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

[Kranak Vizsla]

Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, City Center, 550 Meters Southwest of The Epitaph
Local Time: 22:28
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Defend the City of Anvil Alongside SJC Forces in the Area
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 2 (Carrying 1x Portable Clip Recharger in utility Field Butt Pack. Flame Projector swapped out with a CryoBan Projector.)
Friendlies: SJC | Cadere | Zephyr Krayt [KIA]
Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Osam | Sylok'Vanari

The giant made his way towards the courtyard as fast as he could, occasionally vaulting over debris on his path. He could see a fellow Vod and a Jetii fight off two large Bryn’adûl warriors, about twenty or so meters into the courtyard. They were mostly locked in melee; the two were trying to keep the two giant Bryn’adûl warriors at bay, fighting for their lives.

He’d assist them in fighting off the creatures, but he first had to find and extract any and all wounded allied personnel from the combat zone. Scanning for the injured in the perimeter, the giant was quick to hear and react to the abrupt and sporadic blaster fire coming from his left flank.

[“Friendly coming in! Check your fire!”] Kranak shouted towards the human silhouette as he ran towards him.

The injured man was slumped on the ground; his back resting against a broken pillar on the ground. His HUD quickly identified the silhouette to be a Ranger, and placed a hollow blue diamond over the injured man’s head.

The Ranger slowly lowered his right hand and the blaster pistol he held with it as he looked at the Mandalorian, unhurriedly. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

[“Are there any more injured?”] Kranak asked as he swiftly let go of his Paranaor Blaster Rifle and crouched next to the injured Ranger.

He switched on his medisensor built into his helmet mounted macrobinocular to scan the Ranger and find out the full extent of his injuries, among other medical data relevant to his current medical emergency.

The medisensor fed data to his HUD not a moment after he started scanning the injured Ranger. Active hemorrhage, low blood pressure from blood loss, low heart rate, severe lacerations and avulsions by the left leg starting from above the knee, all the way down to his ankle; with a number of comminuted and compound fractures by the Tibia and Fibula.

The Ranger’s popliteal artery, popliteal vein, anterior tibial artery, peroneal artery, anterior tibial vein, posterior tibial artery and vein featured a number of ruptures. His Medisensor would continue to relay medical data to Kranak’s HUD regarding the Ranger in question as time went on.

His leg would’ve been in a better shape if he had it shredded in a wood chipper. It was a complete mess. A medic like Kranak would have a field day with it, but the giant didn’t have the time to patch him up right on the spot. All he could do was to make sure the hemorrhage would not start while he was moved to the next level of medical care. Protocol dictated that the wounded personnel was to be treated in a secure area, preferably not in the middle of combat.

The ranger spoke after heaving a troubled sigh. “No, it’s just me,” said the Ranger. “Although that might change soon.” he said, as he nodded towards the Jedi and the Mandalorian battling it out with the two Bryn’adûl warriors in the courtyard.

[“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Let’s take care of you first.”] said Kranak in response as he began a short medical procedure to stabilize the injured Ranger.

With haste, the Mandalorian reached for the Ranger’s IFAK hung on his web gear. Compared to what the militia had on them, the Rangers usually had more medical supplies on their IFAK’s to patch themselves up. From the Ranger’s IFAK pouch, he retrieved a Field Cauterizer and used it to disinfect the messy wound.

The Ranger had already fastened a tourniquet a few inches above his left knee to slow down the bleeding. If it wasn’t for the tourniquet, the Ranger would have bled out a long time ago due to his injuries.

The Ranger was in no longer fighting shape anyway. He wouldn’t do any good to anyone in his current shape in combat. The Ranger was in need of extraction. He quickly reached for a single use stim-pack auto injector from his ECM-598 Medical Backpack to administer the medicine to the injured Ranger.

His medisensor swiftly located the appropriate vein on the Ranger’s left arm for the injection, highlighting it in Kranak’s HUD. Kranak quickly removed the Ranger’s rerebrace on his left arm before administering the stim-pack. Gently piercing through the Ranger’s uniform, the man winced as the needle poked into one of his veins. After pressing down on the auto injector button at the top of the auto-injector, the contents of the stim-pack was in his circulation after a short moment.

“God, I hate needles.” said the Ranger, annoyed by the injection. But his voice sounded relieved after the injection. The stim-pack contained drugs to help with the pain, among other things.

[“K’atini, aruetii.”] Kranak replied swiftly in Mando’a as he threw away the spent, single use autoinjector to his right.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” The disgruntled Ranger asked the Ori’ramikad. He didn't understand the response in Mando'a, naturally.

[“Forget it.”]

The Mandalorian reached for bacta patches from his backpack after administering the stim-pack. Upon unpacking the bacta patches, the Baar’ur wrapped them over the Ranger’s injury tightly.

Turning off the medisensor on his helmet mounted macrobinocular, the Ori’ramikad turned his gaze towards the militia riflemen not too far in the distance within the ruins of a building and motioned them to regroup with him by raising his left arm vertically overhead, palm to the front and waving it in large, horizontal circles for a few moments.

The militiamen then carefully abandoned their positions and sprinted towards Kranak to regroup with him. He turned his attention to the injured Ranger shortly after.

[“Alright, we’re gonna get you out of here.”]

“You rang, Sarge?”

The trio had swiftly converged on the Ruus’alor’s position, with Dash and Adriean taking defensive formations around them, forming a small yet effective secure perimeter around them.

[“Barlos, get him out of here. I want all of you to head back home.”] By home, the giant referred to their side of the frontline in this sector.

“What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Adriean, somewhat confused from the situation.

[“I’ll be right behind you with the-”] A blood curdling yell deeper in the courtyard cut off the Mandalorian

“ZEPHYR!!!”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

[“Haarchak! Go!”]

After a curt nod at their Sergeant, the militiamen quickly sprung into action, following their Ruus’alor’s orders. Amongst the ranger’s pained groans and grunts, Dash and Barlos picked up the injured Ranger from the ground and started to make their way back to the Concord frontline as fast as they could, with Adriean pulling security.

The sprinted towards the fighting in the courtyard. The sound clashing nearby started to die out as he came closer to the source of the blood curdling yell. He assumed the worst; that he was too late and the Jetii and the fellow vod were killed by the Bryn’adûl.

Turning around the corner, the Mandalorian laid eyes on the scene before him. He could see the Jetii with a blaster pistol in his hands, knelt next to a Mandalorian set aflame on the ground; the two hulking Bryn’adûl warriors laid in wait for the opportunity to strike at the two.

But there was something wrong here. The Jetii was pointing the blaster at the burning Mandalorian, between his eyes. <What are you doing?> The Ori’ramikad was puzzled. Why wasn’t the Jetii trying to smother the flames that was burning the incapacitated vod? He could see the Jetii move his hand on the hair trigger of the blaster pistol. His hands that clutching the blaster pistol were shaking uncontrollably.

[“WAIT-”] The Mandalorian shouted, in hopes of stopping the Jetii from killing the Mandalorian, but it was too late.

But before he could continue, upon the gentle squeeze of its trigger by the Jetii, the blaster pistol shot once. Gasping, the giant recoiled as if he was shot instead of the Mandalorian set on fire.

Witnessing the death of his fellow brothers and sisters -whether he knew them by name or not- deeply affected him. There wasn’t any “getting used to” that. He was stricken with grief and rage upon seeing the Mandalorian’s death at the hands of the Jetii. Their kind was already so few in the galaxy, and the Jetii just simply gave up and mercy killed him? What infuriated the giant the most was that he had the training and resources to save him.

But it was too late for that now. The Jetii had finished him off. But he wasn’t the only one responsible for the Mandalorian’s death. The one who set him on fire. He could see the Bryn’adûl warrior’s hand still burning. The tall -even taller than Kranak- alien silhouette on the ground; not so far from the fallen Mandalorian and the Jetii. The alien warrior stood up and produced a firearm from his holster, pointing it at the Jetii, seemingly uncaring of the two Bryn’adûl warriors near him. What seemed to be the Bryn’adûl warrior’s index finger gently rested on the hair trigger of the large handgun.

A part of the Ori’ramikad wanted to let the Bryn’adûl finish off the Jetii, but no. The giant was not going to see him dead until he could get his hands on him. Swiftly, the Ori’ramikad raised clutched and raised his Paranaor Blaster Rifle resting over his chest plate and fired off a salvo directed at Osam as he sprinted towards the tall creature. His intention for this engagement was to be up close and personal.

But after a few shots from his blaster rifle, the weapon dry fired. He was out of blaster bolts in his magazine. Reloading would take time. He was nowhere near the creature to tie him up in melee yet, as well.

Thinking quickly on his feet, Kranak decided to fire off his underbarrel grenade launcher directed at Osam . Despite the quick and accurate firing solutions his HUD’s MSTA and MFTAS provided, he was sprinting towards the towering Bryn’adûl warrior as fast as he could. He aimed the launcher at the creature’s chest. The firing solution had allowed a margin for a miss, taking Kranak’s speed and current inaccuracy due to sprinting into consideration while firing.

The giant fired off the underbarrel grenade launcher with a gentle squeeze of its trigger as he sprinted past the Jetii and the fallen Mandalorian.

T H U M P

The distance between him and the hulking Bryn’adûl warrior was about ten meters. The grenades launched from the underbarrel launcher armed from twenty-five meters and onwards. It was not going to detonate upon impacting the Bryn’adûl warrior, but he hoped it would be enough to disorient the alien long enough to close the distance and fight him.

His rifle was of no use for now. With a strong pull, the giant ripped the weapons sling off him and tossed the rifle aside as he leapt into the air and activated his rocket boots for no more than a second to increase his speed and momentum.

Making a fist mid air, when the Ori’ramikad was close to deliver a punch at what seemed to be the creature’s jaw, he’d swing the punch by twisting his hips and swinging his upper body to hit the creature with the flat of his right hand’s fingers, just below his knuckles, delivering the hook.

 

[Drel Natrik]

Location: Ruusan
Allies: NIO | NJO | Other Allies
Enemies: The Bryn'adûl
Tags: Sehvis Ynin

- CLOSED -
​

Drel saw his Padawan look at the lightsaber with some kind of curiosity. He could sense something within her, and also something new. He was not sure about what had just happened in that short second, but there was no time to ask and it didn't seem too important to the moment at hand. He caught her eye as she looked at him and then turned his head back towards the path & the battlefield ruins. He now spoke about the ancient battle, "It was a place of horror, in its time". "A powerful Sith Lord unleashed a thought bomb onto this world and most of the Jedi & Sith perished immediately". He paused and then continued, "The effects of which have never fully left".

Drel kept on walking as they began to leave the vicinity of the old battleground.

"Come Padawan, we must get to the village with haste, I sense we do not have as much time as we previously thought"

He walked a bit forward and down the next hill and then spoke to his student once again, "Since you know it better, you lead the way Sehvis". Drel finished and put on a smile as he prepared to let his apprentice lead the rest of the way to the village.

For a quick second, he could sense something, something he had not sensed in a while, and it wasn't good. It dissipated instantly, but Drel would be wary, for these times were perilous.

 

[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 (6) Juggernaut Support

• 3 Juggernaut Minors
• 1 Juggernaut Grenadier
• 1 Juggernaut Heavy
• 0 Juggernaut Major
• 1 Quilxyn Protector

Squad C (2) Beast Support

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

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

Enemies: Mourning Knight Cadere | Son of Mandalore Kranak Vizsla

---

Varn Barakis
Even as the Warlord prepared to send the Jedi Knight to oblivion, he was interrupted for the briefest moment by a thought transmitted through from his mindstone. He had paid very little attention to the messages being dispatched to him whilst in the midst of battle, but now that it was so evident that his victory over the Knight and the Mandalorian was at hand, he allowed himself to observe what had been missed. The most recent telepathic thought sent over the network was a simple vocalization from Shaman Azir that the last of the Rhivaks was being put to death, and that it would soon face oblivion.

