Faction Objective 3 - Siege of the Industrial Works

[Tales of the Diarchy]

​

Location: Bescane | Industrial Works
Tags:

---

The Cowardly Warlord Voss has gone back on his deal with the Diarchy, mass producing tanks and fortified positions, he is well prepared for the assault on the planet.

The brave men and women of the Diarchy Military forces have brought our full mechanized division to bare, utilizing the equipment gifted to us by the Lilaste Order, we lay siege to the treacherous warlord and showcase what happens to those would stand against Order.

Become a tank commander and lay waste to our enemies, or lead brave men and women through the fortified positions within the industrial works and secure these means of production for the Diarchy!

The Choice is yours!

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Bescane | The Industrial Works
Tags: Naamino Zuukamano Micah tol Powl Gavin Vel

---

Darth Reign was aboard the lead gunship, the Navy of the Diarchy providing them a narrow window to get men and equipment down to the surface.



As the battle groups split, Reign and his cohort veered towards the industrial district. As they approached, the heavy shield covering the main buildings of the works shimmered in the air in front of them. Reign had no time to observe where the potential generator may have been, as anti-aircraft fire began lighting up the sky around them.



Veering sharply, the gunships headed towards the designated LZ on the outskirts of the area.
As soon as they hit the ground, the Diarch took control. Designating an area for their forward operating base, establishing a firing line for the Diarchy's artillery support, and ensuring a logistics plan was in motion to support the walkers and infantry when the blockade was broken.



As the fortifications were underway, Reign surveyed his battlefield with macrobinoculars. The industrial works were a sprawling area, glimmering with enemy tanks and fortifications. Each step would be under heavy fire, there was no way to avoid taking some losses in the days to come, a thought which saddened the Diarch greatly.



Giving direction to his artillery engineers, Reign ordered suppression fire for the forward most lines of fortifications, acting as a deterrent. Utilizing the gunships and artillery as cover, the droid soldiers completed the Diarchy's fortified command center. As the power came online, Reign gathered his commanders around the holoprojector to develop a plan of assault.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano Gavin Vel
[ outfit ] [ lightsaber ] [ medkit ]

[ post theme ]
​

How had he let Naami talk him into this?

As the young Cathar clung to the oh sith bar while the gunship plunged into the hail of lasers and artillery, the kit was again presented with the likelihood that his following the Iridonian was going to lead to his death. Apparently strapping himself into a prototype cockpit that had then lodged itself in a public bathhouse had not been a strong enough lesson. Now they were out in the Outer Rim, on a planet that the boy had never even heard of.

And from what he could see from here, he hadn't missed anything.

Factories. Smog. More factories. More smog.

The hunting here had to be terrible. And still, somehow, people were willing to war over this infinitesimally tiny speck in a galaxy full of planets, in a universe full of galaxies. Now, just think: they could all be reading a book right now.

The one silver lining to this was that they were close to Bastion. The libraries there were supposed to be quite impressive, with a long Imperial tradition that included having been host to the Sith Empire of Darth Carnifex at one point. Certainly worth a side trip.

If they survived, that is.

Which, why were they doing this again? Oh, yes, because Naami.

So why was he here? As if he even needed to ask. All it took was a pair of blue eyes and the cat would apparently agree to anything. Much to his regret.

Though, the boy would be lying if he said that he wasn't the slightest bit curious about this technology that the Diarchy was using. The metal plating on the walker, for example. It wasn't a material that he'd been able to identify yet. It wasn't impervium. And it damn sure wasn't durasteel. Plus, was that a mass driver cannon? The tanks were... well, less interesting. Impervium. Fairly standard weapons.

The walker though, that was intriguing.

Lost in his thoughts about the walker, the boy had been on auto-pilot. Absently following behind the Zabrak as the students disembarked the gunship and joined the dark lord du jour around a holo-table.

Was Gavin with them? Had he and Naami been talking between themselves? The cat couldn't have said, his mind was still trying to reverse engineer the mass driver cannon. Though, now that he was standing in the presence of an actual darth, he should probably pay attention.

Not that he really knew just what to pay attention to. Soldiering was really more of Naami's thing.

The cat was more of an idea man.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Bescane
Industrial Works

​

So very much had happened in such a short span of time. From the moment he'd left the only home he could remember, Naamino's life had been a whirlwind of hard lessons, burgeoning new powers and baffling but bolstering friendships. The boy's growth thus far had been remarkable, metaphysically and otherwise. He seemed to be sprinting into this new chapter of life, in contrast to his first cautious steps taken through academy halls.

