Invasion Look What You Made Me Do (TSE Invasion of NIO Held Borosk & Troska)

[DK-03]

Objective: Defend Cassel Point.
Allies: NIO
Enemies: TSE | Lord Venari

DK-03 was absolutely confounded by the explosion of tendrils from the ground, even now. He didn't have some enticing backstory to elaborate on or think about as he ventured forward to tackle these obstacles, only the objective in front of his red glowing eyes. He wasn't much of a thinker - DK-03 wasn't the brightest of minds in the Galaxy, the Darktrooper was a simple man. He continued to whack away at the ground as the tendrils began to reach up and course their way into the beast. Although the Darktrooper program had provided him the capabilities of withstanding such a Bogan attack, the energy began to tear away and scorch at his armor. Sustainable damage that couldn't be taken indefinitely - but the Darktrooper didn't pay it any mind.

He was trained as though a juggernaut, a single minded entity who accomplished his mission no matter the cost, almost programmed like a droid. Except, in this case, the objective was achieving one of many burritos at the end of this battle.

God he loved burritos.

Except when they spille- oh, the Lord Venari creature was moving in for the attack.

DK-03 scanned the man. Processed his weaknesses. Time slowed down. Analyzing, the Darktrooper sustained 900,000 different weaknesses within a few seconds, and discarded every single one of them, because he absolutely did not care about this man. He was not a burrito. He probably did not taste good, too stringy. And as the man neared for the attack, he had a stringent smell of tomato about him - DK hated tomatoes. Absolutely hated them. There was some acidity about them, that reviled the Darktrooper in such a way that one might consider them his greatest weakness.

A burning hot sensation tore through his upper left arm. The Sith had landed a massive blow while DK-03 was completely melded into his own thoughts.

He looked down at his burning shoulder, standing amidst the field of tendrils, then back at Lord Venari.

"Ok."

He hammer-tossed his mini-gun at the man's face.​

 

[Ra Vizsla]

COMMANDER VIZSLA

| Image by @Khonsu |​

// IRON_FURNACE // IN SUPPORT OF // NIO DROP
// GARRISON COHESION //: Mandalorian
// OBJECTIVE //: HIMS BANEFUL
ALLIES | NIO | SONS OF MANDALORE | Careena Fett
ENEMIES | TSE | Darth Prazutis

A Sith Trooper's helmet buckled under the iron grip of the Imperial Mandalorian, Ra Vizsla. The trooper's visor flickered it's last light as the Mandalorian let his body drop to the ground.

The 403 Battalion grouped around their Mand'oade leader.

The Sith resistance thus far had been... admirable. They died with honor, but there had been so significant presence to count in these halls. Ra nodded to the Battalion's leader and whirled his finger in the air, silently signalling the company to group behind him once more as they marched down the hall. The sheer intimidation of the armor of Ra was all the shock they needed to win most of these ambushes as the troupe purged further into the ship, carving a blanket of fire and destruction on their towards the heart of the ship.

The majority of the Imperial forces were forcing their way towards the vital systems of the ship - Ra was on a different path.

"Commander!"

"Hold your fire," Ra held up a fist.

"She's one of us." Careena Fett . They had just encountered another company of Imperial Order forces as they turned the p-way, walking along the deck further towards their goal.

Ra nodded to Carenna as they passed each other, the former Mand'alor sweeping across the deck looking at ease. Mandalorians were some of the greatest shock troops the Empire had to offer - two of them meeting in battle like this would be a rare sight to behold for the ordinary Stormtrooper. The 403rd Batallion was no stranger to Ra running into other Mandalorians, however - he had spent a great deal of his time recruiting others. Like a pack of wolves, they would wash over the poor defenses of this ship.

"We are heading towards the Combat Information Central compartment, sister."

Ra's green visor flared.

"For the Empire."

He continued down the hall with his batallion.​

 

[Atlas Kane]

​

Allies:

->

~~Quiznossubsupreme ~~

​

-> The New Imperial Order, I guess​

Enemies:

-> The Sith Empire​

Actors: Ellie Mors | Avernus

Act I: Opus or an ember to consume the galaxy​

Atlas stepped beyond the shuttle's portal into the hail of plasma bolts that erupted in the hangar. New Imperial troopers had taken defensive positions where they could, already deeply immersed in the routines of their training. Further forward, the Lord of Passion had already begun cutting a swath through the ranks of Sith Imperials blocking their path towards the serpent Sith opposite them in the hangar. Just as Avernus, his equal, he supposed, though they were not such, callously waded through the battlefield, so did Kane, yet he enjoyed the luxury of being spared the need to wade through rank and file as he trailed the other's path.​

What, to the soldiers, was a momentous struggle for survival struck him as profoundly inconsequential. So detached had he become from the plight of mortal coil that he didn't even wake his sabre to protect him amidst the whizzing anarchy of deadly plasma. The stray bolts that threatened, he deigned to swat away with listless motions.​

Ahead, the golden blade of Avernus' sabre came to an abrupt halt. Something troubled the man's mind, but the source of that concern eluded Atlas as he wandered the battlefield with his gaze, until the familiar omen of danger dragged itself into the light of his perception. It was little more than a worming flush of sensation near the base of his spine. It glowed its warning like a candle in the dark, but no heed was paid to its message, and he neglected to make a move. It would only be another fate that need be broken. He sighed inward, waiting for the first signs of threat.​

And soon enough they came to pass, a green barrier split the hangar in two and just thereafter turned physical separation into a death sentence for the New Imperial forces. The shields that trapped the atmosphere inside the hangar dissipated behind them. Suddenly exposed to the vast emptiness of space, they learned of the insatiable hunger it harboured without a moment's pause. The atmosphere began to vent. No longer an unseen presence which preserved, it was remade into a cold grasp which wrapped itself around Atlas and the troops around him, devoid of mercy and with strength enough to bend durasteel. ​

He rocked back but made his stand in defiance based on instinct. Panic filled the minds of soliders, yet he could only sigh away fatigue in the face of another obstacle. More drudgery to chip away at his resolve to bring about his vision. He anchored himself in place by calling upon the Force, but this once, he considered the promise the void whispered, too worn to dismiss it outright.​

It named freedom of a mortal coil as its reward. A release from the bonds that tied to the absurd realm that saw the Force as its regent. Part of him longed to be swept up in that destiny it forged, genuinely. Existence for the sake of itself, had its appeal when measured against the eternal struggle to break free of the fates the Force envisioned.​

Apathy settled in his limbs, and the invisible anchor that kept him standing began to wane. The raking of metal against metal sounded beneath his feet as all tension began to subside. He wondered what the Lord of Passion was thinking now; he couldn't find the man. Was he lamenting this doom, or was he too merely fatigued by this adversity? ​

His eyes drifted lazily across what remained inside the hangar to search for the Lord, but only found the sight of struggling soldiers. He settled his gaze on one trooper just ahead. The poor soul clawed and clawed at a terminal serendipitously bolted to the floor, holding on for dear life.​

The sight confused him and sparked curiosity all the same. He summoned a shard of willpower and forced his limbs to move. Each step came only with great effort, but at that moment, he didn't care what power he needed to draw on to drive this vessel forward, the trooper's struggle was too entrancing. It stirred something deep in his soul. A sensation he thought forgotten. As he braved the void's persistence, that something enveloped his heart, and for the first time in years, he became aware of its beating rhythm. He was Sith.​

Where the man had survived by sheer luck, stood in the precise spot that ensured his survival by coincidence, Atlas had defied destruction by his own choice. He had carved out the freedom of that choice by sheer will alone. Decades of delving tombs and tomes alike left his body broken and spirit shattered, but his will remained. It was too easy to abandon all ambition in the winds of languor, too easy to fall into fate's clutches.​

His gaze shifted to the door behind which the serpent Sith had fled. It lingered there for a moment, and around him, the pull of the atmosphere began to die out. The fluttering of his cloak calmed, and it settled on the ground, along with the trooper. Without looking at the man, Atlas' foot came down in a brutal motion and crushed away his armour, along with the life he'd clung to. He was Sith, the weak were not. A creeping cold swallowed the hangar, but the Force burned within Atlas, staying death's hand as he forced his body to follow in the serpent's path.​

The blast doors had been unlocked, sparing him the need to break them. Warmth blew against him as they opened and then coalesced around him as he stepped into the beast's lair. The crystals of ice that had formed over his armour, which now bent and pushing into his body in wholly painful ways, quietly crackled as they were broken by his movements. Before him, she stood, the serpent, basked in the yellow light of Avernus' sabre on the side opposite her. He'd made it, then. A regrettable, but expected outcome.​

He cast off the cold for the burden it was with a sharp exhale of breath. One hand fell to the sabre at his side and detached it. With a finger that almost appeared crooked, he released the crimson blade from its metal prison. Its hiss cut through the air as he levelled the sabre at his foe, a darker mirror of Avernus' own challenge, but lacking the patience for any enjoyment the Lord of Passion got from his games. Atlas' gesture was born of reflex, decades spent perfecting a craft now mostly lost. At the conclusion of the flourish, he brought the blade low again and surged forward with purpose.​

A black cloak billowed around him as he moved, with speed, towards the Sith. The sabre came low, its path a sweeping arc aimed to cut the serpent in two. He didn't seek to probe her defences, it was reckless hatred and anger that drove his movements and charged them with all the strength he could still muster. Aggression to tire any defence quickly and then power to overwhelm it. The style didn't come naturally to him, he much preferred a slow, enervating death for his foes, but this once he'd give in to that craving to destroy without delay.​

​

 

[Constantine Oliva]

objective: Provide air support to NIO defenders
allies: NIO Jalter Volff
Enemies: TSE Moon Seo-Yun

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Understood, We're moving into position now. "

Hawk moved to come through the path of the bombers, angled almost head on for the incoming fighter/bomber groups. A cloud was between them and the bombers still. It wasn't going to be a major problem to those paying attention to working scanners, but for the pilots relying on their own eyes, it would be a hell of a surprise. As the ship sped forwards, Constantine addressed the gunners.