---

It was good to know that at least one of his Shamans had survived the seismic detonation from earlier. Perhaps the situation around the barricade had not been so tragic as it had appeared from the courtyard. He would need to regroup with the others. The other messages came just as swiftly, indicating that he was being sought by a few, that he was believed to have been slain in the same tragic detonation. He very nearly belayed these suspicions before thinking better of it: Perhaps his kindred would be invigorated to vengeance on his behalf, and he could always feign to have suffered damage to the mindstone...

A breath injected itself into his lungs, and he recognized the gradual warmth of it. It was not as if though the temperature had suddenly and inexplicably risen to such a dramatic point that it was not instantly warm, but it was certainly becoming warmer and warmer with every passing moment. The flicker of dawn cast its presence just beyond the courtyard wall, and the faint scent of Draemidus reminded him of his kindred's mutual home. Soon, the dome would be filled with the air of their homeworld... he doubted the feeble humans would be able to tolerate ingesting the air as well as the Draelvasier had tolerated the cold.

His finger itched upon the trigger of the Pulverizer, drawing back for the final sealing of the Jedi's fate.

And then - noise and pain. A searing bolt of compressed heat slammed into his shoulder, tearing through the Verikast plate there and driving burrowing through the meat of his left shoulder until it dissipated against the Verikast on the other side of his body. Instantly he reacted, the Pulveriser being directed wide, the trigger going off of its target and sending the miniature mortar-shell into the nearest courtyard wall. The wall exploded outward with tremendous force, completely annihilated by the weapon which was subsequently sent to the ground. Osam abandoned it, choosing instead to activate his personal shield.

An instant after it had begun to appear, the shield was stricken by a pair of other blaster bolts, these dissipating harmlessly against the energy, but managing to obliterate the shield in the process. The creature would need time to recover - if it could recover at all.

The blaster bolt itself had done little to burn Osam, but the sheer force with which the bolt had been propelled had been enough to tear through his armor and his flesh. It ached wretchedly, but it had been primarily a blow to muscle. He shifted his left arm, feeling as pain shot through it as the tendon rubbed against the muscles there, lactic acid doing little to stop the sweltering pain. Through grit teeth, the hybrid lifted himself up to face the newest offender, just in time for a set of hefty spheres to strike him in the abdomen.

These - at least- were almost fully reflected by the Verikast, but he still felt like he'd been punched in the ribs by the things. Had it managed to bruise one of them? Another shift and another wince of pain both from arm and gut brought him his answer.

Eyes lifted, he found the offender sprinting toward him, directly past the corpse and the Jedi Knight - directly to him.

A Mandalorian. A man of that warrior culture whose height must've brought him great praise among his people. He was bulky and thick, like a proper warrior, and Osam imagined that he must possess great stamina and vigor within him. Was this to be the avenger for the slain meal whose stinking corpse lay mere meters away? He imagined perhaps he had wounded their pride by slaying one of their own, or perhaps this was a deeper relationship, as a sire to their child. Regardless - he would send the children of Mandalore into the grave together where their only separation would be in the bellies of worms; the pieces he chose to leave behind, at least.

The champion's rifle was hurled to the floor mid-sprint, and Osam recognized the signs of an approaching melee. He would have it no other way.

The sudden burst from the boots of the Mandalorian caught the hybrid by surprise, but the added height meant he could only reasonably have a way targets. The Warlord twisted his arms together, raising them to catch the blow upon his vambraces and gauntlets. There was a good deal of weight behind the strike, especially with gravity on his enemy's side, but his defense held.

Vengeance was clarified in action when the Warlord proceeded to lash out at the Mandalorian, hurling his entire body at him in an attempted tackle, recognizing that allowing him to retain air superiority would be disastrous. He hoped his great weight and height would allow him to send the Mandalorian back to the ground, whether on his feet or his back - it did not matter.

Another shot of pain in his shoulder. Another ache in his ribs. Another life to fill his maw and stoke his self-worth.

 

[Cadere]

Location: Anvil
Equipment: Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | Mantellian Vambraces | FF-CAR1
Allies: Zephyr Krayt (Deceased) | Kranak Vizsla
Engaging: Osam

Cas hadn't moved since he pulled the trigger and felt the Mandalorian snuffed out within the Force. His eyes lingered on the stillness of Zephyr's body, eyes only moving once he noticed Sev Tok's sun had begun to rise outside of the red dome. Everything surrounding him was muffled, replaced only by the ringing in his ears, the Jedi Knight was none the wiser of his impending death. The warmth of the air caressed his face, he wondered that if this was due to the growing dawn... but, could its rays even shine through the dome? Cas was none the wiser to what was really going on, nor did he care.

Reeling from the shock of having to put Zephyr out of his misery was a battle in of itself, fighting through all the stages of grief so he could get back into the fight. To make sure Zephyr's death wasn't for nothing. In that moment, his drive to win this battle reached its peak, they had to win, it was the only way all these lives lost today would make sense to him. The Jedi's latent fingers curled into fists, clenching them in a vice like grip, he bared his gritted teeth.

T H U M P

Then, in an instant, everything came back: the thunderous explosions, tumultuous stray blaster bolts, and gravel grinding against the ground. Cas released a gasp and raised his head to see a Mandalorian... coming straight toward him. Sensing the disdain radiating off of him, he wondered if the Mandalorian was coming for him, then he soared straight passed the Jedi Knight. His eyes tracked the armored warrior, who charged at the Bryn who killed Zephyr like a raging reek.

Cas scanned the courtyard, Vinil was gone, reaching out he could still sense the Ranger's life force thankfully. Then he turned again, to look for the other Sylok'Vanari - he had disappeared... strangely enough. Good. The Jedi Knight's sorrow had tempered into white hot fury. Anger, rage, fury, it wasn't the Jedi way, he knew this, but he didn't care. The Bryn had destroyed and killed so many, robbed so many people of loved ones, Cas' anger was righteous and he would focus it on the monster that killed a good man today, a man who had so much still to live for, so much to still experience.

Grabbing his lightsaber that lay beside him, the Kiffar growled in frustration before rising to his feet. Spinning around, he turned to face the large Mandalorian facing off against the Bryn warrior, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. The snap hiss of his lightsaber cut through the white noise that was the battle, Cas' boots kicked off the ground as he broke into a run at an inhuman speed. Just as the Bryn'adul warrior had attempted to tackle the towering Mandalorian, Cas sprung into the air and launched his body in the two combatant's direction.

As he passed over the Bryn's shoulder Cas clenched the hilt of his lightsaber tightly with both hands. He struck toward the large monstrosity's shoulder in an overhead movement, using the momentum of his attack, Cas moved his body into a front flip before landing on the Bryn's opposite flank. The Kiffar would have had a witty one-liner, said some kind of joke to lighten the mood, but right now? All he wanted was to make the Bryn pay, make all of them suffer. The Dark side that submerged within the Jedi Knight, that loomed over his every choice, now threatened to surface.

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, City Center, 550 Meters Southwest of The Epitaph
Local Time: 22:29
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Recover Zephyr Krayt's Body and Armor
Secondary Objective: Defend the City of Anvil Alongside SJC Forces in the Area
Equipment: Loadout 2 (Carrying 1x Portable Clip Recharger in utility Field Butt Pack. Flame Projector swapped out with a CryoBan Projector.)
Friendlies: SJC | Cadere | Zephyr Krayt [KIA]
Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Osam

Spoiler: Music

The Mandalorian had managed to disorient the Bryn’adûl warrior long enough with a short volley of blue blaster bolts and the grenade launched from his blaster rifle’s underbarrel grenade launcher to close the distance to deliver a punch.

The strike didn’t hit Kranak’s intended target, however. The Bryn’adûl warrior had managed to block the Mandalorian’s blow in a timely manner; twisting his arms together and raising them up right before the giant’s fist was about to strike, shielding his face with his vambraces and gauntlets from the incoming blow.

If it wasn’t for his crushgaunts, Kranak would have probably broken every single bone on his right hand over the vambraces of the colossal Bryn’adûl warrior, coupled with the sheer force and power Kranak had put behind his strike at him.

After landing his blow on the towering monstrosity, the Mandalorian landed on his feet in a combat stance to the left of the alien warrior; his knees were bent slightly and planted firmly to the ground, forming a stable center of balance that would allow him to launch attacks swiftly while providing the ability to counter from any direction the attacker could take; his dominant hand tucked against his chin as it formed a fist and his free hand raised at the same level with that of his dominant hand.

The giant was going to follow up his attack with a number of body strikes where he assumed the Bryn’adûl warrior’s kidney would be with a number of hammerfists after blocking the Bryn’adûl warrior’s strikes. After that, he would follow up with a front knee strike to his midsection, try and bring the creature to his knees, and attempt to finish him off with a number of hooks directed at the creature’s vulnerable points.

But the Ori’ramikad would have to change what he had quickly planned, for the colossal warrior hurled himself at him with great speed, knocking him to the ground on his back with great force. He saw it coming but he was far too close and not fast enough to side step out of the way.

Kranak then heard the distinct snap and hiss of a lightsaber activating from his right as he was knocked down to the ground on his back. The sound came from next to the charred, lifeless body of the immolated vod. It was the Jetii that had prematurely ended the burning Mandalorian’s suffering. Kranak could hear the lightsaber -and its bearer- coming closer as it soared in the air above the colossal Bryn’adûl.

Keeping the momentum from the Bryn’adûl warrior’s hurl, the Mandalorian rolled backwards to get some distance from the creature before quickly deciding his next move, and just in time, too. The creature had stomped on the ground where he had landed on his back. That stomp would have pulverized the VT-Kinetic Impact Gel underneath his chestplate if he hadn’t rolled away in time.

His opponent was surely a worthy one. And would be one of the hardest he went up against in melee combat thus far. The creature was taller -and perhaps stronger- than a wookie. He had the height and weight advantage over the Ori’ramikad. It wasn’t something he was used to in melee. Usually, he was the one that towered over his opponents.

But the colossal warrior’s stature did not frighten nor discourage the Ori’ramikad from trying to best him in combat. After all, the bigger they were, the harder they fell.

The Ori’ramikad stood up and had assumed an offensive stance; Kranak would wait for an opportunity to strike at his colossal opponent while the Jetii fought him. If an opportunity would not present itself, he would try and make one himself.

The giant would attempt to strike his obvious points of vulnerability -such as the eyes, neck and groin- with a series of strikes, all the while keeping his head on a swivel to maintain his situational awareness; looking for additional targets or objects he could use to his advantage against the colossal warrior.

 

[Westenra Mina]

"Look around you, Soldier. That shield is still up, and those damned worms are devastating the battlefield, just like Nar Kreeta and just like Sarka." Melissa argued with Subject 73 Red . "The Bryn'adul have not ceased their advance. This may be the only shot we have of inflicting a large enough amount of casualties to convince even them to retreat. I can reactivate it myself. I have...means..." Melissa said, angling the blade.

The rumble of the terraforming creature only seemed to drive her point further. She felt the very air start to heat. Heard the Bryn'adul roar in defiance stampeding over groups of defenders.

"Times up. Your conditions for using this bomb, as far as I am concerned, have just been met."

She sprang forward at red, deflecting some of the blaster bolts that fired at her, while others managed to hit her with enough force to throw her backward, leaking glowing red blood everywhere.

But Melissa didn't seem to feel pain, and she didn't seem to die either, she readvanced on Red, striking not to kill, but to disable, slashing at his legs even as her blade deflected shots to her head.

She would take that bomb from him one way or another. These beasts had shown only the harshest attacks would work.

Meanwhile...


Maple continued shooting at the Bryn'adul stragglers while Starlin Rand concentrated, kept the sand portal alive as long as possible. Maple also took note of his spell words and their effects, her innate understanding of magic giving her insight in trying something similar down the road...

