Invasion STANDOFF | Bryn'adûl Invasion of SJC held Lexrul, Ruusan, Sev Tok & Shador

[Subject 73 Red]

Objective: Defend the city, secure the bomb
Allies: SJC and allies, Thirdas Heavenshield , Beltran Rarr , Mig Gred , Aien Mueller , Kadan Scipora , Kranak Vizsla , Laertia Io , Commander Kren , Jax Thio , Cyprian Ichar , Westenra Mina , Aurelian Sigismund
Enemies: Bryn'adul , Open

When the woman broke through the karking wall, Red knew that he was in for a wild time.

Up until that point, things had been going good. His team was still moving through the building, securing the upper and lower floors. The building seemed to be clear, definitely. The only problem was the dead Jedi forces littering the halls... Something else was with them...

Other than that, nothing else really came up. Red had managed to successfully deactivate the bomb. Now, only someone with Level 4 clearance and above reactivate the bomb. He doubted that any Bryn'adul would be able to rearm the bomb, since the only person in a 5 block radius with Level 4 clearance was Red, and no way was he rearming the bomb unless a Level 5 gave him the order to. He doubted that anyone with a Level 5 was even on the planet.

Then, his commlink pinged, getting a response from Heavenshield.

"Copy that; good job, soldier! Stay with the device, do not let it fall into enemy hands. That thing's only to be used as a last resort, repeat, last resort only. We have friendlies infiltrating the Bryn vessel as we speak. Guard the weapon with your life! Heavenshield, out!"

"Solid copy on all, Heavenshield. No one is getting their hands on this bomb. Don't worry, Heavenshield, I'm under strict orders from Ops Command to not use it unless it appears the bomb will fall into enemy hands. Good luck, out." He replied.

Then, suddenly after, a woman cut through the wall with a lightsaber, and Red knew he was in deep chit.

He quickly stood up, examining the woman. She had a lightsaber... but that sure as hell didn't mean that she was a Jedi. Hell, Red had a lightsaber, and he was no longer a Jedi.

"Soldier... I'm going to need you to back away from that...we cannot disarm it. We need to use it to drive the Bryn'adul from Sev Tok."

Red looked at her, watching her. Her blade was still active, definitely showing hostility. Red's right hand rested on the hilt of his own lightsaber, attached to his utility belt. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm under strict orders not to let this fall into anyone's hands. We cannot let the Bryn'adul learn of this. All records of this weapon have been purged, too. The only situation where I activate this bomb is if it appears like this bomb will fall into Bryn'adul hands." Red told her.

"That is what it was deployed here for, after all, was it not? Why get cold feet now?"

Red stared at her for a minute, before chuckling. "Ah, that explains it. What you just told me proves you aren't one of us. This bomb isn't supposed to be here. In fact, it was being evacuated from the city when the dome went up, leaving it trapped here. The mission has never been to use it, but to recover it." Red told her. "You know what this proves to me? It proves that you weren't sent by Ops Command, and that you have access to confidential information. You are clearly an information hazard, your actions have proved this much."

"Besides, it's too late to stop me from deactivating the device." Red told her. "It's already been done. The device has been deactivated, and I doubt you have the security clearance to reactivate it."

"If you truly want to help, i suggest either helping to take down the shield, or helping me to defend this area." Red said to the woman. "There's more than one way to defend Sev Tok, and making this entire city highly irradiated and uninhabitable is the last resort. If we do win and manage to push them back, then what then? Most of the city will be uninhabitable. And even worse, the Bryn will learn of these weapons, and learn and adapt."

"If the Bryn'adul are still advancing, and their shield is still up, then I'll consider arming the device, deal?" Red offered the deal to her, his hand still on his lightsaber, ready to activate it at the slightest movement. Red saw her examining the room. She was cold and calculating, and would most definitely be a potent fighter.

But luckily for the Jedi, so was Red.

 

[Gordrak]

Phase Three

Location: Somewhere not far from the Chieftain

Allies: Bryn'adul / Tathra Khaeus / Galak

Enemies: Everyone ( Open to interaction )

Equipment: Armor / Axe / Shielding / Ravager / Lancer / Mangler / Crippler / Shredder / Burner / Beam Rifle / Fort. Mutagen

BEFORE​

Gordraks hearts beat furiously as an ordered attack truly began its descent into violence. The battle had entered a state he could begin to appreciate. Having knocked aside a blast meant for his head with the compact shield, Gordrak retaliated by skewering a clone with the lancer bayonet. He then tore the weapon free as he turned in the hopes of catching a human trying to run behind him. Swinging the weapon with force, he managed to connect the side of the weapon to the back of the one who had tried to get behind him. The militia-woman gasped in shock as the impromptu strike broke her spine and snapped her head back. She hit the ground hard, a breathless curse escaping her mouth. Before she could process much more, Gordrak finished her by ramming the lancer bayonet first into her back. Skewered to the ground now, the woman died almost immediately. The newly promoted Ultra reached for his weapon now, his thoughts filled with a deep sense of loathing.


Gordrak was not a stranger to death. Death was an old friend at this point. He saw it everywhere his people went and he was dedicated to delivering it to humanity. All of that said, the seismic blast went off and Gordrak still felt compelled to stop and try to understand what just happened. He didn't see the blast start but he had seen it end. He had felt something else aside from the physical effects of the charge. He felt fear. It was not a fear of his opponents however. Gordrak had seen what kind of horror their enemy could command if they had wished to do so. No, he feared that the others back by the ship might prove themselves wanting. If they failed, it meant Gordrak could end up failing as well. He couldn't do that. No matter what happened or who died, he couldn't fail here. They needed to be excised like the cancers they were. Gordrak equipped his crippler quickly and set out to redouble his efforts.

AFTER​

Gordrak threw his head back and howled as he swung his axe. The Ultras and all Bryn'adul were fighting to survive now. Gordrak was no exception. Long since bereft of his weapons save the axe, Gordrak fought like an enraged animal. A volley of bio-blaster bolts finally destroyed Gordraks compact shield. Brandishing his axe, he took a large step forward and swung at the closest militia-man. The blow bisected the man neatly, the force of the blow carrying onward toward another. The second man managed to fall backward and avoid the strike though this proved costly as Gordrak followed up. Having used the weapons momentum to raise it up high, Gordrak brought the massive axe down upon the now prone man. Blood and gore erupted upward with much of it now coating a livid, almost feral Ultra.


Every kill was simply an introduction to the one that came after. The same scene played out across the battlefield. The Bryn slaughtered and were slaughtered in turn. Any sort of gain would be replaced with a loss in what was generally short order. He hurt now. He had taken some hits earlier and though he continued on, they proved annoying. They were not debilitating however. Not yet anyway. Hefting his mighty weapon once more, Gordrak began to run. Jumping onto a piece of debris, Gordrak leapt into a squad of clones. He howled madly as lashed outward with the axe and bisected a clone from shoulder to hip. Several retaliatory blasts slammed into his Quilxyn shielding, forcing Gordrak back a step. Snarling, Gordrak let go of his axe and lunged toward the closest clone. He grabbed his unfortunate target by the leg and swung the clone as hard as he could at the third clone nearby. The blow took the third clone off his feet and before he could rise, Gordrak was beside him. Lost in his hate now, Gordrak beat the clone to death with his own squad-mate. Even after his enemies died, he continued to slam the one into the other. Now wielding a thoroughly mangled corpse, he raised the body again as if to deliver an additional strike. As he did so, the clones body tore free from the leg, leaving Gordrak with only a leg held. He remained silent for a few moments save for a ragged series of breaths.


Earlier he had wondered if he might fail. He wondered if he had anything left. All of that was gone alongside restraint and control. Blood and the desire to shed it were all that remained now. Gordrak wordlessly made his way to his axe which he wrenched free from the earth. As this happened, he noticed something land not far from his location. Upon turning, Gordrak is met with the sight of quite a few Bryn bodies lashed together. As he tried to process this the grenades strapped to the bodies all went off. Gordrak held a hand in front of his face as the explosion washed over him. Though he was far enough to not suffer the brunt of it, shrapnel and bits of his fallen comrades still pelted him. As Gordrak reeled back from this, he found himself surrounded by more Militia and clones. The hate that fueled him erupted into an inferno as he processed what had happened fully. It was then that Gordrak spoke from the absolute bottom of his hearts and addressed those surrounding him in fluent basic.


" I will kill all of you. Every. Single. One. " and with that, Gordrak charged them.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

STANDOFF
​

PHASE THREE
Location: Frontline/centre of the Battlefield
Allies: Osam | Galak | Primarch Drek'ma | Quoron Ver'dum | Gordrak | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu | Hrajlmak'Natok | Sylok'Vanari | Kyrim Tenebris | Sethrak | Aryshda | Udomek Seker
Enemies: Beltran Rarr | Thirdas Heavenshield | Laertia Io | Varn Barakis | Chasianna | Rurik Fel | Zephyr Krayt | Liram Angellus | Aurelian Sigismund |
Axe | Gauntlet | Armour |
Forces: 1595 Juggernaut Ultras | 3 Reavers | 16 Ra'maks | The Dreddikkast | 20 Ravagers

Momentum was key, especially when fighting against multiple opponent, keeping his back turned to either of them would be foolish. Following through his own momentum, Tathra pushed himself off of the heel of his right foot - striding forward and putting himself out of the immediate reach of Laertia's spear as Beltran landed crouched right before his eyes - hand cannon raised as Tathra pushed the Axe out from under the length of his arm, in a concise motion swinging mid-turn in a reserved semi-circle aimed to remove the armoured Jedi's entire forearm holding the sidearm as it fired, watching with his own two eyes as the bullets curved between them and out of his periphery. His left foot rose as the right found footing, turning him around as both feet slid across the broken earth beneath them. It put Thirdas to his left, Beltran to his right and Laertia directly ahead. In that fraction of a second Tathra examined the battlefield a dozen times over.

Ra'maks continued to fire on enemy positions, shifting their focus from the barricaded forces and to the pushing forces of the Concord and its allies, specifically targeting the neutralisers and Rim-Guard war-droids with continuous ionic beams of energy. He saw the sheer adrenaline that still carried the Ultras forward as a hundred more of their number fell - taking thousands with them as each fell. Each laboured with ice in their lungs, fighting to keep themselves moving as even now with the rim-guard and paladins fighting in close quarters combat against Juggernauts and Ultras alike, some of the enemy lobbed cryoban at them. The Ultras personal shields provided projection against the immediate threats, but it was the slow freeze that was killing them. Falling to inferior foes from exhaustion, Galak's Juggernauts retreating slightly even as the Ultras held their ground - paying for it in black blood. The earth quaked violently as the Shamans servitors began to wreak havoc across the inner lines of the Concord, Mandalorians, Militia and Rangers.

