Location: Mustafar, Planetside.
Sub-Location: Mensix Mining Facility - Exterior Landing Platforms
Allies: The First Order and their Allies.
In Vicinity: [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Commander Lusk"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Irajah Ven"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | @Heifi Ziegler | [member="BE-183"] | [member="AR-3752"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance and their Allies.
In Vicinity: [member="HK-36"] | [member="Ultimatum"] | [member="Draco Vereen"] | [member="Aver Brand"] | [member="Six-O"] | [member="Elliot Locke"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] |
Primary Objective: Secure the Mining Facility.
Secondary Objective: Rejoin the Strike Force.
Equipment: See Signature for Relevant Links.
Post Count: One.
https://youtu.be/QX9AmVi1_Ww
Its inhuman eyes were pearl-sized fissures sunken deep into the pale alabaster flesh, lifeless sapphire blue orbs ringed by polished ivory sclera glared back into the obsidian eye lenses of Torian’s combat helm, seeking to - somehow - break his foe’s hold through sheer mechanical willpower. The Stormtrooper’s lusterless white gauntlet’s tightened, as his grip on either side of the creature’s face began to constrict, gouging his armoured thumbs ever deeper towards the synthetic edge of the artificial sockets. He could see the cold lethality lingering behind the Hybrid’s eyes, marred only by the flicker of uncertainty that burned within the paired azure irises. By that organic betrayal, the Soldier knew that his foe was not wholly artificial. Instead, it was the first step on the path towards the blessed union of Metal and Flesh. That meant it could understand fear. That meant he could revel in the exhilarating thrill of taking a life and stealing another breath from the bosom of death. He would enjoy this.
Though his arms were held apart by the gripping, clawed armatures of the Hybrid’s inhuman limbs, Torian’s thumbs edged ever closer towards their intended terminus. He smiled then, as the flicker of apprehension materialized once more. It was clear that the Hybrid’s death was inevitable, yet it sought to struggle, to cling onto whatever scraps of humanity it had left, hoping in vain to live another day. The sight caused him to laugh, which emanated through his armour as a throaty roar of boulders tumbling down the mountainside. This creature was to be his killer, and yet the tides had turned when a lucky shot from his rifle had laid the beast low. It gave the Stormtrooper his avenue of execution, as the Bakuran stormed from the lowered assault ramp of his Lander and slammed his knees down upon the prone creature. Others from his squad and their fellow unit of Soldiers had found themselves engaged with the defenders of the Mining Facility, fighting to stake claim over this protruding beachhead.
He leaned forward, pushing his weight down the length of his arms and causing his gloved digits to stroke the viscous surface of his enemies eyes.
“Your doom comes,” the Stormtrooper began, allowing his lips to peel back into a serpentine’s approximation of a grin.
“Give into the Abyss!” The nameless Hybrid’s mouth worked in wordless repose, unable to summon the language it once held mastery over. Sparks billowed from the near-organic casing surrounding the creature’s neck, right where a pure born Human’s vocal chords would be. It tried to cry out in agony, or for aid, but as his thumbs began to depress upon the pseudo-gelatin surface, Torian couldn’t care. All that mattered was this creature would suffer, and the fallen brothers of his comrade’s unit would be avenged. He fought against the inhuman strength of the trans-human being, feeling the lactic burn of fatigue slowly simmer within his arms.
“An eye for an eye makes the Galaxy blind. So, before I can no longer see, I’ll take yours first!”
With all the strength he could muster, Torian pushed forward and gouged his gauntleted thumbs deep into the Hybrid’s pearlescent sclera, feeling the confiture of organic fluids pour over the curvature of his armoured digits. The creature screamed in all too Human anguish, but devoid of its artificial larynx, it’s jaw soundlessly mouthed the registered pain flowing through its various receptors. He dug deeper as the metallic grip that stayed his wrath slackened, allowing him to position his hands in perfect alignment. With but a whispered command, Torian’s gauntlet’s were enveloped by a corona of stored electrical energy, which surged through the connective bridge and coruscated within the fragile, and highly conductive positronic matrix seated within the hardened enamel of the Hybrid’s skull. The creature’s death throes caused it’s synthetic muscles to spasm atop the ash-laden landing pad, sending the sprawling creature into a fit of violent convulsions. Withdrawing his thumbs from the gelatin filled sockets with a characteristic pop, Torian roused himself from his latest kill and collected his trademarked weapon. The Stormtrooper gunned the activation trigger and sent the spinning teeth in conflicting directions. It’s ursine roar echoed across the breadth of the landing pad, forcing several synthetic creatures and their Android cousins to tear their attentions away from the re-grouping lines of Stormtroopers.
As the challenge was issued, and as they began to swarm towards his person, Torian felt a shiver of exhilaration shoot down his spine. Perhaps one of these inhuman creatures were blessed by the Lady Fortune and would claim his life this day. He welcomed death with open arms, and as such, stretched himself wide as if to embrace those that sought only to make him a corpse. That, however, was his greatest ploy, as when they closed the gap in their bounding strides, the Stormtrooper cleft three of their number apart in a single stroke. Phrik-forged teeth chewed through the inferior metal as if it was paper, carving organic flesh and metallic composites alike with a hungering impunity. The nameless weapon within his grasp cared not from whence the death toll came, only that it’s hunger was sated by those seeking to challenge the weapon’s Master. Its cup would runneth over this day, as Torian rent another mechanical being in twain on the backswing.
