Invasion Schism's Dawn // NIO invasion of TSE controlled Mygeeto and Muunilinst

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER // Raider Sqd
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// DUEL THEME // Mr. Rager
// TGA // Loske Treicolt
// TSE // Ellie Mors

Pulling, cutting and weaving his cobalt blade through the air to deflect the oncoming blaster bolts of the parceled defenders before he surged forward, springing his feet from the ground of errant rubble and debris to swing the prismatic blue blade from just above his shoulder in a downwards cut through the Sith Trooper - the man offering up a loud note of pain as he trembled to his death. Even if Raider Squadron offered little quarter to the black clad troopers - the Jedi was out of place in his outward brutality.

First to the saber he wasn't content leave room for undefined variables. Not in a warzone, surrounded by the enemy, with her at his side. Patience was not the path to be tread here. Even if patience had bared its fruits many times over for the wayward Jedi, now simply wasn't the time. When backed against the wall - he'd moved by will alone. Anger coursing through each movement not into frantic blows but a far more frigid application. Each cut measured, meticulous as opposed to the delusions in his striking at random against Tathra Khaeus displayed not all too long ago.

"Captain!" Jambo sounded out in close alignment to the hissing vibration of his cobalt saber retracting into the leather padded, battered hilt. Clutching the very same weapon he'd abandoned on the Mandalorian agri-world.

<"Corporal. Restrain em, see what they know."> Treicolt ordered out with a nod toward the newfound prisoners brought low to their knees in fear. The entrance might've been jostling and overwhelming to the senses but- Loske, Maynard, the Alliance troopers...they were all mortal. Operating on a more just terms of engagement that contrasted in shades from the New Imperial acting policies reflecting a nation seeking to will the Sith Empire into its inevitable Götterdämmerung whilst operating on shades of nuance that could only exist between the Galactic Alliance which held sentient life in great value and the Sith Empire which all but seemed to regard it as nothing.

It wasn't the modus operandi of the democratically reformed and unified Core but even still, the Alliance had at least the reprieve that not only were they on the offensive, but Muunilinst was a far ways off from Coruscant. Losing here only meant the evasion of any Sith encroachment, not the undoing of their way of life.

Regardless, Maynard wasn't himself. At least he hadn't been in these situations in a long while. The more easy going man who'd utilized a far more boistrous attitude in the fray to cope with the ever present danger hadn't lingered in some time. After Brentaal his composure more often chilled than anything in these critical, tense moments.

“This isn’t secure.”

“There’s someone powerful waiting for us.”

"Again. Together."

He knew immediately. Even though he was able to isolate her among the Vong Fleet at Pabol Hutta -- she'd all but escaped his senses here. As soon as the realization struck him the very same haunting sentiment he'd heard then sliced through his consciousness akin to a meat cleaver, burying itself into the forefront of his mind.

"In death, I am born -"

Feeling a faint tremor seize his form a for moment he heft his spare hand to his temple, screwing his eyes shut for a moment as he clutched his saber hilt in his right hand, squeezing his palm against the leather padding the weapon as his vision shuddered the vision of Braith's form clasped beneath the cognition hood of her Vong craft before it melted away to reveal her Firrero face, once more cracking at the seams to unravel Darth Alekto in her totality before his gaze snapped open, his eyes shifting to Loske as she offered him that look of conviction. She was certain.

<"Again."> Maynard stated in return, steeling himself as he unfurled the inevitability of this encounter. As brief and decisive as it might've been before, he had every reassurance he not be given a second chance at victory so easily. That self-doubt had been seemingly vanquished until it skittered back from the recesses of his subconscious now. Why? Why of all times did he feel his nerves calcify, his senses strain as he prodded out with the force like a hand frantically waving through water.

Where was she? As clear as she stuck out before -- she was shrouded now. Be it the death around him, the staleness of the air. With so many Sith present on the field in Harnidan, darkness was not a premium.

In relation to the main planning area - the rangers and their Jedi commanders were standing right above. Assuming Alekto had taken charge of that point, she would be there. Maynard assuming well as she did aboard the Vong ship she would not take the initiative. She would wait for him- for them.

<"Split up...check the other rooms. Me and Blue will take care of the nexus point."> The Captain ordered out to his Rangers. The NCO of the squad piped up in protest.

"Sir-" The Sergeant piped up, taking the Viperwasp into his hands once more as he stepped toward Maynard, the Jedi offering a shake of his armored head side to side toward the man.

<"Trust me on this one..."> The Concordian uttered. A foreboding inflection unto his tone as if he knew something he didn't. The Rangers could only do so good here.

Ever wary of Jedi, the Sergeant offered up a reluctant nod, the gaberwool balaclava serving to conceal the look of skepticism. With the Raiders fanning out the two were left alone with one another. Shifting his T-Visor gaze to Loske he slowly angled his index and middle finger to the floor beneath. She was right below them. Finding any alternate means of descent meant time to be detected, time for 'Braith' to set the trap. They had to go. Now.

<"Together."> He uttered to her in confidence before he slowly brought himself down unto one knee with one palm laid flat against the floor, motioning her to do the same with a nod. In isolation, he couldn't manage the task but with her - it was viable. The structure around them was ancient, carved from time test reliable Muun methods but even still, it was not engineered in anticipation of any powerful concussive force at its flooring suspended between the ornate supporting structures.

Closing his eyes he reached out through the Force. Seeking to envelop her mind in his - mending the disembodied schism between them with a faint meld before he reeled his outstretched hand back, eventually slamming it into the floor beneath with a potent push, the force manifesting into an immeasurable bludgeon that beat against the floor with their synchronized thrust.

It'd take another. Breathing in through his nose as he felt the flooring faintly flex beneath him he pumped back his arm and sent it surging forward again as he manifested a powerful destructive wave through the force around his hand intune with hers which send the floor beneath shattering into several large chunks of rubble that sent the pair falling in line with it. Opening his eyes again he set forth to roll against the planning table beneath on his descent, eventually springing to his feet only two meters away from Braith before he summoned the prismatic blade from his saber again, sending it alight in super heated blue.

Ever brazen, Maynard leaped forth, grasping the hilt in both hands with the aim of twisting his upper back before surging it forward with a thrust of the blade to her chest. All but an ode to the coup de grace he inflicted on her before.

PAGE CLAIM

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[Ellie Mors]

BURY A FRIEND

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Location: Muunilist | Harnaidan City
Objective: Defend Muunilist, Punish Opposition
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Maynard Treicolt & Loske Treicolt
Equipment: Saberstaff

Death.

The cries of the deceased were carried on the wind like a miasma, one which permeated the air and fluttered through the walls like an invisible wind. Why was it that she had not recognized the Jedi that were separated only by a thin layer of flooring and ceiling? Why was it that she, who was in some ways Braith Achlys of days past, could not recognize the sensation in the force that belonged to the man that was, by all rights, her killer? The familiarity was there, perhaps she even, on some level, made the connection between his presence and the ambiguity she felt regarding whatever memory it might have been that connected she to he - but it was but a small feeling, one which she disregarded all the same.

'Does a child remember the faces of every ant that they trample underfoot?'

The thought ran through her mind as she brushed the familiarity aside and observed the destruction of the ceiling above, waving the saber in her right hand to will a portion of the air in the room to be pulled through the hole that was opened, removing whatever shroud of debris and dust the man might have hoped would have covered their descent as he fell to the table at her front. The mildly unamused expression she wore on her face matched the feelings of disappointment she felt as a man lunged to thrust his saber towards her front - her eyes briefly taking account of the blonde that had followed him through the breach as the saber in her left hand moved with blistering speed in a sweeping counter-clockwise motion to strike his saber from beneath in order to bat it away. She did not remain rooted, as perhaps he had hoped she might, and the bat-like wings that had remained folded against her back unfurled and suddenly caught a current of air that previously had not been there - a control over the environment that perhaps Ryv might have been able to warn the man of, had he both been here and recognized her for who she was - to propel her several meters back.

Perhaps the duo had hoped for a mirrored meeting, one to echo their last aboard the Miid Ro'ik, and perhaps there was a fundamental misunderstanding of who she was and her capabilities - but the Sith lord held no interest in playing the part of a facade she had created to keep her identity obscured from the people that worshiped her. Here she stood, tall and undeterred, her wings folding back behind her back as she leaned forwards with her ankles, her knees bending slightly while the twin sabers she held with both hands came in front of her as a rather unorthodox guard, something reminiscent of Juyo but vaguely similar to Niman. The bright, piercing, blue of the man's saber, the compassionate concern she could see in the woman's gaze for the reckless Jedi that had struck so impulsively against her; the two were recognized by the Sith at last.

"Victory is as much a delicacy as it is a poison, Master Jeedai, it would be wise not to drink from its cup so often." Alekto noted, the tendrils, that had perhaps appeared as hair atop her head to the two, began to move independent of her body like feelers seeking out a surface to grab. "Lest you succumb to its pleasure and drown." She taunted cryptically.

"Last we met I was a mere chrysalis, but today you have found me yet again - free from the confinements of nature, let loose upon the stars by your own hand." She said with the smile she'd worn the moment he had impaled her on his blade. "Does the doe who walks behind you know of the murder you harbor in your heart?" Alekto asked, equal parts mockery and curiosity. Obvious as the miasma of death that surrounded them was to her, as there always was in war, the feelings of others were laid naked to her and exposed - few had managed, in the history of the modern era, to obscure that facet of them, preferring to wear their hearts upon their sleeves than to mask themselves in a robe of numbing apathy as their ancestors had.

 

[Darth Quizitus]

Post: 3
Location: Bridge B, Southern Mesas, Mygeeto
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Amur | Madelyn Lowe | Jyon Hlervu | Aerarii Tithe | Sith Empire forces
Enemies: Imperial Warlord Zovesa | Hunter Blackburn | New Imperial Order forces | Open for a fight
Gear: Listed in Character Bio
Theme
Immediate Objective: Push the attack on bridge B

Mid shot a sidelong glance at Amur as she made her comment, releasing a scoff. "I can promise you my performance is just fine, Knight." he quipped with a stern voice, though Amur would likely be able to tell it was part of the jesting. "Try not to faint and fall off the bridge again." he followed up with a smirk as he focused on the approaching forces.

She decided to take the fight to them and hopped over the barricade while Mid positioned himself on top of it. He made a good show to draw the fire to his position, allowing Amur to get in behind their lines. He didn't have a clue as to what her plan was, but he was curious to see what she wanted to achieve. After a few minutes, he noticed her lightsaber through the blizzard and gave a menacing smile. "Diogenes, shift your fire on the bridge the the back of their lines. Focus on any reinforcements and advancing troops and keep walking it forward as we advance." he ordered into his comlink and a few seconds later the AA-guns on the Diogenes shifted up and fired over the bridge to the forces behind it. While that was happening, Mid turned to look at the troops behind him. "CHARGE!" he roared and hopped over the barricade, summoning the force to his free right hand and releasing a stream of fire ahead of him.

The flames set enemy soldiers on fire but it also served to melt the ice ahead of him. Unlike his present company, he wasn't exactly equipped for front line combat. But he would make do. While he led the charge, the soldiers behind him followed with their blasters laying down suppressing fire.

In no time at all he caught up with Amur, charging like a beast with his massive saberstaff cleaving through any unfortunate unit in his way. He used the force to pick up an enemy unit and use him for a human shield while deflecting blaster bolts back to their origins. When his shield looked a little worn, he launched him at another soldier close to the side of the bridge to knock him over. "If we can take this bridge, can we go behind them and box them in? What does the terrain look like after this point?" he asked Amur over the carnage. His lightsaber droned heavily as he spun it like a plasma shield in front of him. His pace was slow and steady as he marched forward, using the fire from his troops as well as his ships to aid in the advance. Though he wasn't an idiot. He knew they could be ambushed or overwhelmed if their enemy was quick enough to react. He kept his wits about him and his senses open for surprises, occasionally throwing a glance at Amur to check on her as well.

