Public Operation: Nightfall

[Aron Thress]

Aron Thress
Obj1
Location: Iziz Royal Courtyard
Tags: Darth Saevius Jenn Kryze

"Let go of me you Imp bastards!" Aron cried out in anger and sadness, mere feet away from the body of a man he felt responsible for. One of the Stormtroopers gave him a quick backhanded slap to shut him up, and received a tear filled glare in return, but Aron quieted and closed his eyes, beginning to call upon the Force to summon his Lightsaber to his hand...until the voice boomed from above.

The metaled creature landed with a loud crash onto the concrete floor, kicking up debris and dust that blinded Aron momentarily, and he was unable to make out what had caused the crash, blinking and shaking his head to clear his vision, he turned and looked back to see, staring directly at him, were the cold lifeless eyes of a person he had heard about...

Aron blinked, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing, and his eyes went wide with fear as he observed the dull markings crossing the body, the red eyes, the cybernetics. His father, Rann, told him about a fight he had had recently. Against a metaled man, giant compared to him, strong...and cold. With the descriptions his father had given him, and...an overwhelming feeling in the force, and one of fear, Aron was sure of it. This was the...thing....his father had faced. And the continued gaze of the creature sent shivers down Aron's spine. All fight had left him as he was dragged away, his eyes locked on the creature in fear. Both of them....staring at eachother. Aron could feel his heartbeat in his ears, could feel the pit in his stomach deepen, and could feel the tremors like localized quakes across his body as he shivered in fear, although unblinking and unwavering in the crimson of his eyes as dull, robotic red ones stared back, analyzing him.

Aron was completely paralyzed in fear. Face to face with an actual agent of the Sith...

What am I doing here? Why did I come? I'm not ready for this. I'm going to get everyone killed. I can't..I can't move. I...

Aron felt his eyes begin to redden. The heavy emotions he was feeling beginning to reveal his Chiss heritage, as the whites of his eyes darkened, and blooded, turning the whole of the inside a nice, consistent Chiss red as Aron slowly began to cry, feeling useless...but finally shifted his eyes to the begging pleading faces of the civilians...the innocents...being brought to meet their doom.

He felt like a failure...and they brought up ten more.

Boom

He felt like a coward....and they brought up ten more.

Boom.

He felt like a child...and they brought up ten more.

Boom.

All throughout. Every time the order was given, Aron would silently plead. Beg for mercy for the people. Beg that he could do something, that someone would come and save them. And after every shot...every scream...every cry from families now irrevocably damaged...Aron knew.

No one was coming for these people. No one...but Aron. Aron was here. Aron watched, Aron did nothing as forty people were executed in front of him. Aron stood, frozen in fear of the sith who had never once taken his eyes off him, as people died.

Aron. Jedi. Hero.

"AAAAAAAGGHH!" Aron began screaming, his face reddened with sudden rage, his eyes fixed on the Sith ahead of him as he roared out in bestial fury. The Force exploded from him like a bomb underwater, blowing back the Stormtroopers holding Aron as he stumbled free and fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He caught his breath for a moment, and looked around. He saw that the Stormtroopers around him were beginning to turn, to see what the commotion was, and realized he didn't have any time. The secret was out now. Aron reached into the inside of his coat, and pulled out a sleek silver and black lightsaber, igniting it into a brilliant flash of Cyan light. Tears continued to fall from his face as he stared unblinking at the Metal monster that had frozen him.

Aron wasted no more time. With another yell, he charged forward, aiming his lightsaber right where the cold creatures heart would have been, if it indeed had one.

 

[Wedge Draav]

AT YOUR SERVICE.


Wedge's Ship.

Fighting: DIRTY SCUMMY SITH
Allies: Galactic Alliance Naval Forces l Revenant Squadron l Mandalorians? l Jedi l Jenn Kryze l Atin Tracinya​

Revenant Squadron: WEDGE DRAAV l OPEN TO ALL REV PILOTS + ALLIANCE ALLIES

<Hail, fighters of the Galactic Alliance! I am Jenn, Alor of Clan Kryze. My warriors and I have come to assist the people of Onderon in their hour of need - but for us to do so, we must reach the surface unscathed. I humbly beseech you to send some of your starfighters to assist in this task, that we may reach Iziz unscathed and aid in the defense.>

There was a brief, pregnant silence across the stars- across everything in the void, as the Mandalorians radio went unanswered in the fury of combat. But- the Mandalorians in the dropship could probably see him before he made his announcement- a cheeky bit, to say the least. Her commlink would chime in with a light snare, then a riff of a guitar- before Wedge's sleek black X-wing shrieked by their dropship. Interestingly enough, Wedge was wearing his oxygen mask in space, and a G-suit.

Wedge was planning to fight on the surface of the planet, not just in space.

He opened a commlink channel.

"This is Wedge Draav with Revenant Squadron. I have you loud and clear. Follow my lead. Appreciate the help."

Wedge was going to pretend that his last mission wasn't fighting the Mandalorians. That part wasn't important right now. Onderon was under attack, needed help, and all hands were welcome at the table. Besides, from what he knew about Mandalorians, they were about as cohesive as a sliced-up pie. Wedge pulled back on the throttle, and dove in- scouring two TIE fighters in the process that shrieked across space.

Sith pilots were dime-a-dozen, strength by numbers and big guns. Wedge was a dagger, a knife in the ribcage. He was fast, nimble- and had the skills and experience to back it up.

"Get to the surface as fast as you can... Your Majesty?"

Wedge wasn't sure how to address Clan leaders of Mandalorians. He just took a shot in the dark- he was quite busy with engaging TIE fighters that were not too happy to see a Revenant Squadron X-wing in the fight now.

 

[Khaostra Devoid]

Back In Black​

Post: 2
Location: Iziz, Onderon near the entrance to the city
Equipment: Red Midnight Duster | Red Sith Armor | Sith Mask | Grav Boots | CrushGaunts | x2 White lightsabers | Forearm Lanvorak | Wrist Laser | Variety of Explosives | RSKF-44 heavy blaster | X-21 shock glove
Tags: Atin Tracinya | Anna Carden

​

She managed to break through the crowd and into a small alleyway she placed her back against a wall. She could hear the clamoring and yells of the rioters in the crowds. She could hear the footsteps of soldiers and the barking of orders. She her shots being fired and screams war was here on Onderon. She looked around at her surroundings in the alley and then at the equipment she had on her. It was all there yet she still didn't know how the only thing she knew for sure is she had to get the hell out of here and figure out what the hell was going on.

As she tried to gather thoughts in a moment of reprieve, she looked up at the sky above. The lasers of distant battle could just barely be made out then what looked like a meteor shower began to form. Not meteors though drop ships this was about to become an even bigger hot bed real soon. Her eyes pained down slightly towards the eve of a roof about three stories up. She wasn't going to be able to move easily on the ground, the best approach would be to go up but that also opened you to snipers and turret fire.

She put her left foot up against the wall she had her back unto. "I hope I came back with all the tools." She said to herself as she took a deep breath and pushed off the wall and up. With he force adding her using inertia she bounce from one foot to other of the walls on the sides of the ally up to the roof. Now above the crowds and soldiers for the most part. Her eyes panned to the wall, there was no way she was going to make that jump to get over it and even if she did, she needed a ship to get off this rock.

