Location: Garang City, Dantooine
Equipment: Jyani’Eirmityr |
The Twin Dancers (Twin Lightsabers) |
Apostasy’s End (Lightstaff) | a Cortosis sword
Forces: Aagenti’s Legion (Quarter Capacity) |
Telis’s Big Scary Drake “Friend” | Mixed
Husks and
Reforged
Allies: The Sith Empire | The Confederacy of Independent Forces |
Darth Strosius
Enemies: The New Imperial Order
Objective: Evacuate the stragglers of Garang City | Stand steadfast against tyranny, without falter | Let the enemies of the Sith Empire know war.
Post Number: II
From above the two squadrons and the young Sith acolyte came a horrific sound, like the screeching of a dying bird mixed with the roar of a primordial beast. It was something ancient and dark, carrying with it a foul wind and a foul omen, a dark tiding in its true entirety. The call carried over and above the sounds of fighting near the edges of the city, clarion and resonant in its horrifying auspice. A shadow fell over the ground as the call sounded out, blotting out what little light there was above Garang and casting a penumbral darkness. Winged, tailed, sharpened and crescent-edged. The few civilians that looked up on terror and awe saw that the beast was somehow even more penumbral compared to the shadow it cast.
Lord Aagenti drove the Cirmuhai into a swift dive towards the ground, holding his sword in a driving position above his head, his armor gleaming scarlet in light of the bloody day. He had already seen battle by the appearance of his slaked blade and glinting gear, and the beast he rode upon had its maw drenched in blood and acrid venom. He had traveled far to the limits of the city to see to it that nobody got left behind, and that these tyrants would not slaughter the people the Sith had promised to protect. These were his flock and his charge, and his feast laid
only within the veins of those that dared to defile his lands.
The shadow of the Cirmuhai dipped down low, it's hindmost talons extended like a harrier’s claws. A Stormtrooper, running up towards Alisteri, suddenly disappeared with nothing more than a screech of brief terror, as he was pulled away from the ground by the claws of the beast. The dragon clenched its claws, feeling the armor give… before cracking, like an egg, and the familiar feeling of warm blood ran over its claws as the soldier went limp and his screaming ceased. Throwing the body of the defiler into a burning building nearby, the wyrm came to the ground beside Alisteri, reeling back its head as it let loose another horrifying cry.
”There is no time to die on a day like this, Acolyte, even with how much blood we must shed. We mustn’t give them the pleasure of any victory.” Lord Aagenti shifted on the dragon’s back, throwing himself to the ground as the hail fire of blaster bolts began to rain upon him and his beast. Raising a hand to protect himself and his Cirmuhai, he held the heaviest of the barrage in mid-air, staring at the soldiers, brief looks of confusion upon them before he sent the volley back towards them in an inaccurate blast, moreso meant to spread chaos then actually do damage.
”We have our charge equally, Acolyte, and that is with the people who have served us. Now we must serve them in turn.” Aagenti turned towards Alisteri for a moment, beneath his mask a hint of curiosity at the almost familiar face. He could almost place where he knew him from, but it didn’t matter. That could come later. Right now there was an enemy before them and they were a line that must not break. He couldn’t falter, and he wouldn’t. The line ends where he stood.
Taking the cortosis sword in two hands, the Sith Lord stood side-by-side with the Alisteri Haxim, and the Cirmuhai lowered down as well, fangs bared as its scales seemed to almost flare out. There was a putrid smell in the air as it exhaled, it’s breath becoming more and more toxic as Aagenti stood the ground with the Acolyte. Together, the pair of them could change the parameters of this mission. Not just stalling until the civilians got away and could be assisted by the Cadavarii, but making sure that none of the barbarians before them would walk away. That one small message could be sent to NIO as part of the grand chorus of the day:
We bow to no man.