He looked back ahead of him, a hard glare focused on his destination and any in his way. "Sith command, this is Darth Kados. Forces on Bridge Two is advancing forward. Enemy defences appear to be buckling." he reported over his commlink to the people in charge, making sure to use the secure channel from earlier. "Seems to be a good thing that I dropped in." he quipped as he glanced at Amur with a smile under his helmet.

 

[Melia Siari]

KING GHIDORAH THEME

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Sith-Imperial Armada - Muunilist

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Deployed Smallcraft

• 
  
  • "HIMS Imperial Fist" Autarch-class Siege Breaker
  • "HIMS Imperial Reach" Potentate-class Battlecruiser
  • "HIMS Imperial Will" Preventor II-class Interdictor Battlecruiser
• 
  
  • "HIMS Terror" Marr II-class Star Destroyer
  • "HIMS Pressure" Marr II-class Star Destroyer
  • "HIMS Order" Bajulator II-class Star Destroyer
  • "HIMS Ascension" Bajulator II-class Star Destroyer
  • "HIMS Dauntless" Tormentor-class Star Destroyer
  • "HIMS Ravager" Tormentor-class Star Destroyer
• 
  
  • "HIMS Redoubt" Harrower-class Cruiser
  • "HIMS Sharpshooter" Longbow-class Heavy Artillery Cruiser
  • "HIMS Vornskr" Longbow-class Heavy Artillery Cruiser
  • "HIMS Voxyn" Eradicator-class Heavy Cruiser
  • "HIMS Terentatek" Eradicator-class Heavy Cruiser
• 
  
  • "HIMS The Shamed" Hama-class Heavy Cruiser (Assault Frigate)
  • "HIMS Broken" Hama-class Heavy Cruiser (Assault Frigate)
  • "HIMS Beleaguered" Hama-class Heavy Cruiser (Assault Frigate)
  • "HIMS Unworthy" Whetu-class Frigate
• 
  
  • "HIMS Red" Exterminator-class Heavy Corvette
  • "HIMS Blue" Exterminator-class Heavy Corvette
  • "HIMS Black" Exterminator-class Heavy Corvette
• 
  
  • [x40 Squadrons] Scorpio-class Sith-Imperial Droid Starfighter - Deployed from HIMS Imperial Reach
  • [x20 Squadrons] Dominance-class Sith-Imperial Strike Fighter - Deployed from HIMS Imperial Fist

Location: HIMS Imperial Fist
Objective: Defend Muunilist
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Dracken Pryce

There was a fundamental understanding of naval warfare that separated those who became seasoned pilots and beyond from those men and women that were forever damned to the blood and dirt of the ground below. A soldier, a common one and even the generals that led them, envisioned their fields of war as one would look down at a map - a flat plane, perhaps with the occasional stroke of imagination that led them to recognize one could fly over or beneath a vessel rather than merely to its front and rear or sides. Generally speaking, that was where their creativity ended and their grid-obsessed strategy began - and she could respect that, the short period where she had been stationed on the ground had left her hopelessly frustrated with the physical limitations of warfare on the surface. Even the fighters that flew overhead were limited in how they could assault their targets, always restricted to firing from above, which restricted the crop of fighters and interceptors that could be used in-atmosphere for missions that did not involve engaging other fighters.

It was in space, in the true void and limitless expanse, that Melia and the rest of her kind - the men and women that were made for naval warfare - found their peace. To disregard a vector of attack due to a mere positioning of a ship was a death sentence when faced with the proper minds, for as long as there was a void to fly in there was room to maneuver. "Order the Longbows, both of them, to assemble on either side of the Imperial Fist. I want them rotated thirty-seven degrees in a forward position to our enemies, if they are above the Reach and the Fist I want the Longbows to fire on them from below with their central coil guns." The Zeltron ordered as her shuttle landed in the hangar of her command ship, the very ship she had ordered her cruisers, the longbows, to position themselves astride. She strode down from the exit ramp of her shuttle and continued on towards the turbolift that would bring her up to the floor of the sprawling vessel that held the bridge of the ship without an ounce of concern on her face, despite the circumstances the only sign that she felt the gravity situation was with the pace she strode - 'walk with purpose, carry a sense of urgency' her drill instructors had said, words that had been screamed, shouted, and whispered into her ears for far longer than than the time she had remained a cadet.

"Kometes Xolfos, it is time for the Imperial Reach to live up to its name. Disgorge your hangar, swarm the field." She said as she stepped into the turbolift that would lead her up to the tower that held the ship's bridge, speaking loud enough for her voice to be heard over her wrist communicator held at her side. "Trierarch Siari to bridge, this is your commanding officer - begin maneuvering to position beneath the Imperial Reach. Deploy the Strike Fighters from our hangar and position them to our rear, behind the command tower and pertinent points of vulnerability." Melia instructed as the doors to the turbolift shut behind her, having switched frequencies as she had ceased communications with the commanding officer of the Imperial Reach. Tapping a magenta finger to the device at her wrist, she again changed which flight crew she was communicating with. "This is Trierarch Siari to the bridge of the Beleaguered. Please position yourselves beneath the Imperial Fist. It will be your duty, Principales Fett, to earn the survival of your family by completing your service here. Defend the command vessel from assault below and snare those that come too close with tractor shrouds. If I live to see the end of this battle, provided we emerge victorious, I will ensure that your family is freed from their imprisonment and that you receive your pardon - as well as the honor that was stripped from you by your clan's betrayal to the Empire."

There was a certain smugness to her tone, an icy air of superiority, as she relayed her message to the Mandalorian Captain that sat at the bridge of his ship. Like the rest of the frigates that numbered her flight group, the Captain of the Beleaguered was one of many Mandalorians that had been in the service of the Imperial Armada when the rogues had invaded Moridinae and incurred the wrath of the Emperor for the part their clans had played in the insubordination that nearly cost the Empire their coveted trophy. Like the rest of the Mandalorians that had not belonged to clans deemed loyal to the Empire, he and the rest of these men and women had been labeled wanted criminals - it was only her cunning words and influence that had persuaded her superiors to allow them to earn their survival and recover their sense of honor by providing the Empire with their service. This was merely but one of many ways that the newly promoted Trierarch had asserted herself as someone not to be trifled with - she would suffer herself no political foe within the Armada, and the only result one could hope to find from a power play against her was to end up like the Mandalorians that made up her flight group.

Beneath her feet.

"To all other officers without orders, enter a crescent formation with the Imperial Fist as your center. Fire upon any vessels that stray too near - but do not deploy hangars unless they are under my orders." She said, the door to the turbolift opening at last - the corridor that would lead her to the bridge of the vessel now presented before her.

"It is time that the Empire strikes back."

 

[Dracken Pryce]

Directly Engaging: Melia Siari
Allies: The Galactic Alliance | New Imperial Order
Objective: Take the Skyhook and High Port Space Center
Location: Muunilinst Orbit
Mood: Tense​

Galactic Alliance Navy - 3rd Sector Fleet Muunilinst Assault Group

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Fighters In Play

• 
  
  • ANV Starchild II - Colony II-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Agni Kai - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Indullible 6 - Redeemer-Class Battlecruiser
  • ANV Omachron - Starhawk-Class Battleship
  • ANV Freedom - Starhawk-Class Battlleship
  • ANV Gleipnir - Starhawk-Class Battleship
• 
  
  • ANV Hyperion - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
  • ANV Guardian - Nebula II-Class Star Destroyer
• 
  
  • ANV Lylek - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Paradice Dawn - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Star Opal - MC140c Scythe-Class Main Battle Cruiser
  • ANV Hawk-Bat - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
  • ANV Blue Bantha - REC-AU01 "Prosecutor" - Class Planetary Assault Ship [Fighter Config]
• 
  
  • Small Handful of Light Cruisers
• 
  
  • REC-CC01 "Avalon" - Class Corvettes
  • TXS Vandal-class Corvettes
  • REC/GS-01 “Nimbus” - Class Gunships
  • Warrior II - Class Gunships
• 
  
  • T-90 X-Wings [Wildcat Squadron]
  • V-Wings
  • R-Wings
  • Y-Wings

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the Blue Bantha - Engineering

Jones loved machines. He loved them almost as much as he loved a good beer, and for those that knew Jones that was saying a lot. He was an engineer and he was an old one at that. Old-Head was what the rest of his crew called him on account of him always rambling about the "old days" and old battles he'd fought in that nobody was really sure he'd even been in. A lot of personnel records were lost in the Core over the last few decades. When a new government sprang up and was able to find an old cache floating off in deep space somewhere it was always a celebrated thing, but Jones had never shown up in those caches and so as far as anyone knew, Jones' service record started with the Blue Bantha.

"Listen, you think this battle is somethin' Let me tell you about-" The ship rocked, throwing the old man off his feet and into one of the G5 astromechs that was rolling around engineering. Claxons started blaring in the old man's ears sending him back two decades aboard the Vanguard. The axial Sith Annihilator cannon and cracked her open like a nut and they were falling, falling down towards Coruscant. Except they weren't falling towards Coruscant, they were just falling, because there was no ground in space. He felt himself get hauled up by familiar, furry paws. The rough roar of a Wookie reminded him where he was. This was HIS team and HIS ship and he wasn't going to let it go down. Not again, and definitely not this early.

"C'mon Gwur, help me get this reactor back online! We need power to the engines or we're just waiting for a second hit like that!"

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the Blue Bantha - Bridge

"Starboard deflector is completely fried, sever hull damage to sector six, reporting multiple breaches. The blow sent a power surge through Engineering, they're trying to get our engines back online. Hangar deck 8 is reporting several casualties and total loss of the gunships. Pilots and crew included." The Captain of the Blue Bantha chewed the inside of her right cheek. How did they take such a violent hit from so far away? They were lucky it hadn't been a direct hit or they would have lost their entire hangar. She couldn't risk a loss of that magnitude, especially with the fighter dump they'd just laid out for them. She slammed her fist into the arm of the command chair.

"Scramble all remaining fighters, we need to disgorge until we aren't dead in the water. Let the others know we'll be relying on them for refuel and re-arm support."

Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the ANV Starchild II

"That's...A lot of fighters." And Garvey wasn't wrong. That was the most fighters he'd seen dumped onto a battlefield at once in his entire career but to be fair, he'd heard read that during the ancient Clone Wars using swarms of droid fighters like these was at once both a psychological attack and the only way there were really useful. Swarm tactics. They attacked you like a nest of angry wasp-worms and they may have just kicked the largest nest he'd ever seen. They were slowly moving into position. Turbolasers bolts were glancing harmlessly off of their shields, though the attacks were impeding their progress. At this range, they were both just throwing pebbles at the gates that were their shields. He suspected though, that the minute he switched to long-range turbolaser fire they'd have their win.

The fleet was almost in position when a sound picked up on the Starchild's aural sensors made his stomach lurch. Coil gun. It was a weapon not often seen in naval combat. Far too expensive and impractical for all-rounder ships that were popular nowadays, but still incredibly deadly. It targeted completely ignored ray shields and hammered particle shields hard, harder than what most vessels are ever looking to face. A bright flash off to their port side lit up the darkened bridge and CIC. He watched, mouth hanging open as the carrier Blue Bantha began to cascade into the inky black of space, smoke rising from its hangar and its engines sputtering. As if to confirm, the blue triangle that had represented the Blue Bantha on the holotable began to flash yellow. That was good. Yellow meant they were still likely operational. Guns, engines, and fighters, that's what he needed the most and as long as they could deliver on at least two of those they were an asset. Garvey turned to him from monitoring the table. He bowed his head as if listening intently to something that only he could hear.