She looked up again at the fireballs that were the drop ships descending from above. Then back to the wall, it couldn't be that hard, could it? "Worth a try I guess?" She said to herself sarcastically. Her hands reached up as her focus was set on one of the drop ships descending. Red Magickal energy began to form around Khaos's hands as she focused on the one drop ship. Her eyes under her helmet flared a bright orange enough to be visible through the mask that covered her face. Sweat ran down her face as she focused her energy on the drop ship to try and control its trajectory. Her aim the city wall to slam the ship into and make an opening. Her telekinetic power pulled and tugged at the drop ship to force it in the direction she wanted it to go. Khaos's eyes burned and flared like an uncontrollable sulfuric fire as she continued to focus using every ounce of strength the witch had.

 

[Thomas Barran]

3rd Post

-A SECOND PRELUDE TO TERROR-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARLORD OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF MOTHER REBIRTH

Tags(Friend): Keilara Kala'myr Kurineth Cull Marlon Sularen Kroeger

Tags(Foe): Brak'rra 'Red Scar' Anakwor Farlorn Gress D'ran Vulpesen

AT THE PRECIPICE II: DISTANT SHOCKWAVES - PART 3

BYABBA VILLAGE, BADLANDS FRONTIER,
40-KM NORTH OF BATTLFRONT: IZIZ, ONDERON (901 ABY)

-THE WARCHIEF I-

'Ah, so you decided to show-face after all. The Bloodhound is waiting.'

Are these fellows on - drugs or something?
I see nothing, absolutely nothing behind their eyes.

Something's - off about this town.... I can feel it in my bones.
​

Having never met his adversaries before, this,"Bloodhound", nor his subordinates in person, there was no way of knowing exactly what kind of foe he was dealing with; but trivial matters like these never bothered Kiramar of the Wastes before, nor the warriors of his Beastrider clan, renowned already as the Badlands' unifiers. No easy feat for such a warlike, rival-hearted people before, but the skies were opening up with destruction, and in the spirit of,"Beggars can't be choosers.", it seemed like the only way their culture could survive under the circumstances.

'Right this way, Warchief.'

But their planet's occupiers didn't need to know anything about Kiramar's ascension of pragmatism, and in the slim chance this Bloodhound's forces joined his own - the Dark Empire would never get the chance to know anything about it either.

'Courtesies - before the fight.... Whatever, I don't mind a drink before a good bloodletting. Show me where this Bloodhound awaits.'

Empty cantinas appeared to be a preferred choice for Galactic folk and their need for quiet meeting-places, making no sense whatsoever to a man who preferred to meet in the open, with all eyes and all ears hanging on every word, regardless of whether such were devoted or opposed. But in light of the developing situation on the planet's surface, and in light of this once-in-a-lifetime offer, the Warchief could easily make his peace with the customs of foreign occupiers, as it wouldn't matter for long either way. Whatever was fated to occur within the desolate confines of Byabba's road-cut village, Kiramar knew it would decide the fate of the Beastriders' future, the very lifestyle that kept their bellies full for centuries, weighing on the Warchief like never before.

Just in time to see the doors giving way to reveal the bar within, the fading light of the evening shining through the windows - and the masked fiend he was hoping to fight.

'Greetings, Kiramar. I've heard much an' more about you already, but in any case - come grab a pew o'er here.'

What is that accent?
Never heard anyone talk like that before.

Wherever it's from, seems like a rough folk to call his own.
​

Grabbing a stool, the Warchief set it at arm's length away from the spot where the Bloodhound was sitting, but only then did he notice his opponent's subordinates standing non-combatively in the shadows. These were, by no means, mere underlings in the way Beastrider's viewed lesser-subordinates, but in seeing that their arms were folded to the last hood-wearing outline, Kiramar couldn't help but exhale the quietest sigh of relief he could muster in the moment. Saner heads were seeming to prevail, and yet, in this calming realisation, the one-eyed glare of the Warchief's adversary was enough to keep the tension at a near-unbearable peak. The Bloodhound knew, and despite lacking half his eyesight, (and despite the concerted efforts to keep the sigh of relief under wraps) clearly managed to catch the slow release in Kiramar's breathing before.

<"Thomas, this is Mercy. I'm sending you the data package I collected. As far as I'm concerned, the Galactic Alliance has an Embassy here in the city, I'm heading there to inflict as much damage as possible on their personnel.">

<"Heh! By all means, Mercy. It would appear Khan an' Matriarch alike are hittin' jackpots the-night.... Good luck o'er there. Bloodhound - out!">​

The Beastrider knew, and this too the foreigner could see with unnatural clarity for one with such difficulties, but in keeping to the general obstinance of Onderon's peoples - Kiramar held firm in commitment to his own part in the greatest of gambits.

'So, Bloodhound.... Are we clashing swords or not? As I would be callous not to mention the only thing that swayed me to attend was,"Winner takes all", and I know I'm quoting my adversary directly.'

Scoffing with irreverent disdain beneath his golden-skull mask, Kiramar's opponent-to-be was seemingly quick to wave off his eagerness as some meaningless need for haste, but in the quiet, calm moment he finally responded,'We'll get to that, rest assured.... But for now, I think I'd rather jus' sit an' enjoy the sunset, enjoy a conversation with another nomad, and in that conversation - I'd like to learn a little more about the man I'm going to kill tonight.', it would become quite clear that the Warchief was dealing with an entirely different animal than that which he expected from the Dark Empire. Yet from there the floodgates of revelation would only remain open on Kiramar's mind, especially when he looked on the fine, golden finish of the mask once more, and the golden-skull fascinations would become but one of the many falling dominoes after that.

'Ohohohoho! For that, I'll be taking that eyeball with my bare hands - I want you blind for your last moments now.'

First, Thomas would wheeze in appreciation of the brazen, courageous heart that drove such a man to make such a response, but then Kiramar's own outburst would join that of the Bloodhound, and not a second after his adversary's laughter found it's echoes in the room. Creating a strange moment of mutuality for the guards to witness, and in their silent wisdom saw nothing funny in the rising tensions between opponents - electing instead to watch without so much as a reactive, derisive snort to be heard from their places in the shadows.

'Oh, my.... Kiramar, I think you would be wiser with your words if you knew what sort o' man I've been. But with that being said - I commend it all the same.... So let us talk, let us learn the blood we intend to spill.'

So help me, Ancestors.... My patience is waning.
This foreigner is only making it worse for himself.

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: Onderon
Objective: Evacuate the embassy
Tags: Keilara Kala'myr
Set not long before his disappearance

The fall of Onderon's capital city was quick and decisive like a lightning bolt striking through the sky. They were quite helpless compared to the superior fire of their attackers, who had forced them to lower their weapons in the hopes of making it an easy surrender. However, some were not going to go down so easily in the shadow that now consumed them. Pockets of resistance were causing havoc for the newcomers, especially those who were close to the embassy.

Silas had managed to arrive only a few hours after the start of the invasion when the fighting was at its most fierce. The troops stationed inside the embassy had managed to hold off anyone smart enough to try and enter, but it was clear things were only going to heat up if they didn't get off the planet with all the data they needed. This led to why the knight was here, to assist the troopers when possible and help them get off this planet alive with the precious cargo.

Thankfully, most of it had been transferred to a small chip after a short time of waiting. It was just a matter of getting out of the city which was the problem.

"Are command not able to provide us a ship to get out of here?" the captain said to the knight as they watched over the courtyard from the main gate "Negative, We can't risk getting a ship down here when most of the city is under control" Silas replied, his eyes looking a short distance away to the dozens of civilians who were panicking outside "I'm afraid we will have to navigate our way through the city without being noticed by any of the opposition. It's a small miracle the embassy hasn't faced a larger attacking force"

However, just as he had said that sound of blaster fire erupted down the road. Screams echoed off the walls as a crowd of people came running past the gates of the Embassy in front of them. Looking to the captain, Silas motioned for him to get his troops ready "I sense our time here has ended. Make sure your men have checked anything before we move out" he ordered before turning around just in time to see a civilian get blasted to the floor by a powerful shot to his back.

