Junction Shadows of Treachery | The Tion Necessity | The Empire vs. The Alliance

[Mylo Thorne]

​

Eclipse the Stars

Location: Space over Tion, Tion, Outer Rim
Objective: Break the Imperial Blockade
Equipment: X-Wing Starfighter
Callsign: Revenant Six
ALLIES:
GA AND OTHERS:
Bané Zirbils | Liram Angellus | Liedran Kathause | Andien Gale
REVENANT SQUADRON:
FOUR - Shar Sieu | FIVE - Kaul "Joker" Emos
ENEMIES:
Caarlyle Rausgeber | Ignacious Korvan | Velran Kilran | OPEN

​

"That's 5 ships down in one minute! Get on my level Mylo!"

Mylo audibly groaned. Kaul Emos, or "Joker", a fitting nickname the members had bestowed on him, was one of the best hotshots he'd ever seen. But as he'd been told time and time again, shooting down ships alone didn't necessarily make you a good pilot. Or mean that your chances of living would go up. With the already low survival rate of starfighter pilots exacerbated by the numerous conflicts of the last few years, he'd taken that advise, or, cautionary tale to heart.

<"Watch your six, Kaul, we're not outta the woods just yet.">

He arced round after the pass, having successfully gotten a number of bandits on his tail, a number of which had been scattered by a prudent attack from his wingman. Nudging the stick to the left, he turned of onto his starboard side, about to engage in a chase with one of the few remaining TIE Interceptors. Mylo grinned to himself as he thought of the perfect move to get his first kill of the battle. Throttling up, he turned into the flight path of the ship, pressing his thumb lazily, letting off a few scarlet darts of fire to alert the enemy to his presence. Glancing out of front viewport and display at the same time, he made sure the ship was level, before pulling back hard on the stick. The ship lurched upward as he accelerated further, the dagger-like ship still ahead of him.

Almost moving into a turn, he made a sudden roll, the stars swirling relative to him, as if he was just about to jump to lightspeed. Levelling out, and steadily throttling back, he hit the trigger and sent a blast that stabbed through the connection between the wing, the panel detaching itself, and the ball cockpit careening out into space just to explode in an inferno. He'd attracted some attention from that manoeuvre surely, and his droid brain made sure to let him know. Mylo hit the ship hard to port, letting a few snapshots run past him, pushing the throttle just past 70 percent in an attempt to escape. Kicking the pedal, he pulled up once more, maintaining momentum for a loop, moving into a half-roll to come out of it, and sent a spray of lasers at an opponent who'd made the mistake of moving to where he'd just been.

Shields shimmering as he passed through the implosion, his sensors went off to alert him that the Empire wasn't willing to give up Tion so easily. Squinting as he stared out at the approaching fighters, he saw the classic solar panel wings and twin ion engine. but this TIE was different.. somehow. Pulling up an image on the display, he moved his two fingers outwards to expand the image. His eyes widened as he tried to mentally configure an idea about what those ships were. "Mig, we got a signature for this model?" Instead of a ball cockpit, it had a simple slit with a crimson glow the colour of his bolts. On his display, the aurebesh letters progressively appeared across the screen. <"A TIE DRONE, LIEUTENANT THORNE."> It read. A grimace began to form on his face as he noticed the new fighters approaching.

<"Incoming! TIE Drone classes with escorts."> Green bolts streaming towards him as he pulled down into a dive, before pushing the X-Wing off into a sharp turn, cutting across the flight path of his pursuers, weaving between blaster bolts that flew past his cockpit. Accelerating rapidly, he placed a hand on the throttling, pushing up slowly, before twisting the stick to the right in a different direction, despite the inertial compensator, he felt the ship lose all forward momentum and loop rolled away. However he didn't complete the turn and complete another roll to level out behind the two drones. The trigger went off and he went bolts straight through both drones, cutting between them just before they exploded in his rear view. His grimace was replaced by a more thoughtful expression. It went back to the age-old debate between droid fighters and organic pilots.

While the former could be mass-produced and used for swarming tactics, in his mind, they couldn't compare with the ability to think critically that an organic pilot could. Spotting more targets coming into cross his flight path, he slowed, switching to his missiles, and hoping that he got a lock.

 

[Osarla Ridor]

CAPTAIN OF TORTUGA COMPANY
222ND NOVA CORPS | 512TH LEGION | 312 ATTACK BATALLION

General Martin had been killed in action — and as the next link in the chain of command, the burden fell to Osarla to keep the marines coordinated. Though, when reinforcements quickly found their way planetside, the Wookie General took over. One giant non-human passing the controls over to the other giant non-human.

Which was good. She didn’t want the responsibility of command — it would keep her away from the proverbial trenches.

Osarla was itching for a fight. Escaping from imprisonment within the dungeon maze on Lao-Mon had been a thrill. A brutal, gruesome, exciting thrill that she hadn’t matched adrenaline-wise in a long time. And the sweetness from the reunion with her marines made her want to, all the more, make sure they never felt the feeling of loss again.

They were a tough bunch, her 222nd, but the emotions that came with that which they thought they’d lost, only to be reunited again, softened even the toughest of souls.

