Objective: Defend the Bastion, Slaughter the Interlopers
Location: The Streets
Allies:
Thomas Barran
,
Keilara Kala'myr
,
Kralmus Orr
Enemies:
Jas Katis
,
Dylan Marsek
,
Elaena Kessia Miran
Engaging: Open
By the time the mercenaries breached the building, Ronar and the Violet Wolves were long gone. Smashing through another window on the far side of the building, they bolted through the streets, heading for their next position. Ronar wished he could stay and see the results of his work, but there was simply no time. Dozens of mercenary squads were moving through the city, and if they wanted to crush the fighting spirit of the encroaching army, they would have to spread the love. That being said, now that the opening shots had been fired, it was time to kick it up a notch.
"Hold," Ronar whispered to his men as they took cover in a pile of rubble. A mercenary contingent was making their way through the streets ahead. There didn't seem to be any others nearby, and Ronar guessed that they were in communication by signal means through whatever equipment they had inside their helmets. Speaking of helmets, Ronar was starting to feel a little tightness in his throat and chest. The automatic antidote injectors in his cybernetics prevented any serious reactions to toxins; the gasses spread by the mercenaries were uncomfortable, but not debilitating. However, the injectors were not indefinite. His Wolves did not have the benefits of such protection, though luckily they were wearing gas masks like the majority of the Scar Hound forces. However, the filters in the masks would inevitably need to be replaced.
"We clean this up quick, then return to headquarters for supplies," Ronar said softly to his men,
"If these vile vermin want to play with cheap tricks, so be it." The Wolves nodded, and Ronar fell silent, gesturing with predetermined hand signs for the Wolves to fall into position. They melted into the buildings, cybernetic enhancement and combat training allowing them to maneuver quickly, utilizing the tightly packed buildings as cover. A smile tugged at his lips as Ronar went to his own position at the apex of the ambush, hiding inside of a doorway. At their movement, the mercenary at the head of the column perked up.
"Eyes up, I got something!" Ronar heard the man say as he raised his rifle. Before he could say anything more, a frag grenade sailed through the air to land amongst the contingent.
"Frag!" one of the mercenaries screamed. To his credit, the man didn't panic. With a mighty kick he punted the device, sending it sailing past Ronar's hiding spot to explode several meters away. Unfortunately, the distraction had served its purpose. The four Wolves, given a few precious seconds to get into final position, opened up a withering crossfire on the mercenary squad. Two out of the roughly eight men went down almost immediately, the others yelling as they scrambled to get out of the street and return fire. Before they could scatter, however, Ronar made his move.
With a mighty battle cry, he charged from his hiding place, Bloodreaver gripped tightly in both hands. He had learned since Tython that only certain enemies, the captains and warchiefs, carried the feared laser swords. The average grunts were not permitted such weaponry. So, in the interest of familiarity, and murderous capability, he wielded the fearsome vibroaxe and kept the sword sheathed.
The first enemy noticed his charge, but his cry of warning was drowned by the hail of fire from both sides. Ronar ducked a hastily fired shot and swung Bloodreaver, burying the blade several centimeters deep in the armored chest. The man coughed and fell, Ronar pulling the blade free only to cut into the knees of a second man who whirled to face him, eyes suddenly full of fear. Ronar caught the falling body midair with his cybernetic arm, crushing the man's throat like a stick of kindling before hurling his corpse into a third soldier. Chaos had ensued now, the mercenaries unable to comprehend both a four-point ambush and a bloodthirsty marauder in their very midst.
"Retreat!" screamed the mercenary who appeared to be the leader, just before he was gunned down by the fusillade from the entrenched Violet Wolves. Ronar's smile was full faced now as he beheaded a fourth opponent before punching straight though the armor - and torso - of a fifth. Within seconds, the battle was over. Eight corpses lay in a pool of blood in the street, Ronar standing in the midst of it all, grinning like a child who had just received a lollipop.
"This is Bantha 4-2, we've been ambushed!" Ronar heard a voice cry. It was the third soldier, the one he'd thrown a corpse at. He'd extricated himself from the body and was now furiously crawling away from the carnage, yelling into his communicator.
"They're everywhere! Everyone's dead!" the soldier screamed,
"Someone help!"
"Make sure that thing stays on," Ronar said, striding up to the hapless mercenary like a stalking beast,
"I want them to hear your screams." Then the axe blade fell.
In the distance, Ronar heard the sounds of more fire. The sharks had smelled the blood in the water, and were starting their work.
The hunt was on.
~Meanwhile~
The Mawite sergeant watched as the mercenary team breached the building from which a body had been hurled just moments before. He guessed that it was the work of the new captain, the one they called Ronar. The man gritted his teeth at the thought of the filthy outsider. The man was a warrior, that much was true, but he was far from a true Mawite, and the sergeant would prove it.
Signaling to his unit of roughly ten Scar Hound warriors, the sergeant indicated the mercenary squad. His men nodded, and began moving into ambush positions. As soon as the mercenaries showed themselves, they would attack.
"Glory to the Scar Hounds," the sergeant whispered to himself.
Shar Sieu
Five: Kaul "Joker" Emos Six: Mylo Thorne Seven: Leon Gallo Nine: Artemis Toth Ten: Qellene Tyliame Eleven: Zev Garallia Twelve: Tristram Vos 