His eyes glared to the buildings above as he quickly ran to the gate, his restless eyes witnessed another brutality in the form of a bigger woman getting shot down only a few feet away. A sniper was mowing down innocent bystanders with a complete disregard for life and sense. Before they even thought about getting out of here this sniper needed to be stopped.

<"Once you're outside, stay low and watch the buildings. If you see anything when I run out there, rain fire on it">

Taking one last deep breath, Silas ignited his lightsaber and slammed the button to open the gate. Silas rushed out with a burst of speed toward a pair of concrete barriers and dived for safety, hopefully avoiding any shots the sniper may shoot his way.
​

 

[Minister Janus Vipsanius]

​

Amidst the dangers of the Demon Moon of Dxun, situated at the base of the foreboding dark hedge, Janus stood. Surrounded by his acolytes, members of the Church of the Dark Side, the Minister waited patiently. Cultists, heathens, wicked worshipers of Sith doctrine, these crimson robed devils were the faithful of the Sith'ari, their hooded cloaks billowing in the eerie wind as they stood vigilant in the approach of the Twilight Fist. The ancient markings etched into the stones seemed to pulse with malevolent energy as they awaited the arrival of their soon-to-be captive, the esteemed Jedi Master Romi Jade.

Janus, his eyes gleaming with anticipation, nodded to the hooded cultists from the Twilight Fist as they approached, their footsteps echoing ominously against the cold stone floor. "Welcome, esteemed hunters," he greeted in a voice laced with sinister undertones. "It is a pleasure to see you once more."

Romi Jade , blindfolded and defiant, stood before them. Janus approached her with a wicked smile, relishing the opportunity to subdue such a potent symbol of the Jedi Order. "Ah, Master Jade," he purred, his tone dripping with mockery. "How delightful to have you in our custody at last." Turning to Romi's 'hosts', Janus initiated the transfer of the prisoner with a subtle gesture, his hands tingling with anticipation. "You have fulfilled your end of the bargain," he acknowledged, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Rest assured, you shall receive what you require."

As the exchange began underway, Janus's acolytes would waste little time in escorting their captive away, leaving behind the ominous whispers of the dark side stone hedge for the larger beskar built, Tomb of Freedon Nadd, proper.

The Dark Minister twisted the knife verbally one last time before she was moved, "HE is expecting you."

​

 

[Dagge Krudar]

175th Chandrila Naval Task Force​

Battlegroup Kenobi​

Triumph Class A-601 Main Battlecruiser ANS Whirlwind ANS Liberty's Array ANS Montorr ANS Kellin ANS Colls ANS Sinbad​

Declaration Class D-100 Starfighter Cruiser ANS Blotus ANS Mollo II ANS Greylock II ANS Furlow III​

Nebulon L2 - Class Escort Frigate ANS Selziro | ANS Guose​

Blissex-class Assault Frigate Mk III ANS Jumbo | ANS Prema​

Madine Class Patrol Frigate ANS Locket ANS Monsoon ANS Addle ANS Fiery​

Fleet Starfighter Cores F-29 Fortress Bomber E-Wing Multi-Role Starfighter LRS-B W-Wing Heavy Strike Bomber RZ-5 Crynyd-series A-wing Interceptor​

​

In the command bridge of the ANS Whirlwind, the tension was palpable as the soft beep of a transmission cut through the silence. Fingers clicked and clacked on monitors and sub-stations, creating a steady rhythm.

Commodore Ideon's gaze shifted towards the open channel where the transmission was coming from, revealing a ship identifying itself as the Ablution of the Void Irregular Fleet. Despite the static video feed, an uneasy feeling settled among the crew. Reports from Coruscant mentioned that the Ablution was once associated with the Brotherhood of the Maw, a fact that had been observed by the Alliance Fleet in the past.

"Commodore Sir, we are picking up strange anomalies inside the planetary boundary." Lieutenant Maran leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper, as she urgently conveyed the gravity of the situation to the Commodore.

The Senior Command Staff engaged in a short but intense debate as they faced a situation they had never encountered before. The 175th Naval Task Force had never undergone training to protect against the mystical powers of the force or even an entity of such unparalleled strength.

Some members of the staff suggested retreating and leaving the system to protect the lives of their fellow comrades on each vessel within the fleet. The Commodore understood and respected this viewpoint. However, there was another perspective to consider. If they were to retreat, it could potentially shake the confidence of the Alliance citizens in their war effort, leading to a decline in morale across all systems within their territory.

"Other Commanders would no doubt accept your ominous warning, Ablution. But I will stand my ground." Ideon stated firmly ( Onrai ) - having bore witness to the harrowing atrocities of war since his youth and the many horrors of the Second Great Hyperspace War while leading naval operations in the Alliance High Command Headquarters on Coruscant.

It was simply undeniable that his final day would eventually arrive in service of the Starbird. As the communication line was cut, he exchanged a brief yet compassionate gaze with every member of his crew, from the lowliest of solider to the highest-ranking officer. Each brave soul had willingly enlisted under his command, fully aware of the immense dangers that lay ahead in their pursuit to challenge the uncharted territories of the unknown.

"What is the update on our starfighter and bomber strategy. Is the Imperial Remnant moving as predicted?" An inquiry was given to the Lieutenant as the Naval Task Force began to move into another defensive formation before they advanced to confront the Imperial Blockade. "Sir, tactical information from our fighter and bomber squadron on the field is that the Imperials have launched squadrons of their own to counter ours. Although so far they seem to center their blockade around a Torpedo Sphere." Lieutenant Maran replied - glancing over to the data provided by the communication officers. The information was less than pleasing to the Alliance Commodore as their entire plan moving forward was to use Space Denial tactics to force the Imperial Remnant into opening up a kink in their formation to counter their movements.

"Hmm...If the Enemy Commander wants us to launch an offensive then that means they are relucent to take firepower away from the blockade to challenge us directly. By that logic it would make sense for them to center around their Torpedo Sphere as its missile batteries will tear us to shreds then be finished by their turbo lasers." As Ideon observed the tactical screens before him, he began to uncover the cunning strategy employed by the Imperial Commander.

The Imperial Formation was strategically converging around a formidable torpedo sphere, a relic battle station crafted by the Galactic Empire. This ancient weapon was not only capable of obliterating planetary shields but also possessed the power to decimate an entire fleet of ships. The Imperial forces were cleverly luring the Alliance Fleet into a direct confrontation, aiming to deliver a devastating blow.

"Prepare for battle formation Alpha 303. Move our Battlecruisers to the forefront of our formation, set all weapon sectors to sub-sector 8 and 9 on the chart and move our frigates into their predetermined position to provide anti-starfighter array. We will need to protect our starfighter carriers until we reach the blockade."
As the Commodore's voice echoed through the air, the strategy swiftly shifted and evolved. The Senior Command Staff wasted no time in relaying the new orders to the entire fleet formation. It was a clever maneuver, as they pretended to take the bait and moved forward.

However, behind this facade, a completely different plan was in motion. The Battlecruisers cautiously advanced, stopping just within range of their turbo lasers to engage the enemy blockade. "Additionally - Lieutenant have our starfighter and bomber squadrons return back around the fleet to draw the TIE Fighters and Bombers within range of our batteries." A secondary order was issued but of no less importance to the overall plan as the Battlecruisers began firing their primary and secondary batteries towards the Imperial Formation.