One of those souls had been Saliba Nihad. A man who’s face was like a rock, craggy and solid. Stonelike with no emotion. He’d barely cracked a grin when he’d seen Osarla, Tech and Reporter re-emerge from Maw space — but the sentiment of relief was clear.

Saliba Nihad, uncrackable and unshakeable, keeled over to his hands at the feet of the 501’st fist. He collapsed into his own blood and bowels.

Captain Ridor witnessed the loss, and could only watch and steel herself with the knowledge she’d never see that stony exterior crumble ever again. Her jaw hardened, and she brought her blade up to deflect an incoming streak of plasma. The red colour caught the angle of her sabre, and redirected back to its sender, erupting in a puff of sparks and smoke against the chestplate of a trooper.

A speech from the man that killed Nahid boomed out. Words meant to set the blood of warriors ablaze boomed above the battlefield. Osarla was only feet away by now, and could feel the whisper of Nihad’s lifeforce silence entirely. He was gone.

Her focus shifted to that which remained.

The voice, though modulated through the Stormtrooper’s devices, was unmistakeable. The diction evenmoreso. She’d heard those promises, those bolstering claims, many-a-time throughout the Stygian Campaign.

She’d believed those words, and the speaker, herself once.

Now, though, she scowled. Something like contempt coiled around her throat.

“Good speech —” her saber cut through the barrel end of a blaster, and she thrust an invisible punch out to knock the soldier that dared fired at her, almost point blank range. He sailed back into a comrade. “—sound'n like a man who's been alive too long an' is ready to die.”

Unlike Saul, who may have not been Saul (though her memory promised that it was very likely Saul), Osarla was impossible not to recognize. Aside from her sheer stature and presence on the battlefield, her face was exposed. Her armour’s helm had long since been discarded since the battle began, a sniper had scorched too close to one of her montrals. As such, along one of the blue rings was a streak of blood and peeled flesh.

With her face exposed, her sneer turned to something more somber. More disappointed.

"Can't bear to live with yourself any longer?"

---

ALLIES | GA | NJO | Bayaz | Ibra Sest | TORTUGA COMPANY
FOES | THE EMPIRE | Saul Vandron

 

[Korvan Toldreyn]

​

New Alderaan, New Aldera | Rakaan Horne​

The music of blaster fire and distant detonations filled the air, a dull bass that reverberated through the walls of the residential block. It was all distant, as if Korvan had found an isolated pocket in the middle of a storm. There were no voices, no footsteps or cries for help. Regardless, he knew he was not alone. The Jedi Master could feel that same presence, the anger - the fear. The sorrow. The thoughts and feelings that he sensed flashed with a sudden heat, an intense and impassioned fury - it was all so characteristically him.

"Korvan!"

The call shattered the strange sort of peace that had settled over the residential block, and a heavy stone settled in the Jedi Master's stomach. Turning, his gaze settled on the form of Rakaan at the top of the stairs. It was strange, he had expected to see his old apprentice in his robes. Truthfully, he didn't know why - it was not as if the boy had been frozen in time. Instead, he stood adorned in the armour of an Imperial Knight. It almost seemed ill-fitting, over-sized. There was no way it could ever fit him, not really.

"I'm here for the people the Empire is hurting - killing - Rakaan." He spoke plainly, his brow furrowing. The only way to describe his expression was sad. Not angry, not disappointed. Sad. "This isn't you, Rakaan. The blood of these innocent people should not be on your hands. I know that you don't want it."​

 

[Rakaan Horne]

NEW ALDERAAN, NEW ALDERA:-
Korvan Toldreyn

"You've come for them."

His voice was acidic. In there, an accusation came with his tone of voice whilst his features continued to thunder.

"You never came for me." Even beneath the armour, the rise and fall of his chest was so evident. His nostrils flared, and his throat shifted with a harsh swallow. Discomfort started to run its course through his entire body, no matter the amount of odd and unfamiliar satisfaction that was found in the sadness Korvan wore - it suited him, the shame of a loss, the defeat. "The Jedi never came for me."

"I trusted you!"

Rakaan failed to contain it. It held it in for months at a time, with no words on offer, and to see him here and now. Those small samples of composure were lost, like sand between splayed fingers. There was no holding onto it now. But regardless of all that anger, his voice was reminiscient of a scared boy.

"I trusted you to save me and you left me to die." He seethed amidst his back and forth strides, the hilt of his saber held unignited in his palm.

 

[Veno]

Yellow tinted visors rolled over his shoulder, the sound of cracked and shattered stone-marble across the brutalised street earned his attention amidst all the commotion that swirled around them. In the distance, echoes of shells on a collision course into the countless ruined structures whistled in the air, as had blaster fire and the pained screams of the wounded and dying. But of them all, the last few inches of a blur thrown behind rubble earned his attention the most. Veno tilted his head alongside his readied blaster pistol, a final look cast to the stormtroopers on the march elsewhere.

This was his now.

"Come on out." His sinister self failed to seem friendly as a slow advance had taken him around closer. "Veno won't hurt you."