"We've got a message from the Blue Bantha's captain. Almost a direct hit on their hangar bays. They're asking us to make some room for their fighters until they can get back up and running again. No casualty report yet." That was the worst part, having to format those letters home. He wondered how the Alliance would format it this time around. 'Sorry, your son/daughter/child died fighting for the Empire.' He scowled. It was obvious their Commander was trying to keep them within range of the autocannons. But she wasn't the only one with long-range weapons. In fact, until a moment ago he'd assumed he would be the one sniping from a distance. He looked over at the crew put to his left.

"Lieutenant-Commander Corrick, order your long-range crews to target the vessel that just nearly cracked the Blue Bantah in two. Garvey, relay similar orders to all of our vessels with Long-range turbolasers. Make sure our commanders are staying aware of those coil guns. I don't want to see another hit like that on any of our ships."

"And the fighters?" Those droids were a problem. But even if they matched squadron for squadron they'd still outnumber Alliance fighters by double.

"Com Commodore Satou, and the Hawk-Bat. We need them to dump their fighters. Order the gunships to join the fray though and get those droids off our fighters' backs." Firing solutions were run down from Garvey to the gunnery crews. The massive guns rotated to face the fleet they were rushing to meet. The barrels on these heavy turbolaser batteries were much longer and wider than standard heavy turbolasers. They had nearly triple the range and double the power of your standard turbolaser, which meant death from afar. The Starchild was done peppering the Sith. All that had been doing was cautioning them from advancing too quickly. But where Pryce had kicked the proverbial worm-hornet nest with his pebbles, the shot on the Blue Bantha had awakened a Bloodfin from its slumber, no a pack of them, because the Starchild wasn't alone. Long-range fire rained down on the Sith Fleet from the cadre of Alliance Battlecruisers.

Muunilist Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Wildcat Squadron
Assigned to Supercarrier Starchild II

When Wildcat 3 had dropped out of hyperspace and he'd seen the massive battlecruisers slugging it out and the fighters slugging it out in close quarters knife fights he'd thought then that there would be no way anything short of a frigate could cut a hole in the Sith's fighter screens. The strange reverse-arrowhead shapes of the new Sith droid starfighters were getting closer and closer, their red photoreceptor laden heads popping up every once in a while to survey their situation and acquire new targets. But then the vessel designated "Flag 1" by his Alliance command disgorge its fighters. The droids moved like a swarm, flying through his squadron like a swarm of rabid locusts. They hadn't fired - yet. They had just passed them by, though the anguished cry of Wildcat 2 told him she'd lost her astromech. Or rather, the Pamarthen pilot had told them that in as many colorful words as possible.

"Steady Wildcats, they're just trying to scare us," came the calming voice of the Twi'lek pilot Wildcat 4.

"Tell that to G5! I'll miss the little guy,"

"Bandit on your six Wildcat 3!" The call-out came from Wildcat 6. Instinctively Cubs tried to trick the fighter into crashing into one of the oncoming droid fighters, but the pilot dodged and weaved like nothing he'd ever seen before. A stream of blaster fire cut off the pursuit though, the pilot pulling off to avoid ramming into the tracked fire. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders as Wildcat Leader spun up from his daring rescue and flew in beside the rookie pilot.

"Keep your eyes open Cub," the squadron commander said over the com before addressing the group as a whole. "Call just came in. Change of plan Wildcats! Admiral wants to take out Flag 1's siege cannons. Priority Bounty. Reform on me, Diamonds." A whoop came over the com from what sounded like WIldcat 6.

"Bounty baby! Zeltros here I come!" The fighters followed through, forming the four points of a diamond formation in their groups of three. They dove into the chaos and Cub felt his stomach turn when he saw what they were heading into.

"Watch that point defense fire!" Bolts of green and red energy flew at them from below as the heavy cruiser pounded away at them. They had a group of droid fighters between them and the cruiser though. Lucky for Cub the fragile things lit up with a few well placed shots. Their shields were barely rated for interstellar debris it seemed like as they were ripped to pieces by his cannons.

"Like shootin' fish in a-"

"Jace you've got one on your-" The two Wildcat pilots cut out at the same time, bright flowers of purple smoke and fire taking the place of where their fighters had been.

"Bandits comin' from on high!"

"Fire's too hot. We gotta break off!" The squadron split from their formation, naturally falling into dogfights with the strike fighters that had also joined the fray. Despite the chatter going on and his friends calling for him to pay attention he couldn't stop his gaze from lingering on the smoking debris that had been his squadron mates. His astromech was squealing at him now too as the proximity alarm for a lock became more and more urgent. He snapped back into his seat too late. The missile was fired. He fired his chaff hoping upon hope that the missile would just veer off, but his anxiety about his now certain death had timed it too soon. This was it. He clenched his teeth and waited for the fire...But it never came. Instead, he felt the concussion missile explode behind him, sending him forward in his crash webbing as his rear deflectors took the brunt of the blast. A second later the pair of droid fighters that had been on his tale went up in a fiery explosion. A frustrated sigh escaped the rookie's lips. Saved twice in one launch and they hadn't even been out but twenty minutes.

"This is Nimbus gunship Kakarot, looks like you flyboys could use a little help!"

 

[FN-999]

OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE HIGH-PRIORITY TARGET
ALLIES: Belisarius | Irveric Tavlar (CO)| Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Sturit Goan | Other NIO Forces
OPPOSITION: TSE Forces
ENGAGING: Mazrim Caide/Taim
EQUIPMENT: IN SIGNATURE, AS WELL AS SBR-60x BATTLE RIFLE
PLATOON COMPOSITION: 34/50

The bolts from his rifle swerved around the man, flung harmlessly away.
​

FN-999's shock evaporated as he quickly realized what had caused his bolts to miss. Some manner of particle shield had been put in front of him, deflecting the impact. The good news is that it did not seem to come from the man, instead coming from a female a few meters behind him. Before he could lock his rifle on her, she had fled and exited firing range. Since the man he faced was within meters of him, he rapidly lowered his rifle, attached it to his belt pouch, and drew his baton. With his element of surprise compromised, FN-999 now faced the full attention of his opponent, who seemed to have serious destructive potential. Multiple corpses were scattered nearby, almost all from his Imperial comrades. These skilled commandos all seemed to have fallen to this singular man, who resembled a common mercenary but clearly packed a serious punch.

Bloody hell, who is this person?

"You're just like all the rest. Look around you, all the dead and burned corpses, the twisted steel and blood soaked stone. that is your 'progress'. I am your death kid. I hope you think this was worth it."

"You are as misguided as you are naive." stated FN-999 solemnly, his voice calm and collected. "Calamity is a result of all war, and this is no different. Only by forcing our will upon the galaxy can true progress be guaranteed. Prepare to meet your end, you treasonous rabble."

Before FN-999 could strike, the man had already begun to move. Closing the distance between them in seconds, he drew a combat knife and thrust it downwards. As FN-999 moved his baton to intercept, the knife curved towards his exposed neck. That was when everything became clear.

In his training as a riot trooper for the First Order, FN-999 had always stood out for his proficiency with the baton. Consequently, he had been taken to advanced courses more akin to fencing after his basic riot training had ended. In his course, he had been taught to predict the trajectory of an opponent's blade based on their arm and facial movements, which could eventually lead to total memorization of an enemy's sword form. It had taken him one brutal year to become proficient in such a technique, but it had been invaluable since then. FN-999's rapid reflexes combined with the mindset of a skilled swordsman now allowed him to swing his baton up at the most opportune moment.

The knife collided with the middle of FN-999's riot baton, swung in front of his jugular in the blink of an eye. A second later, FN-999 activated the uncharged baton, sending an electric current up the entire blade. Using the baton and his legs as leverage, he slid about a meter away from the man. Fortunately, the ground in the area was relatively even, so he would not have to worry about constantly shifting to properly align himself with the floor. Instead, he took the time to analyze his opponent's form. He fought with a knife, and had attempted a feint on FN-999. Otherwise, FN-999 had no clue what his enemy's melee technique or his experience was. The only clear assumption he could make was that the foe he was facing had a different skillset than any Sith grunt he had ever encountered.

"Impressive, but insufficient." stated FN-999 mockingly. "My turn."

The trooper bolted forwards, riot baton activated and flowing with electricity. Slowing his dash about half a meter away from his adversary, he lunged forward and struck. He rose his baton above his head before striking downwards towards the top of the man's head in a brutal uppercut, using his superior strength in an attempt to force one of two responses out of his adversary. The man could either expend a significant amount of energy blocking the blow, or he could dodge the blow and force himself out of a viable position. Either way, the response would allow him to analyze his enemy's competency further and formulate a counterstrategy.

​

 

[Commander Larkin]

Location: Munnilist
Post: 1
Enemies: TSE
Tags: Ryv Lucien Dooku

​

These were the moments that Larkin lived for. He thrived in the fog of war and had been looking forward to getting a taste of that rush during this battle. Larkin had served under Lucien Dooku for a while now. He knew that the prince was a skilled commander and trusted him. Frankly, there was no one he would rather be dropping into this warzone with. Crest had their orders and Larkin was going to be damned if he was going to start adding losses to the books now.

He sat in the transport, running the final check of all his gear and armor as well as loading cartridges into his DC-15S blaster followed by his dual DC-17 sidearms. After that, he did a quick check of his speeder. As he did that, he listened to the interaction between the sergeant and Lucien before the doors of the transport opened. In that moment, time seemed to stop and it was almost as if everything around Larkin had fallen silent so much so that one could hear a pin drop. Almost instinctively, he shouted to the rest of his men; "Go, go!" and just like that, his speeder joined the sea of others on their quick descent down to the surface. On his way down, he found himself weaving between a couple of fighters and blaster bolts. Eventually, he made it all the way down along with the rest of Crest Section and Ryv 's forces.

Once on the ground, Crest Section formed up behind Lucien Dooku with Larkin flaking him slightly to the left. Suddenly, as if removed from the trance he had found himself in before, the sound of war raging around him shattered the silence that had engulfed him during his freefall to the ground. He heard Lucian's rallying cry not long after the troops had gotten into formation. Larkin followed up over the comms, "You heard him men; give these nerf herders hell!" With near surgical precision, Crest began to engage hostile forces as they continued to race along in their speeders, sending debris and blaster bolts flying everywhere. Larkin reached down with his right hand and pulled out his sidearm, aiming it forward and followed Lucien's lead, continuing to charge along.

 

[Tessa]

Location: Streets of Harnaidan w/ Shatter Squad
Objective: Capture Economic Tower Resata
Allies: Sam Deckard | Wraith
Enemies: Open
Thematic Music: Danger - 4h30
Gear: Body | Armor in Digital Urban Camo | Rifle | Pistol | Knife | 1 Smart Grenade

The whirring of her rifle finally stopped and the rest of the squad came in. There'd only been half a dozen soldiers in the rear room, but the hallway was a bit more crowded. It led out to the main lobby of the first-floor bank, and she was positive there were more soldiers in there because they fired off a pop shot every once in a while. They never got close to her as she sidled up against the wall and switched out power packs on her weapon so she'd be good to go again. The tower was liable to have a good deal more troops in it, though she expected most were on the first floor.

