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Dagon watched the faint contortion of her features, the strain of tension pulling creases on a young face where there shouldn't be any. A sign of the hulking burden, of the lamentable horrors she and everyone else had witnessed in their trials to stave off the Bryn'adul. He could not allow her to crack, he could not allow them to crack. The crucial moment was nigh and Dagon knew he had to wash away the fears and become the sigil of hope he had sworn to be. To inspire the forces of good to rise up against evil. To be the beacon of Light against the encroaching Dark.
To be a Jedi.
The blinding lines of hyperspace morphed into the all too familiar stars of real-space. Alerts blared across the cockpit's terminals and in a series of motion he shut them off to inspect the situation before them. In shimmering blue the tact-map appeared from a holoprojector identifying the ships in orbit with it a wall of text providing real-live feedback on the situation as it progressed. The multiple new blips of blue appearing from hyperspace brought a smile to his face... and most importantly - hope; the Alliance and the New Jedi were indeed arriving. An inaudible gasp escaped his lips at the sight on the viewport - an Imperial Star Destroyer, and more importantly the NIV Antares Draco. The vessel of the Imperial Knights he came to know well during the Stygian Campaign against the Sith.
"They've come?" the question was more of a statement of surprise rather than anything else. His mind briefly wondering if his old friend Djonas Val
and his partner Saaveina
were here, too.
The unthinkable had come to happen.
The galaxy had come together, no matter how fledgling of a moment that might be, to fend off the existential threat of the horde of the south.
This was it. The moment of our time. The nexus to converge them all, to bind the galaxy against the scourge that sought to destroy it.
His eyes narrowed from the viewport back to the tact-map to which Yula was pointing. "Let me see what the intel says..." Dagon began weaving through the interactive holo, scouring the irrelevant info before finding what he was looking for, "It's some kind of dome they have erected. Impenetrable, seems like-- no, well, hmm-- it's staving off orbital and air support but soldiers have been able to enter, hold on-- damn..." the Jedi frowned "It's basically.. a cage. They're trapped inside left to the carnage of the Bryn." he blew a large air of tension through his nostrils before adding, "The outcome estimates are grim - without the heavy support from above--" the words trailed off inaudibly.
Enough.
"-- that shield needs to go." Dagon stated their shared goal glancing at Yula, "By any means necessary."
Yula brought them down to one of the ad-hoc landing zones utilized both for ferrying in reinforcements and evacuating civilians off-world. The few erected tents breaking at the seams under the overflowing strain of families seeking to survive to see another day. Medics with blisters on their hands cauterizing wounds, patching up screaming soldiers returning from the front line, some with limbs, others without.
An all too familiar sight to the young Jedi. Ziost, Ossus, the whole Stygian Caldera.
Once more.
Last drawn gasps scraping the air like gapped knives, eyes debauched with stupor staring into nothing, dry lips uttering delirious goodbyes. All around them voices quivering from overwhelming fear, seeking escape from this conscious nightmare. Voices of the walking dead.
Dagon reached out at the empyrean for deliverance, aided by Jairdain
's tether through the ethereal. The benevolent Force, Ashla, answered washing away the terror and steeling his nerves, infusing him with the strength to persevere through this earthly tribulation.
There's no time for fear.
Not anymore.
It was do or die.
He halted for a moment just before the wall of the foreign, red dome and threw a glance at Yula's way. Gone was the horror and dread in his eyes, replaced instead by a divine purpose.
Zeal.
For only a fraction of a second his features softened as he felt her own uncertainty with what lied on the other side and the weight of their responsibility here and today. It was all for the galaxy. Oddly or not, Dagon recalled what Michael Sardun
had once told him and he echoed it to his partner.
At this point in his life, having been Syd Celsius’ apprentice for over five years, Starlin was thoroughly inoculated to weirdness. That said, he was still a bit surprised when he came across the woman in the spider-like suit, walking around the tunnels with the help of strange tendrils that hummed with an eerie energy.
She was quick to clarify that she meant no harm. Starlin more or less relaxed. “We’ve got the same mission objective, then,” he replied. She’d given no more information than that—not her name, what crew or clan or faction she was aligned with, nothing. To be honest, he preferred it that way. They were all together here, on the same side, fighting a common enemy.
It was pretty fething awesome.
He concentrated on escorting the civilians. Things were definitely happening topside; the ground shook, sending dirt and rocks tumbling down onto the tunnel-traversers, but they pressed on, determined to reach the shuttles. After the first group made it and Starlin saw them off, he and Jaina returned to the tunnels, heading back to the city.
Within minutes, he sensed Bryn forces advancing upon the area. He ducked into cover, waiting for the right moment to strike. In the distance he could see a strange red shield obscuring nearly half the city of Anvil, a crashed Bryn ship contained inside the bubble. Clearly things had gotten busy.
As the troops descended upon the entrance to the tunnels, Starlin leaped into the fray, sabers blazing. He became a blur of orange and blue, cutting down the invaders with enough skill and finesse to match a Jedi Knight. His lightsaber sang in his hand, the song of Starlin Rand, while his shoto blazed, erupting from its hilt and splattering chunks of lava at the Drael.
Jaina fired her disruptors, vaporizing Drones and Juggernauts as they staggered up the slope and cutting down any who got too close with her blade. “We’ll have to head into the city ourselves, pick up civilians that way!” she shouted over the sounds of combat and carnage, gutting a Bryn down the middle of his back as if he were (groan) a cooked lobster.
“Sounds like a plan!” he shouted back. Heat rising in his throat, he breathed fire upon his enemies, forcing them back as he and his allies headed for the wack-ass shield.
Cas felt the body of a drone go limp under his boot, as well as its strange signature within the Force snuff out, following his lightsaber being thrust into its abdomen. Pulling the amber blade out of its lifeless body, a scarlet hue shadowing over him caught his attention. His head raised, glancing at the red dome which formed over half of the city "They're supposed to have brawn and no brains. Not both." he muttered to himself. Knowing the behaviour of the Bryn, he surmised that it had something to do with trapping everyone in the city with them. It didn't matter, because now they were trapped too and Cas could sense the firey determination to ward off these monsters.
"Master Jedi! He--" a pleading voice of one of the soldiers returned his attention to the fight "No!" Cas yelled once his eyes laid sight on the image of a single soldier grouped up on by three drones. Launching himself high into the air, the Kiffar directed himself toward the three drones and transitioned into a flip before landing with his full weight and on the back of one of them. "No means no, guys! Break it up." he quipped as he sent a kick toward a drone closest to him, staggering it. Quickly, he raised the lightsaber in his hand with the tip of the blade facing down the Bryn drone under his foot and promptly plunged it into its back. The remaining two drones attempted to converge on him and overwhelm him, however, Cas vaulted over them "Rethink your strategy, guys." the Jedi quipped, striking at one of the drones with his lightsaber mid-vault.
Landing behind them, Cas quickly severed their legs at the shin in a single sweeping strike. They fell and were promptly shot dead by the soldier he'd went to save. "Thanks for making things go faster--" he started only to stop midway through, he went silent from the shock and simply stared for a few seconds. The soldier took notice before wincing "Is it bad?" gritting his teeth, Cas averted his gaze from the soldier's mangled leg which must have been the result of the prior mauling. "Depends on your tolerance for gore..." he tried to joke approaching the soldier and kneeling beside him "I'm sorry... I should've been faster... I--" the soldier cut him off "No point in apologising, I'm still alive and..." he paused, shooting an incoming drone right in between the eyes and launching it back. "...We're in a warzone." Cas knew what he meant, there wasn't time to talk nor apologise in the middle of the battle.
Speaking into his comm, he reached out to anyone who was qualified or would listen ::I need a medic ASAP, we have a man down. Sending my coordinates.:: Cas tapped the downed soldier's shoulder heartily "I'll stay with you. I won't leave anyone behind." he assured him, ready to combat anyone attempting to get an easy kill on an injured man. Although he wanted to take the fight to the members of the Bryn with higher authority, right now his main priority was making sure these men survived to see their loved ones again. The image of Zemira flashed into his mind once again, electrifying both his body and his drive to win this fight.
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: "VOODOO WING"
CALLSIGNS: Captain Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Voodoo 1", Commander Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Voodoo 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Voodoo 3". Each Squadron leader makes up "Voodoo Wing", their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
The bridge was relatively quiet, given the circumstances. An extra squadron of bombers and two squadrons of X-wings and both swuadrons of Siroccos went down to the planet to escort the Marines and provide air support. The fleets above the planet were more than ready for anything that could be thrown at them, there was enough firepower that it would take an enemy armada the size of the infamous “Katana Fleet” to get the drop on them, and even then their chances were good.
The Ethereal Marines were staging outside of the Red Dome, fighting vehicles were starting up and being armed as various platoons and squads were going over orders. Lt. Colonel Telaksta was “boots on the ground” as her comms officer patched her in.
“Neebray, this is Dewback, we’re at the watering hole.” The code was simple enough.
“Acknowledged, have a nice drink.” The code back was much the same coming from the Ethereal. The bombers were flying overhead in holding patterns, and the X-wings were in high altitude cover positions as well, meanwhile, the Siroccos were executing high speed flybys. The transports were going back and forth between the ground, and the carrier, which could be seen from Terra Firma, but the gunships were circling the Dome itself, looking for clear areas. The destruction that these Bryn caused, it was… well in a combat sense it was effective… but it was so indiscriminate. There was no honor to it. Then again “honor” was a subjective term.
Back on the bridge, Angellus was going over the data of what scans of the dome itself brought. They theorized already and were broadcasting it to the other ships, like the Mandalorians(Mig Gred
), the Galactic Alliance (Liedran Kathause
), and the NIO (Rurik Fel
), even the Elysium Empire was there (Heath Valhoun
) the problem is, what could enter, and what can’t? It was time to test a theory.
” Get the escorts into Intercept position. Contact 'The Flytrap', get the Gravity Wells up and running, and as for that little red dome, send in two recon drones.”
“We already have boots on the ground, Cap’n.” Commander Pouiel(Rojuh), the Flight Director called out from his section of the bridge, now THEY were busy over there with all of the squadrons and the transports flying. Which of course meant that he wasn’t always able to hear entire conversations. Of course, this didn’t fly with Liram as he just looked at him.
” Into the dome.”
“Won’t it crash?” Tantor asked as he was looking over the same data, he just beath Halpern to the question.
” Lowest speed possible… we’ll see.”
“Conn-Commo” Yelled out the Comms officer from their station.
“Go ahead, Commo.” Halpern responded calmly.
“Bomber squadrons are calling in, we’ve already lost two Siroccos due to crashing into the dome. They are reporting that flying into it is impossible.”
Now Halpern was pissed. “Why is Flight Control not aware of this? Director!”
Angellus just tapped his own comm-link, he knew what he needed to authorize. ” Voodoo 3, this is Mustang!” He was calling the CAG, he was calling Scott.