But beyond all that, his eyes singled out Warlord Galak. Tathra felt fear in his veins as his kin was cut down by a myriad of attacks, ever still forcing himself to fight as a Paladin engaged him up close, a damaged neutraliser raising its rifle to his back. Tathra dropped to a knee as he slowed, baradium slugs whizzing past his head and striking the ground between them. Tathra's left arm rose and fell, slamming the Axe's head into the ground - power reverberating through the shattering duracrete as his closed gauntleted fist pressed against it, absorbing as much power from the blast as he could. It did not fall beyond his perceptions to take note of the massive chaingun being aimed his way as the man screamed for his companions to get out of the way. Though that didn't make much of a difference for the forces of the Concord now at his back. He knew in that split-second he had a decision to make, he could defence himself or help his friend. When Tathra had been mutinied against on Nar Kreeta, he had boldly claimed that he was the Draelvasier, that he was the Bryn'adûl - but now faced with the decision he knew he had been wrong.

It wasn't a choice. Without hesitation, Tathra rose releasing a red wave of energy toward Thirdas with a short and controlled swing of his Axe, with his right firing a concentrated beam of energy from his gauntlet directly at the crawling droid - obliterating it before it could so much as touch Galak. But that didn't stop the hail of fire as a blast from Laertia's spear struck his left hand, the freezing cold pain numbed his fingers as he tried to grip at his Axe as the fail of machine gun fire tore into him. Tathra raised both arms, defensively covering his face as the hail of fire from the chaingun cut through him - dozens of bullet holes through his upper arms, legs and waist as hundreds rattled against his armour. The kinetic force of each bullet pushed him back two steps, black oozing from the side of his mouth. The pain came in waves as the hail of stopped, the wave of kinetic energy thrown from his Axe finally reaching Thirdas' position.

The Axe nearly slipping from his grip as his own blood ran down the length of his arm, under the silver vambrace and between his strained, cold fingers. Galak was alive, and that made any pain worth it. Tathra raised his right, wiping the blood from his mouth as Thirdas called for the push of his own warriors in on the front lines of the Bryn'adûl. The sun rose over the edge of the mountains, its light split by the Epitaph as rays of sunshine poured across the battlefield, but it wasn't just the sun that was rising - even at this distance everyone on the battlefield would be able to see it. The earth rumbled violently as the cold softened into warmth, a gigantic barricas terraformer exploding out from the earth. A resounding cry radiating across the battlefield as that cold further softened into warmth and then heat as every fibre of the Terraformer exuded the air of Draemidus. A welcome breath entered his lungs as feeling returned, and the cold and the nanophage were banished from the battlefield. A terraformer was supposed to change an entire planet, its abilities enhanced twice over by the magicks of the Seer and its focus concentrated in the Dome. The Dreddikkast raised its wings, screaming a wave of force fear across the enemy as its own battle meditation added to that of the Seers mastery. The Juggernauts did not retreat, the cold no longer holding them back nor the nanophage as their strength was renewed by the energies of the Seer and the sight of the Terraformer. A reminder of home.

Across the mind stones, their linked consciousness's felt the collective rise as with the coming of dawn they knew their mission had been a success. They had drawn the Concord and its allies to Sev Tok, their sights and their warriors diverted from dozens of systems. And now, the true force of the Bryn'adûl would rain down upon Lexrul, Ruusan and Shador and so many other systems. With the arrival of marines, Imperial forces, clones, mandalorians and galactic alliance jedi - it only proved their point, proved their strength as they held against all odds. Every step forward made didn't matter, the only thing that mattered was that the Galaxies defenders were here instead of somewhere else. All that was needed now, was to survive until their brethren came. Tathra's grasp of the Axe strengthened as he rose, a symbol for his children as he sent a message out across the entire army.

The dawn has come. Now we must stand, stronger than before or none of us will survive. Some of us will die, but this is as good as place as any. Only question is how, do you want it on your feet, or on your damn knees? Cowering?! I know which I choose! I choose on my feet! Damn them! Let's fight!

The united front of the Bryn'adûl rushing in against the enemy, the Baedurin charged again, now with nothing holding them back. The Ultras, three times stronger than their brethren charged the barricades, trampling the militia and neutralisers as they did - trying to push the Concord and their allies back as the ground behind them grew more unstable as Ostak and Drek'ma's Servitors continued to hollow out the ground. No words were uttered by the Bryn'adûl, a silent focus and cohesion followed. The Reavers continued to use their magnetic blasts to try and halt the attacks of the enemy bombers newly arrived, as the Dreddikkast dove into the charge of enemies, using its entire body as a battering ram. The Titan, turning on his heel as he used all of his strength in a two handed swing towards the push of the enemy, releasing a powerful shockwave sending dozens back, crushing one and other. His breathes came easy, aches fading from his body bar the wounds sustained - but the Titan had suffered far worse.

From the Siege Towers controlled by the Primarch, with the rise of dawn a new order was given and containment cages were opened within otherwise empty deployment bays as a total of twenty Ravager Brutes were unleashed, ten released from either tower leaping directly onto the battlefield. six ton massive beasts towering at sixteen feet in height - bulldozing into the thick of the enemy limbs and decimating everything in their path. Tathra reached out to the leaders of their army, a thought whizzed across the battlefield to each.

Primarch, take the ground out from under them. Warlords, Warlocks, Shamans; push them back. Hold them back. We will survive.

Tathra readied his Axe, his right hand raised defensively. He was ready to fight the Concordian Jedi and their allies. Soon enough the Concord would realise every step they'd made, was only further and further into their trap. But by then it'd be too late. In the meantime, it was time to kill as many as they could, for as long as they could.

 

[Cadere]

Location: Anvil
Equipment: Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | Mantellian Vambraces | FF-CAR1
Allies: Zephyr Krayt Kranak Vizsla
Engaging: Osam Sylok'Vanari

Zephyr's voice reached Cas' ears, he was mere seconds from engaging with the Force-sensitive Bryn Sylok'Vanari . Of all the times, Zephyr needed to borrow his lightsaber. The Jedi Knight deliberated for what felt like minutes while only a few seconds in actuality, parting from his lightsaber was something that didn't sit well with him, especially in the middle of a warzone. Then Zephyr called out to him again, this time more urgent, the desparation in his voice was more than enough to convince Cas to give up his blade for the time being.

Through guess work, Cas hurled his lightsaber behind him in an under arm throw behind, directing it to where he believed Zephyr's voice originated from. He only hoped he was right. Throwing his lightsaber away as he was moments away from engaging a Bryn was risky, suicidal even, but Cas never let common sense deter him from doing what he needed to do. His fists curled instinctively before ultimately realising attempting to fight a Bryn hand-to-hand was futile. Instead, Cas knew to use his size, speed and reflexes to his advantage. For now, the Jedi Knight would use his natural grace and hyper instincts granted to him by the Force to tactfully evade any attacks until he could retrieve his lightsaber. That way he'd keep, who he believed to be the most dangerous opponent, distracted while Zephyr dealt with the other Osam .

The Kiffar Knight was in such a state of hyper focus, he closed his eyes and unwittingly fell into a state of what felt like complete oneness with the Force. Becoming an extension of its will, he no longer thought nor worried, he just was, Cas needn't plan out his movements to evade the larger Bryn and simply moved with the currents. Like, letting a river guide one down its stream. Cas was unaware of how long he'd been doing this for, but his concentration was immediately snapped out of it when he heard the agonising scream of Zephyr.

Eyes shooting open, Cas found himself in a crouched position before he spun around to the sound of Zephyr's haunting cries. The sight at which he saw would go on to haunt Cas for the rest of his life. Letting out a bloodcurdling yell "ZEPHYR!!!" everything that took place now meant nothing, his fight with the Force-sensitive Bryn was meaningless, without an inkling of hesitation the Kiffar darted toward his lightsaber which lie in between him and the Bryn'adul warrior that held Zephyr in its clutches. Without losing momentum, Cas reached down and grabbed his weapon and continued his charge.

He lunged in the air and led with his left foot, aiming it directly at the Bryn. His lightsaber made a prolongued hum as he sailed through the air "GET AWAY FROM HIM!" he yelled just before the sole of his boot connected with the Bryn's cheek, the speed and distance at which Cas travelled was sure enough to inflict enough of an impact where he would really feel it. Planting his other boot on the Bryn's face, Cas catapulted himself backward and adjusted himself into a backflip before landing.

The result of his actions would ensure Zephyr would be released, but he didn't have time to think of what would happen next. Right now, the only thing concerning him was the wellbeing of his friend. Rushing over to the Mandalorian, still on fire, he kneeled down next to him. At this moment, the horrors of war, the concern of being vulnerable to the two Bryn, the deafening sounds of weaponry and the tormentful screams of those losing their lives were drowned out by Zephyr's pained cries "Zephyr, hold on! I'm gonns fix this-- just--" Cas absentmindedly reached over to touch the Mandalorian only to immediately pull back as his hand was singed from the intense flames emanating from his skin and armor.

THEME​

"What do I do?! What can I do?! Tell me how to help you! Tell me how to save you, PLEASE!" he pleaded with the Mandalorian, voice breaking as his own words were drowned out by Zephyr's cries. His hands violently tremored and his eyesight began to blur from the desparation to save Zephyr, tears welled as he stared at his hands which still tremored. He had all this power, he could do so many things, all granted to him by the Force, and yet he couldn't save his friend... he couldn't save anyone. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he just save him?!

Zephyr's agony reverberated through the Force, and it felt as if Cas too was being burned alive, inside the core of a sun. Finally, the tears began to fall, streaming down his bronze skin and dripping onto the rubbled floor beneath him. The screaming came to a stop and nothing remained but the crackling of the flames which were still very much alive. He thought that, for a second, Zephyr was gone... but the Force reminded him that wasn't the case. The Mandalorian's mark on the Force was fading, like that of a dimming light. Cas' eyes narrowed on the ocean that was Zephyr's eyes, staring back at him. He was quiet now... but still very much in pain, his eyes spoke a thousand words and Cas knew what the Mandalorian wanted.

Weakly, Zephyr raised his hand which caught the Jedi's gaze, following the direction of where his finger pointed Cas saw Zephyr's deserted blaster. As his friend as well as it being the humane thing to do, Cas wanted to grant Zephyr release. The act of killing his friend though, the guilt, it fought against his better judgement. Fighting past his guilt, Cas extended his arm and summoned the blaster into his hand, releasing a deep breath his hand continued to shake. Biting his lip, he tried to fight back the tears that trailed down his cheeks like a waterfall but to no avail, Cas raised the blaster's barrel directly at Zephyr's forehead.

