron had managed to maintain their strong and secure formation utilizing a similar strategy to that used by the OG Galactic Empire at Jakku with the Predator and the Purifier , two of the strongest Vessels of the assembled Wraith Squadron protected by a two-layer ring of Star Destroyers and Pocket Star Destroyers which occasionally opened up to allow the Predator and Purifier to unleash their combined firepower upon Alliance Warships via Alpha Strikes against a single Alliance Warship. Through this Strategy , Wraith Squadron was able to hold off the 6th Sector Fleet’s Continuous attacks maintaining their Formation even as the First Line of Supremacies sustained heavy punishment from the Alliance Forces with the first wave of Reinforcements from from both sides arriving to support the efforts of both Wraith Squadron and the 6th Sector Fleet as they tried to achieve a decisive victory and force the other fleet to retreat.

However as the Battle over Adarthorpe further escalated with the arrival of further reinforcements , both the Fleets of the Brotherhood of the Maw and the Galactic Alliance found themselves caught in the middle of a sudden emergence of the remains of Csilla which struck both the Mawite and Alliance Fleets and dealing severe damage to both sides. However this was the least of their problems as the emergence had rendered navigation nearly impossible for both fleets leaving only one escape vector left for the two sides , and thus what had started as an Alliance pursuit immediately transformed into a all-out-brawl for survival as the both Alliance and Mawite Fleets both broke formation now desperate to secure the only escape vector left transforming the Battlefield into an unrecognizable mess of Alliance and Mawite Warships engaging in numerous broadsides while Starfighters Squadrons from both Sides sought to protect both their Faction’s respective Capital Ships while also seeking to destroy the enemy’s own Capital Ships. The Battle over Adarthorpe was far from over , and time would tell who would emerge victorious.

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It had been over 3 Hours since the Battle over Adarthorpe had begun , and so much had happened. What had started as an Alliance pursuit had transformed into a massive chaotic Battle for survival and now both Fleets had resorted to an all-out-brawl as Warships had moved out of formation , rushing to secure the only escape vector with constant broadsides and close-exchanges between opposing warships with some Warships resorting to suicidal tactics such as Ramming enemy vessels or dragging others towards the surface of Adarthorpe where the Planet’s gravitational pull would doom both.

As a result of the Emergence and the subsequent rush to secure control of the escape vector , Wraith Squadron had broken formation resulting in it being split up into smaller groups, the largest being centered around the Predator and the Purifier , flagships of Marlon Sularen and Kaine Hamilton respectively. This group , dubbed Task Force Vader, had found itself isolated from the other three smaller groups although it was the closest group to the only Escape Vector. However despite this , Task Force Vader had found itself surrounded by Alliance Warships who had begun hammering the Fleet with the intent to destroy it or atleast prevent them from escaping. Despite being outnumbered Task Force Vader had made use of the same tactics utilized by Wraith Squadron earlier in the battle to avoid total annihilation, although unlike earlier , Task Force Vader was outnumbered and surrounded on all sides making it hard for the Predator and Purifier to effectively concentrate fire on one ship before enemy Warships would move in and jointly open fire on both vessels. Nevertheless the crew of the vessels of Task Force Vader remained determined to fight to the bitter end, refusing to surrender or accept defeat ready to take as many enemy lives as possible before they too would meet their end.

From the Bridge of the Predator , Sularen watched as a Squadron of B-wings launched a bombing run against one of Task Force Vader's Supremacy-Is crippling it as they hit one of the main Hull Breaches of the Star Destroyer causing a Massive explosion on it's Starboard side. While Sularen remained calm throughout this whole ordeal , his Bridge Crew were constantly bombarded with reports of new developments on the Battlefield.


"Alliance Starfighters have broken through our Starfighter Screen!"

"We've just lost the Desecrator and the Thunderbolt!"

"Task Force Lumiya is requesting aid!"

Sularen watched as the crippled and disabled Supremacy began to list on it's Starboard side before a Second bombing run from those same B-Wings finished it off creating a gap within the lines of Wraith Squadron. A gap which rendered the Predator Vulnerable to Starfighter Attacks. From his Tactical Datapad Sularen noticed enemy Warships were now beginning to converge on this new opening and since the lines of Task Force Vader were already pretty much stretched out closing the gap was not an option. But to Sularen this was an opportunity he could exploit and this was exactly what Task Force Vader needed , an opportunity to break out of this encirclement and link up with the remaining elements of Wraith Squadron before launching a final offensive towards the escape Vector. Thus the Predator began to slowly turn around while charging it’s main batteries to open fire on the ships converging on the gap , ready to unleash hell upon the Alliance. The Lion's Cage had been opened and it was about time the Hunters became the Hunted. Today , the Alliance would get a taste at what defeat truly felt like.

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Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• The Lead Supremacy-Class Star Destroyer of Task Force Lumiya is destroyed by Liedran Kathause 's Forces
• Another Supremacy-Class is destroyed by Tren Chaar 's B-Wing Flight Group resulting in the formation of a major Gap within the Lines of Task Force Vader rendering the Predator vulnerable
• In response to this new Development Sularen has the Predator turn around to face the gap directly in preparation for a major strike against Alliance Vessels converging towards the Gap.

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Tags [BotM/FD] | Tu'teggacha | Kenth Berik | Xuan Vo | Aldo Garrick | Electra-12 | Electra-13 | Dyans Keto | Haon Hafey
Tags [GA] | Constantine Oliva | Liedran Kathause | Syndulla Command | Bashir | Zahara Myneto | Cordé Sabo | Mylo Thorne | Cynthia Alucard | Leon Gallo | Kaul "Joker" Emos ​

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[Jax Thio]

Location: The Liberator
Equipment: Alliance Jedi Guardian Armor, Jax's Prosthetic Arm, Jax's Second Lightsaber, Promise Ring to Jairdain
Tag: Enyo Typhos (Enemy)

Jax heard the blaring of alarms while personnel and pilots alike scrambled to their positions. The Jedi Master was stationed in one of the Galactic Alliance's Superstar Destroyers: The Liberator and was tasked to repel it from Brotherhood boarders. Just when the fleet exited from hyperspace, the Brotherhood Fleet was waiting for them. Instead of being the aggressors, the GA once again found themselves on the defensive as fighters began swarming the Starfighters like flies. Hands clasped behind his back, Jax was at the observatory room observing the large window in front of him. From afar, Jax found the multicolored explosions and streams of light mesmerizing. Of course years of fighting, dispelled the beauty of battle but Jax would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the thrill of battle. To jump into the action, having his life on the line as he fought against his enemy.

The Jedi Master closed his eye, trying to allow the Force calm him down, back then Jax would've thrown himself into anything just because he loved the adrenaline and was filled with guilt. However, years of reflection and the friendships he had made along the way caused Jax to change his outlook on life. There were things to fight for and the Force will always be a constant. There were people to fight for, people to protect. Jax is a Jedi born and bred he lost himself ever since Master Oda died and it took Jax years to recover. He couldn't give in to despair now, to wallow in his guilt Jax is a Jedi Master and there were people like Jairdain and Spasa counting on him to come back alive.

