Location: Breaching Fortress
Objective: Inflitriate, Be Loud, Be Goons
Enemies: SIth Defenders l [member="Darth Voyance"]
Allies: [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] l [member="Rupert Kingswood"] l @Dem Boyz
Oh yeah. The boys were in it.
The big blonde son of a queen did it, he really did it.
The Sappers poured in, and the Rangers began their brutal assault on the actual fortress itself. Grappling hooks were mounted- and up they went. With Tulan at the front. Scaling the wall with Rupert was exhilarating, a blood rush straight to his good parts.
Oh yeah, Tulan was all in while he was fighting.
All in.
A defender peaked his rifle over the wall, trying to take potshots at the Rangers making their way up the gate's walls. He got one Ranger, sending him tumbling down, armor cracking on the ground. Tulan swiveled his body, and drew his sidearm, letting his rifle hang. The disruptor took everything above his nose off, sending the Sith soldier falling over the walls, next to the man who he tried to kill. The Ranger at the bottom gave a weak thumbs up.
Tulan expected nothing less from his boys.
Boys? Maybe not now.
More like goons, hooligans, felons with a uniform.
The Silvers might not have liked it, but Tulan was starting to spring guys out of the pen and the big houses all over the galaxy. Deal was, they behave, wear the armor, shoot the bad guys, slit throats, and they get reduced sentences. Gave men second chances. Then again, he wasn't very open about that fact, but that was a conversation for another time. As standard procedure, they threw smoke grenades, the kind that ruined IR- over the top as they reached the battlements. The confused Sith soldiers didn't have a chance, the ones on the battlements at least. Coughing and confused, and lacking the ability to discern targets through infrared, the Raiders and Rangers made it over the wall-
And one step closer to the Fortress Imperium.
There was a Sith soldier, trying to clear a malfunction in his machine gun, desperately was trying to get a hold on the situation. Through his internal comms, he could hear the rampant silence incoming from multiple positions. The worst was feared- the Rangers were now inside the fortress, through two distinct entry points. He had to move, he had to move quickly otherwise he'd be next.
The last thing he saw was a distinct T-shaped blue visor coming through the smoke. He didn't have time to feel the blaster bolt go through his face. It all went black, and he fell into the fortress.
From his elevated position, Tulan tapped Rupert, sprinting over to him, as the smoke cleared and the firefight resumed.
"Get to the supply depots, set off anything that looks explosive! Try to knock out anything that could be used later."
Thirdas had done his job beautifully, but the kid had more worked to do.
Casualties or not.
Tulan took a deep breath, crouching behind the battlements as his Rangers and the TF Raider operators went to work on giving the now confused and loosely-organized Sith a hell of a time. Soldiers coming out of their barracks were slaughtered like pigs, and generally-
It was hell, for
them at least. For the Rangers and the Raiders, it was a good time. Revenge wasn't the Jedi way.
But they weren't Jedi, were they?
He needed to tell the kid the bad news.
"Drop a flare and the casualty teams get him! He'll be pulled back. We can't afford to lose this momentum! Take your team and get in with the Sappers on the second entry point, we're on the wall- clear out the last defenders and get the hell inside, I got a special job for your big stupid ass."
Tulan did a round check on his rifle, and peaked over the wall. He dome-rocked a Sith trooper trying to sprint to the armory, making a canoe out of once was his skull. He laughed, swiveling to find another target. Through the smoke, through the haze, and through the noise, and high above it all- Tulan seemed like the man, the thing he was- an emissary of the Reaper, a collector of souls. A purveyor of death, and a man hellbent on making as many people dead in as little time possible. He stepped over body after body, coordinating fires and movements, casualty collection and firing positions.
Despite his short stature, there was something ethereal about him- as if he was granted the Reaper's scythe for just a short while. Ice's Deathly Touch, cold and unforgiving, came not in the form of sleep, disease, but in the form of a short, angry man who wanted nothing but to watch the Sith burn. But he remembered what got him here, he remembered what they did. What they took from him, what he was denied.
He'd been dead for years, wandering from one place to the next, too cowardly to take his own life, and he'd been trying to find someone to take his life. He'd told himself that if he could find a good death, he would be okay, that he'd see her again, that all of the things that he did wouldn't matter. But here he was, burning the people that gave him the skills to do it. They took it all from him they took it all from her, they took it all from the galaxy. They plunged the galaxy into darkness, into chaos.
The Silvers would be the one to bring the light back, bring that hope back.
The Jedi wanted to bring the light back with hope, and conquering fear by showing the galaxy that all they needed was hope, was inner peace.
The Rangers were going to light the way to freedom and revenge with fire. Tulan wanted to line the road to victory with bodies, hang every single Sith by their necks until they were dead. No quarter, no mercy, no surrender. The Fortress, tactically, wasn't that big of a target, in the grand scheme of things. It was a symbol. Of their might. Of their power.
They were gonna take it away from them.
And they were gonna let them know who did it.