A lie. Either of the Alliance, the local militia, or even a civilian. Veno was careless as to the lives he claimed.

Auteme

 

[Maijan Paisea]

TASK FORCE XESH

THE TRICKSTER
NEW ALDERA | ORBITAL DEFENSE BASE | CONTROL ROOM

Maijan hadn't been this high in a long time (those "meds" from Mercy didn't count).

Maijan hadn't felt this good in a longer time.

As a member of Task Force Xesh, her servitude was completely off the books. Lured by a promise from IVI that her loyalty through each do-or-die mission, one, two, three, four, five, six — an embarrassing number by now — took a number of years off her sentence.

After this one, she might finally be done. All the missions she'd served might have finally accumulated enough to count for her freedom.

Somehow, knowing that, and trying to math it out, made the high that much sweeter.

Wearing a lopsided smirk, Maijan floated cooly through the conflict. Pockets of contention, with plasma! And swords! broke out around her. This was normal. To her, now, it was technicolour and superheated.

The ring of klaxons wasn't cacophonous anymore, not in her current state. Instead, it was almost rhythmic, like a metronome that she could keep pace to.
The klaxon wheeee'd — Maijan woo'd — her golden fist curled into the nose of a dispatched agent that wasn't in SIA-garb.
The klaxon woooo'd — Maijan wee'd — and drove an elbow to the throat of another agent that wasn't wearing the colours she liked.
Beneath the weight of her metal arm, skin broke, bones crunched and blood spurt.

Her lopsided grin stretched to her ears, this was fun.

"Tut tut, you'rrre too close." She muttered, hauling the unconscious bodies off to the side and away from the place they meant to do damage.

Unfortunately, she hadn't arrived in time to conceal the giant weapon from COMPNOR forces. They'd know where and what it was. Her abilities to create illusions would have to be used in other devices. On people instead.

That was part of M's experiment. What happened if you doubled a Force-users connection to The Force through synthetic means?

Maijan was so doped up on Force-enhancement drugs that her typical persuasion over the White Current might have bled into more than just duping people's sight. She was able to telekinetically connect as well. And more. She could sense...

...She could sense! Anticipate!

The thrill of feeling another's emotions through the force almost sent hers soaring, but she reigned it in at the last minute. Down, down, down clicked the turbolift. And readiness was all she felt from within the little metal container as it descended lower and lower to where she was.

Readiness...and...purpose.

With a high-pitched note of glee, the maestro twisted her wrist — her bracelets clinking together — and concealed herself from sight.

---

ALLIES | THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE | SIA
FOES | THE EMPIRE | Djorn Bline

 

[Saul Vandron]

F I S T _ O F _ T H E _ E M P I R E
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
SHADOWS OF TREACHERY
IRON STORM
Úlfhéðnar

Spoiler: IMPCOMMS

[[From: Gowrie]]
[[Recipients: Vandron, Tarring, Lockhart, FN-999]]

[[Suggestion - let the opposition make the first move, I've had some sneaking suspicions nagging me lately.

Breakthrough should never be considered easy by any means, but asymmetric-warfare is easily wielded in cities like these, so the real challenge awaits hubristic breakthroughs as we all know well enough. We've fought on both sides of Black Cauldron scenarios in the past - like every last one of us.

From New Harnaidan to New Carannia, we've been in more urban meat-grinders than any of us would care to recount, so we know what awaits early breakthroughs, and you don't need me going into detail on how messy they can get for anyone either. You can picture that clearly enough without my running commentary. Intel-sharing saves lives, so anything and everything could be useful beyond this point.

Trying to arrange a little parley on my end, though I'll be active on comms if the need arises. But as for the here and now - good luck out there, gentlemen.

Ave Rurik!]]

**

[[From: Vandron]]
[[Recipients: Gowrie, Tarring, Lockhart, FN-999]]

[[Negative, Gowrie.

We'll storm their positions and bring chaos to their lines, draw the rats out from their holes. I advise providing us adequate firepower support from behind -- concentrate fire ahead of our advance.

This is where the 501st excels.

Whatever ace you have up your sleeve, I suggest playing it at some point -- the 222nd is here.]]

With a tap on his wristpad, Saul swiped the message back to the rest general staff of this operation and gave the green light to the 501st to rapidly advance ahead towards the Allied forces as the vanguard of the Imperials. They were, after all, stormtroopers -- bred to break deadlocks and impasses on the field of battle.

His hand reached to unclutch the helmet off his head, to trace fingers dipped in ash down his face and breathe in the reinvigorating smell of plasma and soot in the air; the empowering stench of war that could reanimate even these warriors of old lying in tombs for eons. Few understood it and even fewer embraced it. The likes of the Mandalorians to the Yinchorri to the Thyrsians and all the way to his own near-extinct Amaxine.

And yet, among the galaxy there were individuals, dotted among the trillions of stars, that too felt most alive in the torrid fires of battle but adamantly refused to admit it. One such figure stood before him in all her alluring glory and battle-hardened disposition. They both towered over the rest, her crown of bloodied montrels elevating her even further.