Hand still shaking, Cas' eyes lingered on Zephyr as he tried to take in the scarred features of what was once his friend's face. Attempting to remember him as he once was, the Knight struggled to look past the deep burns etched across the Mandalorian's face and the smell of charred flesh that attacked his nostrils. Gently, his finger began to pull back on the trigger and the Jedi closed his eyes, hoping that Zephyr's life was a fulfilling one and that... by some Mandalorian standard, he was happy or proud with the way he went out.

Zephyr Krayt was one with the Force now.

Spoiler: OOC

Was given permission by Zephyr's writer to partially NPC him. We totes collab'd bro.

 

[Sethrak]

Phase Three


Post: 6
The Frontlines
​

Sethrak had fought for hours, his energy finally started growing thin. He fought more conservatively now...moving less, hitting softer, and staying near his troops. He had been oblivious to much of the battle, but when Tathra Khaeus spoke to the entire army of Drael, once 50,000 strong but now perhaps half that size, The Warlock heard him. Only after hearing the Titan speak did Sethrak realize that the sun was rising, the dawn was here.

The chieftain's words lit a fire inside Sethrak brighter than the sun that was now rising. He fought harder, his energy returning once more. Meanwhile the Baedurin around him were slowly getting stronger as the planet warmed up more. After the long, hard fight, things were starting to look up.

They had suffered majorly however...the enemies' superior numbers, the bomb, this battle would a Pyrrhic victory or a valiant defeat. Yet again the Warlord found himself wondering where the others were. Tathra was clearly alive, but what of Galak, Osam, Ostak, The Primarch, and the others? He hadn't seen them since they were first swallowed by the massive foe meeting their charge. Some he hadn't seen since before then. Since he entered the elevator to prepare the troops.

He hoped they were alive, the loss of Keldotherra was still fresh on his mind. It hadn't hit him as hard as it had hit others, but the loss of a warrior of her prestige always hurt. If they had victory today, he would drink to her in the celebrations.

Until then he had a fight to finish...standing.

He sliced through a female as she tripped in her attempt to escape. He pulled his spear out, spinning it like a propeller again in order to deflect as many shots as he could.

Meanwhile the gunships continued their job, frying the enemy from above. They were fewer in number now but it was still effective.

Elsewhere The Lothal Guard was still alive, though battered and beaten. They sliced through opponents twice as efficient as the Drael around them...their superior training clearly making a difference.

Unknown to Sethrak, each Drael that had been on the bridge of The Epitaph was still alive, each fighting their own battles.

There was chaos, the Bryn were still outnumbered, but as Sethrak had expected, The Bryn'adul would overtake the Jedi just like their shield had overpowered the Jedi shield. He could feel it in the now warming air. He learnt that a lost battle felt different from one that was won. It was almost too close and too soon to call, but this fight had the feel of victory. He hoped his senses didn't betray him as he cut down yet another foe. If they were to lose this fight, things would turn bad for The Bryn'adul as a whole. That was something that he couldn't let happen.

So as he fought he remembered the stakes. He remembered the Bryn'adul cause, and the tenants he had yelled out alongside his forces before the fight. Finally, he remembered Tathra's words every time he grew tired, and in them he found energy to strike just one more foe, to take one more step, to deflect one last blaster shot.

For The Bryn'adul. ​

 

[Zephyr Krayt]

Location: Anvil - Inside the dome
Equipment: Linked in biography
Tags: Osam Cadere Kranak Vizsla Krarolk T'manu​

The agonised screams subsided, his body no longer capable of producing such a noise as it began to crumble from within. Burning embers tainted blood that leaked out of his broken skin and adhered his armour to his body and melted his clothes onto his skin. Upon finally hearing the voice of his ally through the crackle of the fire, Zephyr's head rolled to the side he heard Cas' voice emanate from, the taut skin on his neck peeling away with the movement.

The Jedi's presence brought peace, for he knew he would not die alone, and hope that he could be released from his suffering. The Jedi were not killers by nature but bringers of peace. That was all the Mandalorian was asking for.

Their gazes met through the licking of the flames but no words were exchanged. His charred, blood-pooled lungs were losing the fight to sustain themselves as his breaths became barely a whisper while he simultaneously drowned and burned from within. In one final moment of strength, his hand moved feebly to indicate towards the direction of where he knew his fallen blaster was - asking for his life to be ended quickly rather than face the suffocation which had begun to set in.

His chest rose shakily with a breath but never again.

 

[Starlin Rand]

Location: Escorting civilians through the tunnels
Gear: Armor | Shoto | Lightsaber
Accompanied by: Jaina Grayson (Combat Form)
Jaina’s Gear: Vibrocutlass | Disruptor Rifle | Disruptor Pistol | Cryo Grenades (6)
Tags: Maple Harte | Open

Perhaps Starlin’s blood would have boiled upon witnessing the exchange between Gerard, the militia, and the Jedi over where the refugees would be taken. Maybe he would have even butted in, trying to take back the lightsabers they confiscated, something.

But Starlin was hardly even aware of what was happening around him. He was so focused on keeping the portal open for as long as possible, saving as many people as he could from the carnage inside the dome, he couldn’t think of anything else.

Exhaustion set in. His body ached with the strain of channeling the Force at such magnitudes, burning through the infinite. The energy scorched his muscles, burned his bones, set fire to his brain.

It became too much. His body simply shut down, unable to stand it anymore. He collapsed to the ground, eyes open, still grasping at the edges of the portal, but it was no use. His eyes closed as he fell into unconsciousness within the ritual circle, the rift winking shut.

Jaina, who had joined in the defense around him, ran over. She crouched down to check his vitals. He was alive, but very weak. “No more fighting for you today, kid,” she muttered, picking him up and heading for the evac ship.

//exit thread for Starlin, will keep RPing as Jaina if necessary

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

​

STANDOFF

​

​

OBJECTIVE: Phase 3
POST: 7
LOCATION: Edge of the Crater
EQUIPMENT: Warlock's Armour | Battlestaff [Sig]
ALLIES: The Bryn'adul
ENEMIES: Everything Else
Forces:

Spoiler

• Drones [4,000]
• Rhivaks [200]
• Brumaks [250]
• Vaydralen [1,500]
• Warlocks [6]
• Warlock Field-Masters [2]
• Servitor [3]

______________________________________________________________

The intelligence of no species will ever create something so beautiful and complex as life itself. We will continue to stride ever-forward into the darkness of the unknown, all the while building answers to the questions that keep us up at night. And yet nature, and the life it creates, is a system beyond any answer. We will know, but never will we truly capture with words the sheer magnificence of conscious existence. But beauty is not a bright and warming thing. The beauty of nature lies in its spectrum, and that spectrum spans from the wonderful to the abhorrent. And never was such an idea more present than on this world.

Beneath uncaring stars, atop unfeeling dirt, a pile of flesh and bone stirred in the silence. The battle had long since moved on, leaving the carrion of mortal folly to rot and be swept away by the infinite river of time. Buried under hundreds of the dead, a lone mind, shattered and struggling, held onto the ropes of existence with meek and failing hands. A mind considered alien to many, but in reality was a brother to all. Where once it churned with energy and vigor, now it flickered like a candle in the rain. But this timid flame would not be snuffed just yet. Hrajlmak'Natok, the warrior-shaman, the violent, the Draelvasier, pushed with what energy he had left. Pushed not to end a life. Only to see the sky.

He planted his hands against the mud, and forced himself upwards. The effort was monumental, for a tiny gain. Hrajlmak's muscles quivered, his entire body shook. He groaned, and fell again to the floor. A second time, he pushed up, trying with all his might to shift the bodies on top of him. His groans became a sustained shout of pain and frustration. His body slumped back to the ground. For a moment he lay there, reflecting. All things seek knowledge, but it was he who held the coveted. For he knew his fate. All he could do now was present himself to fate on his own terms. And the corpses of Sraelvun fodder would not stop him from this.

Splayed fingers dug into the dirt. Hrajlmak inched upwards. His lungs emptied a scream into the black mud as the pile shifted and moved. His body burned with the effort. Pain racked his entire frame, goading him with the idea of giving up. It was nigh unbearable. Mere moments from conceding to the suffering and breathing his last breath under the flesh pile, the topmost corpse rolled from the heap, dragging several others with it. Cold air rushed into the gaps and Hrajlmak rolled over onto his back. He could barely see anymore, but he knew what eyes he had left now rested on the early morning sky of Sev Tok. A coughing fit seized him, and he spluttered black blood from within. It matted his face, but he paid it no mind. He could feel his diaphragm being punctured by his ribs and knew his time drew near.

He rolled again onto his belly, and struggled into a kneeling position. His head bowed under the weight of gravity, his arms limp at his sides. He inhaled a rickety breath and gathered his feeble thoughts. He was deaf, and as good as blind. The sun broke over the mountains, its rays caressed his bare and bleeding chest. Half his body bathed in cold light. Behind him, the great Barricass grew, shrouding his back in shadow. He needed no hearing nor sight to feel its incredible energy in his mind. Slowly, the ash-soaked snow that fell upon his shoulders was swept away by growing heat. The climate changed inside the dome, and for a moment, locked within a chamber of no sight or sound, Hrajlmak felt he was at home.

In the belly of the Epitaph, three servitors who had remained untouched, unraveled from their coils. Duty relents not even for death, and in the throws of dissolution, Hrajlmak had but one service left. A single imprint to be left on the Universe's histories. It was a familiar one. And it was a simple one. Hrajlmak's head rolled back, coming to rest again between his shoulders. A slight breath escaped his lips. One that was a result of a mental push. As the vapor of his lungs trickled into the air, three servitors burst from the skyward mouth of the Epitaph. Hrajlmak poured his soul into theirs. They moved with impossible fervor. The blinding anger and violence he had wallowed in for years now divested itself from his body, seeping into the fibers of these three servitors. They dove into the ground, their massive, churning teeth carving huge tunnels in the subterranean geography. They would do only one thing, but they would achieve it with intelligence and focus. They would deliver Hrajlmak's vengeance.

The three nameless worms tore through the ground, making aggressive haste towards the front line. When they neared, they split up and spread across the length of the battle. The moment they were beyond the Bryn'adul's line of assault, their massive bodies twisted upwards. The earthquake from the Primarch and Ostak Cl'mana's worms would only get worse as the three lurched skyward. They broke ground, and their tremendous forms rose in unison into the sky. Where they had surfaced, they took hundreds with them. Soon, their heads began to return to the ground that birthed them. And when they did, they would bring hundreds more with them into the darkness.

Hrajlmak felt their work as if he had carried it out with his own hand. A feeble smile broke across his lips. The Chieftain's words shimmered across his mind, and in his final moments he found a strength reminiscent of his earlier youth. He hunched forwards and planted his hands on the ground. In silence, he struggled to his feet. His body bent, and bones cracked and broke. But he straightened, forcing himself against insurmountable suffering. As he did, he took his staff from the ground in a weak grip, the head exploding into a curved red blade. He rammed the pommel into the mud, leaving it standing. His breath was laboured and failing. But he brought his fist to his chest in a salute to nothing and everything. He drew a deep breath, opened blind eyes wide, and screamed into the face of death itself.