From his first duel, to his first time in the pilot's seat, and on to many other novel experiences besides, like the task of creating his first light saber with Gavin Vel there at his side. Just a year ago the zabrak wouldn't have believed what all he'd managed to accomplish in such a short span of time. It even seemed that very soon he might be ready to undergo the coming of age ritual that nearly every member of his species dreamed of when they were little. His first tattoos!

But he needed to focus on the task at hand, this last great "first" before he would truly be able to call himself a man: going to war. Despite his eager anticipation, experience was starting to temper his nerves more often and the boy was more regularly overtaken by calm confidence rather than self imposed stoicism.

So it was with a fierce grin plastered on his face that he entered atmosphere with his cathar best friend at his side in the gunship- blue eyes gleaming with the light of enemy and retaliatory fire alike. And it was with stern, brow scrunching focus that he stood to attention at the left hand of Darth Reign. His battle brother, Gavin was to the man's right and Naami felt more reassured than he let on by the way Micah tol Powl guarded his shadow.

His robes were simple and styled after military fashion, the left breast decorated with his student rank and House Rakghoul insignia. This recently issued attire was already becoming snug again in the shoulders and it wouldn't be long before he was knocking on the door of the recently overworked fatigues tailor of Kor'ethyr. On Naami's hip he proudly wore the lightsaber he had crafted under Reign's guidance and the weapon was clipped to a very fine belt which truly brought his entire outfit together. Micah’s sense of fashion in combination with practical tactical use for such equipment continued to benefit the zabrak greatly.

Maps of the area were downloaded, extra grappling spikes packed in case the need arose for a lot of expeditious urban traversal, and his arms were wrapped for battle in new moon-blue linen from home. All of his fierce excitement from the journey in had cooled and the boy followed suit of his mentor. Mirroring Diarch Reign as best he could by taking on an air of deference to the Lord himself and confident command where common soldiers were concerned. His bright eyes tracked movements on the holoprojector as he committed strategy to memory.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Bescane | Industrial Works
Tags: Micah tol Powl Naamino Zuukamano

---

The Diarch pulled the officers together, the Acolytes from the Academy on Korriban at his sides.
This was to be their first test of leadership, seeing how well they would hold up to the rigors of real war, and being responsible for the men under their command.

Outlining his strategy to take forward command sectors, and operate under heavy mechanized support, it was established that the force would split into two, to take outlying sectors with special forces targeting the enemy artillery and shield generator.

Pulling the acolytes aside he said "This will be unlike anything you have experienced before, lives hang in the balance. Not only your own, but the men and women under your command."

Taking Gavin Vel with him, The Diarch determined he would assault the more heavily fortified positions, leaving it up to the acolytes to determine if they wanted to lead the special forces or assault another hard point.

---

The artillery fire was deafening, bombardment both to and fro had cause the Diarchy many droid soldiers. Luckily, the biological men and women, were mostly protected in the rear guard.

Coming into the woods surrounding his first objective, Reign barely had time to react before blaster bolts lit up the area around him.
The Diarch had walked straight into an ambush.

Lightsaber ignited, he stepped forward, batting blaster bolts back towards their senders.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano
[ outfit ] [ lightsaber ] [ field com-scan ] [ medkit ]

[ post theme ]​

After the Diarch had outlined his strategy, the cat tapped the Sith badge that he wore. A series of holographic bubbles appeared, providing a top-down view based on the currently available sensor telemetry for the area that Naami had been tasked with breaching.

Now, this was not a video game. But if it were a video game then how would he approach it?

Plus, he'd been binging a ton of RTS games to help prepare for this.

"The walker represents the greatest threat, so we can likely use that," the cat murmured, switching to mark-up mode and beginning to make a series of circles and lines on the holograms as a plan started to come together. "Use the mass driver canon here," he offered, circling one target before moving to the next. "...and here."

Drawing a line further toward the ironworks, the boy continued. "Then advance toward here. They appear to have a shield generator operating somewhere in this area. No doubt, they'll move assets from either of these positions to try and take out the walker. That should create vulnerabilities here and here that we could exploit to break their lines."

Pinch off the re-positioned forces, cut them off from reinforcement, and then whittle down the opposing force while hopefully getting a better targeting angle and data on the shield generator.

