Alkor Centaris
Son of Liberty
"Tch."
The whelp was little more than a distraction. Alkor let the blade slither away and clipped it to his belt once more as the clone- or whatever it was- stood up in pained defiance and bleated its bravado. This was not even entertainment. To kill someone not infected by the Sith contagion would reflect badly on anyone who saw the evidence. Compounded by the fact tbat this boy seemed to portray the signs of an errant Jedi, Alkor hardly could blame him for considering a pylon of darkness to be his enemy. Still, he could not be allowed to casually challenge people to fights and threaten their lives. He would need to learn restraint, and Alkor doubted that his words would reach through the righteous anger that burned all around this youth.
The breath left his lips slowly as the would-be lightsider ignited his blade anew. Alkor reached back and his fingertips grazed over the weapon slung across his back. With a low beep, the biometrics registered him and the mag lock freed the hidden death dealer at his back. When he let his arm fall to one side, the barrel nearly grazed the street. "You have one chance to surrender," the Jen'jidai told the boy. "Don't make me baptize this gun with your blood."
Internal mechanisms chattered as the carbine clicked and decompressed. Its energy cells burned a cool blue color as they fed a charge to the coil and the rounds slid into firing position. His thumb flicked the setting and switched over from three-round burst to semi-automatic. While it fired a much more erratically charged round, the function was more akin to a slugthrower than a full-on railgun. Instead of punching straight through and continuing on a forward path, the Sithslaughter Carbine had been designed specifically for stopping power.
While several different varieties of round were still in development, Alkor had enough slugs for this little fight and possibly five more just like it.
"This is a warzone. Evacuate, or else."
[member="Little Romeo Sin"]
The rail rounds slammed into several droids and ripped clean through. The self healing metal shivered and reacted, but it would realistically take longer for the damage to be undone considering the nature of a Mass Driver Cannon. Still it was nothing incredibly damning, and the SD-10 Droids seemed to take no notice at all. The massive droids were brutally efficient at soaking up a beating.
To fire on the X-1s without dealing with them first would end the same way. The SD-10s would ultimately still end up as meatshields.
In fact, when the salvo of concussion missiles headed in their direction, their advanced targeting protocols defined the threat and reacted immediately. With their mounted heavy repeating blasters, they fired on the projectiles in mid-flight, and debris mixed with smoke swept across the battlefield. It obscured visibility and left the frontline of both sides without much else to work with. This gave other units on the Balmorran side a screen behind which to maneuver. It also rendered any signal the probe droids intended to send, barring thermal readings, infrared, or ultraviolet effectively blind.
In short, the troopers and droids on the enemy side were working with whatever they could see with what their tech afforded them, and little else.
The X-1s sent another volley into the ranks of their opponent, still trained on the same position. If the troopers broke and scattered it might save them from fire on the level with a capital ship's turbolaser, twenty-fold. However, the raw kinetic blast and the heat would be enough to pulverize most infantry, before or after it incinerated them.
At least, that was the intention.
"Sir, I have lived on Balmorra for most of my life," Phaygus replied as the panic and chaos reigned. "And at no point has this planet ever had a need to shore up an army, let alone one manned by sellswords. Balmorran Arms has afforded the defenses of its patron system since the time of the Old Republic, and barring a few hundred years where we weren't conducting business nothing about that has changed. There are men who you can tell lies like that to, but unlike them, I was not born yesterday."
Illyns drew deeply on his cigarra and savored the sweet poison, then exhaled a plume of black smoke. "Vaporize them."
[member="Krayzen Dratos"]
The whelp was little more than a distraction. Alkor let the blade slither away and clipped it to his belt once more as the clone- or whatever it was- stood up in pained defiance and bleated its bravado. This was not even entertainment. To kill someone not infected by the Sith contagion would reflect badly on anyone who saw the evidence. Compounded by the fact tbat this boy seemed to portray the signs of an errant Jedi, Alkor hardly could blame him for considering a pylon of darkness to be his enemy. Still, he could not be allowed to casually challenge people to fights and threaten their lives. He would need to learn restraint, and Alkor doubted that his words would reach through the righteous anger that burned all around this youth.
The breath left his lips slowly as the would-be lightsider ignited his blade anew. Alkor reached back and his fingertips grazed over the weapon slung across his back. With a low beep, the biometrics registered him and the mag lock freed the hidden death dealer at his back. When he let his arm fall to one side, the barrel nearly grazed the street. "You have one chance to surrender," the Jen'jidai told the boy. "Don't make me baptize this gun with your blood."
Internal mechanisms chattered as the carbine clicked and decompressed. Its energy cells burned a cool blue color as they fed a charge to the coil and the rounds slid into firing position. His thumb flicked the setting and switched over from three-round burst to semi-automatic. While it fired a much more erratically charged round, the function was more akin to a slugthrower than a full-on railgun. Instead of punching straight through and continuing on a forward path, the Sithslaughter Carbine had been designed specifically for stopping power.
While several different varieties of round were still in development, Alkor had enough slugs for this little fight and possibly five more just like it.
"This is a warzone. Evacuate, or else."
[member="Little Romeo Sin"]
*******
The rail rounds slammed into several droids and ripped clean through. The self healing metal shivered and reacted, but it would realistically take longer for the damage to be undone considering the nature of a Mass Driver Cannon. Still it was nothing incredibly damning, and the SD-10 Droids seemed to take no notice at all. The massive droids were brutally efficient at soaking up a beating.
To fire on the X-1s without dealing with them first would end the same way. The SD-10s would ultimately still end up as meatshields.
In fact, when the salvo of concussion missiles headed in their direction, their advanced targeting protocols defined the threat and reacted immediately. With their mounted heavy repeating blasters, they fired on the projectiles in mid-flight, and debris mixed with smoke swept across the battlefield. It obscured visibility and left the frontline of both sides without much else to work with. This gave other units on the Balmorran side a screen behind which to maneuver. It also rendered any signal the probe droids intended to send, barring thermal readings, infrared, or ultraviolet effectively blind.
In short, the troopers and droids on the enemy side were working with whatever they could see with what their tech afforded them, and little else.
The X-1s sent another volley into the ranks of their opponent, still trained on the same position. If the troopers broke and scattered it might save them from fire on the level with a capital ship's turbolaser, twenty-fold. However, the raw kinetic blast and the heat would be enough to pulverize most infantry, before or after it incinerated them.
At least, that was the intention.
"Sir, I have lived on Balmorra for most of my life," Phaygus replied as the panic and chaos reigned. "And at no point has this planet ever had a need to shore up an army, let alone one manned by sellswords. Balmorran Arms has afforded the defenses of its patron system since the time of the Old Republic, and barring a few hundred years where we weren't conducting business nothing about that has changed. There are men who you can tell lies like that to, but unlike them, I was not born yesterday."
Illyns drew deeply on his cigarra and savored the sweet poison, then exhaled a plume of black smoke. "Vaporize them."
[member="Krayzen Dratos"]