"THIS MOUTH LAMENTS NOTHING, AND BITES WITH VENGEANCE!"
​

His words carried across the battlefield. He exhaled, fell to his knees. And drew no breath

 

[Ostak Cl'mana]

PHASE III​

POST: V
LOCATION: Sev Tok surface, Drael staging grounds (Ostak)
EQUIPMENT: Fireproof ceremonial Shaman robes
BEASTS UNDER PERSONAL CONTROL: TBD
ALLIES: THE BYRN | In vicinity of Primarch Drek'ma | In less-close vicinity of Galak / Osam / Sethrak / Tathra Khaeus
ENEMIES: SJC & ALLIES | NPC Drones engaging Chasianna | Open to engagement

Ostak! Use the Servitors to hollow grids beneath the bulk of the enemies force supporting their front lines. It will take time, we will sink them all.

[Yes, my Primarch.] replied Ostak through telepathy. [We shall make the mongrels feel the same misfortune we faced on Sarka.]
​

The Shaman-Overseer eagerly exploited the foundational cracks created by the Primarch's Guardians deep underground, his Servitors branching off in seven different arcs. If the Guardian was the great brute who had decimated the form of the foe that was the ground underneath the enemy, then the Servitors would be its executioners. Large cracks in the ground gave way completely as Servitors smashed through them, entire blocks and small districts falling down dozens of meters along with their inhabitants. The sewage system only accelerated the pace of the Servitors as great avalanches of dirt and stone fell in their wake, inevitably dooming the hostile front line.

Ostak himself relished in the pride of his accomplishment, momentarily abandoning the mental burden of responsibility and basking in the glow of success.

The Shaman-Overseer's joy lasted all of ten seconds before an artillery shell appeared directly in the center of his vision.

He erected a purple bubble barrier barely a thousandth of a second before the shell struck in a brilliant explosion. Ostak's barrier held due to sheer willpower, but he was slammed back-first into the ground by the shockwave, large rocks digging into his sides. Once the blast finally ceased, Ostak opened his eyes to find two newly created boulders covering the lower half of his body. He cried out in pain as his skin, unprotected by armor, began to bend inwards. It reminded him of the instance in Draemdius Prime when a clever Jedi pair had trapped him under a great pile of boulders, nearly causing his death. Pure rage and a full container of power had freed him from the rocks last time, but he neither currently.

Swallowing his pride, Ostak yelled out a pained "HELP!"

His first five calls got no response. Battlefields such as this one had good acoustics, allowing the noises of artillery and infantry charges to travel even further than his cries. The other Shamen had spaced out dozens of meters away from each other on Ostak's orders, and most allied units were physically ahead of him instead of behind. Just as he was about to prepare for an unpleasant amputation, help came in a surprising form.

The lower bodies of three small, ugly armored creatures became visible as he peered his face around the boulders covering his lower half. Two of them had powered drills in their hand, and they began to smash away at the boulders. The two rocks, already shaken by the artillery strike, easily cracked, the painful weight on Ostak lessening with each new crack. A minute after the trio had gone to work, both boulders had been shattered into dozens of different rocks, sparing Ostak from any injuries beyond large bruises on his legs, and allowing him to swiftly reapply the mental reins on his Servitors. He rose to approach and thank the odd figures when he came to a realization of what they were.

The diminutive Artificiers looked on curiously as the Aeravalin Shaman-Overseer stared down at them in silence. Part of him felt embarrassed to be saved by such creatures, still new in the Byrn'adul "covenant". Had his power really descended so low that they would come to his rescue?

Yet an older, wiser part of him stated otherwise. It would be of no use to antagonize allies, especially in the middle of a battle. Furthermore, the runts were far from incompetent, and their strength had shone in Ostak's own weakness. If anything, he was at fault for letting his pride and arrogance temporarily blind him to the reality of a changing battlefront and a changing society.

Newly humbled, Ostak cleared his throat and addressed the Artificers.

"Thank you for saving my life, comrades."

​

 

[Yula Perl]

BREAK THE SKIN

Aboard the Epitaph

​

Ally | Dagon Kaze
The Baddies | Sylok'Vanari | Quoron Ver'dum | Seer Kalanthir | Krarolk T'manu
Oh goD HELP US | Michael Sardun | Ishida Ashina | Inosuke Ashina

Cornered.

With each step, the ship seemed to force them down another path that would cut them off, another path rife with grotesque enemies and blaster fire. Like a sentient being, the Epitaph was attempting to fight off a foreign infection. The Draelvasier were the antibodies.

Dagon grabbed her.

"Hold them off until the Jedi arrive."
"Don't waver, don't yield and trust in yourself, alright? Trust in the Force, Yula--"

“I’m sorry, wh-“ Yula stared dumbly as Dagon handed her the hilt of his saber. Then, he passed out.

Kind of. Yula jumped to grab him, but Dagon’s body folded neatly into a meditation stance on the ground, rather than collapse into an ungraceful heap.

“…”

The dim lights of the corridor cast heavy shadows on her already tense features, making each curve of her face appear deeper than it really was. Part of her wanted to yell, to shake Dagon by the shoulders and yank him from his meditation and back into the fight because how the hell was she supposed to do this alone??

The Drael converging on them from both sides caused her to whip around, activating Dagon’s saber out of instinct. The blue blade snapped to life with a crisp snap-hiss, and Yula moved the way she’d been taught to. The way she remembered her mother moving, the wide stance of Soresu, the flow of a Jedi Master’s saber as she deflected each and every stun bolt from the training droid.

“Anticipate,” She murmured, broadening her stance and lending herself to the web of energy that was the Force. A dancer’s grace moved her form as the lightning blue blade waved in and out, up and down, in crescents and circles, deflecting bolts back at their assailants and dodging what she could.

“This is about reflexes, and conserving your energy. If you’re too superfluous or showy, you’re more liable to make a mistake.”

Joza allowed the saber in her hand to drift from one pole to another, a low hum accompanying its pass. The draining droid chirped and sent a rapid-fire of stun bolts towards her. A series of quick, tight movements were all it took for the blade, as green as her mother’s eyes, to direct the shots back at the droid, which was now on the ground.

“The Force works in mysterious ways, but it can only take you so far. Don’t waste your energy.”

It had been the only time she’d seen her mother’s expertly defensive bladework. It was necessary for Joza to instruct her Force-wielding children early on to avoid the house collapsing, but only in the basics of control and defense.

So while Dagon was doing whatever the hell he was doing, Yula was exceeding at not being hit. But it was difficult work—it was one thing to duck and dodge and weave and deflect, but protecting an immobile person made it harder. Molten bullets also made it harder. Case and point: blocking one such bullet with her saber not only pushed her back to the point where she was nearly falling over Dagon, but exploded upon impact. The molten core, now free of its confines, splashed onto her hand.

The sensation caused an unexpected scream to rip from her lungs, dropping the saber instantly. Tears of pain instantaneously welled along her lower lash line and streamed down her face, because molten metal was very very hot, and very very much still on her hand. It hung limp at her side, and Yula felt as if she had failed.

There wasn’t time for her rational mind to make a decision, so her lizard brain stepped in. Heavy, ragged breaths of anger seized her body, and she drew upon the Force again, with greater depth. Dagon had trusted her, believed in her. Enough to make himself vulnerable when they were surrounded by the enemy. Very few people had that strength of trust in Yula, even when it was necessary, and that incensed her to continue standing, to continue fighting, to continue protecting until she dropped.

With another yell, this one more controlled and due to exertion, she pushed a tremendous shockwave of Force out in all directions from her and Dagon. The explosive wave would ripple across her hair from the backdraft, but she was determined to push back the assailants as far as she could.

 

[Osam]

Spoiler: Personal Equipment

Barad Assault Carbine
Pulverizer
Zealot's Barad Kukri
Verikast Model A Drone Armor
T120 Burner Missile Launcher - Carried by Squadmate
Sun Quaker Toxin Grenade x2

Spoiler: Combat Forces

Squad A (8) - Osam's Personal Squad

• 5 Risen Sraelvun Veterans
• 1 Risen Sraelvun Veteran Grenadier
• 1 Risen Sraelvun Marksman
• 1 Quilxyn Protector

Squad B (10) Juggernaut Support

• 6 Juggernaut Minors
• 1 Juggernaut Grenadier
• 1 Juggernaut Heavy
• 1 Juggernaut Major
• 1 Quilxyn Protector

Squad C (6) Beast Support

• 1 Shamans
• 1 Arevallicar Syphons
• 1 Quilxyn Protector
• 0 Brumaks
• 3 Rhivaks

Squad D (0) Logistics and Reserves
-0 Akhenaton Combat Engineers
-0 Vaydralen Centurion Vandal Reservists

Enemies: Cadere | Zephyr Krayt's melted corpse | Kranak Vizsla
Ally: Sylok'Vanari

---

There was a comfort to be found in the lapping of the flames at his palms, even as they held tightly to the throat of his opponent. He didn't bother to apply pressure as his prey began to cook in his grip, the aroma of scorched organ meat exciting his taste buds, and causing him to begin to salivate ever so slightly. The fire did nothing to burn Osam, instead doing little to his form on account of his half-Baedurin ancestry and the innate strengths - and weaknesses - which came from such a lineage. The same could not be said for the Mandalorian who roasted and smoked in the confines of his fleshy prison, a nest of nerves trapped in a tormentous moment from whence there could only be one escape.

It was less a pleasure that filled his heart so much as a relief at his simple defeat of his armored opponent. In his mind he thought back to the loss of his limb, to the piercing touch of a venomous dart. A quick glance at the arms of his enemy revealed that such tools were present upon him as well, along with a number of utility tools and gadgets that might've given him an edge. It was difficult not to feel as if though he had triumphed over something that had once beaten him, to hold this dying man in his arms and proclaim to the universe that he was superior to him, even if he had stumbled once in the past.

To prove himself befitting of his new title, and of the work he had done even before it. To prove that he was ready again to take up the mantle of leader, that he was capable of overcoming this threat, and rescuing his kindred, of keeping them safe from the harm of Mandalore's children. Even as the dissident's saliva dribbled off of his chin he couldn't imagine a more utterly pedestrian defiance. Did this great warrior think he had dishonored the Warlord by his final act? Did he think he'd absolved himself somehow of his defeat at the moment of death?

He was so small now in the hands of the giant Risen-Sraelvun, so minuscule, both physically and in presence. Though he scorched like a beacon in the darkness, his was no more than the insignificant bio-luminescence of a lightning bug, or, perhaps more accurately, the waxy burning of an animal fat candle.