The previous magical gap she had created was losing strength, now only three tanks wide, each shield pearl giving out slowly but surely.

More were still pouring through. The death toll could only be gargantuan inside.

Gerard walked up to her.

"Golden Eye, We are almost at capacity for the cruiser."

"Fill it right to the brim. To the brim!" Maple ordered, hurling a fallen lamp post into a patrol of Ultras with Telekinesis as she and the Model 1's protected Starlin.

Finally, his will gave out and the portals failed. Jaina the Android soon came to collect him and bring him aboard.

The Model 1's, as a precaution, did not return the Lightsabers to the Jedi that had started giving their whole departure funny looks. They were surrounded by a combination of wounded Militia ready to shoot them if they tried anything to delay the vessels departure. It was clear from the looks on their faces they didn't understand how the people they had been defending had turned on them so easily.

"You!" She called out to the Android as she carried Starlin away.

"This will likely mean nothing to him coming from me...but he should be proud of the lives he saved today...by setting aside petty grudges." Maple said tersely. "You, him, and the other Jedi will be allowed to leave CIS territory once the evac is over...but don't start any chit once we're aboard."

Gerard waved her down.

"I'm sure you've noticed the strangeness of the enemy strategy."

"I have." Maple admitted.

"I'm starting to suspect they played us. Everyone is focused on assaulting that ship...if I wanted to initiate an ambush on everyone, I would not wait to much longer. Sun's rising, they've kept everyone occupied for hours...they seem to have gotten a second wind even. We need to lift off now, and burn lines into hyperspace as soon as possible."

"Laertia!" Maple called out over comlink, feeling odd at calling Darth Xiphos that name since she wasn't truly her old comrade any longer, but someone...

...someone who meant well, wearing her face.

"I dunno if you can hear this but your son's suspect Bryn'adul reinforcements may be imminent. There are too many things they find odd about this attack. We are pulling the Evac Cruiser out!" Maple said, feeling the ground quake, rumble and shift slightly.

"Maple! THE BREACH!" a Model 1 called out as the last of the shield pearls failed and the breach closed. They had managed to get hundreds, maybe a few thousand out. And they didn't have nearly enough room left on the Cruiser, which was approaching maximum capacity, along with the evac shuttles. One of her sons had flown in the Shadow Bride.

"Everyone, the Cruiser is AT CAPACITY!" Gerard shouted. "We can't take any more aboard and still be able to lift off! Please file into the shuttles we have left.

There wouldn't be nearly enough for those left either, so emphasis was placed on women, children, and the wounded. People began to panic as they realized not all of them would be able to leave. Those of fighting age were approached by the scouts to ask for volunteers. Those that accepted were given Bio-Blasters and make shift armor from scavenged Verikast and told to head back in.

Maple boarded the Shadow Bride. The state of the art warship's cockpit flickered with the red glow of its operation displays. It sorta reminded her of the cockpit of a TIE Silencer, albeit larger.

"Maple!" Gerard called out, entering the ship, bringing her a photo. "Mother said you would know what to do with this."

Maple stared at it. Xiphos had created an image of the power enhancing runes she had used to teleport an artillery bombardment through the barrier earlier.

"Clever girl." Maple said, mournful that she could not say that of the real Laertia, only Xiphos.

She missed the woman she had not been there for, too busy with her own demons over the Amalgam. But what could she have done? Laertia had followed her cause right over a cliff. And Maple had followed, understanding how serious the situation had become.

"We got any of those Shield Pearls left?"

"Only two we can spare, the rest go for research..." Gerard answered, having one in a small stasis chamber brought aboard.

Maple hastily wrote the runes in her own blood, a mini version of the ritual used to make the breach in their shields earlier, placing it carefully in a small set of runes in the main hold.

"What about the Jedi?" Gerard asked.

"Hand them back their Lightsabers... AFTER the cruiser lifts off." Maple advised. "Not before."

Gerard nodded. He left the ship, going over to the captive Jedi as the Cruiser lifted.

"I don't understand..." One of the Jedi sputtered in outrage and disbelief at the wounded Militia holding them at Bay. "How could these murderous, sadistic automatons turn you all against us?"

"You have done that yourselves." A wounded Militia man barked back as the Cruiser lifted off.

"We tried to protect you!" another Jedi protested. "You'll be court martialed for this."

"If I survive, I don't give a flying feth." One called back.

Gerard signalled for the Militia to stand down. They all stood down.

"Hand them back their Lightsabers..." Gerard instructed.

The Militia tossed them at their feet.

"You can either split hairs about who is going where and who deserves what, or you can be useful and go die in that dome..." Gerard said dismissively.

"You don't give us orders, Machine!" Another Jedi snapped, clutching at his blade.

"Like you'd be smart enough to follow any orders I gave. I'm simply laying out your options. You can always feth off and escape in an evac shuttle." Gerard replied scathingly to the people his mother had lost almost all respect for. "No wonder Mom doesn't like you Jedi Dogs. Always putting your principles before cold hard reality."

The group of Jedi stood there, all clearly humiliated as they watched the Cruiser lift off without being able to do anything about it.

One looked into Gerard's photoreceptors, the Force allowing him to calm himself.

"Your master will pay for her crimes against the Jedi Order, someday."

"She's killed a whole lot more than Jedi, you noob. Get in line. She'll call you when your ticket number comes up in the database. Would you like something to read while you wait in the lounge?" Gerard asked, words dripping with the fine art of trolling.

The Jedi stood there for a long moment, their paths at war with circumstances before they began silently walking towards the dome. Gerard turned to the Shadow Bride, giving a thumbs up.

She hopped into the Pilot's seat, activating the ship for take off. She had to give the evac cruiser some sort of cover.

As the Cruiser took off, it started to attract unwelcome attention. A swarm of Phedrak fighters came bearing in on it. She took off into the sky, gunning it's heavy duty engines. Taking off after them so they could not do damage to the Cruiser.

There were over a dozen, and Maple began taking hits from them immediately. The Shadow Bride shook and rattled, and she returned fire with just the lasers, realizing it was more like a cross between a Silencer and a TIE Bomber, and that the fighters were very fast, but they had limited ability to maneuver, for all their high speed pursuit, exhibiting swarm tactics as they tried to harass her and the cruiser. And for a time it worked...the Shadow Bride was fearsome, but not as fast as a dedicated starfighter.

But her weapons were top notch, accurate, and deadly. When she understood that the point of the Shadow Bride was to cut loose, she did so, and began to shred the harassing Phedrak's with heavy laser cannons, soon shredding through three with a complete barrage. The Force warned of Danger and she yanked the controls to corkscrew out of the way of a barrage of fire, bringing all heavy lasers to bare against her attackers.

With controlled, precise bursts, she shot down all four.

007 left.

Maple brought the wrath of The Shadow Bride to bear on the ones targeting the Cruisers engines, driving them back and pursuing, the heavy cannons blasting two apart rapidly. Five left. They bore down on her, pelting her shields.

A concentrated burst from all her heavy lasers killed another 3, and the two began zipping around at high speeds, blasting at her

Maple twisted the ship around, her heavy lasers, mounted on turrets, auto targeting them firing non stop. They were eventually destroyed.

"No wonder Xiphos likes this ship. It's a damn killing machine just like she is. Just...just like I am..." Maple noted hesitantly. As she resumed following the Cruiser on its evac route to CIS space.

She watched it go past friendly lines, not letting the tension in her neck cease until she saw it go into hyper space.

"Okay..." Maple breathed. "That should make up for that Jedi at Korriban..."

The Bounty-Hunter dived back down, to escort more evac shuttles to orbit...

Meanwhile...

Tathra Khaeus seemed to survive the chainguns but was heavily wounded.

The Black Knight had little opportunity to relish the Bastard's injuries, as an Ultra, desperate to save Tathra and help him, violently tackled Xiphos, trying to pummel her to death in a seeming psychotic rage. Only her enhanced strength and endurance prevented his blow to her stomach from liquefaction of her internal organs as he clawed at her, damaging her helmet and cracking one of her ribs, the armor taking a good portion of the kinetic impact she half turned aside as the Ultra roared his defiance to her face while Tathra bailed Galak from certain death.

"YOU WILL NOT HARM HIM, YOU FILTHY, INFERIOR WRETCH!" The Ultra screamed, enraged at the loss of dozens of his brothers at her hands. As he tried to bring his fist down to turn her skull to pulp, she caught it, breaking his wrist, than ripping his arm clean off and smashing it into him, stunning him badly and shattering his jaw.

The Black Knight stood up, enraged herself as Tathra brought his axe to guard, slick with blood.

She let him see the one who had so valiantly threw himself at her.

She let him watch as she punched right through the Ultra's skull...and then violently hurled the corpse right at him at high speed, accelerating the body of his dead defender with Telekinesis right at his legs, hoping Beltran Rarr or Thirdas could take advantage...

 

[Quoron Ver'dum]

Phase Three
Location: Epitaph upper levels
Allies: Krarolk T'manu | Sylok'Vanari
Enemies: Aien Mueller | Dagon Kaze | Yula Perl
Armour | Shield | Ravager Marksmen Rifle | Mangler Submachine Gun | Syphon Beam Rifle |
Forces: 12 Vandals

The interior lights of the Epitaph flickered as their core was frozen shut. The hivemind instantly switched the power structure to rely on the Kraemonen and the Errindak, the power core itself had been more of a fall-back option, primarily utilised for the Epitaph's secondary and tertiary thrusters. If they wanted to leave Sev Tok, they'd have to defend both in the mean time. The infiltrating soldiers below would find their traversal upward putting them face to face with enemy combatants. No, the Bryn'adûl were not just chasing them, they were all around them. Getting up to the higher sections of the Epitaph would require entrance into the infantry deployment bays, fifty levels of guarded platforms with a force of a thousand drones and a small grouping of Vandals waiting for the approximated entry of the infiltration team. The freezing of the core had established them as a threat, and now every defender on the ship had a live reading of were they were, exactly. The sun had risen, and with it the arrival of the barricas. The battle they had set out to fight had been fought, and now survival was all the warriors of the Bryn could think of until reinforcements arrived from outside the system. They just had to hold out a little while longer, that meant making sure the Epitaph stayed operational. Wherever they'd rear their heads, the defenders of the Epitaph would converge.

High above, close to the bridge of the Epitaph; the Vaydralen vandals had the Jedi cornered. Molten bullets darted through the air as twin blades redirected what they could, molten plasma and metal staining the ship interior as the entire corridor vanished into darkness as Zealots moved into the vicinity of the battle, the sliding doorways closing behind them. Quoron knew in his heart, he had to stop the Jedi. The Epitaph had to survive, to endure. The hivemind itself was prepared to defend itself against the Jedi, but something else - something dark protected it.

The corridor's sole illumination was that of the twin saber's held by the female jedi, and the ripples of light exploding from the weapons carried by the Vandals as they moved to subvert the defence of the Jedi. The beams of his syphon were redirected into the chest of one of his own, carving a whole through the Vandal minor as he collapsed on the ground, dead. The scream of the female indicated her position as one of the blades fell from her grasp, no doubt struck by one the many Vandals encircling them. The syphon was getting him nowhere, time to switch it up. Quoron switched to his Ravager rifle as strange red illuminated tendrils attached everything in sight - only to be immediately rebuked by a force wave before it even reached him.

The Vandals were thrown around the corridors like rag dolls as the powerful force wave echoed out from the Jedi. Quoron felt the back of his armour striking against the metal interior. Without shielding, the pain surged through his body as he dropped to the ground - vision blurred as blood dripped from under his helmet. Three of the eight Vandals he'd taken with him were unconscious, two dead and the remaining three were turning to their feet. Quoron tore his helmet off, pulling the marskmen rifle from the floor as he fired a direct shot for the female Jedi's gut.