"Remember, try to not hit the bombers. They're friendlies. Interceptors only."

The guns of Hawk moved to make the last few adjustments for an optimal opening burst, tracking tiny targets barely in scanner range, let alone firing range. The dogfight continued moving closer and closer to Hawk while the Alliance ship sped on towards it. The cloud surrounded Hawk, completely blocking Constantine's view out of the bridge. When Hawk came out of the cloud, the dog fight was nearly upon them. All small guns of the ship opened fire, with the larger turbolasers and ion cannons only firing at interceptors well away from bombers, missing widely.

Constantine contacted Brawler-1 again, "Get your pilots out of here, we'll deal with the Sith forces"

 

[Knight]

Location: HIMS Baneful
Objective: Hold the Hangar
Allies: New Imperial Order
Enemies: The Sith Empire
Equipment: Kezia-Class Walker, Lander

---

"Aurek, control that corridor!" barked the NIO Trooper officer to a squad leader who promptly rallied his squad to move towards the hangar access airlock to hopefully gain the advantage on engaging any reinforcements to their side of the hangar "Besh, forward!" the same officer commanded and pressed their advantage with a squad following behind, concentrating their blaster fire on the defenders.

Meanwhile Knight was engaging multiple entrenched targets with his walker's weaponry. Blaster bolts impacted and caused ripples through the deflector shielding "Contacts, right. Engaging." Knight reported to the NIO Officer who had, with Besh Squad, pushed with Knight. The skirmish was well in the hands of the two squads until an alarm sounded "Brace! Brace! Brace!" the officer called out as the hangar was spaced. A strong rush of wind knocked the troopers over and some of the lighter ones careened into large storage containers. The lander shuddered while Knight's walker leaned into the rush of gases leaving the hangar bay. He and the lander were able to weather the storm while the exposed troopers found themselves struggling to regroup.

"Aurek, Besh, report." the Officer said over short range communications "Aurek-" there was a coughing noise "Aurek clear." there was no response from Besh. Knight turned the torso of the walker side to side to get eyes on what had happened to the squad that was just near him. Several troopers were flat on their backs, motionless, including the pauldron wearing NCO "Knight reporting Besh combat ineffective, Lieutenant." the pick up from the officer was professional "We will not surrender this hangar, gear check, report compromised armor." they all knew their suits would protect them for sometime in a vacuum but it was not dedicated EVA gear.

Several troopers helped their unconscious compatriots to the lander which could pressurize itself. The ramp closed when the wounded were transported "Command." the officer pulled out a holocommunicator "Port side hangar captured, mission complete. Sith forces have vacced the area. Requesting additional tasking."

 

[Orion Darkstar]

Allies: TSE Forces - Lark | AMCO | Ellie Mors | Ingrid L'lerim | Kiber Dorn |
Allied Pets: x3 Warghest
Enemies: NIO Forces - Careena Fett | Avernus | LT-137 | Ra Vizsla | Knight
Intent to write with: Lyra Voi'kryt

DRIP...

Drip..

drip.

Droplets of blood fell from the gaping jaws like an open wound. The Warghests and Maelridae were soaked in a scarlet liquid of discontent. The very thing they craved seemed to leave them with thoughts of intangible possibility. However they felt, hunger demanded them to heed its call. Like an itch they couldn't scratch, the Maelridae were the first to rush forward into the fray once more. Three wicked black streaks of motion phased into view as Orion watched, the anticipation filling him with comfort. As soon as that false blanket of reassurance hit him, a sudden disruption through the force alerted him. Energy from the Darkside reverberated through him, the warning sending spirals of regret in the pit of his stomach. The signs were clear when the blast doors abruptly closed on both ends of the hangar.

How could he have been so blind to something so clear?

In a burst of confusion, another sound was lifted into his world. A tune unlike anything that would have emerged from war before. The melody seeped in from all corners of the room, the voice almost that of a hiss.

"Ten little birds with ten strong beaks, ten little birds, oh how they all flock to where they need to be Come little birdies, won't you fight? Fly, little birds, fly or be lost."

Orion's sword fell to his side, the threat of blasters turning their attention to another set of Imperial troopers. His viridian eyes locked onto the poet that marched to their own drum. Orion was met with serpentine slits of amber glancing back. The circling pinpricks of dark power infested the entirety of the hangar as Ellie Mors emerged with little remorse for those left to their own devices. With ease, a wall of blueish energy stretched across the hangar bay. It seemed the title of Triumvir of Power was properly granted.

Orion was left with annoyance as he watched his three Maelridae tear through the front-line of forces on the other side. More unfortunately, they were stuck on the wrong side of the protective shield. They would be fodder to a greater plan. One that Orion would be forced to obey. Everything he worked on to create them would be stripped away. The bonds built with them torn asunder by what would soon come next.

Orion was quick to shift his attention to the blast door leading to the bridge. The only issue was what stood between him. It was impressive to watch the imposing forces ignore the clear warnings. They would truly die for some worthless cause. The thoughts from before began to fester, the internal gears of his mind looking for an answer to understand. In some ways he did find empathy for those clutching to nonsensical faith or prophets. It reminded him of P Placeholder 0128 , the Jedi that worshiped the two moons of Tython. That one man, broke down the foundations of which any religious standpoint could be found upon. How could the New Imperial Order be so different? They weren't. They too falsified what it meant to be Sith, vile filth that took pride in their wayward teachings. Soon they would be forgotten.

The heavy-set gunners drew closer as they found themselves on the right side of the force field created by Darth Alekto. Orion understood why she had to come barging through, all for the protection that was never asked for, for the greater purpose of tossing these insubordinate intruders out to the dead ends of space. Like a foreboding gesture from the god of death’s door an alarming siren drew breath. The high pitch sounds tore through the hangar bay without care. With it, the heavy troopers lifted their righteous guns and let loose the hounds of hell. A flurry of blue and red blaster bolts filled the gap between them. The haze of firepower put Orion on his heels as the ruby blade sung a song of defense in quick succession. This time there were too many, some wove themselves between his careful swipes tearing through to his shoulder. The armor ate two shots, but a third drilled through. A searing burn manifested beneath his armor before the compact gel softened the blow. The wound would leave a deep scar, but the pain would fuel his intentions.

More bolts were flung at him and in the time he had paced the strikes to deflect, they ricocheted toward the protective wall to the side. The Warghests snapped their jaws as they began to growl, patiently they waited for the order. An order that would never come, Orion wouldn't risk losing them all to the endless vacuum of space. Still, he needed to find a way past the bulky troopers willing to return fire. He cursed them, if only they had been like the others. Cowards dressed to maim. These soldiers were of a different breed as they let out a warcry that could be heard over the hellish landscape the hangar had become. The only thing Orion could do to survive was deflect bolt after bolt, the deflection causing damage to the shield of energy. Orion took a breath, his mind freeing itself from the commotions of war. There had to be a way out.

The blindingly fast strokes of his crimson beam of destruction violently sent another bolt into the force field. Only this time crackles of energy erupted from his side. The unstable concentration of its user waning as Orion glanced at the exit. The sith Lark had found Orion's effort to be the perfect distraction for his safe extraction as the doors slammed shut. The last churning gear of resolve clicked and the protective wall began to break. The energy splintered deep inside its own conjuration, spitting streams of force outward like a viper guarding its nest. The image of a broken web of glass began to form, the silk layered display reminding him of an Assassin Spider's force given talent. It was going to snap, his helmet spiked with levels of non-breathable limits. A swallowing pit of uncertainty hit him. Orion's concentration still focused on the bolts rapidly thundering toward him. His emerald jewels for eyes glanced down to the three Warghests beside him. With his mind connected to them, he gave the signal.

The beasts sped forward, avoiding the wicked efforts of the NIO forces. Their goal wasn't to kill, but survive. They dashed in unison, their metal claws tearing through the durasteel floor with a colossal strength and speed that caught many off guard. In the last moment before the force field shattered, Orion watched the Warghest's slip through the bridge door.

The rush of an immense pressure drowned out the thrums of battle. Every living and inanimate object was ripped from the ground. Heaps of metal crates flying by as Orion locked his boots into place. He tried to hold, but to no avail. The vacuum of space refused to allow any survivors. His body grew light, lifting to the top half of the hangar before digging his saber into the side of the steel wall. The cutting marks slipped through like a hot knife through butter. Even so, the saber shorted, the pull of immense pressure forcing his finger to slide, deactivating the saber in its entirety. Orion's body bent as he was flung backwards into another steel structure, catching him from the cruel fate that waited for him out in the blackened void. A sudden disruption came over his electrical HUD, a distorted display staring back at him as he tried to breathe. The steel horizontal pillar of safety bent, his body pressing against it without care. His hands tightened around the hilt, making sure the one thing that kept him alive this long remained.

