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<"What happened to those reinforcements, Elijah?">
<"Apparently, someone gave the order to delay any reinforcements to the media station?">
<"On whose order?">
"An Imperial Knight by the name of Djonas Vile.">
That twitched his nerves, only slightly. He was unfamiliar with the Imperial Knight, yet it frustrated him this man would assume command and give orders as if he was on top of the hierarchy of power on Ord Thoden.
<"Well, we're not going to have some pseudo Jedi take command and give orders about, just because he can use the Force does not give him authority over me.">
He had enough of having Force Sensitive individuals with a sense of entitlement of giving orders and knowing what is best. Djorn had experienced that in the Sith Empire he was once served, and he wouldn't relive it in this New Order of Imperialism.
<"Override his command, I don't care what explanation he has for his motives. Send reinforcements to the station and resume monitoring the unauthorized shuttle. Let me know once it lands.">
Blade impacted duraplast, biting deeply into flesh and bone, and severing both without impediment. Each swipe of his blade laid low one of the fighting 501st, whose long storied history dated back hundreds of years to the fabled Clone Wars.
Some envisioned them as comparable to the legends of old, mythology writ real.
But, in the end, they died like any man.
Blood arced out, staining the polished floor crimson, as the Once-Emperor's blade continued on its grisly harvest. Efforts to constrain it fell short while the guns that sought to delay its inevitable advance grew silent. With each swing, a burst of vitalic energy rushed out from the afflicted soldier and into the rune-inscribed weapon. When the final soldier hit the floor, and the last echo of blaster fire faded into nothingness, all that remained around the two men were bodies; each one cruelly vivisected.
The weapon rushed back into Carnifex's waiting grip, his gloved fingers curling around the hilt. Tavlar wasted little time in drawing his own blade, rushing forward with determination reserved for the brave or the mad, and swinging with all of his might. Both weapons clashed with a spark of metal on metal, the two edges grinding against each other without either side giving ground; a stalemate.
Then Tavlar slammed his fist, bolstered by advanced repulsor technology, into Carnifex's midsection. The Sarassian iron, empowered by the Dark Side of the Force, held strong against the blow, the jolt delivered casting scintillating light across the glossy black metal. If Carnifex felt anything from the blow, he did not betray that he did. His scowl remained in place, lips curled down in an immutable glower as his eyes swiveled from Tavlar's fist and up to the visor of his enemy's helmet.
"Such resolve, make sure that flame burns bright." Carnifex extended his left arm, his right holding his sword firm against Tavlar's. He outstretched every finger, splaying them wide as dark energy crackled and pulsated down from his bicep, up through his forearm, and into the extended digits. That energy, first appearing as crackling electricity, suddenly lanced towards an invisible point a centimeter away from the middle of his outstretched hand's palm. "Marshal your armies, call forth the legions of the displaced and the disillusioned. Set your endless columns on their path forward, march across the worlds you have set in your sight, and burn all that stand in your way. Lay waste to the worlds of the enemies of life."
The energy coalescing in Carnifex's palm seemed to draw all light, artificial and natural, into itself, devouring it as voraciously as a starving man devours any morsel of sustenance. Then Carnifex angled that energy towards Tavlar's face, the stoic rictus grin of his helmet. "Csilla was the first, you know. Countless more will follow. Continue on your crusade, and feed me more death." That energy then lanced out in a tight beam, a stygian deluge that careened towards Tavlar's helmet with such tremendous force and energy that it would surely cause terrible damage, perhaps even fatal.
The move was swift - but not unforeseen; yet Maliphant didn't seem to do anything but watch her as she spun around, locking her leg around the staff in the hopes of twisting it off its angle. For the briefest of moments it would even work; but the consequences of her action were violent and quick. The armor peeled like wood in a storm, body suit reduced to ash - only for flesh to shred itself down to the bone. Instant, violent recourse for the counter, saved only by an oddity in who she faced.
The staff twisted before it could complete its damage - and broke free from both their grasps in a cloud of black ash that fell to the ground to intermix with the void stone dust. Blood trailed from the wound, some even splattering across Maliphant's otherwise alabster and flawless features - but his look of disdain was palpable behind those few flecks. The gaze he offered her was imposing from his standing position - and the frown spoke its own words.
"The cavalry would've made me bleed, not themselves.", he said scornfully, venom dripping from his lips.
Gently, he kneeled and looked over the wound - eyes dancing across it before meeting her gaze, in spite of likely screams, of fear, of natural reactions. He would offer her nothing now - from disgust to apathy in the blink of an eye. His monotonous tonality broke through the alarms;
"It seems that this 'spectacle to behold' need not do anything to break you, child. You've done much the same to yourself - ruined by the people you keep company with.", he said, a downcast of his gaze to her rifle would imply what he meant.
"I can admire courage, but I can't respect stupidity. The AI already made its connection, and you've lost half a leg in your attempt to stop me - and for that, I should put the imperial dog out of its misery. Yet, I will not."
"Fido won't get her bone, but I can break that collar around your neck if you simply ask it of me. Seek me out on Korriban, and perchance I will grace you with a fraction of the knowledge a Sith deserves to know."
With that, he'd stand once more, pull a small medical kit from one of his leg pockets - and toss it to her with no further interaction. He sighed heavy and turned to leave, walking from the room and its broken containment; back into the hallway, and away from the one now wounded and dying.
Hooting, ululating with delight in their own ethnocentric manner, rumbling with appreciation for the collective feat they'd achieved by sheer gambler's chance, Scott's rag-tag rabble of vehicle-rustling rogues had inadvertently collaborated with but a few small squads from the Dunwall Irregulars, pulling together to exact a stunning toll on the Sith-affiliated armour in close-pursuit. As the stolen-tank procession drove on unchallenged, Corporal Taylor would peel off and return the stolen property.... to Lockhart, whilst the two repulsorlift-tanks increased their lead on the Cataphract crew following close behind. Each and every man present for it, including those who'd covered their escape and those who'd pulled the glorious ambush behind them, all were ecstatic for the sheer magnitude of the success they'd achieved, and just as much for achieving it with what little resources the collaborating units had at their disposal.
'Scott to Cataphract One-Three! Good job, Sergeant Stewart. Can't ask for better support than that, honestly.... You can report to your Company-Commander now in any case, stay safe out there.'
As the comm-link closed between them, Stewart's tank-crew peeled off and drove south to have a word about which choke-point they should man next, leaving the two stolen repulsorlifts to drive towards the increasingly-well protected underground command-center. Everything had gone well in that ambush, and it had struck so well that Scott and Davidson were left praying it would go just as well in their next rustling-attempt; none could tell if there was a high-alert warning among the Sith's forces on the ground yet, as the comm-chatter for those giving chase may not have been open to other units or command without prior pre-programming on the comm-link units, but both Guardians understood that there had to be a greater challenge waiting for them along the way. Whether this challenge would be of a greater magnitude (in terms of vehicle-amount or reactionary-pressure) was any man's guess at that point, so the pensive state the tank-thieves had been left in left no question on what they were both preparing themselves for; something dangerous, something impossible, something glorious.