 

[Aien Mueller]

You know those types you don't want to meet in a dark alley?​

Spoiler: LOADOUT(unless missions specific):

Armor - "Apostle" armor(all),
Weapons (assault team)- T-73 Handgun, Combat Knife, FTB Rocket(2 FYB Rockets each, 3 with Flame Carpet warhead)
3 Grenades (each), 2 Fire Grenadess (each)
(Infiltrators)- Carbine(Suppressed), T-73 Handgun(Suppressed), Vibroswords, Combat Knife
(Snipers)- M-14 Sniper Rifle, Wrist Blaster, Carbine
(Assault)- RI-17 Assault Rifle-w-LPD53 Grenade Launcher(5 FYB 40mm grenades each), T-73 Handgun
(Heavy Weapons)- Minigun(if in the field), Defender-Automatic Weapon(if in CQC) Assault Rifle

Spoiler: FIRE TEAMS

GOLD TEAM: Azrael(Assault/Team leader), Castiel(Asault/Pathfinder)
BLUE TEAM: Sauriel(Sniper 1), Samael(Heavy Weapons), Michael(Sniper 2)
RED TEAM: Gabriel(Demo/EOD), Bartleby(Tech/Team Second)
GREEN TEAM: Chamuel (Infiltrator/Slicer), Zadkiel(Infiltrator/Assassin), Raziel(Infiltrator/Assassin)

Spoiler: TRANSPORT TEAM

PEGASUS 1, HAAT 1- Jeremiel(Pilot), Barachiel(Weapons)
PEGASUS 2, HAAT 2- Ariel(Pilot), Uriel(Weapons)
PEGASUS 3, HAAT 3(Carry-all variant)- Barachiel(Pilot)*
HAAT 4(Carry-all variant)- Uriel(Pilot)*
*When needed. Weapons Intercept officers will be assigned randomly

Spoiler: GROUND ASSAULT/INFIL/EXFIL

FIST
RONTO 1- Raguel(Driver), Selaphiel(Gunner), Jegudiel(Cover)

Spoiler: ANNUNAKI

Ship Captain/Teams Overwatch - Metotron
Ship Engineer/Tech/Teams Overwatch - Jophiel
Ship Corpsman - Raphael
Ship Pilot(s)/Gunner(s) - Chamuel, Jeremiel, Barachiel, Ariel, Uriel

ORDERS:
Tag: Quoron Ver'dum Osam Tathra Khaeus Gir Quee Thirdas Heavenshield Beltran Rarr Kranak Vizsla Cadere Liedran Kathause Mig Gred Aurelian Sigismund Rurik Fel Yula Perl

Quit poking me with your gun...

Quit sticking your exhaust port in my viewport, moof milker.

Quiet, both of you.

Contact, six. Got’em.

Contact, below. Got’em.

They were indeed being slowed down by all of the drones that were being sent. They had a head start and momentum but knew that they were losing it with all of the open fighting and rerouting that they were doing. Omega Squad were all elite soldiers or “23ers” but the numbers game almost always trumps skill in this case, and the “almost” clarifier is an infinitesimally small percentage.

Aw nuts.

Let me guess. That engine core I blew up was not the real power core?

Thank you, ‘Captain Obvious!’ Contact right! Got’em.

Reloading!

Oh, it was real. Just not the only one. Those worms we … what the?

What now?

Reading a massive heat signature coming from the front of this ship. I mean… big.

Gabriel…

Boom baby!

While the rest of the team laid suppressive fire, Gabriel set two charges, one was a simple breaching charge to get them an exit to a level that could traverse. The other was to cover their exit. One by one the team moved through the new opening and set up cover positions as Azrael was the last one through. Pressing the detonator button, Gabriel set off the incendiary charge, the explosive burned not only brightly, but intensely, keeping the drones back and their exit clear.

Conserving ammo was key as while the “hallway” appeared to be clear, that could change in an instant, so while everyone slung their rifles, they pulled out their pistols and knives. Headshots and gutting cuts “ruled the day” as they moved from one end of the ship to another. Ironically, while they were still slowed by this, it was not as much as they were expecting.

Then Samael picked up one of the fallen drone’s carbines and looked it over. It was when he aimed and pulled the trigger that… well it bruised his shoulder, even with the armor but it was still able to get some rounds off.

Haha! This thing is awesome!

Then he went about searching the body for more magazines as Castiel and Samael each grabbed weapons from the other two. The best way to conserve ammo? Use the enemies if you can. The weapons proved just how strong these Bryn were, in physical strength alone, but they seemed easy enough to use.

Up to the next level.

They had been slowed by several more, and not only still being chased, but could hear more coming from multiple directions when they had gotten to the next level only to see a part of the ship’s hull ripped off. Azrael and Bartleby could see the battlefield from where they stood. Such unnecessary destruction.

Uh… Boss?

Sitrep.

That heat signature I picked up?

Yeah?

It’s coming from that!

The team tech pointed directly at the Terraformer that was destroying the very landscape of the inner city of Anvil.

Not for long. You still in contact with the HAATs?

Yeah, 1 and 2 are still flying, though 2 is having some lateral control issues.

Grabbing the comm-link, he called up their frequency.

Jeremiel, Ariel, this is Azrael, come in.

HAAT1…

Go for 2, Boss.

Coming in on your signal.

We’ll cover.

Quickly the two gunships were at the opening to the Epitaph. They were taking fire, but the beam turrets in 1 and the full weapons complement of 2 provided cover. In fact, it was the starboard beam turret that covered the hallway while the team exfilled onto their new ride. The last missile of HAAT2 turned the hallway into a fireball.

Hug the ceiling. Get us over that Bug.

Which Bug’?

The big one!

Whichone is ‘The big one’?

THE BIG ONE!


As the gunships gained some altitude, they were indeed scraping the dome when those with FYB rockets left each sat out on one side of the gunship and loaded their launchers. As the others grabbed what supplies were available, more 40mm grenades and power cells mostly, and the altitude dropped slowly, the four, Sauriel, Castiel, Samael, and Michael all fired their carbonite rockets down on top of the Terraformer. One of the Tendrils swung upward nearly hitting 1, but hitting 2.

Mayday. Hit in the tail… losing… losing pressure… damn thing…

Hang on Uriel! Comin’t getcha!

FIDO!* (Forget It Drive On)

Uriel was a great pilot and was actually better at flying these than Jeremiel, it wasn’t easy and took a lot out of her, but somehow she managed to crash not far from Admiral Quee’s command post. She and her crew would be okay. Of course, Jeremiel didn’t know that right now.

Dammit! Son of a...

LIEUTENANT!

THAT THING KILLED HER! KILLED ALL OF’EM!

Cowboy the Krik up, Dammit! What would she do if she were in your position?

... she’d do her job…

You wanna make’em pay! Get us back on top of that ship!

”Top”?

Gabriel! How much explosive you have left?

Two breachers and enough for a big’un.

Top… unless there’s a WMD out there.

... you’re good… a Brassmine’s got it.

As the gunship hovered over the top of the ship, the “other big Bug”, the Dreddikast let out a huge scream that worked like some kind of EMP and shut down all of the systems of the gunship. The vessel slammed into the dorsal side of the much larger ship and began to slide off of the side of it. No matter what he did, Jeremiel could not get it running again, so it was time to “abandon”. So he, and Barachiel each grabbed their carbines and jumped. Gabriel looked up as they did.

This Breacher isn’t gonna work out here.

What do you mean?

There’s a reason this ship tore through a Deshet… even with the carrier damage… and come out almost unscathed… the armor on this thing…

See? Easy...

Gabriel’s crazy, but he’s no dummy when it comes to this. We need to find another way in.

Let’s get to work.

It was all or nothing now, the team looked for a section of the ship that was torn open when she barreled through “The Midnight Darkest.” they had a lot of fighting to do, and no longer had a head start. Then again, this was just another "day at the office", behind the proverbial 8 ball and all of your colors still on the table.

... yeah, we scare them.

[/SPOILER][/SPOILER]

 

[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 (6) Juggernaut Support

• 3 Juggernaut Minors
• 1 Juggernaut Grenadier
• 1 Juggernaut Heavy
• 0 Juggernaut Major
• 1 Quilxyn Protector

Squad C (2) Beast Support

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

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

Enemies: Cadere | Kranak Vizsla

---

The nature of melee combat always made it pass by so much faster than it felt. Osam felt as if though several seconds passed between each movement, as if though every muscle was contracted and released in alignment with some special plan. The truth could not be further from this faux reality - that there was no plan whatsoever, and that every action and reaction came down to little more than biological impulses and flash-training from his youth.

The weight of the Mandalorian's fist against him and his subsequent reaction helped to confirm that. If he had thought through the assault, he might've tried to react in a more advantageous way. He might've utilized his claws to tear into the armorweave hidden beneath his opponent's armor, perhaps going for underneath of his armpits where he believed the beskar might've given way to more flexible material. Otherwise, he could've attempted to go for his kukri to maximize his own damage output, or for the remaining toxin grenade upon his body - setting ablaze another Mandalorian would've brought joy and more meat upon which to feast.

Instead, he reacted violently, the way he had been trained, and the way that was most predictable for a fierce beast like himself. At least his maneuver was successful in hurtling the Mandalorian to the ground. He prepared himself to follow-up on the charge when the snap-hiss of a lightsaber drew him out of his instinctive movement. Every time the weapon moved and twisted and its wicked hum could be heard, he had to pause, had to analyze where it was coming from, and what he could do to avoid it. Why was it that he cared so greatly for the wounds that had been inflicted by it? Had he not been shot with blasters and slugthrowers and nearly died to poison?

You've never suffered so much to any other tool his conscience told him, whispering warnings and advocating caution in the fight against the Knight. His eyes twisted around to face the foe, even as his foot came down in an attempt at stamping onto the Mandalorian. A blur caught his attention, but - it was already in the air, and above him?

Searing and agonizing pain triggered along his already wounded shoulder as the lightsaber pierced through whatever Verikast had remained, severing it away from the rest of his body and sending the Draelvasier metals clattering to the ground in a heap. The blade, at least, had not dug fully through the limb, but it had managed to cut over the portion where he had already suffered damage. This time, though, was far more severe. The tendon had been partially severed, and though he could still move the limb with some difficulty, it was excruciating. His left arm was effectively out of commission except for emergencies.

The Warlord reached for the Verikast armor, now hanging limply over his stomach - the leather straps which bound it had been severed on one side, and now it was simply in the way. He rent it off of his body, clutching it between his fingers as he held the chest-piece like a disc. Had Verikast been much heavier, or had he been a weaker being, he might've struggled to utilize the armor chunk, but he was Risen-Sraelvun, a member of the proud Draelvasier race, and someone who had struggled to his position through a lifetime of conflict. Something as menial as weight and being confined to a single hand would not stop him.

The Mandalorian giant had recovered, and now sent a flurry of blows toward him. The hybrid was pained but able to block at least a few of these strikes - deflecting them by means of the chest-piece he now swung about like a shield, or on his gauntlets. Not every hit could be stopped, though. A particularly harsh shot struck him just under the neck; Osam was not used to being hit in the head in such a melee, especially by an opponent so much smaller than he was, and a gasp of air burst free from him. Sore and bruised, but unbroken, he retaliated in kind, lifting the new shield up and slamming it downward with force at the top of his foe's head, aiming to rattle their skull or break some teeth with the force of the Verikast plate.

Whether he'd delivered his immense blow or not, he would promptly spin on a heel and hurl the lethal disc toward the Jedi, hoping that the energy-resistant nature of the armor chunk would keep the Knight was simply cutting it in twain. Hand freed from the object, he went for the Zealot's Kukri at his hip, drawing it forth, and following up on his attack on the Knight, blade sliding through the air in careful slashes aimed at bleeding his foe instead of going directly for the kill - he'd need to wear the Knight down, and now... with the air of Draemidus Prime and the heat of the sun in the sky, he had the ability to fight a war of attrition.