To Jax's right, Vice Admiral Lincol Felste stuck his pipe in his mouth his blue eyes scanning the battlefield. They were supposed to catch the Brotherhood undetected, yet they were waiting for them? "We've made a blind jump," Admiral Lincol said. "How in blazes did they-"

"Were waiting for us?" Jax responded adjusting his eyepatch. "Don't forget Vice Admiral that the Brotherhood have plants within the Alliance, It's hard to trust anyone ever since the sacking of Coruscant."

"Sir!" One of the Naval operators said. "Enemy has launched torpedo towards the aft section!"

"Can we intercept it?!" Lincol said.

"Negative!"

"Brace for impact!" Lincol yelled while Jax held on to the railing. The Vice Admiral was an honorable man who was father to his troops. Felste was a veteran of the Omega War leading ships into battle. Yet when he and Jax first met, Felste mentioned that he had never faced an enemy as fanatical as the Brotherhood.

The Star Destroyer shuddered violently, Jax nearly lost his balance but otherwise remained standing. "Report!" Felste said staring at his officers.

"We have boarders in the hangar bay!" An officer said. "They're beginning to attack!"

"All right people," Felste said. "We're in combat alert alpha, we need to stick to the plan and begin the assault. The boarders will most likely the engine core. Master Thio."

Jax stood at attention. "Yes sir," he said.

"Go and give our friends a warm welcome. I'm putting the Marines under your command."

Jax smirked. "I thought you never ask," he said as he ran out of the bridge. "Attention combat personel!" Jax yelled into his radio. "Report to your stations! Fifth and fourteenth platoon! You're with me! Redevouz to the hangar and repel those boarders! Fireteam Charlie defend the engine room!"

Another day, another battle let's see how this one will fare.

 

[Constantine Oliva]

The Eleventh Flotilla was en-route to reinforce the armada chasing the Brotherhood to Adrathrope. There, the plan was to finally eliminate the threat of the Mawite fleet. A victory to be remembered. We’d been too late for Jedha, too late to participate in the great victory there. After Couscant, we wanted blood.

Aboard the bridge of the Revenge, I stood waiting. Only about an hour until arrival. If all was going to plan as I’d heard, we’d be emerging from hyperspace just behind allied lines to then move wherever we were needed. Long-range scanners were reporting a clear shot to our egress point. Comms from the fleet reported success so far.

That all ended in a sudden moment.

“Sir!” The officer in charge of scanners called out. “We’re detecting massive objects in the Adrathorpe Sector! They just appeared from nowhere!”

“Are they in the way?” I snapped back.

“Sir, they’re covering the sector! At least a hundred Star-Destroyer sized objects are in the way.”

Damn.
​

“Signal the flotilla! We’re dropping out of hyperspace now and recalculating!”

“Yessir!”

In moments, the Eleventh was out of hyperspace, between distant stars. Organized chaos had set in among the twenty vessels as the commanders of each ship discussed what to do. Reports funneled in from the Alliance fleet. Massive asteroids had emerged in the sector, wreaking havoc.

As a new path was charted, I stared into the void. The situation had changed dramatically. By the time we emerged from hyperspace two hours later, the battle had devolved into a chaotic race to the only opening in the asteroid field…

Objective: Eliminate All Brotherhood Forces, Assist Allied Vessels To Escape.

Spoiler: Eleventh Flotilla

253rd Line

Spoiler: Eleventh Flotilla

Revenge​	Moving Into Position
Glory	Moving Into Position
Triumph	Moving Into Position
Adventure	Moving Into Position
Raptor	Moving Into Position
5 Oswaft-Class Corvettes	Moving Into Position

72nd Line​

Warspite​	Moving Into Position
Defiance	Moving Into Position
Endurance	Moving Into Position
Firebrand	Moving Into Position
Majestic	Moving Into Position
4 Lateran-Class Corvettes	Moving Into Position
Oberon	Moving Into Position

​

​

The Eleventh Flotilla emerged from hyperspace, ready for combat. Though we weren’t on the battlefield yet, that would soon change. Our mission by this point was to move to the opening, and hold it for allied forces to move through. Any Mawite forces attempting to escape were to be destroyed.


“--od luck. Warspite out.”

The final ship-of-the-line had checked in. The Star Destroyer was the largest vessel I had ever commanded, and the beastly battleship would be key to holding the line in the coming fight. Each ship in the Eleventh was present and knew their orders.

All too slowly, the formation began making its way towards the opening. Heavy Cruisers at the front, centered around the Warspite, the flotilla would be a formidable opponent to any lone Brotherhood ship.

“Have we been able to contact the forces still trapped inside?” I asked the Comms Chief.

“To an extent, sir, but the asteroids are blocking our signals.” She responded curtly. “It's all somewhat garbled.”

“And our scanners?”

“Even worse sir,” The bothan spoke again. “We can’t tell the positions of anything in the field.”

I sat for a moment, thinking.

“Try contacting the alliance forces inside. Send them the following message--” I took a moment to let a recording to begin “--This is Rear Admiral Oliva. My flotilla has arrived in the sector, we are moving into position to hold open the gap.”

The message would likely be somewhat garbled, but it was the best we could do. Even the mighty communications equipment of the Revenge would have difficulty with the asteroid field.

Tags: Liedran Kathause Zahara Myneto Syndulla Command Bashir
Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen Kenth Berik Aldo Garrick​

 

[Cruanless Orcash]

Objective: Assist the Fleet and destroy the Brotherhood's Naval Forces
Location: MC-75 Star Cruiser, "The Reverence"
Allies: GA | NIO Liedran Kathause Constantine Oliva Zahara Myneto Syndulla Command
Enemies: BOTM Marlon Sularen

[Captain Cruanless Orcash reporting in]


Theme: Time to fight Evil / GA Anthem​

Captain Cruanless Orcash now glanced out the bridge view as the Reverance exited hyperspace a while ago. His flagship was now moving to join with the rest of the fleet. They were a bit behind but here none the less.

Then as they made their way closer to the fleet, Massive emergences suddenly came through hyperspace. The bridge erupted in alert.

"SIR, MASSIVE OBJECTS EMERGED FROM HYPERSPACE, THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, ACROSS THE WHOLE DAMN SECTOR"

"What is it?"

"Sir, look", spoke his second, Pappus.

The Captain turned his command chair to see the horror. Massive rock clusters the size of dreadnoughts dropped out all over the Adrathrope sector. Many ships were destroyed, on both sides of the Brotherhood and the Alliance.

"Hard to port, 60 degrees"

"Aye sir, hard to port, 60".

"What are they", asked Jagrall, his Sarkhai Lieutenant.