“Voodoo 3… go Mustang.”
” Come back to the Henhouse, Rooster. Come see me.”
“Acknowledged.”
Now that this was done, it was time for damage control as Rojuh was already in his face. “Sir, I assure you…”
Remarkably, Liram was calm and understanding.
” You have more responsibilities now than on ‘The Lib’, I’m just giving you the help I should have given you, to begin with. Nothing’s changed. Commo-Conn, what is the status of 'Midnight Darkest' survivors"?
Satisfied with the response, Rojuh headed back to his section to continue handling his responsibilities and commanding his team, the next issue was to see what would happen with the drone as it was on its way. Angellus, still waiting on an answer pulled up the last known locations of drop pods.
"Sir, we haven't been able to establish contact."
"Flight Control, Conn. I want X-wings to work with the Marines and set up Comm-relays. See if we can get comms into that section of the city."
"Aye, you got it."
The plan was to send messages to the X-wings, then bounce from the X-wings down to the Marines, then hopefully bounce from the Marines outside to the Marines inside.
"Aiwha, this is Neebray... Aiwha this is Neebray... Come in Aiwha. Hatchlings opening up."
If Admiral Gir Quee
was able to receive the message, he too would know about the Marines coming in. No, the Ethereals were not coming in to "save the day", but every little bit helps, right?
Back on the planet, the Marines slowly began to move into the domed area from behind the Epitaph as the CO patched into the communications network. This is Lt. Colonel Adorno Telaksta to Lt. Thirdas Heavenshield
, just tell us where you need us.” As she was satisfied with her call, and waiting for a response, she saw two drones coming from the sky at various speeds.
The fast one crashed and burned into the side of the mammoth Bryn construct, but the other, much slower model “disappeared”.
“That thing just flew into the dome, quick! Calculate its speed and send the results up to ‘The Ethereal’!”
The bridge was already working on it. What they were trying to do was determine if the gunships could make it inside, and though theoretically they could, there was only one way to find out. Angellus, like everyone else, did not want to sacrifice gunship, let alone the crew of one on a theory, but it was a matter of experimentation. They had little choice at this point. The Marines were making their way in, that doesn’t mean that they won’t need the help.
” Get them to maneuver a gunship around the dome at the slowest possible hover speed and calculate it. Tell Chief Gribbs I want a drone to match it.”
Sethrak made short work of the Jedi before moving deeper into the fray. The battle hadn't gone on long, but he felt as though an hour had passed since they first entered the atmosphere. His mind felt that way, but not his body; he had an endless tank of energy thanks to the adrenaline that had been in his veins since before the fight.
As he approached the carnage more and more blasterfire whizzed by him. Some were fired at him, but he had been able to dodge them up to this point. But he couldn't keep dodging now, it was simply too intense and he didn't have the space to maneuver. He lifted his Val-shae spear and began spinning it in a circular motion like a propeller, wildly deflecting the shots. He was just about in the thick of it when he saw the gas. It was devastating, the Bryn lines collapsed almost instantaneously. Through the chaos Sethrak heard The Warlord Galak
's voice roar out a retreat. The collapsing lines routed, some fought in the retreat, others were shot in the back. Meanwhile some pockets of Drael were overrun, unable to keep up with the rest.
Panic tried to seep into his mind but he quickly blocked it out, formulating a plan.
He created a ball of red light and heat in his left hand, shooting it up into the brisk air above. Then he lifted his mind stone, communicating with Galak first he spoke, "Galak! Come to the light in the sky, reform the lines there. I'll call in any reserves we can spare. Stay strong, brother."
Then, true to his word, he immediately contacted the reserve troops still in The Epitaph. "We need some reserves deployed. Not all of them. There's some kind of gas, it made the lines collapse."
In the moment of chaos and retreat there was one thing that fortified his resolve. The Bryn had deployed the dome, Red light illuminating the night sky, contrasting and overpowering the cool Blue of The Jedi. The Jedi had the cold, they had the gas, and they had the numbers. The Jedi had the larger shield, but the Bryn'adul would overpower them in the end. They would not be stopped. Their crusade was inexorable, their bloodlust unquenchable, and their hegemony immovable.
Inspired by the shield, The young Warlord took a defensive stance knowing that very soon he would be hit by a wave of panicked and retreating Drael, followed by a swarm of Jedi forces. He would Hold.
Location: Anvil Wall Equipment: Linked in biography Tags:Osam
The Mandalorian's attention turned from to picking off their arriving enemies to supporting the struggling troops who were getting ravaged by their beastly opponents. Through the scope, his gaze clocked onto a familiar Jedi, Cadere
, who he had experienced a rather unconventional relationship with, first as bounty hunter and bounty, then colleagues, then friends and now allies. He seemed pretty competent at holding his own on the battlefield but Zephyr carefully aimed for the eye of one of the drones that raised an arm to attack, sending a bolt through the creature.
He took aim again, tuning out all the distractions that surrounded him, including the blaster-fire from his ally beside him. In his concentration, there was nothing in the world but him and the target which was what made it ever more vital to have support. While a skilled marksman, he was not attentive.
Before he could fire on a target, he was roughly tackled backwards, over the wall and outside the city. He reacted quickly and activated his jetpack before free-falling too far and looked up to see projectiles soaring overhead where the pair had just been. His ally was hovering beside him, a few feet higher, and they remained there until the return-fire ceased and a red aura filled the sky above the city. The pair shared a look before leaving the safety of the wall to rise over the boundary and into the city.
::Kaira, Arden, what's happening?:: The leader checked in with their allies who were now inside the dome that had appeared before them.
::I don't know:: A muffled reply returned.
"Look." Zephyr spoke up, drawing Caius' attention to the dome.
"What?" He replied.
"The battle is confined to there. There's no stray gunfire." He pointed out.
"So they're trapped."Caius concluded.
The comms opened with the screeching sound of static for a few seconds.
::What was that?::
There was silence.
::I can't see Kaira!:: Arden's panicked reply came back.
Then the scream came.
The three Mandalorians at the receiving end listened in horror at the blood curdling scream emanating from their ally and friend as she was being killed - the manner of which could be left to their imagination as her pained cries filled their heads.
::Wait! I see her- Oh my god. I'm going to be sick:: He heaved. The group fell silent, reeling in shock. ::Where are you guys?:: The quiet and trembling voice of the youngest member of their squad asked after a few moments.
::On our way:: Caius replied with conviction, indicating no emotions in his tone despite the fact his heart had leapt up to his throat. As the leader, he needed to remain steadfast.
Zephyr slung his sniper over his shoulder and followed his superior as they approached the edge of the dome and landed on the ground. He reached his hand in to check they could pass through and upon seeing that his hand could penetrate the barrier, he shared a look with his ally before they entered the dome, knowing that they may well never leave.
Once inside, they immediately had to contend with blaster-fire and launched into the air to evade any shots in their direction while launching their own defensive attack with their blasters. The pair approached the centre of the battle from overhead, keeping at a speed that made them more difficult to target. Below, he subconsciously scanned the ground for the familiar Jedi, but he caught glimpse of the familiar orange armour below and immediately felt a pit in his stomach. He only witnessed his ally... or what remained of her, for a few seconds but those seconds would stay with him for a lifetime.
He quickly diverted his focus to somewhere else, anywhere else, to avoid dwelling on what he had witnessed and collapsing under the pressure. He adjusted his HUD to locate Arden and found him engaged in a battle with a drone in the distance. Drawing a vibroblade in one hand, he launched towards his ally and planted his foot firmly against the other's side, kicking him clean out of the way of the beast and taking his place. He thrust the blade into the creature who wrapped his hand around the Mandaloran's visor, preventing him from seeing properly.
It was no matter as Zephyr twisted the blade to ensure certain death. The grip on his helmet loosened and the supporting blaster-fire from Arden, who was still on the floor, finished the being off. Zephyr turned to his ally and offered him a hand covered in all sorts of bodily fluids from the drone they killed.
Varn waited until the drop ship had landed properly before charging out with the rest of companions. His left leg -injured by a fight long since passed- protested slightly as the cold winds enveloped them. Snow had begun to fall in the interlude between the Epitaph's crash and the time Varn's crew had set down. Flakes of white fell in slow, random arcs, soft and somehow inexplicably beautiful amidst all the carnage and ugliness. Varn shivered as a drop of snow landed on the nape of his neck, trickled down his spine.
Around him, the two companies dispatched by Liedran Kathause
to accompany them, split. One followed after Jax Thio
as he led the charge towards the crater with Aayla Shan
. The other lingered behind, as if waiting for something. It took Varn a moment to realize he was the one they were waiting for. He straightened up. "Right. Captain Rymar! Gather your men. We're going for a walk." A man in the familiar armor of the Concordian Rangers nodded as Varn addressed him. His head bobbed strangely; the knight guessed he was talking over the company's closed channel. No doubt giving orders. It would've been nice to hear what was being said. "With me!" Varn shouted, leading them away as the drop ship lifted off in a whir of repulsorlifts.
Despite not being at the front, the sounds of blasterfire and the echoes of carnage were easily heard as they passed through the city streets. This close to the crater and the ship nestled there, it was almost deafening. Soon, he knew, it would grow worse. So too would the sights, the smells, the things that battle left in it's bloody wake. It was not something the zabrak looked forward to, but he would have to face it all the same. Everyone would.
The thunder of boots pounding stone reminded Varn of war drums as they ran South, the pace steady in spite of all that was unfolding nearby. The Rangers at Varn's back were all professionals. They all knew what fear felt like. They also knew the value of discipline, and courage. For a few seconds, the void between friend and stranger seemed to recede. These Rangers, for all they once were, and for all they would become, were his brothers and sisters now. So what if he knew none of them personally. So what if he didn't usually factor into their chain of command. In this moment, in this place, they were his and he was theirs. Jedi and Ranger, warriors both.
Leading them out onto the southern edge of the crater filled Varn with a pride and sense of honour that he had never experienced before. Part of him knew it was mostly Jairdain
's influence, but he felt like there was more to it than that. What, exactly, he could not say. More's the pity.
"Captain Rymar! To me, please." Waiting by the edge, Varn watched the crater as the captain approached. What had once been homes and shops and city streets was now little more than rubble and corpses. Bryn'adul. The few unfortunate citizens who had refused to leave their homes. And others. Militiamen who'd been caught out, or just been unlucky. Concordian forces, their allies. The latter three lined the crater on most sides, though, Varn could not see them through the blasterfire and smoke. Explosions rang out in the near distance. They were soon eclipsed by more.
Amongst it all, the Epitaph lay. Varn had to admit, it looked even bigger up close.