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

✠ High Imperator of the Rim-Guard Order ✠

✠ Objective: I. Defend Anvil
✠ Location: Sev Tok, Anvil
✠ Gear: Armour (shattered at some parts), Lightsaber pike, Combat-Shield (broken, lost), DC-17 (out of ammo and thrown away), Gladius (in someones ribcage), Holotransmitter
✠ Assets: The Phalanx, Rim-Guard Cadres, Skytroopers, Dreadnought Wardroids
✠ Tag(s): ​

Enemies: open​

Allies: Jairdain , open​

⮚ THEME​

Through the times of war and peace Aiglos had heard many theories, studies and research about combat. There were professors who wrote hundreds of pages about tactics, strategy and warfare, without ever setting a foot on a battlefield. There were veterans who returned from a hundred battles and couldn't remember entire phases of their life. There were recruits which died because the gods of luck were looking away and fools who survived a firestorm not even tanks could withstand. War is nothing you can put in words, which you can look at and put into categories, a battlefield is not a board of dejarik, its an organic mass driven by adrenaline, muscles, sweat, blood and not even a single bit of thinking. All those grand strategists brooding over maps and unit compositions are nothing but fools trying to contain a force of nature.

The last minutes felt like several life times. Combat time. The adrenaline had taken over, nothing but muscle memory and instinct remained, even the Force was just a nuance at the edge of perception. Everything had slowed down, every movement was in slow motion but there were no thoughts, it was more like watching your limbs doing their thingy while your mind was walked through wet sand. Combat time. It was a term Aiglos discovered during his earliest fighting, the time bubble you were getting into when your body was put under natural drugs, trying nothing but survive and live, usually if not always a phenomenon during the most intense of fightings. During the last minutes all of his brothers experienced this, combat time was upon them.

✠ ✠ ✠​

After Ecthelion had stormed into the melee alongside his brethren, only a few minutes passed, but the name of the street, the day and time would be memorised by decorating a banner with it. The first seconds were dominated by the slaying of dozens of the small brutes, Nelvaanian longswords and lightsaber pikes slashing, striking and stabbing, blue bolts of blaster fired on point blank range, it was intense, but it was intense slaying. But the situation changed when the Bryn'adul's strongest appeared, Juggernaught and Ultras, physically near even or slightly better than the Paladins. The fighting turned from a slaughter to full grown fight for survival. Both sides were sweeping for and backwards, bodies kept afloat by the simple pressure of the clashing hosts of warriors. There were no formations, no units anymore just the man next to you and the enemy in front of you.

Aiglos ancient blade was cutting through limbs, even only scratching some of the thick organic plates from time to time. He was at the very front, in the thickest of the fighting, holding his blaster in one hand and the lightsaber in the other. He was parrying an incoming blade, ramming his blaster into the guts of a monster and pressing the trigger, but there was no time to cheer the hole it stamped into the body of the screaming foe as another one was coming already. The blue blade sliced its throat open while a kick definitely broke something in the torso, also sending Ecthelion into the next group of beasts. A first hit at his shoulder plate was giving him some pain, but the blaster silenced the paingiver with a series of fast triggered shots. The second and third aimed their weapons at him, unleashing their deadly projectiles onto him. They would pierce his armour plates, rip through the skin and tear apart his organs. But they stopped. A few centimeters in front of his cuirass they stopped, preventing from travelling on by an invisible barrier which disappeared as soon as it had appeared, as the Exarch moved against his adversaries. The pistol was clicking empty and he threw it away, drawing his gladius and fighting with a blade in each hand, a rock in the tide of enemies, more and more of them appearing from the alleys and main street.

Aiglos' shieldbearer had suffered more wounds than before in his life, trying to be always behind his leader, holding the banner of the Order high. He was a deputy as much as a bodyguard and for the latter duty, he was bleeding. He knew that at least several of his ribs were broken, his leg was flooded with occasional spikes of pain because of a hit from a ranged weapon, but he was keeping up. Barely though, to keep connection to the High Imperator was as trying to keep up with a tornado, he was devastating, it was intimidating.

From above view the fight would be much less intensive or special, a mass of moving monsters and golden figures, a loose frontline visible, the occasional lights of a blaster or the lightsabers which could be seen outside flesh, armour and bones. The street was filling up with corpses, with their limbs, shattered bones, blood, fire, mud and worse was ankle high on the ferrocrete. The smell of dead and battle was overwhelming even to the militia two hundred meters away, who were just observing, silently observing a violence they had not experienced before.

​

Spoiler

Action Overview:

• Rim-Guard assaults the flank of the Epitaph, closing up to 100 meters to the actual crater​
• Skytroopers deploying on all elevated positions in the dome and around the actual battle, offering fire support against ground and air targets​
• Three Wardroids move to act as anti-air support​
• Three Wardorids move to get onto the highway​
• Militia holds the line behind the advancing paladins​

Forces Overview

• Rim-Guard Order: 610 Paladins (First Generation)​
• Skytroopers: ~ 6.000 Skytroopers​
• Dreadnought Wardroids: 3 x 3 wardroids​
• Local Militia: ~ 1.700 militiamen​

 

[Cadere]

Location: Anvil
Equipment: Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | Mantellian Vambraces | FF-CAR1
Allies: Zephyr Krayt (Deceased) | Kranak Vizsla
Engaging: Osam

Rage and hate festered and boiled within the scarred Jedi Knight. Images of Zephyr's burned and charred face flashed in his mind like a broken light, only intensifying the negative emotions he felt, nourishing the Dark side of the Force. He swivelled to face the Bryn he had struck, searching for any sign of damage inflicted upon the sadistic warrior. It was in pain, the Kiffar felt the reverberations of searing pain through the Force. Good. Taking a moment to revel in the pain the Bryn monstrosity felt, a callous, gratified smirk crept on the corner of the Jedi's lit. It wasn't even a fraction of the pain the monster had endowed on Zephyr. However, Cas ensured that he would feel the same amount of pain.

Following the flurry of strikes his new Mandalorian ally had sent the Bryn's way, Cas' grip tightened around his lightsaber as he prepared to deliver another strike. Only, he would release a gasp when he witnessed the Bryn warrior raise a plate of his armor over his head. Cas had overshot and landed a few short metres away from the two combatants, quickly, Cas tried to rush toward the two to intercept the attack.

He was too late, caught off guard by the Bryn launching its armor plate at the Jedi Knight. He skidded to a halt and raised his lightsaber overhead before swinging it earthward, the amber plasmatic blade slammed the energy resistant material onto the ground. Barely given enough time to react, Cas once again raised his saber to block the Kukri being slashed at him by the physically imposing Bryn warrior.

The surrounding area's temperature rose in tangent with Cas' anger. Following another attack, the athletic Kiffar evaded by jumping backward onto his right hand, then springing himself from the floor and into a backflip landing on his feet. Cas knew the increased movement from avoiding attacks would increase his body heat, he knew he and the Mandalorian would need to end this fight sooner rather than later.

Refusing to allow himself to remain on the defence any longer, Cas' feet planted firmly into the ground, winding his lightsaber back, he swung it horizontally from his right to left, meeting the Bryn's kukri with his lightsaber. Continuing to wield his lightsaber with his cybernetic arm, Cas removed his right arm from gripping its hilt and directed the palm of his hand at the Bryn, fingers curling into a claw. The Dark side of the Force's non-corporeal fingers intended to wrap around the Bryn's throat "Now you'll know how he felt." Cas whispered, fierce hatred seething behind his voice.

 

[Seer Kalanthir]

STANDOFF​

Phase Three
Location: Leaving the Epitaph
Allies: Gordrak | Galak | Osam | Hrajlmak'Natok | Quoron Ver'dum | Sethrak | Ostak Cl'mana | Krarolk T'manu | Sylok'Vanari | Aryshda | Tathra Khaeus | Udomek Seker |
Enemies: | SJC/Allies

It pained the Seer in his heart to feel the loss of the Warlock, he felt it through the force. For the briefest of moments, connected via both his battle meditation and the mind stone as the Warlock gave his very last. He had seen the sunrise, the earth baked in light as life rose from the well of blood and flesh. Life rose in the form of the barricas terraformer, spreading its seed throughout the dome as red sky now mirrored the ground, where once black vapour flooded the throats of man now rose the red skies of Draemidus from the roots of the beast of green root. The tendrils of the terraformer were fired upon by the neutralisers and war droids of the Rim-Guard.

But it mattered not how they wounded the barricas, its skin was forged embroiled in the chaos of so much death, alchemised and hardened even as they tore apart the outer bindings of its roots and tendrils. The Barricas roared again, red vapour gushing from every pore as its roots continued to spread outward, reaching as far as it could throughout the dome. The Seer steadied himself against its torso, the reverberations of the rocket fire tearing apart its larger tendrils as it swiped their gunships out of the sky as others evaded the massive intertwined tendrils of green mass. Kalanthir pushed his battle meditation to the edge, reaching out to the Warriors of the Bryn'adûl through the mind stones.

He felt the vigour of their warriors, the sheer determination of the Titan himself and shared it with their warriors. Each would know the feelings of the Titan, his unrelenting drive to push forward. The vengeance of Osam, his rage and wish to avenge the loss of Keldothera. That rage, that focus to destroy their enemies rippling through the beasts and warriors of the Bryn'adûl. They would feel that drive to avenge every fallen brother and sister at their side. Galak's courage, his love of unity shared among them as each were reminded the key to victory were all these things. Unity generated strength, and thusly the Bryn'adûl remained as such. Even without eyes, Kalanthir could feel it in the air. The earth rumbled as the power of the Primarch and Ostak permeated through the force. The hollow ground shattering like glass beneath their sworn enemy. The battle of attrition had been costly, but now it neared its conclusion. Deep within Bryn'adûl space their fleets mustered to wipe the Concord's control clean of multiple systems.

On the ground below, the enemy continued to move in on the Epitaph. The Rim-Guard and the Concord marines fighting its immediate defenders as the Bryn'adûl fought to survive. The barricas used the Epitaph to steady itself as carbonite rockets crashed down on the terraformer from above, the majority of which coated one of its many massive tendrils. The creature shrieked in pain as it swiped one of the HAAT's out of the sky as the very air around its arm was frozen and carbonised as slowly its own limb solidified. With a thought, Kalanthir ordered the terraformer to remove its own limb. There was hesitance, a fear of pain - but it had to push through before the carbonite could spread further. The terraformer raised its tendril, wrapping it round the edge of the carbonated limb before tearing it off.

The massive green root came into hundreds of crystalized pieces as the limb was torn from the body. The terraformer shrieked, but it had limbs to spare.

Hellfire comes for them all. Do not relent until their shields are smashed, their weakness is rebuked. Our fleets make headway for Shador, Lexrul and Ruusan. These systems will be ours, and the Concord and its blind allies will know their folly!

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, City Center, 550 Meters Southwest of The Epitaph
Local Time: 22:29
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Recover Zephyr Krayt's Body and Armor
Secondary Objective: Defend the City of Anvil Alongside SJC Forces in the Area
Equipment: Loadout 2 (Carrying 1x Portable Clip Recharger in utility Field Butt Pack. Flame Projector swapped out with a CryoBan Projector.)
Friendlies: SJC | Cadere | Zephyr Krayt [KIA]
Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Osam

The Ori’ramikad was waiting for the right moment to strike. When he had rolled away and quickly recovered from the colossal foe’s hurl, the Jetii had engaged him at earnest. The Jetii dealt his blow on the towering opponent’s right shoulder. The lightsaber struck the warrior with a distinct, muffled crack; the sound was accompanied with the Bryn’adûl warrior’s shriek as the saber slashed into his flesh.

The saber blow from the Jetii must have clipped the right shoulder strap of the colossal warrior’s chestplate. The chestplate lazily hung over the creature’s chest, hung by the strap over his left shoulder.

