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No more unjustices uninhibited. No more battles he sat idly out of. No more hiding. No more sulking. The beastly, red-saber wielding hordes of the Maw, the Sith came, frothing at the mouth to destroy Tython.
From what Tracyn understood, a beastly, cruel ritual- to cut deep into Tython, to rip it apart, and cast all that was good into the echoes of space.
He had to stop it- or at least, help stop it. Tracyn had his time, tucked away on Jedha or other remote planets, biding his time until death came for him, or a revelation or the meditation or booze worked. The latter two did not work, but there was one thing that did. The return of Asha Seren. From then, something spurred Tracyn forward. The force called him to Tython.
And old friends called him to action.
Thurion, Coren. For the better part of almost two decades, he had seen most of them only a handful of times.
But no more.
Tracyn's new green blade flickered to life as he entered the battlefield alongside Thurion, the Jedi in him overtaking the Mandalorian Supercommando. A nearby Acolyte, or Warrior rather- curled his red blade into his hand, his eerie and grim mask making it's way to Tracyn's visage. Tracyn held the blade across his body, in the traditional Djem So stance. Tracyn moved first, moving straight forward, reaching up and catching the enemy's blade on his. They held each there, their strengths matching.
Tracyn pushed his bodyweight on his shoulder- and deactivated his lightsaber, causing the Warrior to stumble forward. Tracyn angled his lightsaber behind him- and cut the Warrior through the back, instantly killing them.
He swirled the blade forward, heading to reinforce the friendly troops, stopping near Thurion, one of the few men he could call his friend.
Amani crested a small hill, beyond which lay the source she had been searching for. She stopped in her tracks, locking eyes with Surea.
A temporary distraction came in the form of another presence. A boy, one she didn't recognize physically, though they had met before. The Sith, however, was quick to keep the attention on her. She wanted the fight.
Not that this was a surprise.
In spite of her baser instinct, Amani relaxed her stance, planting the staff into the ground by her side, "I want to help you. I really do. We can find a way to cure you. Make you whole again. But you have to leave this behind. Please." This was the compromise she chose to make; A second chance. There would not be a third. And given how the last encounter went, Amani wasn't going to hold her breath.
Which is exactly why her free hand hovered over the slugthrower pistol concealed on her hip.
It wasn't a long trek, but with so much going through his mind, it felt like an eternity. From his concerns about the battle at hand to things back home, such as the growing pro-war presence in an unchecked senate, or the decision of whether or not to execute The Dobson Crime Family. So many duties, so many problems...but now it was time to focus. The Flesh Raider camp was just moments away-within view-and the army wasn't going to lead itself.
The plan was determined days ago, though as a very wise man (or maybe it was just some huttese criminal) had said, "Planning is essential. Plans are worthless." It meant, always have a plan, but always be ready for it to change. The wisdom in the quote rivaled things that even Rex's mentor, Martin Dux had said before, and for whatever reason it stuck with him. So he didn't make a very complex plan, besides, the enemy was a group of primitive savages that barely knew how to use modern weaponry.
The Stormtrooper battalions would lead the charge while the Therato Medium Assault Walkers launch their full ordinance: 225x Various Missiles. The idea was that the shock of such a bombardment followed by the elite Stormtrooper assault would demoralize The Flesh Raiders, putting them in a panic. The rest would be a quick cleanup as the five-hundred infantry spread out and finish off any remaining flesh raiders. The plan was Rex's, though some officers in the army had an idea that was nothing short of genocide. They hadn't even hidden their intentions. They had claimed that the flesh raiders have always been a thorn in the side of whomever inhabits Tython, and thus they advocated for a limited extermination of the native beings to teach a lesson they would not forget. It made Rex question himself, because what actions had he taken that would make his officers believe he would accept a genocide!? He immediately relived them of their command, barring them from any military service, ever.
But now he was here...the chaos of battle in the distance, and the constant reminder that his foes wanted nothing more than the complete destruction of this planet, just like Csilla...
Wait. The Flesh Raiders...they are territorial, they wouldn't want their planet to be destroyed, surely!?
Confused, Rex thought on it for a moment. What could The Maw have done to get the raiders on their side? If anything these creatures should be Allies of The Jedi, even if reluctantly, in order to save their home. Why defend their territory if there'd be no territory after this? Perhaps he could persuade them to turn against The Maw.
Sometimes a grand vision can get in the way of common sense. As the rainwater spread Surea’s rot through the soil, and Kai’s brain began adding up the various circumstances standing in the way of his plan of frying the rotting Sith with lightning, the boy gave up his original idea entirely. The storm promptly abated, the cloud over Surea dissipating.
Kai started walking across the field. A third party entered the fray—a familiar Mirialan woman named Amani. It looked like she was on his side, too. Cool, two against one.
She had already given Surea the offer to surrender as well. Great, less waiting around for the Sith to strike first. Who came up with that idiotic rule, anyway? They were in the middle of a battle, everyone came there to fight, there should be no hesitation. No offers of mercy that gave the Sith a chance to do something heinous or tricky.
Kai walked with a pep in his step, unhooking his lightsaber from his belt. Mud and melted grass squashed beneath his boots with every step. The blade ignited, and Kai lunged, aiming to stab Surea in the back.