Race Tolsen ​

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• Alliance Task Force is advancing very slowly towards the Imperial Blockade
• The Six Battlecruisers would advance towards the Imperial Blockade just enough to let their turbo lasers have range.
• Four Squadrons of E-Wing Multi-Role Starfighters and Two Squadrons of 5-29 Fortress Bombers would return to the Alliance Fleet to draw the enemy squadrons into the anti-starfighter systems.

 

[Joran Olan]

BRINGER OF LIGHT

Tags: Cairan Shannon

Joran saw the boot coming, but could not immediately stop it. His opponent had maneuvered him into such a position that he would have to either take the kick, or a decapitating blow from his lightsaber. He formed a layer of Force energy between himself and the comin blow, and braced himself. When the strike hit, Joran let it carry him back, hoping to throw his foe off balance by an overreaction to the attack. Joran threw himself into the defense, seeking to prolong the duel while he considered his next course of action.

When their blades locked together, Joran did not try and break the lock either, seeing it as a chance to regroup further. "I do not believe my story will end here," Joran said, shifting his feet slightly as he glanced up briefly. He saw and felt what his opponent was attempting to accomplish, and thought quickly of what he wanted to do. His foe might be willing to sacrifice himself, but Joran could not afford to do so. He had to win this battle, and all the next battles to stop the Knights of Ren from achieving their goal. His enemy only had to win once.

Rather than attempting to stop the threat above him, Joran directed his focus down. With a burst of Force energy, Joran collapsed the ground around his foe. Not enough to create an opening, but enough to stumble and wrong foot the man. In that same instant as his opponents balance was put into question, Joran broke the saber lock and pressed his offensive, committing heavily to Makashi to seize the advantage in the battle before his foe could use his more agile forms against Joran.

One advantage, Joran noticed, was that in his move to bring the roof of the tunnel down, his foe had created a minefield of obstructions that were constantly growing and becoming more problematic. For a agile and jumping duelist, falling rocks and uneven surfaces to land on were a nightmare, while the fluid, controlled Makashi form allowed Joran to weave through the chaos, his tight control of both body and blade driving him forward.

 

[Veylin Torque]

Objective 1
Wayward Children Privateering Company
Aboard the Dream Chaser​

"They're engaging, Sir. The GA is bringing their big guns forward!"

That's what Veylin had been waiting for. He stood up, leaning forward while gripping his console, "PUNCH IT!"

At once, the corvette came to life.

Corvettes were already faster and nimbler than larger ships like Frigates. But the Dream Chaser was in a class by itself, matching the speed of some starfighters. Its three main thrusters came to life with bright blue flame, and the vessel surged forward at impressive velocity.

The ship's pilot was deft on the controls, skirting them far and wide around the action that was unfolding, swinging them into a parabola that would break orbit at breakneck speed. The hull flared with the orange flame of re-entry as the shields strained to ablate the heat of the Dream Chaser stabbing violently into the stratosphere.

"I'm heading back to the cargo bay," Veylin announced, turning and walking with some difficulty against the thrust impulse of the ship, "If we don't die on the way down, I'll be joining the ground team in offloading our crates of arms."

"I'll get you there, Captain," Veqtor replied from the helm controls.

"I know you will, Veq. See you on the flip-side."

---

Cessair Ideon
Zark San Tekka
Valut Amanya
Atin Tracinya
Race Tolsen
Jonyna Si
Akhuul Sautra
Derix Tirall
Marlon Sularen
Ignacious Korvan
Kazian Blackwood
The Vulptex
Onrai

​

 

[Maestus]

Dxun
Surface
Valery Noble

Through the canopy above, faint light trickled in randomly. The thick tree cover lent a claustrophobic feel to the trekking Twi'lek. Fully in the thick of Dxun's jungles, she was very grateful for the ruggedness of her robes. Branches, leaves and critters of all kinds grabbed, pulled and harassed her on her journey to the tomb. She paid no attention to her would-be attention seekers. Merely pulled her body free, kicked whatever out of her way or silenced them via the Dark Side of the Force.

She'd made no attempt to subdue or conceal herself through the Force. Considering her location and the centuries of Dark Side absorption, picking her signature out from all the rest would require intense focus and concentration. If, however, someone did attempt, they would see her blazing Force presence. The aura of fire and flame engulfed her. She carried the typical marker's if the Sith. Rage, hate, passion. According to the state of galactic affairs now, those were the only qualifiers to declare oneself a Sith now. Gone were the days of advancing on your own merit. Progressing beyond the limitations of the galactic hierarchy. Limitations put in place by individuals with limited mental capacity. These days, if you were angry, just throw on some black robes and grab yourself a res Kyber and congratulations...You're a "Sith".

As that thought repeated itself, an audible hiss was released. Nearby, something rustled, just beyond her ability to distinguish for certain what had made the sound. She did pause, her natural curiosity rearing its little head. She veered her senses, both physical and through the Force, to study the direction of the noises. After a second or two, she stepped towards an overgrown mass of large, girthy trees and a tangled mass of bushes and other fauna. Crouched down and doing its abject best to stay unseen yet failing, was what appeared to be a very young Drexl. This one stood a hair over 3 meters tall and already its razor sharp teeth, though not nearly as long as a full grown Drezl's reach, were none the less lethal. Maestus watched the beast and it, in turn, regarded her equally. The Lethan reached out to the beast through the Force, and found herself grasping at nothing. Either the beast was incapable of feeling the Force, or it was so defensive towards it, breaching would take time. Time is what Maestus did not have at the moment. She knew she was not alone tonight. The Dark Empire was very thorough.

She gave the beast a most peculiar gesture. She bowed her head to it, just slightly. And turned to continue towards the tomb. The Drexl, for its part, was intrigued. Perhaps seeing a humanoid not attempt to kill it right off was something its species was unaccustomed to. The infant Drexl followed from a distance. Melding back into the forest silently.

A few more twists and turns, and the path directly to the tunnel lay before her. Her eyes followed the trail from where she stood, and continued to the very top of the tomb. Bodies were silhouetted before her. Too far to discern the identities just yet. It was enough that she was aware of their presence.

Just as she was about to continue, something began pricking at the edges of her senses. Her chin turned to one side as obsidian eyes rimmed with fire scanned the jungle that surrounded her. It wasn't a physical sound, such as boots crunching dead leaves. No, this was something visceral. Something more intimate. Powerful.

And then she became aware of what was irritating her senses. The Light was approaching. She couldn't pinpoint the direction, it was slowly wafting towards her area. She could feel the strength within the Light as it ventured closer. She allowed a moment or two of deliberation. Engage the Light now, and perhaps not accomplish her goal. At this thought, her gaze shifted back to the Tomb ahead. Were she to pursue this course, she would take risks that she wasn't prepared to take. Given the strength if the Light, taking unnecessary risks seemed highly counter-productive.

A decision made, she continued on towards the Tomb. While her physical form was focused on her journey, she stretched out with the Force and began searching for Valery Noble in earnest.​

 

[Onrai]

Cessair Ideon
Orbit

The Ablution did not respond at all to the Chandrilan response, but the dimensional anomalies grew fiercer and more torpid until the very fabric of time and space in the immediate proximity of the battleship was split, a pair of great multi-kilometer gashes allowing the essence of a realm not at all like realspace a means of entry into the void. Through one of the tears emerged a swarm of two dozen gargantuan colossus wasps, each a kilometer in length. The gargantuan spacefaring insects were particularly hungry, as would be expected of a wasp in another dimension.