Of course, it was not enough to simply feel superior. He needed to demonstrate it to the world at hand, to the universe, and to any of his peers who might see his memories inscribed upon an artifact in the near future. He could not simply leave the corpse here and allow the Jedi and his friends to take it away, to cast vigil over it, and mourn his loss as if though he were a martyr. No... Osam would steal flesh from his trophy until his lips were tainted with charred skin and the body was nothing more than a pile of feces on the floor.

His cannibalistic grandeur was interrupted when a moment later the shriek of the Jedi pierced the air as the lonesome Knight bolted toward him in an attempt at saving his doomed comrade. His eyes lanced toward the lightsaber, and immediately the hybrid sought for the kukri at his side, barely withdrawing it from its sheath before - in a twist of expectation - he was stricken directly upon the cheek by the flailing boot of his adversary and sent reeling backward in a heap of limbs, dropping his meal in the process.

Osam observed the dramatic spectacle for a few moments as the moronic Jedi sought to save the dying animal in front of him, his kukri returning to its sheath when it became evident that he was too distracted by the pain of his ally to launch any kind of follow-up offensive. Though he possessed no sensitivity to the binding Force, he could almost feel the anguish leaking off of the Knight as he tried and failed to come up with a solution to his friend's imminent demise.

He might've felt a twinge of compassion if it hadn't been stamped out of him by fealty scanners and a lifetime of conflict, loss, and slaughter. Nevertheless, with the Jedi's back now to him, and a perfect opportunity to strike at hand, the Risen-Sraelvun lifted himself to his feet, and gingerly drew his Pulveriser sidearm from its holster. The weapon held tremendous firepower within its small form, and so he gripped it with both hands, wary of breaking the bones in one of his hands if he did not account for its terrible recoil.

Nodding to the Ashaka, and directing his sight toward the mournful Jedi a mere second after the blaster bolt penetrated his Mandalorian ally's skull, Osam prepared to save the valiant defender from the pain of existence.

 

[Gir Quee]

Location: The Lucky Seven Motel, the city of Anvil
Allies: Liram Angellus } Mig Gred | Liedran Kathause | Silver Jedi Concord & Allies
Enemies: Krarolk T'manu
Equipment: Carabello-series Armored Uniform, Ferrazid Distortion Shield, Furor Sonic Pistol, Silverthorn Stiletto, FastMed MedPac, SC-1 comlink
Forces: Elements of the 56th Hellfighters Regiment, Elements of the 98th Mechanized (handful of Katarn-class Main Battle Tanks and Varactyl-class Light Walkers)

Why the frak isn't he answering? His sapphire eyes darted around the room. He couldn't see into most of the Hellfighter's visaged helms - yet their bodies seemed tense as more of them gradually trained their weapons on the entryways into the seedy motel's lobby. His eyes caught a brief flash of light appear around the hinges of the motel's entryway. His eyes widened as he instinctively dove to the floor. That's not good...A brief thud reverberated throughout his body as he landed on the dirty brown ceramic. His nostrils fought off the stench of low-grade industrial sealant even as he turned his eyes upwards towards the now sundered doors.

A trio of hulking shadowy forms entered, wielding impressive bladed polearms and apparently protected by some sort of force field. While their silhouettes weren't readily identifiable against the pitch blackness of night behind them, faint light from the room's holo-projectors cast stray rays of light that glinted on their spiked armor with its unusual glowing panels. These aren't our people...He apparently wasn't alone in the thought. The Hellfighters present wasted little time on immediately firing onto the intruders with their battle rifles and shotguns, indiscriminately spraying slugs at the shadowy outlines. The man briefly hesitated before fumbling with his sonic pistol's safety before lining up a shot at the lead Brute. His sights wavered even as he yanked the trigger. A light blue bolt soared through the air before striking the top of the door frame. I'm such an idiot. He attempted to slow down his breathing and concentrate on lining up another shot before gently squeezing the trigger, sending another bolt that almost grazed one of the Zealot Elite's shoulders. I really need to hit the firing range more often...I better let the professionals handle this...He toggled his comlink to the general frequency shared by the 56th and 98th Regiments.

"This is Admiral Quee, we are under attack by three Bryn'adul commandoes at the command post. Send reinforcments ASAP-"

He heard a thud on the floor right besides him as Captain Tibbs took up a prone position right next to him. The Hellfighter officer fired off a pair of Cryoban slugs from his shotgun at the lead Brute Zealot. The helmed soldier offered him a brief glance.

"You're a fish out of water here, sir."

"I hate to admit it," said Gir, attempting to line up another shot on their bryn'adul attackers.

"Here, take this...just in case."

The officer handed him a cold, cylindrical object which Gir managed to fumble into one of his uniform's oversized pockets. Oh great, I'm a fish out of water, so let's just give me an explosive that I've used in training what...maybe once? He silently cursed his lack of luck.

 

[Rurik Fel]

M A N _ O F _ I R O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD EXECUTOR
KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
1st CRUSADE FLEET | NIV 'ANTARES DRACO'
Iron Skin | Lightsaber | Vengeance of Sword and Sun

IRON FIELDS
​

The killing began in wholesale for the sons of the New Empire. The Silver Jedi had been privy to struggle and toil, certainly so in recent years. War torn from conflict with the Bryn'adul, the Sith and scars still not healed from battles past, there was no doubt in their ability to endure. And certainly no doubt in the ability of their ground forces, the Antarian Rangers...to kill. But it was the New Imperials who rose from nothing and faced war, faced the reaper with that true, intangible desperation in each passing moment. Knowing it was now or never. They would fight and win here or die and be forgotten forever.

The Silver Jedi knew that desperation today. Sev Tok was a far cry from the vaunted halls of Commenor or the serene temples on Kashyyyk. But it was a message all the same. To let the Bryn'adul win here mean't they truly could not protect themselves, they truly could not endure the brutal throes of this new galaxy, where great change came not at the stroke of a pen but of blood and fire.

The New Imperials however, were in form. Rurik was taking the first units through the breach, the first combat contact between New Imperial and Bryn'adul forces. There was only mutterings of doctrines and stratagems that might be employed in large scale military action against the Bryn'adul, but continually, fighting Sith forces remained the primary focus of New Imperial High Command.

The New Imperial Force Corps, would begin to write the book and write the lessons they'd learn today for future engagements. Lessons written in blood.

Manufactured, viral death was heavy in the air. Though they couldn't smell, taste or feel it, it was there. The effects on non-Bryn'adul were...meager, at best but it could still be felt. Certainly so by those in tune with The Force. The death lingering about wrought a dark malaise into his being. But he'd pushed that far to the periphery. If there was anything Fel was adjusted to, it was the miasma of atrocity and its effects bleeding into The Force.

But what disturbed him even more was the fact these Marauders were using it, The Force. He could barely reach out and touch its source through the madness...but only barely.

He had to find it and eliminate it.

However, between him and whoever was wielding this dark power, the might of armor and flesh in the Bryn'adul. Shields, barriers and formations were erected to try and stave back the tide of the New Imperial counter offensive but even as losses began to show in gruesome fury enveloping Rurik, he would not falter. He would endure.

And ultimately, the Stormtroopers and Knights at his side would do the same. They were locked in this cage of blood and fire...and they'd claw their way out of it by all means.

The Commander of the Bryn'adul forces made his presence known, he sought the glory of the kill and in more exacting nature. He was coming for him. They were going to meet and one of them...was going to die.

<"Hans, Paz. Find the source of their malfeasance in the Force...and eliminate it, I will dispose of their commander. Move out."> Rurik commanded through his unit commo before soon enough he began to approach the Commander who brazenly charged past their prepared defensive fighting position and into the fray with the advancing Imperials who were covering and moving for every inch, yearning to get combat engineer troopers close enough to plant charges in the hopes of blasting through the Bryn'adul barriers.

The Lord Executor was nigh impossible to miss in stark argent among the urban dust fall and bloodshed.

His silver blade alight he lurched toward the Bryn'adul Commander, immediately moving to disrupt his charge before swiping the blade up toward his abdomen as he appeared almost immediately in front of him as his other hand, his sole organic hand clasped at the air in front of him before tightening into a fist.

He sought to draw the force of pressure around the Commander's head...and crush the immensely dense and heavy skull in on itself beneath its helmet. Or at the very least, disrupt its focus and draw him out of any illusion of comfort it might fabricate in an adrenaline fueled rage at the Lord Executor.

ALLIES | NIO | NJO | SJC | Saaveina | Hans Rennagen | Paz Koon | Gir Quee

ENEMIES | BRYN | Krarolk T'manu | Seer Kalanthir

​

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

PHASE THREE
Location: Battlefield | Frontlines
Allies: Hrajlmak'Natok | Osam | Gordrak | Udomek Seker | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu | Tathra Khaeus | Aryshda | Sylok'Vanari | Quoron Ver'dum | Sethrak | Seer Kalanthir |
Enemies: Rurik Fel | Paz Koon | Hans Rennagen | Mig Gred | Thirdas Heavenshield | Laertia Io | Varn Barakis | Aurelian Sigismund |
Stave | Cuirass
Forces: Draeyde, Rhivaks, Siege Towers, Superior Draeyde, Brumaks | Servitor Guardian |

Drek'ma delved into the force as the battle slowed around him, his perceptions analysing the struggle down to the smallest of details. For every pebble of rock that shook on the surface as the Servitors did their masters bidding, there was equally a Warrior on either side shaken by the acts of their adversary. The whole dome was consumed in chaos. Drones and Juggernauts died by the thousands, his own Brumaks and Rhivaks cut down and torn apart by overwhelming fire as the unforgiving nanophage and cold ever slowly weakened them. Warlord Galak's Juggernauts were beginning an incremental retreat, as more of them number fell it would get harder to maintain a wider defence line. Drek'ma understood but he could not follow them, he was intent on staying put. The nearby Juggernaut Captain called to him, calling out for the slow push back but Drek'ma held to his promise. He turned, facing the enemy force as he erected a barrier directly in front of himself. A small defence but one nonetheless. He would complete his mission with the Guardian, he had no intention to retreat. Bio-blaster fire continued to batter against his shield as Drek'ma numbed himself to the sound of the battle, focusing on the reverberations of the Guardian as the cracks continue to shift and separate the plates of earth that held the hollowed foundations of their adversaries city upright. Once Ostak's own Servitors attacked, the bulk of the Concord's horde would be pulled down into the earth along with the Guardian. It prepared for their attack, readying itself to rend open the cavern.