Jedi and Sith clasheed, as they were meant to. It was inevitable. Many a Sith would pontificate about how on this day they would eclipse the feeble light and destroy Ashla. Libertas did not view it in such terms. Not that she was a 'kindly' Sith or such nonsense. But the light was not pathetically feeble. If it were so, the Sith would've actually achieved their Grand Plan in full.
Strong Jedi were a necessity to prevent complacency from setting in. Elsewise the Sith would grow weak and indolent. To achieve true strength, one had to be tested in the fires of the forge, just as any blade. From that standpoint, the arrival of so many Jedi was to be welcomed, even though it impeded her work.
The tremors were intensifying. Lightning flashed overhead.
Explosions blossomed, as landing craft were consumed by orange fireballs. Smoke rose up into the sky. Searing beams of laser fire lit up the sky.
Mawite fanatics were hurling themselves at Jedi and Alliance soldiers with reckless abandon. The few minions she had brought had dug themselves into cover, and unleashed precise fire on the interlopers. Libertas did not micromanage them. That was what the people on the ground were for. Their goal was quite simple, grab what they had come for and pull out. The enchantment woven into her armour manifested a strong aura. One that invigorated those who stood with her, and repelled those who opposed her. Blaster bolts whizzed past her and a stray shot smacked against her armour. The Twi'lek grunted, but stood. A clench of her fist sent a soldier flying into a pillar.
Amidst the darkness, she picked up strong auras of Light, drawing closer. The hum of lightsabres resonated across the street. Two Jedi confronted her. A Quarren and a Twi'lek. Master and apprentice, by the looks of it. The Quarren met her head-on. She was fast - very much so - unleashing a staccato of strikes while deftly avoiding Libertas' heavy blows. Trying to throw her off balance. When she turned a blow aside, the Padawan struck from behind before she could riposte. Smoke coiled from Libertas' forearm.
And then electricity crawled over her body as the Jedi Master released a powerful blast of ion energy. Immediately Libertas' body twitched badly, shaking. Crying out in pain, she was driven to her knees, with the ion surge threatening to overwhelm her defences and cripple her. Light coalesced around her hand. Not Force Light obviously, but a dazzlingly bright flash of light. She heard the Quarren cry out in pain from being struck. The Sith used her chance, and flung the Padawan into debris.
The Quarren attacked anew, but she forcefully turned her strike aside with enough force to knock the blade out of her grasp and cause her to stumble. The air was filled with the Padawan's piercing cry when Libertas stomped on the Master's foot, crushing bone, and clove through her skull. A telekinetic blast born of agony picked up the Sith and slammed her in the nearest wall.
She was trying it again? Surea tilted her head. Even after all the damage she'd done? Burning down that make shift quarantine zone with all those afflicted by her rot inside? Then again, maybe the Jedi had caught the rot and her mind was already drifting away. She paused for just a moment, long enough to feel for it. Nothing. So this is what a Jedi was? Pointlessly asking to spare a fight.
Surea would've laughed, but the boy from before didn't have those limits. Her mechanical hand turned, bringing her saber up behind her to catch the strike. Force it away with the limbs artificial strength. "He gets it, doesn't he?" She grinned. She'd always hated fighting before. A means to an end, to serve her owner. To kill for their sake and desire. But now? Power. Strength. Freedom. Choosing to fight, she loved it.
The shaman was in the pod with him; Romul could hear her muttering incantations to the spirits of their ancestors to protect their journey. He was not as fervent in his spiritualism as the mages of the Mando'karla, but he was not one to deny the tactical advantages their powers gave them. Her magic was cloaking their approach, and though he could feel the shudder of point-defense fire, the pod remained intact. The interior of the boarding pod was spartan; it was not meant for a long flight, but there was a rudimentary tactical readout at the front for a pod's commander to monitor their journey. So far, from what Romul could decipher from the primary readout, their approach was hardly being noticed.
Were the Maw actually deceived? Or did they not perceive the Mandalorian's as a threat? Either way, their inaction would be their downfall.
"Approaching target. Brace for impact," a monotone droid voice announced over the boarding pod's comm system driving all other thoughts from mind. Romul unslung Kyr'bes Ga'na, his massive beskar war axe, holding it in a tight two-hand grip as he prepared for what they would face once thrust into the breach.
The pod shook with a massive CA-CLUNK as it suddenly impacted, driving through steel sheets that at the boarding pod's incredible velocity crumbled like loosely-packed Kestrian snow. Impossibly, inside the Mandalorians felt only a slight jolt as their velocity decreased from hundreds of kilometers per second to zero in only a few seconds, inertial dampers ablative and otherwise working overtime to prevent their passengers from turning into jelly on impact. There was silence for a moment complimented only by the creaking of metal around them and the dull echoings of THUDS as other pods impacted around them, before the nose of the boarding pod began to slide open. Cleaving an entrance as the nose split into four prongs, the Mandalorians spilled into the ship with a massive war cry.
Their arrival had been unexpected, or at least the Maw defenders had not been given ample time to defend. Despite the klaxons that blared, only twenty or so Mawite warband soldiers were in the immediate vicinity, and half of their number had been crushed by the boarding pod's impact. The other ten were overwhelmed easily, Romul cleaving through three of them cleanly, his beskar war axe spilling their entrails onto the dark floor beneath them. "Gather yourselves," he commanded when the last enemy was dead. They had a moment of respite, but it would not last for long; their presence was known, and soon the thousands upon thousands of Mawite savages aboard the ship would be driving towards them. They would have to spill blood for every meter of the ship they crossed.