Another unsuspecting jerk felled his upper body backwards, almost bending his body in a perfect 'U' shape. The cloth from his cloak contorted itself around the inner lines of steel from the pillar. Shards of metal snapped following, Orion's body was free as he was pulled backwards, his feet stopping at the head of his soon to be ultimate demise. This was it, the free space between him and the wide open space door of the hangar left him with dread. Death had finally knocked on his door, until the tangled mess from his cloak stopped all motion. His body waving in the air like a flag of chrome limbs.

What the…

Orion pulled himself together, his head trying to push against the severe tactic his own people set in motion. The realization of his tightly knotted cloak had saved his life. A heavy breath escaped his lips, the heat from it fogging the inside of his helmet's receptors. There was clear damage. As long as the cloak stayed stuck, he'd make it out alive. Orion looked down, the true loss coming into full view. The black armored Maelridae were swept away, taking NIO troops with them. He could tell they attempted to screech for their master as they finally met the cold darkness of space beyond. Orion's teeth clenched, if it wasn't for that heretic along the other side of the wall and her men, they would be alive. He gritted his teeth now, he knew they would have to be replaced...again.

The tendrils of nothingness gripped tightly for one last minute, before the the debris and affected ships slid downward, metal meeting metal as they crashed back down onto the floorboards. Sparks danced below, the threat of space no longer stretching his body like a rag doll. Instead he dangled, helpless to onlookers beneath. He wouldn't waste his time though, the saber he clutched to ignited, slicing upward to set him free of his robes and cloak. His descent forced him at the entrance way of the bridge door. There was no room for rest, bolts of fire power came in a swathe of fury. Before Orion could even try, the doors behind him opened and he was snatched in the opposite direction as the doors closed in front of him, blocking all blaster fire in its wake. One, single Warghest, protecting its master the very cause.

The back of his armor slammed into the ground. Heavy breathing escaped him, his view nothing but the bright lights that harbored the ceiling of the Star Destroyer. Orion's sins wouldn't be consumed by the lingering embrace of death, not yet. For him, the haunting existence that comprised his being remained; hungry for another day.
​

Template Made By: Annasari ​

 

[Kascalion Giedfield]

Location: Cassel Point, Borosk | Ramparts
Objective: Take the Stronghold | Kill the New Imperial Order Forces
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO | Irveric Tavlar
NPC Forces:

• Cognus Legion - 1st Battalion - Korriban Company [121 Soldiers]
• Argent Walkers - 2nd Battalion - Typh Company [95 Soldiers] / WIP
• KS-05 "Goliath Stampede" [2 Droids - Gigasmite and Lunarhem]

Equipment:

• Battle Form [Metamorphosed into X]
• Armor [Ceremonial / Helmet Removed]
• Weapon [Lodged in Ramparts]

Theme: Rip 'Em Up

---

The hit comes hard and forceful, but is welcomed all the same. The pain from the hit is sweet anodyne for the pain of build-up, tension, and expectation. The worry that he, the Slayer, is not going to combat as the Promethean desires. The crushgaunt upper-cut to the jaw only confirms that he is going to accept the terms of the Devil's deal and allow the fight of the Atlases to commence.

Kascalion flies up and back through the air from the sheer impact of the hit, his perfect teeth rattling in their gums as reverberations shock-wave through his body. A myriad of thoughts surrounding the damage this singular punch inflicted rush through his mind in oceanic waves. Was it the desire to prove himself right? Was it a sense of unexpectedness? Was it the fact that the man is so far from the Force that his attacks hurt the Devil that much more? He cannot be certain as his body descends to the hardened walls below.

The ramparts fail to cushion his fall and leaves him painfully sliding across the structure with a litany of sparks flying off his armor. Many in his path leap to avoid the living projectile and attempt to gun him down during his moment of vulnerability as he comes to a stop. Growling at the pain from the Punished's attack and the annoyance of the soldiers' blasting at his body, the Devil rises to his feet almost immediately only to be struck over and over and over by Irveric's whistling birds that he had failed to notice. None manage to pierce his Alchemy-hardened skin, but the stinging pain of the weapons only further irritates the man.

"I will not have you fools interject!" he hisses out with a fury-laced laugh, extending his right palm to unleash a stream of shadows and murk over the four soldiers attacking him.

Unlike the man known as Rurik, these brave men and women are unable to resist the advent of Twilight. As it consumes them like weeds in a garden, their very souls - childish and virile - are now subject to something worse than death. It is a terrible fate that befalls these, in some capacity 'innocent,' soldiers and one that was forced into a secluded tomb to be forgotten forevermore. But the Devil remembers all. Their forms begin to soften within the evil that envelopes them, arms and legs bending at grotesque angles, their organs swelling and calcifying in seconds. Screeching in agony and terror at their incomprehensible suffering, the young soldiers desperately throw themselves from the walls onto the incline, bursting apart upon the rocks into chunks of black smoke that itself dissipates into the air.

The Twilight. I understand now why you forbade it, Emba.

Horrified but still satisfied with their deaths, Kascalion turns his attention back to the Punished and rapidly approaches with the stance common of the lost-art of Stava, originated and perfected by the Noghri assassins of Honoghr. It was a style designed for rapid hard strikes, joint locks, pressure points, nerve-pinches, and takedowns. A style designed to completely incapacitate and annihilate the practitioner's opponent without any shred of the Force.

With the Force, it is as deadly as any Lightsaber.

Upon reaching his quarry's position, the Devil attempts a series of hard kicks to the man's inner thighs intermittent with feigned punches, constantly switching between the orthodox and south-paw variants of the martial arts to keep Irveric confounded. If attempted by any other than the Devil himself, these kicks would have little affect on the Slayer by way of the man's unnatural endurance and sheer willpower to ignore pain. However, because Kascalion's form had been crafted from the depths of the Force by way of ancient rituals, they are strong enough to bend durasteel with moderate effort and thus, possibly, damage the legendary combatant if connected.

---

The magcannon set on the walls strikes the incline hard, scattering the Cognus soldiers like Banthas being hunted by Tusken Raiders. It was an ironic thing, Corporal Stangoar decides, that despite firing upon the ramparts in tempered rage with Autokrators and Pulse Cannons and Titan Enigmas, always sticking to cover as often as possible, they were still at the mercy of the Imperials in some capacity.

She groans in both ache and irritation at the aforementioned irony, clambering up the rocks for cover - and only briefly looking back at the crater the cannon had formed. Pieces of brothers and sisters in arms dot it like sprinkles, a sight that nearly brings up the woman's breakfast of bread and coffee. Some survived the blast, but not many. Those that did scream in torment and attempt to crawl up the incline only to be gunned down like mongrels from those on the ramparts.

"A fething magcannon. Unbelievable," Stangoar curses as a fellow survivor of the blast barely slid into cover next to her. "One thing after another with these people. Can we not receive a single...solitary moment of progress?"

"Cut that attitude, Stangoar!" Commander Darkayl shouts over the communications channel. "We are the Cognus Legion of Lord Kascalion. I will not have you bellyaching because of a single magcannon."

A lone soldier of the Argent Walkers casually kneels down behind Stangoar's rock, a feat difficult to accomplish by way of the size of his armor. Stangoar chuckles at the appearance of the man for his demeanor, and the demeanor of his comrades, is wholly unlike the Cognus. They are calm and collected and even seem jubilant at the entire situation. Only five have perished thus far in the charge, and of those five, four died from the magcannon and one for being shot by three on the ramparts at least. Was it their training? Their armor? Their brand of loyalty?

It is a poorly kept secret that the Devil somewhat prefers those who allied with him in the Baal System for his Consortium's formation. Indeed, it appears that despite their smaller numbers, they are entirely better equipped armor-wise and mentally wise than those of the Cognus who, despite training for nearly a year and a half alongside their lord, were still ineffective against the Imperials.

"You need to remain calm, Stangoar," the Argent Walker suddenly utters as if he had been reading her thoughts. "You are all doing fine but listen to me: that magcannon is going to be an issue if we do not take care of it. You have long-ranged rifles and that weapon cannot fire as rapidly as you can. Find your comrades from your company and focus fire on the weapon's location. Pick your shots and keep moving. Do not let it lock you down. I will take a handful of my company and the droids and rush the walls. There, we launch thermals and detonite charges at the emplacement. Alert your commander of this plan. Understood?"

The woman does not know how to respond to the conviction in his voice. Is she just shell shocked? A poor excuse for a soldier? Is she just blaming others instead of herself? All she can do was nod and follow his orders to the letter. The orders of an outsider. Such is the direness of this war.

 

[Jalter Volff]

Location: Borosk Atmosphere
Objective: Cassel Point - Bombing Gird Coordinates 24437
Allies: Arten Jinn Constantine Oliva Konrad Bolter
Enemies: Moon Seo-Yun
Equipment: TIE/HB Bruiser [Badly Damaged]
Forces: x6 TIE/HB Bruiser, x2 TIE/OTx Outlander

Whoever this pilot was they were good, but Jalter wanted to prove he was better. He watched as the interceptor begun a series of arial acrobatics, causing Jalter to both lose his missile lock and for the 4 concussion missiles to miss. Jalter did his best to keep up in his battered bomber, he watched and waited until an opportunity arose to strike back. As Seo-Yun flew Jalter switched over from missiles to his single working rapid fire laser cannon and prepared to line up his shot before his comlink activated.

"Brawler-1 this is Nomad Actual. Requesting a hit on Sith Powerhammer position, grid mark 24437, target should be three arty emplacements, enemy AA nearby, danger close acknowledged."