As the others formed up, Lenses had his hand against the side of his helmet, indicating he was listening to something. He was their designated radio man since his role was ranged shooting and it meant he could hang towards the rear and listen while the rest of them did the heavy lifting. If they were a bigger unit, they'd have had a dedicated radioman, but apparently the Lieutenant didn't want one.

"Sir," Lenses said, tapping the Lieutenant on the arm as they clustered on either side of the hall. "I'm getting chatter from RDAG Three that they're down and under heavy fire. Nearest I can tell, they're deeper in the city and we're one of the nearest units."

The Lieutenant didn't immediately respond but seemed to be thinking as he held up a finger for Lenses to wait. He pulled out a piece of flimsi and examined it until he seemed satisfied and put it back.

"Send them a quick message that we are TIC and will get to them asap."

Lenses nodded and checked their position before opening communication to Sam Deckard and Wraith .

<RDAG Three this is Shatter Actual. Confirmed you are enjoying a soup sandwich. We are TIC at target location. Will expedite and advance to your position asap. How copy?>

A grenade came bounding down the hallway at that point. Tessa was lucky enough to see it in time and kicked it back down the hall. It blew up seemingly harmlessly, except it kicked up a shower of debris that seemed as though it would be beneficial to their position. The Lieutenant must have agreed because he tapped Repp to proceed forward. Tessa fell in after him with the Lieutenant behind her. Gunt and Lenses pulled up the rear, with the latter keeping tight listen to the comms for confirmation from the troops that had gone down deeper inside the city limits. If they were going to make this work they needed to make contact at the same time as they cleared out their objective.

They checked each door as they passed, making sure no one was lying in wait to pop them from behind, but everything was clear or it was a turbolift. They cleared the debris field and took fire as soon as they did. Repp was the first take hits. The first couple of which didn't do much but graze his armor, but then he took two shots square to the head and dropped to the floor unmoving.

"Shit! Repp is Tango Uni!" Tessa called as she leveled two Sith soldiers with her rifle before ducking behind cover long enough to get her bearing.

Once she had, she darted out, grabbed Repp, and drug him off to the side and out of harms way. Gunt was their designated corpsman, so as he went to work, and Lenses and the Lieutenant ducked to cover, she popped up over the wall to lay down some covering fire. Enemy troops dove for cover and she made out at least three full squads trying to pincer their position. A stair on their right lead to an exposed balcony above them and it seemed likely that more waited for them there.

"Gunt!" the Lieutenant called. "Sitrep!"

"He's expectant, sir!"

"Damnit! Private, you're on point! Gunt, take the right side, and hit them with explosives but don't blast that stair! Lenses, we'll flank left and cut off their pincer!"

A chorus of copies resounded, and Tessa stood to lay down more covering fire as everyone began to move.

Repp lay dead at her feet.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

Location: Muunilinst
Objective: Defend The Empire | Kill All Enemies
Equipment:

• Hinged Double-bladed Sith Lightsaber
• Saziliebm-type Imperious Battle Armor
• Jen'Shuk'Orok - The Dark Crushgaunt

Tags: Allyson Locke | Wyatt Morga
Music: Anakin vs. Obi-Wan

---

​

Scarlet smashed against cerulean, a burst of color showing both of them with violet sparks as their weapons collided. The Jedi allowed himself to slip beneath the blade, the two weapons sliding along one another's length as the Emperor instinctively pivoted his body around in the direction his blade was still traveling without any opposition. The other end of his weapon spun around while the Emperor elevated both of his arms up to a higher level while he turned, and the slash that could have severed his arm right at the socket scraped across the alchemical back plating of his armor. It was then caught and briefly held by the blade that had been honing it for an attack as he spun around, again holding the Jedi's weapon in place for a brief moment. The Emperor attempted to slash across the Jedi's blade with another quick movement, but the Grandmaster had danced away from him before he could do so.​

​

In a blink of an eye, the projectile launched by the other Jedi struck him square in the chest; which would have been the middle of his back had he still be turned the other way before the Grandmaster snuck under him. The explosion briefly obscured the Dark Lord in smoke and billowing flame, only the brilliant light of his weapon cutting through the choking smog. Then a hand burst free from the smoke aimed in the direction that Allyson had run towards, the ruined building where their fight hand began. Dark energy coalesced in his palm, expulsed in a tight straight beam of solid energy that detonated violently when it had connected with the interior of the ruined home. A vast explosion engulfed what had remained of the home, black and purple flames rushing out from the epicenter to douse it utterly. Stone vitrified as metal wilted under the heat.​

​

Then the smoke around the Emperor began to clear, the Dark Side of the Force swelling exorbitantly around him. He breathed in deeply of the smoke and fire, "Can you feel it, Jedi? The Dark Side is strong today... So much suffering, so much death... It's like an adrenaline shot to the heart, but I imagine it must be quite stifling for the both of you." He lowered his arm, again gripping the hilt of his weapon with both hands. "Let us see what new death your tribulations will bring, Master Locke." He then bellowed forth a roar of triumphant rage and launched himself towards the two Jedi Masters just as Wyatt rushed forward to meet him. The onset of violence was quite explosive, the Emperor's blade flashing back and forth in his unyielding rage. Though the weapon was large, the Emperor wielded it with such speed that it dazzled the senses. With minimum movement, he was able to levy both blades against the Jedi Master in rapid succession. ​

​

Some called this style Juyo, Form VII, the Ferocity Form. Aggressive and unpredictable, the style was most effective when the user drew upon their negative emotion to fuel each and every movement. The Dark Lord of the Sith was a wellspring of negativity, hate and anger exuding from his heart in near equal measure with sorrow, jealousy, and even fear. Every strike he made was meant to be a killing blow, he was holding nothing back as he fought the two Jedi Masters with barely restrained fury. To the untrained eye, he was a wild berserker, his attacks seeming to contain little connectivity with one another. But to those who had studied the forms, he was the epitome of Juyo; the embodiment of ferocity itself.​

​

He was Sith.​

​

But the weapon he carried was not just a solely offensive weapon, the twin blades allowed him to use it defensively as well. Knowing the position of one blade informed him of the position of the other, and he used this knowledge to plan both attack and defense accordingly. He caught Wyatt's blade before it could dig into the meat of his knee, and he held him there with his blade as he looked down at the Jedi Master's face. "The Empire will survive, Master Jedi, in one form or another. You fail to understand what lengths will be taken to deny you your prize. Though I am surprised that you proved to be so gullible, who do you think helped me to bring such death and destruction to the galaxy?" The Emperor smirked darkly, "I would look to those you call comrade, Jedi. You are being played for a fool."​

​

The Emperor shoved against Wyatt, attempting to push him back and perhaps even knock him off balance. His right hand lashed out this time, tendrils of dark crimson electricity spiraling out from his fingertips to lance through the air with the intent to enrapture the Grandmaster in a web of lightning and pain.​

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

​

Location: Outskirts of Harnaidan
Task: Objective One - Battle for Muunilinst
---

The initial gusto and the entire idea of "kicking ass and taking names" faded from Dorn-2 nearly from the moment that they outset from their wreck. Their newly field promoted lead, despite the obvious drive and adrenaline that was pumping through his entire being, moved with a half-kiltered limp from the rod that had pierced his calf. He was nearly certain that something important had been tore through, but that was something that could be properly dealt with after the battle. Moving from the desolate gunship proved to be a task of pure luck, as it was. There was little to not cover besides the other shards of collapsed vessels and random rocks scattered about the rather flat fields that lead up to Harnaidan. The city itself, outside of the scars of war, proved to be rather enchanting, or as enchanting as an urban hellscape could be. Large, sweeping rows of buildings that were constructed before the Sith Empire ever dared to step foot on the Muun colony, ages before even the Galactic Empire had stretched an extended reach into the region. Some would say even before the Old Republic, though dating proved to be difficult. The architecture, by it's nature, was opulent in a senatorial fashion. Imposing in a graceful manner. Large pillars dominating the most impressive buildings, clawing their way as far as they could into the post-dawning blues of the sky. The skyline itself was varied in size, as if zoning laws were hardly a concern, one building stretching here, another cut off just shortly before there, it was a poorly constructed staircase by design. Despite that, it was distinctive, and something that Ravraa wished he could have seen before the conflict. Now, there were shelling marks throughout the fields. Entire rows of buildings were daring to spark with flame. Smoke foundering from random sections of the expanse. The constant whine of blaster fire and the background distress of an uncountable amount of combatants attempting to find some purchase. There were Sith-Imperial Holdouts on the edges of the city, but thankfully, the squad had been missed by and large. Many of them stood as preoccupied with other New Imperial forces or were being called back to deal with the gunship that lost itself between the forest of durracrete.

<”Hellhound Actual to Private Brambles, do you read? Can you see the blue smoke? We're just north, check the map. We got sights now.”> ​

As they moved, there was a moment of harsh static breaking through inside of Ravraa's helmet. For a brief moment, he thought that his comms systems had given in. He was lucky enough that they had managed to even troop through the crash, he figured it would be his luck that they give out now. However, he reached up and gave his bucket two sharp wraps, as if he was knocking on a heavy oaken door, and the harsh fuzz of white noise died out, simmering to a message from an all too familiar voice. The Torgruta smiled wide underneath his helmet, his sights going high to the horizon in front of them. The smoke plume was a grace to the troopers, slowly drifting and dancing with the breeze. Thankfully, they had already been making pace in the general direction of the signal. They were hoping to find some encampment of friendlies in order to buckle down and deal with those in the squad that would require some form of medivac, though he was unsure of the status of the AA guns that had taken him from the air. Friendly comms, either from distance or disconnection, had been shockingly quiet. Though, he had spent the better part of the assault tumble-drying inside of a metal jailhouse.

<"Read you Hellhound Actual, sights on. Dorn-2 moving to your position. We have injured and will require medivac. Godspeed, Commander."> Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

Ravraa turned his head, shifting his body slightly before going as far as to turn around, he was intending to jog backwards as he delivered the news, but the sharp pain morphed the rotation into a lurching stumble-step, regaining his footing, with a chuckle sounding from somewhere in his squad, he finally spoke up.

<"Commander Voi'kryt just popped some smoke for us, boys. We link up, we get Jeresan out of here,"> There was a tinge of pain to his voice when the name came. <"after that, we see where the lady sends us. Hopefully, it's straight down that highway with guns blazing.">

There seemed to be an extra pep inside of the squad as they moved after receiving the news, even the Medic, ladled with the unconscious body of Jeresan, seemed to get and extra step in his pattern. Moving with a confidence that there was a way out of their current situation. There was an discomfort when it came to high stress, live or die situations, you never truly registered exactly how serious it is in the moment. At least for Ravraa, instead of dwelling on the seriousness or how close they could be to the entire squad being KIA, he focused on solutions to moment to moment problems. Kept him from falling too far into existentialism. Managed to allow him to keep his head clear, on the mission, on his task. It was one of the few things that kept him calm in this moment, it was one of the few reasons why his breathing was matching the pace he would use for a jog around his garden back home. It was just another moment, another situation life had thrown at him, either he solved it or he would be vanished into the ethereal depths of history.

The snap-crack came moments after his optimism had reached that high. The bolt wasn't seen, it must've been one of the few moments none of the troopers had been keeping an eye on the army of buildings, it must've been one of the few time that any of them had dared to give themselves any proper sense of hope. The medic, taking two steps that were simply registered before he realized he was dead, stumbled and collapsed, the scent of charred flesh instantly tinging the air as a score mark cindered on the side of his helmet. Jeresan brought the man down on the ground faster, staying collapsed onto his shoulders, his rifle rolling in the brush.