"Witch," he spoke, addressing Runi, "use your magics to defend us in the ways you know best. If there is Sith trickery here, we will need you to decipher and disperse it, and most especially do not let us be caught unawares. Gallius, what is the status of our forces?" He asked, turning to his right-hand lieutenant.
"Only three pods lost," the Saxon warrior grunted back after a moment, a finger on a comms device as he communicated with the rest of the boarding force.
Romul nodded slowly, satisfied. Any loss was one that could've been avoided, and those were forty-eight warriors that the Enclave would miss dearly. But they had died a warrior's death and would live the rest of existence in the halls with their forefathers, a fate that was the best any of them could hope for. Romul would ensure that their sacrifice would not be in vain. "What of the rest of our forces?"
"We are spread generally throughout three different levels, all immediate to each other," Gallius reported, drawing out his datapad as the Mandalorians from Romul's pod began to establish a perimeter. On the right and left they were already linking with other pod groups, the Mandalorian force beginning to coalesce and solidify. They had to regroup quickly; or else each pod's group would be easy prey and end up being picked off one by one.
"Our location is in a corridor network adjacent to one of the superweapon's rear hangar bays," he continued, showing Romul on the datapad the preliminary interior surveys the Saxon warrior had carried out. "Beyond that my sensors are dark, but there should be some sort of terminal to slice into in a hangar bay.
Romul nodded. "Get the message out. Push to the hangar bay. We will rendezvous and begin our sabotage from there." Raising his war axe over his head, he cried, "DARASUUM KOTE!" The rest of the Mandalorians echoed his cry as they rallied to Romul, and with their roars reverberating through the Avatar of War's interior, they charged into the deep.
Amani had tried it the old way. But time and time again it proved ineffective. As much as she didn’t like accepting the ultimatum laid out in front of her, she could now act with peace of mind.
A healer does not mourn the eradication of a virus. Of a disease.
And so neither would she.
“Okay.” Amani quickly drew her pistol, unloading the entire clip at Surea with precision that could only be offered by the aid of the Force. Attempting to block the slugs with a saber would only end with a hail of melted slag striking her instead.
“I should’ve killed you on Kesh.” She spoke with a cold lack of emotion or conflict. Her soul was right where it needed to be. This was not some revolutionary concept; Jedi had stained the annals of history in red time and time again, all in the name of peace and prosperity. Amani was tired of pretending that defending what she cared for was not worth the life of an irredeemable villain.
Tython's skies were on fire, yet Vector hardly noticed. He breathed in forest air with a happy sigh and bent down to feel the soil. Captain Monk slowly closed his hand into a fist allowing dirt to sift through his gloved fingers. If the Final Dawn escort was annoyed by his theatricality their training prevented any signs of it from manifesting.
"Can you feel it, Creature?" he asked breathlessly, "Can you feel the history?"
"I think I'm dying."
"Always with a clever remark!" Monk laughed, "Now let's see what we can find."
He placed a garish looking monocle against one eye and tapped its rim to activate the scanning function. Coordinates that he discovered in a dig site on Jedha had already been uploaded. It took a few tense seconds of calibration before faint pinging brought another fiendish smile to the tomb robber's face.
"I say, our hidden underground entrance should be around here somewhere," the Final Dawn agent loudly announced, "If I could only see the look on that fool Nimdok's face when he reads about my latest accolades!"
"To defeat an enemy, you must break them before you engage them." The Dark Lord turned to look at His apprentice, Teresa. "Only then will you have achieved victory." Even in the midst of ferocious combat, the Dark Lord sought to impart His teachings upon His ardent pupil. It was through such crucibles that true Sith were born, not heeding to lessons in a rigid academy. Academies had their place, as did many things, but they were only a tool to weed out the strong from the weak; nothing more. It was upon the teacher who chose their students from among these survivors to mold them into Sith.
But His wisdom would have to be spared for another time, the Force drawing the Dark Lord's gaze to not one, but two adversaries. Both were intimately known to the Dark Lord, and neither would be satiated until He acknowledged them upon the battlefield. Briefly turning His gaze back to Pellax, the Dark Lord informed His apprentice of her duties. "Ascend to the summit, lead my forces against those that protect the seeing stone. Leave none standing." With that, the Dark Lord turned with a flourish of His cape and began walking towards His enemies.
The fighting seemed to part around them like water around a stone in a stream. A trail of dead and dying followed in the Mandalorian's wake, cut down by His superior skill in combat. No such carnage marked the Jedi Master's passing, his strength in the Force a mighty bulwark against any violence. He carried with him a blade of azure fire, resolute in his faith as a stalwart enemy of the dark. Carnifex regarded them both carefully, for neither were to be disregarded nor underestimated. Either of them would have been a match for His grandest lieutenants, but now they faced Him together; strange allies in a strange time.
There was a hiss of compressed air being released, twin puffs vented out either side of the Dark Lord's helmet. Metal retracted to reveal the Dark Lord's shadowed face, both of His eyes glowing bright despite the gloom. "We meet again upon a field sown with the blood of martyrs. The wolves howl and snarl, teeth stained with blood. Which of us shall contribute to this banquet?" He raised His blood-red lightsaber up to illuminate His face, each angle and contour made even sharper by the fierce light. Cunning eyes watched both of them as they neared, a brief calm descending upon them despite the chaos that engulfed everything around them. The last deep breath before the plunge.