A voice at his shoulder brought him away from his studies. "Sir?" Turning, he regarded Captain Rymar out of the corner of his eye. Tall, brawny, he matched Varn for height and probably outweighed him, too. His dust-smeared armor gave him the look of a warrior who'd been through it. Funny, considering they'd only just got here. Varn gestured towards the buildings nearby. "Have your sharpshooters get up high. I want them targeting anyone -or more aptly, any thing- they believe to be important. Shamans, Beast Masters, you nam-"
A disturbance in the Force made him stop mid-sentence. Spinning about, the zabrak watched as a large beast (Primarch Drek'ma
) took to the skies nearby. Unfamiliar, horrifying, the creature and it's Master reeked of the Bryn and their single-minded madness. Varn felt a whisper of fear brush his ear as he watched the creature come barreling back down to devour a cluster of Concordian troops. The ground and everything it touched disintegrated in a cloud of dust, smoke and screams. It's Master jumped cleared, landed ahead of the Bryn' line like a prophet come to do his God's bidding.
Varn swatted the fear aside, turned back to Rymar.
"As I was saying: Kill anything of importance. If we can cripple their leadership, we can cut the head from this army. I know, this beast has many heads, but see what you can do." Squinting out across the crater towards the Epitaph, Varn noticed a number of monster-men ambling about (Osam
). Reserves or something else, they crouched and crawled amongst the ruins, their purpose nefarious. Probably. It took the knight a moment to guess what they were doing. "And while you're at it, captain, mind interrupting those critters over there? If we ever decide to attack their ship, it would be appreciated it there were less defenses."
"Yessir. We'll get it done."
Varn nodded, began to walk away.
"Might I ask where you're headed, sir?"
Varn turned without breaking stride, hooking a thumb over his shoulder as he went. "To deal with that thing."@Primarch Drek'ma The look on Captain Rymar's face was both parts respect and shock. The Captain shook it away, saluting Varn. "Right you are, sir." The pause that followed was heavy with something the zabrak didn't quite recognize at first. Then, he did. The Jedi smiled, surprised by the Ranger's hesitation. "May the Force go with you, sir."
"And you, Captain. And you." Igniting his lightsaber, Varn turned in time to witness a group of drones as they launched themselves over the crater's edge nearby.
His challenge was heard, and an answer was given, the Titan's arms fell at his side as he looked across the battlefield from the cusp of the crater. Frozen in place, he wondered if his decisions today had been right. Was the total sum the slaughter of his best warriors... friends - brothers? Chaos ensued around them, railgun fire took down one of their Reavers as the kaiju-beasts did their beast to halt the mixture of artillery fire and the falling debris materialising above, one of their four Reavers killed as slug tankfire came down on their position, filling the crater with new charred pockets as the kaiju collapsed, in the sky even with thousands of Phedrak fighters in flight, many were killed by both enemy fighters and grounded anti-air support, without Galak's Obaliscs; Tathra was unsure they would be able to secure any defence in the sky. Chunks of buildings, walls fell all around and inside the crater; finally forcing Tathra to leap from the edge as he landed on his right knee. His hand grasped at dirt, feeling the grains falling between his fingers. It was a reminder of what they fought for, home. This Galaxy was their home and they could not allow the Humans to continue to spoil it with their vile nature. They and their endless conflicts had destroyed enough planets, he hoped theirs would be the last. When he rose, the Ultra's were at his side. They were ready to give life and limb for this battle, engineered to be the strongest, this was the purpose of their existence.
To ensure the survival of his kin was his.
Tathra's hand formed into a fist, crushing the soil as it seeped between his fingers and taking his Axe into a two handed grasp. Ahead of them, Galak's forces were being overrun, their initial lines crippled by the toxins as Warlord Sethrak and his own warriors moved in to assist. Instantly, Tathra knew where he needed to be and what needed to be down. Tathra pointed to the red shield projected among them, his heart burning as Galak's call for help came through his Mind Stone, his own legs begging him to run to his friend. But he had to keep pace with the Ultra's, they had to reinforce their lines and break through or the Jedi would crush them.
Tathra commanded through thought, the Ultras falling in behind him as they rushed forward against the retreating Juggernauts and Drones of Galak's own force. As they saw the Ultras, lead by the Titan and his blood-red Axe; a new vigour took sway as the Ashaka within the ship focused on battle meditation.
"It's the Chieftain!"
"Look! Their rallying! To the Chieftain!"
Ultras, with me. Osam, Vandals - protect the Epitaph. Ensure none reach the Seer nor the Shield Core. Kraemonen, deactive the elevators. Hrajlmak, Zealots - cripple their lines. Sow chaos among their ranks behind their primary lines, I and the Warlords will breach the front. Sethrak, Gordrak; we go to Galak.
The two Warlord's forces began to rally behind the Ultras, those still retreating parting to create a path, joining behind them as Tathra broke into a sprint, spearheading the semi-circular wave of Bryn'adul forces pushing further into the crumbling city. Ahead Galak lay among their fallen, and the forces of the Bryn'adul rushed to clash with the enemy just beyond him. He was not allowed to die today, not like this. They needed to be rid of the gas, not all of them had shields. Aureate eyes stared down the Concord as their widened, they had underestimated the strength of not only the Drael, but the Bryn'adûl as a whole. Rage fuelled the Titan as he leapt at the staggered charge of arrogant Concord forces; raising the Axe above his head as he crashed into the ground. The earth beneath his Axe shattered as a powerful red kinetic shockwave erupting from the blunt base of the blade, knocking back the rushing horde of his foe. As he rose, the Ultras charged in at his side, all brandishing their wrist blades as they thrust themselves into the Concord's forces. Their strength, unmatched as they turned men into splatters of blood, using their enhanced strength to trample the enemy underfoot. Leading the other Juggernauts and Drones as they gave their everything to halt the advance of the enemy.
The Titan whistled, looking back to the Epitaph. It was time to change the terms. His beloved war-mount, the Dreddikkast projected itself out from the confines of the ship, launching itself to the battlefield as its myriad of black wings glistened in the night sky. It charged across the battlefield, using its immense strength to clear the area of gas with one powerful thrust of its wings, Tathra could not help but smile as the Dredd reached out; using its own battle meditation to bolster them. The Dredd shrieked, fanning its wings out as Tathra leapt into the fray. His gauntleted hand swung low in a knife-hand, thrusting threw a man, pulling his right back into a fist, covered in blood. With every blow of his Axe, another wave of energy exploded out from the helm sending dozens of the tightly backed Concord soldiers crashing against each other.
"Sethrak! Galak! With me, now! Together, they cannot stop us!"
Unity made strength. If they wanted to push them off of this planet, they'd have to pay for it in the blood of thousands more.
Enemies: Cadere
| Zephyr Krayt | All Non-Bryn'adul
It was a common misconception that the forces of the Bryn'adul were little more than mindless roving marauders and conquerors. It was thought that their entire focus was on bloodshed and conflict and that they were completely lacking in any kind of emotion other than bloodlust and hatred. It was true that the Draelvasier had displayed little more than rage towards the primarily human factions that they had fought with throughout the years, and it was also accurate that they showed little compassion nor kindness to any of those who opposed them - or even those who simply stood within the way of their righteous creed.
They were not, however, completely without personality. Whether they had been vat-born; produced as if though they were little more than weapons to be manufactured within a facility, or whether they had been birthed through more natural means, each of the Draelvasier had at one point or another been thrust into existence with almost no knowledge of the galaxy around them. The hate they felt was not ingrained on birth, but it came soon afterward with the presence of flash-training modules and the subsequent trials and tribulations impressed upon each and every one of their kindred.
Fear too manifested itself in their ranks from time to time. Each of them possessed something of a casual fear toward sources of danger, as did many sapients throughout the galaxy. A fear of heights prevented them from hurtling themselves off of cliffs with no regard for their health, and a fear of their elemental weaknesses kept them from early graves. Most had the fear of simple battlefield obstacles - blasters, vibroblades, and lightsabers carved out of them through their intense training or at least nullified so as to prevent them from breaking under the pressure of conflict. The Sraelvun in particular rarely feared much of anything at all.
Gazing up at the red dome which now trapped them all, listening to the cries of his kindred being slaughtered by artillery pieces, and watching helplessly as the poisonous vapors of an excruciating and lethal bioweapon fell from the sky, Osam felt the return of an old enemy that had long since embedded itself into his soul. Fear in all its numerous forms greeted him like a stranger with a gun to his head: Fear that he would be stricken by a falling mortar shell and be blasted into chunks, fear that he would be caught by the lightsabers of a Jedi and face a gruesome evisceration at the hands of self-righteous defenders, fear of the gas - of melting into an ooze of proteins and fibers of musculature.
Fear of never being enough. That fear was triumphant over the others because each of them would prove it true. He had gone from a veteran of countless battles, a mere gear in the cog of the Bryn'adul warmachine to becoming someone of worth. The First of the Risen-Sraelvun, and someone who was respected and revered by his peers. He had stood alongside the Titan before the onset of the fighting had even begun, summoned at the behest of their mighty predecessor. He had been appointed a Warlord, given control of systems, and of entire races.
He could not move a pillar of stone off of his chest.
Titles and glory did nothing to move the stone. It was unfeeling, insensitive to the plight of the being it crushed. It cared not for his aspirations and goals, or for his history, and certainly, it cared nothing for his fears. He'd nearly surrendered himself to his awful fate of being mutated and mutilated by the poison gas which was oh-so-near when a being rushed into his view. It was neither Baedurin nor Aeravalin nor Sraelvun - not a Draelvasier at all - but one of the newcomer races. The Vaydralen stood over him and spoke even as he placed the personal shield upon the hybrid Warlord's chest.
Rescued. Not by one of his kindred, but by one of the Vaydralen who had not yet fought alongside them in battle. All of the glory and the honor he had claimed had not been for not, because now he saw the worth of such things. Personal aspirations and ambitions had been all well-and-good, but the acquisition of power was not an end, and it was not a goal. It was a grindstone that scraped away at marred focus and brought the truly important things back to one's attention.
Osam saw now the worth of becoming a Warlord. So that he could foster the growth of these alien peoples whose worth was already so evidently visible, whose camaraderie made them shine like beacons.
He could not move a pillar of stone off of his chest. Whether he was Drone or Risen, Major or Warlord, that fact would never change. The weight was too much... but the Bryn'adul together could lift any stone. No matter the weight, no matter how pressing, no matter how frightening, together they could accomplish more than any one of them could ever achieve.
"Thank you. You have saved me." He spoke truthfully as he was hauled to his feet, rescued from the debilitating chunk of debris and from the gaseous dissipation ahead. He raised an arm and placed it firmly upon the shoulder of the Vaydralen in thanks and made a mental note to receive their name so that they might be given accommodation after the battle had been completed.
(Laertia Io
) Several dozen meters behind them, Osam observed as a series of explosions rippled through the barricades being formed by the Akhenaton battlefield engineers. The insectoids had worked with exceptional swiftness in constructing the barricades from whatever pieces and materials had been available, but they had been designed in order to ward off infantry - not explosive shells. These had torn apart segments of the barricade and scattered fledgling Draelvasier to pieces in the process. Thankfully, the Insectoids themselves seemed to have suffered only minimally and now went swiftly to work in repairing the breaches.