Now was the time to strike. The creature was struck with a lightsaber over his right shoulder, and the warrior’s chest was somewhat bare. The gravel and rubble beneath the Mandalorian’s feet crunched and crumbled as he charged at the massive warrior; his black Kama, flailing in harmony with his movements. With considerable ferocity, the Ori’ramikad launched his previously planned attacks against the warrior, attempting to strike the Bryn’adûl warrior’s obvious weak points to try and wear him down and attempt to get the advantage over him.

Seeing the Mandalorian’s move, the creature responded with ripping off the chestpiece dangling on his chest to Kranak’s assault, using it as a shield to block the Ori’ramikad’s relentless strikes.

Once again the Mandalorian’s strikes crashed against the hard plating of the creature’s vambraces and the chestpiece the warrior used as a means of defense against the Ori’ramikad. However, feinting his punches a couple of times had created enough room to land a number of blows at Osam .

The colossal warrior animalistically groaned and grunted in pain each time the creature’s defense was thwarted with the Ori’ramikad’s feints. Following a hammer fist strike on the warrior’s wounded right shoulder to create himself an opening for another attack, the Ori’ramikad swiftly transitioned the strike into an outside chop directed at the warrior’s neck.

His right hand moved to where his left ear would be, as his palm faced downwards. Not a moment later the Mandalorian commenced his strike; his back foot hips and upper body pivoted in unison with his right hand as he swung at the base of the warrior’s neck. The strike landed with a meaty thud, accompanied with the pained grunting from Osam .

He surely had kicked up the hornet’s nest this time. Most certainly agitated, the colossal warrior retaliated at the Mandalorian by swinging the large piece of armor he had used as a shield for blocking the Mandalorian’s attacks. Timing it correctly, the Mandalorian had managed to dodge three of the beasts attacks by ducking, leaning to the sides and backwards with his foot work. But his fourth strike had hit home when he lost his balance for no less than a second after dodging the third one.

The chestplate used as a blunt weapon came down hard at the dome of the Mandalorian’s helmet with a loud, metallic clang; the beskar reverberated from the blow. The top part of his parietal bone of his skull would have crumbled if it wasn’t for his buy’ce. He had survived the inhuman blow with a sharp headache, but that wasn’t the only damage. The blow had landed right on top of the dome of his helmet, which also contained a number of electrical components and hardware that ran his HUD and his helmet mounted macrobinocular.

His HUD flickered a few times after receiving the blow but was restored. However, his MSTA and MFTAS hardware was moderately damaged. The calculations for the firing solutions would be inaccurate throughout the remainder of the battle for Sev Tok due to the damage received. The giant would only be aware of it upon using the ranged weapons in his arsenal.

However, he would notice his night vision shorting out. His vision started to appear blurry, with the green haze illuminating everything the Mandalorian gazed at started to fade away.

Kranak stumbled backwards a few steps upon receiving the inhuman blow from the colossal Bryn’adûl warrior. In response to his macrobinocular’s nightvision dying out, he lifted the macrobinoculars with his left hand while recovering from the blow. Normally, it would take a few moments for the Oriramikad’s sight to adjust to the change of light, but the sun was rising from the east, starting to shine light at Sev Tok and Anvil City.

While the Mandalorian was recovering from the blow to the dome of his buy’ce, the warrior had diverted his attention towards the Jetii. With considerable force, Osam hurled the broad chestpiece at the Jetii after spinning promptly on his heel. The warrior had produced a shortsword in the shape of a Kukri from its scabbard, attacking the Jetii with a number of slashes.

Casting a glance as he scanned his surroundings carefully for any other potential hostiles, he saw the Jetii stretch his right arm towards the Bryn’adûl warrior; his fingers curled into a claw. Kranak wasn’t sure as to what exactly the Jetii was trying to perform, considering his limited knowledge of the force, but he understood he was using a force based attack of some sort.

Whatever it was, he wasn’t seeing any results on the colossal warrior from his perspective. [“Di’kutla Jetii.”] mutterd Kranak to himself, as he stretched his left arm straight at Osam . With the movement of his eyes, the Mandalorian powered the weaponized repulsor on his left vambrace. The device powered up in a few seconds with a low, grumbling hum at first. The hum quickly turned into a high pitched whine when fully powered up.

The repulsor discharged with a boom. The shockwave lifted up dust and rubble as it traveled towards the Bryn’adûl. The Mandalorian hoped it was enough to knock down the warrior to the ground to finish him off. If he was knocked down to the ground, Kranak would leap towards the downed warrior and then mount him. Then, the Ori’ramikad would try to land a flurry of relentless strikes directed at the creature’s face.

 

[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 x1

Enemies: Cadere | Kranak Vizsla

---

A successful blow against at least one of his opponent's meant that the Warlord could refocus his attention fully upon the other. In this instance, the hefty blow that he had struck against the dome of the Mandalorian's head seemed to be enough to properly stun him. Osam had heard tales of the resistance and strength of much of the warrior culture's armor, especially the famed metal known universally as beskar. Nevertheless, every form of metal suffered from its own rigidity, and he had hoped that the Verikast struck would cause enough blunt force trauma to temporarily stun his opponent.

The attempt had been successful in its own right, and so he found himself hurled into lethal combat with the Knight. Lightsaber and Kukri slashed and lashed, each one deflecting the other in a series of rapid movement and swift stabs. He didn't bother going for the most lethal possible blows since he was doubtless that these would be parried, but instead focused his efforts merely on inflicting pain and bloodloss on his opponent. A swift movement sent another shriek of pain from his curled lips as the tendon in his arm twisted.

A horizontal blow. An instinctive parry. The lightsaber sizzled against the kukri, burning away at the oils which kept it safe from the plasmatic blade. It had not been designed for quite so prolonged contact, but nevertheless, neither opponent seemed to want to surrender the sword's grapple, content to let strength determine the outcome of the pivotal clash. Osam was much stronger than any human, and so he pressed on, watching as the lightsaber began to push back, ever so slightly, an inch here, a centimeter there... gradually with enough time he might send the plasma blade into its own wielder.

It was in the midst of this clash that he felt the sudden tingle about his throat, and then a more severe grip like the hand of Khaeus on his windpipe. He'd been held like this once before - not by the immaterial as now, but by the crushing grip of a Baedurin Commander who had been unpleased with the efforts of his Sraelvun subordinates. Through fear and force, he'd sought to bring them into line. Osam had relented in the moment, had sworn renewed fervor, had seemingly rushed into battle with greater vigor to save his skin. When the time came, and the Baedurin needed reinforcements, he'd redirected his squad, and left the commander to be slaughtered.

This was not an opponent that could be bargained with though and stabbed in the spine when they had turned around. Frantic eyes glared into the Jedi's own, sensing the agitation, the hatred there, a fiery rage that had matched his own. Now he felt fear, terror as he lost the clash with the plasmatic blade and the kukri slid into its sheath so that he might grasp at his throat. He could not lose the item - it had been the gift which had led to his ascension, even in dire moments, it was important it remained secure.

The Knight spoke, but the words were nothing to him, the drivel of a zealot, the gab of an over-righteous murderer. Warmth began to drain out of him as his blood fought to provide oxygen to his brain, twin hearts in over-drive as they pulsated in a vain attempt at rescuing their owner from his death. The Warlord didn't bother to spit on the face of his slayer, choosing the more dignified response instead of glancing towards the still smoldering and aflame corpse of Zephyr Krayt. A smile, wicked and menacing gleamed across his lips knowing the agony he felt now could never match that he had inflicted.

He prepared for the kiss of oblivion when fate deemed to rescue him by means of the false unity the Concord had constructed. In their desire to inflict revenge, and their hope of being the one to wield the executioner's axe, the Mandalorian had stepped out of line and fired a concussive force directly into the back of the Warlord. The repulsor wave immediately snuffed out the flame that had still engulfed his body, sending him hurtling toward the Knight with speed that he could not have managed on his own. He felt himself made contact with the Knight, slamming into him and sending him out of the way before the Warlord fell upon his back.

The extreme pain didn't strike him until a moment later - the lightsaber had been positioned within the air, still activated, and its blade had not magically disappeared when he had drawn closer. He looked now to his damaged arm and found it in pieces, cut directly down its center in a vertical line. The palm and the fingers were still intact, but from the wrist down to the elbow he could now see directly through the meat of his arm and out the other end. The bone had been carved in two as well where it had been struck. He shrieked, tears filling his eyes, his hearts beating heavily, his lungs sucking in any breath that could be mustered.

Better to have died than to be so cruelly tortured by another Jedi and another Mandalorian - always in the pair, always set upon choking life out of his corpse and carving him into pieces. Could he not exact vengeance without receiving it in kind? Was this to be his lot in life? To fight only to be driven into the earth like a worm?

His agony was such that he did not feel it when Kranak mounted his torso, nor did the first blow against his face do enough to snap him out of his shock. The second, though, cracking harshly into his cheek and loosening teeth was sufficient. A rain of heavy-fisted blows fell from the Mandalorian giant who sought to pummel his face, tenderizing it by means of his hefty gauntlets until it was little more than a puddle of gore and blood. He attempted to weave out of the way, but atop him as he was, Kranak would have little difficulty altering angle to connect each strike.

Teeth clattered together and broke, a few bursting out of Osam's mouth as his lips split and were forced to open, spilling the biological detritus out onto the courtyard's floor. He felt his jaw clack, suffering from the next, threatening to break under the pressure. His eye swelled too, as one of the blows caused it to flinch under the pressure of the strike, swelling shut. He could not lift his good arm with enough speed or quickness to halt the strikes, and so they fell, one after another until he felt as though he might surely be crushed to death.

A last-ditch effort of survival, he gripped at the remaining Sun Toxin grenade at his side, activating it where it lay and then striking the spewing container with some force against his own leg: once, twice, the fire catching on the third and igniting the gaseous mixture. As it exploded outward in a detonation of flame, the Mandalorian would be forced to move or risk being engulfed in the same way that the last had been - cooked alive within their impenetrable shell.

Osam, rose slowly to his feet as he was given space to maneuver by means of the fiery wave, looking around toward the courtyard, toward its protected exit, and once more toward the trophy corpse that he had failed to ruin and obliterate and digest. Better to live than to fulfill his vendetta against a body... better to live so that one day he might strike down a Jedi and complete his vengeance.

With a scream flooding his lungs, the hybrid caught onto the courtyard's nearest wall, and hauled himself over with his good arm. Collapsing in a heap on the other side, and beginning the long process of crawling, stumbling, and weakly dragging himself back toward their lines and the protective healing of an Ashaka.

His vengeance was half-complete... he had succeeded in a kill, and perhaps more importantly, had driven a wedge between a Jedi and a Mandalorian. How could they stand before the Bryn'adul if they were conflicted on such an individual level? What had their false unity wrought them other than a brief treaty of assistance, an alliance without legs, upon which no permanence could stand?

The Bryn'adul would slaughter them all before they learned their lesson.

 

[Krarolk T'manu]

PHASE III​

POST: V
ALLIES: THE BYRN | MARAUDERS | Group II in proximity of Seer Kalanthir | Krarolk in proximity of Kyrim Tenebris | Open to cooperation
ENEMIES: SJC & ALLIES | Group I engaging Chasianna / Zephyr Krayt | Group II engaging Hans Rennagen / Paz Koon / Rurik Fel | Group III engaging Gir Quee | Krarolk & crew engaging Dagon Kaze / Yula Perl | Open to engagement

GROUP I: TRICKSTERS
ZC: Elfiqus​

LOCATION: Sev Tok, Anvil, infiltrating enemy lines
OBJECTIVE: Eliminate frontline commanders

Relevant Submissions: Zealot Minor, Zealot Shadow, Zealot Major, Zealot Officer

It was time for the Tricksters to regroup.
​

The battle had been brutal for the group, with nearly a third of its members severely wounded or dead. Their objective came at the cost of a constantly flowing river of Draelvasier blood, especially valuable for the elite Zealots. At Zealot Commander Elfiqus's orders, the remaining approximately two thousand combat ready Tricksters had fallen back, regrouping near the Epitaph to rearm and regain strength.