"Let it be finished." The metal segments of the Dark Lord's helmet slipped back into place, pressurizing with another hiss of air as both visor-eyes glowed bright red with actuation. He rushed forward, the Dark Side giving wicked speed to His legs, and snapped out at the Jedi Master with a torrent of bright carnelian lightning. His other hand held aloft His lightsaber, blade angled in the Mandalorian's direction to shield against the warrior's attacks. He advanced down the center between them, intent on coming between them and breaking their line of contact. Regardless of whether they would aid one another, the Dark Lord would leave little to chance.
Primary Objective: Steal the Avatar of War for the Mandalorian Enclave. Secondary Objective: Pass the Verd'goten and make buir proud... or die. Location: The Avatar of War, above Tython. Equipment: In bio. Friendlies: Enclave, NIO, GA, everything else not associated with Maw. Enemies: Maw, Maw, Maw, and any allies of Maw. Tags:Romul SaxonKranak VizslaVulcan KraytKaz KraytDomina Prime
and I ain't tagging the rest.
Running through the busy halls, an armored figure was hunting. The pale young woman with short white hair was looking around for something. Down a hallway, she saw a towering figure in full beskar'gam making his way through the ship. The girl stopped for a moment, clenching the buy'ce she was holding, then darted towards him.
"Buir!"
He paused, looking over his shoulder. As Gwyneira ran up to him, he affectionately greeted her, <"Gwyn'ika!">
Gwyn skidded to a halt, still holding her buy'ce in her hand. She looked up at her father, visible worry and doubt in her cybernetic eyes. Her facial features were soft as she spoke, "Buir, please, be careful. This is a massive battle, and..."
Her vocal chords cracked, her voice weak. She looked down, clenching her free fist. The irony was, she desired for her buir to live, while wishing for an end here herself. Halfheartedly. She felt the distant call of purpose here, but it was far too difficult chaining herself to such a tragic galaxy. Despite her own apathy for her own life, she was desperate to know that Kranak Vizsla would survive and flourish. She needed him to. He was all she had left...
That was when he lovingly caressed her hair, gentle and soft. She looked up to him with pleading, loving eyes. Then, he told her to follow him.
Of course she followed. She walked beside him through the halls, looking up to him as she tucked her buy'ce under her arm. As they walked, she listened to his warnings and suggestions. Kranak was far more experienced than her, he had trained her himself. She nodded, serious and firm as she remained silent until they reached the armory. Despite his serious tone, she knew he was anxious. As much as she yearned for rest, she was willing to stay alive for him.
"I understand. Don't worry about me."
He stopped her next to the armory. He pulled off his buy'ce, something he never did in these situations. They were getting ready for battle, he usually was in the mode. He was responsible for a large amount of organization in this vicious battle. Why...
"This is your Verd'goten."
Gwyn's cybernetic eyes immediately widened.
Her Verd'goten. The moment she had waited on for so long. The moment she was more than just a Foundling, an outcast brought in and halfway. She would finally be significant. No longer a student, a learner. No longer just aiming to achieve. No longer just a kid. She would be a true Mandalorian. Her own Mandalorian. After all this time, complete acceptance. A floodgate of emotions, and she shivered as Kranak Vizsla looked her in the eyes. His expression filled with love, fear, anxiety, and pride. How he held his arms, the weight of everything crashing down. Her Verd'goten.
A flame she had not felt in a long time flickered. A spark. A feeling she seldom felt, an emotion she had nearly forgotten... excitement. Hopefulness. Desire for something.
She staggered, nearly falling over as her weight doubled in her buir's arms. She looked down, mouth agape.
"My..."
A tear fell and slammed into the metal floor.
He held her, emotional and raw as he held her close. She closed her eyes and buried her head in his chestplate as he spoke.
"Stay strong, stay safe, and stay alive. Remember what I taught you. You will make it, I know you will."
She was still buzzing from the conversation as she looked down at the floor of Vulcan's pod. It was absolute majesty and terror, feeling everything fly by. The pod rattled and shook in the fray. She had to trust Vulcan to get the pod to its destination. The young Mandalorian gripped her rifle as they neared the weapon. She could sense every bolt barely missing the pod. Even more, she could sense too many Force signatures down on the planet. The Force was screaming at her, making it difficult to concentrate during the dangerous ride. She was both lost in space and drowning in noise. She was snapped out of the Force's burial of signals as the pod slammed into the side of the superweapon. Realizing she never looked at this thing from the outside during this battle, Gwyn gave her head a good shake. She had always been hyper sensitive to the Force, and now she was struggling to focus on the mission. She bit her lip, hoping the small pain would help her return to the physical world.
She leapt from her seat and jumped out of the pod. She gripped her light repeating blaster and immediately checked around for the enemy. Unable to rely on the muddied Force for all its intensity, she instead focused on using her H.U.D. and cybernetic eyes to see around. As she and the squad took out enemies, Gwyn continued to feel overlooked by the Force. The ever present blaster fire and shouting was too distant, she felt in a trance of sorts. By the end of the small skirmish, she had somehow switched to holding her Borealis and Ra'ntisr pistols. She looked back to her squad, struggling to hide her strange state of being.
She heard the message in her comlink about the rendezvous point and looked over to her fellow vode.