They were interrupted in their repair work by the sudden intrusion of two and a half dozen warmachines. These had been perceived before in battles past, and ways to combat them had been passed along to the Bryn'adul. They had proven to be very effective murderers, and their approach signaled that a substantial fight would soon take place. It was significant, then, that they would choose to assault the barricade with weapons designed to slaughter Draelvasier, only to find the Akhenaton and Vaydralen reserve forces there.
Guns designed to slaughter Draelvasier would still work well in obliterating the armor of these forces - it was still primarily Verikast. Nevertheless, the flesh of these creatures contained no particle whatsoever in similarity with their adoptive brethren, and so the weapons which had been so specialized to fight Draelvasier would find themselves less effective than expected. While the Akhenaton worked with a level of unmeasured cooperation and fought with expertise from their fortifications, the Vaydralen were optimal assailants, sallying forward from the barricades and then back behind them in measured bursts, striking whenever it was least-convenient for their enemy.
This battle might have continued in their favor forever were it not for the sudden appearance of several structures over the heads of both the defenders and the forces immediately besides them. While these compounds were not utterly massive in size, they were still destructive enough to cause severe damage both to the defenders and their barricades. Nearly a half of the Vaydralen and the Akhenaton were slaughtered by a mixture of enemy firepower from the Neutralizers and the falling buildings.
As the battle raged behind them, so it continued also in front of the forces of the Bryn'adul. The warriors under the command of Osam held whatever ground they could take admirably, returning fire on whatever militia and Concord forces happened to peek their heads out from cover, but it was a slow and tenuous momentum - and one that felt increasingly backwards. Were they being driven back towards the Epitaph so easily by the overwhelming numbers of otherwise inferior opponents?
The presence of an additional contingent of Rangers and soldiers from the Concord caught the attention of the hybrid, especially once their sharpshooters began taking pot-shots at his men. Recognizing the need to maintain the pressure on their foes, Osam promptly spun about and gave a hearty shriek to, "Have the Rhivaks open fire on those soldiers! Crush them! Risen! Go with them!"
The Shamans complied with the command, and the quadrupedal Rhivaks rushed forward towards the forces brought into play by Varn Barakis
. They possessed immense energy within their bodies, and though they spread out so as not to interfere with one another, they were linked by their choice of target. With the presence of the remaining squad of Risen-Sraelvun to provide them with support, they would be a sufficient match for holding back the forces of the Rangers... at least that was the hope of their leader.
With nearly all of his available forces committed to one fight or another, Osam found himself steadily running out of troops. It was apparent that he himself would need to join the conflict in a greater capacity. Peering out into the wreckage, he spotted a trio of Drones as they fought to slaughter a fallen Concord warrior, only for the soldier to be rescued by the timely appearance of a Jedi Knight. (Cadere
)
His desire to avenge his earlier shortcomings and once more prove his worthiness as Warlord swelled within his chest - especially now that it was increasingly vital that he personally participated in the conflict ahead.
"Shamans. Give me two of the Syphons - attach them to follow me. I'm going to slaughter that knight."
The command given, and the pair of blind and vampiric creatures given their orders, the Risen-Sraelvun marched towards his foe. Though the distance was insignificant between them, it felt as if though he were taking steps on the path of destiny.
The decision to drop the packs was changed when they entered the Dome, the Ronto was working and the team was able to retrieve them once they were able to enter. There was just no way to be able to carry the loadout that they needed without them. That doesn’t mean that the other contents in them were not emptied though. A few moments went by as the huge fighting vehicle was inside the dome as well. As Raguel got the “ride” moving to a different spot, more for “Overwatch” than anything, the team took to vantage points.
So much for that.
Not a big deal.
We can smoke a lot of’em right now, Boss.
Wait until they begin to make their move.
Looks like they’re moving.
On the horn with Selaphiel, he can hear them. Forces are staying behind.
We’ll just kill them then.
... and you guys think I’M a ‘sadist’.
You are…
Contact right. Team of four, patrol.
They have comms, they’re stopping for a check-in.
Let’em pass.
Quietly they waited before the team of… whatever they are… to pass. These monsters were smarter than they looked. They did simply plod along but slowly walk in formation, checking corners, sides, and angles for shots. They would be impressed if the Omegas weren’t wanting to kill these karkers. There were more spots where it was "stop and go", but the Bryn did not know they were there, they were paying more attention to what was in front of them, which they very well have good reason to, to think about relatively what was behind. The drone that somehow made it in was proof to Azrael that his message was sent to the Ethereal, and the Marines come in were even more proof. The tide was about to turn in their favor, finally.
We got a problem, Boss.
Alien however was suddenly feeling a wave of inspiration. It was as if he could take on all of the Bryn’a’dul by himself unarmed.
Solve it. We’re about to move.
Barachiel… Uriel… hit’em. Yeah, you heard me. Do it.
What the Team’s second was doing was calling the HAATs that were still in the air and inside the dome. Up to this point they had been pretty much out of L.O.S. but once the winged beast came out of the ship, it was time to make their presence known. Even if they went down. Swooping in, the two gunships with both their blaster and beam weaponry fired on the Titan and his flying pet.
Would they kill it? Only the Force knows, but the target was rich and the aim was true. Unleashing half of their missile payloads helped in at minimum, putting heads down but more successful as much of the Forces behind him scattered. The other half of the payload? Those targeted the appendages, and eyes of the beast just as the beam turrets did. They may somehow not hit their targets, but the attention will be on them and not the Silver ground troops below them for the moment.
Did they run? Yes, but to gain higher ground.
This also was a distraction for Gabriel to set a charge underneath one of the central landing struts of the Epitaph. Blue Team moved with Red and Gold but stayed at a good distance behind in vantage points that allowed for well-placed kill shots. They would need it.
Contact Right…
Mine!
This was the test of the new FYB ordinance. The 40mm grenades loaded into the under-barrel launcher of their rifles. Each team member carried one. Grenades on their own are capable of enough damage, but FYB grenades are basically carbonite explosives. The splash damage froze the Vandals in place. Several swift kicks shattered them where they stood. This was a good test, but there could be no messages to other Bryn, this needed to remain quiet.
Obviously, it would be forever, but they did not need “forever”.
With the engines shut down, they did not need the loading ramp or any airlocks. Rappelling lines and some climbing experience and they were able to make use of Gabriel’s experience with explosives. If there was an entry they could use to get into the ship and at the core, but for now, they would settle for the repulsor lifts. The detonators were pressure sensitive, they would not go off right now, or with some magic button. When the ship would be hovering long enough, say, engaging the sublight engines, or whatever the Bryn call them, then the explosives would go off and the ship would fall. This was not a perfect tactic, but right now, they were taking what they could get.
He'd expected to be facing down the beastly hordes alone in his mission to find and cut the head off the snake, this Titan of theirs. Though Thirdas had fought the Bryn'adûl countless times, he'd never actually seen witnessed Tathra in the flesh, with his own eyes. With all this chaos and slaughter, finding one particular foe amidst fire and smoke, however prolific, could easily turn into a fruitless endeavour. Assuming he'd even survive long enough to start looking.
Appearing beside was none other than the good colonel himself, brandishing not the conventional Ranger weaponry but rather a lightsaber hilt. It was a somewhat odd sight, for never in a million years would he assume Beltran to be a Force User. While having no clue as to the man's abilities, that lightsaber sure would come in handy. He gave him a grateful nod as they joined forces.
Where the hell are all the Jedi when you need them?
Not a moment later there appeared another pair of brave, or foolish, souls depending on who you ask. Having no clue who these ladies were, they certainly weren't Bryn. That made them okay in his book. One of them carried a lightsaber spear, a concept the lieutenant hadn't even fathomed existing until now. The other woman was... a fairy? There were strange times indeed.
There was no time to play questions and answers. They were here to kill Bryn, same as him and Beltran.
Advancing toward where the fighting was thickest at the centre of the frontline, if one could call it that, spotting the Titan himself turned out to be an easy task after all. "I take it that's him," he nevertheless asked the other three. "Not very subtle, is he."
Overhead there soared a great winged beast, not unlike bedtime stories from back home about dragons roaming the skies. "That thing's gonna be trouble," he commented.
His comm-link flared up as Subject 73 Red
hailed him directly.
"Heavenshield, this is Clandestine Special Officer Red. We read you. Not much we can do for you. Black Ops has our own assignments right now. We can try to help you, but first we need your help. We need that dome down, Heavenshield, and we need it down, now. A weapon of mass destruction has been reported within the dome. If it falls into their hands, it could spell disaster. Whatever way you can, either deactivate that dome or draw the Bryn'adul out, we need that device, Heavenshield. We'll try and help where we can, but we need that shield down as soon as possible."
This forced Thirdas to stop and digest this new information, just short of entering the fray. A nuke, somewhere here in Anvil? A slew of possibilities raced through his head, very few of them good.
"Calling all frequencies, this is Heavenshield. We have confirmed reports of a weapon of mass destruction located somewhere within the Bryn sphere. Our mission just turned a whole more complicated. We need to keep the enemy focused on us while a team moves in to find and extract the weapon."
Meaning they would need to commit more troops inside the dome.
"The alternative... is that once we find that weapon, we use it to destroy that ship, which in turn would remove their shield. It would also more than likely kill everything inside it, and Anvil would be laid to ruin for generations."
Watching the wide array of different troops locked in deadly combat with these brutish monsters, he felt he needed to get back into it.
"All commanders, regardless of allegiance, deploy your troops and engage the enemy on all fronts. Be brave. Be merciless. This is no longer a fight to defend this world, but every world. The future of the galaxy as a whole will be shaped by our actions here this day. Special Officer Red, find that weapon. We'll decide what to do with it once it's secure. Heavenshield, out."
Thirdas then charged into the frontline, joining thousands of other soldiers and warriors from across the known galaxy. Silver, Alliance, Imperial, Mandalorian, Jedi, Sith. None of these mattered anymore, not to him. They were all members of the same galaxy, and at this very moment, they were all brothers in arms.
With axe at the ready he cleaved his way toward the Titan, aided by his fellow warriors. Though beaten and bruised, he still had breath in his lungs and a heart that could not quit fighting.
Then finally, he stood before Tathra, who brandished an axe of his own. For being called a "titan", he wasn't that big.
"This ends now, Khaeus! The entire galaxy has seen you for the threat that you are! We are no longer your prey!"
Beltran's sunset-orange blade ignited as he side stepped the slash of a Juggernaut. His off hand, moving faster than almost seemed possible, drew his hand-cannon and fired off a shot. The Baradium slug tore into the massive creature's thigh, ripping a large chunk of it away in a splash of blood and gore.