In many respects, war was a lot like organizing a hunt. There were just far more moving targets.

The Diarch's strategy was sound, but it struck the cat that it would come down to who won the game of attrition -- as so many RTS games did. There were, of course, alternatives to fighting. But, he wasn't sure that they were good alternatives. "There's also a spell we could use. Well. Maybe." Sith sorcery was not an exact science. And the cat wasn't even supposed to know as much as he did. Since his elevation to House Derriphan, however, he'd suddenly had access to secrets and information that he hadn't before.

Not the least of which had been a scroll one of the upperclassmen had been studying before falling alseep in one of the Derriphan reading rooms, which the Cathar had decided to take the scroll for safekeeping. You know, so no one unscrupulous came along and tried to take advantage of the situation.

Plus, it was a Sith scroll. Hell yes he was taking that.

He'd figure out a way to return it and not get in trouble later.

But, having a scroll and knowing how to use said scroll were too very different things. "It would take me a long time to attempt to cast it, assuming it would work. But, in theory, it would leave the ironworks intact. But... but, our chances of actually pulling it off are, like, twenty... twenty-five percent at best. So let's call that Plan C. Or D. Possibly E or F."

He was giving Naami options. Whether they were good options or not? He'd let Naami decide.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Bescane
Industrial Works

Outfit: Belt of Strength, Field Com, Saber,
Kor-ethyr Student Robes
​

Steely eyes softened as they fell upon Micah tol Powl and Naami added the cathar's input to the growing battle schematic swirling in his mind. He gave a nod in understanding and expounded a bit on the boy's ideas before turning to the special forces team he intended to lead into battle.

"That plan with the canons is sound- we'll use it. That'll lay down some cover for us," he indicated the troops he'd been granted command of.
"Can you pinpoint that shield generator?" His face was transformed with a fierce grin as he elaborated, "I'd love to disarm or sabotage the piece of chit."

Solemnity returned as his eyes left Micah and turned upon the troops, gesturing to the mark ups and adding his own in clarification.

"You two, with me- the rest of you will press forward to the points he indicated. Your role will be to intercept the assets they send to take the walker. Don't let them- use the vulnerabilities we anticipate and take every advantage as it comes. If you must, regroup at this point and update me. Any kind of 'battle ritual' will be held in reserve as a last ditch back up plan."

He took questions from the men and women sworn to Diarch Reign and entrusted to his leadership. Naami looked and acted the part well, but his true test was before him. How would he handle the weight of that role in the midst of crisis, would the heat of battle temper him or burn him to cinders? Time to find out.

Farewells and salutes were offered to Reign and Gavin Vel before they set out on their own task. While troops made final adjustments to weapons and armor, Naami turned to Micah and firmly squeezed his shoulder.

"You stay in defensible zones ok? Can't have our genius out on the front lines- and thanks for watching my six." His voice was soft but resolute.

With that, Naami turned to dive into the action.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano
[ outfit ] [ lightsaber ] [ field com-scan ] [ medkit ]

​

"...and thanks for watching my six."

The cat just blinked as the Iridonian departed.

The silence lingered before finally...

"Did... he just tell me to look at his ass?"

Not that he would. Not that he did. He happened to think that Naami had nice glutes and he knew for a fact that Gavin Vel would never permit the Zabrak to skip leg day... but, still, was it really an appropriate comment to make going into a battle?

And who referred to it as a six anyway?

With a shake of his head, the cat tried to dismiss the rather perplexing comment and turn his attention to an overhead view of the engagement.

"Watch that crossfire, you've got a line of shooters on a ridge to your left," the cat noted into the com-net. "Approximately two-nine-zero, elevation zed-plus-five."

Scrutinizing the holo-map before him, the cat's eyes prowled over the various pieces on the proverbial game board. Trying to assess each in turn and come up with a strategy.

That shield generator was a problem, though. They weren't getting any penetrating fires inside the opposing territory while that was operational.

 

[Gavin Vel]

Location: Siege of the Industrial Works, Bescane

Tags: Darth Reign, Open to Interaction



Gavin stood amidst the chaos, the roar of artillery and the hum of repulsor engines creating a symphony of destruction all around him. The acrid scent of burning metal filled the air as blaster bolts streaked across the sky, slamming into the reinforced defenses of the industrial works. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber, its crimson blade a stark contrast against the smoke-filled battlefield.