It only took a moment for Orcash to see the rocky asteroids and know it was from a planetoid. He only knew for sure moments later when he made out some surface level landscape still recognizable. At that point he grew shocked and stunned.

"Sir?"

"It's Csilla"

"But sir, what, how..."

"It is Lieutenant, what else could it be".

"So its not propaganda, they really destroyed it

"Yes my friend, they did".

The entire crew of the Reverance watched in horror as ship after ship were crushed as the emerging asteroids smashed all in their path. It seemed like a matter of time before they were destroyed too. Luckily, they would gain some hope.

"We lost comms, engineering is restoring them as best and quickly as they can, Captain".

"Well, If there is nothing el...."

"Sir!". "Alliance ships are making for a gap in the emerging debris, it is the only secure space left in the area".

"Well then what are waiting for, lets follow them". "Pappus, engines full, 20 to port and then straight". The crew began to cheer briefly as they realized they might not die, crushed by the remnants of the planet Csilla. They weren't out of it yet.

"Aye sir".

The Reverance boosted itself and began to zoom its way towards the gap. Alliance ship in front of them continued and other followed the Reverance's lead as Orcash ordered all ships behind them be told of the ongoing tactic.

Meanwhile, Alliance forces destroyed a group of Brotherhood destroyers and made the gap even more accessible.

A lit while later, after the Reverance had reached relative safety near the gap, Orcash switched on comms. He needed to know who was left, who was in command, and where the fleet needed his cruiser.

There wasn't time for Orcash to substantiate or any grandstanding his Mon Calamari pride. The Brotherhood were too much of threat. The Alliance must stop them.

Orcash would do whatever he could to stop these barbarian hordes, what the cost must be. "Open an Alliance channel Lieutenant, let's hope our short-range comms work at least".

"Yes Captain".

{"Attention any Alliance vessels, this is Captain Orcash of the Star Cruiser Reverance. My ship and crew have survived considerably well. We are in position, awaiting orders". "I am going to meanwhile move my ship in position to defend the out part of the gap that has seems to be the only way out of this sector." I repeat, Reverance holding and awaiting orders, please advise, over".}



"Let's hope someone heard".

"There are Alliance ships all around this sector"

"Yes, but comms might have been damaged during the emergences, we don't know anything for sure".

"We will in a bit gentlemen, don't worry, where good survives, more will come to support it".

The Captain and his crew would now wait until someone got back to them through comms.

"What ships can we identify so far Jagrall?".

"The ANV Cadence, head of the 3rd Expeditionary Fleet, commanded by Commodore Liedran Kathause . Her forces seemed to have only lost a few ships and the fleet is most intact".

"Very well, until another larger Alliance force is located, set course for their position in the meantime".

"Aye sir, setting course, moving to starboard 10 degrees standard".

 

[Tu'teggacha]

Location: Adrathorpe System
Allies: Marlon Sularen
Foes: Liedran Kathause | Constantine Oliva | Cruanless Orcash

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Fatalis pushes toward the opening of the Csillan Emergence
• Tu'teggacha deploys Mawite Buccaneeers and Kitiakira Warbands to repel boarders

Beyond the viewports of the Fatalis, the broken corpse of a dead world tumbled across the Adrathorpe System. Taskmaster Tu'teggacha watched the raging storm of debris, the asteroids - and flashes of laserfire - reflected in his glassy black eyes. Here was the legacy of the world he had helped to shatter, destruction that begat destruction. It had transformed the latest steps in the interstellar fencing match between the Maw and the Alliance - parry at Jedha, riposte at Adrathorpe - into something else entirely. The navigational hazard had suddenly imprisoned both fleets, giving them no easy way to withdraw, so that they fought like felinxes in a bag.

But was the Maw trapped in here with the Alliance, or was it the other way around?

"Push forward!" the Ebruchi demanded, directing the guns of the Mawite flagship to fire at anything that crossed its path. The dreadnought had been hastily refitted after the clash at Nirauan, where the NIO flagship's Starbreaker Cannon had nearly destroyed it with a point-blank seismic blast. The impact had ripped open one of the Fatalis's "wings", flaying the armor from its frame as if with a filleting knife, and the hasty repairs were still visible as an ugly discoloration on the hull. It was like a scar only beginning to heal when the warrior bearing it was thrust back into the battle, a stark reminder that another wound so grievous would put the elusive ship down for good.

Thus far, the Fatalis had proven remarkable at skin-of-the-teeth escapes. The hulking dreadnought invariably drew heavy fire from whatever fleets it was up against as they sought to bring down the most powerful vessel (and most obvious target) in the Mawite arsenal, and it had been nearly destroyed on many occasions. Above Csilla, Korriban, and Nirauan it had only just managed to slip away from the battle before it was destroyed, wriggling out of attempts to interdict it long enough to deliver the killing blow. But this emergence was more than just routine interdiction; it was like a wall around this insignificant system, a wall that had only one gate set into it.

Tu'teggacha intended to reach that gate before the Alliance could seize it.

The Ebruchi was no true believer in the Mawite religion, and had no delusions of rebirth into some paradise to come. He had joined the Maw's dark crusade because it had offered him power. He knew all too well the feeling of being small and helpless, and he had vowed never to let himself be put in such a situation again. So he had made himself indispensable to the Brotherhood, and then he had fed on the terror and pain that spread in their wake, swelling the might of his Dark Side abilities. But he wouldn't die for them. That would defeat the whole purpose of his grand plan, ending his time of power and control. So he was going to win here, or he was going to run.

But it wasn't just the warships of the First Expeditionary Fleet or the Eleventh Flotilla that Tu'teggacha had to worry about this time. In such close quarters, with both sides trapped and seeking every possible advantage to carry the day, the Alliance was just as eager to board enemy ships as the Maw always was. That meant special forces, and probably Jedi, would make their attack on the halls of the Fatalis, doing their best to disable the elusive ship before it could slip away again. The Taskmaster could not allow that. He would have to not only push through the enemy fleets and secure an escape from this backwater system, but also prepare to repel boarders.

"Deploy the Kitiakira," he commanded, and all across the dreadnought Mawites scrambled to obey. The elite Kitiakira Warbands specialized in shipboard combat, which usually meant boarding someone else's ships... but their deadly weapons and well-honed tactics would be just as dangerous to enemies on their own home craft. And a small legion of Mawite Buccaneers, pirates and marauders from the Unknown Regions who had equal levels of savage enthusiasm - if not equipment or training - would round out their numbers, putting another wall of bodies between the Taskmaster and any who would seek to prevent his escape. Whatever it took, he'd do it.

Let Sularen fight to win. Tu'teggacha would fight to see another day, no matter what.