And right after that a transmission from the Hawk came through. "Get your pilots out of here, we'll deal with the Sith forces"

This was too good of on opportunity to give up and Jalter couldn't ignore orders from the Major General. First he switched over comms to Konrad Bolter and spoke "10-4 Nomad Actual, beginning bombing run on grid 24437. Keep your heads down." he said before then opening a transmission to Constantine Oliva "We're heading down for a bombing run. Thanks for the assistance." he said before banking off towards the direction of the Sith-Imperial Artillery. "All Bombers form up on me. We got a target danger close to NIO armour. Grid coordinates 24437."

The bombers flew up high up in the clouds, attempting to mask their presence to enemy AA and Sith starfighters. Jalter watched his flight computer as they approached their target. "1400m, 1350m, 1300m.." it read almost like a countdown. "Once we close 500 meters we dive and pull out before the AA can hit us. Load up six concussion bombs. Let's make these Sith lackeys regret being born" he spoke and as soon as they hit 500 meters they dove. To those below the unmistakable screech of TIE bombers barreling down at high speed could be heard and the Sith Imperial AA crew rushed to their positions but the Bombers were already upon them.

Jalter changed over one of the datapads to the bomb bay cameras, the artillery position was lined up nicely in his crosshairs. With that Jalter pulled back the leaver to his bomb bay aggressively letting out 6 concussion bombs. "Brawler 3-1 times six concussion missiles away." He spoke into his squadron comms before aggressively pulling up. He felt his bomber shake as the delayed AA gun began firing at the squadron but to no avail. Each bomber followed Jalter almost identically, and once all bombers had dropped their ordnance they flew back into the clouds, obscuring themselves from the enemy AA. Jalter spoke into his comms once more to Konrad Bolter "Ordnance has been dropped. You lads should be clear."

While the AA emplacement had been far enough away to survive the crew of the Sith Artillery did not. Fear took over them as they watched the bombs fall right towards them and after that there was nothing. The emplacements remained burnt out and crumbling husks, littered with the burning wrecks of the artillery guns and bodies of the Sith Imperial legionnaires. The precise but deadly concussion bombs had indeed found their mark, leaving the NIO armour unscathed.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Location: Cassel Point
Objective: Destroy
Enemies: NIO and Allies
Allies: TSE and Allies
Tags: Aerith Castiella

Lirka could smell the carnage, and oh how sweet it was: it drove her further into that all-consuming battle lust. She was an artist once again, and this planet would be her canvas, her paint the souls of the heretic scum she would grind to dust beneath her iron boots. But for now, this rat would have to make do; Lirka had originally intended to simply hack this upstart into ribbons, but it seems she had more kick within that meager and pitiful form than the Moff had anticipated.

Had she not been so lost in battle, Lirka may have applauded the maneuver. She stood there, for a brief moment, letting crimson blood drip into the mud. A low, mocking, and distorted chuckle added into the fray, flesh ever so slowly reknitting itself where the wound was landed. But such a thing was barely obvious, there was no time given to notice.

Lirka was an ancient being by human standards, and had suffered many a wound that would leave most people dead. This? This was merely motivation to fight even harder. And that she did, letting loose of whatever meager constraints held her broken psyche back the Sephi monster, and with that did the armored beast throw herself at the Trooper. Her blade lost much of it's grace for sheer brute strength and speed, hacking and swinging wildly, the entirety of her bulk thrown into the girl.

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: The Seventh Seal //:
//: Borosk //:
//: Jak spelar tik matt //:
//: Taeli Raaf //:

The smile faded as her name was spoken; if Spencer had been like the imp from a child’s tale, she probably would have disappeared without having the dear Taeli Raaf spindle gold. “Oh, lovely.” The wide grin spread across her face once more, knowing that Taeli Raaf wasn’t scared inspired her. Lithe fingers gripped the visor tightly and pulled it free from her face. Long platinum hair dangled in front of the youthful face of the Echani woman. She looked no older than twenty-five when truthfully, she should be nearly double that age. The visor disappeared, and amber eyes burned as they stared back at the Sith. ​

“Spencer will do, as much as I love and adore the Conquerer of Ten-Thousand Worlds, I always felt my first name was enough. Tacking on the last name only drove home someone’s inevitable death.” Ashin was the type to appear out of thin air to protect the young woman. It had happened a thousand times before, and the threat after all these years still prevented anyone from outright attacking the Echani. Spencer smiled with a childish giddy as she looked down at the floor, the artwork and the attention to detail made her smile. “You’re impressive Lady of Secrets, I can see that your reputation hold a candle to your skill.” ​

Body language strayed from the point of their game, Spencer acted as if they were two old friends enjoying a game of chess and tea. Lives hung in the balance, the lives close to Taeli, and the life of her own son. Spencer looked at the teacup and sipped it, a look of pleasure washed over her face, but the detonator brought a seriousness to the Force Master. An eyebrow raised as she looked at it and set the cup in her lap. “You think you’re clever?” Spencer tilted her head while a slender finger ran down her cheek as if she was in deep thought. “You threaten the life of my bastard son?” Her tone was uncaring as she broke her gaze from the device to Taeli’s eye. “The difference between you and I, Ms. Raaf, is that I don’t could care less for the boy. He’s a means to a legacy that I don’t wish to foster. He’s obsessed with his father and a fruitless crusade, just like his father.” ​

Her training coming from Ashin to never show what she cares about on her sleeve was handy. Deep inside the recesses of her hidden heart burned the fury of a mother. How dare this woman to threaten her child, her legacy? Who in Chaos did she think she was? Did she believe herself to be on the level of Spencer Varanin? The woman burned internally, but on the outside, scoffed at the threat. “Please proceed with your plans, the loss of the boy is no concern to me. Nor is the New Imperial Order, they’re only a means to gain what I want.” In the back of her mind, she hoped that Vaulkhar was doing what he promised to do and keep the boy safe. If something happened to him, she would have Taeli Raaf delivered in a thousand pieces to her wife, and Vaulkhar would find his head on a pike, along with whoever else failed to protect her Bastard . ​

The smile remained, and she slid one of her pawns forward, moving them two spaces. “Oh, and what device do you speak of Taeli? Something your dear sister told you about? How is she? Last I heard she was writhing in endless pain being torn apart by force demons? Pity, she had so much potential.”​

As her words spun into existence, the world around them twisted. The dark void where Taeli could see her family and loved ones faded, and screams of terror filled the scene. Corvus Raaf's voice screamed with terror as she screamed out for Taeli. Faces of thousands of demons that looked like sith spawn and rakghouls feasted on the woman's tormented soul. She begged and pleaded for it to stop as the sound of bones crunched under the weight of the mighty maws. Spencer didn't flinch as she continued to contemplate her next move and enjoy the tea. "Wonder how much longer her essence will last, wonder how long your wife would last." Spencer tapped her chin as she contemplated the situation as if she was considering breakfast. "Your wife, she's a non-force user, right? Oh, they never last very long." A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she sighed softly. ​

 

[Darth Prazutis]

The Iron Wolves

Total: Iron Wolves (Eight Commandos)

Ranged Weapons Melee Weapons Armor Grenades

• 
  
  • Judicator- Sith-Imperial Adaptive Battle Rifle (7 Commandos)
  • SE Blaster Cannon - STA Blaster Cannon (1 Commando)
  • HPX-7 - Heavy Blaster Pistol (8 Commandos)
• 
  
  • Blades - Ebony Beskad (7 Commandos)
  • SI-HB-2 - Ebony Power Mace (1 Commando)
    
• 
  
  • Iron Wolf Armor - Ebony Beskar'kandar (8 Commandos)
  • Crushgauntlets - Ebony Shuk'orok (8 Commandos)
  • Vambraces - Ebony Vambraces (8 Commandos)
    
• 
  
  • Thermal Detonator
  • E.M.P Grenade
  • Ion Grenade
  • Dioxis Grenade
  • Flash Grenade
  • Thermal Imploder
  • Sonic Imploder

Location: HIMS Baneful
Allies: The Sith Empire |
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Ra Vizsla
Objective: Slaughter
Theme: Reign of the Dark

Smoke.

It flowed from the black hole a blemish in the pristine armor of the imperial stormtrooper. The hallway was a grisly scene of blood and violence, of terror. A path of broken bodies strewn in unnatural poses and left to rot by the hulking wolves. A stormtrooper of the new imperial shook in fear as one of the hulking wolves held him aloft in one hand and buried the dark blade of his beskad down to the hilt, blood staining the plastoid, while another caved in the helm of a pleading victim with a hulking power mace. They were faithful warriors who chose a side during the great schism they were young and full of idealism. But none of them ever had a chance when they made the choice to turn down the hallway. The pack of wolves tore them apart without so much as uttering a word, it was the purest expression of indiscriminate death.​

​

In the center of it all was the Mountain.​

​

The colossus drank in the surrounding like a fine wine he drew on the final fleeting moment when the light slipped out of their eyes and the breathe of life faded away. There was the occasional young and daring soldier who thought he could bring down the behemoth with the pull of a trigger. The large hand rose up and stopped the bolts in their tracks reflecting them against the walls or back at the attackers. The Iron Wolves never skipped a beat they returned to a pack formation and moved swiftly down the hallway. The seamless coordination of one gurlanin to another was second to none. If the enemy had any idea who lurked beneath the suits of beskar they would've turned and ran in the opposite direction. One of the wolves turned towards the titan "More approach."​

​

But when the approaching forces turned the corner what approached was quite the surprise. The imposing, dark armor of the Undying shifted into view. The Iron Wolf in the flesh. "Ra." The Shadow Hand said.​

​

"Or are you?" The Sith Lord uttered choosing his words ever so carefully.​

​

​

"I see you." ​

 

[LT-137]

Location: HIMS Baleful; Breached Interior -> Engineering Deck
Primary Objective: Headhunt Sith Command Staff.
Secondary Objective: Sabotage the HIMS Baleful.
Allies: Thyrsian Sun Guard, New Imperial Order.
Enemies: The Sith Empire.
Equipment: See the Link in the Signature. Note: No Primary Weapon(s.)
Complement: One Aiglos Spearship, One Cohort of Sun Guard (~ Four Phalanxes of Five.) - Background NPC's.