Darth Reign loomed ahead, his presence like an unyielding anchor amidst the storm. Gavin followed close, his towering form cutting through the waves of Diarchy soldiers as they surged forward. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of their mission pressing down on him. This wasn’t just a battle; it was a statement. A reminder of the power of the Diarachy and the consequences of betrayal.



“This Warlord’s got some fight in him,” Gavin muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of anticipation and irritation. He could see the heavily fortified walls ahead, bristling with turrets and shield generators. Every second spent on the battlefield was another test, another opportunity to prove himself in the eyes of his mentor.



Reign’s voice cut through the din, issuing orders with precision and authority. Gavin’s respect for the Sith Lord had grown over time, but so had his desire to match the man’s strength. He knew this battle was more than just a mission—it was a chance to show Reign he was more than brute force.



“Do we cut straight through, or are we taking the scenic route?” Gavin asked, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he gestured toward the industrial complex. Despite the tension, he thrived in the chaos. Combat was where he felt alive, where the Force seemed to flow most freely through him.



Without waiting for an answer, Gavin surged forward, deflecting an incoming blaster bolt with his lightsaber. His muscles coiled as he leapt onto a nearby barricade, clearing the way for the troops behind him. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the primal energy of battle fueling his every move.



“Warlord Voss better be worth the effort,” he growled, slashing through an enemy soldier with a single, devastating strike. He turned back briefly, his gaze locking onto Reign. “What’s the plan, master? Let me loose, and I’ll clear a path straight to him.”



Suddenly, blaster fire erupted from the side, a coordinated ambush catching their forces off guard. Soldiers shouted in alarm as a barrage of bolts rained down from the elevated catwalks above. Gavin’s instincts flared as he spun on his heel, his lightsaber slicing through a bolt aimed squarely at his chest.



“Ambush!” he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos as he stepped forward to intercept the attackers. He pushed his way toward Reign, slashing through the blaster fire with quick, precise movements. His rage simmered just beneath the surface, the adrenaline in his veins turning into a focused fury.



Gavin’s towering frame became a bulwark, deflecting bolts to protect the advancing troops. “Damn cowards!” he snarled, his voice booming over the sounds of combat. “Come down here and fight me!”



Through the chaos, he could see Reign’s calculating gaze, unshaken by the ambush. Gavin felt a flicker of reassurance; if anyone could turn this situation around, it was the Sith Lord. But he wasn’t about to let Reign take all the glory.



“Cover me!” Gavin shouted, charging toward the nearest catwalk with reckless determination. His blade flashed as he leapt into the fray, ready to tear through the ambushers and prove, once again, that he was a force to be reckoned with.

 

[Kallous]

Kallous sat at the helm of his ship. The Stingray broke atmosphere and sped to the staging area outside Bescane's capital. He piloted his vessel to only a hundred feet or so above the ground before pulling up into even flight. Anti aircraft weapons would have a hard time locking on and targeting him at such a low altitude, so he could approach and land in the staging area with relative safety.

He opened his comm channel, contacting Lord Diarch Reign Diarch Reign to report in. "My Lord. This is Oathsworn Kallous, I have arrived on the planet and am coming into the staging area now. I will be en route to FOB Bravo momentarily."

As he spoke into his comm unit he prepared the ship for landing. Activating the landing engines to help the ship hover in place so he could land without issue. And lowering the landing gear as he approached the landing site.

He felt his blood rushing through his veins as his heart quickened with excitement. He had been training nigh endlessly for the past month or so since his joining the Diarchy, and he was eager to put his newly acquired skills to the test. He had since worked out his imbalance and inner turmoil, and now he could focus on the fight more. He was also eager to put his newly learned Soresu techniques into practice. He was by no means a defensive pacifist, but he knew the benefits of defending oneself sufficiently on the battlefield. So his primary Djem So complimented by a secondary form in Soresu was a combination he wanted to try out in the field. And now he could.

As soon as his vessel touched down he began making his way towards the objective. He had an enemy bunker to clear, their secondary forward operating base helping coordinate everything they were doing to slow the Diarchy down. And with Diarch Reign already going for one, he would like to destroy the other in short order to fully cut the head from the snake, and destroy cohesion on the enemy's front. Making the Diarchy's advance faster and less costly.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Bescane | Industrial Works
Tags: Gavin Vel Micah tol Powl Naamino Zuukamano

---

The Diarch’s mind worked overtime, the coordinated pincer movement from the woods and the catwalks had caught him by surprise.
But as his protege moved towards the catwalks, it provided the Diarch his moment.