0237 pulled the blade in her gauntlet out from the cracked, bleeding visor of a New Imperial Stormtrooper, watching the body fall limply to the floor with the rest of the corpses in the hallway. The tunnel had become a visceral mire of blood, corpses, and strewn, burnt body parts. The subterranean network beneath Garang wasn’t expected to be completely foolproof, but each intrusion into the tunnels had their cost. Time lost, more info getting out to the New Imperial Order, and, more importantly, men. There were countless Stormtrooper bodies in the corridor sent into suicide to try and breach the network… but amidst them there were still fallen Cadavarii.
”Commander! We need to keep moving to the checkpoint! We won’t make it in time to rendezvous if we keep getting bogged down by this NIO scum!” From not too far off there was another shout, and 0237 raised her rifle to her eye. The first Stormtrooper to approach found themselves suddenly lacking a foot of height, their head being removed by the power of the rifle and falling to their knees, as once again the company of the Cadavarii faced off against their attackers. Blood splashed like water with each movement, and the white skull motifs on the helmets of each commando was, by now, more often then now gleaming crimson.
Frustrated at the situation, 0237 lowered her rifle, turning back to the captain with her, the sting still prevalent when she remembered that the man with her was not the one she had fought with even before she was a Cadavarii. In the moment she made a decision, looking back down the hallway.
”Take the package, captain, and the Garang company. I’ll hold here with the auxiliary company from the legion, and we’ll try and keep the lines open. You’ve got a job to do, and we need to keep this place safe for civilians. Go!” She didn’t even look back to see if the captain had followed her orders, merely stepped into the fray, taking two more shots with her rifle before bringing out the wristblade again, carving like a butcher as she led what reserves she could to buy time for the evacuators.
The sounds of that battle were now inaudible, as the fifty-man company had trudged onwards. They had received the relay, and they couldn’t waste time in their task. Above them they could hear the heavy movement of tanks and vehicles, and as they hurried through the winding crypt, they occasionally passed by companies of the Cadavarii leading civilians through the tunnels. They were all bloody and broken, looking more like their name suggested, just as bad as the citizens that looked to the silent vigil for guidance in the abyss. The Cadavarii had been a myth to them, like boogeymen, watchers who’d slaughter you in the night. And now they bled and died for them to walk free, carrying those that couldn’t walk, just as ragged as the refugees that hadn’t been able to escape. This network was a lifeline of evacuation. This network couldn’t fall.
The dull clamor above was the largest thing, sometimes monotonous, and other times like the world coming down upon them. The captain, Xiakol-5493, kept his path, gripping the gun in clawed hands and hissing silently. His heart beat in his ears, tension filling the air as eventually the battle seemed to take a different pattern, close but still distant, leaving the only sounds being the ones of the soldiers breathing and ones of their own footsteps against the ground. 5493 looked up from the relay, up towards the ceiling above them and then to the rest of the company. He didn’t even have to say the words, the whole of the gathered group of commandos knew it already as he looked to them, putting the device at his side and gripping the heavy satchel he carried over his shoulders, dropping to a kneel.
”We’re here.” The words carried like a death sentence, and he could taste and smell the tension in the air like a perfume. It was equal parts rancid yet… admirable. This is what they were born to do. There was no fear of death in them, but rather a fear of failure. Should they fail in what they did next, then everything would be for naught. As one they began to set up the link, pulling out their components and building the frame, taking up the whole of the corridor. They needed to get a message out, and there was only one way to truly do it. As 5493 finished, he once more pulled out the scanner, switching a few channels and pulling up two displays. Now they waited, until the right moment, anticipating the opening that would only come once.
And while they waited, 0237 kept her staunch defense up against the interception of the halls. Slowly the plans began to be put into action, as bit by bit more and more of the auxiliary began to pull away, treading away from the paths until only 0237 was left alone, taking up the rear as the final of the stormtroopers laid dead. In the crimson light she was something horrible to behold, covered in scorch marks, his visor cracked and her armor dented and scarred, and her arms and legs stained with crimson blood, her own violet blood framing a part of her visor. Taking a moment to breath, 0237 took a step back, stepping out of the carnage, and sealing off the hallway, once more ensuring that tunnels would be safe… at least for the moment. Already she could hear more fights up ahead.
But she would greet the enemies of the Empire with open arms.