Many of the survivors were exhausted, with their morale dangerously low. What would be said about the integrity of the Zealots when so many of their ranks fell in battle? What carnage awaited them in the battlefields ahead, and were they still capable of delivering a united assault? Such doubts filled their ranks, overwhelming in their presence.

An especially disillusioned Zealot Major approached Commander Elfiqus, seeking to know the details of a retreat. Before he could finish his sentence; however, Elfiqus pointed the blade of his glaive directly at the brash officer's neck. He shut up immediately, and silence came over the rest of the Tricksters as well as they observed the scene.

"I will not entertain such thoughts as retreat or surrender." exclaimed Commander Elfiqus angrily, loud enough for all those around him to hear.

"I will not deny that our Tricksters group has been dealt a serious blow. However, we are far from defeated. Two thousand fine warriors stand before me, exhausted but recovering as we speak. If necessary, then we shall revise our operations. However, at the first sign of weakness, we will all be torn apart. We are only as strong as our weakest link, and to carry that shame is an immeasurable punishment. We must ask ourselves, are we true Zealots, or are we traitors to comrades and tratiors to the Crusade!"

The response was overwhelming and instantaneous.

"WE ARE ZEALOTS!!!"

"Here shall be our new plan. One thousand Zealots shall continue to penetrate the enemy line, but on a smaller and shallower scale. The other thousand shall join me. Messengers from Commander Dermivi's group report the approach of a unit of hostiles consisting of troops we have never fought before. Together, we shall relieve our comrades in the Stop Gap and vanquish the new foe."

Renewed battle cries rung out throughout the mass as the Tricksters split up.

GROUP II: STOP GAP
ZC: Dermivi​

LOCATION: Sev Tok, flattened land in Anvil (Epitaph staging grounds)
OBJECTIVE: Use Force powers to protect the main Byrn combat formation using projected barriers, move and stabilize the wounded, assist Seer Kalanthir

Relevant Submissions: Zealot Minor, Zealot Shadow, Zealot Major, Zealot Officer

The Zealots within the barrier watched in awe as the Seer's creations reversed the cold and struck their foes.
​

Still, even with the strength of their Baedurin kin renewed under the heat, the barrier would not hold for long. Fire from the hostile gunships and the mysterious armored troopers widened long cracks in the red barrier dome, stretching the powers of the Zealots to their limit. Could they hold on for long enough to protect their Seer? Was their power, dwarved even by the Seer's, simply not enough?

"Behind you."

The one hundred Zealots holding up the shield turned around in shock as nearly a thousand more joined them, Zealot Commander Elfiqus taking the lead.

"Where is Commander Dermivi?" asked Commander Elfiqus to a nearby Zealot.

"She went to hold off the man she suspected was the leader of the new enemies." replied the Minor.

"Do not turn her bravery into a sacrifice." replied Commander Elfiqus. "Explode your barrier outwards and join us in our charge."

The order was swiftly relayed through the Stop Gap lines, and they all at once released their hold on the barrier, causing it to burst outwards before swiftly vanishing. Then, they all charged, Elfiqus once again leading them. The combined task force began a relentless counteroffensive, bullets and Force-projected blades soaring at their armored foes, all in pursuit of their other Commander.

It was the enemy commander who struck Commander Dermivi first. She drew her glaive in defense, imbuing its entire length with greatly increased strength as to block his blade of light without taking damage. It was a quick and successful parry along the Force-hardened pole of her glaive, and she was about to move to inflict a quick counterstrike when she found herself unable to breathe.

The enemy commander had Force powers of his own. Suddenly immensely distressed and unable to breathe, she choked under his fist, caught completely off guard by the swiftness of his attack. He was clearly no Jedi, his blade of a rare color and his methods unhesitatingly lethal. Dermivi had underestimated her foe, and she would now pay the ultimate price for her incompetence.

Just as she was about to embrace death, Commander Dermivi found herself able to breathe once more.

A powerful counter-force neutralized the immense pressure moving in on her head, giving her room to breathe once more. As she regained awareness of her surroundings, she realized that a new pair of footsteps were approaching, heavy enough to be that of a Draelvasier.

"Commander Dermivi, go and join your comrades."

"But.. but... I have been weakened, and they are far away."

"No. They have been reinforced by some of my own are charging to meet you now."

Surely enough, as she listened closely, Commander Dermivi heard the cries of a vast number of Zealots mixed in with the Basic of the armored foes.

"As your junior, will you punish me for my weakness?"

"No, Commander Dermivi. You shall be taught and recognize your areas of improvement, but you will not be punished. Your bravery and leadership is best served with your comrades right now. They want to see you."

"Thank you, Commander Elfiqus."

Commander Dermivi promptly ran off with renewed vigor to rally the combined Zealot force, leaving Commander Elfiqus alone with the enemy commander.

"Let us fight a fairer fight, senior commander to senior Commander." stated Commander Elfiqus in well-practiced Basic, glaive held loosely in his right hand.

?????????
???????????????​

LOCATION: Sev Tok, The Epitaph

OBJECTIVE: Eliminate Zealot Commander Krarolk T'manu and Witnesses

ENGAGING: Krarolk T'manu / Kyrim Tenebris / Quoron Ver'dum and NPCs / NPCs under Sylok'Vanari / Dagon Kaze / Michael Sardun / Yula Perl

Relevant Submissions: Her

A sudden explosion from one of the Jedi had her reeling back in shock.
​

The shockwave from the blast struck her directly in her soft chest, releasing a deluge of blackened blood that rapidly blended into the darkness of the room. She cried out in agony, her Meitkhpu scattering erratically before shortening, returning to her side. To coat the injury, she wrapped herself in her Meitkhpu, forming an ugly blob of black.

Her rage was immeasurable. For her to be denied a kill not by her Target, but by a Witness, was an enormous dishonor. For her power, which had flattened even Zealot Commanders, to be thwarted in such a manner, it was impossible. Impossible.

"IMPOSSIBLE!!!"

Her cry was filled with anguish and anger, tinged with a slight fear. Her outburst had released her emotions, and now she was an empty shell once more. An eerie sense of calm descended upon her, as she realized what must be done. She would kill everyone in this hallway-sized graveyard, everyone who had defiled her so.

The reddish-black blob moved, beginning to resemble an oval more than a vague sphere. Then, a new shape emerged. Around her head, a veil of Meitkhpu formed, flowing down to her thighs. Further down was a smaller, bodyforming layer of black, extending from her thighs to her feet and flowing onto the ground like a dress. With the transformation complete, she stood in absolute silence.

​

In an instant, the Meitkhpu in the bottom of the "dress" lengthened and raced across the floor, melting through and replacing the entire bottom of the hallway as they advanced. Fifteen sulprus strands from the floor shot upwards, all aimed at the nearby Draelvasier detachments ( Quoron Ver'dum , Sylok'Vanari & NPCs), with another half dozen aimed at the Jedi whose blast had struck her.

However, the majority of her ire was directed at her Target.

Twenty Meitkhpu flung themselves at the Zealot Commander, following the corrupted floor as they moved to double-team him, ending his futile resistance.

GROUP III: ELITES
ZC: Krarolk T'manu
​

LOCATION: Sev Tok, flattened land in Anvil, within enemy lines & Epitaph interior
OBJECTIVE: Eliminate high-ranking commanders deep in enemy lines

Relevant Submissions: Zealot Shadow, Zealot Elite

The Elites advanced further into the bunker complex.
​

Relentless gunfire pounded against their projected barrier, but it remained stable. The trio observed the desperation and futility of the defenders, and then continued their assault. They all lowered their barriers at once and then sprinted, easily closing the distance between themselves and the gunmen. Their kukris ripped and tore through exposed flesh, their precision far outclassing that of their foes. A soldier turned to open fire on the lead Elite point-blank when he kicked the human directly in his torso, slamming him against a nearby wall with enough force to knock him unconscious and crack his back armor.

With enough enemies cleared to get a clean shot on the commander ( Gir Quee ), the leftmost Elite sheathed his kukri in the head of a recently created corpse, drew his Pulverizer, and fired directly at the man's chest five meters away.

Within the Epitaph, Krarolk reassessed his objective.

The Jedi's shockwave had thrown him backwards, though by rolling backwards with the blast, he had been able to recover quickly. The unknown entity behind him had also been struck, though it had recovered quickly. At this rate, the entity was going to be a greater threat than the Jedi. From what he could tell, it was hunting him in particular, sending out many of its tentacles towards the Zealot Commander. Ultimately, staying in the Epitaph would be unwise.

With this in mind, the Zealot Commander began his final scheme. As the floor behind him began to melt away and be replaced by black, he knew that he could never beat the entity in direct combat, even with his squad. However, if the creature was really hunting him, then he could direct its wrath through the Jedi. If Krarolk could not stop it, then they would surely have no chance of survival at all.

"Retreat!"

The Zealot Elite Squad fled, entering a mad dash towards the hallway intersection where they had arrived from. Reddish-black tentacles followed, gaining ground by the second. Krarolk swiped back with his glaive at two of the many tentacles aimed at him, hoping to delay their advance. The tentacles did snap, but only with considerable force put behind the blade, which then completely melted. Tossing the now-useless weapon aside, Krarolk came within three meters of the Jedi before barrelling to the right, entering a second hallway at the rear of his squad.

Surely enough, only half of the tentacles turned with Krarolk, the other ten continuing forwards towards the Jedi, already too fast to turn as sharply. The tentacles lining the floor turned in both directions, suggesting that the entity had more than one target in mind. Krarolk didn't care, as long as he or his squad didn't join his former Commander in her grave.

The trio leapt out of the hole in the Epitaph and onto their Urasik waiting below.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

Hunting Monsters
Nearby Allies: Beltran Rarr Laertia Io
Disengaging: Tathra Khaeus
​

Fractured units belonging to nealy every known galactic power there was stood together and fought, on his order having established a coordinated firing line down which they poured unrelenting death upon any Bryn monstrosity that dared charging their position, and though men fell around him countless more were encouraged to fill any gaps with twice the zeal. Each military brought their own style and tactics into the game, working off their temporary allies with significant success.

Supporting them were the remaining tanks and walkers still operational in that sector, pounding the larger creatures into paste with their combined firepower. Any time one was targeted by the hulking brutes and knocked out or tipped over, the surrounding infantry focused fire to bring them down by continuous hail of blasters and bullets.

Thirdas maintained his focus on Tathra for as long as he could, single-mindedly pouring fire from his minigun as the nine barrels burned red hot from excersion. As long as there remained ammunition within the drum magazine, his finger would not come off the trigger.

Another red wave was issued from the Titan's axe, but this time Thirdas was not caught off his guard like last time.

"Evasive action! To the skies, Rangers!"

Activating the standard-issue jump pack available to all Rangers, those who did not dive out of the way instead took flight, leaping over the crimson death barreling towards them. From above the battlefield he was for the first time able to observe from afar the scale of the fighting, where there were gaps in the lines and where friendly forces were deploying.

Most notably, he noticed a gathering of artillery pieces that had only now pushed inside the dome behind friendly lines, lining themselves up to provide barrages where needed. While temporarily airborne he decided to make landfall right on top of them.

"I need you guys to target the Bryn vessel with everything you got," he ordered as he appeared before them. "Forget about covering a wide area -- I want all of your guns to target the same exact spot! Try to punch one clean hole through that hull, whatever it is. Line up your guns, Sergeant!"

The artillery commander saluted and spread the order to his fellow squadron of batteries.

"Fire for effect!"

In a great symphony of explosions the massive guns opened fire, coordinating their shots to target one specific area on the Epitaph, and would keep hammering it until they forced their way through the exterior. While the living vessel was sturdy, eventually even it must crack, and the continuous barrage would likely be felt by those within.