 

[Tren Chaar]

H A R D _ S I X

ADRATHORPE SECTOR
B-WING HEAVY STARFIGHTER​

---

---

Revenant Squadron Leader: CDR Tren Chaar Five: FLT Kaul "Joker" Emos Seven: FO Leon Gallo Eleven: FO Mylo Thorne Talon Squadron Cordé Sabo Cynthia Alucard Saber Squadron Okkeus Dainlei Brotherhood of the Maw Marlon Sularen Electra-12 Spoiler: Summary - Revenant destroys a Brotherhood Star Destroyer - Revenant receives orders to intercept Nacheria Squadron

Blinding explosions rippled in a cascading chain along the hull of the enemy vessel. A dozen tiny gnats pulled up from their bombing run, putting distance between themselves and their target as the Brotherhood Star Destroyer tore itself apart. The chain of fire erupted along the length of the vessel until it reached the reactor core, at which point the vessel exploded into a billion shattered pieces, taking with it the thousands of crew stationed onboard.

The destruction of the two and a half kilometre long star destroyer would be a worthy addition to Revenant’s battle honours, but only if they survived to make it to the medal ceremony back on Coruscant.

“Good kill, good kill,” Chaar announced as Revenant Squadron wove through the obstacle-laden battlefield. The derelict hulls of destroyed Alliance and Brotherhood ships drifted between massive asteroid-like objects, creating every-shifting threats to navigation. But these were no ordinary asteroids, rather a vile reminder of the Brotherhood’s early attack on the innocents of the galaxy.

They were chucks of Csilla, hurtled through hyperspace following the destruction of the Chiss homeward by Darth Solipsis and his crazed devotees.

But now was not the time for Revenant Squadron to reflect on the horrid actions of the Brotherhood, not while the Alliance fleet was fighting for survival. Their pursuit of the defeated Brotherhood forces fleeing Jedha had led them to Adrathorpe, where a planned decisive victory had been thwarted by the hyperspace emergence from Csilla. Both sides were now fighting over the only viable hyperspace route out of the sector. All Alliance personnel with the slightest piloting acumen had been ordered into a cockpit, with the veterans of Revenant leading the charge.

Chaar swung his B-wing between the floating hulk of a dead Alliance frigate and a chunk of Csilla as the two objects drifted toward one another. Emerging back into the open he snapped a quartet of laser blasts at a passing flight of Brotherhood starfighters, caught off guard by Revenant emerging from between the debris. He was rewarded with an explosion as one of the shots hit its mark. Another kill credit to his name.

“Revenant, Cadence. We’ve got Splinters carving a path toward the Endurance.” Chaar looked to his tactical display, which highlighted a squadron of ‘Splinters’ - TIE/fdH multi-role starfighters were making short work Alliance starfighters near the 11th Flotilla. The reporting name referenced their sharp wings compared to regular TIE fighters, which were designated Eyeballs. An elite squadron then - perfect, the kill counts would be double or even triple weighted. He could already feel the Order of Skywalker being draped around his neck.

“Acknowlegde Cadence,” Chaar replied to the flight controller. “Revenant, Leader. New tasking - seek and destroy enemy Splinters in sector 31-Mern.” The Umbaran threw his control to the left the wheeled his B-wing around to set an approach vector toward Electra-12 and her squadron.

 

[Traden Avarice]

III: STEEL AND BONE
TEAM SKYWALKER
​

Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, Lightsaber
Primary Adversary: Rannan Kol
Additional Tags: Ignatius Rausgeber , The Mongrel
Ally Tags: Open


Traden stood still, His intense blue eyes looking out from the bridge of the GA Vessel at the chaos that had now consumed the Galactic Alliance’s advance against the Maw and the Final Dawn fleets. All resemblance of rank and order within the fleet structures was long gone, replaced by frantic mad men making a desperate dash towards the only known exit vector.

He stood slightly behind Jax Thio , the Jedi Master he had just recently helped to save from his engagement with Marlon Sularen on Jedha. It had been his first official encounter with the man, and he had chosen to join him and the armada in pursuit of the fleeing Final Dawn and Mawite forces. He was still technically relieved from active duty with the War Hogs due to the devastating losses his squad had taken during the battle of Coruscant, but he could not rest at a time like this. Rest would lead him inevitably to a very dark place that he could not afford to go. He instead continued to wander from conflict to conflict… it seemed in some bizarre way as if it was in fact a pre-determined path before the Force Master’s feet. And so here he was, in the midst of a chaotic fray in the stars.

His heart was constantly weighed down with grief, a weight that was unbearable if he were to meditate on it for more than a moment. He was trying to be transparent with the force, to not shield or hide himself… however he had never experienced anything quite like this. It was proving… difficult.

He suddenly caught his mind drifting back to the ever present yet subconsciously suppressed thoughts of his late wife, Reme. The image of her dead and torn body shielding their precious daughter, Kita. The sound of Kita sobbing in her mothers dead grasp, confused at why her mother refused to respond to her plea’s to get up…. Traden’s scream of horror as he rushed to the two loves of his life… collapsing upon them and holding them tightly as he wept, unwilling to accept reality…. The true horror of Coruscant that had occurred just months ago for the force master...

Traden snapped back to reality as a lone tear fell down his cheek, his face still refusing to show emotion. He quickly brushed it away with his hand and closed his eyes, focusing in on the force as his only source of comfort, as his ever present confidant who knew the deepest recesses of his own soul better than anyone else.

And he shared his grief with the force… allowing the emotion to exist and to be felt in solemn intimacy with the force.

He braced himself as the torpedo impacted the vessel, shuttering under the impact. Traden listened as Jax Thio was informed of the boarding party and placed in command of the marines. Traden looked out the viewport again… inviting the force to give him direction in that moment… to provide him clarity and focus in the midst of the chaos… to continue to lead him down this unknown path of his.

Suddenly Traden focused in on a presence… he felt something… and it was strong with the force….
He looked out into the chaos for its source, unable to see any visual confirmation. But the presence was calling to him… It was beckoning him out into the fray. He sensed many life forms… a ship… but where?

He searched…. But then he knew… He knew what he needed to do…

He needed to trust the force.

He placed his hand on Jax Thio ’s shoulder, “May the force be with you, mate…. I have my own path.” Traden gave him a nod of mutual respect, then left towards the hangar as Jax journeyed towards the engines to confront the intruder.

____________________________

Traden entered the busy cargo bay as pilots prepped their fighters and soldiers and crew ran about with purpose. He walked past them, staring out the open cargo bay doors into the chaos of ship combat.

The dark presence beckoned him out into the void. He closed his eyes as it filled his mind with different thoughts… thoughts that were not his own. Whoever this was, they were strong with the force…

And he knew that their paths were destined to cross.

Traden focused in on the location of the presence. He pulled out his Jedi Breathing Device with one hand and placed it over his mouth, and what he did next would seem insane and suicidal to the marines and pilots around him…

He began to sprint towards the cargo bay door with all his might, his arms swinging by his sides as he leapt up with the force and shot out of the open cargo bay doors and out into the void of space.

Although he could not see the vessel with his natural eyes, he could sense the life forms aboard it, and more importantly, the strong force presence that called him out into the void to meet it.