THIS IS NOT 100% ACCURATE
just something I copy pasted together from others posts and 'tl;dr' parts to base myself reading all/most posts, and thought others could like to see it
Preparing for combat and surveying field, kneeling down and alone somewhere in the Elysium square. Ready to slap a wound and heal allies or start firing.
Belt:
Rations (For prolonged scouting) Red Drops vial
01 Vital Suppressor
01 Energy Bola
Grenades (2 of each):
Sonic
Flash
EMP
Smoke
The position is good. Zet keeps to the high ground to oversee incoming danger, which pretty much increases his chances by 99% at least, and his weapons are ready. His senses are sharp, enhanced by a mix of fear and adrenaline, and he is ready to do his job. Not far from him the Elysium forces are at the ready. Some are staying and some are charging. Zet chooses to tag along the group advancing. He's curious about this planet, and it might be the first, and last, chance he gets.
And staying on the move will keep him sharp. The last thing he should do right then and there is to relax.
Flesh Raiders. Some of the native creatures to this planet. He is not sure about what level of intelligence those creatures possess, but with that name they are probably primitives and easily scared by big explosions. In theory, at least. But then, Sorcerer's planet, who knows if logic even apply here.
Zet Reav is not going to the front lines yet, but he will be close enough to taste combat and to see those creatures. His red armor marking him as different from the common Elysium soldiers about to do all the work opening a path. But all in all, so far so good. He almost wishes for some difficulty to make this job more interesting and-
Alessandra was beginning to confirm what she had suspected from the moment she first laid eyes on the Terminatrix.
In spite of her organic construction, the Neuromesh fibers in the Chaplain’s digital-biological processing systems afforded her the ability to pick up details which would escape the notice of an unaugmented human. The subtle physics of the Terminatrix’s gait—even though she moved with an unerring grace—was the first cue that pointed to her nature. She was heavy, far heavier than a typical organic woman of her stature. With the impact of the twin maser beams on her shield, unleashing a devastating mix of kinetic and laser energy, the Terminatrix was merely staggered back, where others might have been ripped asunder or thrown back.
And so, the truth became immediately evident to the Chaplain. The Terminatrix was a sister. A sister who was enslaved by the Maw.
The use of HRDs by the Maw was unprecedented, as far as she was aware. The Maw had a reputation as scavengers, a practice which they still utilized even with the many belching factories producing various war materiel in their territories. While the Terminatrix wasn’t a Nuetralizer, Alessandra could not help but to empathize with the enemy HRD, even as both gynoids made to kill each other. Ironically, the empathy Alessandra towards a fellow HRD outweighed the strength of any charitable feeling she had for an organic soldier of the Alliance or the New Imperial Order.
And she paid the price for it.
In spite of the weight of the weapon, the Terminatrix was terribly strong, wielding the lumbering gun with the ease that a trained, unaugmented human might carry a carbine. It went without saying that the Mawite gynoid’s response was striking and devastating, unleashing a volley of explosive slugs from her bolter that carried the potential to blow the Chaplain to pieces in the ensuing blasts, However, their trajectory was halted by a small inhibition field generated by Alessandra’s heart, which doubled as a dovin basal. For a split-second the field of altered gravity held its integrity, stopping the first four slugs before they could strike, and giving Alessandra precious time to fly backwards via her repulsor cells, moving further from the kill radius of the anticipated blasts, in addition to activating her energy shield. However, such actions were only mitigating measures. As the last slug was fired and trapped by the field, the suspended projectiles went off in a terrific explosion that sent Alessandra flying back six meters, briefly stunned as she tumbled gracelessly across the ground in her landing. The energy shield was immediately overloaded by the explosion, but it had done its job in keeping her in one piece, the only sign that she had been in an explosion being the smoke rising from her form.
Systems briefly scrambled, Alessandra recovered quickly, lifted herself up from the ground via her repulsors in eerie, inhuman fashion. The blast had left a massive crater in the terrain, but the smoke was obscuring her view of the enemy gynoid, compelling her to switch her photoreceptors to the ultrasonic vision module, anticipating that the lingering heat from the explosion might make the thermal module of little use.
Target acquired.
In spite of the powerful explosion only moments before, Alessandra had no intention of backing off, especially when the Mawite gynoid might think her weak. Immediately, the Chaplain closed the distance to the Terminatrix with a sudden burst of acceleration via her repulsors at the velocity of a fast groundcar, flying behind, then through the plume of smoke created by the blast as a means to conceal her approach. Simultaneously, the sonic organ in her throat unleashed a rippling shockwave in an ear splitting, synthetic howl, the focused blast aimed to strike the gynoid’s center mass from a little over 20 meters away and rapidly closing. It was a powerful weapon, but the Chaplain was under no delusions of it putting an end to the fight so soon, unless she was extremely lucky. As such, after a half-second blast, Alessandra ignited her energy sword, honing in on the gynoid as she closed in to less than six meters from her position.
Alessandra catches the five explosive slugs fired by Uriel’s heavy bolter in an inhibition field. However, as soon as the last slug is caught by the field, they go off in a large explosion that throws her back six meters.
In spite of mitigating action, Alessandra’s energy shield is completely overloaded by the blast.
Alessandra recovers quickly, lifting herself from the ground via her repulsors before charging Uriel through the smoke. Simultaneously, she unleashes a shockwave at her from the sonic organ in her throat, aiming for center mass.
“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster”- Friedrich Nietzsche
You stopped for caf, didn’t you?