<"Sniper, get down!"> Came the nearly instant reaction, Ravraa slamming his body against the grassed dirt as another round screamed just above where he was moments before. The rhythmic thumping as the rest of the squad followed. Another bolt slammed into the dirty between Ravraa and one of the other troopers. Eyes strained against the silver and grey sea in front of them, trying to earn any form of understanding on the location of the shots. Another round, slamming inches away from a trooper that was making his way to the downed medic.

<"Thavimar, stay low, damnit!"> Barked Ravraa, one of the man's comrades reaching over and tugging him over. The men doing what they could from their utterly suppressed position. There was no visible cover for what seemed like miles. The troopers kept themselves low, trying to dig into the dirt, hoping the tall grass would give them enough cover, occasionally they would roll and shift. Another round. It vanished into the greenery not far from the right of Ravraa, earning a scream from an unseen form and a series of expletives in a language unknown to the Togruta.

<"Center city, off right five clicks, dome roof! Middle floors!"> Dormyle, the man who grabbed Thavimar, called out.

<"Light him up!"> Came the command as Ravraa shouldered his carbine, awkwardly shifting as he attempted to get a decent sightline. He figured it didn't matter much, this felt more as if it was for show. His thumb flicked over the fire select, falling to auto. The trigger fell and the kick instantly bucked into Ravraa's shoulder. He was prone, however, and well trained. The kick was mitigated, despite the barrel wanting to scratch upwards. He fired in short burst, sending blurbs of red into the distance as did the rest of his squad. Six carbines trained roughly on the snipers position, putting on a lightshow for the building as rounds shuttered out of blasters. Slamming into glass and kicking up stone dust, threatening the actual craftsmanship more so than the constantly relocating gunman.

Meanwhile, for the sniper proper, the rounds simply slammed far and wide from his position. Peppering the building, but far from being an actual threat he would have to worry about. He sat down the thermos he was taking a long take from, wiped his mouth, before settling back into his Gewehr. A bolt in return slammed through the glass of the scope the moment he settled his eye onto it, snapping through the glass before burrowing into the gunman's head, sending his neck snapping back and his body falling from his chair.

There was a moment, two, and then three where the squad didn't receive any return rounds to their hellstorm. Slowly, ever so slowly, each of their carbines came to a gradual stop as they waited for the shot. It never came. The jubilation was nearly instant, Ravraa bringing himself to stand on his knee, punching into the air as the rest of the squad jostled one another. Even a celebratory round was blasted off into the air by Dormyle.

"<Whoever scorched 'em deserves a medal!>" Ravraa would say, caught in his revelries. He hardly noticed the rest of the squad had gone quiet as he turned around. Standing not a couple steps away, leaning against an extended rifle, was Jeresan, who offered a nod to the Togruta and a lazy two finger salute off of the brim of his scout-helmet. If he would have had the time, or if he was certain it wouldn't have shattered the man's tossed form, Ravraa would have hugged him then and there.

<"That'd be you, innit?"> Ravraa would finish, tapping the receiver of his carbine against his shoulder. In the edges of his vision, he made note of Thavimar, kneeling over the corpse of the medic. Ravraa had never even managed to get the man's name, much less thank him for his service. He didn't want to draw attention to the grieving man, he simply wanted to give him his moment of quiet, his moment of solace. It passed, not soon, not long, but it passed. Thavimar would stand, rifle slung in his grip looser than before, and would give a nod to Ravraa.

Turning on his heel, he'd give a wave, and once again, Dorn-2 would be on the march. Making pace to the blue smoke that signaled some form of hope.

Again, Ravraa would pop onto comms.

<"Private Bramble, Dorn-2 squad. Making our way to the blue smoke, squad got pinned. Making time now. Should be there within the hour.">

 

[Belisarius]

// AIRBORNE TASK FORCE "HELLHOUND" //
// FLANK SITH-IMPERIAL DEFENCES ON HARNAIDAN //
// HOTEL ARAD, THIRD AVENUE, HARNAIDAN; BEHIND ENEMY FRONT LINES //
// CALLSIGN: HELLHOUND-TWO //
// NIO // Irveric Tavlar Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt FN-999 Sturit Goan Sam Deckard Wraith Ursula Vizla
// TSE // OPEN

CLIFFS OF GALLIPOLI​

The Captain had ordered minimal counter fire citing waste of ammo and the logistical issues they were facing; with the front line's push slowed down more than expected, Gladius Company and the rest of Airborne Task Force "HELLHOUND" were between the hammer and the anvil. They couldn't last long but holding this position was of vital importance to the overall plan of conquering Harnaidan; yet, what had been plaguing the Captain the most was the transmission he had received from Tempest-Seven - two stormtroopers lost further north deeper into enemy lines.

Odds of survival - less than zero.

Among the occasional fired shots from one building to another, the floor of the hotel on which Belisarius had formed a temporary HQ for his unit's operations eerie silence was king. Atop a nearly broken bureau he had laid out his datapad from which holoprojections of the plan, the city's map and the estimate location of all units as part of the campaign in near real time; the latter information was something attained thanks to the efforts of one Allyson Locke .

He shoved away the fate of the two stormtroopers lost somewhere further with no chance of survival and concentrated on his mission. The Imperator had to push enough so artillery could get into range, the airborne would paint their targets and sweep after the arty had done the greater damage. But the Imperator was late. The Sith-Imperial Legionnaires knew that it would be a matter of time before the New Imperials gained that vital inch and they knew they needed to flush the holed in Airborne stormtroopers, and Belisarius knew it was a matter of time before the Legionnaires did indeed flush them out.

The question was who had more time?

The Imperator's response did not bring great relief to the Captain but he knew better than to dispute his word and he believed this was all that he could spare given the situation back on the corpse-ridden front line. He gave them Darkstar Squadron, a squadron that nearly blew up it's own back on Krieg but he did not complain, he knew he was biased against the Starfighter's Corps ever since he first joined the army decades ago. Sgt. Vukic, himself, had taken the role as FAC and guided the fighters towards their payload's destination of delivery. He personally wanted to witness the fiery death of the Legionnaires who had murdered his comrades from their holed up positions. MICE, Vukic had growled.

The sound of explosion resounded all around silencing every other noise and shaking the ground that a few soldiers fell on their backsides. A flash as bright as a Tatooinian sun buried their vision for a few seconds as the Captain approached a reinforced window to see the effect. Darkstar were ascending back to the furthest heights of the sky leaving behind a trail of blazing destruction.

If Hell existed, this was it.

The whole northern semi-circle of tall and wide buildings overlooking dangerously their position at the hotel were ablaze. The screams of burning to death legionnaires would haunt him for the rest of his life but not today. Today, he felt a disgusting sense of justice and when the image of the father embracing his boy one last time forever back at their drop zone and the grotesque picture of thousands of corpses littering the killing grounds of the front line crawled into his mind, the Captain felt...satisfaction.

He swore the two lost stormtroopers, Tempest and Wraith, materialized in the inferno Darkstar produced. There, in the flames, the Captain saw the plague of regrets slithering at the back of his mind aiming to consume him till he drew his last dying breath.

"Agrippa, I need the location the nearest Sith-Imperial anti-air emplacement and the tallest building in that area of effect." Belisarius coldly ordered.

"Sir?"

"Do as I say, soldier."

"Yes, Sir." Lt. Agrippa nodded and tapped a few buttons on his forearm control panel before producing a holoprojection of an anti-air emplacement. "Two klicks north from here, Sir."

"Very well, order second platoon to get ready to move out - they are going out there to disable it, and open a line to Tempest-Seven. We are bringing those boys back."

"Sir?! We are already at halved strength, this will severely hamper our operational integrity to accomplish our actual mission he-"

"DO AS I SAY. SOLDIER!" Belisarius barked and the lieutenant backed off instinctively. The captain's hand had curled into a tight fist.

"As you command, Captain." the Lieutenant reluctantly obeyed and a line was open.

<"Tempest-Seven, this is Hellhound-Two. I am transmitting coordinates to an EVAC LZ. Top of the building, too hot for landing, you will need to hop in. We will disable the AA in the air to clear a flight path for the evac. On the double, soldiers."> he cut off the transmission and looked back at Agrippa.

"Something to say, Lieutenant?"

"No, Sir."

"Spill it, Agrippa."

"Second platoon are ready which leaves us with only one full platoon here, a consolidation of first and third...our chances are slim."

"You're going out with second platoon, Lieutenant. I need a capable man to lead them, a professional. I will remain here."

"But, Sir...that means-"

"I know what it means, go now. Give 'em hell, son."

Agrippa barely fostered strength to nod, saluted, turned and left to lead the second platoon out of the hotel and into the killing grounds north from here; all for the sake of two unlucky stormtroopers. Why? He didn't ask.

"Captain, got news from the Legion Commander Voi'Kryt." Sgt. Vukic stepped out from the window where he was admiring the smoldering retribution delivered by Darkstar. "A mercenary, one Ursula Vizla and her goons are nearby. Sent by the Commander for support."

"Very well." the Captain replied, paused and then curtly added. "Order the mercenary to stick with 2nd platoon and give them overwatch as they proceed north."

"Understood. Anything else, Cap'n?"

"Yes. Whatever explosive we've got left - rig the whole place up. We give the bastards nothing."

 

[Tyrell Paxxus]

New Imperial Invasion Fleet 'Hell Patrol' - Mygeeto

Battlecruisers Destroyers Cruisers Frigates Corvettes Support Craft / Fighters

• • EPITAPH II
  • Defiance-class Star Destroyer
• • 2x Praefect-class Star Destroyer
• • x4 Donnager-class Star Destroyer
• • x4 Corvus-class Frigates
  • x2 EF96 Nebulon-A Escort Frigate
• • x3 TXS Vandal-class Corvette
• • 10 Squadrons:
    TIE/HB Bruiser
  • 15 Squadrons:
    TIE/HF Slasher
  • 26 Squadrons:
    TIE/INx Interceptor
  • 14 Squadrons:
    TIE/OTx Outlander

// GRAND VIZIER //
// ABOARD THE EPITAPH II //
// HIGH COMMAND //
// Telis Taharin-Zambrano //

The fighting on Mygeeto felt like it could go on for years. The planet had proven even harder to crack than everyone initially expected. Days upon days with little more to do than watch the streaks of planetside artillery fire and orbital bombardment scream past each other, and wait for updates from the planetary surface. A monotonous slog of operational malaise. It could have been worse, Tyrell began to realize as he gazed upon the piercing white swath of swirled chaos in the atmosphere of Mygeeto that was the frost cyclone.

Tyrell was lucky enough to have a warm, comfortable, and far more secure place to sleep when compared to those below. It was times like these he was glad he chose the Navy. The Infantry was a vital part of this operation, and they'd receive the bulk of the glory, but Tyrell did not envy them. How could anyone envy the men who were forced the bare the elements of Mygeeto? It was a MOS that demanded respect given what it required, of course. But even in all of Tyrell's years, he couldn't understand why anyone would choose that over anything else. Someone had to do it, he supposed.

"Any report from below?"

"Yes Vizier Admiral, the battle on the bridges is still ongoing, but New Imperial forces are beginning to break through," The Lieutenant responded.

"Good. Sitrep?"

"Roughly forty-six percent of their ground-to-space artillery is still functional. We have three vessels in hyperspace retreat after taking heavy damage. But, all in all, we're giving them hell, Admiral."

"Very good," Tyrell gave a small nod and turned away from the Lieutenant and back to the viewport. It was back to more mind-numbing spectating of the orbital bombardment and artillery retaliation. The gunners had their orders, and there was little further involvement that the Grand Vizier could have. There was nothing to do now besides wait for a development, or an attack. Thus was the tedious grind of a planetary siege.