A cryoban grenade flew over his barrier, landing at his side as Drek'mas concentration broke for a moment. He stared down at the small circular orb as it exploded in a wash of freezing ice. The quickly freezing liquid consumed his right foot up to the ankle, the restriction holding him in place now reliant on one leg to keep himself upright. But he was Aeravalin, the cold would not harm him. But it had trapped him, with his power focused on the barrier and the control of the Guardian, there was no escaping his vulnerable position now.

The illumination of the dark grew to a halt as casted vaunts of emerald light rays began to dance across the fallen corpses. Sunlight. And with it, the tremble through the force announced the presence of the barricas terraformer before it even broke the surface. The massive beasts roots stretched across the battlefield, forest green trappings like massive weeds and roots made themselves apparent as they tore through the earth around them. The deadly cold orchestrated by the Jedi was cast from the air, a dense heat replacing it as he sensed the nanophage too was vanquished. The rise of the sun meant one thing only, they had done it. One could see it;

Mandalorians. New Imperial. Galactic Alliance. Sith. Silver Jedi.

All of those who could protect the worlds the Bryn'adûl had set their eyes on, they were here. A small, insignificant force had drawn and held them here. And they would continue to do so until the fleet of the Divine Brutality seized the other systems. The trap had been a success, they had held through the cold unforgiving night. Every single warrior left standing had proved their strength on this day. And now, it was time to end it all. The words of the Chieftain rung through the ears of every single Bryn'adul warrior on the planet, combined with the battle meditation of the Seer, the Ashaka and the Dreddikkast. Drek'ma could not help but smile as he felt the rising strength of the Baedurin return once more. Undeterred by the cold, heat and sun at their backs as the red air of Draemidus reminded them of what they were fighting for. They rushed in to attack, the Siege Towers unleashing a rapid succession of fire into the hordes of the enemy, some of their turrets turning on the rush of marines entering the battlefield alongside others focusing on the approach of the New Imperials. Ballista fire cracked down on enemy artillery and mechanised infantry, paladins and battledroids focused on in cohesion with the Chieftain's War Beasts and Reavers.

Drek'ma heard the call of Ostak, his Servitors surging forth almost in unison with the approach of three others. Warlock Hrajlmak, he could feel his old student through the force. The trinity worked together as Ostak's Servitors widened the cracks of the earth, the Servitors of the First Warlocks applied pressure from above as they crashed down on the enemy forces - the writhing Servitors crashing their bodies down on the surface. The Guardian, with all its strength widening a cavern amid the combined forces of their enemy. That was when he felt it, the pain of the Warlock as he screamed against the air, against the force as ever Shaman, Warlock and Ashaka felt the death of Hrajlmak through the force.

Pain. Drek'ma had never felt such pain. He had cast Hrajlmak out of the Shaman order for his insolence. But even so, the once beast master had carved out a piece of the Galaxy for himself, fighting on the fringes of the Sith/Bryn border and helping the Chieftain push the Sith back to Drommund Kass when they had attacked. He had cast out Hrajlmak, and now as he died. Drek'ma saw his long lost student as an equal, as he always should have. Ostak had taught him humility, the importance of unity. The Primarch only wished he'd known that when he pushed Hrajlmak away. He could only blame himself, as one of the greatest Draelvasier he'd ever known fell, and drew no breath.

Hrajmak's scream echoed through the force. It echoed through the mind stone in reverberations of the Titan's words. Did they wish to die on their knees? Or stand? The Bryn'adûl choose to stand, and even as they tasted the cold and the poison -

Their mouths would lament nothing. Biting with vengeance.

The last words of Hrajlmak'Natok fuelled the Primach's power as his eyes glowed golden, arms shaking as he raised his Stave before striking it into the ground. The Guardian beneath, it bit with vengeance as with all its strength it unleashed the combined efforts of the three masters of the force and their beasts as a two-kilometre stretch of earth began to collapse in upon itself in the middle of the enemies forces. Entire segments of city, beginning to crumble and fall into the thousand metre abyss below.

"FOR HRAJLMAK."

 

[Galak]

STANDOFF
​

PHASE THREE
Location: Front and centre on the battlefield.
Bryn'Bois: Primarch Drek'ma | Tathra Khaeus | Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok | Gordrak | Udomek Seker | Sethrak | Aryshda | Sylok'Vanari | Ostak Cl'mana
Adversaries: Beltran Rarr | Thirdas Heavenshield | Laertia Io | Chasianna |
Equipment: Armour | Syphon Beam Rifle |
Forces: Juggernauts | Drones | Juggernaut Heavies | Juggernaut Majors | Gunboats |

His opponent growled, a beast beneath its armour just as he was. Galak pushed with his wrist blades as hard as he could, the slightly taller Paladin holding his blades at bay, palm of its hand around his fist as it's right threw a claw for his throat. Galak raised his left arm, barely catching the underside of the Paladins wrist with his own, fighting with what strength he had left to keep them from tearing out his lungs. The cold air stung at his longs, made his body ache - his wounds deafening his body to any strength that remained as he slowly lost the struggle against the Paladin leader. His own Juggernauts slowly retreating around him, Ultras poisoned as others boiled alive from the new deployments of the nanophage. He spat between gritted teeth, face contorting in strain as a bolt of energy flew past him. He heard the echoes of metal crashing against the ground as the momentary strike left both he and his adversary surprised. He looked to his right, watching as Tathra rose only to be thrown down by a miasma of chaingun fire. He saw it, he saw hundreds of bullets blasting through the Titan as he staggered back. Guilt fuelled him even as his vision blurred, still struggling against the Paladins strength as his own withered.

Overhead, Gunboats were caught in fire ground the ground and new entry by bombers and fighters. The air began dense with activity, New Imperial forces delivered to the battlefield alongside more of the Galactic Alliance. It was truly the Galactic stage posed against them, but even with all their might they were failing. The cold, it became unbearable as the fighting continued to drag out for what felt like hours on end, and as their lines were at their weakest - that was when the Rim-Guard made their move, lead by their Lord-Imperator into the field. They all pushed, mandalorians, clones, alliance, jedi. All of them, except the droids covering behind the barricades.

Galak fought with all the strength he had left, fighting with rage in his heart at the thought of losing Osam and Tathra. But it meant nothing, the cold was going to kill him before any soldier did. Yet in an instant, that defeatism was crushed as Galak felt the heat of the sun on his back, the sun crept out from the crack of the mountains and bathed the canyon in light. But that wasn't all, as if the universe had planned it the Barricas Terraformer rose from the earth as well - green roots spread all the way to their front lines as the cold disappeared in seconds, a comforting heat replacing it as Galak felt the battle meditation of the Seer. They'd made it, every single Warrior at his side had made it. But that didn't mean it was over, far from it. They still had to pay for Osam. For Tathra. With the cold gone, the Warlord could breath again. His bones did not ache so much as cry out for battle and he knew that his Juggernauts and Drones felt the same. His warrior watched as Galak rose, roaring to fuel himself with adrenaline, unravelling his arms from betwixt that of the Paladin Captains as he grasped either side of the Paladin's head between them, driving his thumbs through the helmet and into the Paladins eyes.

The Chieftain's message cut across the battlefield, fuelling the fire as he stood up once again - blasting apart an oncoming wave nearby as Servitors burst ahead of them, three striking against the ground as the earth rumbled deep. No doubt from the Guardian, a massive pit opening in the thick of the Concord's combined forces just beyond the front-lines. Galak knew what they had to do, the sun was at their backs and fire set in their hearts. They'd drive the whole damn Concord into the abyss. Their brethren fell today, more and more. The Bryn'adûl would be coming in force, whether to seize the systems or to pull them out of the fire he didn't know. The Juggernauts charged in at the behest of the Ultras and what remained of their Drones as the Gunboats that still held altitude would concentrate fire on the lines just behind the front.

Let them trample their own.

Today the few that still clung to life, they would stand. They would not lament, and they would bite with vengeance against those who had taken from them, against those who saught to further spread the great plague of weakness. Hrajlmak had died for them, Osam had possibly died for them! Just as Keldothera had and his death would not be in vain. He wouldn't allow it, he couldn't. The Juggernauts at Galak's side fought harder than before, overlapping lanes of fire working in cohesion with their Siege Towers as the Ravagers of the Titan ran through the enemy, allowing them to fill in gaps as they incrementally pushed.

With the backing of the Dreddikkast, the Ashaka, the Seers - they fought without fear, they had survived the night and now they fought with a fierce vengeance in their hearts. Galak roared as he drove his knee into the Paladins chest, knocking him back as Galak msde fists of his blood soaked hands.

The dawn had come, and now so would the hammer upon the anvil.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran Rarr

Location: Inside the Thunder Dome, Anvil, Sev Tok
Objective: Slaughter Bryn
Allies: SJC and Allied Personnel, interacting with Thirdas Heavenshield , Laertia Io , Chasianna , Jairdain, Subject 73 Red (indirectly)
Location: defending Anvil (open to all interactions)
Enemies: The Bryn'adul (open to all interactions), specifically looking to feed Tathra Khaeus his own intestines.
Loadout:

• Armor: Katarn Mk. III Light Powered Armor
• Clothing: Katarn Undersuit, Bantha Load-bearing system
• Primary Weapons: 10mm Pulse Rifle
• Secondary Weapons: Death-Dealer Handcannon (drop holster, right hip - loaded with Sith-Killer Ammunition), Pulse Pistol (chest holster) Lightsaber (clipped to waist), Lightsaber Pike (strapped to back), Wrist Mounted Blaster (right wrist), Tactical Vibroblade (right boot), Incendiary Grenades, Cryo-Ban Grenades

Beltran jumped back as Tathra Khaeus ' axe swung once more for him. Only his enhanced speed got his arm out of the way of the Tyrant's counter attack, preventing a blow that would have most definitely removed the limb. Firing the remaining three rounds directly at the monster, Beltran gave space as Thirdas Heavenshield shouted for him to move.

"Beltran, Laertia! Step aside!"

As the minigun tore into Tathra's flesh, Beltran dropped his hand-cannon. He side-stepped an attack by another Bryn and swung his lightsaber with deadly accuracy, beheading the offending creature in a single strike.

His comms crackled a little and suddenly Beltran could hear the tense voice of Major Ecks. Because he'd dropped his helmet, it played aloud for all nearby who could hear.

"Major Ecks for Colonel Rarr, Colonel Higgus had arrived in the city with Hades Platoon and his detail. I'm sending him to you now."

"Negative," Beltran responded. "Have Colonel Higgus' detachment meet up and reinforce the cordon being held around the battle by the 3rd. I can't help but feel that the Bryn'adul have a trap in store for those of us who have rushed to meet them. Set Hades up in sniper positions and begin picking off the biggest threats."

"Understood. Ecks out."