The feeling was strong. It was shared by all. Although he appeared to be targeted by a seemingly limitless supply of forces, he was still able to make a joke. It was nice to see reinforcements arrive. Now that he was not distracted, trying to take the pressure off of those following him, the big man was able to use not only his newfound resurgence thanks to the effects of Coren Starchaser
, Celeste Rigel
, and the others but the big man could do more. He was freer and freer to take the fight to the attackers.
No more would he react.
No more would he simply stand his ground.
They had to stand theirs.
It was time to put away “Conservator” for now and use his adjustable. It was time to field test ” Vanguard”. Adjusting the length of the weapon to “Pike” and engaging the permafrost blade on one end, and the white/blue/purple hue of the other side the massive Jedi Master closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As two of his Knights were fighting off a small group of Flesh Raiders with their Padawans, the big man saw a group of FINAL DAWN troops being led by three Maw Apprentices and a Sith Lord. Pulling the weapon back and behind him, the big man balled his forehand into a fist before slamming it into the earth. The shockwave sent many of the troopers flying and the Acolytes off of their feet.
They were stepping off of a dropship that was launching to return to the heavens and allow for others of its kind to land. This would not do. A soft growl slowly morphing into a bellowing roar preceded his next move, summoning powerful lightning from the skies which slammed into the said shuttle. The systems burn to a crisp and slowly control was transferring from the pilots to inertia and eventually, gravity which brought the dropship back to the ground, The resulting crash brought a cloud of dust and took that much more space away from others of its kind that might want to land.
Those troops? Those Acolytes? They were attacking again, only this time the Padawans were motivated to fight. They were in over their heads, but they were now fighting hard. Caltin didn’t hear him, but Coren was right, Pacifism was not on the menu today. Today they were here to show the true meaning of just how wrong anyone who believed in the incorrect observation of “Jedi Weakness”. That Sith Lord actually laughed at the fall of his brethren, often muttering the words “Impressive”. It was when he called one of the Acolytes to his side that Caltin just waved for them to “come on” and attack him.
That was their mistake.
He was a force with one saber, with two he was an avalanche, tearing into the two opponents with a ferocity that clearly brought the desire to run as fast as they could in the opposite direction on the faces of the two who would follow the destruction of the planet. It was when the massive Jedi Master felled the two oppressors that he finally looked back at his compatriots, Starchaser, Rigel, and Heavenshield, even the young Justice Lesan
, and nodded.
So, what’s up? All things considered, it really turned out be a nice day, weather-wise.
P O W E R HIGH REGENT OF THE FINAL DAWN
AVATAR OF WAR | TYTHON
Eternal Victory.
He had long dreamed of it. For decades, every action he had ever undertaken had been in service to the Empire, to the Imperial way of life. No cost was too great, no action too evil. Order had to be achieved, and he was its vessel. The Mawite's believed in predestination, why couldn't he? But...there's a difference between him and the common marauder: He wasn't going to die. For thousands of marauders, this was where their crusade would end. They would die glorius deaths in service to their Dark Voice and the Dark Three. All the while, Tirall would live.
Tython on the other hand...
He never had a high opinion of the Jedi Holy World. It was a symbol, and symbols sparked rebellions. Allowing Tython to continue on during the rule of Darth Solipsis
was too dangerous. Unlike Cssila, it wouldn't be an example. It'd be the most holy act ever witnessed by the Congregation of the Dark. Afterall, most of them were on board the Avatar of War with him.
The cult was diverse. Many were rich businessman, others were planetary leaders. If the Senate ever knew the full reach of the Final Dawn, they'd be shocked. The High Regent simply met his congregation with a smile, "My children, the time has come"
They met his question with unadulterated applause. He began to walk slowly to the platform from which he'd address the galaxy. There was no teleprompter- only faux politicians like Aerarii Tithe
needed such a tool. Once he reached the stage, he lowered his hands in a choreographed motion, signaling the congregation to silence themselves.
"You all know your enemy well" He began, "You all assemble here to protect this most holy world from the machinations of the Brotherhood, you assemble to protect the Jedi" He scoffed, "Today, the galaxy stands against evil. Congratulations, you've united the galaxy for the first time in decades. Don't pat yourself on the back, it won't last long. Remember the Elder Pact?"
"Let this be your final act of defiance. The Final Chapter in the Book of Rebellion!"
With a triumphant smile, the High Regent turned to face the cohort of military advisors who'd joined him on the Avatar of War. "To the bridge, we go?"
The professor seemingly appeared out of nowhere, standing alone near the edge of the clearing. Behind him loomed the Kaleth Temple, currently under siege by Mawite forces. In contrast to the bloody battle and the natural disasters afflicting the planet all around him, Nimdok was not even mildly ruffled, nor did he seem particularly concerned about the Final Dawn soldiers nearby. He peered at Monk curiously, one eyebrow raised.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I don’t think we’ve met before. How is it you know my name?”
Aculia notes the superweapon is not angling to fire at the planet and instead is angling to shoot at one of the Allied Force’s dreadnaughts (EE one) indicating that for now at least, the Mawites think they might still have a chance on the ground and thus are unlikely to use it against the planet. To her, this reduces the urgency of taking out the Avatar of War immediately-clearly, the Mawites are not completely unhinged and will likely not do so until they have been decisively defeated on the ground. This buys the Mandalorians time to accomplish their objective-from her forces at least.