Nearly an hour of idle command had passed, the theater of flashing lights in front of the viewport raging on, unvaried, unyielding. It was then that an odd feeling crept up into the back of Tyrell's mind. A sensation from a plane beyond consciousness, an almost indescribable feeling of distance. Tyrell turned around, thousand-yard stare drifting around the bridge. The distance was decreasing, the feeling was beginning to close into a sense of metaphysical claustrophobia. He finally recognized this feeling, he'd experienced it many times before.

"Captain, full-face away from Mygeeto."

"S-sir?"

"Full-face."

The Epitaph II slowly began to pivot, its long, pointed bow steadily turning away from the frosty sphere of Mygeeto. Tyrell pivoted back to the viewport, locking his gaze through the glasteel windows and out into the speckled void beyond. When that inexpressible feeling began to seize his breathing like a weight on his chest, he knew what was coming. A small sample Sith-Imperial Armada suddenly snapped out of hyperspace like a taught rubber band. The giant durasteel monoliths contrasted viciously against the star-peppered backdrop of space.

The atmosphere in the bridge of the Epitaph II shifted on a dime as the officers and crew began to scramble around and shout orders, updates, and acknowledgments. Within moments small clouds of strike craft and gunships began to pour from the first corvettes that arrived.

"How did you know, Vizier Admiral?" The Captain asked in astonishment.

"Put our Corvus Frigates in the path of their strike craft, all supporting squadrons on full attack," Tyrell ordered, not wasting time to answer the captain's question. "All other vessels hold the orbital line and engage. All interceptors prioritize neutralization of the sub-atmospheric assault."

​

As the sirens in 'Hardwire Enigma' began to sound and the frigate advanced forward, Corporal Bastra was the first to his station. The frigate slowly crawled forward, breaking away from the orbital line to meet the incoming strike craft head-on. Bastra threw himself into the seat and pulled the lever on his left. The HUD lit up in an instant as the gunner station released and began to swivel and raise upwards.

The light clicking of his comm speaker was followed by orders from his CO; <"Bogeys approaching starboard, don't let them reach the line.">

"Wilco, boss."

The Corporal jerked the controls to the right, sending the guns and his station swiveling towards the starboard side of the ship. The HUD lit up with warnings and began to initate targeting procedures as the Sith-Imperial strike craft came into view. Emerald strokes of ordinance began to fly through the space around the ship in all directions. The empty vacuum of space becoming an acupunctured display of war.

The New-Imperial strike craft began to pour out of the frigate. They began their aerial dance of death alongside the enemy craft. Their jagged and looping movements mimicking a swarm of metallic insects fighting to protect their cold, metallic hive. The once still void around them quickly a torrent of lasers and debris.

With every shot the Corporal took, his station rumbled beneath the force of the guns. Shot after shot the seat rattled in place. The thick rays of death that shot out like javelins flew through the gaps between the fighters. Over and over the HUD lit up red with a locked target, and again and again the station kicked and rumbled as he fired. Slowly the strike craft began to fall on both sides, the spears of ionic carnage piercing one vessel after another.

"Huh-ha!" The Corporal shouted. "That's six bogeys down!"

The Corporal traced a fighter that had separated from its pack. The gun swung from the aft, along the port side, and towards the bow to line up a shot. As he brought the guns to face the bow, the sight of more Sith-Imperial ships emerging from hyperspace, this time Battlecruisers, was enough to make him lose track of the fighter.

"Oh shit."

Tyrell didn't even blink when the remainder of the Armada emerged from hyperspace. The first of the larger ship fire whizzed passed the bridge of the Epitaph II less than a few seconds later. The commotion in the bridge grew even louder than before now that the threat had drastically increased.

"Return fire," Tyrell said softly, his tone oddly distant.

The New-Imperial fleet began to unload. Viridescent bolts tore through the void from each line of ships. The Sith-Imperial armada seemed to waste no time in advancing, visibly hell-bent on breaking the line. The giant steel wedges inched closer and closer by the second, slowly growing larger against the empty backdrop of space.

"Pull the Corvus Frigates back to the front of the line. Maintain orbital line cohesion until eighty-thousand meters."

Odis sent his interceptor into a rolling maneuver to avoid incoming fire. A loud screech and pop from his left side startled him, sending his head jolting in that direction. His wing had been grazed, a long tail of black smoke billowed from the breached hull. He pushed the control sticks forward and performed a sudden dive, narrowly avoiding a second round of fire.

"This is Sentinel One Actual, I've been hit and bandits are on my tail. I'm lost in this karking cyclone. Requesting assist."

<"Roger that Sentinel One Actual, Castle Squadron is Oscar Mike to your aerial sector.">

Odis couldn't see a damn thing in this frost cyclone. Even in the highest region of Mygeeto's troposphere, the white haze was nearly impenetrable to the eye. Despite this, Odis flew as erratically as possible to try to shake the hostiles tailing him. The smoke from his wing was leaving a trail that was visible in this blizzard.

The loud screaming of TIE engines whizzed by, their origin obscured by the frigid, ivory fog. The HUD sensors picked up six objects fly overhead and circle around his six. "Caslte One, is that you?" Odis asked hopefully, leaning forward, trying to get a good look out the left side of the interceptor's viewport.

<"Negative Sentinel One, we're still Oscar Mike.">

"Acknowledged. I've got eight bandits on my tail, what's your eta?"

Odis didn't hear a response, only the sudden bursting explosion of his left ion engine. The craft quickly veered to the left as it began to plummet. He pulled backward on the control sticks, doing his best to regain control. A futile endeavor. Odis reached down for the ejection strap, hurriedly fumbling for a moment before managing to fasten it.

"This is Sentinel One Actual, I've lost an engine. Eject-"

On Caste One's side, the comms gave way into brief static before going silent. "Sentinel One?" The lack of response was confirmation enough of Odis' fate.

"Shavit boys, Sentinel Squadron is Tango Uniform."

Spoiler: Fleet Actions I Guess

Corvus-class frigates move forward with strike craft for area denial of opposing strike craft. Interceptor Squadrons descend into Mygeetos atmosphere to intercept the strike craft that breached the line.
Corvus-class frigates pull back to the front of the line when the rest of the armada shows up.
All other ships hold the orbital line and fire from a distance.

 

[Imperial Warlord Zovesa]

---

---

POST 2

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//MYGEETO //Objective 1: Battle in the Frost Cyclone // Sith Imperial Banking Clan Vaults At Southern Mesas//
//Location:// No Man's Land Bridge One
//Action:// Cover her recovering men // Charge forward and engage Sith Forces // Draw out Taeli Raaf
//Allies-in-Vicinity:// Cai-Lan Raeth , Jekadius Lawson , Hunter Blackburn
//Enemy RP Partner:// Taeli Raaf
//Enemies Near By:// Miko Evans Amur Darth Kados Madelyn Lowe Jyon Hlervu
//Accompaniment:// Imperial Force Corps Knights Battlegroup Aegis// LINK TO KNIGHTS BATTLEGROUP ORBAT [x]
//Equipment:// [LINK] //

---

---

Zip. Zap. Zip.

The sounds of enemy blaster rounds shrieked by the Force Corps Knights Battlegroup columns advancing up Bridge One behind tank cover. The bolts of heated laser fire bathed the whirling gales of snow in their radiating colors as they ricocheted off of the tank’s armor, impaled men, and scorched bridge plating. The barrage was constant and heavy. It came in waves that peppered the front line, decorating the bridge with battle’s souvenirs; carnage, corpses, blaster marks, and air burning screams. It was half way up the bridge that another bombardment came in.

“Marshal above us!” Someone shouted. “Force’s mercy it’s a ship! Our ships!”

Zovesa whipped her head up to see the large triangular prow of one of their Inceptus Assault Ships cleaving a fiery comet’s path through the Southern Mesas. Its flaming metal carcass acted as a massive torch, illuminating the miniature destruction about it as its own behemoth destructive aura dwarfed their localized devastation. The ship smashed into a set of towers, sending out a shockwave of sound before it imploded into a crumbling avalanche of destroyed ship sections and flaming debris. It rained brimstone and hellfire; bright flaming pellets of molten steel broken by the heat of the ship’s implosion showered the forces on the other bridges. Zovesa could not move. Shock, terror, and morbid awe had taken hold of her body. She could not look away, move, or think. All she did was vacantly stare as the fireballs dyed her blue skin pale with their lights.

The death of that leviathan ship had struck a dark prophetic shadow within her. It called to her. The old smothered darkness was howling in laughter. It mocked her. Jeered her, proclaiming confidently in the confines of her mind’s chains, “You cannot beat them without me. Give in! Unleash this fury! It shall save you.” Zovesa faltered for a moment. Her hand began to shake and the fire within, the soulful flame that kept her body and mind warm from the freezing siege, began to shrink into a candle’s flickering ember.

“In coming!” a trooper roared.

A gunship careened into their bridge. Snout first, it rammed into the edge of the bridge. The stabbing momentum crumpled the nose and sent the gunship into a forward roll. The spinning wreckage whirled onto the bridge. The forces that spun the gunship ripped a part its outer most appendages. The wings broke and flayed out, hanging by wires before those snapped setting it free. One wing was flung out at Zovesa’s column. The crash and flying debris was instant. In a single blink, Zovesa saw the wing skewer one of the cataphract tanks. The wing took the tank with it, unphased by its embedment in the tank’s bowels. The thank was lifted up and launched backwards, crushing, and smearing the troopers behind it. Pulverizing them into an immediate grotesque trail of crimson smears and lumps of flesh as it crashed into their encampment behind them and erupting.

The tank threw its own deadly burst of shrapnel as it rolled beside Zovesa. A chunk of armored plating struck her in the chest at ferocious speed. It pummeled her upon impact. Cracking her breastplate and passing blunt kinetic force into her organs, rattling the air from her lungs, popping blood vessels ,and snapping a rib. The chunk carried her off her feet and tossed her into the side of the Turbo Tank in the middle of the advancing column. Her back smacked into its side hull and the residual inertia made her jolt back her head and crash it too. The entire hellish leap ended with her falling into the bloody snow face first.

The world was slow to bleed back into focus. Vision came in blurred, with undulating shapes and shadows. The sensations of touch came next, vibrations of explosions, the heat of flames and the unmistakable slick feel of flowing blood. Only sound refused to come, instead replaced by a long monotone ringing that pounded with the blood dripping from High Knight Marshal’s ears. Stumbling and interrupted by collapsing spasms, Zovesa tried to get back on her feet. She threw off her shattered helmet and the ripping cold battered her bruised and bloodied face. She was struggling to breathe. A single deep gasp pained her lungs with such pain that her entire body convulsed. Zovesa feel again. The pain defiled every nerve in her body, and it could no longer take it. Everything flexed at once trying to expel the agony. Zovesa vomited bile and blood, disgorging everything from herself in a red slurry that partially drenched her armor staining it in bloody teary streams.

Before her, Sith forces had rallied from the initial shock of their advance. Despite the smoldering crater that partially consumed the bridge. Most of the main avenue was salvaged and Sith troopers with walkers began to pour forward. Their formation was broken. The somersaulting tank and torn right through it. With her vision slowly regaining its focus, Zovesa saw that the Sith had taken full advantage of the crash. Confident that the NIO forces were ravaged, they began thrusting forward with fire teams. Picking off her men as they slowly tried to rise up from the places they took cover. Zovesa removed her lightsaber and in a dragging run she ignited its white blade. In laborious, painful, swipes, Zovesa deflected what she could. Sending back bolts or throwing them away.