Motioning to the droids and biological men under his command he shouted “Cover Vel! Leave these cowards to me!”

with that the soldiers turned to provide support for the hulk of a man clearing their path.

The Diarch himself turned, and headed into the woods, his lightsaber blazing a path before him.
Blaster bolts wizzed by him and explosions shook the ground around him as he charged forward.

Clearing the group of men from the woods he turned to asses the other side.

“Vel report!”

looking above he saw the shields were still up, speaking into his compline he said to Micah tol Powl in the command center.

“Micah, the shields are still up, do you have Naamino’s location? What is his status”

 

[Gavin Vel]

Location: Siege of Bescane
Tag: Diarch Reign

Gavin barely registered Reign’s command for the soldiers to cover him—not that he needed it. The men on that catwalk were already as good as dead. Augmented by the power of the Dark Side, Gavin’s massive frame moved with inhuman speed. His first target didn’t even have time to scream; the shock in his eyes was frozen as Gavin’s crimson blade cut him down effortlessly.

The surprise on their faces—he never tired of it. He had seen that look countless times throughout his life, and each time it only fueled him more. Now, however, it did more than stroke his ego; it gave him power. The Dark Side pulsed through his veins like molten fire, intoxicating him with its energy. He could feel it, feeding on the fear and desperation of those around him, amplifying his strength and speed.

"STOP HIM!" The frantic cries of the soldiers echoed through the industrial complex, but they were futile. Gavin’s laughter roared over the chaos as he cut through them, one after another, his blade leaving trails of destruction in its wake. For these men, there was no escape. Those who weren’t felled by his saber met their end from the blaster fire below, the troops Reign had ordered providing ruthless covering fire.

The slaughter was swift, brutal, and complete. The catwalk was soon littered with the lifeless bodies of men who had tried in vain to stop the force of nature that was Gavin Vel. He stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving, the adrenaline and the Dark Side coursing through him like a drug. His lips curled into a triumphant grin as he nudged one of the fallen soldiers with his boot, relishing in his dominance.

"Catwalk is clear," he reported, his voice carrying a mixture of exhilaration and cold detachment. He deactivated his lightsaber, the crimson blade retracting with a hiss. "Warlord Voss is sufficiently shitting himself, I’d guess." His tone dripped with dark humor, though he doubted Reign would reply. The Sith Lord was all business, rarely indulging in Gavin’s flair for theatrics, and Gavin respected him for it.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of his power, the Dark Side humming in the back of his mind like a low growl. He was becoming more than a man—he was a weapon, a force of destruction. Against foes like these, he truly felt like a god. But in the back of his mind, the whispers of the Dark Side reminded him: there would always be stronger opponents, and his journey to true power was far from over.

"What's next?" he asked, his voice cutting through the comms with the confidence of someone who was ready for the next challenge. The thrill of battle hadn’t left him yet, and he craved more. Always more.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Bescane
Industrial Works

Outfit: Belt of Strength, Field Com, Saber,
Kor-ethyr Student Robes
​

The zabrak was off without further delay, sticking in close formation with his chosen trio and soon breaking off from the main squadron to creep around an alternate route toward a smilar destination. Warning from Micah tol Powl about crossfire hit his ear just as searing blaster fire rained down - pinning the main group of his elite squad where they were. He wasn't much better off to be honest. A growl of frustration filled his throat as he thought how to proceed. Micah's helpful markers gave him a thought... It was probably crazy but he needed to try. There were people relying on him and besides, he'd been itching to put both his new saber and belt to use.

"Detour, Core Squad stay covered- give me some cover fire if you can."

He rocked on his heels a bit, readying to dart out. Naami reach for his saber, finally bringing it up to activate it in a defensive position with readiness to deflect blasters and sent one last message out to Micah alone.

"Gotta handle this first, going to clear them out up there then focus on the shield emitter."

And he was off with a dash, deflecting bolts while closely followed by his two companions. The scream of injured soldiers, shouted orders, artillery fire, and so much else clanged against his senses- a disorienting fog of war the he could not allow to shake his focus. His main grouping of troops pulled through with some suppressive fire but they took losses for it. Naami skidded to a halt beneath the outcropping and twisted remains of some mangled blast door. Panting as he assessed the best way up. When he glanced around he realized only one of his two companions was with him, the other left lifeless in the dust from a bolt the boy hadn't been able to properly deflect.