Also as was expected, they immediately homed in on the high concentration of valuable minerals and metals within the ships of the Chandrilan 175th, piercing mandibles clicking as the swarm began to rapidly close the distance with the fleet. In particular, they had begun to home in on the Whirlwind itself courtesy of the signals it had sent, which they had detected through the dimensional gate.

Soon it would be time for them to feast. But they were not the only life within the torpid dimension that was unleashed against the enemy forces.

From the other tear in reality, tentacles slowly poked through. Soon a sight most horrifying oozed and slithered through the interdimensional crevice, revealing a multikilometer amorphous abomination whose very presence in reality was repugnant to it. The creature was a space grazer, likely one of the last of its kind, and it began to travel towards the Chandrilans, trailing somewhat behind rapid pace of the swarm of wasps. Its appendages undulated beneath it like some sort of astral jellyfish, waiting to get themselves wrapped around a vessel they could tear asunder once more.

The Ablution opened up one more transmission it sent to the Whirlwind. This time there was in fact an image associated - a shadowed, hateful entity who nevertheless seemed to regret what had happened.

"I tried to warn you."

Fleet:
1x The Ablution
24x Colossus wasp (1km)
1x Space grazer (5km)

 

[Liorra]

Liorra matched Ren swing for swing, responding with agility even as the malevolent aura of his dark-sided blade intensified. Her Jedi finesse compensated for the absence of raw strength, attuned to the madness that fueled his every move. Embracing the teachings of her godmothers Romi Jade and Marakai Al'Orren, and her godfather Coren Starchaser , she clung to the light amidst the clash of his orange blade against her beskad. The expressions behind her helmet remained concealed, focused solely on the intense duel.

She identified the stoic form of Djem So in Ren's movements, realizing he possessed greater strength than anticipated. Liorra acknowledged the challenge but refused to let doubt affect her actions. Ren exerted force to push her back, each step a calculated effort, and she countered as best she could. Despite her efforts, his superior strength threatened to overpower her.

Recognizing the need for an alternative strategy, Liorra, beneath her helmet's t-shaped visor, examined the cracks in the stone. As Ren continued his assault, she pondered her next move, knowing that relying on her Force abilities might be her only recourse.

Caught off guard by Ren's words and sudden grappling at her vambrace, Liorra found herself flung deep into the tunnels. Focusing on the Force, her beskad at her back and arms crossed over her chest, she closed her eyes. Through the Force, she arrested her trajectory, then opened her eyes, a pure white glow briefly emanating from them. Drawing the rocks towards herself, she launched out of the tunnels with precision, rocks and stones in pursuit, aiming directly for Ren. If he sought access to the tomb below so desperately, perhaps he could become part of the tomb itself.

Engaging: Detritus Ren
Opponents: Cairan Shannon
Allies: Joran Olan ​

 

[Kroeger]

D R E A D N O U G H T
IRON LEGION
2nd SQUADRON, 34th ARMORED ASSAULT REGIMENT
'FEAR IMPERATOR, DREADNOUGHT!'
DARK EMPIRE - Marlon Sularen
ALLIANCE - Gress D'ran

ETERNAL WAR
​

Things were not progressing well. He'd lost a platoons worth of repulsor tanks, the loss of gold's platoon leader forcing it to consolidate with red platoon as Arminius continued to manage the fight from the front. The infantry fight was holding well enough, keeping the Alliance's advance grounded to a halt as two Cataphrachts could pick away at their advance with the rest honed in on heavier armor. The mortars and artillery batteries were back up and they needed to double tap on the most engaging threats before reeling their meager air support in for another run.

This was hardly the height of the New Order. They didn't hold the doctrine over overwhelming firepower or three, maybe even five to one numbers superiority that destined their fate in the select battles they'd elect to delve into. No, they were outmatched. A company of repulsor MBTs having to deal with an element of greater strength and heavier vehicles with lesser support. A far cry from the megalithic war machine that conquered the Outer Rim a generation's past.

With the Sphinx painted on his target selector again, he digitally sent the mission back up through to the gunline which, now in their new position, laid the guns on target, indexed the requested armor piercing drivers before sending forth a point target battery four on the two Sphinxes, the high angle hell of supercharged armor piercing projectile cracking through the atmosphere with a supersonic BOOM as several rounds made purchase in the super heavy walkers with others near missing them into the earth around them, kicking up thick clouds of dust and debris.

All the while, Painhammer, the mortar platoon was rung up again, this time setting the linear target of their initial smoke mission up and into the formation of advancing Alliance infantry, indexing airburst munitions on their mission, the mass driving clusters from the mortars exploded with hellish fury just above their heads. The tank commanders remained disciplined, buttoned still in their hatches as constant spalling, shrapnel and plasma bursts prevented any sane attempt to get a better view of the battle surrounding them.

They couldn't sustain the fight with his initial baring much longer. Kroeger smashed a metallic fist into the panel holding his control stick. A chrome dent appeared in the material as he grasped ahold of it to get a view of the Sphinx before soon enough, the Maulers rounded back for another run.

A cluster of fiery, crimson countermeasures burst out from the pair of fighters and their escorts which broke off in alternating pairs to strafe the Sphinxes with concentrated laser cannon fire on the leg joints before finishing off the run with two groups of proton torpedoes in the same spot.

"Rifle! Rifle!" Dagger leader sounded off with greater urgency and adrenaline dogging his tone as he sent off another group of concussion missiles before the twin-linked SHAC-60s ripped off another long, gut tightening burst of kinetic hell into the heavy walker. One of them broke off, evaccing from its run successfully as another caught a devastating blast in one of its ion engines, its right solar array snapping off with a tumble into the war broken earth before it sputtered uncontrollably into the ground with a violent explosion of its remaining ordinance.

"Dreadnought this is Red leader in defilade...slant one, slant three, slant two. Amber status, bounding back to support by fire position." A brief status of one of his maneuver elements. A grim one, hardly the kill count that would keep them in the fight. Arminius nodded, hardly a response that Red Leader could get any tangible indication.

"If only I'd known the fucking Alliance would come out here...they couldn't hold their damn own on Ziost...or any where for that matter...and here they appear. None of this matters to them, its all headlines on the fucking holonet, hearts and minds shit." He said, a low growl leaving him through gritted teeth as he tapped the control panel, ringing up his headquarters element through the net.

"Demon this is Dreadnought...requesting Warlock at phase line Mynock. How copy?" He said over the net.

"Copy Dreadnought, they're out. ETA three minutes." An air assault squadron held in reserve. They'd been doing a large part in the bandit fighting activities of the Onderon countryside for Iron, acting mainly as a catalyst for Fire Force operations in tandem with mechanized infantry and lightly armored vehicles. Now they were needed to tangle with a much larger foe.

They arrived with a heavier, lower note of a shriek much like their faster moving Twin Ion Engine counterparts. The squadron of eight arrived with a harrowing vector, the first four jetting ahead of the latter to fire off their pods of mag pulse warheads toward the unmissible profile of the Sphinx walkers before setting down low, nap-of-the-earth to deliver their payload of stormtroopers. They repelled down with a practiced quickness into the ranks of already bogged down troopers on the ground before being followed up by the metallic thud of heavy support battle droids, eventually surging off with a reversal heading from its repulsor lifts to provide close air support to its air assault infantry.

The next four flowed in with the cover of the mag-pulse effects, emptying their own pods of disruptor torpedoes into the walkers all the same before mirroring the deployment of the previous group.