Suddenly hobbled, the creature fell to a knee, putting it at the perfect height to be dispatched by a quick swing of his blade. The power of the Force radiated through Beltran as he felt the creature's death. Each Bryn'adul he slaughtered only served to increase his power. A group of armor clad Rangers, all sporting the insignia of the 666th charged passed opening fire on targets as they did.
Overhead, shells and rail bolts detonated against the Bryn'adul's barrier-creating a backdrop that was almost beautiful for its savagery. His soldiers killed and they died, wringing as much death in their last moments as he had ever seen. This wasn't Yurb. The Bryn'adul weren't some mysterious bogeyperson from stories. They were real now, horrifically so. Their campaign of slaughter had claimed billions and his Rangers delighted in the chance to bring the same to them in return.
Looking to his left, he made eye contact with Lieutenant Thirdas Heavenshield
. He returned the younger man's nod of gratitude. A Howlrunner Tank hovered past them, it's weapons firing on an advancing Bryn'adul Brumak. It was flanked by a battered Gweld-Class CAV which was also firing what weaponry it still had functional. Beltran left the beasts, one made of flesh and the others of steel, to their war.
Beltran saw as the Lieutenant's eyes shifted behind him, and for a moment the Lorrdian tensed-expecting an attack. Instead, he was joined by a woman he did not know (Chasianna
) and a woman who he knew quite well. "Master Io," He said, allowing a tight smile to cross his lips at the sight of Laertia Io
. "I'm glad to see you."
It was the truth. He had seen the Jedi's abilities before, and they were impressive.
Following Thirdas' lead, Beltran waded through the battle-killing whenever an opportunity presented itself.
Over a nearby radio operator's comm, Beltran heard the voice of his former Second in Command: Captain Mrawr growling. "Shield has been deactivated. Paladin is moving forward to the battle."
The firm set to the Togorian officer's tone made it clear that he was telling, not asking. Not that Beltran would have told him no a second time. One-hundred and fifty of the best Antarian Rangers alive, clad in power armor that doubled as a walking arsenal, carrying massive assault rifles with full length chainsaws on them was exactly what Beltran wanted to see right now.
Beltran had passed by the operator's position and just out of earshot when the man took a projectile to the head and went down in a heap of splattered blood.
They moved further in, ragged Rangers, Mandalorians and militia following in their wake.
And then Beltran saw him. Tathra Khaeus
, atop a massive creature and wreaking havoc.
"I take it that's him," Heavenshield asked. "Not very subtle, is he."
"That's him," Beltran confirmed. "And no, he isn't."
Tathra Khaeus was many things, but subtle was not one of them.
"That thing's gonna be trouble,"
"It is." He agreed.
Beltran closed his eyes, centering himself in his rage. He could feel the added boost being given to him by Jairdain
and he relished it. Calling on his voice, he threw his voice forward and up, all the way to the ears of Tathra Khaeus
. It would come to the Titan as ghastly whispers, seeming to come from all directions and nowhere at the same time. It would seem to penetrate the titan, like the cold winds that now blew in the city of Anvil.
"Take heed, Tathra Khaeus." Beltran said. "Your time grows short. Death has arrived and the name on his ledger is yours."
Hades Platoon – 50 Rangers – Divided into squads and set up in observation posts outside of the city. Snipers set up to take down high value targets (Bryn officers and the like) and communicate enemy movements.
UPDATE: Linking up with stranded 666th Elements, attempting to secure air transport back to city.
Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry – 1800 Rangers – Set up along the outer most wall of Anvil, anchoring key sections of the defense along side SDF and Planetary Militia –
UPDATE: Mortar teams are beginning to pepper the Bryn'adul landing site with shells. Machine gun nests are being set up in an arc around the landing site. Standard infantry is moving to reinforce the 666th QRF's and allied counter attackers. All indirect fire is pretty much being deflected by Thunder Dome at the moment.
663[SUP]rd[/SUP] Mobile Artillery – 64 Rangers - Set up inside the walls alongside other artillery units for priority fire missions as needed - UPDATE:Wiped out by Epitaph's landing.
666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized Infantry – 1000 Rangers in CAV vehicles with minor armor support –
300 Rangers and CO currently deploying thermonuclear mines at possible Bryn’adul landing zones outside city.
UPDATE: Approx 200 Rangers currently stranded due to power loss of unknown origin. Moving on foot toward Hades Platoon positions. 100 Rangers returning to Anvil. Mines deployed.
UPDATE: 100 Rangers returned to Anvil, currently moving through main city gates. Moving toward Epitaph landing site to engage Bryn'adul. 200 Rangers currently linking up with Hades Platoon, seeking air transport to city if possible.
600 divided into Quick Reaction Forces (100 Rangers each), located in middle levels of city.
Utilizing Gweld-Class CAV’s for quick movements.
UPDATE: All six quick reaction forces engaging Bryn'adul now (600 Rangers and vehicles). Most are inside the Thunder Dome, heavily engaged with Bryn'adul forces. (Approx 200 dead or wounded atm)
Paladin Company – 150 Rangers – Deployed to top most level of Anvil, all utilizing A.I.P.S battle suits in defense of Shield Generator - UPDATE: Currently holding position at shield generator. Not happy about it.
UPDATE: Shield deactivated, Paladin Company moving toward Thunder-dome-murder and mayhem on their minds.
He felt the bitter cold leeching at his strength, his breathes visible now as he felt his skin shiver and tremble beneath his armour. The Baedurin crawled across the broken flesh or friend and foe as he attempted to rise, a neutraliser firing at his back. Pain surged his body, tearing at his armour and flesh as he fell on his side. Galak grasped at the Shredder on his thigh, firing at the Neutraliser through gritted teeth as the horde of Concord forces broke out from between the golden warriors to make way for he and his broken line. He managed to drop the droid, but it wouldn't make a difference. He was ready to die, Tathra wasn't here. Maybe this had all been such a horrible mistake, he could think of nothing else as he watched his own kin dissolve into a puddle of viral biomass.
No. He couldn't think like that.
Overhead the enemy squadrons were tearing apart their Phedrak fighters, though some of their Gunboats had managed to land, deploying six Obaliscsacross the battlefield. Three of which would fire from the backend, trying to stop whatever else was coming in to the dome whilst the other three would attempt to assist their forces in the sky.
It was that damned Jedi, inside his head. Was he so weak as to let them make him doubt? So weak that even Drones were more brave than him? He couldn't let this happen, Galak tried to rise - fists pushing himself upright. Tank fire was raining down on their position, alongside a corral of fresh reinforcements for their enemy. His own troops falling back alongside Sethraks, even if he could reach his feet in this bitter cold hell. He was alone. Or so he thought in that moment. But yet again Galak was proven wrong, he heard it like whispers at first. The rumble of the ground, pebbles dancing along the ground as a shadow loomed, weight shifting that forced the earth's crust to shift. The Primarch, as quickly as the Guardian came it went, shattering the earth as it tunnelled through the earth. The Drones were at his side, fools - they'd risked their lives for nothing.
"No, go back! We're in too deep! Sethrak, retreat!" Galak called across the distance as more artillery fire rained down on their retreating forces.
Galak couldn't believe what he was hearing, relief washing over him as he heard the cheers of hiw own forces and Sethrak's. Their forces were rallying, rallying to the Chieftain. Galak rose as the Titan charged in, battering back the enemy as they came. If there was any way they were going to win, it was together. Unity through strength. Only together, all species united would the Bryn'adûl succeed. The Warlord fell in line alongside his own Juggernauts as they intermixed with the Ultras lead by Tathra, pushing to the front to fight alongside his kin.
"Fight for the Chieftain! Only through our combined strength will we see the day through!"
Alongside his own Heavies, the Warlord focused his fire on the milita and clone forces. He hoped their Reavers would push further upfield, otherwise the enemy tanks would bury them in tungsten and plasma.
Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, City Center, 550 Meters Southwest of The Epitaph Local Time: 22:20 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 | Beltran Rarr
| Thirdas Heavenshield
| Aien Mueller | Cadere Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Osam
| Open for opposition!
Kranak, the militia riflemen and the Antarian Rangers were putting down effective fire down range with each squeeze of the hair trigger of their weapons. They sure had a good angle on the Bryn’adûl forces committed to their Southwestern flank. They were racking up the kills, firing at all sorts of Bryn down range. Though it took more than one rifle round to put down the bigger ones.
At first, the Bryn’adûl forces hardly retaliated. A few rounds whizzed overhead, or simply lodged themselves into the large mounds of rubble or the ferroconcrete remains of structures the platoon used as cover, ripping out chunks of debris and ferroconcrete as a result. But, all of that changed after a few moments. Two minutes into the firefight, they were met with overwhelming retaliation from the Bryn’adûl.
The return fire from the Bryn’adûl wasn’t exactly accurate, but with the volume of rounds coming down on then, it did not need to be accurate. It was a hail of rounds coming down on them. The militia riflemen for the time, ceased fire and ducked behind their piece of cover as soon as the hail of rounds started flying overhead.
“Where the kark are the reinforcements!?” shouted one of the militia nervously while he ducked for cover inside a two storey building as the man got suppressed by the hail of rounds.
“I have no idea!”the other shouted back as he peaked out from the window right besides him, returning fire. His blaster rifle howled a couple of times with each squeeze of the trigger before he broke line of sight from the Bryn and slumped on the ground, trying to minimize his profile as best he could. His rounds fell short of their intended target about a hundred meters as he was denied the time to accurately aim his rifle by the rounds raining down on them.
“There won’t be anyone in need of reinforcements over here if this goes on for too long!” shouted another as he leaped and hunkered down behind furniture in hopes of protecting himself from the incoming fire.“Hall!”the rifleman shouted towards his comrade to his front, noticing the man did not react to the incoming fire.
Hall was on his knees leaned up sideways against the concrete wall on his right. The rifle was clutched in his arms, the barrel touching the dome of his durasteel helmet. The man’s head was turned to the wall besides him.
“Haaaaall!”The rifleman shouted his name once more as he crawled towards him, stopping every once in a while when the hailstorm of rounds penetrated their way into the structure. <Damn it! Why aren’t you responding?>
The rifleman finally reached Hall after a bit more crawling. He grasped his left shoulder tightly and pulled him to the side. His unresponsive comrade fell on the ground to his left side, in front of the rifleman’s full view when he pulled him. Hall’s durasteel helmet came loose from his head and gently rattled as it spun away on the ground. The rifleman froze in shock at the gut-wrenching sight. He was looking at a giant, bloody hole where Hall’s face was supposed to be.
“Adriean!”The one taking cover by the window called for. The Trooper paused for a moment, waiting for a response from him, but shouted again when he received none. “Adriean, Hall! Are you guys alright!? Answer me, damn you!” He was met with an eerie silence from both of them. The only thing he could hear was the gunfire coming from outside and rounds tearing chunks of ferrocrete from the building.