He growled again in frustration but couldn't waste time. the zabrak activated his belt and shot a grapple hook up over the edge of where the Diarchy's enemy lay, trusting that his remaining companion would also find their way to ascend. The speed at which he rose clearly stunned the gathered opposition because Naami was able to fire off an aggressive force blast into their midst before bringing his saber to bear once more. The remaining soldier did in fact find their way to his side and began firing from behind the cover of the aspiring Sith's shadow.

"Flee or DIE" came his barking command.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Diarch Reign Naamino Zuukamano Gavin Vel
[ outfit ] [ lightsaber ] [ field com-scan ] [ medkit ]

[ post theme ]​

The command center rocked as a volley of artillery landed closer than before.

Dust rained down from the ceiling as the Diarch's voice could be heard. "Mi-<crack>, the shields <crackle> still up... <static> ...do you have Naamino's lo-<crack>? What is his status"

When a small number of dots broke away, the cat knew without looking that it was Naami doing something... well... Naami.

Much valor. Many honor.

Steadying himself against the console as the bunker was rocked a second and third time, the cat barely had to glance up to confirm the information before he reported, "He's leading an assault to try and clear a path at sector..." glancing down to reference a holo-map, the boy supplied the coordinates, "...two-eight-one-seven."

This was going precisely the way that he'd envisioned from his experience with the RTS games. They were caught in a battle to control attrition, whittling away at each other across a widowing field.

To change the outcome, they would need to change the conditions of the experiment.

But how?

The cat gave a low growl in frustration. There was one possibility. But he couldn't say that he was really a fan of that sort of thing. Adventuring out into a hail of blaster fire and artillery was more of Naami's brand. But, if they were going to try introducing a variable to what had become an intractable equation, there did seem to be only one piece left to play on the board.

"I have a plan," the boy remarked finally, before turning toward one of the analyst droids in the room. "Take over for me."

His cape flung back over his shoulder, the boy made his way from out of the command center and through the bunker that seemed on the verge of collapse. As the blast doors parted, the young Cathar was greeted by the sounds of war.

Exhaling, the boy tried to prepare himself for what was about to be unprecedented levels of idiocy. Holding up his hands, he held his breath as he prepared to cast...

...no wait, he needed to check the hand positions for this.

Digging in the pockets of his short pants, the cat looked over a cafeteria napkin that he'd made a crude series of sketches on to remind him how this spell went.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Hold. Feel the Force within the breath. Grasp it. Seize it. The Force was the Sith's to command.

The Force was his to command.

A series of hand gestures, before the boy slapped the ground and the spell was made complete. As the Force became a cloak around him, the cat shimmered out of view.

With that done, the boy kept his one hand on the ground as he arched his back and dropped to all fours. In all honesty, this was the part he cared for the least, if only because it was hard to be a house cat again after letting his more primal side off the leash.

The cat's eyes narrowed as he drew a breath in. The smell of blood. The smell of prey. A growl rumbled in his chest as the invisible predator lanced out from in front of the bunker with an unholy burst of speed. He'd cleared the widowing field and shot into the enemy side of No Man's Land in the blink of an eye.

But where to find the shield generator?

His pace slowed, a shadow upon shadows, as the cat made his way around where troops were repositioning. A trio of riflemen was narrowly avoided. A three-on-one fight, even with the element of surprise, wasn't a fight the cat was looking for.

A radioman running a message. Alone.

He turned a corner, which was when the cat pounced. The sounds of the Diarch's fires impacting against the shields were enough to mask the muffled scream, as blood shot up the side of the building. He needed the radioman alive, but not for long. Crouching over his kill, the cat's hand hovered just over where the man was twitching.

The cat's head came up as the answer was ripped from the man's dying mind. "My lord, the shield will be down in moments," the cat offered, speaking into the comm only briefly, before scrambling up the side of the building.

He could see his target from here, but vaulted over several roof tops to try and get a closer vantage point. The cloaking spell had been dispelled already, so he had to keep to the shadows. But with their faith in the shields overhead, the enemy soldiers didn't seem to have cause to look up.

Still, a new alarm gave rise to the notion that the body of the radioman had been identified already.

Best not to dwaddle.

Extending both arms out, the boy set his wrists together as he started the invocation. "Su...t...."

He could feel power flowing through him. The Sode was pulsating as it reacted to the aggression coming off the battlefield. Dropping his center of gravity, he widened his stance as he continued channeling the Dark Side. "...ta..."