Their dismounted movement was freshly bolstered and with that, Arminius would press the advantage of his armored flank, pound the hammer into the anvil.

"Driver up! Your gun! Keep giving them hell!" He barked out with some vitriol as his tanks pulled up to the berm, delivering burst after burst of punishing mass driver fire unto the walkers.

 

[Anakwor Farlorn]

Farlorn's Forlorn
Chapter Thirty-Four: Lost Homes
Part Two
​

Location: Hill 167, Onderonian countryside
Tags: Vulpesen , B1-173 "Omar" , Joseph Torson , Brak'rra 'Red Scar' , Mahsa Ayhan
Objective: Annihilate the enemy convoy. No Mercy.

Farlorn didn’t turn to face the droid as he looked down the ridgeline. Yet it is somewhat of a comfort to be in the presence of a B1-series Battle Droid once more, even if it belonged to the wrong Confederacy. He preferred flesh and blood but oil and durasteel worked just fine.

“The plan is to make a lot of noise to draw away Imperial elements from Iziz to take pressure off the partisan forces and Alliance elements moving into it. We give them a choice, fight us or have their supply lines strangled. We hit this convoy hard and fast. Twenty minutes maximum in and out. We take vital personnel captive if possible, and terminate the rest. I don’t have the resources to keep any large amount of prisoners.” he told B1-173 "Omar" .

The Imperial convoy trundled further and further down the road. Farlorn swore under his breath as he peered through his micro-binocs. Just as expected the convoy was heading back down the road, though it appeared they had been reinforced with heavy combat vehicles since he had last seen them.

Farlorn chewed absently at his thumb. Despite the Ranger’s veterancy and skill, there was still some room for error. Maybe the Ranger-Pioneers had left some trace of the explosives that the vanguard vehicles could spot with sensors. Maybe the buried wire that connected the detonator had been cut somewhere along the line. Maybe they had underestimated the explosive needed and it would barely scratch the Imperial vehicles.

His worries were swept away when the front two armored vehicles were engulfed in flame and the Imperials began to dismount. But they weren’t firing at his men.

“What the-” Farlorn swept his Micro-binocs to see Imperial blaster bolts and grenades launching towards a dust cloud in the distance. He caught the sight of Dalgo mounts, the flash of spears, and a lightsaber.

“Beast-Riders? I thought they weren’t in this sector. By the Viceroy, they’ll be slaughtered before they even reach the convoy!” his Comms-Officer exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter. We move as planned. Hopefully, we can help draw fire.”

Farlorn rose from his foxhole and unsheathed his Vibrosword. It hummed loudly as he thumbed it into full drive, feeling it purr like a content pet in his fist. He pointed his blade towards the Imperial convoy.

“IN THE NAME OF THE CONFEDERACY,” He bellowed “OPEN FIRE!”

All at once, the Carian First and Only Ranger Regiment let the Galaxy once more be the audience to the song of their guns. The ridge line above the convoy came alive with the barrel flash of three hundred Rangers that sent a deluge of firepower down upon the Imperials.

Markus’ Company of Marksmen laid down a withering hail of sniper fire on the convoy. Despite taking cover, the dismounted Imperials were picked off one after the other. Whenever they encountered body armor heavy enough to require multiple shots from their BCR-X10 Sniper Rifle they aimed for the weak points in the joints and gorgets. However, the Brutetroopers themselves were harder to get shots on due to the dismounts providing concealment.

The crackle of blaster fire rose to staccato cacophony broken only by the hot wet crump of detonations from Anti-Tank Rangers wielding E-60R missile launchers. Their first few impacts had little effect on the MT-BTR’s heavy armor and shielding.

Anti-Tanker Uzum swore as he witnessed his rocket harmlessly bounce off the flank of his target before ducking down into his foxhole to avoid the whizzing fire of its Mass-Driver autocannons. His assistant loader Junp wasn’t so lucky as her corpse dropped to the floor, everything above her hips now ruined flesh.

Crawling on his belly Uzum quickly moved to a pre-prepared secondary fire position. Mounting the launcher on a mound of dirt, he aimed through the wire iron sights. He cursed the supply chain issues that had taken away the spare parts needed to repair the rocket’s targeting pod.

The wire sights kept jumping up and down.

“Come on… come on…” he muttered as he could see the turret of the MT-BTR now turning towards him.

The wire sights settled.

“Gotcha.”

He opened his mouth to help with the discomfort of the pressure punch. Uzum’s launcher barked out a hot backwash of flame and spat a rocket into the MT-BTR tracks. With a gout of flame, the transport’s wheels became molten scrap. Seconds later a trio of rockets struck the rear turret and tore it clean off.

“Don’t try hitting it center mass!” Uzum thumbed his comms, “Hit the bastards in the propulsion and weapons. Leave-taking them out to Fennstrum’s bunch.”

Quickly, the fire of the Anti-Tank Rangers shifted to focus on crippling the transports instead of outright elimination. The vehicles at the rear of the formation took the brunt of the Ranger's fire in an attempt to box them in. Dozens of missiles struck the stranded vehicles from nearly all directions. Their dumb missiles were unaffected by the Missile Deactivation Transmitter and Carian battle experience allowed them to batter the weak points with uncanny precision.

“Omega Force, now!” Farlorn yelled into the horn of his Communication Officer’s Comlink booster pack.

Having used their honed stealth skills, camo-capes, and discipline to lay utterly still under the withering exchange for fire, four hundred Rangers emerged from hidden holes and vegetation barely fifty meters from the convoy perimeter.

They all had bayonets fixed.

There was no cover, too close for ranged fighting, and no room for flanking moves. Face to face, hand to hand, the way wars used to be fought when humanity had barely left Coruscant’s primordial soup. With a howling battle cry, Caria’s lost sons and daughters charged towards the Imperial Convoy firing.

Major Fennstrum himself was near the front of the formation, his rotary grenade launcher thumping shells right into the midst of the dismounted Imperials to cover the charge. “Forward! Forward! In the memory of Caria, take them!”

Ranger-Pioneers raced forward to hurl magnetic detonation packs against the sides of the Imperial vehicles.

Imperial APC fire sliced mercilessly into the charging Carian ranks. Rangers who had fought for three decades and made it this far screamed and yelped as automatic grenade launchers and autocannons cut down dozens. The air was suddenly ripe with the smell of cooked blood and bone. Suddenly volleys of rockets shrieked from the ridgeline to distract and suppress the APCs.

The lines struck with a visceral, crunching impact of bodies, helmets, and armor. The sounds of shooting, shouting, and stabbing became frenetic. The Rangers fought with elegant savagery in the close quarters between the Imperial vehicles. With rifle-butt and bayonet, they killed these so-called Brutetroopers with brutality.

This slaughter? This destruction? It was nothing compared to what they had seen during their service with the Confederacy.

“Say hello to Mister Yellow!” Flame-trooper Iwan cackled as he triggered their flamethrower and sent searing plumes of fire down the slope into the Imperial troops at near point-blank range. At his side, other Flame-troopers began to open up, soaking sections of the convoy in flaming napalm.

Fennstrum was in the thick of it. The Rangers were ruthless but he was something else as he fought through the melee. His blood was cold, and his pulse barely elevated. For the Major, there was no more honor and courage in war. Fighting was no longer about any lofty goals or ideals. Fighting had simply become a mechanical absolute. Combat’s purpose had been reduced to a point where it was simply a way to ensure he was still alive when everything around him was dead.