Kranak glanced at the air as The Epitaph deployed a red dome over the battlefield, covering half the city of Anvil. <Well that can’t be good.> He thought to himself, keeping a gaze at it The Epitaph’s emitter formed the dome. He assumed it was to deny them any fire support from friendly naval elements in orbit. It was a smart move, he had to give that to them.
The giant Ori’ramikad carefully peaked over his large mound of rubble to see how many were returning fire as rifle rounds struck his cover, kicking up dust and pulverizing chunks of debris each time one struck. One by one, he counted the bright muzzle flashes from the Bryn side as they continued to let loose their hailstorm of rifle rounds.
[“Haarchak!”] he cursed loudly when he was done counting. He had counted about eighty seven muzzle flashes, five hundred meters away. And that number would most certainly ramp up to greater amounts in due time, he assumed.
[“Keep your heads down! Wait for my command to return fire!”]the Mandalorian shouted over the platoon comms. The Bryn were bound to run out of rounds to fire and reload after all. In the meantime, with a previously binded eye movement on his HUD, he brought up the drone’s live-feed to check the reconnaissance data.
The black cloud that covered a two kilometer radius was no longer thick enough to hinder the probe’s process of observing enemy troop movements. The hollow red squares around The Epitaph had increased in numbers greatly as time had passed. There was a lot of enemy activity near The Epitaph.
The Ori’ramikad saw a number of fortifications being placed by the Bryn’adûl combat engineers on the Southwest flank of The Epitaph. It was safe to assume they are being placed down to strengthen their foothold. He made a mental note of focusing fire with his platoon to take out the engineers or slow down their process, but he sort of disregarded the idea as soon as he saw their position shelled by friendly artillery. <Well I’ll be… good splash!> It landed on top of them, blowing away a few barricades that they had set up, along with a couple of engineers.
<What the…> He was somewhat taken aback when seeing buildings and debris being dropped down on the Bryn’adûl forces from the skies, though. But he wasn’t gonna question it. Be it the literal act of God or a trick employed by some Jetii or a group of Jetiise, he welcomed it regardless.
Additionally there was a concentration of Bryn’adûl activity to the west of The Epitaph. <Well chit, they’re preparing for something.> The Ori’ramikad thought. It was safe to assume they’d try to break through their lines soon.
But that part was not of his concern for the time being. The reconnaissance data was being broadcasted from the probe to all ground elements, with the Headquarters being at the top of the broadcast priority. They were seeing what the probe was seeing. They could come up with a counter tactic to nullify their efforts.
What he was worried about was the fact that the probe detected friendly readings on the wrong side of the frontline, in his sector. There were friendly elements trapped on the other side, about five hundred meters away! They must’ve been alive. The probe disregarded any lifeless friendly and enemy elements when scanning the AO for enemy activity.
[“What in Death’s name are you doing over there?”] he muttered to himself as he minimized the reconnaissance data on his HUD and used his commlink to try and see if they could respond.
[“Friendly elements on the Bryn’adûl side of the frontline in the Southwestern sector, this is Ruus’alor Kranak. Do you copy? What’s your status?”]
There was no response from anyone for the time being. He repeated his last sentence, but there still wasn’t a response from anyone again. <Chit, they must be unconscious, then… Blast.> He switched back to platoon comms trying not to think of their terrible fate. He was in no position to try and reach them at this time. They were under heavy fire from the Bryn’adûl.
[“Everyone, report your status! Anyone injured?”]Kranak shouted over the platoon comms as he peaked over the mound of rubble to take a couple of potshots at the Bryn while rounds cracked past his head. His Paranaor Blaster Rifle bellowed with each gentle squeeze of the trigger. He hunkered down behind cover as soon as he fired off a short salvo to not get hit.
“Corran, I’m… I’m fine!”
“Ric, alive and kickin’!”
“A-Adriean. I… I’m alright. Hall’s gone, Sarge!”
“Barlos, ready and able, Sarge!”
“Dash, I’m doing good!”
The rest of the platoon members sounded off stating their names and status, following Kranak’s order. Their numbers were now reduced to twenty four with Hall killed in action. The giant heaved a sigh before he issued the next set of orders for the platoon. [“Someone, secure Hall’s rifle and ammo. We’re gonna need it.”] There was no telling how long this battle would take. They’d need all the weapons and ammo they could get.
“I got it.” Adrien replied over the platoon commlink.
The giant peaked out of his cover once more, taking a look at the Bryn’adûl’s side of the frontline. He was quick to notice the hail of rounds had died out. They had the opportunity to return fire now! [“Return fire! Return fire, now! Pin them down!”] The Mandalorian shouted as he rested his rifle over his piece of cover and started putting rounds down range at the Bryn’adûl targets.
His platoon followed suit shortly after. Their rifles shrieked with each pull of the trigger, unleashing a volley of blue blaster bolts directed at the Bryn’adûl forces at their sector. As he continued firing, Kranak’s HUD noticed energy build-up not too far away from the Bryn’adûl emplacements that was shelled by artillery earlier. Ceasing fire for a moment to see what it was, he turned his head towards the energy build-up and zoomed in with his helmet mounted macrobinocular. His macrobinocular zoomed in on the source after receiving the verbal command.
The nightvision dimmed its intensity automatically for the Ori’ramikad to see better. He was looking at a pair of tall beasts, looking straight at The Mandalorian’s platoon. The pair of hulking monstrosities unleashed their energy at them a moment later. Bright streaks of lightning bolts sizzled in the air towards them; the roaring thunder drowned out the sounds of their blaster fire at the moment of discharge.
One of the bolts hit the militia riflemen on the right flank. The other bolt, however, struck Kranak’s cover dead center. His ears were slightly ringing from the shriek of the blast, despite the sonic dampeners he had installed in his helmet. The giant felt the rush of air as he was flung backwards to the ground from the blast. His surroundings became a blur as he fell.
He groaned in pain when he hit the ground on his back. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to regain his composure as he gazed upon the dome overhead. He checked his vitals as he slowly stood up from the ground. He had a number of bruises light to moderate bruises on his back and legs, but other than that, he was fine.
The ringing in his ear lessened as shouting, gunfire and artillery drowned it out.
“Sarge! Sarge! Are you hurt!?” shouted Kohan as he sprinted towards The Mandalorian from the ruins to Kranak’s left to see if he was in a bad shape.
[“I’m alright.”] replied The Mandalorian quickly, while he reached for his blaster rifle suspended over his chestplate, thanks to the rifle’s sling. [“Is anyone hurt?”]
“The right flank, Sarge. It took out-”
[“How many, lad?”]
The rifleman paused for a moment. “Four, Sarge. Shan, Deonor, Garm, Junor. They’re…”
Kohan didn’t need to continue for the Ori'ramikad to understand what happened to them. They’ve sustained casualties.
[“We will mourn them when it is time. Secure their weapons and ammo. Pile them up in a safe spot, out of sight from Bryn. We’re gonna need all the ammo we can get for later.”]
Kohan nodded “Yes Sarge.” The rifleman sprinted towards the right flank to pick up the weapons and ammo from the fallen militiamen.
The Ruus’alor relayed the next set of orders for his platoon as he made his way back to his cover. [“I want all the firepower we got directed at whatever monstrosity responsible for this!”]
A moment later, every blaster rifle was pointed at the two Brumak on the Southwestern flank that engaged their position. The blaster rifles shrieked once more, sending volley after volley at the Brumak’s.
Going prone once more near the top of the large mound of rubble, the Ruus’alor was about to squeeze the trigger of his blaster rifle and join his platoon in trying to dispatch the Brumak’s, but he was stopped by an incoming transmission.
::I need a medic ASAP, we have a man down. Sending my coordinates.::
[“What the-”] he muttered to himself in disbelief. His HUD quickly brought up the coordinates relayed with the commlink transmission. It matched with the location of those friendlies on the Bryn’adûl side of the frontline in his sector!
He quickly responded to him over the commlink in a secure channel. [“This is Ruus’alor Kranak, I hear you loud and clear! Sit tight, we’re on our way to assist.”]
He changed his commlink circuit to that of the platoon’s after he spoke after he answered the plea for assistance. [“Corran, Ric, Adriean, Barlos and Dash! Regroup on me! The rest of you, continue firing down at those two hulking beasts,”] The Ruus’alor slid down the large mound and made his way to one of the nearby buildings to regroup with those he called for. [“Rena,”] The riflemen he called for were enroute to his position. They swiftly converged on his position, next to the ruins of a two storey building.
“Yes, Mando?” the Antarian Ranger responded.
[“You’re in charge until we get back.”]
“Roger that! You can count on me.”
The Platoon already knew where they were going, and their new objective. They’d heard the call for help, but he’d repeat it for those he picked one more time quickly regardless, to make sure they understood the situation.
[“Alright, so here’s what’s going down: We have a small number of friendlies on the wrong side of the frontlines in our sector. They’re alive and fighting for their lives at the moment, but they have casualties. We need to get them out of there in one piece and alive. In and out, okay?”] The Mandalorian paused for a moment, laying eyes on each of the riflemen around him before he continued. [“Do any of you need extra ammo? Now’s the time to get some.”]
“No, I think I’m good, Sarge.”
“Ready to roll out!”
“I’m good, sir.”
The other two simply shook their heads from side to side, answering the Ruus’alor’s question.
[“Very well. Follow my lead, lads.”] The Mandalorian made his way to his original position and peaked over the large mound of rubble towards the Bryn’adûl side of the frontline. The five riflemen followed suit.
There were still enemy movement on that side. This unplanned rescue mission would be an arduous one. But they had to help them. They were no longer under heavy fire for the time being, as well. This gave them some room to stretch their legs.
[“Okay, the coast is clear for now. I want five meters spacing between each of you. Keep your eyes on the Bryn side of the frontline as we move. On me, let’s move!”] With that, Kranak sprinted down from the large mound and towards the buildings reduced to ruins fifty meters to his front. They would be moving cover to cover to reach their point of interest.
His platoon overall would be communicating and coordinating with each other as they fought the Bryn’adûl horrors in the battle. They were surprisingly effective in battle, unexpectedly so from irregulars such as these men. Unknown to Kranak, he’d owe this effectiveness to Jairdain
efforts of bolstering their capabilities with her Battle Meditation.
[*]Elements of the 666th Mechanized Infantry Regiment enroute to reinforce Southwestern Position. Won't be in position until next post.
[/LIST]
Position came under heavy fire by Bryn'adûl forces in the form of retaliation upon entering the engagement.
Sustained five casualties throughout first engagement.
Ordered Troopers to secure weapons and ammunition from the fallen.
Returned concentrated fire at Two Brumak's shortly after taking casualties.
Picked up comms traffic of allies in distress in the Southwestern Sector on the Bryn'adûl's side of the frontline. A small fireteam of six (5 Militia Riflemen and the Platoon Sergeant, Kranak Vizsla) dispatched to extract the wounded.