Her SAWACs informs her that a transmission was sent out-of-system by the Avatar of War, and she suspects reinforcements may be coming soon, ordering her carrier groups to pull back a bit more extend their gravity well ranges a bit more for more buffer space, to spread out a bit to avoid any concentrated fire from the superlasers, and to ensure they can safely find refuge in one of their allies fleets if necessary. She also beams a message to warn the Tython forces. She then proceeds to use them to begin electronic countermeasures against the Fatalis's missile deactivator transmitter.
She orders her fighters and bombers to divert to attack the Strike Force Bogan’s escorting Star Destroyers instead of the Fatalis, something that is much easier to do and will result in far less casualties. This is because they are 1. Quite fast and maneuverable compared to the capital ships, especially the Fatalis, and have free range due to the group not deploying any fighter screen or having dedicated anti-strike corvettes or frigates. This is even more advantageous as Bogan, unlike Sularen, did not deploy their strikecraft to deny easily changing approach vectors, has no real frigate screen, cannot easily change positions quickly due to being comprised largely of hefty capital ships. 2. The Fatalis abandoning its longer-range guns which could have denied approach vectors, in favor of shorter range point defense weapons, which are mostly useful if one is directly attacking the ship or its immediate vicinity itself rather than long-range vector denying capability 3. The escorts are continuing to focus fire on House Io ships and are underprepared for a massive strike from multiple angles, and have not formed defensive ranks against such a threat and will likely not have time to do so completely before being slammed.
Four, she opens an encrypted channel to any capital strike groups nearby to engage the Fatalis now as it appears to have gone into complete anti-strikecraft mode and thus would be vulnerable to capital ships until it readjusts.
OOC note: Will be doing my own damage calculations (ie, me taking hits) starting next post as the strikecraft have now moved into the range of the Fatalis and the escorting Star Destroyers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Actions~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Strike Group 1
Onboard the HMS Valiant
Aculia flinched in fear for a moment as the Mawite superweapon began to adjust its firing angle, faring the worst-that the Mawites had gone full death cult and were preparing to fire it at the planet’s surface proper despite plenty of their forces still being there. She let out, contrary to what one might expect, a sigh of relief when it instead was instead angled towards one of the Tython Accord’s dreadnaughts instead. They were not going to target the planet anytime soon, it seemed. That bought her precious time-she could afford to be less aggressive now, and give the Mandalorians more time to disable it. If they had started to target the planet itself, desperate measures would have had to be taken.
“Sir! Reports from the SAWACS! Encrypted transmission beamed out of the system!”
Ah, that was likely the plan of the Mawites. Attempt to scare them into submission by firing the superlaser, then call in reserves to outflank them. Thankfully, her forces had been listening, and she was once again glad that the first project of her company had been a dedicated SAWACs craft.
“Comm officer! Warn the Tython fleet that reserves are likely coming into play soon! Captain, inform this strike group and the other ones to extend their gravity well generators more to increase standoff distance! Have the frigates and corvettes spread out a bit more to avoid concentrated fire from the superlaser! And start an orderly withdrawal pullback from our original positions before House Io continued their charge. I want our friendly fleets to have our backs-and our flanks-with their big guns!”
Piercing blue eyes stared at the tactical readouts before her. The Fatalis, upon detecting the launch of her bombers and fighters, had immediately gone into what she could only describe as cocoon-mode, rapidly transferring power to its shields, seemingly stopping all long-range turbolaser fire, and although she could not be quite sure, probably scrambling every single available person on board to begin damage control. Curiously, its escorts did not immediately close ranks with it to be as close as humanly possible and do the same to make an impenetrable, 360 degree little ball of point defense fire that would definitely hurt her forces terribly-they simply continued to rain fire down on the House Io forces instead. They and the Fatalis also did not even bother to deploy whatever strikecraft they might have had, unlike its sister battlegroup led by Sularen further away. Clearly, they thought she was one hundred percent dedicated to the attack on the Super Star Destroyer itself. After all, it was such a juicy target, and killing it would definitely have been something Rex Valhoun
would have done, with his machismo. His ego would soar through the roof if he took out a Mawite symbol like that.
Unfortunately for the enemy commander, whatever twisted homunculus of a person he or she was, she was not the gloryhound Rex.
“Attention all fighter and bomber groups-divert your attack waves toward the escorting Star Destroyers in instead. Angle as far away from the Fatalis as possible to make sure only their closest point defense cannons can open fire on us. They have been too focused on House Io and whatever the hell they are planning and have not set up proper defenses against us-they have not even sent out whatever strikecraft screens they do have nor have they been laying down turbolaser fire to deny us any longer-range flight adjustment vectors. Split up and unload on them with all you have-heavy ion torpedoes first, then proton torpedoes, then concussion missiles. This should cripple both their shields and their armor, easily. Strike Eagles, try to distract their point defense guns and prepare to engage any launched strikecraft -protect our bombers at all costs. They are the priority right now! Once you are done, return to the carrier group to rearm and repair.”
“SAWACS! They are using a missile deactivation transmitter-albeit just the Fatalis itself! Begin ECCM countermeasures against jamming and beam encrypted rapid-shifting disarm codes to our bombers-distinct for each bomber squadron. They may crack some of the codes in time before they are changed but this will make it a hell of a lot more difficult for them, especially since it’s only ship using it right now!”