The Glow of Death XIV - The Tuaths' Game 2
Relaxing with their cigars and the contents of their hipflasks, chuckling as they appreciated the view together, Gowrie and his trusty Woad would see the last of the remnant light as the gazed on the lowest parts of the horizon on their drive all the way back to the entrance to the underground command-centre. The gloom would be cut down to size every once in a while, by distant explosions, air-to-ground and anti-air hostilities, and skyrises lighting up with reflective horror as they revealed wild battles for fire-supremacy below; and yet, like most things, all comes to an end one way or another, bringing back the gathering night-time shadow as quickly as it was stifled before. Their short drive would draw to a close once they'd cleared a few hostile districts uncontested, pulling up outside the sub-station and leaving the AFVs to their subordinates as they decided to walk on without them, with both Gowrie and Reed opting to bypass their opportunity to rest within the command-centre entirely.
'Don't need it, dae we? Besides, the Thistle's active an' nearby, might as well talk on the way.'
Lord Aron would begin to formulate plans on a large-scale series of fatal ambushes, hoping to incur serious damage against anyone who'd hypothetically dare to pursue the swoop-bikes into the inner-city districts, with Captain Reed constantly forcing him to make personal notes on his datapad throughout the process. All the issues they couldn't solve on foot would be solved by the time they'd reached their ACV, as the Thistle had all the devices they needed to coordinate properly with the other commanders. The last time Gowrie saw anyone coordinating as three-in-one, Barran was leading them against the Sith Empire's advanced-walker, and the effectiveness was frighteningly wondrous to behold at the time; if the Tuaths were to prevail in any way, the Kellas realized that cohesion and trust were to be established from the very moment they started working with the other commanders properly, making their return to the ACV a matter of urgency.
But something happened, something neither the Tuath nor the Woad ever expected would happen; in the two-kilometers they'd covered since dropping the AFVs off to their subordinates, (in an area they both thought was Tuath-territory) they'd found themselves in an area seemingly untouched by recent struggles, one that would yield a sound they'd both recognise as the first sound they'd hear from the Sith after deploying. It was rocket-fire, being launched from Sith-emblazoned MLVs nearby, and all happening very close to where they were walking, prompting Ginge to quietly quip,'Last time ah checked, ACVs did'nae shoot rockets.', as he led the Kellas to a toppled skyscraper with a dry chuckle. A rubble-mound would aid their attempt to scale it, and once they got onto the top of the sloping structure, further climbing would take them high enough to see exactly what they were dealing with.
'Aye, might no be the Thistle.... But a vehicle we'd be chuffed ti see up-close aw the same anyways! Belter, absolute belter of a find!'
"Kyramud Besh 6 to Kyramud 6. Contact. Incoming missile and incoming target. Beskar'gam and jetpack signatures positive," crackled the voice of Ukran Nihut'tyr over the comms. Shuklaar could see what he was talking about via the Manda interface in his HUD. Well, this was bound to happen sooner or shabla later. He wondered who'd it'd be. Would it by the Kyr'tsad finally rearing their ugly head, or someone else who'd signed up with the New Imperial shabuire thinking it the lesser of the two evils.
"Hold your position, I'm on my way. I'll deal with our new burc'ya,"he replied, before turning to Ragar. "Hold the control center. These shabuire must not life the lock down. If they want to get rid of us, make them raze the shabla building."He glanced at the indicator for his sidearm's ammunition as well as that of his other armor mounted weapon systems. He was out of Cretanr'ika-class plasma missiles, but given that he was expecting to engage a single target, he didn't concern himself with that.
"If he's kyr'tsad, then I'm hoping there's more of the shabuire. Don't want you to have all the fun," intoned Ragar. Shuklaar chuckled as he made his way to the service stairs they'd taken.
"Udesii. If it's the kyr'tsad, I'm sure there'll be more than a few dini'la di'kute to deal with,"he replied, Ragar stared at him, and then tossed his helmet from one side to the other in acquiescence. Shuklaar hastened his pace, storming out onto the floor where Ukran and his men were holding their positions, waiting for the floor to be rushed with hostile contact. One of the windows of the building had been blown in, bits of debris surrounding the egress point. it was only a matter of time now.
He and Ukran shared a glance before both warriors returned their attention to the situation in front of them. War had an unfortunate habit of making the participants wait. From the increasing volume of jetpack thrusters, he had a feeling they wouldn't be waiting for much longer. Good. It was about time he had a good shabla fight.
Sivkirayav 6 Cuir 1-1, Ruus'alor Ghev Kyrdol
No one in Strill Securities, especially those who'd volunteered for the job had an illusions about the fact that no one was going to understand why they'd made the decision to take Silmar's contract. Still, Ghev was going to try, "We're not working for the dar'jetii, ad'ika. We're working for the one of them, and he's paying us by giving back what was ours. Breshig's. The rest of these dar'jetii can usenye. Still, you want to fight my alor, you're welcome to try. I can comm ahead and let them know you're coming, or we can take your there ourselves, your choice."
As he and Kar Bakar spoke, one of his men had commed ahead to their IFV to stop and wait for them. The IFV's commander had commed ahead to Aran Netra, letting him know of the situation. None of them kept their weapons pointed at him anymore. Now that his intentions were clear, none of them were going to get in his way if that was indeed his chosen course of action. If it was a ruse, however, then none of them were going to be slow to open fire with every single bit of ordnance at their disposal.
Every nerve told him to run. As all the metal and flames cast about him. Their deathly sounds screaming death at him. Bastian, ever the fortress in the face of death. Oh he was scared. As any man should be. What example would he be to his men, his remaining men, should he turn tail? As fake of a hero as he felt. He would not at least break their beliefs this day.
Bastian had his free hand on his cap. Saving it from being blown off. It was second nature to have it secured from being lost. He came back to when the soldier he'd come across began shouting and ran over to another... very badly injured one. He took a quick scan around. More dead. Some troopers still alive. No Jedi in sight again. This was getting to be an annoying game of hide and seek he was quickly tiring of. Bastian barked orders for his soldiers to keep moving.
Evalina was knelt over the injured trooper. He joined her, taking a knee. His injuries were terrible. Chances of survival, not that he was a doctor seemed low. Bastian fiddled with his comms, switching channels. <This is Colonel Briareos. We've got a lot of dead and wounded, requesting a medivac ship to Damask Plaza ASAP. Over.> That was the best he could do for him. Hopefully they'd be able to get here quickly. "Alright soldiers. What's your names?"