The lone Force master shot out quietly and unnoticed through the midst of chaotic space battle, blaster bolts and fighters just barely missing him, as he drew closer to the vessel he knew was on approach… The Bunghole… which would come out of hyperspace right in front of him just moments before he would collide with the vessel.

 

[The Mongrel]

Location: Adrathorpe System, the Bunghole
Allies: Ignatius Rausgeber | Keilara Kala'myr
Foes: Open

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The Mongrel gives a mission briefing
• He contacts Mercy for an update

This ship looked like it smelled awful, but he couldn't tell.

A sense of smell apparently hadn't made the list of priorities to be included in The Mongrel's new form, this cybernetic mockery of a human body topped with his transparent brain case. Neither had taste, not that he had any of the requisite parts to eat anyway, nor touch beyond the basics of registering pressure and impact. All of that had been lost with his organic body, stripped away gradually in battle after battle. He was stronger now, and faster, and more durable. They had made him for war, and for nothing else. Such was his fate.

It bothered him more than it should have, warred with his faith in the Avatars to be so reduced... but for once, he was at least a little bit glad for it, because he couldn't smell the Bunghole. To say that the stealthy smuggling ship had been poorly maintained was like calling a krayt dragon a slightly oversized pet, and now it was crammed with the unwashed bodies of a great many Mawite auxiliaries. It was not an elegant solution to the problem at hand, but The Mongrel had been forced to develop the plan on short notice, so it would have to do.

His rank afforded him a more comfortable position than the wretches crammed into the cargo hold, at least. The warlord stood on the bridge, staring into the churning void of hyperspace - a reflection of the growing void in his own soul, the emptiness that threatened daily to drag him down. How much longer? he asked the darkness, knowing there would be no answer. How much longer must I serve? How much more must I do? How many more times must I die, before I can pass at last into the Galaxy To Come? He was tired now.

So terribly, terribly tired, despite his tireless metal form.

The bridge doors slid open behind him, jerking him from his grim reverie, and he turned to face the one they called Iggy. The man was hardly the model of a Mawite warrior, no musclebound brute or zealous fanatic, but The Mongrel had learned not to underestimate him. It was Iggy who had seen him brought low on Coruscant, and had helped to snatch him from the jaws of death there. It was Iggy who had somehow survived the devastation of Rhand, escaping the near total destruction of the planet's surface by his wits alone.

The Mongrel only half listened when the others spoke, his mind far away. There was a moment's awkward silence when they stopped speaking, a long pause before the warlord began to answer the unlikely auxiliary's questions. "The Final Dawn's Terror Squadron has already engaged the enemy," he said, his mechanical voice both booming and grating upon the ears, "as has the Brotherhood warfleet. But they have become trapped in an emergence of hyperspace debris, forcing a close-quarters confrontation with the Alliance."

Preliminary reports from the system, where the battle had been underway for some hours already, were not good. The Alliance had wanted to crush the Brotherhood's naval assets, pushing into Mawite territory after their successful defense of Jedha, and the emergence had given them a perfect opportunity to pin down the Maw far more effectively than a fleet of interdictors ever could. But it remained a dangerous situation for them, too. If the battle turned against them, it'd be equally difficult for them to retreat.

"The Alliance flagship, the Momentous Triumph, leads their attack," The Mongrel continued, holding out a hand palm-up before him. A holoimage appeared above it: the Alliance super star destroyer, slowly revolving through his fingers. "Crippling the Triumph would be a tremendous blow to their morale, and likely swing the tide of battle in our favor, allowing us to break their fleet while it cannot withdraw and secure an advantage in the coming campaign." And take some revenge for the defeat at Jedha, too.

"My most trusted agent is already aboard," the warlord said, preparing a holotransmission that would go out as soon as the Bunghole dropped out of hyperspace. "She will guide us in locating key targets to sabotage." The message he was about to send was a simple one: "Mercy, we are en route to the Alliance flagship. Secure a map of the decks for us, and we will join you soon." The Mongrel knew that she would do exactly as instructed. She was his secret weapon, his most prized infiltrator.

She would help them turn this attack back on the Alliance.

 

[Electra-12]

Location: Hangar Bay A-4, The Predator -> Space - Adrathorpe Sector
Call Sign: Nacheria Seven
Objective: I - Hard Six
Equipment: TIE Pilot Flight Suit │ Hekler’Kok FP-01
Allies: BotM ( Marlon Sularen Tu'teggacha )
Enemies: GA ( Tren Chaar Constantine Oliva Liedran Kathause )
Theme: You Missed

The repetitive, droning sound of blaring klaxons filled the ace’s ears as she drew her flight suit up onto her narrow shoulders, before sealing the garment with a singular pull of the zipper. From there, she worked quickly to fix her jet black hair into a bun, before finally sealing the flight helmet over her head, partially drowning out the ambient noise in the process. However, she knew that the relative calm within her helmet and by extension, the Predator, was starkly contrasted by the pandemonium transpiring outside, wrought by a mysterious hyperspace storm. While she had yet to comprehend the nature of the storm, Electra-12 was well aware that the were trapped within in its eye, with a large Alliance fleet and starfighter contingent bearing down on their position.

Her assignment? Drive them back.

Moving through the dark passageways of the Predator at a brisk, yet disciplined pace as scarlet-clad Stormtroopers marched past the comparatively tiny pilot, Electra-12 reached the hangar bay and quickly descended down the ladder leading into the ball-shaped cockpit of her newly-assigned TIE. Nevertheless, with the controls being quite similar between this TIE and her previous, the clone manipulated them with nigh-instinctual efficiency as she set about powering on its systems. The HUD was brought to life with the deft flip of a switch, bathing her cyan features in a crimson glow beneath the Stygian mask of her helmet, her eyes darting back and forth in the process of assessing the various readouts set before them.

Before long, all lights were green.

“This is Nacheria Seven. Pre-flight checks complete, ready for launch.” She intoned softly, before waiting patiently for the voice on the other end.

“Acknowledged, N7. You are clear for launch. Hazard conditions are in effect.”

The ancient howl of her TIE’s twin ion engines sang throughout the hangar as Electra-12 pushed her control sticks forward, driving her machine into the stormy void, amidst a veritable hailstorm of debris flying from seemingly all directions. Warning alerts immediately began to blare into her ears as a large, asteroid-sized mass hurled towards her direction, forcing the Chiss to pull her TIE into a sharp jink in order to avoid the fast-moving hazard, which smashed against the protective aegis of the Predator’s shields in her wake.

Just as she did, her eyes dilated as a TIE/fd far ahead was crumpled as another fast-moving mass struck the craft, sending it careening into the dead hulk of what had been a Final Dawn corvette, erupting in a fiery explosion.