“Comm Officer! Send an encrypted message to all of our nearby capital heavy fleets! The Fatalis has gone into turtle mode and abandoned its long-range guns! It is ripe for getting pounded to hell and back by any group which can unload turbolasers or long-range kinetic artillery on it! It will take time for them to readjust to rearming their batteries!”
Aculia gestured for her aide-de-camp to bring her some water, which she drank rapidly. Her throat hurt from barking out such rapid orders. She was beginning to get a migraine as well. This was truly insanely stressful and Loreena Arenais-Valhoun
and Rex Valhoun
had better be grateful as hell towards her for doing this.
The reasons for her diverting her craft were simple-her nimble strikecraft, attacking in waves in a longer chain, could adjust and change their plans much better than the Fatalis and the escorting SDs. Not all of them would be able to change in time, of course-some of the waves had already washed over the Fatalis by the time the order had been given out, and the casualty reports were still coming in. Still, thanks to the arrowhead formation they were using with a good distance between each fighter, different points of attack, and the relatively quality fighters and bombers that were pretty decent at maneuverability all things considered, they should be able to hurt the unprepared SDs quite a bit more relative to their total length compared to the amount of fighters and bombers used than what had hit the Fatalis. Hundreds of bombers and fighters of the next few waves began to descend on each of the escorting Star Destroyers instead having adjusted their attack trajectories away from the Fatalis-that was the benefit of strikecraft over lumbering capital ships They would still take casualties -no one was invulnerable-but far less than if they had all decided to attack the turtled Fatalis. And, the slow-moving giant of an SSD nor its escorts would have the time to adjust completely before they got slammed.
She wouldn't want to be the enemy commander right now.
What a massive waste of life-and for what? What the hell are those lunatics fighting for to make this in any way worth it?
Kai’s blade met Surea’s block, much to the boy’s dismay.
<Aw, you… you ho!> He lobbed the decidedly childish insult the Sith’s way with a venom borne of frustration.
To make matters worse, Amani pulled out a glock and proceeded to unload an entire round’s worth of lead in Surea’s direction. Kai, who was still standing behind the rotted Sith, hit the ground rather than risk getting caught in the crossfire—for even if Amani had Force-guided aim, Surea surely had Force-guided dodge.
But Kai wasn’t idle for long. Rolling over on his back, he pulled two (2) slugthrower pistols from his belt and fired both up at Surea.
"I'm going to go ahead of the main group...and I'm going to negotiate with the natives. They shouldn't side with The Maw, it makes no sense, and I don't want to continue to build a reputation as a non-negotiator. It's up to you if you wish to come with me...I don't know what to expect yet..." he motioned slightly at his new lightsaber, the typical type of The Order of The Lion; Silver-White blade, shiny hilt, and a common design. Not exactly a "kingly" weapon. There were no engravings, no precious metals or gems. Just a one of hundreds like it. A reminder that Rex was just another knight of the order, regardless of his authority over it.
Having explained his plan to Zet, he raised his commlink, speaking to all officers and captains in the ranks, "Hold here until further orders are given. I am going into the camp alone. Be ready for anything....keep your men ready too."
Then, taking a deep breath, he began to make his way toward the camp. As he walked he continued to ponder the cause of The Flesh Raiders' hostility. It was probably as simple as a lie. The Maw surely manipulated the creatures, using false promises and claims, and the savage creatures went along with it in yet another conflict for their land. It would surely be easy to convince them to see things differently.
But on the other hand, Rex was walking into a camp full of hostile natives, with nothing but a lightsaber and an extremely limited knowledge and talent in The Force. It was a suicide mission to say the least.
Which meant he needed an escape plan, and his current plan was as simple as "Run and pray". He could probably outrun the flesh raiders, especially with adrenaline.....but he dearly hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Message delivered, Asmus streaked off and away from the assembled fighter vessels. Instinct drove him as he prepared and left the Defenders to their task over the planet. His ship wasn't nearly as capable as they were in a dogfight. But he could move elsewhere with the assurance of his presence being recognized.
The saucer shaped hull left a wide contrail behind it as it descended, breaking through the atmosphere in a bright streak as it came to a regulated speed over what seemed to be a body of water between three structures and low grounds off to the right side. Not content to sit still, he kept his course, slowing enough to not dedicate to any task just yet as he had a glance at the scanners.
Forces all around on the ground. Larger elements storming strategic points. Armor moving to support the smaller elements while a dedicated force seemed to linger on what he guessed was the temple off to his left. A building further in the distance from his arial view was of little interest as he peered right to the low ground.
A raider group had setup camp in that area from what he recalled of the briefing, and it seemed a force was dispatched to handle that aspect of the battle.
Pulling hard on the yoke, the nose rose sharply as the tail swung into a wingover as he broke away from the far end of the water and cutting altitude before skimming above the tree line. The mountains stood as monoliths in his path, angling to keep the protection on his right and keeping an eye on the scanners for someone on his tail. Engaging the comm switch, the communication channel would buzz to those friendly channels he had access to, alerting them to his approach.
The hull shook and shuddered against the speed, his systems picking up the alerts from ground forces firing in his direction.
It brought a smile to his face.
On approach to Rex Valhoun
's position @open for other strafing/pickup callouts
Coren Starchaser
l
Thurion Heavenshield
l
Celeste Rigel
l
Darth Libertas
l Attackers, Destroyers of Tython l 