Naami just needed to keep it together for a few minutes longer.

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

Bescane
Industrial Works

Outfit: Belt of Strength, Field Com, Woe,
Kor-ethyr Student Robes
Tags: Diarch Reign Micah tol Powl Gavin Vel
​

It was one thing to issue an intimidating command in the midst of battle, quite another for that to be understood let alone followed. In truth the opposition these soldiers were putting up was admirable but there was nary a force user amongst them. Their main strengths lay in advantage of fighting on home terrain and sheer numbers. Naamino's inexperience didn't hurt either. Panting with adrenaline and batting away the errant bolt still being fired his way, the zabrak stalked forward to close the distance.

"Flee!" he repeated, shouting at the troops who insisted on obstinance, "Or die!"

One man finally caught wind of the changing tide and scrambled out from cover, throwing down his blaster and running to leap down the back of the building as fast as his feet could carry him. The soldier covering Naami's back and flank, the one who'd made it with him across no man's land, shot the defector midair. The teen didn't have time to register that, new blaster fire and shouts started up from the surviving opponents. For a moment it took all his concentration to successfully defend against the barrage, his robes suffering more than one singe mark while the trooper behind him needed to stick closer than ever.

Those moments stretched into the infinite, and somehow he'd also crossed the distance in an instant. Both things felt true. The enemy's last little rooftop stronghold was blasted open with another less controlled application of the Force. That took every soul with it, ripped to pieces or riddled with shrapnel, all but one. They were cornered, truthfully Naami couldn't even tell what species or gender they were, just a terrified green eye and some aquamarine skin of one cheek showed through a busted mask. They threw up heir hands in a clear sign of surrender, and Naamino paused. For that pivotal moment, he was conflicted.

Then instinct took over, his saber came up at the same time that his body made to dodge before thought could even register. It was all over in the span of a blink. The supposedly surrendering soldier slumped over, the tail they'd used to fire the blaster shot going limp too. He heard a gurgle behind him and whirled. His sole companion was mortally wounded, whether by enemy blaster shot or his saber glancing through a vital part of them, Naami truthfully did not know. The boy tried to assess, tried to help the soldier down to the floor. He could hear the gritted teeth in their voice, could feel their vitriol in that dying breath.

"Stupid kid... Its-" a wheeze rattled through their chest, "Out here... its kill or die."

And with that, the boy was alone. Sounds of war rang out all around, but Naamino didn't hear. For a long stunned moment he sat there, crouched in a heap of rubble and covered in gore that wasn't his. Then his body started to move, jerky motions like his joints were cold and his limbs were only half in his control. He cleared the rest of the rooftop and for a time was numb to any incoming communication. After some minutes, some precious long and agonizing minutes, he finally seemed to come to enough to slip over the edge of the roof and rejoin the battle which had presumably moved on a bit without him. His squadron already having pressed ahead once enemy fire died away.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Bescane | Industrial Works
Tags: Micah tol Powl Naamino Zuukamano Gavin Vel Kallous

---

With the report that the shields would be down shortly coming from the Kit, The Diarch pressed forward, catching up to Vel along the catwalks.

Safe from the artillery fire as long as they were within this foundry, Reign looked down the labyrinthian hallways snaking out in front of them.
Turning to Vel a smile on his face, the Diarch said "It's a trap... but these fools need to realize something, they have not trapped us in here with them.. they've trapped themselves here with me.."

With that, the Lord of the Diarchy walked slowly into the hallway, his blade casting an eerie glow in the dark. When suddenly blaster fire erupted from hidden kill holes and doorways throughout the length of the hall.

A dozen or so men choking the area with blaster fire.

His blade a whirling blur, the Diarch pressed onward, pulling weapons from the hands of the first two and slashing them across their chests, leaving the ruin of their bodies smoking in his wake.

The following two he deflected bolts back at, the enemies falling where they stood..

As he approached the end of the hall way, his blade striking through the remaining soldiers as they tried to stand against him, until only one remained.

The foolish man tried to run, but Reign had grasped him within the force and dragged him kicking and screaming to the Diarch's grasp. His gloved hand on his throat, he squeezed the life from the man, lifting him off the ground. As the life faded, Reign dropped him.

Turning back, the kind smile was back on his face as he called to his companions.

"I couldn't let you have all the glory, come, the way is clear."