“Eight, keep your sensors active. Those rocks will come from anywhere.” Electra-12 hissed to her wingmate, as she laid in a course towards the harried mass of a nearby Supremacy-class Star Destroyer. “On me! We’re going after those B-Wings.” She continued, pushing her control sticks forward as she did and flipping a switch on her dashboard to fold the wings. “Compress wings and shunt power to engines, we need to-”

Then, just as the clone took her next breath, the star destroyer began to list, before erupting in a series of cascading explosions before her eyes.

Spoiler: Loadout

• TIE/fdH Multi-Role Starfighter
  • Self-Duplicating Missile Launcher [x2]
    • Seismic Missile [x4]
    • Seismic Missile [x4]

 

[Osarla Ridor]

III: STEEL AND BONE | CAPTAIN OF TORTUGA COMPANY
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION
ABOVE ADRATHORPE | MOMENTOUS TRIUMPH

The incredible dreadnought felt like a planet. As many times as she'd been aboard a ship of this magnitude, like the Ouroboros, she was still overtaken with childlike awe at the sheer size of a dreadnought. She'd walked through its infinite hallways, and ended up positioned in the durasteel cathedral of the destroyer's cavernous main hangar, its vaulted ceilings and panelled walls soaring upward and outward in an ecstasy of forced perspective.

And like the Ouroboros, the Momentous Triumph was like its own planet. They had enough bodies, food, medicine, fuel, to last years. And air. Lots of air. Lots of atmosphere control.

Air was a resource to be considered in space.

Breathability was something she oft' took for granted, even in hostile atmospheres. A rebreather did most of the translation between her inhales and exhales, but here, if the air ran out ———

A soft beep from her tech rep, crouched over his datapad, broke her from her thoughts before her sergeant did.

"Captain, you alright?"

Osarla drew in a deep breath — the cold air tasted like metal shavings and the sterile, out-of-the-box, long-chain polymers – and let it out. Her face settled with a solemn smile.

"Better than alright, Sergeant. Ready."

A glance moved from the cragged face of the sergeant, who returned her smile with a nod and concealed his countenance between the iconic marked-up Tortuga Company helmet.

"I want us stationed at each of the exists, and two groups of four at the forward positions in the central space of the hangar. There isn't much cover here, we'll have to be thrifty with storage items. But anyone who arrives here, uninvited, we force out."

All around her, metal groaned. Beneath her feet, metal rang out the sound of connection. Solid, with a distant twang of hollowness. The kind of hollowness that didn't exist in a world made of solid dirt, stone, crust, a molten fire that throbbed in the core of a world.

On the ground, when you fell, you stopped. Gravity just did its job and the draw ended. In space, that didn't happen. If you fell, you floated in a vacuum of nothing, swallowed by sparkling diamonds and unfathomable blackness.

The klaxons that bounced around the hangar made the tightly coiled world feel as if it were spinning on an axis. Her façade remained calm.

Because in that nothingness, there was infinity. Expansive, glorious, untouched, incomprehensible life. Beauty in the Force's stretch of nothing — eternal, beautiful, starry silence. She calmed herself, felt that same nothing and everything move through the cells that composed her. She was as inexplicable as the stars. There was a wonder in that. A wonder worth protecting. A wonder that was shared by all those within her company, and the extra little addition that happened to be in their space in the wake of tumult.

The Force was a tonic.

Bug, the team's technical representative, looked up from the screen. She couldn't see his eyes, but the way his helmet tilted suggested he was looking up at her, exposing the screen of the datapad for her to review. Briefly, she did. Enough to see the schematic layout of the ship and its many, many decks and intricacies relegated to thin lines. Multicoloured pinpricks of lights filled some of the little squares that had been designated as unique locations, such as the engines and shield generators. Small red dots blinked around the outline.

Osarla frowned.

"Incoming." He explained.

The hangar was emptier than normal, only a few long-range freighters and transport shuttles remained. A smattering of random starfighters, but most of the numbers that made the squadrons had been deployed.

Something in the distance shifted. Something that felt like dread and darkness. Something that might have been a red blip on Bug's screen, but a dark swell in The Force's perspective.

The Jedi Master rolled her shoulders, shifting her gaze to her side, where a just-under-thigh-height companion was. Yenna, she'd introduced herself as. Those moments already seemed ages ago. Lost to the exciting thrill of the battle. Her heart seemed good. In the brief exchanges, the youth and the soldier had up to this point, Osarla was reminded of the juvenile tenderness.

At this point, she tilted to look down at the little green, bandaged Knight as her soldiers moved to their positions.

"Darkness is coming. More than marauders. An.." she breathed in again, the faux atmosphere imitating the typical exchange her lungs expected.

She hmmm'd, leaving her description incomplete.

"Y'ready, hun?"

---

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Yenna | Syndulla Command
FOES | BOTM | Dimitri Voltura

 

[Bashir]

CITY OF ASHES
BATTLEGROUP ANDOR
UNKNOWN REGIONS
Liedran Kathause Constantine Oliva Cruanless Orcash
Tu'teggacha Marlon Sularen

Webbed fingers passed over the ancient valachord drawing from each string the somber tones of some neoclassical waltz. Only a single dim glowlamp illuminated the captain's ready room. Beyond its small viewport an active hyperspace corridor cast most else in warm blue. Discordant chimes emanated from his desk's com panel, piercing the melody and drowned everything in silence.

"Status."

"Still a few minutes until we reach Adrathorpe sir," a feminine voice issued, "We're having trouble with long range sensors."

A uniformed mon calamari emerged onto the Starhawk's command deck. More than a simple bridge, from here the efforts of nearly three thousand souls were coordinated by a small cadre of senior officers. Captain Aftab Bashir took his place among them standing over a tactical holotable interface which at the moment displayed a strategic hyperlane chart marked with approximate fleet coordinates.

"Report, commander. What kind of trouble?"

"We've lost contact with the Third and Eleventh," Rana Halcyon offered her superior a reflexive salute, "Sensors were picking up some anomalous readings but the entire system just went dark. Its these damn Unknown Regions, a micro singularity or rogue magnetosphere fouling up our scans. Has to be."

"Perhaps..." he didn't sound as sure.

Many humans were unsettled by Commander Halcyon's thin distorted physique. She was a corellian who had been raised in space over neighboring Duro, her limbs and features stretched after a lifetime in low gravity environments. Bashir often found her insight tremendously valuable yet this time he could not help but wonder if there was more to the battleship's sudden inexplicable equipment failure.

City of Ashes plunged from hyperspace in a blur of pseudomotion. Alert klaxons wailed.

"Emergency evasive! Reinforce forward deflector-"

Hull impacts nearly drove Captain Bashir off his feet when the massive Starhawk's inertial dampening briefly cut out. Once he regained a grip on the holotable and its feed rematerialized it was just in time to witness one of their escorts the Endurance carrier Snowbird broken in half by cosmic debris the size of a small moon.

"Give me max sublight!" Aftab clung to the holotable like an ancient sea captain overtaken by storms, "Get us the depths out of here!"