Legend: comm in, comm out, ship's intercom and broadcast system, crew
"Sir, the Courageous is telling us that they are in safe zone behind the Confidence." announced the Comms Officer.
"Alright. Ahead full. Bring us behind the Confidence as well. Open a link to Grand Admiral Rausgeber."
"Aye Sir!"
"Grand Admiral Rausgeber, this is Captain Albrecht Herlock speaking. Task Force 58 has retreated behind the Confidence, I repeat: Task Force 58 has retreated behind the Confidence. Herlock, out."
Albrecht suddenly felt tired. He didn't had a moment to rest whereas his bridge crew were replaced every four hours. He stood up and said to the Executive Officer:
"Executive Officer, I'm going to rest for a bit. You have the bridge. If there's any problem, I'll be in my cabin."
"Aye Sir"
Herlock went to his cabin, layed on his bed and started sleeping a little. Since the beginning of this mission, he couldn't show any weaknesses in front of his crew. But right after the fighters raid, he was getting more and more tired and nervous. After a few hours, he went back to the bridge, taking command once again, ready to fight till the end.
"Did I miss some thing very important ?"
"No Sir. Our ship just passed the Confidence. We'll be joining the other ships of the Task Force within a few minutes."
"Good. We'll take back our place in the battle line formation. Status of the other ships?"
"The Silencieux has uncloaked a few hours ago and all the ships are combat capable."
A R E Y O N KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Lightsaber Pike | Armor
His hand would be stuck on the side of fallen walls as they continued to make their path through all of the destruction. The hellish landscape that the battle had created made it difficult for anyone to traverse. The young stormtrooper continued to give his support throughout the entire journey. Over tough terrain, dusted debris, and the unrealistic amount of bodies, he was there for it all. Areyon believed that it would help the young man get exposed to the elements of war. The loud screams coming from civilians caught in the crossfire, the pungent smell of death lingering in the nostrils, the anxiety of someone watching your every move. It was a stressful endeavor, but if he was ever to survive being a conscripted soldier into a massive army, he would have to be able to recognize the elements of war.
"She's close. I feel her," Areyon announced to his unfortunate companion. "Keep your wits about you, the Sith tend to have a level of unpredictability." The young stormtrooper responded with a nod.
The alleyway ended on a turn which revealed an open space surrounded by crumbled buildings abandoned by all life. He could smell the scent of Sith, its radiant energy emitting from everything for which she touched. He could sense it all. The stormtrooper supporting him looked back at him with confusion. He knew nothing of what Areyon sensed. Areyon would continue to walk where the feeling felt stronger as he slowly felt bits of his strength coming back. He found it easier to walk although it was still a challenge. He could grip his lightsaber pike more firmly, and in a correct form than in a more loose form that would hold no defensive pressure.
The collapsed building was eerily quiet. But her presence within it was strong, too strong to ignore. The imperial knight started to examine structure with a growing curiosity on how she got in. The observable entrance had been closed off due to debris, so it would have had to be another entry point.
The stormtrooper started his own sweep, looking for an entryway as well. It wouldn't take them long until they found it. Most of the glass panes had been shattered due to the rumble of explosions on the surface, leaving the buildings looking like empty husks of civilization. However, the glass pane they inspected not only had the scent of his fleeing opponent but the glass was cut. Specifically, it was cut in a way that left glass in the windowsill, large enough to allow a figure to crawl through. Areyon nodded at the soldier accompanying him, signaling for him to go forward. He acknowledged his request, holding his rifle with a steel grip and climbing inside. Areyon followed behind, however, he struggled a bit with regaining his balance. He ell over on the hard surface of the floor, adding to his plethora of injuries he gained from his fight. The stormtrooper was already poised to help him up but Areyon countered his request with a hand. If he were to regain his strength, he would have to put in the work. With shaking arms, he slowly pushed himself upwards onto his knees, then onto his feet. Their surroundings had nothing of interest to take of note, just more debris and random objects that would assimilate living.
The young stormtrooper suddenly tugged on his arm. Areyon looked at him with raised eyebrows. Without talking, the stormtrooper explained that the Sith had used the stairwell to get down, as evident by the opened door. They both could hear the patter of feet on the ground, the sound echoing off of the walls of the building and into their eardrums. Using more hand signals, he suggested that they followed. Areyon nodded in agreeance.
In the back of his mind, Areyon recognized that not much time remained. He needed to speed up, otherwise, his opponent would escape for good. He couldn't let that happen.
Aurelion blinked within his helmet up at Darth Strosius
as he was offered a hand. Surprise making him pause, consider, before taking it gladly. A thankful incline of his head as Valen Arenais delivered something closer to the response he expected. Aurelion winced, both at the disdain shown by the other Acolyte, as well as the veritable mess what had initially been promised to be a stealth operation turned instead into something more reminiscent of a warzone. Stepping up beside the other two, and taking a moment to wipe the dirt and grime from his armor, Aurelion would comment softly "Well.... maybe this will distract them? Let us do what we....." He trailed off as a small part of Aurelion considered that their mission was to plant explosives that would likely end in the deaths of dozens of people, his voice dying on his lips briefly, before he shook his head and sighed. "...... need to do."
Crouching down and taking a deep breathe, Aurelion would slowly begin to try and suppress himself in the Force, the tendrils of raw Dark Side energy emerging from his back hissing and bubbling like boiling tar for a brief moment before dispersing into a fine black mist about himself. Pain radiating up Aurelion's right arm as his armor's internal systems beeped in warning. The alchemical healing provided by the suit desperately attempting to combat the backlash of his use of the Force. His fingers quietly, subtly cracking and snapping as they broke, pain radiating off him for a brief moment as he bit down on his lip. his fingers being forcibly reformed and mended only to be then broken again as his armor warred with his fractured control of the Force. His voice wavering as he spoke to the other two, tears beginning to bead in his eyes. "We should.... move."
In truth Aurelion wanted to stop the technique as soon as he said the words. The pain was excruciating, torturous even, but he grit his teeth and began to move forward. The sensations not entirely unfamiliar to him, after all, and he pressed against a large outcropping of rock and debris as he waited for his compatriots to join him. He wasn't sure how they would wish to approach the complex, but he was willing to help with any ideas that came to mind.
The Shaper could only hum in contemplation as Allyson Locke
did nothing to stop her arrows from striking home amidst the Muun leadership. Cries of bloodshed and death echoing around the grand chamber as two fell to the floor. Bleeding, dead and lifeless and The Shaper could at least admire her commitment to her goal if not the shortsightedness of allowing the planet's leadership to die by her own weapon. Exact details such as his intervention could be lost, but a wound and cause of death matching the weapon of one such as her? Hardly. A piece of propaganda and information for later, if nothing else.