It wasn't a particularly astute observation. The Bryn'adul wouldn't have landed right in the center of the city without realizing that it would bring the defenders response from all sides. As usual, they had acquitted themselves well, but their advance had been staggered and even halted in places. They were powerful warriors, but also cunning tacticians who had to know that they wouldn't be able to win the day on pure strength alone.

Over the general battlenet, Beltran heard another of the allied commanders give voice to his own thoughts.

"This is Aiglos for all allied commanders. I advise caution more than simple assault. It makes no sense that the enemy is landing in our centre, outnumbered. Proposal made to secure a circle around the ship rather than getting too close to it. I repeat ..."

Beltran would leave the coordination of those maneuvers to Major Ecks as his attention was brought back to the present by the cry of the flying creature as it moved overhead. He could feel the radiated waves of fear that the being projected and he took it in with a deep breath.

"Delicious," He said aloud, his voice dripped with the power of it. Behind him, elements of the 3rd Infantry broke cover and ran back, beating the Major's orders to retreat even as she made them. The more stalwart among the remaining 666th buckled, but held their ground and the Paladins....well they ate fear for breakfast. They too held their positions and continued the fight.

"FORWARD, MARCH!"

The forces of the 666th and Paladin Company, in addition to the Rangers directly under Heavenshield's command heeded the Lieutenant's order. Beltran raised his lightsaber and his men cheered aloud behind him, rallying to his sunset orange blade.

He could see that the Tyrant had been staggered by Heavenshield's barrage. Blood dripped from Tathra's wounded flesh and Beltran grinned a predatory grin as he stalked toward the beast. "I can smell your pain, Tathra Khaeus," He told the being, even as he fed off of the negative emotions. "I feast on it."

The Guardian beneath, it bit with vengeance as with all its strength it unleashed the combined efforts of the three masters of the force and their beasts as a two-kilometre stretch of earth began to collapse in upon itself in the middle of the enemies forces. Entire segments of city, beginning to crumble and fall into the thousand metre abyss below.

Beltran felt the shaking below them and knew instantly what it meant. The Bryn'adul had done the same on Nar Kreeta. As the Guardian began to hollow out the space underneath him, whole sections of the battlefield disappeared. Several groups of militia fell screaming. The Rangers of the 666th had jumpjets and so did the Paladins, so they managed to keep to the still solid portions of ground- meeting the Bryn'adul charge head on.

On Nar Kreeta, Beltran had attempted to destroy the Guardian himself, but today he only had eyes for Tathra Khaeus . Jumping forward, he swung his blade with renewed fury as he closed the distance with the Tyrant. With his off hand, he sent a ball of Force lightning hurling directed at the being's face. He was sure that the creature's axe would be able to deflect it, but that didn't matter. The intent with that attack was to distract while he lunged forward with his blade, attempting to disembowel the Tyrant that same way that the creature had him on Yurb.

From behind, Captain Mrawr rallied his Paladins and descended into the hole. They were going for the Guardian with lethal intent.

Spoiler: Ranger Order of Battle and Summary of Actions

Hades Platoon – 50 Rangers – Divided into squads and set up in observation posts outside of the city. Snipers set up to take down high value targets (Bryn officers and the like) and communicate enemy movements.

UPDATE: Linking up with stranded 666th Elements, attempting to secure air transport back to city.

UPDATE: Elements have returned to the city. Mobilizing with other forces and moving to reinforce the perimeter of the battle.

Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry – 1800 Rangers – Set up along the outer most wall of Anvil, anchoring key sections of the defense along side SDF and Planetary Militia –

UPDATE: Mortar teams are beginning to pepper the Bryn'adul landing site with shells. Machine gun nests are being set up in an arc around the landing site. Standard infantry is moving to reinforce the 666th QRF's and allied counter attackers. All indirect fire is pretty much being deflected by Thunder Dome at the moment.

Beltran has joined forces with Thirdas Heavenshield , Laertia Io , Chasianna and is moving to engage Tathra Khaeus .

UPDATE: Force Fear (Re: Tathra Khaeus ) causing unrest, Beltran ordering affected units to withdraw to the perimeter of the battle. Mortar units and machine gun nests still functioning and working to contain Bryn'adul advance. (Approx. 250 dead or wounded atm)

663[SUP]rd[/SUP] Mobile Artillery – 64 Rangers - Set up inside the walls alongside other artillery units for priority fire missions as needed - UPDATE: Wiped out by Epitaph's landing.

666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized Infantry – 1000 Rangers in CAV vehicles with minor armor support –
300 Rangers and CO currently deploying thermonuclear mines at possible Bryn’adul landing zones outside city.

UPDATE: Approx 200 Rangers currently stranded due to power loss of unknown origin. Moving on foot toward Hades Platoon positions. 100 Rangers returning to Anvil. Mines deployed.

UPDATE: 100 Rangers returned to Anvil, currently moving through main city gates. Moving toward Epitaph landing site to engage Bryn'adul. 200 Rangers currently linking up with Hades Platoon, seeking air transport to city if possible.

600 divided into Quick Reaction Forces (100 Rangers each), located in middle levels of city.
Utilizing Gweld-Class CAV’s for quick movements.

UPDATE: All six quick reaction forces engaging Bryn'adul now (600 Rangers and vehicles). Most are inside the Thunder Dome, heavily engaged with Bryn'adul forces. (Approx 200 dead or wounded atm)

UPDATE: BOMB detonation kills several front line units. (Approx 350 dead or wounded atm).

UPDATE: Bryn'adul charge causes more deaths. (Approx 430 dead or wounded, remainder holding the line as best they can)

Paladin Company – 150 Rangers – Deployed to top most level of Anvil, all utilizing A.I.P.S battle suits in defense of Shield Generator - UPDATE: Currently holding position at shield generator. Not happy about it.

UPDATE: Shield deactivated, Paladin Company moving toward Thunder-dome-murder and mayhem on their minds. Paladin Squad arrives, begins to slaughter Bryn like it's their job....mostly because it is.

UPDATE: Engaging the Bryn near Galak 's position. Captain Mrawr is attacked Galak directly.

UPDATE: Continuing assault.

 

[Liram Angellus]

GAME ON YAKHEAD!​

LOCATION: Open Space

Spoiler: SHIP AND FIGHTER MAKEUP

SHIP NAME: ETHEREAL
SHIP CLASS: CARRIER
SHIP CAPTAIN: LIRAM ANGELLUS
COMMAND STAFF

FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Captain Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Voodoo 1", Commander Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Voodoo 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Voodoo 3". Each Squadron leader makes up "Voodoo Wing", their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.

HIGH-SPEED INTERCEPTION

1. Voodoo 4(Retribution Squadron)Jackal Class Starfighter
2. Voodoo 5(Jurat Squadron) Jackal Class Starfighter
3. Voodoo 6(Retribution Squadron)Jackal Class Starfighter

LONG RANGE INTERCEPTION

1. Voodoo 7(Gator Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
2. Voodoo 8(Raguel Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
3. Voodoo 9(Beak Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor
4. Voodoo 10(Jok Squadron) Archangel class Fighter/Interceptor

MULTIPURPOSE SUPERIORITY FIGHTER

1. Voodoo 11(Razorback Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
2. Voodoo 12(Jurist Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
3. Voodoo 13(Fi Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
4. Voodoo 14(Prac Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
5. Voodoo 15(Tic Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing
6. Voodoo 16(Alcalde Squadron) NC-1 X-Wing

ATTACK/HIGH-SPEED INTERCEPTION

1. Voodoo 17(Kers Squadron) RZ-3 A-Wing interceptor
2. Voodoo 18(Requital Squadron) RZ-3 A-Wing interceptor
3. Voodoo 19(Scimitar Squadron) RZ-3 A-Wing interceptor

BOMBERS W ESCORT

1. Voodoo 20(Que Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
2. Voodoo 21(M'lud Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
3. Voodoo 22(Gatto Squadron) Demon Class Bomber
4. Voodoo 23(Vulcano Squadron) Soverenignty Class Heavy/Assault Fighter
5. Voodoo 24(Bulwark Squadron) Soverenignty Class Heavy/Assault Fighter

SUPPORT/TRANSPORTS

1. Voodoo 25(Artillery Squadron) Cherub Gunship
2. Voodoo 26(Ferret Squadron) Cherub Gunship
3. Voodoo 27(Ferret II Squadron)Cherub Transport
4. Voodoo 28(Ferret III Squadron)Cherub Transport

Spoiler: ETHEREAL MARINES

Seraphim Marines
Powered Armor
Cherub Troop Transport
Cherub Gunship
Saraquael Fighting Vehicles

Spoiler: ANGELLUS LORE

Is here.

ORDERS: Marines engaging.
WINGMATES: Gir Quee Subject 73 Red Westenra Mina Beltran Rarr Thirdas Heavenshield Osam Tathra Khaeus

"Conn-Tactical" Yelled out the station Commander.

"Go ahead Tactical." Halpern spoke up as Liram was busy reading the topography.

"MASSIVE energy surge picked up on ground level."

Now Liram was paying attention as he looked up confused.

How? We can't get any comms or readings from inside that thing?

"Don't know, but whatever it is, energy readings are picking up as if beginning from the inside and stretching outward. Almost like something in there is growing."

Both Tantor and Halpern looked at Angellus concerned, this was something strange. "Exactly what type of readings are you getting?"

"Not sure, but they seem to be... 'biological'..."

Get us a safe distance away from that dome.

"What about the Marines? Admiral Quee? The rest of our people and allies down there? "

We'll support them every and any way we can, but I have forty thousand other sentients to think of on this ship...

The ground battle was a different story. The Marines were showing their worth and holding their own against the powerful Bryn. They were losing many, yes, but they were taking down just as many and the falls of what looked to be some leaders only pushed them harder. They were not sailors, they were not soldiers, they were 'jarheads, they were Marines. The fighting vehicles were tougher than two credit nerf steaks, and the gunships were proving just how many teeth they have. Colonel Telaskt had things in hand when comms picked up Admiral Quee's call for assistance. Grabbing a comm-link, she put in the response.

"Admiral, sir, this is Lt. Colonel Adorn Telaskta I'm sending three detachments your way, just let me know if you need more." Switching frequencies, she contacted one of the other fighting vehicles. "Captain Nirab, take two Saraquel vehicles, three gunships, and three detachments with you to the location I'm sending to your datapad. Reinforce Admiral Quee's post."

"Colonel... a flight of Sovereigntys is calling for attack info. Callsign Convor" The Saraquel driver yelled out.

Picking up the mobile mic, she barked out. "Convor Flight, this is Krayt, how copy."

"Solid Copy, Krayt. We have a couple of extra bombs we don't want to carry, where would you like us to put'em?"

She just grinned. "I know some Bryn'a'dul that might be curious as to what they looked like."

The comm-traffic came back as anyone that looked behind them could see the four attack fighters lining up for an attack run. "Then what say we give them an up-close look, eh?"