​

While the Sun Guard could never numerically match their numerous foes on the fields of battle, their numbers were still enough to make it difficult to easily recall the names of those that served under his direct or indirect command. To add to that, Khonsu's hands were stained with the blood of his enemies and allies alike - which significantly pared down the list of people that the man could remember, let alone trust. He had seen many of his brothers and sisters die as he cradled their armoured forms, whilst their mortal coil was severed. The man had also slain several of his own kind in the past, slaying them in ritualized combat or assassinating them from the shadows. Their faces, on the other hand, Khonsu remembered them all. Their final moments were etched into his brain as if carved onto a stone tablet.

It was likely that this… Théodoro Pirran would suffer the same fate should the man fall in the line of battle. His name would be forgotten, as the sands of time scoured them from Khonsu's mind. But, there was a chance that the man could be immortalized within the thoughts of the Thyrsian Warlord. Should he become legend or, at the very least, worthy of note - they would sing songs of his deeds throughout the ages. That was until his deeds were eclipsed by someone else, and the Warsingers' collective memories began to fade. Then, the man would become nothing more than a name etched onto a rock, and a half-remembered face without a name. In many respects, it was a terrible fate for a warrior. But, such was the inevitable terminus that their violent lives begot.

They lived; they fought, and they died. It was the way of things, and wouldn't change until the stars themselves burned cold.

So, as Théodoro Pirran drank in Khonsu's measure - Khonsu returned the gesture in kind, before offering a subtle dip of his crested helmet. :: The honour is mine, Brother, :: the Warlord said, allowing his armour's systems to synthesize his words. While there was a part of him that wanted to remain stationary and chat, as that increased the possibility of their insertion point being swarmed by hostile forces - Khonsu knew better. If the Sith Empire wanted, they would've likely disabled the gravitic plating in their sector, making it extremely difficult to maneuver in tight spaces. Well, at least for those with mag-boots, as their heavy tread would make them slow and purposeful in a firefight. There was also the possibility that they'd open nearby airlocks and vent entire corridors, seeking to utilize the difference in pressure between the interior of the ship and the void outside to handle their unwanted visitors.

However, aside from their surroundings shifting away from the fire-wreathed corridors of their insertion point to spinal passageways bathed in pulsating crimson lights - such trickery wasn't employed. At least, not with Khonsu's ad-hoc unit. They'd likely want to take him alive, if and when they managed to identify his person. In a similar vein to what transpired with the Mandalorians during their downfall, Khonsu would be taken into Sith-Imperial custody and made an example of. All of which would seek to cow the Sun Guard, hopefully forcing them to abandon their contracts in an attempt to lure them back into working with the Sith Empire, or forcing them to disband under the threat of annihilation from within, and without. Thankfully, due to Khonsu's insight into Sith teachings and years of close-proximity observations - the man was able to ensure that they'd be hard-pressed to destroy the Sun Guard from within.

It was very cliche, but such were the teachings of the Sith. At least, how Khonsu elected to interpret them.​

They travelled deeper and deeper into the Sith-Imperial warship - the Warlord's visor filled with a screed of data detailing his fellow Sun Guard's progress. Some Phalanxes encountered resistance not long after departing from their fiery insertion point. The reports varied from one unit to the next. One that caught Khonsu's attention was an encounter between his Sun Guard and members of the warship's Crew. As one would expect, they were lightly armed and armoured - no contest or sport for their heavily armed and armoured opposition. That wasn't what caught his eye, however. It was how the Stellar Decanus detailed the account of their cull - of how the Crew threw themselves at the Sun Guard with reckless abandon. They assaulted the Thyrsian Warriors with mechanic's tools and a multitude of ranged weapons, which also included the thrown datapad or three.

This definitely wasn't the Sith Empire that he remembered. It seemed that this burgeoning Civil War had split them open to the core - revealing the bestial nature swaddled in the cloak of civility. "We're not so different, after all..." Khonsu remarked, not allowing his words to escape the encapsulating confines of his helmet. When the Warlord and company reached a forked junction within the warship bowels, Khonsu found himself momentarily hesitating. Their briefing had been swift, and one of their combined objectives was to locate the starship's schematics - allowing them to shed their blind advance into the unknown. However, every terminal they came across was locked down and inaccessible. Sadly, with portions of the Crew having withdrawn from the affected sectors - likely to save their lives and keep the ship operating at peak efficiency - there was no way to unlock the terminals. Sure, they could connect and hope that the on-board AI systems would be able to punch through the pyro-walled access ports and decrypt the information within, but that would've been a waste of time without the proper code cylinders. Khonsu dismissively rolled his eyes as that thought raced through his thoughts.

They would've been better off fighting against the tide with cupped hands and harsh language, than trying to batter down the security systems with but a part of the Sith-Imperial encryption scheme.

Once again, the Warlord turned his attention towards the artfully hidden feed of data that lingered at his visor's fringes. He scoured the reports across the secured network, hoping to find an answer. The man found nothing at first glance, as it seemed that their long-range comms systems were being jammed, and their short-range networks had difficulties breaking through the multiple levels of interference. However, as another slice of time passed them by and his feed updated, it seemed that one of his Fireteams had encountered a measure of success. While it wasn't perfect, One Phalanx was able to obtain a small fragment of the warship's spinal schematics. It was enough to allow Khonsu and some of the other Sun Guard to find their bearings, but they would need to locate a more comprehensive map down the road. They could've done only so much before their terminal's access privileges were revoked by the command stations on the bridge.

Nevertheless, Khonsu was grateful to obtain this missing piece. With a swift review of the newly transmitted schematic, the Warlord turned towards the Engineering Decks and bade his comrades follow suit.

It wouldn't be long now until their advance was intercepted.​

As if suddenly struck by a divine moment of unfortunate timing, the Warlord finally encountered the opposition he was expecting. Several Sith Imperial Troopers were tasked with hunting down these intruders and repelling them by whatever means were necessary to navigate through nearby portions of the warship. However, they were having trouble with these basalt and gilded combatants. While their armour was different, sparking a controversial moment of hesitation from one Squad Leader, the rest of the Troopers were able to identify these warriors as the Sun Guard. It was hard to tell who and what these mysterious figures were at first - simply because every security holocam was destroyed as the other units advanced throughout the Baneful.

When it came to Khonsu's advance - the man didn't care about being spotted for the subtle intricacies of tactics. Let others focus on such details. Stealth was entirely optional for this mission, and after spearing into the proverbial heart of the Baneful? Khonsu's blood was slowly starting to run hot. So, as the door parted to reveal the guns of well over a dozen Sith Imperial Troopers - the Warlord acted solely on instinct. Lesser men would have cowered from the sudden revelation of enemy troopers, but Khonsu? He threw himself into their loosened ranks, uncaring of their numerical superiority. The caged lion was finally allowed to slip the leash, and one could only imagine the carnage that followed.​

"Sun Guard, here?"
"Inform Command!"
"Blast them!"
TCHU, TCHU-TCHU.
"Mercenary scum!"
"The Sith will remember th-!"
Snap-hiss, SNIKT - SNIKT... SWISH, Thump.
"Agggh, my arm!"
"Terrik, Noooo!"
THUNK, Screee.
"Die, Monst-!"
"THERE'S NO STOPPING TH-"
Inaudible Screams of Agony and Horror.
TCHU, TCHU.
"No, not like this. NOT LIKE THIS!"
"Where're our Reinforcements?!"
SWISH - SWISH, SNIKT.
"Uuggggghhh-"

Khonsu's armour-bound chest rose and fell slowly, as the ebb and flow of combat faded into memory. The blood that once coated his hooked-glaives flaked off and evaporated beneath the thrumming plasmatic field that swam across the twinned blades. There were spatters of arterial spray that painted his muscular form, despoiling what pieces of adaptive camouflage were exposed to the crimson vitae. The photoreactive plates rippled as their colours shifted in an attempt to better blend the warrior's form with his surroundings. However, after several moments had passed - the system gave out and left the Warlord's frame seemingly hewn from lusterless obsidian. The dragon scale kama that was lashed about his waist was spattered with cascading droplets of crimson vitae, and the odd handprint here and there that was left by the proverbial carpet dying and deceased Troopers beneath his feet.

Oddly enough, the only item that wasn't scathed by the brief moment of unbridled fury was the frock of artfully contained and dyed horse-hair that formed a corinthian-styled crest atop his plated crown. The twinned crimson and basalt hues waved lifelessly in the gentle, recycled breeze. Had this chamber not been embraced by violence mere moments ago - this moment of elation would've been strangely peaceful.