The helmet never left his head, hand dropping down to his side as his eyes traced the fallen stormtroopers back to the source of their misery. Age had carved crevices on her face and scars lamented a thousand battles of her past much like they did his. The red tint of her skin color had paled to almost orange but there was no mistake, there could not be. Saul could never fail to recognize those he'd spent years huddled with across the galaxy-spanning trenches against the Sith.

"Osarla." he acknowledged her presence, slightly tilting his head. The half-orange, half-black helmet menacingly fixated on her form. Somewhere in the depths of his heart of steel, there was perhaps a tinge of ruth.

Once they had been comrades-in-arms.

"There is no greater honor than dying with a blade in my hand. You know that, Ridor... but if you've forgotten..." he swiped the marine's blood on his black, tattered cloak, the cleaner songsteel sword then lifting into a readied stance. "... then I'll make sure I remind you..."

The general lunged forth like a vornskr, unleashing a series of heavy blows against her defense.

"... how much... you relish this!"
​

ALLIES: The Empire | INDIRECT: DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Bex Tarring | Tyrell Lockhart | FN-999
ENEMIES: The Galactic Alliance | The Tion Republic | Osarla Ridor | INDIRECT: Bayaz | Ibra Sest | Shorurra Groznik

 

[Sol Stazi]

FINDSMAN COMPANY
NEW ALDERA
Tyrell Lockhart

"Dank ferrik!" Colonel Stazi grimaced, "What a wonderful new smell we've discovered."

Glowlamps pierced the subterranean gloom. Nothing but sewer rats down here. His pathfinders were already marred with foul sludge. Nearby groundquakes rained dust on their blast helms. Sol trudged through waste tunnels, following a local militia guide. They were deep behind enemy lines.

"Most of you have never fought the Empire. They're not human, they're brutal. Don't let yourselves get captured."

They all knew the dark rumors about Imperial penal camps. Just a little farther, and the duros would send a few scouts to peak around above. While Alliance marines held the city his special forces planned to launch a daring counterattack from below. High risk but then again nothing had managed to kill him yet.

 

[Tyrell Lockhart]

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

Tags: Sol Stazi

Walk

Everyone in the Empire knew where things were headed. With the Tython Accords thrown out the window, it was only a matter of time that the former allies against the Sith would find themselves at each other's throats. The absolute disaster that was the attack on Coruscant solidified the path that they now walked, having shown the Empire that only they could truly look out for their own. It was something that Tyrell had seen coming from a light year away, in reality. There would be no room for such conflicting ideologies so close to each other. Perhaps that's why he was so ready for this scrap, or perhaps the old Devil was just eager to get back into the fight. He had been present upon Tython, though his trigger finger always seemed to itch when not put to use. And since Tython, it hadn't gotten to see much action...

He strolled out of the transport, hands folded behind his back as he inspected the Dunwall Irregulars. A funny name, at this point... though they started out as a band of piecemeal resistance fighters, they had grown into a truly proper fighting force, worthy of marching side by side with the likes of the 501st. This, however, would never make them forget their roots. You could take the man out of Dunwall, but you could never take Dunwall out of the man.

"Right, listen 'ere lads! These Tion shites 'ave been givin' us a bit of trouble as of late. I know yer all itchin' for the fight, but that is not our purpose today. We are to remain in position until we can strike where we're needed most. Right now, I simply ask for patience. Once the iron is hot, the Devils of Dunwall will 'ave their due violence. Until then, keep yer wits about ya. Don't let me down lads. There will be plenty of blood for all."

It had been determined that they would be kept in reserve, awaiting for the moment to strike where the enemy would be at their weakest. Tyrell could feel that familiar itch once again as he spoke of patience, his hands wanting to get covered in the usual grime of battle. But he was told to wait, and wait he would, until the moment presented itself...

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

3rd post

SHADOWS OF TREACHERY: THE TION NECESSITY
AN AGE OF STRIFE STORY

WILDCAT_ONE

MAJOR-GENERAL OF WILDCAT DIVISION

BELIGERENTS
(IMPAF VS. GADF)

Saul Vandron FN-999 Bex Tarring Veno
Nukth Kelga'an Sahar Tyrell Lockhart
Melvain Braxis Jerec Yularen Rakaan Horne

Shorurra Groznik Bayaz Liedran Kathause
Qzekov Korvan Toldreyn Sara Roche Ibra Sest
Sol Stazi Kyell Laysel Osarla Ridor

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS: CLASH OF CIVILISATIONS - PART THREE

SOUTH-WESTERN BATTLEFRONT, NEW ALDERA,
NEW ALDERAAN, TION CLUSTER (EARLY 877 ABY)

'I came on a ship,'

Oh, but of course he'd choose to be difficult.​

As the translations came through cleaner than Gowrie could've hoped, he found himself understanding the general tone of Groznik's response as the latter continued,'I don't owe you any answers, Growie, but I will tell you this- I am here because justice demands it. The Jedi and New Alderaan sent out a plea for help, and I answered.', to which, the Tuath's eyes widened with an obvious rage in perceived disingenuousness of his Wookie counterpart. Yet not only at this, but also in the perceived refusal to answer to either GADF or Ashlan authorities on the complications his choices were catalysing as a result, so this (and especially so in consideration of the fact Lord Aron was more lawful in his practices than most in the Galaxy, let alone the Empire) naturally didn't sit well the Major-General, and especially not with his growing disdain for the fact Shorurra was sizing him up as a potential victim in the process.