"Alpha Michael Kilo!" She yelled out as one of the gunners looked her way.

"'Alpha. Michael. Kilo', Ma'am?"

She smiled as the fighters roared overhead and into their attack run, railgun tearing into Bryn forces as bombs were dropping.

"Adios... Mother..." The bomb's effect drowned out her last word... though anyone could read her lips and know what she was saying.

Spoiler: SUMMARY OF ACTIONS

• Ethereal is moving back into position in planet's orbit.
• Marines directly engaging Bryn Forces.
• 3 flights (four each) of attack fighters engaging Bryn forces
• 3 flights (four each) of bombers attacking Terraformer
• 3 detachments, 2 fighting vehicles, and 2 gunships reinforcing Gir Quee 's position.

 

[Aryshda]

Phase Three
Allies: Bryn , Tathra Khaeus , Galak , Osam , Sethrak , Hrajlmak'Natok , Quoron Ver'dum , Hrajlmak'Natok
Enemies: SJC and their allies , Laertia Io , Aurelian Sigismund , Thirdas Heavenshield , Beltran Rarr , Gir Quee
Equipment: Drone Armor, Mangler Submachine Gun, Quilxyn Personal Shield, Sun Quaker Grenade

Another explosion rocked the building next to Aryshda, rubble raining down on him and the other drones next to him. They were crouched in an alleyway, laying in wait. Aryshda itched to be back in the fighting. He could hear fighting close by, the battle raging on. He wished to be there, fighting alongside his family. He ached to be out there, slaughtering the Jedi. But, he could not defy an order, so he laid in wait with two other Sraelvun squads. Nearby, a Drone Commander was crouched near them, waiting to give the signal to attack.

Then, their target appeared. A Jedi walker lurched forward, firing towards Bryn'adul forces. It was escorted by infantry, trying to make sure no Bryn'adul got close to the walker. But they hadn't been expecting an ambush.

"Go!" The Drone Commander yelled. Aryshda and the other Drones jumped up, and charged out of the alleyway, weapons firing. The infantry escorting the walker turned, and returned fire. But they had been caught off-guard, so Aryshda and the other Drones had the advantage. Aryshda fired his weapon, the Submachine Gun spraying molten bullets into the Jedi infantry. He mowed down one soldier, then leaped forward and used the bayonet on his submachine gun to stab another through the heart. Pulling the bayonet out as the soldier fell to the ground, Aryshda continued to open fire on the Jedi infantry, spraying into them as they struggled to return fire. Blaster fire zipped around him, and multiple other Drones were getting shot down by said blaster fire. Aryshda shot down two more, hearing the soldiers scream in pain as they went down.

"Take down the walker!" The Drone Commander ordered, rushing into the fight.

Aryshda jumped up onto the walker, climbing up onto the top of the vehicle. Reaching the top of the walker, he opened up the hatch. Inside, the walker crew looked up at him, surprised. Then, Aryshda threw in a Sun Quaker grenade, and shut the hatch. He heard the grenade go off, filling the interior of the walker with the toxin. He could hear the crew inside coughing and choking. Then, the hatch started to open. The crew were trying to escape from the toxin. Aryshda grabbed the hatch, and shut it again, this time holding it in place. Aryshda could feel the crew trying to shove the hatch open, but it was no use. Aryshda was far stronger than them, and he could easily hold it in place, despite their best efforts. He could still hear the crew choking and coughing, trapped inside with no escape. Then, one-by-one, he started to hear the choking and the coughing stop, and he could hear the thuds as the crew fell to the floor, dead. eventually, no more sounds came from inside the walker, and the walker stopped moving and firing completely.

Aryshda jumped off of the walker. "Walker crew has been killed, Commander." Aryshda reported.

The Commander nodded. "Good, now we can push our troops further forward. Continue eliminating the infantry." Th Commander said.

Aryshda nodded, and ran forward, taking cover behind a large piece of rubble, multiple other Drones were also there, firing at the incoming Jedi forces. Aryshda raised his submachine gun, and fired it, spraying bullets at the incoming soldiers.

What a glorious time to be alive.

 

[Sethrak]

Phase Three


Post: 7
The Frontlines

For Hrajlmak
​

Sethrak froze in mid swing. He felt the death, and it hit him like a rancor. His temporary pause allowed his foe to deliver a kick to the center of his chest which sent him flying back and gasping for air. The jedi took no time to thrust his saber down at the fallen Warlord. Sethrak caught the saber in his hands, dropping his spear and using The Force to absorb the energy through his hands. It was working, but the saber was slipping through his hands, inching toward his chest.

Sethrak tried to kick at the Jedi to no avail as there wasn't enough room to have the momentum to do any damage. Not that it didn't hurt the Jedi as he grimaced and grunted with every kick...but it wasn't enough to stop him from attempting to stab Sethrak.

Becoming desperate, The Warlock focused on the energy he was absorbing. Instead of dissipating it, he reflected it.

It worked.

The energy exploded like a grenade, sending the Jedi flying and slamming Sethrak's head against the ground. Pain soared through him as any areas on his chest that were unprotected by his armor were burnt badly, causing him to roar out in agony.

The shock of the death that made him freeze to begin with kicked in. The external pain faded as the internal pain and adrenaline took over. The Warlord jumped to his feet, ignoring the charred flesh and open wounds he now had. The Jedi was still down with similar wounds, allowing Sethrak an easy kill. He took it, pulling the Jedi toward him by the leg and stomping on his throat, crushing the windpipe.

Now he could take a moment to mourn the death. It was no other than the mighty Hrajlmak, head of The Warlock Caste, and by default a role model and mentor to Sethrak. Sethrak fell to a knee, the pain in his chest returning in force. Beyond that he was overcome with sadness. Of all the Bryn'adul, he had least expected Hrajlmak to fall. He didn;t have many true friends, but he did find himself attached to some more than others. Those he had fought with the most, those that supported him, and those that proved themselves. Keldotherra had been one such Drael. Hrajlmak was no different.

But this was not the time for thinking such things. His wounds were worse than he thought, and many troops were now without a leader. Sethrak needed to act. He rose to his feet once more, legs shaking from the pain he took a few small steps forward before he decided he couldn't go on. He fell to a knee again, in a controlled way this time.

Then he lifted a communication stone and called to all nearby forces.

"Drael, this is warlord Sethrak. I need healing assistance. Furthermore, for those unaware, The mighty Hrajlmak has fallen. Do not falter, he would not want that, but instead avenge him. For every one of us that falls, twenty of them shall!"

Orders dispatched, all The young Warlock could do now was keep his consciousness, and wait for the healers. Normally he would heal himself, but he was too tired and in too much pain to focus enough to do such a thing. The Warlock held on....

 

[Varn Barakis]

Location: Anvil
Tags: Jax Thio Aayla Shan Mig Gred Cadere Liedran Kathause Osam Sylok'Vanari Kranak Vizsla

Varn stumbled from the building in the general direction of the last remaining Rhivak. He didn't know where it was exactly, but with Rymar's people feeding him information, it wouldn't take much to narrow it down. Or so he thought. The constant chatter coming through his new earpiece told of a thousand tales being spun, none of them very encouraging. A dozen deaths here, a whole platoon lost there. Anger and pain and loss was like a physical presence disturbing the air around Varn, and he couldn't help but shiver at the extent of it all. It left him feeling lost, sick.

Or maybe that was just the pounding headache, and the bile clogging his throat like poison manifest.

Whatever the reason, the Jedi knight did what he could to focus. He had a job to do, and the means to do it. The voices in his ear helped walk him along the path, turning him when he risked going astray. Before long, he found the carnage the last Rhivak had left in it's wake. Broken speeders, damaged buildings, one or two unfortunate souls who'd been foolish enough to get in it's way. Or perhaps they'd just been unlucky. Been. Past tense. Varn wondered if anyone on Sev Tok had a future.

He'd know soon enough. Or he wouldn't know anything at all.

"All right, then." He said to himself, his voice distant, foreign. Something in the words helped Varn steel himself as he followed the path. It led him down streets that had, up until recently, borne all manners of life. Now, they were deserted. If not for the sounds echoing back to him, Varn would've thought himself alone. Not so. Picking up the pace, the Jedi had to catch himself as he followed the Rhivak. The headache that bugged him constantly brought friends; dizziness and forgetfulness battled for the right to torment him. He would've been annoyed by this had he not felt so utterly wrong in himself. His balance, his thoughts, both betrayed him when he needed them most.

He didn't know he'd caught up to the Rhivak until it was bellowing in his face. By then, it was too late to turn back. Igniting his lightsaber, the Jedi leapt aside as it's jaws snapped shut on the place he'd been just a moment before. Spinning, the Jedi slashed at anything in his reach. Arms, legs, belly and the belly-limbs that reached out to him like old friends. The creature roared as he went to work. A part of him knew the pain he was inflicting, recognized it for what it was. Unclean. Slow. Not the way he'd been taught to do things. Had he any other choice, he would not have fought the way he fought, done the things he did in the seconds and minutes it took to kill the Rhivak.

But needs must. And Varn's needs were greater.

Bending his knees, his back straight, the knight danced around the Rhivak. This time, he knew what to expect, what to look for. Months and years of training had led to this moment. Experience had honed him into something more than he had once been. The Force carried him further. It made him quicker, more agile. As soon as the deathblow fell, he Leapt clear, took cover. The explosion that rocked the world around him was no less fierce than the last time. It was, however, further away. Isolated, to a degree.

It still made one hell of a racket.

Glass shattered into a million tiny stars as the blast shook Anvil. Stone and timber splintered, disintegrated beneath an ionic wave. It started in a blur of noise and ended in a haze. Varn was too busy trying to keep his head from splitting in two to notice the aftermath. Hands that might've been his touched his temples. His left arm felt kind of fuzzy, heavier than it had any right to be. A part of him wished for it all to be over and done with already. Another wished to continue. One Rhivak gone, and still the battle raged. He told himself he could not rest until it was done. The more rational him wanted to lie down and sleep.

So what if he never woke from that slumber? It would be an easy choice to make.

Climbing to his feet, he put a finger to his ear. Captain Rymar's voice came back to him a moment later. "Sir?"

"It's done." Varn said, his voice stronger than he expected. The Force waxed and waned, bringing with it new energy, and a weight that settled squarely between the knight's shoulder blades. Something like exhaustion. "I'm on my way back now." Back to the battle. Back to the people that needed him most Cadere . Back to the feelings of anger and sorrow and fear. Rymar's voice dispersed them.

"Very good, sir. And you?" It took a moment for Varn to notice the implication.

"No," he replied, a small smile forming behind the mask of grime and blood that covered his face. "I'm not done yet."

"Very good, sir." The pause that followed was filled with relief. It was almost infectious. "Very good."