Allyson's words fell on amused ears as she parried the considerable weight of Acharn past her body. Causing the great spear to instead lodge itself into the wall with a thunderous CRACK and a wry smile graced his lips as he regarded the slight woman. The hacking droid going unnoticed by the ancient Sith who was, at the best of times, unfamiliar with technology of the like. Deciding to truly humor her The Shaper's form would dissipate entirely, melting into umbral blackness before he reappeared in an instant beside the embedded spear that Allyson had deflected. A fierce smile on his features as he lashed out at her with his blade in a diagonal slice aimed on same side as her cybernetic eye. The ancient alchemical blade sparking and flaring with electricity that jumped and leapt from it's rune-covered surface.
The False Light from the Whilstones on his brow began to smother and dull the Light of her arrows as he drew close. indicating them as the source of the ease with which he dismissed them. His words leaving him in a voice filled with almost parental reproach as he chided her. "Nothing to do with this? How naive. One who rules a planet has much to do with whom claims ownership, after all." A pause, as The Shaper's eyes fell upon Allyson briefly sweeping up and down her before he made a distinctly disgusted sound "And at least one of us is some form of cute. Mongrel."
OBJECTIVE I//: MEDIA BLITZ // TARGET >>LAERTIA IO// haunted
Surprise flashed for a split second across his eye as she wobbled unnaturally from his stab and shifted to counterattack his exposed sword-wielding arm. Her slash came down obliterating what remained of his wrist launcher in a fiery show of sparks and cut into his forearm far deeper than before; the enhanced healing had barely mended the previous cut when her riposte had struck lacerating his arm, slicing through the bioengineered flesh and cyborg modifications down to the bone. Had it been anyone but Abaddon, this would've dismembered his limb like a hot knife through butter.
The severe damage putting a strain on his pain receptor dampeners forcing him to release a huffed groan but allowing him to function without impeding his augmented reaction time. Abaddon's mangled arm flinched and he dropped his sword as a distraction before taking a step forward closer into an intimate distance to nullify the advantage of her sword's reach. His free hand would reach to grasp her throat seeking to squeeze the life out of her in his hold.
"In another life, you would've made for a worthy soldier." Emmett Carter Hayes' voice snuck through the vocoder of his helmet, then Abaddon's presence suffocated it away.
"Now die."
The strength in his hand was like that of a titan's fist.
Outwardly, the Knight may have seemed serious, focused entirely on the sole objective of protecting the comms station. But internally? There was no one around who could hear the questions that he flung back and forth. Similar conversations as to what were occurring back at base, he was sure. But the Gray Cloak was the one man sent out to deal with the unknowns.
Glancing over his shoulder, back the way he came, his cloak snapped in the wind, dust whirling up into the air in his wake as he raced past.
It wasn't the first time he had been out on his bike on Ord Thoden.
But never in such a hurry.
He had only been a few minutes out when his comm crackled to life.
<<"Uh, Mist-er.... Uh, Sir?">>
Brows knotting, Djonas' gaze unfocused as words filled his mind. <<"What is it?">>
<<"The, uh, Agent has found out about your orders. I'm... Stalling for as long as I can,">> the comms tech said in a hushed voice. <<"What should I do?">>
The throttle of the bike was loosened, and subconsciously he felt the bike beginning to veer to the left, as he too leaned in that direction. It lasted only for a moment before he snapped upright again, and regained his original course. "Do nothing," Djonas said drily, even despite the rest of him trying to convince himself otherwise, that it was best to return to base. Who else could stop an attack but him? "Do not get in the way of COMPNOR."
His outwardly searching presence scoured the land, until he felt a broiling presence lessen. Shrinking before tucking itself smaller and smaller until it was nigh imperceptible. Blinking, he dragged his presence in the Force back to himself as he clenched tighter on the handles, pushing the bike faster and faster, even going as far as leaning into the bike to go faster.
No coincidence there's an attack on Muunilinst then.
He swerved around an obstructing rock, slowing on the sticks as the figures of Darth Strosius
, Valen Arenais, and Aurelion Nova
came into view. At this point the sound of the speeder was undeniably noticeable. Maybe they were not really hostiles then? But the excuse of a school was hardly a convincing defense for what would ultimately mount up to trespassing. And if he, a member of the Force Corps was unconvinced, the Djonas could only imagine how Djorn Bline
would pull them apart when they were brought in.
"We are losing the cameras! They are targeting them, a panicked technician told while trying to restore contacts
"Not to worry. Reroute our camera input to the turrets' sensors and use them to map the room. What are we seeing?Gallius answered coldly
"Rerouting... I have a thermal 360-degree vision from the defensive turrets. The Sith-Imperial have retreated to the centre of the room, near their ships... They seem to be climbing upwards, but I do not know how."
"Status report on our troops in the main hangar bay?the officer asked while trying to draw his next move. His enemies were challenging. He had allowed them to board in hopes of destroying them while he could engage the rest of the flotilla, but they had proven tough enough to survive the first wave. Now, he wanted to know what that defensive wave had become. It would shape his strategy.
He could use the strategy that had granted the Sith Empire victory on Ord Mantell, back when he served the Sith. He had managed to trap his enemies on board his ship, and progressively destroy them, by playing around like a loth-cat with a womp rat. It had been dangerous because he had had first to prove to them he was truly on the vessel. Once it had been done, they had rushed head-on to his trap. They had finished in a zero-gravity room where the turrets had had no problem dealing with the boarding party. Perfection. But there not had been a Sith or a Jedi back then. And that changed his plans.
He could use Holt's Spike, but he would have to sacrifice too many troops to attain his goals. And he was not wasting the TodHusars to kill a Sith and a few troops. He could count on Jerec to hunt down the Sith and kill here, but he had matters to attend to. And of course, that led him to the choice of dispatching his elite Sith-killer company somewhere on the ship. But where? He knew his enemy was intelligent, and his hatred for Force-wielders could not blind him. They were dangerous. Maybe the most dangerous thing he could face in his life. And he currently had not the weapons to face a staff-sabre wielder. His petar would be of no use. And his scattergun risked destroying the fragile computers while fighting. The bridge would be in danger. However, if he reequipped quickly, he could face the Sith with no problem. Once he was holding a vibrosword of some kind, taken from his exotic stock of weapons, he would regain confidence. And Jerec would be unleashed.
"Sir, it appears the Sith are leaving the hangar bay by the ceiling! Our troops have surrendered, and are not trying to block the Sith's path. What do I do?
"Airlock the hangar! Jettison the atmosphere and all of the occupants! If our troops are unable to fight back, they will follow them in death, the Commodore replied angrily. His finest troops, backing down? How could it be?
"But sir... There may be a dozen TodHusars there... Can't we dispatch a rescue team?the technician asked. It was rare to see a crewman defy his commander, but his actions could be understood from an efficient point of view. Trying to spare resources. Live to fight another day.