He used everything, every opening, every advantage. He kicked, stabbed, crushed, stamped, bit, and gouged at the Imperials he came across. He plunged his bayonet into backs and sides and crotches, he executed wounded Imperials or butchered those who had turned to run.

He had long stopped fearing death. He had seen too much of it for it to faze him anymore. Instead, death was now simply a tool.

A tool that he would employ generously.

Major Vidar Fennstrum
​

Spoiler: OOC

Summary: The Carian Rangers detonate explosives at the front of the convoy. Farlorn decides to continue the attack despite the appearance of Brak'rra 'Red Scar' @masha, Ayhan , so he can cover them. Anti-Tank Rangers target the weak points of the Imperial vehicles at the pack and rear before 400 Rangers leap out from concealment at point-blank range to execute a bayonet charge against the Imperial convoy.

 

[Gress D'ran]

The Hellstompers

34th Walker Battalion, 1st GADF Army Divsion

Operation Sunrise

Objective: Hit back at the Imps

Engaging: Kroeger

​

The crack of artillery hitting the hull. The sound of a leg, massive in size, falling loose. It all happened so fast.

"...sir."

"Status report."

"We've got fractures on-"

"Are we still viable?"

"Well we've lost the forward port leg"

"Are we still viable?"

"...yessir."

"Then we continue. Drop the leg, and get every bit of power in this walker and the one next to us into the shields. I want port and starboard guns firing on those tanks. Prioritize field repairs, main guns are offline for the time being. No use designating power to them." The man took a drag, and assessed the situation. A port turbolaser battery had been taken offline. They'd lost a leg, and yet they still stood, still moved. Thank whatever god there was for Si Tech hardware. "Where are the falcons?"

"Back online sir."

"Then counterbattery."

"Yessir!"

From miles out, another round of 36 shots rang out, coordinated with the Raven droids still hovering high above, watching the enemy movements, aimed for the artillery battalion that had just rang their bell. Gress watched the plasma sail overhead, and splash just out of direct sight, even if the Ravens could see it.

"Have our snipers start picking off those troops that just landed. Nothing's gonna stop anti-material rifles. And have the rear turbolasers start engaging them."

"Yes-sir!"

The crack of hidden rifles rang through the air as the air assault troops were engaged, as well as rear batteries of the twin Sphinxes, lighting up the landing zone with heavy plasma bolts.

Meanwhile, the Wildcats were encroaching on the enemy position, getting within less than a football field away from the defensive line of the Cataphracts. One, Storm 3, opened fire with a missile pod on Kroeger 's tank, before firing right at the turret right with it's composite laser, while mortars from the Thundercats continued to rain.

The infantry had dug in, having lost a Cougar already, now using it as a forward bunker to hide behind. An almost unending stream of grenade barrages fired on the enemy positions, HE and EMPs raining like snow. Heavy Particle bolts seemed to never end, as SAW Operators set up a suppressive barrage of fire, while the grunts advanced forward. It was slow, but they were getting through. The remaining four cougars engaged the two Cataphrats, using TOW missiles to fire on the tanks, while their top turret blaster cannons assisted in the infantry assault.

Gress took a moment to breath. His biggest worry was another CAS run. If he could just break through the front line, the Thundercats could deal with the rest without much worry. "Phones, call in air support. We need to clear those skies up."

"Yes-sir! Calling Revenant Squadron Wedge Draav ! This is Hellstomper-Bravo of the 34th Walker, we're in need of air superiority. Times 6 Incerceptors in the air, along with times 1 CAS bomber, priority target. Repeat! This is Hellstomper-Bravo in need of Air Support! Coordinates Will Follow!"

 

[Kurineth Cull]

LOCATION: Onderon
EQUIPMENT: Grave Bastion, Shades Refuge
WEAPONS: Souls Reflection, Phase-knife
MOUNT: Gore Wasp
LEADING: Skitterwing Horde
FRIENDLY TAGS: Thomas Barran Joseph Torson
ENEMY TAGS: Vulpesen | B1-173 "Omar" | Brak'rra 'Red Scar' | Ayhan

A few would feel their arrival before ever seeing any sight of the growing numbers of Skitterwings. The buzzing wings of the Gore Wasp washed out by the concussive explosions bouncing back and forth off the canyon walls as the hollering and shouting of raised voices continued the uproar of chaos and the sounds of violence.

It had only helped Kurineth navigate the tempted and hungry children behind her.

She'd been made to use the force a handful of times to rip away a prey they had stumbled across, carrying them just in front of the horde as an inciting treat before the landscape had made it harder and harder to climb. The rolling hills and trees giving way to craggy jumps that had been made easily when the Skitterwings finally relented and used their limited flight abilities.

Leading to a veritable feast to be had as the Gore Wasp rose into the air above the sudden charge of men with weapons drawn. The sight of the convoy in shambles producing a sharp tsk from the girl.

There were no commanding words from the woman as she looked down at the mix of friend and foe alike. If her allies were intelligent to any degree, they would return to their cover. Return to the hardened hides of their vehicles to wait out the coming storm. If they weren't able, they would perish. And she hoped it would be quickly for their own sake. The first of her swarm began to arrive, the scent of blood and meat on the air as they happily screamed and squeaked from the ridgetop.

A slowly growing swarm arrived, innumerable upon first inspection as Kurineth watched on for a moment and could only grin. Any death would serve to push them forward. Trimming the fat, or simply preparing the meal for the Dark Empire as needed. She was but an instrument to further the war machine onward.

And she reveled the in the feelings of hatred and death.

The Gore Wasp turned sideway as she pulled on the reins, sling-shotting her around it's small size as her blade ignited and sizzled. Aiming for the core of the one's wielding the flame weapons with a cackling war cry. Wrapping the death and hatred that had so thoroughly steeped itself in the canyon around herself as a barrier in the force while making herself into a cannonball into the midst and slashing at the first one to come within range.

The Skitterwings began to come down into the canyon in search of anything they could feast upon. Their mandibles excitedly clacking and grabbing for anything as they swarmed upon any near enough to them.

Kurineth made use of everything around her. A body flung against their friend, a grenade held near too long before lobbing it. Ripping weapons from the hands wielding them only to use the force to hurl them into another. The lightsaber blade she wielded never seeming to stop in it's wide swung arcs. The Battlemind within the blade helping her to slide between the gouts of flame pressed towards her. Slicing the legs on of flamer from beneath them before hurling their body into their ally.

The aura of the dark side began to permeate everything around her now as she used the chaos of battle to fuel herself and her growing hunger.

"NONE SHALL FIND THE GRAVE! THE CHILDREN HUNGER! FLEE IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIVES!" The only words that weren't little more than howling cackles of joy as the deep violet blade with a black core sang through bodies.

Spoiler: Actions

-Kurineth Arrives to "Aid" the Imperial Convoy
-Skitterwing Horde has arrived behind her and are swarming everything(even the imperial convoy given enough time)

 

[B1-173 "Omar"]

Just with one swift motion, with the appearance of the enemy forces. The bait was taken, and all the sudden large amount of Imperial forces had appeared over the horizon, our forces found themselves having pressure applied onto them, defensive positions came under fire as the hillside trembled beneath the relentless barrage of enemy retaliatory fire, all the sudden, B1-173 found themselves startled on what to do. He remained within his dugout for a bit, aiming and returning fire towards the Imperial forces down below, however the unexpected turn of events lead B1-173 to retreat from his dugout, along with some others as the Imperial fire was becoming more overwhelming, bearing down against their fortifications. As B1-173 continued to run across the hillside, many screams of wounded soldiers were heard by the droid. Deciding to act out of his instinct to put himself in the line of duty to save these men, his brothers in arms. Even if they may hold resentment towards droids like himself, would altruistically run out to the wounded soldiers, and would pick them up, carrying them to cover despite the heavy enemy fire. So far, saving three men, however when the droid would go out for a fourth time, he would be propelled into the air via an explosion.