'Why are you here, Growie? What false pretense has the Empire put forth as the impetus for this war? You and yours may be the formal ally of the Ashlan Crusade, but you are not my ally, Growie. Not so long as the Empire keeps up this farce.'

I usually like it when my enemies are all hopped up on propaganda....
But with this one, something's very iffy in this case.​

However, when Shorurra concluded,'I am my own Wookie.', the measure of the opposing commander could be more accurately found, giving better context to the real confusions on the matter. But Lord Aron still wasn't impressed in the slightest, and even though his interest had been piqued, there was much and more that he would need to address before any such options could be offered, and in moments he wanted to learn a little more about the soldiers on the other end of the divide. Disappointed, but still somehow unsurprised with the slow breakdown of inter-faction relations considered, Gowrie couldn't help but sneer at nobody in particular as he looked away in disgust, shaking his head slowly for a moment or two before returning his gaze once more.

'If you are your own Wookie as you say you are, then you will listen an' you will listen well.... First off, you don't want to be sizing me up like that, not even maybe. You know my name but that appears to be where your intel-gathering met it's untimely conclusion, so I'll just leave that one with ya. But in the meantime - I can answer these queries o' yours quite easily, Groznik. Quite easily indeed.'

Pointing to the hilt of his songsteel cavalry-sabre, the Tuath smiled proudly as he drawled,'You see, I brought this here with me because justice demands it of me also. And while you are partially correct that you owe me no explanation, I'm not so sure GA or Ashlan authorities would see it that way.... You shouldn't be eligible for service for as long as your loyalties remain undecided like this, but we'll get to that.', pausing for a moment to remember what it was the Wookie was asking him after his first statement. Then the realisation hit him almost a couple seconds later, continuing,'Ah, yes. The question I put forth before, but flung back at me with vitriol of course.... Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, that plea for help was just the moment they chose the competition over negotiations. You are not immune to propaganda, Groznik. I'm here protecting Galidraan as I always have, an' there's not a single false pretence that can be found in that.', reaching into his pocket for another cigarra as he framed the conclusion of his response carefully.

But then the Tuath's Datapad buzzed with a notification on IMPCOMMS.

Spoiler: IMPCOMMS

Ave Rurik!]]

**

[[From: Vandron]]
[[Recipients: Gowrie, Tarring, Lockhart, FN-999]]

[[Negative, Gowrie.

We'll storm their positions and bring chaos to their lines, draw the rats out from their holes. I advise providing us adequate firepower support from behind -- concentrate fire ahead of our advance.

This is where the 501st excels.
Whatever ace you have up your sleeve, I suggest playing it at some point -- the 222nd is here.]]

Interesting development to say the least, but it still has a chance of working.

I'll respond to this as soon as I can. Other information to pass along anyway.​

 

[Monos]

Music.
Equipment in bio.
Writing with: Phaineve Halseigh Sylus (Γ059) | Open

Sliding, speeding down a maintenance duct that branches off from one of the orbital cannon's multiple reactor cores, the feather-light Anzellan could already hear some undiscernible commotion nearby, through the panels and walls. No blaster shots though, as far as he could tell in that brief instant as he slid. It had been mere minutes since he'd first heard the alarms, but the Empire's infiltration units and solo agents were no less coordinated or disciplined than on Kuat; the place that in the Anzellan rebel's mind was the final catalyst of this day's events.

With a thud, he lands on his feet at the bottom of the shaft which runs further along, but this time horizontally. Looking up and letting out yet another burdened sigh, the comm in his ear crackles, and his hopes are immediately up.
​

By instinct, the pilot-turned-mechanic chimed her fellow War Hog on a direct line. "Mox, where are you!? What's your status?!"

– Phai! I'm just under walkway, section D, in one of maintenance shafts that feed into reactor core. Pinging for you now. – His high-pitched, nasal tone danced along the maze-like capillaries of the vents. – We need to-- – Mox would have continued, but another deep thud from behind (the volume of which indicated a much larger individual than him) could be heard throughout the shaft. Mox quickly spun back and saw what he could only categorize as a mean-looking supersoldier in a cyber-suit. Immediately, he was on the edge of fight or flight. This was bad. Thinking quick, he sent a brief reply back to Phaineve. – 'Kay, defend core. Close blastdoors. I try slow him.

The Anzellan knew that there was no time for further explanations, however required they were. This could hardly be considered coordination, but he'll just have to improvise. As he lowers his arm after hanging up on his friend, he straightens up from his regular hunch, reaching his prime height of about 12 inches. – I know, I know. – He nods and shrugs. – Seeing me, too frightening. – With his index finger, Mox points at the armored man. – Can turn back now. – Convinced of the intruder's ill intentions despite not seeing a clear indication of his affiliation, without a second thought he draws his peashooter of a blaster pistol from his back and discharges two shots at the man. The laughably small blaster's rate of fire is abysmal and overheats quickly. But it packs a considerable enough punch, should it land a hit.