"I guess we could ask the Revanchist to collect them. Fine. But do not waste time doing this! This rare act of mercy was to be noted. In previous situations, Gallius had just condemned his troops to the most gruesome deaths without a slight shame, but it seemed he cared differently when the matter was concerning the TodHusars. Monitor the cameras at the supposed Sith exit point! Inform me of their trajectory and redirect troops and defences to the choke positions around it. I want them cornered.
"Understood, sir. We are working on this.
"Try to hijack their personal comlinks. I want Janus's screams to follow them while they try and take a ship with them. Double the guards at the important locations and get Captain Jerec Yularen to...
Gallius hesitated. Where would the Sith strike? There were a plentiful of places to attack, even if he narrowed their possibilities according to their supposed exit point. From his point of view, the Sith would try to shut down the shields or the weapons first, and then strike at the life-support systems. But in their twisted minds, it could be the exact opposite... He felt like a mad doctor trapping rats in a death maze. It felt glorious, and he wanted to see his guests suffer a lot before he killed them. Because they were Sith. Because they were his enemies. He needed to despair them. To break them. And they would never escape.
He had to refocus. The important locations. They were twisted, they were thinking the exact opposite of him. Where was that leading them? The hangars and the main reactor. But the hangars were safe, he had made sure they were locked and protected. Then, the reactor. He could order an emergency seal, but it would disorganise the traffic of troops around the centre of the vessel. Anyway. He had to do it. It would sure complicate Jerec's manoeuvres but it'd serve as a last defence curtain in case the Sith-killer was not good enough. And there was the bridge, too. It was too crucial to be undefended. He was there, he could do it.
"Get Jerec Yularen on the hunt. Track their life signals and deploy our troops. Standard explosive maser and scattergun equipment. Shoot on sight and try to eliminate them all. We don't want any of them here.Gallius was now confident. He had just to reequip and his battle in space would go smoothly. Lieutenant Jax, you have temporary command. I need to grab an Echani gear. I'll be back in a moment."
Back on the bridge, the Commander felt reassured. He had chosen the Echani weapons he had because they had proven superior to what he had to fight back Sith. The staff-sabre was going to be challenging anyway, and he would be better with a cortosis-weaved pike and a personal shield generator. He was trained in Echani arts, although his skills had yet to be tested. His mastery of this particular martial art was relatively fragile, and he had preferred to focus on Jakelian knife-dance. He thought no Sith would be encountered before a good time. How stupid he had been. Now he was left with only three weapons and a personal shield to block his enemy. But whether Jerec managed to catch her before or not, it would be no danger at all.
The space battle was seemingly going well. The flotilla had been dealt with for the most part: one Corvette had blown itself up to breach the shield of debris, the other had attacked outnumbered. And while they had fought valiantly, the Sith vessels had not done much to the fleet. The Eternal Crusader had suffered a shield failure, but already technicians were rushing to repair the damages the reactor had suffered. The rest of the Azure Hammer Command was relatively spared, save the fighters who had been put on the forefront of Orcana's assault. The losses expectations were rounding the surviving crafts to 89 per cent of the force. The casualties were worrying, but not devastating.
Gallius was about to order the fleet to destroy the Harrower, but as he prepared his orders, the Cruiser jumped out of the battlefield. They had won this first encounter, and they were ready to march upon the next fleet. The Commodore recognised it. He had faced these vessels above Bastion. Moff Drybis Lyken. A fanatic follower of the Sith and an ambitious individual who clung to the old ways. Too afraid to let go of the Sith. Too submissive to rebel. Too weak to be of any help. But still a dangerous man, a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. He had proven to be dangerous at Bastion. No doubt he would be dangerous too here.
The Confidence acted strangely, but it could be yet another of Rausgeber's tactics to surprise his opponent and pass the Empress through. Anyway, the Azure Hammer Command had its orders, and it would stick to them. Close in on the Sith fleet and sweep their flank. Inflict crippling damages. From what the Commodore understood, they had reached the point in the war where each enemy casualty was a step to victory. No longer elaborate strategies had to be deployed to outsmart the Sith and force them to retreat. Once, it had been the tactic, to cut the Empire in halves, absorb swathes of territory and build a force. But now, the tables seemed to have changed. They were simply grinding for more victories. For more enemy losses. Truly, a war of annihilation was underway, and Gallius had to play his role.
His fleet moved in, accelerating at cruise speed while slowly hovering down on the ecliptic plane. If the passive sensor mode still worked, the New Imperials would be undetected and would have the surprise on their side. Striking from above at an enemy too blind and symmetrically organised, the Imperial-Anaxsi would just have to roll in and trap their fleet between them, the Confidence and the rest of the New Imperials. The Petards would do just fine for this, and Gallius made sure everything was in place. He could not make this wrong, or he would have troubles dealing with a sizeable hostile fleet. If he wasn't able to bring victory as quickly as he could, the battle would be vicious and bloody. All of this if the Azure Hammer Command managed to stay relatively unnoticed. The officer counted on the brief and discreet engine boosts and the passive sensor mode to do the trick but never was he too prudent. The altitude he had taken would be on his side for some time. If the Sith did not look above them, they would not detect anything.
"Bring us in. Prepare to open fire. Petards ready for launch, target their lead-ship. We are going to get from above them and surge at the heart of their formation. We will make them bleed.
"Sir, we are detecting an important hyperspace signature emanating from the Sith battle line. It seems they have reinforcements, Jax added to his commander's sentence. I advise we call the rest of the Imperials to help us destroy this gathering.
"Please do, Lieutenant. But leave us the glory.
"Of course, sir. Couldn't think of anything else.
And the signal was sent to the fleet. This may be their biggest enemy yet. They couldn't be foolish and run at it unprepared.
Rexus would've spat in the man's eye had he the chance. Bastard. Didn't even believe in a fair little game of rough 'em up. Stupid prick. He'd have his. He'd have his. The Death Trooper grunted. Although with how close the blade came to the vocal cords, there was very little chance of anything coming through. The Stossjaeger cast a wide berth of the warrior, as he shot his weapon at close range. The trooper avoided the blast largely, lurching forwards, and catching it to his stomach plating. He still grunted, collapsing forth. The Stossjaeger closed ranks, and created an interlocking field of fire. Rexus took one hand from his throat, and clicked on the bacta injector. It was not much, but it would help numb the pain. He agonised beneath the visor, grunting and coughing. The bacta would help ease things. But there was a certain... inevitability to things. Rexus felt it. He knew that this may not be enough. And that made him shit himself in terror.