Through the Force she howled at her Force Corps Knights to rush to the aid of the Auxilia Stormtroopers. Some rose and moved to the nearest cluster of troopers and helped cover their reorganization into teams. Squad Shields where planted and their domed shields activated. But, Zovesa was still the furthest in front. The closest to the previously advancing Sith vanguard. They smelt blood and had come to strike an early victory. Zovesa was for the moment, until her men regrouped, was alone. In the distance the silhouettes of Sith troopers began to grow clearer from their dark shadowy forms in the blizzard.

“You cannot win with out me little one,” the darkness prodded. “Give in. Just for a moment. There is power in me!”

“Shut up!” Zovesa screamed to no one aloud.

“Your men will die. They depended on you and you failed. And then you will die a failure” it prodded once more.

“Give in!”

Zovesa’s hand tightened around her lightsaber. Shame boiled into anger, and anger began to roar like deep hatred.

“Give in!”

Zovesa raised her lightsaber and tilted her hand forward so the blade was parallel to the bridge. She crouched into a deep stance and the Force poured into her thighs, before running down into her feet. In the shadow of this Force was a darkness. A darkness that began to seep into the Force she had summoned. Little streams of Darkside, once imprisoned now unleashed. The streams grew into a flood, until it became an all consuming torrent. Zovesa had given in. For the sake of her men, the NIO and the battle, just this once (hopefully), she had let the darkness that had been instilled in her by torturous means by her old Sith Master…had returned.

The Chiss’ mouth snapped open. Her mouth stretched wide like a beast’s fanged maw. The Force blasted from her lips in a Force Scream that barrelled down bridge in a shockwave that could only be seen by the disturbances it made against the gales. Then the tension of the Force in her legs was stomped out as she snapped into a forward Force sped charge. Using the Force Scream as cover, a darkness maddened Zovesa became the black shield to her white armored knights. Rushing head long into the throngs of the Sith vanguard force, she erupted into their ranks with whirlwind of sweeping cuts. All chivalrous disciplined manners of swordplay was discarded for attacks of supreme prejudice. It was a desperate attack but, one that had a chaotic finesse to its enraged saber dance.

“Darkness, Light, nothing matters,” she barked at herself, justifying the one rule she had broken,

“My men come first! My soul be damned!"

"You hear me Force!”

“My men come first!”

---

---

 

[Cara Dalgas]

​

C a r a _ D a l g a s

| Location | Mygeeto, Under Bridges​

| Objective | Prepare Maneuver Sixty-Two Besh​

Her fingers dug into the bridge as she clung with dear life, her grip and magnetic attachments letting her stick firmly to the surface. There was a groan over her comms as one of the troopers following her complained, " God...How much more of this do we need to do this for? " The Dragoon captain spoke with a short response, " Eighty-six that attitude corporal. We have a job to do. " The bridge beneath her hands and feet rumbled as another explosion impacted it. Loose rubble and dust would fall to the depths below. They'd continue navigating around holes blown through the bridge, remaining out of sight from the Sith Empire's forces.​

​

It would be a slog and a half before they reached their destination point, coming up close to the enemy's position as she reached down to her belt and grabbed an explosive charge. With one hand gripping the surface and her lower body anchored to the surface, she'd place the charge onto the bridge, the device adhering to the surface as she entered in the arming codes to prime the charge. The troopers under her charge would follow suit, carefully planting charges until the task was complete.​

​

Cara's comms would open to her soldiers as she spoke, " Position Aurek of Sixty Two Besh is green. Proceed to Position Besh. " A similar encrypted transmission was sent to the warmaster, indicating that the maneuver was ready and awaiting his command. The Dragoons would advance, slowly moving closer towards the enemy where they would await the signal and the following commands.​

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Mygeeto
Kyrel Ren Sila Taeli Raaf Vaylin Obinmiux R'avfa Madelyn Lowe

Spoiler

Armour / Sabres / Wrist / Tsaisibola / Vibroknife / Satwasin

Once, she had met a man who claimed to be the embodiment of war,

Folly, she thought. War could be so many things. Battle, strife, victory, these things could not be so easily embodied. A battle was fought over land, among the crystal fields of Mygeeto, just as it was among the stars or deep under the sea. The theatre was ever changing, and warriors would ever adapt. However, one stage remained largely unchanged, as it had since the dawn of time: Mind and morale.

A siege tested the field of the mind more than most battles.

A weary man grew sloppy, his eyes heavy, his hands weak. When the cold settles in the very marrow of one’s bones, hope slowly fades. And when commanders die in sudden strokes of violence, the field is oft tipped against one’s favour.

With the wind howling, snapping, tugging at fabric and gnashing against metal, Darth Ophidia and a half-dozen of her personal guard were set to strike on the plane of morale. Their job was to make the siege as hellish- and an advance as excruciating as possible for the soldiers of the rebellion, and if possible, to shatter the chain of command.

They would not strike openly or directly, that was best left to the Legion.

They did not march across the bridges or hunker at the end, but climbed and scouted their way across no-man’s land like ghost, shrouded against the crystal by stealth systems and lead by one who had lived her life in concealment. It was not every day Darth Ophidia personally lead the Satwasin on a mission, and it was even more rare for her to take soldiers with her on a mission, but these were not normal circumstances.

This enemy had once been a part of their strength, until it turned cancerous.

This enemy had been part of the Empire’s sword and shield, before it turned treasonous.

Perhaps it was inadvertent that the dark side should diverge so close to triumph. She had seen it before. She saw it in the rogue lords who wanted the death of a Dark Lord, and the disgruntled imperials who once squatted on Csilla. The past had taught her much, and no more would she stand by and watch these ungratefuls from the sidelines.

The wind calmed for a moment as she gripped the next rock and swung herself to the next handhold. Her feet almost slipped but found purchase. The first satwasin who followed her almost lost his grip in the transition. The line between them went taught for a moment as the fall threatened. The second pulled him in, then urged him on. He readied himself, then moved again, this time Ophidia helped him stick the landing.

She needed every one of them, and more importantly, she needed not to be pulled off the cliff along with them.

Patting his shoulder reassuringly, she begun the next step of the climb while the train of satwasin behind her followed. The wind picked up once more, biting cold and laced with grit. She shivered, but funnelled the pain into the furnace of the Force, then pressed on.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Muunilinst // Harnaidan // JTSP
Maynard Treicolt // Ellie Mors
Swan Song

Her gaze never wavered from him once he understood her comment, though her helmet reformed around her eyes to conceal most of her chary observation. The disquieting response from the Jedi Knight to the information of the foe lying in wait was not reassuring. If there had been anyone else on the team that was formidable enough to rise to the challenge, she’d prefer they face it rather than inserting the Concordian in a situation that put him face to face with that which made his skin crawl some nights. It wasn’t a question of strength or skill, those days were long gone, it was something more unconscious than that. Not something she could put her finger on before they synchronized, and before he enwrapped to her line of thought, she compartmentalized her reservations lest they unnerve him even more.

Talking to excess, when she could feel his intentions clearly through the whisperings of their telepathic link, was mostly superfluous. The tactical advantage of such an ability quickly manifested when Loske kneeled in synchronicity with the Mandalorian and drew her elbow back in similar timing before a powerful expulsion blasted from her palm.

To Jambo, this sight was both impressive and validating that his wariness of Jedi would not go away anytime soon.

The motion was repeated once more until success struck through the floor’s foundation, exposing its imperfections and stretching into cracks deep enough that they could not sustain themselves. They shattered in the immediate proximity of the Jedi pair, giving way to a cloud of dust and rubble to the room below. Just before the fall, a blue sheen covered her nose and mouth to provide filtration against the vapour of debris.

The descent was cut short by the elevated table that caught them below, and Loske braced herself for the landing. Maynard’s intentions articulated in her mind’s eye moments before his trajectory was absolute. The outcome was unknown, but she shot her arms forward to manipulate the duracrete chunks that had fallen around them to follow suit and provide additional distraction to his strike.

The monster ahead of them moved quickly, and dissuaded the attack. Unnatural extensions of flesh manifested and sent her backward, putting precious space between herself and her attackers. Maynard’s combustive attack gave her time to observe the reaction and the space -- as well as their foe. The woman was more impressive than she’d been in the cocoon on the Vong ship, and also a lot more naked. The shape of the creature was unmistakably feminine, complemented by the throaty tone of the words she strung together, goading Maynard. The wings and tendril tangles were also new, and if the woman was looking to look like impending doom itself, the façade was well represented.

“Stars, do they not give you clothes when you’re reborn?” Loske muttered quietly from her position, tracking the ineffective movements of her partner and implementing the suggestions of her late master before she sprung into any sort of action. To battle a force user, one must protect themselves in the Force. You must imagine a barrier around your body at all times, an energy field to block the manipulations of your opponent.

The wings. As long as the woman was able to project herself about the room, and had the space to move liberally, their attacks would be compromised with effectiveness. Those had to become an immediate secondary target to the primary strike zones because nothing truly beat going for the head.

Unsurprisingly, the Sith was spewing her interpretations of the pair coupled with the tale of her own dark ascension. Boasting mixed with provocative questions. They hadn’t been so fortunate to enter a therapy session last time they’d contended with one another, having the whole entanglement being cut short with Maynard’s swift kill of the previous incarnation.

“Apparently judgemental dialogue is par for the course.”

Still, mockery or not, the acknowledgement of the intensity which May bore on his task didn’t go unnoticed. It made her uncomfortable to have him weighed and measured so immediately, and her grip tightened defensively on her hilt; saber remaining unlit for now. The darkness was unignorable, but it hadn’t been a burden yet. Perhaps it was a ticking time bomb… Someone as pure as the Concordion couldn’t possibly perform straight malicious tactics.

"...Maynard struck out at me while influenced by the dark side. I'd only ever seen him like that once before."

This was a distraction.

Wasting no further time on dialogue, the Jedi kicked into gear, activating the glowing blade at her side. Through their link, the desired outcomes of her actions would manifest in Maynard’s mentality well before they came to fruition and he could aid them how he saw fit.

Blurring forward from her prior position, Loske swiftly paced to the edge of the table and kicked off from it. Temporarily suspended in her leap, the vambraces of her suit, fired a grappling line shot forward in a clean, yellow line toward the woman’s shoulders. If it captured the arms, great. If it captured the wings in it’s grip? Even better. If it missed? Loske was still on a trajectory of attack, and unable to divert her route. Either way, she’d be yanking the arm back that was attacked to the line, intending to tow the woman closer to her proximity and deliver a cutting strike from shoulder-to-hip once her feet were planted.

 

[Tarrik Kestis]

Objective: Battle in the Frost Cyclone
Allies: Vaulkhar Ignatius Imperial Warlord Zovesa Cai-Lan Raeth Jekadius Lawson Hunter Blackburn
Enemies: Lark Amur Miko Evans Darth Kados Madelyn Lowe Jyon Hlervu
Equipment: In signature


Mygeeto, they had come to it at last... The New Imperial Order launched it's first strike upon the Sith Empire, minor skirmishes and operations now turning into a full open war. What he would call the Imperial Civil War. Made up of those that dare defy Carnifex, his empire and all those thay maybe his accomplices. For weeks, if not months Mygeeto had become a battleground on both ground and space. The long stretching Mesas becoming contested battlegrounds. The Stormtroopers that fought on the ground below were dealt with horrible conditions, from the bitter freezing cold, living in trenches that were home to deterioating conditions, supplies being few and far between. Not to mention the constant threat of being taken out by the Sith. Likewise, the Sith were not allowed to press back, either side making counterattacks with only either of them gaining a yard of ground. The Sith were held up good among the banking clan towers.