It was during this that Thirdas laid eyes on that massive plant-beast, way bigger than even the dragonkin Tathra had brough to bear earlier. Checking the magazine of his minigun, he let out a disapproving grunt. What little remained would only result in a few seconds of continuous fire. It would have to do.

"Do not stop firing on that ship, Sergeant. Our lines will hold."

And with that Thirdas turned airborne once more, unleashing what ammo he had left mid-flight, not knowing whether the caliber would even affect it. Once the minigun had lived out its use, he simply let it fall towards the ground below. Upon his rapid approach he had to dodge swiping tendrils attempting to swat him out of the sky.

He now brandished his blood-soaked battle axe and held it aloft, charging towards the terrifying beast even as it came under fire by several gunships. It was a suicidal attempt on his part, but by now he had gotten used to accepting whatever fate the Gods had in stored for him. If he were to die to this monstrous behemoth this day, then it would be a death most worthy of song on his homeworld.

What better way for a warrior to meet his end?

"I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me..."

Spoiler: TL;DR

Thirdas has disengaged Tathra Khaeus and directed a nearby artillery battery to open fire on the Epitaph, focusing on the general area of where Yula Perl and Dagon Kaze are currently pinned down by the forces of Quoron Ver'dum and Krarolk T'manu.

He is also madlad enough to try and take on the Terraformer by himself in the wake of Aien Mueller's gunship attack.

​

 

[Cadere]

Location: Anvil
Equipment: Lightsaber | Personal Light Armor | Mantellian Vambraces | FF-CAR1
Allies: Zephyr Krayt (Deceased) | Kranak Vizsla
Engaging: Osam

His telekinetic grip was unrelenting, Cas had to make the Risen-Sraelvun suffer for what he did. The fear Cas sensed within him felt euphoric, however it was only a mere taste of the fear Osam drove within the victims he'd slaughtered. Deep down he knew nothing he could do today would even match the horrors committed by the Draels' species, regardless, Cas was determined to end this one's life at least.

Staring intensely into the eyes of his adversary, his brown eyes flared with a multitude of hateful emotions. The Kiffar's eyes tracked the movement of the Bryn's, eyes stopping at Zephyr's smoldering body. Cas' eyes returned to the Bryn, and what he saw would only serve to bolster his rage. He was smiling, he was moments away from death himself and he was smiling! That was the last straw. Emotions completely took over, his hatred fuelled the Dark side surrounding him like a black cloud.

Tendons tightenting, his fingers tensed as Cas prepared to crush the Bryn's windpipe completely, extinguishing his life just as he did Zephyr's. In that moment, Cas neglected to consider the consequences of what he was about to do. Killing this monster out of hatred ensured his fall to the Dark side, he didn't care, he just wanted the Drael dead.

Unfortunately for the emotional Jedi Knight, his wish was ripped away from him. An unseen force struck the Bryn's back, sending him into Cas and thus breaking his concentration. Sheer dumb luck had just saved that monster from death... or, did it just save Cas? The Knight's frame was light, the impact from the colossal Bryn crashing into him sent Cas further than it would have sent most. Unbenknownst to Cas however, due to the positioning of his blade, he'd managed to inflict serious damage on the arm belonging to the Bryn's shoulder he'd cut earlier.

Falling onto his back, Cas rolled backward and positioned himself upright on one knee. Landing some metres away from the Bryn, Cas saw the Mandalorian on top of their enemy, he realised it must have been the armored warrior who messed up their opportunity to end the Bryn. Frustrated, a growl escaped him as he picked up his lightaber that fell out of his hand and moved toward the two individuals.

Only, the sight of, what looked like, an explosive in the Bryn's hand caused the Jedi to shield his face from an impending explosion. Upon detonation, a wave of hot fire expelled outward, forcing the Kiffar Jedi to stumble back from the draft created by the small explosion. In the ensuing chaos, the Bryn had managed to escape. "NO! Dammit!" Cas hollered, falling to one knee and slammed his metallic fist into the ground. He was so close. Frustration brewing, Cas hissed as he inhaled a deep breath before whipping his head in the direction of the Beskar wearing moron who had messed everything up.

"Why did you do that?! I had him!" his voice screamed across the battlefront, contributing to the white noise of warfare. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, his ears were hot and pulsating and his heartbeat could be felt through his chest. Still frustrated that his chance to avenge Zephyr was squandered, Cas neglected to realise he'd been saved from a dark fate of his own making.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

STANDOFF

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PHASE THREE​

Location: Frontline/centre of the Battlefield
Allies: Osam | Udomek Seker | Ostak Cl'mana | Udomek Seker | Primarch Drek'ma | Galak | Hrajlmak'Natok | Gordrak | Sethrak | Kyrim Tenebris | Gordrak | Aryshda |
Enemies: Thirdas Heavenshield | Beltran Rarr | Laertia Io
Axe | Gauntlet | Armour |
Forces: 1541 Juggernaut Ultras | 3 Reavers | 16 Ra'maks | The Dreddikkast | 20 Ravagers

Aureate eyes shifted between the three assailants directly in front of him as Beltran fired from his hand-cannon one last time before discarding it. Tathra had seen the power of the explosive rounds when he had avoided them before, this time he didn't have to. The Titan utilised his gauntlet, absorbing the energy from the individual explosions - fire whisked into a whirlpool that dissipated as his gauntlet lowered. All across the battlefield, the forces of the Bryn'adûl engaged the allied enemy as they strove to push them back, swathes of land behind them crippled by the work of the Shamans, the immediate lines of the enemy rippling with turret fire from the Primarch's Siege Towers and the overlapping fire from Ra'maks and Gunboats under command of the Warlord's. The Paladins, a sole match to the Ultras were now charging into the deep of the caverns below occupied by the Guardian, leaving the weakling militia to their mercy.

The armoured Jedi, stalking around him - he recognised him from Yurb. This battle would not proceed as Yurb had, that much was clear. No, this time he would ensure the deed was done. Childish taunts fell on uninterested ears, he had heard it a hundred-thousand times over the course of a century. Beltran was yet another overconfident Jedi in a long line of dead heroes. In the corner of his periphery, he saw the nuisance of a woman killing one of his own - she seemed to be under the impression it would get his attention. But she was wrong, until she threw it. At the same time, the Jedi leapt right for him with saber swinging for his abdomen - a ball of lightning speeding toward his face. If Beltran could feel his pain, Tathra would educate him on his gluttonous tolerance of it. With a thought, he utilised the power absorbed by his gauntlet; blasting away the body before it could come close to either Tathra or Beltran as the armoured Jedi leapt closer.

The lightning rippled across his chest and face, his skull illuminated under the depths of crimson carapace, even as his armour and bones rebuked the true strength of the lightning - Tathra felt every nerve in his cheeks spasm as his gritted teeth pushed him through. The pain was seething, gums bleeding in his mouth as his teeth jittered violently. Tathra pushed past the pain, elated to prove his strength as his physically prowess overpowered the violent energy encircling his face and crown. Tathra took shifted his stance, left foot ahead of his right as he readied for the Jedi's approach. As the Jedi's blade reached him, Tathra thrust the Axe's blade directly toward the chest of Beltran, under the swing of his saber in the middle of Beltran's momentum. The Titan raised his right gauntlet into the path of the Jedi's saber attempting to catch the blade. If successful he'd pull the Jedi closer and push his Axe threw his entire abdomen.

Tathra wished to see the weak creature limp, hanging across the Kraelmundr hilt of the Axe; drenched in his blood. The Concord needed to see it, they needed to see the truth. The Bryn'adûl had stood strong, facing off against overwhelming odds and here they stood. A testament to their strength, and soon the tide would turn. The Bryn'adûl fleets had mustered, and now three segments of the fleet of the Divine Brutality would begin to arrive in Lexrul, Ruusan and Shador's systems. With the Jedi spent here, their systems would be ripe for the taking.

Only time would tell if their forces were successful.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

PHASE THREE
Location: Battlefield | Frontlines
Allies: Osam | Gordrak | Galak | Tathra Khaeus | Sethrak | Aryshda | Hrajlmak'Natok |
Enemies:
Stave | Cuirass
Forces: Draeyde, Rhivaks, Siege Towers, Superior Draeyde, Brumaks | Servitor Guardian |

In seconds, tens of thousands were killed as the ground fell out from beneath their enemy. The loss of life was extreme, like a wave through the air. The force quelled the horror of the death, shimmers in the abyss. The Primarch's eyes dimmed, staff settling into an idle grasp of his right as the lines of their warriors pushed beyond him, his strength spent and his purpose fulfilled. Drek'ma felt the hunger of the Guardian sated as its molten maw was fed in the hundreds. Paladin forces darted down into the creatures chasm, not unlike Nar Kreeta. The Guardian was once more, ready for the forces of the Concord. The Siege Towers moved closer to the sides of the battlefield, almost encircling the Concord and their allies as they continued to tear into the enemy forces. Turret fire of molten bullets came down like a hail of fire, ballista's focusing on the heavier forces in tandem with the Ra'mak War Beasts.

Drek'ma felt a shrill amusement at the outcome of the battle, they had fallen into their trap and now their own worlds would pay, they would burn. The Concord's arrogance would pay them dearly on this day, as the outnumbered forces of the Bryn'adûl held their own. The battle meditation of the Seer brought them strength, and now their collective sight held on pushing the enemy further into the abyss. Drek'ma relinquished his intense hold of the Guardian, its task complete as it began to attack the Paladins and everything else falling into the depths of the chasm.

The Primarch would reach out, adding his own telepathy to the battle meditation being enforced by the powerful seer. But his message was different, one of acceptance.

Do not struggle. Do not fear. Rejoice, knowing that your deaths will serve a far greater purpose than your lives could have ever sought to. You will die, as we have lived - children of Khaeus. Your sacrifice empowers us, deepens our strength. Die content, die with peace.

These were not only words of consolation, but fate. Their weakness would no longer bereft these worlds of righteous use. Lexrul, Shador and Ruusan. They would all fall into the grasp of a greater empire, returned to glory under the luminous sun of their collective strength. Unity was their drive, truth their purpose.

 

[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

DEATH IS THE MARTYR OF BEAUTY
​

The grip he willed through the Force was enough to make the Bryn'adul...run. As fearsome and cruel as these marauders seemed to be, he did not anticipate them to fall back by any means, under any circumstance. These were fields of death, cold, bitter death. Stormtroopers and knights clammored into close quarters combat with the Bryn'adul marauders and in that exchange, they'd each unfurled that primal being, the grasp of survival in the chaotic, uncertain realm that was open combat.

Another Bryn'adul warrior rose to take her place at her retreat and this one spoke to Rurik...in words he could understand.

​

"Let us fight a fairer fight, senior commander to senior Commander."

A fair fight. Rurik did not covet this principle. Not when his troopers wallowed in pain and anguish on the field of battle. The only fight that mattered was a winning fight, completing the mission, returning them all home. This commander was no honorable warrior, he was a man with a death wish.

A death wish Rurik would be all but content to impose. The Lord Executor was not appointed to fight honorably...he was appointed to fight and win.

Today, he would offer no quarter, not to this monster. As much as the beast willing the Basic tongue to its command surprised him, there was no abrupt reaction from Rurik's frigid, metal visage.

"I can not offer you a fair fight....I can only offer you- the end." Rurik said in reply. His will of the Force went for the glaive loosely clutched in the Commander's hand, yearning to rip it out of his hand or at the very least, yank it away from the possibility his other hand might come to grasp ahold of it for a retalitory strike and in that following moment he lurched forward to close the distance, that organic hand willing a 'bubble' of potential energy around a closed fist with the Force as his argent blade lurched forward to thrust through the heart of the beast and his organic hand went to slam the fist against its head and enclosing helmet. There would be no hesitation.

He vowed he would not leave until all Bryn'adul were dead. And when light calls...iron answers.


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

ENEMIES | BRYN | Krarolk T'manu | Seer Kalanthir

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