"Aaaaaaaaaargh!"

B1-173 eventually landed on the ground, although still in one piece, despite this however his blaster rifle was lost, regardless B1-173 remained resolute as he takes out his SE-14r sidearm and getting himself off the ground, looking to where the injured soldier was he was already recovered by another medic which put the droid's mind to rest. B1-173 would now run forward, ducking and weaving between craters as he sought out targets, as each step brought him closer to the heat of the battle, closer to the Imperial forces. As he continued to move he found himself being suppressed by the enemy forces furthermore which caused B1-173 to take immediate action and jump onto the ground beneath him, but the hill caused him to roll down for a little bit before be managed to gain his bearings, during this, more explosions and blaster bolts continued to hit all around the hillside, with him now only equipped with his SE-14r, a few thermal detonators and his detached vibrobayonet. He continued to crawl into a interstice within the hill, discovering a fallen soldier apart of the Separatist forces which recently joined forces with the Galactic Alliance to fight the Sith on Onderon, the soldier appeared to have been shot multiple times before falling. But B1-173 had no time to mourn the fallen, and quickly taken the blaster rifle from the fallen soldier.

Without hesitation, B1-173 opened fire, unleashing a hail of blaster bolts that sent the enemy troopers diving for cover. But even so as he continued to do so, B1-173 couldn't shake off the Imperial forces with ease, as he found himself fighting against the detachment of enemy troopers. His comrades were also maintaining their fire against the foe but it seemed that the Imperials were swarming in quicker than he anticipated, over the comms he heard his allies frantically shouting about the current situation as it seems Imperials were swarming in from all directions at once, to make matters worse, the Imperials had some armoured support which made the situation even difficult to contend with, as he thought of such. Yet again the droid found himself being heavily bombarded by the enemy guns. If he remained on the hill for any longer, him and his fellow compatriots would surely be dead, severely injured, or perhaps captured by the enemy, a fate potentially worse than death to suffer. However he did not want to let himself nor his fellow soldiers down, so B1-173 would yet again make haste, this time diverting the enemy fire towards him as he served as a distraction which would give time for his comrades to withdraw from their positions.

B1-173 would continue to divert the attention of the enemy, as he also maintained his base of fire by moving and firing, along with taking cover behind debris that littered the battlefield. B1-173 relentlessly pushed against a wall of fire and steel, but his efforts alone weren't enough to prevent the inevitable, the battle appeared unwinnable by the droid's standards as the Imperials bared down against him like a tidal wave. Noticing that his little resistance was becoming tiresome and fruitless, as Imperials were flooding in from all directions at once towards the hill. B1-173 would crawl through the battle scarred hillside once again avoiding enemy fire, but for how long? Soon enough. As B1-173 crawled up to yet a new vantage point, he found himself being shot in the back, a blaster bolt impacted his commlink booster pack, which did in fact save him for the briefest moment. He was about to ditch it as he withdrew, however he remembered the contents inside were important for his continuity, and as such he picked up the booster pack and quickly fled up the hill, still coming under intense fire. As he saw a friendly dugout as he rushed up, he was shot in the back once more...

However, he wasn't so lucky.

"Gaaaaaargh, aaaaaargh!"

With one swift motion, the age long battle droid was bought down like a ragdoll, collapsing from the shot which impacted his back. The droid laid there momentarily, but continued to crawl up to the dugout, the last sign of hope the droid had. Otherwise he might as well be as good as destroyed. As he climbed for several minutes straight, he was eventually spotted by his fellow soldiers, but they considered it too much of a risk to save a droid, something which wasn't organic. Something which was able to be replaced with ease, as many other organics only lived once, a droid such as himself can be repaired a thousand times over. Acknowledging this, B1-173 would roll over to his back, taking out his SE-14r blaster pistol, and awaiting for the Imperial forces to continue to mount their assault up the hill. Still determined to hold the hill, as long as possible. Even if it may seem to be a forlorn hope...

"Come and get me!"

Tags: Anakwor Farlorn Vulpesen Kurineth Cull Brak'rra 'Red Scar' Joseph Torson Ayhan Thomas Barran Mahsa

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Valut Amanya

Decades old memories of the First Order flashed before Master Zark's eyes while he bashed aside a charging stormtrooper's riot baton before skewering ivory plate in a jet of sparks. Half-forgotten martial instincts flowed from his lips and before anyone could challenge such unquestionable authority the old crusader was giving orders even as he drew most of the incoming blaster fire.

He pulled a paladin into cover only to watch with detached horror as the Force was pulled out of them. Spectral afterimages of their face twisted into an agonized scream lingered superimposed over hollow flesh. San Tekka let go of the lifeless husk.

"Jedi! This will be less painful for you if you surrender now."

"I don't take orders from droids."

Zark stared down the strange looking hunter killer. Another abomination of Sith alchemy no doubt. Caution urged him to fall back but there was no time. He needed to get to the palace and furthermore knew the surviving paladins would never abandon their queen. What they lacked in training each royal guard made up for with near fanatical devotion to the throne.

"Especially not ones programmed to lie so badly," he held the lightsaber over his head in a Djem So attack stance, "Now stand aside, goldenrod."

 

[Brak'rra 'Red Scar']

Objective 2: Tags

Allies: Ayhan Mahsa Anakwor Farlorn B1-173 "Omar"

Hostiles: Joseph Torson Kurineth Cull Thomas Barran


Under the unexpected counter-ambush, Brak'rra sought refuge within the hastily assembled bunker. Faced with the sudden onslaught, the Wookiee vented his frustration, cursing his contractor in his native tongue. Unslinging the bandolier encircling his torso, he extracted a smoke grenade from one of its pouches, biding his time for the opportune moment to throw it. He aimed to advance to a more secure position, affording him a better shooting angle.

Observing a temporary lull in blaster fire, Brak'rra seized the opportunity to deploy the smoke grenade. He waited a few seconds as the smoke thickened before vaulting over the wall of deadwood, strategically advancing from one cover to another. Utilizing the trees as concealment, he gradually closed in on a more advantageous position. Once repositioned, he would once again raise his heavy blaster, unleashing a barrage of bolts upon the Imperial ranks within range.

 

[Izah'zore]

Location: Space
Flagship: ANV Tython
Tag: Jenn Kryze

Izah stood in front of the viewscreen aboard the AVS Tython and looked out into the stars. The ship, as well has her Task Force, were positioned along the Alliance Border to protect it, in case the Sith dared venture beyond Onderon. From her position of relative safety, she could remain in contact with those assigned to the battle, and coordinate efforts to evacuate citizens, and supply her troops with assistance wherever needed.

Not all battles were fought purely at the frontlines.

"Captain?" one of her communications officers requested. "We have a transmission coming in."

"Patch it through," Izah replied.

The audio transmission from Jenn Kryze was played across speakers on the bridge, and Izah narrowed her eyes. The war with the Enclave had created a lot of distrust towards the Mandalorian people, but if they vouched to fight for Onderon, she would trust their word. The Kryze clan was a rather familiar one as well.

<This is Admiral Izah'zore,> the Twi'lek began. <Fighter escorts will be assigned until you reach the surface.>