MOFF-PROTECTOR
Location: Harnaidan City
Task: Objective One - Run
Focus: Lyra Voi'kryt Adrian Vandiir
Faction: New Imperial Order
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What would he do? Would he use his foul arts to turn the men under Ravraa's command on him one by one? Would he lunge at the medic and cleave him with an unseen weapon? What was the Sith's game? He claimed mercy, as Ravraa was drilled that the Sith would try to do, offering a sense of moral highground and betterment. Questioning why the New Imperial Order were on their grand crusade through dark space, why they would even dare stand against an apocalyptic monster that was the Sith Empire. Ravraa would have recited his entire oath to the corps right then and there if it would shut the man up... would he? What allegiance did he have outside of the fact they allowed him to fight Sith? He certainly wasn't born in NIO space, why did the Sith's words cut him so deeply then? Why did the weight on his finger feel even heavier than normal.
“Frag out!” she coughed, her one hand reaching back up to shield her eyes.
The fact that Lyra could move after what she had been through nearly floored the Togruta. Seeing her body suddenly animate to life, flinging her arm out and letting a grenade roll from her grip was like seeing an ancient leviathan beach from the briny depths. Your mind told you time and time again that it shouldn't be happening, that the force hidden beneath the calmed and fading surface shouldn't be able to exist, and yet here it was. The spark of hope amidst the dead and dying. The device clattered through the debris and rubble, before suddenly claiming the entire space with a nova of light and sudden shroud of darkness. Forcing the field promotion commander to cover his eyes by simple reflex, his hand snapping back to the carbine a moment after the situation had properly register.
<"Get her out of there!"> Ravraa roared.
The trooper that was tending to Lyra, the same that so willingly went to shield her from the blast, muttered a small apology to the woman as he went to work. He slipped his arms underneath her knees and behind her back, careful to keep her legs elevated as she had asked. The trooper hardly needed to be told twice to bug out as he stumbled backwards as he raised the captain, his feet catching on the debris and nearly sending him tumbling with the captain in his grasp. Fear gripped the faceless man's heart, he was the rank and file, he was the endless hundreds that gave their lives in service to their betters. If this is how he went, he was okay with that. The other members of Dorn-2, thankfully, hadn't wandered too far from Ravraa proper. The sheer amount of bodies made it to where their deathmarch through the field ended up being more of a deathstroll, blasters still warm from easing the fallen into a more permanent sleep. They'd rather that for the mutilated men than whatever the Sith would do when they got their hands on them. However, the instant the grenade had popped, training regiments kicked in nearly instantly. Blasters were raised, and following the lead of their command, the squad began to back into the alleyway they had traveled from.
Ravraa stood near the entrance as he squad funneled out of the killing field, rifle never leaving the unknown hostile in front of him. The moment his men were clear, he began to back pedal himself, finally pulling down on the trigger in two quick bursts, sending a volley of bolts in the direction of the cloak. The carbine snapped back harshly in his grip as the rounds attempted to find the distance between him and the fog. Ravraa had no delusions about the shots actually killing the Sith, much less even hitting him, but the sheer satisfaction that it brought him to have the intent in his heart was plenty for him. Suppression and delaying. It was the best he could hope for as he turned, hustling down the path after his men. His hand dug at his belt, his hand merely slapping against the betaplast for a moment before wrapping his fingers around his prize. The last thermal he had clipped to him. The Sith would just turn it into a missile if he chucked it across the threshold. His thumb pressed down on the activation button, and gently the hum began to sound from the device. He simply let it drop from his grip at they dispatched from the alleyway and hung a hard left.
Flash, beep, flash, beep, a moment later the device busted into a violent expanse of flame and combustion, sending red quakes through the mason structures next to it. Churning through their stability, the stonework shattered on the edges instantly, collapsing down into the exit into the street, with some of the paneling from the roof even joining in the party as the explosion rocked the entire complex.
Now, Dorn-2 was dead sprinting down the same street they had been held up in moments before their chance encounter. One of the most influential captain's in the NIO was bleeding out in one of Ravraa's squadmates grasp, and poor Jeresan was pulling up second with her arm in one hand and a blaster in the other. Ravraa was certain that the Sith would keep up the chase. They were injured, tired, and carrying a VIP...
Ravraa reached up, pressing down on the side of his helmet as his armor racked against his body, his breathing coming in great rolling gasps.
<"Dorn-2. Heavy squad casualties. We have retrieved Captain Voi'kryt, traumatic amputation. Cloak confirmed on our location. We need medivac, now! Whoever is on this channel, I repeat, we have Captain Voi'kryt. Major trauma response requested. We're fucking dying out here! Uploading grid coordinates, westbound. Whoever can read, respond."> He transmitted to allied comms, desperation choking his voice.
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