Blinking aside the last vestiges of adrenaline that brought a crystalline clarity to his false-firelight bathed vision, Khonsu turned his gaze towards his comrades. There were several Sith Imperial Troopers that didn't meet their ends at his hands, but as he surveyed the carnage - they were dispatched with relative ease. Their training gave them an edge and allowed them to survive longer than most. But, when it came down to it - they were no match for the unbound ferocity of a Thyrsian Warlord schooled in the martial arts of Thyrsus. Their opponents would make every movement observed to the most minute of details, from the subtle twitches of select muscle groups to one's posture, or by the way they wielded a weapon.

Sure, the Echani were considered to be some of the best martial artists in the galaxy - but they fought unarmed and unarmoured, to a certain degree. When it came to adorning oneself in heavy armour and wielding a collection of blades, however, the Thyrsians were unrivalled. They were matched only by the skills of those who wielded the Force, either as a weapon or their ally. As well as the now-disgraced Scions of Mandalore.

:: Théo, :: Khonsu began, as the haze of battle slowly lifted from his mind. :: I want you to take point after we exit this chamber. There's an access stairway just outside that'll lead us down toward the engineering decks below. My bloodlust is starting to get better of me, and I need a moment to align my humours. ::

:: Go - I'll be right behind you. ::​

​

| Théodoro | Lucien Dooku |
| Ingrid L'lerim | AMCO | Kiber Dorn |​

 

[Amur]

Post: 2
Location: Cassel Point
Faction Objective: Obj 1: Eliminate NIO Force holding the facility
Allies: Kalanda Tishire any TSE forces nearby
Enemies: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Vaeri NIO Forces nearby
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Currently: Infiltrating the compound

Halfway there and half blind, good one. Atleast Kala could put on a good face despite this hell. Always trying to put Murmur at ease, that witch. Amur didn’t believe that people as sweet as Kalanda truly existed and in that regard she was a true gem. It’s what made her silently hate the fact that now she was dragging her feet first into hell. Amur was atleast numbed to the sensations of mass death in the force. Mygeeto and the fierce fighting guaranteed that happened, but Kalanda was now being forced to deal with the crying agony of million souls being snuffed out first hand with no build up.

Still as Kala said they were in this together and she would follow her no matter what. If only she didn’t stay so silent after Mygeeto, if only she kept her hand. Maybe, just maybe there would have been a better way to soothe and convince her to stay but that bridge was burned like her arm was gone. Once Kala had seen that Amur knew there would be no stopping her from trying to intervene, to try and protect Amur even if it meant losing herself in the process.

Still regardless of her brooding thoughts the smile on Kalanda’s face always seemed to brighten her day even as the day tried to break everyone down. It was the small things you had take comfort in as it was oftentimes the only things you were allotted. It was a paradoxical knot that Amur felt she was tied in, unsure if she wanted her close or far. When Kala then out of nowhere dared to start flirting it caused the Sith’s mind to freeze and her cheeks to grow rosy red and hot underneath her helmet. The sudden jolt just caused the Sith to join Kalanda briefly in the cackling before noticing the green mist envelop them.

”I swear you pick the worst timing on pur-” Amur started to say fighting back the laughter that was still residing in her throat before being cut off by the sudden sensation of the teleportation. Her stomach felt like it had tumbled and flopped about 50 times in the span of a second all the while her head felt like it was mimicking the rolling motion of her stomach. Suddenly they were inside the base, the Sith landing and falling to her knee quickly as her mind reoriented itself to the surroundings of the hallway.

”I’ll never get used to that.” She complained briefly before standing back up quickly scanning the area for any soldiers or personnel and exhaling softly to see that their insertion was thankfully quiet. That sadly though was the easy part. Now to navigate the behemoth of compound. Many details about the inner workings and the layout of the compound were sadly unknown, requiring the pair to have to rely on their own intuition to navigate the area. Still there was an uneasy feeling in the air and a chill. If her helmet was off right now Amur would have expected to see condensation dissipate from her breath.

She began to move, motion for Kalanda to follow. Her lone hand now hovering around her waist. In her experience carrying a weapon was limiting. It was better to keep everything on her belt and so she could choose what fit the situation best. The pathways snaked and turned providing many crevices, ideal ambush points or places to set up lines of fire. Amur quickly found herself using the sprawling mass of death that could be felt in the force, the emotions and sensations to act as a compass of sorts allowing her to try to estimate the direction to the core. A few times the maze-like array in the hallways proved to be quite handy too as patrols and reinforcements, minds weighing heavy on the dire frontline situations would wander near them only for a simple change of direction, ducking behind cover or Kala’s teleportation proved to just enough to narrowly evade detection.

It would have been simple to just ignite the saber and cut down everyone in sight but that would have just compromised them too fast. No, wait to get somewhere vulnerable and unexpected then begin the cutting. Still all throughout the chill still latched upon and oddly something else became clear. Getting nearer and nearer to it the Sith grew more alert as her hand was hovering over her lightsaber ready to spring to the defense in a moment's notice. Soon though it was clear that if she wanted to breach into the central stronghold quickly she would need to have to force her way through whatever was causing this disturbance in the force.

”We’re about to face what’s been lurking in this soup. Just be careful.” Amur called out to Kala as she could feel a tinge of fear, not for herself and the danger that awaited her but for the witch that was dead set on protecting her. A small bit of mental reassurance and prayer steeled the Sith as she stepped into the hall.

Two figures, darkness radiating from them like a well of gravity at least 20 feet away from Kala and Amur and behind them was what seemed to be the Jedi as they seemed to be locked in a classic confrontation. Whether they be on the cusp of killing each other or having an enlightening philosophical debate was to be determined. Still the bodies flooding Amur’s senses with the stench of rot, decay and burning flesh had her body expecting a fight. She would let their initial exchange go before intruding.

“I beg your pardon but are we interrupting something dear?”

 

[Lirranne Isaris]

Prefsbelt Sector - New Imperial Held Borosk
Edge of System - On approach to star Borosk Prime
14th Mobile Task Force: ANV With Desperate Glory
Objective 3 - Breaking Lines
Allies - Dracken Pryce | Marlon Sularen
Enemies - Melia Siari | Thaelius | Moon Seo-Yun

Galactic Alliance Navy - 14th Mobile Task Force

Battle Division 148 Escort Carrier Squadron 481 Escort Group 482 Cruiser Squadrron 483 Support Group 484 Strikecraft

• 
  
  • ANV With Desperate Glory, MC81k Liberty Kai type Mon Calamari Star Cruiser
  • ANV Foerest Rising, Nebula II-class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Inanna, MC250b Eurydice type Mon Calamari Cruiser
• 
  
  • 3 x CR-37 FarStar Escort Carrier
  • 1 x Sacheen II Escort Frigate
• 
  
  • 2 x MCv110 Mon Calamari Corvette
  • 3 x Negotiator-class Light Cruiser
  • 2 x Nagata-class Heavy Corvette
• 
  
  • ANV XXX, Liberator II Light Cruiser
  • ANV YYY, Majestic II Heavy Cruiser
  • ANV ZZZ, Defender II Assault Carrier
• 
  
  • 2 x Agave Picket Ship
  • 1 x Hajen II Fleet Tender
  • 1 x Shieldship II Escort Cruiser
  • 3 x Avalon-class Corvette
• 
  
  • Defender II Starfighters
  • X-Wings
  • A-Wings
  • E-Wings
  • B-Wings
  • Y-Wings

“There, see that?” The operator indicated a series of data bursts on the sensor readout. It wasn’t purely measuring energy or light, the astronomical distances involved meant the light lag was measured in hours still, but it amounted to the same thing after all the math and droid-assisted reduction. “Large-scale energy bursts, consistent with weapons fire. Only turbolasers flare like that.”

Lirri nodded. “Well then someone out there is friendly. So much for trying to stay quiet, lets go active and light them up, figure out who’s who and how we can help. Prep the alert squadron for launch and get me comms with Commander Hask.”

No plan ever survived contact with the enemy, that was an ages old truism of warfare. The main objective still stood, they needed to shake the enemy’s control of the battlefield, and that meant engaging the interdictors, wherever they were. But the notion of leaving a friendly ship or ships to fend for themselves just didn’t work for Lirranne. She made plans as best she could on a tight timeline. They knew where Pryce’s fleet and the shipyards had been, and it was probably a safe assumption that he was doing his best to defend the planet and the defenses on it. That gave them a broad area to draw a frontline of sorts, based vague predictions and extrapolating positions from known data, with Alliance and New Imperial forces on one side and Sith on the other.

The main force now under the temporary command of Hask would continue their course around the star to what was hopefully the ‘rear’ of the Sith forces, and presumably their protected interdictors. Lirri would take the Glory and a few escorts straight to the fight ahead of them, then try and link up with the main force later. But first they needed more information. The two Agave pickets were tasked to break off from the warships, open the distance, and then go high-energy on active sensors to establish a picture of the system even through all the jamming. They’d be broadcasting their position to the enemy, but hopefully having them break off first would obscure any attempts to track the main formation.

The task in front of them, however, demanded more immediate action. By now the lead gunnery tech and the weapons officer had joined their CO on in CIC, and all three of them stood near where a handful of junior enlisted managed the primary sensor array. “Give me a set of max output pulses down where we’re seeing that turbolaser fire. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

“Aye aye ma’am.”

It took a bit to reconfigure the array, then a few more moments to actually send the pulse, which was visualized arcing down the bearing at faster than lightspeed. It hit something, bounced back, and a moment later an image resolved. “That’s one of ours, Mon Cal for sure.” Then a moment later. “Eurydice-class, we’ll know who once the transponder interrogation comes back. The rest appear to be Sith, several corvettes, one frigate leading the wolfpack. Unless the NIMPs decided to start shooting at us.” The operator shrugged.