“Is there no-one else?” He called, allowing the armour’s vocabulator to cast his voice out into the din of an escalating battle. The man was breathing heavily now, eagerly waiting for the next fool to surge into the fray. As the moment passed, and the molten atmosphere once again filled with the cries of battle and the lightning crack of discharged blaster weapons, the Stormtrooper heaved forth a heavy sigh. There was no-one else; none that were worthy of being slain and awarded the honour of adorning his weapon’s grisly trophy tassels. When he had boarded the Assault Lander on the hangar deck of the Concordia, that had been his greatest regret. There was an inkling that soured within his belly that had urged him to find himself being deployed to another sector of this Invasion. Through a series of decisions that he wasn’t sure why he had made, the Sergeant and his Squad of Stormtroopers had found themselves bound to the surface in the belly of an iron beast.
They were assailed by a hail of archaic rail-mounted shells, consigned to the void of gravity’s caress and spat out in futility. Several vessels were struck by the wrathful precision of inhuman guidance systems, whilst others were laid low due to the violent interjection of atmospheric fighters. While their TIE/sf Escorts had peeled away, seeking to deny the enemy the pleasure of slaying the fragile troop transports, there were those that had drawn the short straw. They, like their Imperial Grey-skinned brothers, plummeted to the surface on tails of fire, thickening the already volcanic atmosphere with their spiraling demise. That was when, by the blessing of Lady Fortune, that the Sergeant and another Lander bearing the sigils of the Eighth Assault Company had made their landing on one of the first landing platforms of the mining facility. When their forward hatches slammed down, depositing the Stormtroopers within onto the protruding pad, the battle had begun in earnest. The enemy stormed out from the shadows of the compound, filling the holds of the Assault Lander’s with plasmatic cannonade and archaic, coalesced thunder contained within a magnetic sheath. Their shields had flickered and faded as the first of the Stormtroopers had surged onto the landing platform with their rifles raised.
Torian remembered being one of the first to charge into the fray, his Charric singing a merry tune as it sent sapphire beams of maser-based projectiles into the thickening ranks of the enemy. He recalled the soft chime that resonated throughout his helmet, as the weapon within his grasp had signaled that its plasma cartridge had run dry. What the Stormtrooper couldn’t remember, was how the Charric ran dry so quickly. No matter, He told himself, as the weapon found itself magnetically clamped to his armour. The man had other means by which he could slay his foe. That had eventually led him down the path towards gouging out the eyes, of what would later be known as a Hybrid, and the hewing of artificial meat with every swing of his Butcher’s axe. He breathed in a heady mixture of recycled atmosphere, feeling it’s invigoratingly stale air fill his lungs to bursting. As the Stormtrooper exhaled, he- The protruding platform rocked as the first of the volcanic tremors impacted the facility. Towering pillars of magma shot up from the flowing rivers beneath, doing little than bathing the lowest platform in ethereal lightning, as the mining facilities dorsal shields absorbed the sudden molten surge. Taken off balance by the tectonic shift, the Stormtrooper crashed to the duracrete flight deck, feeling the impact roll through the entirety of his armoured form. Fresh agonies rippled through his body, causing him to groan in pain. He tried to stand, but all progress he made was stolen from him as the second tremor tore at the Mining Complex’s foundation. He had heard stories about the methods of the Alliance and their insidious allies, so as the supplementary tremors had begun rippling through the volcanic surface, the Bakuran knew that they had sought to once again level the playing field by deploying one of their God-like beings into the fray. It seemed that they were frightened to fight the righteous men and women of the First Order face to face, and sought to snuff out their lives with wave upon wave of faceless drones and self-proclaimed deities.
Managing to right himself and active the mag-seals on his boots, the Stormtrooper Sergeant cast his gaze over his shoulder and looked for his embattled unit. They were pulling themselves up from the ground, just as he had seconds before, and were resuming their fight against the seemingly endless tide of mechanical fury. He smiled then. Not the curling crescent of a madman, but an honest grin of pride. The man had known these Soldiers for a short time, having replaced their Sergeant after he was brutally murdered on the radioactive wasteland of Kaeshana. They had a hard time accepting him into their pack, and taking orders from someone who hadn’t seen the worst that the Alliance had to offer. It was something that they would hold against him for weeks, as he led them from one bloody engagement to another. Through the bonds of blood and fellowship, they began to see him for what he truly was, and what horrors that he endured in the hours leading up to, and throughout the entire Kaeshana Insurrection.
Though they may have seen the conflict from differing angles, their bond was forged upon the harrowing experiences wrought by a common foe. Thus, as the eve of battle had come to the Alliance’s door - they found themselves no longer divided by broken bonds. Instead, having found common ground, the Squad had formed an unlikely alliance of their own. So, in recognition of the oaths they had sworn aboard the
'Concordia' before they had made the drop, Torian sucked in another greedy mouthful of air and unleashed a stream of ceaseless order’s that had rallied his Squad to their Sergeant, with rifles raised. His objective now, having made planetfall and surviving the opening volley, was to regroup with his fellow soldiers. So, as the man smoothly withdrew his sidearm and took aim at the rising tide of synthetic foes, the Sergeant strode forwards into the fray - seeking to rejoin the errant contingents of the Strike Force and claim this facility in the name of the First Order.