Twigg looked aghast. He was certain he would have had the prick. That stupid mother- gah! The Death Trooper was consumed by vengeance for his blood brother. The wars they had been through. What they had seen together. There was a history there. From the grimy streets of Avalonia. The Riffs and the Fangers. Ancient history, bridged from blood. But both men had known each other since childhood. Those adolescent street fights and scraps. "G A H H H H H !" Twigg cried out in anguish. He was a wounded animal, who knelt by his commanding officer. Rexus. The only true friend the man had ever known. Not a flake like Luther. Disappearer like Kyli. True camradererie. The Death Trooper knelt next to Rexus, "Rex, mate... Rex... What do I... What do I do mate? I can't-I-I can't...." The Death Trooper sobbed. "I can't leave you Rex...." Twigg whispered, "I-I...." He paused, "I never told you mate. I never toldya how much you meant. How you... How I.... I-I..." Twigg swallowed and sighed, "I-I love you mate. I always have. Always will....Just don't..." The Death Trooper clasped his comrades hand, and squeezed, "Don't... Don't die on me... Don't leave me..." Twigg begged, "You're the last of us, we-we did so much mate... So much..." Twigg took but a moment further to compose himself. He was a wreck behind the helm, "I-I... I won't let you... I can't let you... Just-just..." Twigg whispered. "Please."
Rexus lifted his palm, disentangling it from Twigg's iron grasp. Twigg's gaze rose, meeting Rexus', behind the helm. Rexus gently caressed Twigg's helm. The trooper let it steadily slide down the right cheek. He then clasped his comrade, nay, his friends helm, and pressed it to his own. There was a stillness. Twigg's body shuddered quietly. Although his sobs were audible, along with heavy breathing. "R-Remus." The Stossjaeger Captain barked, approaching as his men continued to assail, and hold back the Sith. "We will hold to the last." The Stossjaeger officer barked, giving him a nod, "Kill the Sith. Crush him. Avenge the Commander." Twigg's fists clenched. And he rose. He snatched the lightsaber from Rexus' lap, and ignited it. The golden blade. The one he had given to his friend all those years back on Kaeshana... It would be his tool to end the Sith bastard. Twigg disengaged the blade, and then reached for his rifle. No mercy. No quarter. And just like the years at ALPHA; No half measures. This was for all of them.The Riffs and the Fangers. The Gundark Gunners. The First Order, ALPHA and all the rest. But most of all. This was for Resus.
Twigg set off with a whirlwind sprint. An emotional storm stirring within the man, as he pressed on. He knew this would perhaps be an end to things. Here and now. He was going to ice that stupid bastard. "You stupid bastard!" Twigg screamed, footsteps booming behind the Sith. A reckoning was coming. Palpable and filled with incandescent rage. "You stupid, dumb bastard!" The Death Trooper barked, his lungs hoarse, but his voice still booming. Almost a vengeful God as he pressed forward. "I'm gonna tear ya bung'ole open like a fortune cookie, and rip you in two!" The Death Trooper screamed, "I'm gonna flay ya alive! I'll beat ya to death in front of your friends! Make 'em watch as I crack every lil bone and use yer hair for toilet paper!" Twigg threatened, his tone intensifying. "I'm gonna feast on your feckin' tongue and use yer ears for bloody-bloody... Bloody...!" Twigg screamed to the top of his lungs, clearly his propensity for cruelty getting ahead of his vocabulary. But there was one bottom line. One thing that a wanker like the Sith needed to know:
"I'm gonna kill ya! And I'm gonna feel real nice about it!"
Objective: Sabotage the communications, Blind the enemy Location: Near the 'Echo-Aurek' installation on Ord Thoden Equipment:Lightsaber Allies: TSE Enemies: NIO Tags: Aurelion Nova
/ Valen Arenais / Djorn Bline
/ Konrad Bolter
/ Djonas Val ----------------------------------------------
The moment his hand was taken, the masked acolyte wasted no time in pulling his comrade to his feet. Harsh as his words might have been, Valen Arenais was entirely correct. They had no real plan B, no backup. Their stealthy approach had already been compromised but the situation wasn't totally unsalvageable, if they moved quickly and got lucky of course. If they failed then the mission failed, unless something from that carrier managed to get through whatever forces were planetside.
"The situation may not be as we anticipated, but our approach is still relatively unknown." He spoke, in some attempt to keep moral. Aurelion Nova
made a very good point though, they did have one big distraction to their advantage. That would have to be enough. One moment, he had looked away to scan the area around them for anything. Be it moving, useful, or otherwise. The next thing that he knew, Aurelion's presence lessened and no longer provided a noticeable ache in the back of his head. The pained position of the other Sith however, was even more noticeable.
He stepped back as Aurelion moved forward, idly nodding at the young man's words before his confused gaze turned to Valen for some sort of support. Alisteri had never dealt with a situation like this before, and he had certainly never dealt with Aurelion. Regardless, he wouldn't have any time to properly address the pained Sith.
A new presence in the Force made him pause and cock his head back in curiosity just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of an approaching speeder. Chit. His hand almost flew to his side to rest on his weapon instinctively, but he stopped and instead turned to spot the owner of said speeder not too far away. Thankfully, the Imperial Knight was alone and had yet to draw his own weapon. One could only guess how long that would last. "Oh. The Stormtroopers sent out one of their pets. Think this one has been neutered yet?" He muttered under his breath.
The Acolyte was tempted to rush and attempt to simply slay the Knight before he could alert anyone, but he decided against it. "Follow my lead." He gestured for Valen to get near Aurelion before he cleared his throat and waved his hands in the air whilst jumping. "HEY!! Hey! Can you help us?! Our friend, he's really hurt!"
Their shuttle came into a slow landing farther away from the installation, hopefully just outside of what would be considered 'trespassing' by any authorities. The pilot sat back in his seat, watching the comm-unit carefully as he ensured that his blaster pistol was loaded and ready just in case.
Damian would duck past the reforming unit's lines as they tried to quickly get their act together, unfortunately for them Damian wasn't the kind to sit and fight when his mission was on the line. So as they would try to set up their formation to hold the line against the Shock Troopers, Damian would smile as he was certain that they would find the one thing that had not come into play for them would be quite troublesome if not outright lethal. The stealthed contingent of warriors that his counterpart had brought along. And he was certain that as they completely focused on the now outnumbered shock trooper squad, they would be torn asunder by them. It was however no matter to him, a non issue, he had a mission to complete. The Empress was his objective, and he would not fail his master. That being said a particular wail behind him only too well signaled that the other Death Trooper had decided to give up on saving his comrade and chase after him. The words were of no matter to Damian, the difference between them was more than clear. The Death Troopers clearly let their rage and emotions rule them, while Damian and his used them as a weapon. Such a lack of discipline. He could hear the boot falls on the hallway as the Death Trooper would easily be able to catch up. Damian wasn't a full trained Sith yet, so powers were quite non-existent but Damian was far from helpless. He'd been chosen by the former Empress and Shaper for a reason. He'd survived all of his trials, for a reason. He audibly sighed in frustration at the Death Trooper's choice. His mission took priority, and while he'd hoped the dog would've stayed to make it easier it seemed that they were intent on making this difficult.