Light and Iron heard a call at the behest of desperation. They answered with durasteel wedges that smote the skies above Sev Tok, carrying hope to illuminate the long night. A distinct, red, and chitinous plague encroached on Concord worlds. The only cure known to the galaxy came from the end of a barrel, and the lense of an emitter. Violence was often regrettable, but this was the exception. Where a hidden apprehension s and introspective search for a way around violence normally lie within Inosuke before a conflict, now there was only a numb certainty. It was the feeling one experienced when an unpleasant obligation must be fulfilled.
A cold deadpan heralded only silence during the advance to the besieged world, mirroring his accompanying sibling with every detail down to posture.
Must run in the family.
The anticipation may have almost been trancelike were in not for the intensity of impending strife. A hyperfocus on nothing and everything, present and future. Introspective brooding staved of the dread, denying every how, why, and what if any chance to surface and fester into doubt. Doubt was kin to hesitation. Hesitation kills.
Inosuke blinked, turned, and looked down toward his sister, almost incriminating himself as having been startled. When he got that deep into his own mind, his surroundings became an afterthought. With an armistice settled between himself and insidious what-ifs, he allowed himself to return to the outwardly conscious plane one must inhabit to articulate more than a listless grunt.
Slowly, a brow raised. "We shouldn't celebrate death, even if the slain are as reprehensible as the Bryn’adûl," he admonished. While he worried that reducing such things to a game would hinder her in taking this seriously enough to survive, he just couldn't help himself. He grinned, betraying the admonishment with the cocky expression of older kin being challenged by the younger. "Though I suspect I would outscore you twofold," he teased.
There was a subtle push, a moment of resistance as inertial compensators safely allowed the ship to decelerate out of hyperspace and into the egress of the Sev Tok system. Inosuke caught Ishida's prying glance, but his own dread had been staunched only moments earlier. He didn't allow himself room for it now.
"An obstacle. Directly where we're headed," he declared plainly. It would be a lie to say the dome wasn't more than a little disconcerting. A half-spherical, crimson monolith projected as a monument and nexus to the boundless suffering beneath. Disturbances rippled as lives en masse vacating presence and sending grating feedback to the spiritual senses.
"Are we clear to make landfall?" Inosuke had no desire to waste any more time.
POST: IV
LOCATION: Sev Tok atmosphere, the Epitaph, Infantry Bay
EQUIPMENT: Fireproof ceremonial Shaman robes
BEASTS UNDER PERSONAL CONTROL: TBD
ALLIES: THE BYRN | In vicinity of Primarch Drek'ma
| In less-close vicinity of Galak
/ Osam
/ Sethrak
/ Tathra Khaeus
ENEMIES: SJC & ALLIES | NPC Drones engaging Chasianna
| Open to engagement
The axe was now complete.
The massive phantom blade resembled a Cleaver Axe, but was nearly twenty times its size. With a thrust of his right arm, the weightless blade rocketed forwards, soaring about twenty meters into enemy lines. Then, the blade swung downwards, smashing into the ground and soldiers beneath. While the blade was a mere projection and lacked weight, the superheated energy it contained was all too real. Entire squads found themselves incinerated as the axe's blade slowly swung to the side, its energized blade leaving a great scar in the nearby dirt. Only after about a minute of slashes and smashes did Ostak dispell the projected axe, resuming his focus on command.
"Awaken the remaining Servitors, and assemble the Ra'maks!" ordered Ostak to the Shamen behind him. "The Wyrms shall be assigned to slip under enemy lines and approach their walls, destroying their foundations and causing them to collapse. The War Beasts will provide fire support, decimating the Concord ground forces and distracting their anti-aircraft from the Zealot Elites."
The Rhivaks, Brumaks, and Obaliscs were formidable beasts, large even by Draelvasier standards, with sturdy skin and powerful organic artillery. However, the surface-dwelling beasts were dwarfed by the terrors that began to lumber out of the Epitiaph.
A dozen Ra'mak War Beasts took flight, ascending dozens of meters above the ground. Their long armored forms, nearly as large as corvettes, were armed with several artillery-grade plasma cannons. Several hundred Drones mounted the various ridges and contours of the Ra'maks, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to leap down from the sky and tear through enemy lines. As the lumbering forms of the War Beasts passed the Draelvasier vanguard and began to fly over enemy lines, they opened fire on a wide swath of the hostile front line, the discharge of their plasma cannons briefly lighting up their silhouettes. At the same time, the Drones leapt down dozens of meters to the ground below, shrugging off broken bones as they targeted enemies indiscriminately.
About a dozen of the paradropped Drones found themselves enticed by a certain woman with glowing hands (Chasianna
), and rushed towards her, unarmed and unarmored but possessing razor-sharp claws and suicidal determination.
Following the War Beasts were the seven Writhing Servitors, dwarfing even their flying cousins. As soon as they slithered into an open space of sufficient size, they dove into the ground itself, its razor-sharp teeth easily slicing through the soft dirt. They descended as far underground as the Ra'maks ascended above ground, as to ensure that landmines would be a minimal issue. As much as they hungered for flesh, the tight mental reins of their Shaman masters kept them from surfacing and compromising their position. The seven Servitors fanned out in a five kilometer arc, all speeding towards enemy positions uninterrupted.
Or at least, they were currently interrupted.
The form of a floating Guardian made Ostak take a double take. He turned to find the Primarch personally lifting the great beast, as to plant it in a place where its burrowing would not cause the earth around the Epitapth to collapse. It was a bold move, yet one that Ostak also knew could be greatly straining for even the most powerful of Shamen.
"Idiot." muttered Ostak, taking on the tone of an annoyed guardian figure as he jogged over to the Primarch, adding some of his own energy to facilitate the lifting of the massive worm, moving to be close to his powerful but mortal superior even as the Guardian he almost singlehandedly lifted was dropped into the earth.
Summary of Actions:
Ra'mak War Beasts bombard hostile front line with cannons and paradrop Drones into Concord lines.
Servitors establish themselves underground.
Ostak assists the Primarch in moving his Guardian and moves to be closer to him to support the Primarch in combat.
"Listen, you!" Darth Xiphos said on her comlink, ducking a spray of molten bullets in the distance. "If The Bryn'adul take this city, those Civilians are dead anyway. That shield MUST be disabled. You MUST fire! Only overwhelming force will stop them! What would you rather have?! A dead city that can be repopulated, or The Bryn'adul poised to take Kashyyyk?! ORDER THE FIRE MISSION!"
"Black Knight, you are out of line. You have no clearance to be ordering There is no use in spending ammo in firing barrages at this shield dome. Nothing has cracked it so far, and most likely nothing will. My guess is that it can only be deactivated from the inside. I'll be sending some reinforcements your way. But other than that, you're own your own, Black Knight. If you require assistance, I can have my Ops teams be on your position shortly. Red, out." Red said into his commlink. Then, Red heard the voice of Heavenshield come back through.
"All commanders, regardless of allegiance, deploy your troops and engage the enemy on all fronts. Be brave. Be merciless. This is no longer a fight to defend this world, but every world. The future of the galaxy as a whole will be shaped by our actions here this day. Special Officer Red, find that weapon. We'll decide what to do with it once it's secure. Heavenshield, out."
"Solid copy on all. We'll find that weapon, and secure and contain it. I'll have Black Ops roam the dome, have them look for it. Epsilon-11, out." Red said on his commlink.
Then, behind Red, he heard loud clanging noises. He turned around and looked. Behind him, 3 walkers, surrounded by militia infantry, were headed past them, headed for the fighting.
"Hey Corporal, where are you going?" Red asked one of the soldiers walking alongside the walkers.
The Militia soldier looked at Red. "We're headed for the front to try and bolster our friendly lines. The Bryn'adul are starting to push forward." The Corporal told Red.
"Mind if we tag along?"
"Not at all, er- sir." The Militia member said, confused by Red's distinct lack of any markings on his armor.
Red turned towards the Sergeant and the Operative. Two more Operatives had joined them, bolstering up their numbers.
"Well, let's head out. No point in waiting. They are counting on us, after all." Red said. And with that, he ran over to the walkers, and climbed on top of one, enjoying the ride to the fighting.
Securing the bomb was the easy part, the hard part was gonna be either extracting it or using it.
But then again, Red's work was rarely easy. It was all part of the fun, after all.
The crackling contortion of Vedkar's arm rippled through him. A dose of exhaustion eradicating his balance, before he fell backwards. The Quilxyn had been disrupted to their full capacity, some orbs lying in wait for another form of reserve. The tall Ashaka hoped he wouldn't need to erect another dome, the searing pain from the practice alone cause him to wince. Mid fall, hands graced him, Yek Trell catching him before he crashed into the cold floor of the Epitaph's core. Neither said a word, the thick layer of the red aura expanding as they watched with wicked eyes. Vedkar knew he could do it, he just needed a big enough catalyst. The only thing he hadn't accounted for is how vulnerable it made his body. He hunched over, catching a breath. He felt tired, but worse his left hand felt numb. The power it took to preform such a protective barrier with a one-way entry...was difficult. Still, he felt proud, any weaver capable of such strength in the Ashaka arts would have been too.
Vedkar tried to correct his stance, but before he once again stood tall his eyes examined the floor. The sight only that of death. He let out a sigh of regret, but in truth their sacrifices were necessary. Stiff and opaque, the core was now littered with dead Quilxyn. It seemed the toll it took on the Ashaka Battlemasters body, was far worse for the conduit. His back straightened, slowly admiring his work. The crimson bubble continued to grow, trapping all enemy forces within its clutches.
"You..did it." Yek Trell said, his face that of amazement. "He sure did, but we got a problem." Alkmet spoke up, returning from her expedition on the other end of the Epitaph's open section. "We got enemy forces hunkered down, word is they got a few snipers. Taking out any of us that move." (Aien Mueller) "What about the other Battlemasters?" Vedkar asked, his voice dry and carrying a scratchy tone. "Some are already positioned behind cover, taking out any in the area..." Yek Trell paused, the real glaring issue relayed by the proximity detectors. "This can't be right!?" "What's going on now?" Alkmet asked, her scars slipping into the crease of her mouth as she talked. "Someone is on the other end of the ship, but underneath us!"(Aien Mueller) "Kill them Yek. We can't let them disturb the Seer." Vedkar stopped, his head snapping to Alkmet. "Go with him, remember...will it into existence child."
Yek Trell rushed to the other end of the small corridor from the core room, bypassing a few Ashaka Fate Weavers guarding the inner sanctum of the Epitaph's walls. They would be able to protect Vedkar and the Seer, long enough before the two Battlemasters would return. So, he hoped.
Alkmet followed in tow, careful not to let her nervous heart dictate what was about to transpire. She watched as the Aeravalin Mage ahead of her ripped metal beams of verikast upward, the steel shimmer gleaming under the top-light. He discarded it quickly and in the mere seconds he turned to her, Yek Trell fell through the bottom, his robe catching the jagged edges. The black and white cloth lingered in the breeze of night, she peered over the waving attire that once hung on that of Yek Trell's shoulders. The gap revealing a darkened haze of blaster fire and molten shells zinging by. She'd only been in training for a few months, but her lack of confidence began to sink in. She hesitated, then with a deep growl, she jumped.