"Something massive on short range. Captain, its the Maw!"

Bulbous amphibian eyes blinked slowly at the flickering outline of a brutal star dreadnought. He only had seconds to determine if this was some kind of elaborate trap. Fight or flight instincts dominated everyone's thoughts.

"Charge the magnite crystal arrays."

"Sir," Rana nodded, "That will compromise our escape velocity."

"Noted."

Spoiler: Summary

• Advance elements of Battlegroup Andor arrive in hazardous proximity to the emergence.
• Charging magnite crystal heavy tractor beams while in pursuit of the Maw star dreadnought Fatalis.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent | Marauder and agent of the Maw​

Objective III.: Steel and Bone | Sabotage the ship
Location: Aboard the Triumph
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: The Mongrel | Ignatius Rausgeber | Open
Enemies: Open

[ Mitternacht ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

I almost didn’t even set off when I heard a familiar sound on the communication channel. To tell you the truth, I was already expecting to receive the orders, or just the requests. Now, however, I could not send him data in advance. This was a very unfortunate way; and it would have been very pleasant and comfortable. Next time I would have to get on the bird even before they left and set off to attack us. Infiltration into the Galactic Alliance? It’s an interesting idea, although I thought it wasn’t the easiest task, as you can expect that, especially because of the actions of Darth Solipsis . Yes, I'm trying to keep track of what's happening in the galaxy. It's necessary as an agent, isn't it?

~ Connection failed, network is protected. I suggest a manual solution. ~ he answered me.

However, unfortunately, what I was expecting happened; MANIAC could not crack the system, so it was protected. I didn’t doubt his answer, as I was counting on it. In such a place, it would have been strange if there was no protection against wireless attacks. He wished they hadn’t, but unfortunately GA wasn’t that amateur. Fortunately, however, MANIAC was able to help even if I was trying to get data from a terminal. He was able to project the codes and appropriate commands onto my retina and I could type them into the terminal.

And internal protection is usually less. After all, who thinks someone is trying to hack such a facility with a droid inside? Not many; fortunately. But first, I had to reply to the Warlord, as the whole thought came from the fact that he needed the data and he had already messaged me about it.

<< Warlord, this is Mercy. I landed aboard the Triumph at this moment, but their system is protected from wireless attacks; so I have to get internal maps using manual methods. I will be working on the case; I'll get them by the time you arrive aboard. When it happens you'll have the requested data. >> I answered quickly to him.

I’ve never let him down before, I didn’t plan to start it today. Fortunately, the fighting in the hangar had already begun, so I was able to move easily and avoid the enemy and our own troops as well in the beneficial embrace of my cloaking device. I have to say, it is infinitely simple to get a code cylinder in a place like this; I basically just had to bow down for one when I walked past a dead soldier or officer. True, I haven’t used it yet, I just had to wait moments for the hangar door to open and reinforcements to arrive. And then I slipped in the direction of the inside of the ship.

I didn’t want to occupy the central control room, even a smaller engineering room was perfectly enough, or just a common terminal that anyone could use. Whatever, the maps are installed on any of these so the ship’s crew can easily navigate on the deck. The place was quite a maze, but in the end I managed to find a place that was secluded enough and no one was around. As soon as I entered the room, I already knew the reason, it was one of the dining rooms, and luckily I had some datapads on the tables as well.

I smiled under my helmet; it was time to get to work and get those maps and coordinates for the Warlord.

 

[Elena Lowe]

Cadet Elena Lowe | Talon Squadron
Allies: Tren Chaar | Cordé Sabo | Cynthia Alucard | M Milo Thorne
Enemies: Electra-12 | Marlon Sularen

​

“‘All personnel’ obviously doesn’t mean cadets, idiot.” Elena said, rolling her eyes. “Let’s just stay put here and if we see Sarge we’ll ask him what he needs us to do.” She sat down on the edge of the bunk, glancing over at Kara, a fellow cadet, as they nervously rearranged the equipment in their footlocker.

“CADETS!” came a booming voice down the hall.

“Ah, kark.”

“I NEED YOU IN FLIGHT SUITS IN TWO MINUTES!”

“Yes Sergeant!” Came the chorus of replies from down the hall, Elena’s own voice joining the chorus.

Receiving a pointed look from Kara, Elena bounded out the hall, skidding around the ship’s corridors as her feet pounded the durasteel flooring to the rhythm of the klaxon. She halted and swung herself into the locker room, the other cadets following close behind her.

A set of flight suits was already waiting for them. The equipment was identical to the standard Alliance kit, but for several bright stripes and bold lettering reading ‘TRAINEE PILOT’ along the arms and the front of the helmet. Elena pulled it on and adjusted the fitting on her helmet. All the good equipment had gone to the actual pilots, she supposed.

Suited up, the cadets exited out the back door, where the Sergeant was waiting for them.

"FOLLOW ME CADETS!"

"Yes sir!"

They moved towards the hangar at a jog, moving as fast as they could in their suits while the Sergeant explained the mission.

The Maw's fleet was on the approach, emerging from behind the shattered ruins of Csilla like insects from their nest. The Alliance fleet was pulling back, and they needed as many fighters as possible. That meant anybody who could crew a starfighter had to launch. And apparently, that meant cadets.

The group passed through the blast doors and entered the hangar, where frenzied flight and maintenance crews leaped into action to prep each flight. The Navy's well-practiced starfighter turnaround times shine through, as craft after craft rose smoothly into the air and jetted out of the hangar with a roar.

They made their way to the far side of the hangar, dodging maintenance crew and Alliance boarding parties as they did so. About halfway along, Elena was suddenly pulled to the ground, just as a damaged starfighter careened past the spot she was standing. It wobbled slightly and dropped, its landing gear buckling as it slid across the hangar floor with a metallic shriek. The cockpit popped open, spewing forth a pillar of smoke. Elena watched, transfixed, as people descended on the crash to assist before her attention was yanked away by the Sergeant pulling her to her feet.

Finally, they made it to the other side of the hangar, where a flight crew was prepping a squadron of AR01 R-wings.

"CADET LOWE, YOU ARE ON TALON 1-2, GET ON THAT GUN"

Then she was climbing into the cramped seat in the back of the fighter, the control column for the gun sitting between her knees. She switched on her radio and the deafening roar of the engines became a distant thrum she felt in her chest.

"Ready back here." she said, securing the harness around her chest.

“Great, let’s get this going then.” came the reply from the pilot. The craft rose up and Elena flinched slightly as her stomach dropped and the fighter raced out the hangar. The black expanse of space stretched out before her, blank and expressionless behind the bulk of the ship she was leaving behind. A few moments later, her HUD kicked into gear and painted the various targets and ships in her field of view.

<: “Talon 1-2 moving towards rendezvous coordinates.” :> The voice over the radio was that of her pilot checking in. Elena moved her gun slowly from side to side, testing the controls. For her, the battle had begun.