He stopped in the hallway he was in, and surveyed it. There were lights, some panels, a few doors. Not an ideal place to fight especially considering his disruptor rifle was gone, but it was doable. He paused as he thought to his mission, and its pressing importance and looked to the doors before him. No. He couldn't abandon his mission because of some tom foolery from an opponent who didn't know when to stay down. He'd deal with him later, and turned to a panel for the blast doors, punching the close button causing the doors to close before him. And as they ground to a halt, he would draw out his sawn off shotgun, and plant it into the panel before pulling the trigger. A resounding boom would detonate through the hallway as the panel was utterly riddled and destroyed, forcing a feed back loop through the controls for this particular door that would constantly submit the command close. That would keep the doors shut and keep the ruffian from getting in the way. And with that settled Damian turned back down the hallway and started running again. At all costs he had to succeed in his mission. There was no room for error, for failure. Not for him, and certainly not for the Emperor.
Hull/Shields Name Fleet: 1xHarrower-class Cruiser150/100 Decimator jumped, now running repairs, and tracking the position of The Pride of the Emperor
1x Tammar Class Corvettes DestroyedExar Kun, Self-destruction
1x Tammar Class Corvettes DestroyedJurak Uln
1x Squadron of Caedus-class Superiority Fighter (0) Deployed, to intercept, enemy fighters (3 destroyed, by debris field, 7 destoryed in dogfighting)
3x Squadron of Scorpio-class Sith-Imperial Droid Starfighter (13) Deployed, to intercept, enemy fighters (24 destroyed in debris field 24 destoryed in dogfighting))
1x Squadron of Caldoth-class Bomber 1 left, 10 shot down, 1 crashed into the particle shield generator
2x Squadron of Vindican-class Troop Transport (10) fully loaded, with one space free For Darth Banshee (9 have been shot down 5 damaged making a staircase)
As she was cutting through, thinking she was safe from prying eyes, she didn't sense she was still being watched as she was focused on using her force sight, to keep track of her enemies movements. No doubt though the heat vision cameras, would notice her flatulence, as it gas escaped her armour. As she cut through the hanger bay ceiling, a lump of metal dropped on to transport below her, it narrowly missed her foot. She then quickly lept up to the next deck, she erected a force bubble around her as she moved up, to stop anyone shooting her in the back, as she leaped up. As she did, she was meet with a hail of blaster fire and explosives, some of which bounced back towards her enemies. The shield though collapsed shortly after, a few shots hit her Phrik breastplate and one bounced into her thigh, which made her drop back down the hole.
As she dropped the marines that boarded with her fired grenades up to the next deck, as she was scrambled down to second transport. As she was being checked over. She saw her marines, joining in the fight, she had an idea, though she would have to wait till her amulet healed her thigh. this would not take too long, as the blast didn't penetrate her armour. As soon as she was up again, she used her force sight, to work out where the enemy troops were, and then blasted the floor underneath them with force lightning, she was hoping to fry them from below......
Red eyes looked this way and that, her stride slowing to a halt while she listened for the continued sounds of gunfire, sounds of war. It was there, of course - this was a battlefield, after all - but it was distant, delayed, and that was a sign most curious to her. A hunter by nature, as surely the Shi'ido had evolved their transformative figures to do so, this was not what she had been looking for. A pressing assault, a hopeless, or perhaps hopeful, defense, those were the things she was most accustomed to, be they Sith, Jedi, or from any of the other myriad walks of life that the galaxy housed, but this relative quiet, a certain subdued housing for those that had been picking off Sith and soldiers alike one by one, informed her that she had traded roles the moment she'd stepped inside.
At least in the mind of the prey she was now stalking.
Chapped lips, dried from the heat she'd exposed herself to outside, curled up into a smile while she leaned against the wall the stairwell attached itself to, sliding a hand against its smooth surface. Heat spread from her touch, taking her time to excite the material that made up the section of walling that she kept contact with, and smoke began to rise and curl around her fingers and wrist, snaking up her arm and into the space above her. Like an animal she knew the futility of seeking out prey that hid from her, especially that which she was, in essence, blind to with the force - something she'd noticed when she had arrived, ergo the reliance on her sense of hearing. She could simply leave, abandoning her catch to freedom and to live another day.. or she could do as her mission called for and destroy everything that the government of the Muun people clung to. Surely nobody would bat an eye at the collateral she'd cause.
She doubted they'd try to do anything even if it did bother them, anyway - half of the Imperial sovereignty bore the mark of Typhojem, to will them against their masters was as simple as asking, as it had been by design.
'Quite the frightening weapon; religion.'
The thought came as fire began to spread from beneath her hand, to which she responded by simply pulling away - turning towards the way she'd came. The hand she'd sparked the arson with now hung at her side, her other hand now shouldering much of the weight of her sword, with her fingers curled into a ball - only there was space between them and the palm of her hand, like she was gripping something unseen. "It could've been fun." She muttered, tightening her grip and bringing her fingers steadily closer together - the fire spreading faster and faster with each successive fraction of a centimeter that her fingers drew close. "But I suppose I do have a job to do." Vesta said aloud with an exaggerated sigh, carrying herself back down the stairwell - leaving her potential foe to their fate, be it what it may.
It would take a moment or two, but after someone over the coms chastised the technician who had rejected her offer, they responded with allowing her to send her information, pushing lady Marrow to dig into the recesses of the parts of her mind that she was afforded. Dragging all these things to the surface of her mind as she would move through the broken shambles that was once a building. Her small lithe form allowing her to slip by, through and squeeze amongst cracks in the structure... or lack thereof. She could hear the armoured footsteps of the creatures that had evidently failed to spot her in the open, thankful to her continued stealth, but she knew that they were onto her now.
Pulling to the other end of a half collapsed room, one of her tails would slither to one of the reinforcement bars that had been exposed and twisted under the duracrete causing sections to near collapse. With a flick of her barbs the material would snip. At first there would be a creak and a grind before a resounding rocky boom as the floor would cave in between herself and her opponents, at least in this building. Taking a rock she would hurl it out one of the barely intact windows casing an outward shatter as she would climb up the newly opened hole to the unstable second floor of the complex. Having hopefully thrown off their scent... at least for some moments as she would sit, hands around her knees attempting to regain her breath and recover that little bit more.
"Good! See, i told you! Yes, here are the locations of some of their batteries and stations, central square is a big staging ground, they have some really big heavy knights there, but its fueling and resupplying ships. There are also quick attack bikes moving around the area in these locations. But if you follow the westward paths, ducking into the maintenance way at 93rd and keens street you can get by the central blockades. They... wow, they have almost nobody in the underground. I have the positions of the 501st as well and a few other companies and the directions they gave their civilians to get to safety. Do you have a map...?"