When Alkmet landed, she scanned the area for Yek Trell, but nothing. Her violet eyes found something else entirely, a Quilxyn. The bright red chamber of its back gave her heart warmth, she almost forgot it had been riding on her shoulder the entire time. She admired the tiny orb for only a moment before stretching her arm out to greet it. She already could feel the ironic notion in her mind about the situation. Still, it made her think of Sylok. He was relying on her, now in this very moment. She couldn't remain in training forever. Alkmet slammed her fist against her chest, shaking her head as she anxiously amped herself up. Her eyes met with that of the demolition's expert on the back side of the ship, just beneath beams holding the Epitaph laggardly in place. She washed away all thoughts, the force greeting her before she began to carefully close the gap, one voice replaying in her head.
remember...will it into existence child.
Sylok came to a resounding halt, the debris breaking from his still weight. Pieces of once great fortified stone crumbling into nothing more than dust. The sharp twinge of ruthless power in the force tore through him. An immense vibrant red, molded into a dome that swallowed him as he passed through it. The threading yank of the magical structure brought him pride, Vedkar had done it. He knew not the cost in exchange for such protection, but the Xenophage weapons of their enemies would no longer deter him from protecting those in need. Sylok grinned, his teeth sliding like they always did. The hazy distribution of heavy gunfire and explosions still within the confines of the crimson tide, seemed to be concentrated around one area, a small ruined courtyard south west of the Epitaph. Sylok looked to the large Burrower, he had to entrust its protection to the others, he was needed below with his brothers and sisters. In reality, he told himself as such, but his heart pounded with a different truth.
Revenge.
He remembered Sarka, but never forgot Keldothera
. The Aeravalin had lost so much, but in exchange it gave him an emotional and logical form of strength. A rare mix of the two that encapsulated his ability to call on the soft threads of the force to be woven, such as a weaver does. Still, his heart yearned for the general's old commands. They would never come, this he knew. Instead, he focused on the battle below, the enemy forces intersecting from all divided directions, each met with a wall of forces under the command of the lingering, newly appointed Warlord, Osam
. Sylok had fought with him only once before, on the front line of their excursion on Ylesia. Even then, they had yet to form a bond. Although, in many cases to Sylok's defense; he was an Ashaka. It meant being fairly distant from the front lines of war. That excuse was no longer needed, Sylok had developed wholesomely in the art to control the elements. Despite that, the Risen and Weaver never had the pleasure. It would change.
The Aeravalin mage stepped at the edge of the hill, rock and rubble trailing down the entire way. he took note of the quickest route and proceeded. He was smaller than most Aeravalin and in the dead of night he would be harder to see than most as he approached the South West sector. Streaming bullets flew passed and in the momentary lapse of confusion was thrown backwards from a ricocheting blast. Shrapnel followed as he slammed into a nearby wall, the weight of his impact forcing more debris to cascade behind him. Shards of metal came in a blazing torrent, digging deep into the Weaver's shoulder. A putrid blue splashed outward from the sudden stabs. The tiny pieces of stinging metal were tucked under his already broke carapace on his right side. Of course, nothing was simple.
His vision re-calibrated from the pressure he took to the head. The moments he lost his whereabouts he watched as the Risen cross by, letting out a groan. His left arm reached for the fresh wound, the blood finally turning to a deep wine from exposure. Sylok's sharp claws tested the wound, a sudden jolt of pain stretching to his back as he pressed against his shoulder.
Not good.
He contested the area a little more and before his logical choice to rip them out, he considered leaving them be. No, he would do it quickly, aiding himself. His teeth clenched and as the first tip of his two nails began to plunge into the open wound, tiny spikes of cold steel left his under-layered tendon. The bone felt bruised, almost damaged. He tried to lift his arm, but it was evident one last piece remained as he let out a seething reaction. When he was finished with the extraction, they would all pay for it. Sylok looked at his fingers, the droopy liquid of his own life force staining his robe. He hated when that happened. Finally, with another deep effort his finger slipped into the gash, the warmth of his innards forcing his lengthy finger to curl, the pain almost unbearable as he squirmed. Then, like a click of a lighter, his nail tapped the hidden culprit. He lifted the small alloy killer and tossed it, words of hate spoken under his breath.
He bent his legs, getting to his feet as he utilized his good arm to push off the ground. Sylok sneered, the wound wouldn't remain for long. His left arm bent inward, his palm resting over the nasty entry point of the invasive cut. Sylok could feel them, the threads of the force that bound everything together. Swirls of orange tickled his presence and a soothing remedy bore fruit. Small residual strings of the force stitched him, closing the bloody laceration. The left palm retreated from its medical fixing and Sylok took a deep breath, he cranked his right arm, no pain.
Only seconds after his moment of victory for himself, he felt a disturbance. (Yula Perl
& Dagon Kaze
) It seemed, the walls of the crimson prison were far more superior than he considered. Its creation was part of the force, more so, the bond of his fellow Ashaka had created it. Thus he could sense when others came through, he assumed only in close proximity. Regardless, trouble was on the way, whether he liked it or not.
Before rushing to Osam's aide, Sylok looked up, the same Quilxyn had kept up with him through everything so far. One word left him in a whisper...
"Wayseeker, sentinel, it doesn't matter the name or the degree of separation; we belong to the galaxy and its people, everywhere you walk is home, every person who welcomes you, touched by the force nor not, are your people."
"If you consider yourself a Jedi, then protect your people, not just the people who want you; and protect where you belong, not just the places that recognize you to be theirs. And, when you're feeling lonely, remember that the force is always with you, and with it is all of the souls in the stars and all that ever were and ever will be. You're never alone - we're never alone."
It had only been days since she'd spoke those words of encouragement to Kir Dantos
. So much had happened since then, so much had changed - both for her and the galaxy at large, what with the return of weapons of mass destruction not seen in centuries and the uniting of Sith elements in the Unknown Regions. Like a tuk'ata to blood, the Bryn'adul saw their opportunity to lunge and took it, launching a strike against the Silvers when the galaxy was simultaneously least prepared and most willing to unite against a common foe. Imperial and Jedi, Sith and Mandalorian - the warmongering, bloodthirsty, genocidal culture from the edge of the galactic disc threatened them all on a level that none of the others could hope to pose on their own.
She'd never set foot on Sev Tok before, not until the distress call had rang out, and she did not know its people, nor they she, but they were just as much her people as the Chiss had been on Csilla in their hour of need. Tensions were too high in Anvil to land directly in the city, and just beyond its walls approached the Bryn'adul like locusts, leaving the outskirts of the city's wall as the only position Elle could make landfall to disembark.
The battle was already well underway when she'd reached the area that held the bulk of Bryn forces, an unfortunate testament to the distance she'd needed to keep in order to safely land upon her arrival on Sev Tok, but it seemed the Bryn had still not yet managed to breach Anvil's walls. Darting beneath the rocky outcroppings like a shadow, owed to her training as an acolyte, the force guided Elle towards another gifted with the force - one she presumed to be a Jedi given the circumstances and his relative bright presence in the force - and a company gathered around them. Arctus Silmar
might've counted himself lucky for his disguise if he knew who approached - despite belonging to the Jedi, Elle had found her way to the light by deserting the very Empire he held power in. As fate was often wont to do, the rogue Jedi was not alone in her approach; Hrajlmak'Natok
, too, had set his sights on Arctus.
Whoever supported the troops with their Battle Meditation should be blessed. The Paladins of the Rim-Guard were unshakeable in their will to hold. The new tide of enemies emerged, more and stronger than before, outnumbering the golden warriors by several times. Yet they stood their ground, yet the price was rising and with every moment the High Imperator saw icons of his brethren vanishing. They could push against the wave, but if they stayed, they would be overrun.
Ecthelion beheaded one of the creatures as he gave new orders. The decision was not easy, but without proper reinforcements, there was no advance and not even holding. He knew they were on their way, but risking to wait was not an option, swallowing a bit of pride and falling back a few streets was.
"Fall back to crossing CB-12, moving move, overlapping fire arcs. Second wave, deploy all around the dome and move in, use the houses and give elevated fire-support, Dreadnoughts to my position. Third wave, deploy to the same square as we did. Over and out."
The information given by Heavenshield wasn´t really helpful at all, whoever put a nuclear weapon in the middle of a city should be flogged and hanged right away, such nonsense could only be done by mindless mercenaries. Why would any defender attempt to use a nuclear charge? Scorched earth? Wouldn´t make sense to fight at all then. Fethheads.
"Rim-Guard to all forces, the enemy is pushing spearheaded by their leader with a pack of warbeasts. Increase the pressure where they are not, reinforcements are underway."
The retreat was all but easy, but his men were doing well. Always in contact with the enemy while one unit retreated and the other gave fire-support. The master of the Rim-Guard himself was always the last, directly in touch with the enemy, his blue lightsaber cutting through limbs and bodies like a blue shadow too difficult to see with bare eyes. The appearance of the huge space dragon was a moment of hesitation, it was not directly heading here, but someone would need to take care of it.
✠ ✠ ✠
The second and third wave of the Rim-Guard were making their planetfall. The assault landers were once again bringing in the remaining paladins, nearly six-hundred more warriors of the First Generation. The original landing area was by now not accessible anymore without being trapped into the red dome, but the order was clear and with low speed they entered the dome. Dozens of landers went down, tall golden figures marching out in perfect formation as they assembled, not awaiting further orders but directly advancing to the front.
Cohorts of Skytroopers were being deployed all around the red dome, falling from the clouds and then using their jetpacks to get into position, directly entering the dome and moving from roof to roof, using their elevated position and firepower to support those in the streets or contest the little air-space in the dome. Several thousand Skytroopers slowly progressed onward, like hand clenching to a fist.
The last part of reinforcements were the wardroids, walkers which were deployed to directly move to the positions of the High Imperator. These walkers were now stalking onward, three times three. The dreadnoughts were equipped with very heavy weapons and could offer a counter to the densely packed masses of enemies in the city, dominating the streets. Along with the Concord forces, the Rim-Guard Order was showing now all its might and devotion to fight the Bryn'adûl.
Action Overview:
Rim-Guard first wave falls back under heavy pressure
Skytroopers deployed on all elevated positions around the dome, moving and giving fire support to those on the streets
Rim-Guard third wave advance to positions of first wave
Djonas Val
and his partner
Saaveina
were here, too.
Jairdain
's tether through the ethereal. The benevolent Force, Ashla, answered washing away the terror and steeling his nerves, infusing him with the strength to persevere through this earthly tribulation.
Michael Sardun
had once told him and he echoed it to his partner.
Yula Perl
Sylok'Vanari