Right as the second blaster bolt leaves his mini-weapon, he points upward with his free hand, clicks a concealed button on his wrist and grapples upward with his forearm-mounted rope launcher to hopefully escape the wrath of this Imperial assailant as soon as he can.​

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit | Weapon | Appearance

Location: New Aldera Orbital Defense Base
Objective: Aegis of Liberty

"There they are."

The two Jedi came around the corner and were met with intense blaster fire almost immediately. Alliance soldiers were pinned down by the specialized group of Imperials, and judging by the bodies throughout the hallway, they were losing ground against the intruders. But with the arrival of two Jedi, it seemed a boost of confidence spread through their ranks like a wave, bringing back hope that this fight wasn't already lost.

"Silas, I'll provide cover while you push forward!"

After calling out her instructions, Valery deflected bolts coming for her and stepped in front of the most forward line of defenders. With both her lightsabers out, she was able to provide a lot of cover within a hallway like this, and whenever possible, she did her best to reflect the blaster bolts back towards the source. She knew, however, that standing her ground here and just covering her own allies wasn't going to be enough.

She needed more pressure on the attackers, and she trusted Silas to handle that part.

If he was succesful, there would hopefully be a noticeable decrease in the intensity of the Imperial's fire, which she planned to take advantage of when that moment came. But until then, she used her skills to defend and place her allies in a more secure situation.

Silas Westgard Lily Stevens ​

 

[Kyell Laysel]

Location: New Aldera
Tag: Sahar

Oh chit.

The moment she ducked underneath his strike, he knew he was in trouble, so the pain from the knee burying itself into his stomach was hardly surprising, but it was certainly enough to fold him over and knock the wind out of him. He landed on hands and knees and looked up, expecting her to draw a lightsaber to finish it, but she made no move to lash out against him at all. Her words echoed in his mind, and he truly realized that she was a different kind of evil.

<T> "I'd rather protect all of them, than to ever be associated with the likes of you."​

His words were like venom, almost spoken with anger, but he was still able to control himself and pushed himself back up to his feet. Sahar had started to move away, further into the ruins, but he knew she was taunting him. She wanted him to follow her, and she wanted to mess with him before making any serious moves. It was frustrating to say the least — he had spent so much time training and now again, he felt that his skills were not up to the task.

That wasn't going to stop him though, and she knew that.

<T> "Your arrogance is going to be your downfall one day," He continued as he moved after her, the lightsaber drawn into his hands again. Now, he figured it was time to play her game, so after closing the distance to her, he opened up with a piercing stab aimed at center mass, but he followed it up with a powerful kick aimed at the side of her left knee, hoping to shatter it so she could no longer move.

If she wanted to fight dirty, so be it.

 

[Sara Roche]

Lieutenant Sara 'Meteor' Roche
GADF Marines, 222nd Nova Corps, 121st (Augmented) Battalion, 3rd Company, 3rd Platoon, Ad-hoc Squad​

Location: Southern sector, New Aldera, New Alderaan
Objective: Halt the Imperial offensive
ENGAGING: Melvain Braxis

He stood up from the crate he was sitting on, the plastoid box creaking loudly in protest as the stress from his armor and weight was released. The sound cut through the near silence of the abandoned suburb. A smog or mist had obscured him from view for a time, though with all of the chaos he doubted they would have noticed him sitting there anyways. With the Force he cut a path straight through the fog, the force sending his own cape billowing.

The sound sent everyone on high alert. Weapons drawn and sensors activated. Through the fog came a tall man, a Knight dramatically stepping through, weapon as yet sheathed.

"Eyes up," the Lieutenant ordered, tossing the scattergun to the Corporal, who had lost his weapon. He snatched it out of the way and racked it taking cover behind a crate.

<"Haskin, take Jorn and Agsey and keep out of sight. Stay behind the APC to my right and flank him. Look out for any ambushers from that angle. Weq'al, remain in your sentry post and scan for any other life signs in the direction of where the hostile came from."> If the Knight was trying anything funny, Sara would know almost immediately.

Alliance Marines," he said, his voice tired but with all of the command of an Imperial Moff. "Stand down." He pulled his lightsaber from his belt. "Stand down and no harm will come to you."

Sara flexed her gloves and unlimbered her Chainblaster, all six barrels pointed at Braxis, and attached grenade launcher syncing to her helmet's cams.

"Harm has already come to us, Imp. And not to be the usual gung-ho ground-pounder, but we appear to have you outnumbered. So jog on over to your execution grounds in the city square and go back to preying on Tionese civilians." Sara did not know if the rumours were true, or if the Knight even knew of it, but talking bought Haskin time to flank and Weq'al time to report on any Imperial support in the area.