Her words would carry, speaking loud enough they could be heard over the transponder, but also loud enough that enemies nearby should they get close enough would be able to interject. It was a lot of information, and she was going to need some time as the operator would find a map of Muunilist that they were able to chart the positions of others upon. Her knowledge wasn't completely up to date, but it was damn good, enough to get soldiers into their capitol buildings and cut off their attempts at escape.
The crack of footsteps would draw closer, lady Marrow had recovered some stamina, but not much, enough for a solid burst of movement and something fancy... but not enough to win a drawn out battle. She was almost certain that her poison hadn't been as effective as she'd liked. When she saw the man for a moment she'd noticed he was standing... she'd been weakened pretty badly it seemed. There was a chance the potency would be wearing off soon, effectively fought off and held at bay by his own force potential. A not so difficult feat.
Crawling to the edge of the building she would look down through a crack in the wall from the second story, hoping to spy them, and hoping they didn't spy her. They were so close, she was almost caught... precious moments slipping by as an accurate map of the area had been loaded up, but if Marrow were to speak now, she would reveal her position and the two of them would be on her in an instant. Clambering to one of the open windows, she would loom over the two of them... before leaping.
She'd leap for the man at his side, hoping to slam into the ground with a hard enough blow to the head to attempt to knock him unconscious, that however would entirely depend on his armour as she would whirl, two tails swiping for the ankles of Areyon with the hopes of looping around and tugging his feet out from underneath him yet again to slam him on his back. Targeting his seeming lack of balance as he had been relying on another for it. Digging a claw down towards the breastplate of the soldier she'd hoped to land on, or the ground to support the attempted pull of someone considerably larger than she.
If she wanted to get comms out, she needed to get rid of this thread. Not only her mission, but this entire invasion potentially relying on this one man's removal. Marrow's features would sharpen, the weight of literal worlds that could be invaded by these monsters as vengeance for daring to launch a single counterattack put the lives of millions in the balance. If they could bite back hard enough, wound the monster that was the NIO, the beast may be bought to parley. Dead and gone was the defensive, it had proved ineffective for half a decade... they'd only respect an Empire that could attack!
'Don't mind us, we can see it's been a busy night for the Irregulars.... Any idea what's going on in the bridge-plazas? We can see troop or mechanised movements from time to time, but nothing' that warrants a threat as far as opposition is concerned.'
After making their way back to the lines they'd seen lighting up with rocket and anti-tank activity, all the enemy ordnance would be leaving quite the pretty show of flaming wrecks for the Wildcats' commanders to use as directional-reference on approach. Little did they know that the combined efforts of the Tuath/Dunwall barrage continued on after they reached safety, pushing deeper down the burning line of tanks and walkers to mop up whatever last stands they could find; wrecking a whole plethora of vehicles in another string of chain-reaction barrages, with every loaded rocket being launched to follow the general trajectory of the first in every instance they had to attack again. By the time Scott and Davidson had returned to see if the boundaries could be pushed on, other Irregulars had preceded them to clear every building in a half-mile radius, dragging survivors from wreckages and skyscrapers alike soon after the Tuath-born duo struck up a conversation with the nearest Northern-Galidraani units in the area.
'Honestly, sir? None of us 'ave even ventured that far into the inner-city yet, plenty goings-on from what we can 'ear an' see anyway.... In any case, I'm Corporal Tomlinson. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, er-'
'-Guard-Leftenant Scott, pal.... And likewise, you should stick with us once you're done with the prisoners. I have a little idea that I'd like to run by your commander, one I daresay you might enjoy seeing in action.', the Tuath guardsman started, pausing after being interrupted by the not-so-distant sound of unrelated massed small-arms hostilities. Over just as quickly as they began, an indicator of how close the fighting was in some places, and also an indicator of different fronts spilling over onto each other as the Sith-trooper presence began to fill out the streets beyond; yet this was working into the effectiveness of the chokepoint strategy, baiting the enemy presence off their line so the SIth loyalists would bleed their own numbers dry on nothing but the Free-State's cunning use of the broken city itself. As the POWs were all executed on the spot, the Tuath shook the Dunwaller's hand and continued,'And if I know Lord Gowrie half as well as I think I do, it can be safely assumed that things are going to be getting a little louder soon.'
'In that case,"Stay-Close to keep your cool, Stay-Low to keep yourhead!", as the ol' sniping maxim goes.... Still some slick shooters in the area, but I'm much slicker!'
The Glow of Death XIV - The Tuaths' Game 2
Standing at the entrance to the underground-station that led to their command-centre, watching as all the concealed tanks drove out with fresh movement orders to complete, the Woad and the Tuath were discussing the plan to draw larger swathes of enemies into the city, with loud engines roaring by them as Gowrie and Reed continued to formulate their little plan together. Each and every vehicle that drove by them, stolen or otherwise, would move off to take up positions along a loosely-manned defensive static-line, with their Lord's urged encouragement to remain poised for a quick (though extensive) series potential ambushes and consequent counter-attacks whenever the time came for them. The Stolen vehicles in particular would be used to give false hope to the Sith-loyalists attempting to push the New-Imperial center, theoretically gifting the defenders just enough time to capitalize on the momentary lull in the advancing momentum.
With the Thistle's crew in close-proximity, the ability to make good use of the ACV's features came in handy as they issued all the necessary orders to set the plans into motion, getting the finer-nuances of the operation underway whilst they were in the process of being finalized between the Barran-made duo. Gowrie would slowly but surely ease off on his Woad-born captain as the last puzzle-pieces clicked into place, though there was still one matter to attend to, one that would greatly intensify the losses they were hoping to inflict on the Sith's ground-forces. As Gowrie reached for his datapad, Reed rejoiced,'So it's finally time t'get this party started then! ABOUT - BLOODY - TIME!!!', knowing the impending wildness would dwarf that which they experienced with the rather easy rustling of the fifth-and-last Sith-loyalist MLV of the day.
<<Gowrie to Iron Wolf
Greetings from the Tuaths of Galidraan III
We see you have a rather sizeable force of speeder-bikes at your disposal, and have since formulated a strategy that Barran himself would go weak at the knees for. We like seeing you lead your formation like a cavalry-commander, and have drawn to the conclusion that your contingent would be perfect for a particular nomadic strategy we had in mind.
Fancy leading a big, fat, juicy chunk of the enemy forces into the inner-city for us? We want to ambush at strategic choke-points throughout the districts we'll mark up in a route we're still planning for you. Let me know if this idea takes your fancy, as we could get started as soon as your pursuers start giving chase.
Rest assured, pretty much every playing-piece is set.
Wildcat One out.>>
Konrad Bolter
|
Djonas Val
|
Hakon Fett
Darth Strosius
| Valen Arenais |
Aurelion Nova
|
Laertia Io