Lirri judged that unlikely. She turned to the gunnery. They were still too far away for regular turbolaser fire, especially now that the attacking Sith ships were alerted to their approach, but the Glory had a battery of powerful, terrifyingly accurate long range cannons. The only question was if her crew was good enough to not risk hitting the friendly at this range. “Well Chief, can you do it.” The Chief grimaced, but nodded.

“Too dicey on the small boys with the way those corvettes move, Major, but I’d wager my guys can put a single battery on the frigate well enough.”

Lirri nodded. “Officer of the Deck, Launch the alert squadron, and have all hands prepare for combat.” She turned to the Chief, who had already moved on to gunnery coordination console and this time she grinned. “Chief, batteries release. You may fire when ready.”

---

The nine 220 teraton condensed beam long-range turbolasers mounted on the Liberty Kai type vessel were arranged in three batteries around the ‘nose’ of the ship. They were not strictly fixed forward, but the gimballed turrets had a much more limited firing arc than normal, a necessity because of their massive size and complex internals. The weapons had exceeded expectations during field testing, with an effective damage profile far beyond what their energy output indicated (and that was impressive enough). Battery Two-Twenty-One, mounted in a blister just above the prow of the ship, shifted slightly as it locked onto the fire control solution generated by the sensor pulse. As the turrets corrected for relative motion, acceleration, velocity, and a thousand other variables, the entire ship shifted and shuddered a bit, making up for fractions of fractions of a percentage of uncertainty.

Space in front of the With Desperate Glory lit up suddenly as the three coherent beams of energy arced out from the ship and raced across the void. The first shot struck the Sith frigate at an angle, impacting on the raised shields of the vessel and exploding with energy across the surface of the ship.The other two shots were dead on, the second likewise impacted first on the shield, then blew through them and scored across the hull, vaporizing armor in a terrifying display. The final beam struck the same twisted and warped spot, and ripped right through the vessel, a deep penetrating wound. Fire gushed from the breach, a massive internal explosion that was only the herald of further destruction. As the ship shook from secondary blasts, its lights and the glow of its thrusters flickered and then went out. It had been left a drifting hulk.

A cheer went up from the CIC of the Glory, but all knew that the fight had just begun.

 

[Kalanda Tishire]

Location: Cassel Point
Faction Objective: Obj 1: Eliminate NIO Force holding the facility
Allies: Amur Any TSE forces nearby
Enemies: Vora Kaar Darth Vinaze Vaeri Any NIO Forces nearby
Gear: Listed in Bio and Storm Armor Mk. III
Currently: Infiltrating the base

Amur was right about one thing, seeing death unfolding on this scale before her eyes was going to haunt Kalanda for a long time; but she wasn't going to think about that here and now. Instead, she focused on the pleasant sounds that Amur was making, trying not to laugh at the witches comment. Seeing that her words had the intended effect, Kalanda took a moment to enjoy her masters embarrassment. The truth was, is that yes, Kalanda always did that on purpose, and she loved it. Kalanda was a tad concerned as they entered into the base, and Amur had already dropped to her knees. Her voice was full of concern as she spoke. "I think if we practice it, you'll get the hang of it." She could understand the discomfort, she too had similar discomfort during her initial training on Dathomir. At least they were safe, and Kalanda's shortcut keep her Murmur safe from harm.

Taking a look around the base, Kalanda could feel the tension in the air, as well as despair, pride, resolve, and hints of fear. Was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of a war? What was the purpose of this attack? What exactly was the end goal? Even if you killed as many people as possible, all you achieved was destruction. Were did the necessity of the act come from? "Speaking personality, I don't much like this soup." Kalanda spoke, gripped the handle of her saber, her fingers rubbing over the fine worked wood of the hilt.

The tension she was feeling felt thick, and it was working away at her nerves. She recoiled her hand away from the weapon, remembering that accidental ignitions killed two in ever five force users; Kala wasn't about to become a lightsaber safety statistic. She felt like she was trapped in some sort of death maze, as the events playing outside of the fort where not ignored by the witch; she did everything in her power to pretend otherwise. She wanted to reach out and hold Amur, but that wasn't the place for that, it would only get them both killed. So, she pushed it down and put it out of her mind. There would time for this later. She was terrified truth be told, or maybe it was just an extreme case of nervousness, but having her master here well....it gave her something to put her mind at ease. As Amur signaled her forward, Kalanda crept forward, growing slightly annoyed at how the armor felt; she was going to need to make changes to this attire, it was just too...bulky for her liking.

She could feel the presence of others up ahead, and it seemed Amur did as well. Her hand flexed in anticipation, expecting something to just leap out at them, even though she knew that wasn't how these things worked. She could feel aggression and annoyance up ahead, as well as a tinge of exhilaration. Where these people actually happy to fight? Were they wanting to hurt each other? That didn't make any sense. Surely all these people had a reason for doing this to one another. Her gaze fell upon Amur, as she knew her master had dealt with these situations before, she would just follow Amur's example. To her surprise, Amur allowed the pair to have their words with one another, then revealed their position, roughly twenty feet away from the strangers who emanated in the force.

Seeing as how Amur was taking a pleasant tone with them, Kalanda assumed that maybe they wouldn't need to fight these two. "Hello there!" She proclaimed, peeking over Amur's shoulder to get a look at who they had stumbled upon. Then she remembered, this was a war. These were the bad people they needed to take out, but Kala didn't want to kill them, so she figured intimidation would make them surrender. She had to sound mean to make this work, so she called out to them in the most intimidating voice she could muster. "I mean, stop, um, in the name of the law!" Something about that didn't sound right, but Kalanda didn't know what you were supposed to do in a war, and to be honest she was extremely nervous. She tried to force a smile, realizing she might have screwed things up. "How am I doing?" She whispered to Amur, her hand going for the wooden hilt on her belt once again, with Kalanda's free hand lingered on her herbal pouch. If they did anything to harm Amur, she was going to make them regret it; but there was a problem.

Her skin was crawling, she could feel her hair standing on ends, and a cold clawed hand felt as if it was clawing at her gut. Was she supposed to feel like this? Was this the weakness that the Sith constantly harped on about. Her empty eyes looked to Amur, and thought about the idea of losing her. Then just like with the starweirds, she could feel the fear slipping away. Her nervious grin vanished, as Kala felt the strange calmness take over, with the chill she was feeling turning into a burning heat in her stomach. She could do this. She was going to protect Murmur, even if it killed her.

 

[Hont Atellies]

Location: Cassel Point
Objective: Capture or Die.
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO and Sympathisers
Notable Enemies Nearby (Known or Unknown): Agrippa Irveric Tavlar Konrad Bolter

He ran, ran as fast he could, dodging fire and explosions left and right. He went towards the fortification, catching up to some of the Sith soldiers, passing them and moving up. The soil, the dead, they seemed to raise as he ran. He would be told if the infiltration team had made landfall, though none contacted him. He was sick of the Sith, he was sick of the stupid pain and misery that they thrived on. He quickly moved up and contacted the second in command who was currently watching over his legion, garrisoned nearby.

“Alenus, It’s time.”

“Are you sure Prefect?”

“Move the Legion to the world on my orders that they be deployed, we are ditching the Sith and throwing our lot with the empire, we trained, we bled, we suffered, now it’s time to kick them in the ass.”

“We shall be there soon.”

Hont turned off the communicator, running up to the fortification. As the soldiers started firing he threw his hands in the air.

“I need to talk.”

 

[Eleanor Lowe]

Location: Borosk, shuttle crash site, 300m southwest of Point Cassel
Allies: TSE - @Nearby
Enemies: NIO - @Nearby | Hypatia Arresh
Objective: Keep a lowe profile

​

Eleanor let out a frustrated noise, but did he best to push down her simmering anger. She resisted the urge to hurl the commlink against the interior hull of the ship, but reluctantly decided it would be worth attempting to fiddle with the device to see if she could get back on the Sith Imperial line. She sat down heavily, bracing her legs against the hull to keep from sliding down the tilted floor of the ship, and played with the commlink's knobs and dials for a few minutes. When she was unable to produce more than a hiss of static, she dropped the device.

She was running out of things to do while she waited for the Sith to arrive to rescue her and Madelyn. She'd already patched up her wounds, and done the same for her sister. She'd gathered what equipment she could- though she supposed there were things she might have missed. Though the artillery fire was still booming down sporadically, it didn't seem to be threatening her. A feeling of unrest and annoyance at being stuck in the deadened ship was beginning to manifest, replacing the initial fear and adrenaline that had come with waking from the crash. Glumly, Eleanor hoped that the Sith would come to get them soon. She didn't like the prospect of spending a night out here alone on the battlefield.

Standing to go and search the ship again, Eleanor froze suddenly. Another sound had joined the dull noise of a battle outside, a sort of rushing, getting closer. She listened keenly, trying to separate the noise out from the sounds of explosions and gunfire from Cassel Point. Almost as soon as it had started, the rushing noise had stopped. For a moment, she had thought it was an approaching ship, come to rescue her, but she could no longer hear it. She shuffled quietly towards the door, staying quiet to try and pick up the noise again. She peered out of the window, but saw nothing in the sky above, aside from the slowly drifting forms of a fleet overhead, and the flat ground surrounding the ship's furrow in the ground seemed equally clear.