 

[Melvain Braxis]

Engaging: Sara Roche

That had not been the answer the Knight had been looking for. With a low snap-hiss his white blade came to life, whisps of fog hissing as they came into contact with it. Melvain didn't waste any time. He had given them all the warning he needed. The galaxy had been through too many wars with Force users at their forefront to not know what one was capable of in battle, especially one not locked down by the dogma of the Jedi.

"Do not curse me in the afterlife then. I gave you a choice. You chose." With Force enhanced speed he was almost a blur. He sped into a pair of troopers, stopping just before them and turning the weapons to slag in their hands with his blade as they brought the barrels to bear. He swung his off-hand towards the wreck of the transport and sent the pair flying through the air with the Force. One landed with a sickening crunch and the transport tilted slightly from the sudden impact.

"I am so tired," he muttered. "But this is your own doing." He balled his hand into a fist.

"For the Empire." The white knight fell on the group of marines like a hungry nexu, blade dancing a deadly ballet.

 

[Sylus (Γ059)]

█████ - Rama-Actual
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
TASK FORCE ████
New Aldera Orbital Defense Base, New Alderaan
TAGS: Monos Phaineve Halseigh

​

Squeezing along the tunnels, Sylus could not avoid making noise, though he did his best to minimise it. Alas:

By instinct, the pilot-turned-mechanic chimed her fellow War Hog on a direct line. "Mox, where are you!? What's your status?!"

Mox would have continued, but another deep thud from behind (the volume of which indicated a much larger individual than him) could be heard throughout the shaft. Mox quickly spun back and saw what he could only categorize as a mean-looking supersoldier in a cyber-suit. Immediately, he was on the edge of fight or flight. This was bad. Thinking quick, he sent a brief reply back to Phaineve. – 'Kay, defend core. Close blastdoors. I try slow him.

Sylus reacted the moment the tiny alien turned around. He placed his hands and feet along the walls of the tunnel and launched himself forward, almost sailing through the tight confines. Mox was too small to accurately hit, but he could use his body to, well, induce high kinetic damage.

Convinced of the intruder's ill intentions despite not seeing a clear indication of his affiliation, without a second thought he draws his peashooter of a blaster pistol from his back and discharges two shots at the man.

The first shot missed, searing into and discharging its energy into the wall. The other glanced off Sylus' shoulder. If he could feel the pain through the suit and his enhancements, he did not show it, as momentum continued to direct him towards Mox. Enough that he reached out to grab the alien-

Right as the second blaster bolt leaves his mini-weapon, he points upward with his free hand, clicks a concealed button on his wrist and grapples upward with his forearm-mounted rope launcher to hopefully escape the wrath of this Imperial assailant as soon as he can.

Sylus just missed by inches, his hand grabbing air. Adrenaline and alchemical muscles kicked in and time seemed to slow as the agent watched Mox grapple upward. The Force flooded into him even as his unnaturally fused nerves fired off, allowing him to twist mid-air swinging one arm outward towards the ascending Mox, grabbing at the rope, while the other drew his pistol and fired off a shot. Unlikely to hit, but likely to slow or shock the alien.

 

[Kaul "Joker" Emos]

"Oh I'm watching my six!" Kaul turned his gaze to the next target. "I'm focused on getting your 500 credits man!" Kaul's X-Wing targeting system locked onto the nearest TIE Interceptor unleashing a hail of blaster flak. Due to the fragility of the Interceptor, it only took about three hits for it to go down spiraling out of control and smashing against another TIE interceptor that was trying to chase down one of Kaul's squadmates.

"Double kill bro!" Kaul yelled out while zipping through the mosh pit of laser exchange. "I haven't been this alive since Jedha! Where you at Mylo!"

<I'm happy that you were finally able to do fulfill your duty.> R2 issued a long beep in which Kaul saw was a long sigh.

"I gotta do something," Kaul said performing a barrel roll dodging incoming missiles from a streaking TIE fighter. " Tren Chaar has been on my ass for doing the bare minimum lately. Only doing patrolling never participating in the battles. I had a feeling he was going to space me if I don't engage the Imperials."

The Pilot sighed. "It's such a drag!" He moaned. "But what can I do?"

Just then Mylo warned that there were TIE Drone classes ahead. "I see them!" He said linking up with Mylo. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Kaul switched to his proton torpedoes. "On your command!"

Allies: Mylo Thorne, Bané Zirbils , Liram Angellus , Liedran Kathause , Andien Gale , Shar Sieu

Enemies: Caarlyle Rausgeber , Ignacious Korvan , Velran Kilran

 

[Sahar]

Sahar|Imperial Knights|Tion Operation
Tags:// Kyell Laysel

A L I N T I S A R

That's what she wanted to see out of him, hatred and rage, the first sweet part of accepting defeat and the no hope of the situation. Sahar sweetly relished that pure rank hatred that emanated from the mute; it reminded her of her own hatred for those of his kind that dared defile the Emperor's law.

"And yet here they lay, dead at your own feet and nothing to show for yourself, you silly boy."

She darkly laughed, turning around just in time as the purple saber bit at the armour on her chest and just missed as she jumped back and quickly pulled her leg up to the side and allowing her thigh to absorb the brunt of the savage leg kick. Sahar used the boy's momentum in that moment, using that precious few seconds between the kick to rush him and grab him by the arms and yank him into a vicious headbutt.

