Location: S0616
Objective: Destroy Selectivist Airbase
Allies: The Techno Union, [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Adekos"] | [member="Jemmila Kyrgen"] | [member="Cractius Stretus"] | [member="Vrag"] | [member="Kiran Vess"]
Enemies: Selectivist Scum, [member="Nyos Val"] | [member="Tionne Thanewulf"] | [member="Tugoro Taidarious"] | [member="Thane Drexel"] | [member="Blane Nightfall"]
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NPC
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Personal Equipment:
"Well," grunted the cetacean Sith Lord, "That is thorough."
Orcus witnessed the firepower of the fully
armed and
operational Techno Union... and smiled. A motion more chilling than reassuring, all wide lips and large, conical teeth. The withering fire from Adekos' tanks did not leave any room for argument. A paltry two hundred troops opposed them in the field, perhaps more, perhaps less. It was simply immaterial. Rocket fire from a new rebel unit that had entered the field pounded briefly against the shields of one of the tanks, before it was abruptly silenced by an answering typhoon wall of hot shells, large and small, from rail guns and auto cannons.
Ever tried to aim and launch a shoulder launched rocket? Orcus had. Even in the relative stress-free zone of a firing range it was a hard task. Factor in bombardment from rail guns that could rip apart your cover, hailstorms of half-inch bullets - one of which alone was sufficient to tear through body armor like candy wrapping - and aiming and firing a heavy launcher was an unappealing, if not outright suicidal act.
Orcus gestured to his MA-1 Troopers and had them pull back to the middle of the mechanized company. Adding in beskar armored Herglics with deflector shields and light repeaters seemed unnecessary. For now.
The blood from his wound had begun to congeal. He focused on the pain, letting it flow through him, reminding him of the pain that millions of beings felt across the galaxy, their lives in chaos because of rebels like these. Rebels who didn't understand how to build. Only destroy. Give them a government and what would they do? Something akin to the Forceless Future Society, no doubt. Begin executing Force users. Lashing out fearfully at any remnants of 'imperialism'. Oh, they would call it democracy, or freedom. Mere words, full of air and nothing more. Economic upheaval. Slums. Bankruptcy. Those were things people understood, but not in concepts related to this war. Yes, put the rebels in charge and the economy would rest at the bottom of the ocean in a month. Suicide rates would skyrocket. Their rebuilding efforts would be stalled because of their inexperience and inefficiency with running a government. And because their experience in dealing with corporations could only be related in terms of "high yield ordnance." People would suffer for it.
Petty, vindictive fools.
Orcus watched fools of another kind break out of the Techno Union formation and run into the fray, attempting to engage the rebels in melee. He recognized one of the figures. A tall, androgynous armored form, with a blade in hand. Hmm, One Sith.
Vrag. She was welcome to whatever blood she could take, including her own if she kept wading into the midst of allied tank fire. Alas, friendly fire was all too-often a reality on the battlefield. Orcus saw another shape break off, this one wielding vibroblades. What was that individual's name? He'd seen it on the roster. Craktus? Stretius? Something to that effect.
The lack of consideration and situational awareness was appalling... and it was weakness. Weakness needed to be eliminated.
On second thought, he
did think that twenty-five beskar armored Herglics were necessary. He issued orders in his booming bass.
"Open fire, over there."
Their heads turned toward him, briefly, but they obeyed without question. Twenty BTI-Reaver light repeaters unleashed a tidal wave on the rebels below the ridge... and on the unwitting friendlies who might just so happen to get in the way. Thousands of crimson lancets hissed out angrily, their high whines coming in swift succession. He wondered idly if they would reach tone.
Meanwhile, in the skies above, the cloud car pilots contented themselves by breaking off, circling back to the southern ridge, and setting up for a head-on pass as they watched the speedy little bomber attempt to take make a sharp turn. Attempt being the operable word, since the model of star bomber in question, though fast, could ask a Reek for lessons on taking a corner.
While the rebel banked lazily around, the Sky Patrol pilots had already acquired target-lock. They each fired a concussion missile, which, as the bogey had already used up his chaff countermeasures, seemed likely to turn the star bomber into a blossoming ball of flame. As if to punctuate their attack, they also opened fire with their laser cannons, presumably in order to make sure whatever wreckage that was left over from the blast didn't survive.
All at once, the scream of incoming star craft split the air, heard even above the din of battle below. Orcus's eyes widened at the nearing craft and continued to do so as their bellies disgorged a rain of thermal detonators. He watched as Adekos' actions dealt with a significant portion, enough so that they all didn't become a smoking crater in the ground. Orcus thought he should make doubly sure.
"HAUUUUUM!"
A short shockwave emanated from his opened maw and rippled forth, ripping apart thermal detonators while in mid-air and setting off a chain-reaction. It wasn't enough.
Detonators sprinkled the mechanized Techno Union force and erupted into flame. The MA-1 troopers stumbled, a few fell. None seemed seriously injured, though their spread of fire had been disrupted. The duraplast armor of the ancient Republic Commandos was enough to stop grenade blasts and their beskar armor was a step up from that. Most of them had activated their personal deflector shields by now.
Orcus was about to breathe a sigh of relief when a latent detonator fell at the feet of one of the troopers. These detonators were massive, the size of a human skull and packed so full of baradium that the subsequent blast scooped out a half-doom chunk from the earth. Orcus could only watch as his fellow Herglic was vaporized in a white-hot fireball. The Sith Lord lifted a flipper and squinted to blot out the searing light and ward away the heat. He was rewarded with a spattering of hot beskar shards and a drizzle of the trooper's innards. The air stank of cooking blubber.
Dappled in the blood of one of his own, Orcus glowered, black eyes filled with consuming hatred.
"Keep firing!" He bellowed, and the troopers resumed their butchery.
Losses:
-x1 MA-1 Trooper