Madelyn stirred and mumbled something, which was the most activity she'd seen from the woman since waking. However, the Grand Moff remained steadfastly unconscious. Something stirred inside her gut and her skin prickled with discomfort. She stood still and listened keenly. Very faintly, she detected a new sound. Well, she thought she did. The artillery had seemingly died down, and between the pop and whizz of distant blaster shots she could have sword she heard the soft scrape of a booted footstep in the dirt outside. Listening closely and hardly daring to breathe, she heard it again- barely audible but sounding from just outside.

Panic filled her instantly, and she fought to calm herself as her skin grew hot and her muscles tensed. She force herself to be calm. Someone was outside. She knew that might happen. She just had to think of what to do. Eleanor cast a look back at Madelyn, who was no longer stirring and once again appeared quite at-peace in her unconscious state. She gazed around the deadened screens and tilted interior of the ship, wishing she was just about anywhere else at that moment.

Clutching her gun for comfort, Eleanor crept back up to the raised entrance to the ship, gazing out the rear entrance and finding them clear. She considered grabbing the hatch and pulling it shut, but she didn't want to give whoever was out there a clue she was inside. She couldn't hear anything now, but she felt sure the person must still be close by. More than likely it was simply a soldier, but she didn't like the prospect of a New Imperial trooper stumbling upon her or her sister, so she stayed still and stayed quiet, watching the entrance apprehensively.

She gripped the rifle tightly, suddenly wishing she was wearing more than a jacket for protection. The pilot, she remembered, was wearing armour, but Eleanor was revulsed the prospect of pulling the dead man from the instrument panel and stripping the corpse down. Besides, such a fuss would surely attract the attention of whoever was wandering around outside.

No, better to stay here and hope they passed her by.

 

[KV-6000]

Objective/Location: Breaking the Lines - Borosk System, Borosk Atmosphere
Fighter: Tuk’ata-class Sith-Imperial Interceptor - Harmony Sixteen
Onboard Equipment: PU-96 “Imperius” Class Flight Suit | “Judicator” Adaptive Battle Rifle
Allies: TSE
Enemies: NIO ( Jalter Volff ), GA ( Constantine Oliva )

“We have a corvette approaching from less than a klick out! Move back up into cloud cover and maintain engagement distance with the heretics! We can not let them escape!” The voice of Harmony One screamed out over the squad’s comm frequency, it wasn’t quite an order of suicide, but rather, a demand to continue a fight which had proved to be harder than initially expected. Even so, that was the only real option left for Harmony Squadron in the wake of the corvette’s arrival. With its turbolasers, ion cannons, and point defense weapon systems lighting up the skies like a lightshow, the squadron was quickly sustaining casualties. However, within the close-quarters dagger fight of the furball, viable firing solutions would be harder for the corvette’s gunners to come by given the high risk of friendly fire.

So far, that was the only thing protecting Seo-Yun from the corvette’s wrath.

Nevertheless, she did not relent in the turning battle with the heretic bomber. Initially, the bomber turned into her as well, but when the enemy pilot attempted to break off from the engagement, Seo-Yun finally saw her chance, and she didn’t hesitate to seize it.

Coming out of a leftward break turn, Seo-Yun pitched her nose up and climbed until she was at roughly the same altitude as the heretic bomber, at which point she leveled her wings, but held them in an inverted position. The maneuver brought her directly behind the disengaging bomber in a pure pursuit, with a viable guns-based firing solution which she hoped would bring an end to the dogfight for good.

Before the bandit could ascend into cloud cover, Seo-Yun squeezed the triggers on her control sticks, discharging a salvo of eight green plasma bolts from her interceptor’s chin-mounted laser cannons, which sped out at supersonic velocities towards the heretic bomber’s rear fuselage. While all of the bolts were fired at knife fight range, the distance from the enemy bomber to Seo-Yun’s interceptor was slowly increasing, given the loss of airspeed she had suffered during the turning battle. As such, Seo-Yun accelerated her craft forward as well, after firing her laser cannons and flipping her wings back into a vertical position.

 

[Jalter Volff]

Location: Borosk Ground
Objective: Cassel Point - Survive
Allies: Arten Jinn Constantine Oliva Konrad Bolter
Enemies: Moon Seo-Yun
Equipment: TIE/HB Bruiser [Destroyed]
Forces: x6 TIE/HB Bruiser, x2 TIE/OTx Outlander

"Gah!" Jalter exclaimed as Moon Seo-Yun's plasma bolts hit the TIE Bruiser, shaking the entire craft. He had been sloppy, far too focused on the bombing run and he was caught by complete surprise by Seo-Yun who had continued to pursue him. Jalter had lost control and he felt the bomber slowly lose engine power and begin falling back towards the planets surface. "Come on start you piece of junk." he said desperately, attempting to turn the engine back on but instead the engine and fuselage burst into an uncontrollable fire. The bomber had sustained heavy damage and this time it was going down. Jalter grabbed both controls once more and wrestled back control, managing to pull the bomber's nose up giving him enough control to steer the bomber as it began its descent down to the surface.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Brawler 3-1 going down." He spoke into his comms, open to all allied forces. He quickly switched over to squadron comms. "All Bombers move back to the Hawk and await further orders. I'll try a-" his comms unit exploded showering him with sparks. "Kriffing great" he said to himself as the bomber continued down. Attempting to activate his ejector seat Jalter could only sit in fear as it failed to activate. Realising he was going to have to stick with the bomber, Jalter spotted an open patch near some damaged Sith troop transports and struggled to turn the bomber over to that direction. The flying frieght train fought against his control and he could feel the pain as he felt the controls slowly breaking within the bomber. "Just a few more inches" he pleaded before the Bomber impacted the ground.

Jalter felt parts of his beloved bomber being ripped away as he hit the ground. The left wing had torn off completely taking the engine and fuselage with it, causing a fiery explosion. As the Bomber continued to slide across the ground he felt the cockpit seperate from the rest of the ship and beginning to roll. Jalter sat helplessly strapped to the seat, praying to whatever god out there to let him survive. As the rolling began to stop, he watched as the rest of the bomber slammed into the damageed SIth tank, causing the payload within it to explode leaving only a burning wreckage of twisted metal.

Jalter emerged from the damaged cockpit and immedietly he began taking fire. He pulled out his DD12 Blaster Pistol and returned fire, hobbling over to cover with his cybernetic leg. He grabbed his portable comlink and spoke into it. "This is Brawler 3-1 to anyone out there. My bomber is a burning wreckage and I'm pinned down by Sith troops!" A blaster bolt struck the side of his helmet as he spoke, fortunately not injuring him. "I'm transmitting my location now." he said before closing the comm and putting it on his belt. As he placed it there he touched what felt like a metal sheet protruding from his stomach. Looking down he saw a massive piece of shrapnel sticking out the lest side of his stomach. The pain kicked in soon after and he clutched his stomach. Once again Jalter found himself praying. "Please. Please someone help me..."

Crater watched as his Captain crash landed below. He quickly switched comms to the rest of his squdron. "Crater 3-3. If no one else is taking command I'll do it." he said before watching the interceptor that downed Jalter swoop around. "Bombshell and Outlanders with me. The rest head back to the Hawk. We're going hunting" he said into the comms. With that the 4 TIEs begun their pursuit of Moon Seo-Yun, eager to avenge their capatin. "Bombshell lock concussion missiles. Outlanders target with plasma fire." he said before targeting the interceptor with a missile lock. He slammer the fire button along with bombshell sending 3 concussion missiles each towards the interceptor. The Outlanders did what they were told as well and began firing.

While Crater chased the interceptor Boxer lead the other 4 bombers to the Hawk and Constantine Oliva "Hawk this is Boxer 3-5. Squadron lead is down and we are regrouping with you until I hear back from Crater 3-3." she said before switching back to squadron comms. Boxer suddenly broke formation, following a Sith interceptor "All pilots assist the Hawk while we regroup." she said as she locked the enemy fighter and shredded it to pieces with her laser cannons. Whatever were to happen next boxer knew he would need the entire squadron before proceeding.

 

[Constantine Oliva]

Objective: air support
Allies: NIO, Jalter Volff Dracken Pryce
Enemies: TSE Moon Seo-Yun

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Constantine watched the little blips on Hawk's scanners start dropping off, one by one. Several coincided with explosions he saw outside the bridge. There wasn't much he could do now, as it was all up to Hawk's gunners. So while the combat raged outside, the young Commodore looked into other areas of the battle. He had been unaware of the presence of High Admiral Dracken Pryce's fleet when he descended into atmosphere, though he had since realized what his superior was attempting to do. Perhaps after this engagement he should return to orbit to support the admiral...

His thoughts were interrupted by the signal from Boxer 3-5. The lead pilot of the bomber squadron he'd come to assist had been shot down, and the remaining bombers were now flocking to his ship. Constantine responded to the new information quickly, notifying his crew.

"Boxer 3-5, this is Hawk. We'll continue to provide support while you regroup."

The ship had also received Brawler 3-1's call for help. While they didn't have his exact position yet, the Hawk knew vaguely where he had crashed, and that he needed help. Constantine barked more orders to his crew.

"Get us his location and tell the marines to get ready to pull his ass out of the wreckage!"

"Yessir."

"While we're doing that, I want turbolaser fire to come down in that area."

Hawk's three dorsal-mounted turbolaser turrets turned to their new target: an area around the crashed TIE where Sith forces had begun to concentrate. Moments later, they began firing in a wide area, trying to suppress small groups and decimate formations.