"Using my own tricks against me?" Sahar angrily retorted, spitting blood out of her mouth and laughing half angry half-amused at the audacity of the Jedi. She was going easy, allowing a reprieve and mercy to the Padawan which she did not easily bestow upon opponents worth her time and rank. No, this Padawan was just a plaything until it's master decided to show face.

This time she spoke to him on his own level. In his mind.

t-"You coward."
​

 

[Silas Westgard]

Location: New Aldera Orbital Defense Base
Objective: Aegis of Liberty
Tags: Valery Noble / Lily Stevens

Silas strongly nodded to the point out of their target and soon made sure to ignite his lightsaber. Running around the corner blaster fire met them with dangerous intent, hitting the floor and walls all around them. Silas skidded and lunged behind a large container crate with an alliance soldier, who tried his best to fire his blaster behind the cover given to them. Before they came, their troops were quickly losing ground. Now that they were here, it was time to regain some of that back.

"You got it! keep them busy for me!"

Looking to Valery first he saw her reflect a barrage of blaster shots at the imperials, keeping them pinned for now as Silas had a chance to strike. Without hesitation, he jumped over the crate and kept his lightsaber in front of him, running straight towards the doorway he spotted earlier with two Imperial soldiers who were knelt. Silas deflected and dodged the blaster fire that came his way, but thankfully there weren't too many thanks to Valery sticking to her promise. The soldiers in the doorway peeked around only to see the padawan right in front of them, his saber extended and slamming downwards into their blasters. Like a hot knife to butter, their guns crashed to the floor before a large swing of his saber made them fall motionless themselves.

Silas took a deep breath and looked back to the doorway from within the room, using the rare peaceful seconds to figure out what he was going to do next. As he glared down, his eyes took notice of a grenade on one of the soldier's belts. He curiously knelt and tugged it off the body, making sure to be careful in not arming them just yet. He was close enough to do some real damage if he managed to throw them into the corridor, all he needed was to throw them at the right time.

"<< I have a plan Master. Be prepared for some fireworks in a few moments>>"

Carefully, he moved himself over to the doorway and looked down at the grenade. In all honesty, the padawan didn't know how long to press. A silly thought made him think not long enough would lead to instant detonation. Silas took a deep breath and hovered his fingers over the button, looking down at it with insecurity he pressed down for five seconds before lobbing it into the corridor as close to the front line enemy troops as possible.

Even if it didn't do too much damage, it would at least disorientate some of them for their troops to launch an attack of their own.

 

[Shorurra Groznik]

'If you are your own Wookie as you say you are, then you will listen an' you will listen well.... First off, you don't want to be sizing me up like that, not even maybe. You know my name but that appears to be where your intel-gathering met it's untimely conclusion, so I'll just leave that one with ya. But in the meantime - I can answer these queries o' yours quite easily, Groznik. Quite easily indeed.'

Pointing to the hilt of his songsteel cavalry-sabre, the Tuath smiled proudly as he drawled,'You see, I brought this here with me because justice demands it of me also. And while you are partially correct that you owe me no explanation, I'm not so sure GA or Ashlan authorities would see it that way.... You shouldn't be eligible for service for as long as your loyalties remain undecided like this, but we'll get to that.', pausing for a moment to remember what it was the Wookie was asking him after his first statement. Then the realisation hit him almost a couple seconds later, continuing,'Ah, yes. The question I put forth before, but flung back at me with vitriol of course.... Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, that plea for help was just the moment they chose the competition over negotiations. You are not immune to propaganda, Groznik. I'm here protecting Galidraan as I always have, an' there's not a single false pretence that can be found in that.', reaching into his pocket for another cigarra as he framed the conclusion of his response carefully.

Growrie, it seemed, was a talker. There was much and more that Shorurra could say- that Growrie knew nothing of his loyalties, that he hadn't come to New Alderaan in any capacity but as a Jedi, that his Wookie marines were old friends, not his soldiers- that he had come to command the GA forces through a fluke accident and popular appeal, that he could serve wherever and whenever he darn well pleased - but instead, he said nothing, instead eyeing the man again in blatant provocation. He would not explain himself to Growie, nor would he let himself ordered. Let the Imperial's vaunted intel-gathering unravel the story behind how he assumed command.

"Protecting Galidraan from New Aldera, aye? Hmph, whatever you need to tell yourself, Growie. Don't speak to me about propaganda and try to pass off an invasion as an act of justice. An ambassador was killed. You suppose the people of New Alderaa were the assassins?"

With battle on the horizon, his blood was up, broiling with righteous fury. No doubt like the man across from him. The thought was sobering.

This is not the Jedi way. The Wookie breathed in sharply, wide nostrils flaring, and exhaled his frustrations into the Force before they mounted into anger, emptying himself. He breathed in again, and that emptiness was filled with Light. Growie had pulled a cigarra from his pocket and responded to a message on his datapad.

"I will answer to the proper authorities when the time comes Growie, and not a moment sooner. Now what do you want? Why did you call me here?"