Tarrik was a relative newcomer to the fight, prior to this he was hunting down Jedi targets in the Outer Rim. Seeking either to turn more of them into Inquisitors, or kill them if need be. All the while his thoughts shifting back to his time on Mandalore as a captive. His days spent in isolation and torture at the hands of his Kaleesh Sith Lord host Cyggys. Now here he was no longer a Jedi Knight, but an Imperial Inquisitor of the New Order. On board the gunship that was arriving with the reinforcements. He only heard of the horror stories that was playing out on the planet below. Some even saying that a battle has not been seen like this since the days of the Clone Wars. Even then from what he could find from that Mygeeto was a planet that was fought for the last year of the War. Now he could see the trouble they were have in just trying to siege the planet. With fresh troops and supplies coming in. It had taken them days only to find a break on the ground. Now they might have a chance at leading a counteroffensive.

He was holding onto the reigns, while the troops did not like the disturbing look of the Inquisitor. They did feel somewhat at ease knowing they had a Force User on there side. One that could stand against the Sith. Many of them were just new recruits, most of the veterans and defectors had been on the ground fighting already. If they were not there, they would be at Muunilist. "Enroute and on approach to our boys below. Hold on everyone, looks like we have a massive storm system on the way. Be prepared for some turbulance." The pilot informing the troops in the back. Some to ease their fear had checked their gear. Others held trinkets, or holos of their loved ones. Hoping that within this frozen wasteland it would provide them some luck during these trying times. It had proved futile. Most would not make it back, and those that did would truly earn the name of Stormtrooper. For this Siege was a test for them all. A test of will, strength, and courage to stand against a larger and more powerful foe. If they could win this battle the Empire could be shown that for the first time in a long time. They would have something to fear.

Tarrik had checked his own armor, his vambraces which he kept a firm reminder of the atrocities he and others went through on Mandalore, and his lightsaber which he made to cut down his enemies. Even reaching out with the Force he could feel his own Master's presence. As unsettling as he thought his Master was. It brought him some measure of comfort. Some confidence that with the Executor on the ground. The Inquisitor's task would be complete. He would make sure both the Executor and the Soverign Imperator's will be done. Even if it costs him his life. With visibility slowly disappearing the more the gunships descended, explosions increasing all around them. His own gunship rocking back, it wasn't before long that the sound of impending death was on them.

A Sith TIE Fighter roared, with visibility being next to none. With the firing of green laser blasts from the TIEs, the TIEs started to crash into a few of the Gunships started to either crash or explode. "Brace for Im-- Ahhh!!" In that very moment along with what would be the pilot's last transmission, half of the gunship broke open like an egg. The ball of a TIE fighter going in through-hull of the gunship. Men screaming, the frozen atmosphere mixed with the ferocious winds of the cyclone had sucked a few of the men out some could clearly be heard through their helmets. "N-No Nooo Pleas- Ahhhh!!!" One stromtrooper cried out in desperation his helmet coming off, the tears being shown in his eyes. Freezing to death slowly getting sucked into the Cyclone's howling winds below.

Tarrik held on as best he could to the half of the gunship quickly spinning from the winds. Holding on and trying to desperately call upon the Force to shield him. Before he knew it he was slammed against the top of the Gunship. Everything going black. Tarrik slowly awakening. All around he saw ruined bodies mixed in with the wreckage, and even mangled corpses that even he did not wish to describe. Slowly getting up, trying to shake off the pain that came with the impact. The Storm was right on top of them, and it only appeared that he was the last survivor of the gunship. The others that were coming in even he did not know. Pressing into his gauntlet to hear the NIO comm frequencies. He heard a garbled comm coming through barely making it out. "Grand Marshal Zovesta, Second Brother will be aiding you on Bridge One." It had seemed that Tarrik had crashed onto the same very bridge, and now he would have to dangerously make it through No Man's Land to link up with his allies.

Tarrik attempted to speak to the Second Brother. "F-First Brother inbound to link up with Second Brother. Second Brother, what is your position?" He said the storm already causing interference. With the Storm's effects proving deadly. The troops that weren't already dead as he could see his surroundings. Were slowly succumbing to the effects of the deep freeze. Within seconds they stopped breathing and had appeared as if statues. Walking along the bridge. Pulling his cloak over his armor. Trying to stay as warm as possible. He wandered through No Man's Land seeking to link up with NIO forces for the final push. Looking all around the bodies, limbs, durasteel, and supplies everywhere with blaster fire all around. There was one thought that Tarrik had as he made his trek that came to mind.

War, War never changes.

 

[Cara Dorniarn]

r u n​

Objective: Intercept Tavlar; Give a speech
Allies: TSE | Mazrim Caide/Taim
Opposition: Irveric Tavlar | FN-999
Post #2

​

"If you give me 65, I will finish this and join you."

The soldier was confident if not cocky, yet there was a cold fury Cara read in his eyes that told her a more calculating mind was at work. This was not an average academy legionnaire. A predator given human form perhaps, one looking for prey with bones firm enough to sharpen his teeth against. She did not approve of recklessness but his drive was admirable. The black dome of her helmet dipped in a subtle nod, "Acceptable."

The man's words toward the trooper were noted. Not for treason, but for invitation. She remained standing as a motionless pillar of gray and red, the symbol of the Sith Imperial Empire burning red in the hologram before her visor. She would wait, willing to observe the man's craft with a critical eye.

Particle beam fire was heard not even a quarter of a klick away, "Doctor!" One of the Eight called through the comm, the female's voice laced with alarm.

"Report, Jonna."

"A division of Sith Legionnaires are near-- they're shouting about him."

Cara's helmet snapped around to face the direction of blaster fire. They were in close proximity to Tavlar quicker than her estimates had predicted. So be it.

The legionnaire would have to wait, "Muen on surveillance. The rest circle my position." Muen's helmet bobbed in confirmation, the sniper of the Eight breaking from the rest to find a nest suitable for observing the block. As he left the live feed in Cara's helmet scattered, his eyes now focused on his new objective.

Not wanting to miss her opportunity the engineer broke into a run, gray limbs pumping as the heavy steps thudded against the broken street. Weapons fire. Two of the Eight ceased their pursuit to return fire while the rest continued to follow the doctor.

As Cara round the corner she spied the unmistakable form of Irveric Tavlar, his beskar armor coupled with his t-visor shooting a hot bullet into her pride. Mandalorian sympathizer. She felt disgust.

He was at first preoccupied, then running in the opposite direction. The skyscrapers at both left and right rattled from artillery fire, glass falling from hundreds of stories above to pepper the shattered landscape. While a dangerous environment she couldn't allow him to escape.

Cara increased her speed then leapt forward, the Force wrapping the durasteel arms as she slammed them flat onto the ground where she landed. The vibrations from the impact snaked into the duracrete and the soil below, feeding back information about what laid below the surface. As she rose the servos in her arms whirred and whined as if under a great burden, Cara herself straining to push up an unseen object as her knees threatened to buckle. She wouldn't allow him to escape.

The ground ahead of Tavlar split wide, shooting forth a jagged wall of stone and clay. Pipes shorn by the earthen barrier spewed water into the air and duracrete sloughed off the four meter wall.

"General Tavlar!" Even with the noise of battle her voice was cold, clear, and loud, "You're quicker than you look. Who taught you how to flee so well?" Her voice took a venonous turn, "Mandalorians?"

If her voice was unrecognizable then the arms at her side were the distinguishing trait, those inseparable gray pieces of her identity. She balled both fists, ready to scrub out the stain on her conscience.

The remaining five of her men made themselves ready, the boots of the other two swiftly scaling rubble and finding their own positions further back. They would not engage unless ordered, and waited patiently for the command.

 

[Leon Amun]

C:\Murderhawke\Mission\Allies> Lord Venari | Vallaro Kindall
C:\Murderhawke\Mission\Enemies> Ryv | Lucien Dooku | Dorian Sicarrio
C:\Murderhawke\Mission\Objective> Defend the Muunilist capital city of Harnaidan
C:\Murderhawke\Mission\Gear> In character bio


There was a stillness in the air around Leon from his perch atop the building overseeing the court yard. War was finally upon them and it was refreshing to The Murderhawke to be in the middle of the chaos once again. The NIO had finally grown bold enough to try and solidify their place in the galaxy and it was their job to prove just how wrong the NIO was. Though, just because he pitied their foolish actions did not mean he didn't respect the hell out of their bravery. It took nerves of steel to willingly go up against one of the Galaxy's strongest empires and he would at least give them the honor of a glorious death in battle.

Leon looked out through the scope of 'The Harbinger' at the battle unfolding before him, the zoom of the weapon enhancing on the visor of his helmet. It was clear to anyone that the NIO was coming at them with everything they had, awe inspiring weapons of war scattered throughout the city. The Mandalorian had to admit, it made him a little jealous, he wanted weapons like those. He wasn't paid an enormously generous retainer to be jealous though. No, he was paid (Handsomely) to stand as the gigantic armored bulwark between his employer and anyone (Or Anything, Leon was not one to discriminate) foolish enough to challenge the terrifying Sith Lord. He would become a singular Beskar clad fortress standing tall, in all his resplendent glory, and take every single life that his opponents were so graciously offering. If there was one thing that Leon was certain of, it was that they would not lose this battle. For he was The Murderhawke Mandalorian and he. Would. Not. Fall.

"We've got incoming, I saw one go in here" Leon's words were emphasized by an explosion as 'The Harbinger' stirred to life, launching a 50mm shape charged round straight into the building he had seen one enemy scramble into. In a split second, the outer wall of the structure was no more, only a pile of rubble remained after the dusk clear "Someone go fish that poor bastard out"

Once the first round had been expended, the armored giant turned his attention to a squadron of speeder bikes closing in on their position. Leon steadied his aim as the second round (This one, high explosive) slid into place. "We got a group of speeder coming in from the southern entry" Leon began to lead his shot as he followed the speeders path towards his friends. "Lets see if they can dodge this" Once again, his words brought forth another shot, the blast echoing off the buildings surrounding the Plaza. The round raced towards its destination at the front of the speeders before sending up a wall of flames as it exploded upon impact.

"Vod, Load the void rounds. Our company has nearly arrived." Leon heard the words of his employer ring out over the comms.

Leon smirked and waited for the Magnetic Acceleration Cannon to finish loading the new round. He had planned for this specific occasion, Venari had wanted the upper hand in every occasion and the Mandalorian was more than willing to oblige. Soon enough, the chamber was loaded and he aimed the cannon down at the front of the southern entrance of the Plaza. The round shot down and exploded, sending void dust scattering about the area, Leon knew it wouldn't kill a force user out right, and to be honest he'd never actually seen the effects in person. But he was sure it would annoy any force user, Sith or Jedi, who was unlucky enough to pass through that cloud. A minute later, the fourth and final shot (Another Voidstone round) was shot down farther into the Plaza.

With his objective complete, The Murderhawke tossed 'The Harbinger aside and let it crash down onto the roof of the building, denting it. Before long, Leon launched himself from the building, plummeting down to the ground to meet his thread. Not long before he made impact, the thrusters on the Mandalorian's armor came to life, slowing his decent. "The welcome mat is set up, horderves are on the table, and dinner is in the oven. " The armored monstrosity bellowed to his companions, grabbing the Axe from his back and igniting it. "Now let's show our guests to the refreshments."

 

[Taa Nul]

(Please void this post. Need to pull out of the thread 'cus reasons. Apologies)​