Spoiler

Summary:

• Elena is called to serve as a gunner for Talon Squadron and takes off in an Alliance R-wing.
• REC/AR01 R-wing Heavy Space Superiority Starfighter

 

[Zaka]

BLACKFANG - THE (NEW) JEDI vol. II
Issue #3 - Liberty's Gate
TAGS - OPEN
X-Wing

[infocard]
FRIENDLIES:

• Revenant Squadron
  • Tren Chaar
  • Kaul "Joker" Emos
  • Leon Gallo
  • Mylo Thorne
• Saber Squadron
  • Okkeus Dainlei
  • N'Jazaka Blackfang

FOES:

• Brotherhood of the Maw
  • Marlon Sularen
  • Tu'teggacha

Spoiler: tl;dr

The X-Wing knifed downwards, spiraling through wreckage of a destroyed vessel. In his peripheries, he could see artificial atmo bein vented. Flames quickly expunged by the vacuum of space before derelict hunks of metal began spinning off from each other, and adding to the violent chaos in the system.

The brightest stars so far away still glittered, and the only thing that rivaled them was the glimmer of excitement in his own eyes. Tugging back on the steering yolk and pulling out of his dive, the TIE he was chasing tried to cut through a too tight hole in some unidentifiable ships hull. Zaka went over it, spiraling down afterwards in chase, squeezing a flurry of quad-firing bursts on the TIE's tail.

His console beeped, but he ignored it. Some part of him wondered how he was supposed to take into account so many screens and sounds at once, while also shooting down enemy fighters. The TIE pilot was good, could've even turned it around if someone else was on his tail, Zaka thought. He heard another beep, but he had been expecting it. He needn't even look at the targeting computer to know that he had this guy dead to rights. Finger sliding over the firing stud, El-Bee warbled and his danger sense spiked.

Sucking his teeth, he pressed down on the firing trigger, but his hand on the steering yolk was working faster.

Idiot.

Flashing light splashed across his shields, though the readout for his shields didn't drop too much. Glancing strikes. The rest of them whipped past, and just above him in his cockpit, he could see another TIE diving straight for him. His teeth ground as he lost track of the original TIE that had been on the cusp of being painted on his fuselage.

The acceleration throttle was shoved forwards, the steering yolk was pulled back. The X-Wing was designed for speed and evasive maneuvers. The ship may have been new to him, but his skill with flying the ancient Incom designed fighters was like riding a speeder bike. Awkward at first, but once you had your balance, it was nothing new.

Mid-loop, instead of using the fighter's instruments, he used the Force, and his eyes. Blaster fire shot past the both of them, but those shots weren't destined for either of them. With how close they were to the larger ships, dancing in between turbolaser fire was an expected occurrence. He ignored the potentially lethal bolts of supercharged energy, a smile eking out on his face.

Shouldn't have helped 'im.

His finger was crushing the firing stud into the yolk a split second before the intonation told him he had a hostile fighter in his ship's reticle. The first burst burnt through the joining metal that connected the cockpit to the wing. Still accelerating, the TIE was already turning into an uncontrollable spin. For a split second, Zaka wondered if he should spare them, let them eject. But instinct and the bodily craving of survival overruled the moralistic question. The next blast punched through the fighter's ion drive connectors and sealed the pilots fate.

Veering off, Zaka didn't wait to see the resulting explosion, gently bobbing his head as he made the mental note of adding another painted TIE if he made it out of this.

On to the next one.

In his sight, the gap so graciously created in the Mawite formations by - unbeknownst to him - Revenant Squadron.

 

[Rebirth]

Location: Adrathorpe System
Allies: Electra-12
Foes: Tren Chaar | Elena Lowe | Zaka

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Telemachus of Daedalon and Sacrior Squadron close in on Zaka and Saber Squadron
  • They attack with the beam cannons and blaster cannons of their Divine Eagle starfighters

​

"Maintain tight formation," ordered Telemachus of Daedalon, Knyght of the Maw. "We will hunt down these Alliance 'aces' one by one, and then we will turn on their capital ships." All around him, the other Knyghts of Sacrior Squadron acknowledged his command. They heeded his orders without question, and not just because of his rank as squadron leader. They respected his accomplishments, a far more secure kind of loyalty. Telemachus was a veteran raider, and had beeen one of the leading commanders in the defense of Lao-mon, when the Brotherhood had thrown the Silver Jedi back from Mawite space. He had proven himself in blood and fire.

Now he was once again defending the holy domain of the Maw, and once again he had sworn he would not fail.

Telemachus was conscious that he and his squadron represented a proud tradition within the Brotherhood, but one that had grown smaller and less honored over time. In the past, the Knyghts (with the elite of House Daedalon most prominent among them) had been the Brotherhood's most dangerous soldiers, the tip of their spear in their campaign to conquer the Unknown Regions. But times had changed. The rise of the New Sith Order had replaced them as the Maw's greatest Force-using soldiers, and the creation of the Final Dawn and its powerful navy (including countless strand cast clone pilots) had relegated them to a lesser role in fleet engagements as well.

Today, above the worthless little mudball known as Adrathorpe, Telemachus intended to remind both allies and foes that the Knyghts were still a force to be reckoned with. Though the Csillan Emergence presented a terrible danger to both fleets, drifting debris and navigational hazards causing disruption (and even destruction) to many capital ships and their escorts, the whirling storm of asteroids represented ideal conditions for the pilots of Sacrior Squadron. The infamous Divine Eagles they piloted were slow and bulky by starfighter standards, but they had traded their speed for weapons and armor of imposing power and strength. They could brute force their way through the debris.

While other squadrons were forced to dance, dodge, and weave, the Knyghts would casually mow them down.

Aiding them in this regard was the fact that every Knyght was both cybernetically-linked to his fighter, allowing inhumanly fast reaction times when targeting and maneuvering, and sensitive to the Living Force. If his fighter's sophisticated sensors and targeting arrays left any gaps in his defensive and offensive capabilities, Telemachus could fill them by calling on his well-honed sorcery, sensing incoming attacks - and opportunities for a kill - an instant before they happened. It was a combination of advantages that had seen him through countless battles, and he was confident that it would do so again. He served the Dark Three and their holy mission; he would not, could not, fail.

The most recent Alliance squadron to cross his path was cut down in a hail of beam cannon fire, X-Wings bursting like Life Day fireworks, and Telemachus turned to seek fresh targets. The Final Dawn's Nacheria Squadron appeared to be engaging the Alliance's Revenant Squadron... and as much as the Knyght wanted another shot at Chaar, the squadron leader who had escaped him above Lao-mon, he had no particular desire to help the Final Dawn. Let them fend for themselves, if they were the new rising power amongst the Maw's ramshackle coalition. He soon sensed a much better target, one that - like him - could touch the Force to aid in his piloting. That was a worthy threat.

"Kill those Force Adepts," Telemachus commanded, closing in on Saber Squadron with beam cannons blazing.

​

​

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