Invasion The Eleventh Hour | BotM Invasion of NIO held Noris and Sharb

[The Mongrel]

Location: Noris, outskirts of Fortification Belisarius
Allies: Keilara Kala'myr | Subject 54 Havoc | Erion Justeene | Romund Sro
Darth Kalyptos | Darth Ptolemis | Khamul Kryze | Electra-12 | Darth Saevius
Foes: DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Murraea Pharo | Ivan Sienar | Morrow | Jalter Volff | Mav Ryburn | Kinoan
TK-8867 | Anith Dorce | Frajan Borjar | Gavyn Berand | Greven Astor | Aerys Myrrine
Enemy Commander: Lord General Robert Dris ( Melvain Braxis )

Spoiler: TL;DR

• The walker attack hits resistance from Imperial walkers and bombers
• However, with no new forces deployed against them, most of them hit the wall
  • They exploit the artillery damage and blow gaps into the fortifications
  • All Mawite walkers either detonate against the walls or go down fighting
• Scav Kings anchor a new infantry advance among the Moon Children
  • Each one uses a squad shield to protect a small group of Tarar warriors
  • These groups head for the trenches, attacking with plasma guns and heavy weapons
• The Mongrel's overstretched mind struggles to endure three different realities

Evidently The Mongrel's walker attack had succeeded in taking the Imperial forces by surprise. Watching their lines from afar, the warlord saw no rearrangement of forces to counter them whatsoever - no deployment of anti-tank weapons, no additional vehicles moved in to intercept them, no calling in of airstrikes or artillery barrages directed against them. The unending horde of Moon Children rushing the trenches seemed to still hold the enemy's attention. Perhaps their commander was presently too overwhelmed to adjust his tactics.

Or perhaps the beleaguered Imperials had no forces to spare.

The biggest threat to the Mawite walker charge was the smattering of enemy walkers, similarly-patterned bipedal vehicles. The Mongrel could not make out their precise armaments from this distance, but their armor enabled them to survive a lot more than a squishy infantry squad. The Raider Walkers he had deployed to support the wall-breachers were anti-infantry pattern, so that armor was by far the most difficult obstacle they had to overcome. The Psycho-pattern walkers could sprint over trenches that kept out the savage clone hordes...

... but they could be prematurely detonated by enemy walkers.

So the Mawite infantry support walkers focused their fire. Giving up on barraging the trenches and ramparts, they poured chaingun bolts and grenade volleys into the Imperial scout transports. It wasn't an ideal match-up; even combined, it took no small amount of time for their weapons - designed for shredding organic targets - to breach the enemy's protection. Many Mawite walkers would be lost in the process, for they were among the enemy trenches now, and exposed to attack from all angles. But they didn't have to kill to win.

They just had to get the Psycho walkers through.

There was a moment when The Mongrel thought the whole assault might falter, that he might have to go back to the drawing board with his tactics. It was the moment that Jalter Volff and his wingmate began their bombing run, concussion bombs ripping into the advancing Mawite force in an impressive display of precision munition strikes. Several Psycho-pattern walkers burst under the onslaught, only their careful spacing preventing a chain reaction that might have taken down the whole line. But then the Mawite air support came in.

With Electra-12 in the air, those bombers were in dire danger.

And so the ground assault regained momentum.

Boom. Boom. Boom. With the enemy walkers distracted by incoming fire and no other anti-armor defenses deployed, the Psycho-pattern walkers began detonating against the walls of FOB Belisarius. If it had been just these impacts, then the mighty fortifications would have held - scarred and blackened, perhaps, but intact. But it wasn't just the walkers. Subject 54 Havoc 's intense artillery bombardment had come first, softening up the heavy defenses, putting cracks into the reinforced masonry that were now being struck directly.

The butter had been heated, softened. Now it was being cut.

With each explosion, a huge plume of dust - and a titanic burst of shrapnel, both jagged masonry fragments and white-hot metal shards - flew in all directions, covering the nearest trenches and the area just inside the fortifications in a choking grey cloud and a quick storm of deadly debris. Few of the breaches extended all the way through the walls, which had been well-built to resist such attacks... but if the Maw managed to get right up to the walls, they would be enough. The damage to the ramparts would severely disrupt their defenders.

But that was it for the Mawite walkers. Their part was done. They fell.

Now the infantry had to follow up their gains.

They couldn't do it with hordes alone, of course. That was what the Imperials had expected and prepared for, the reason they had brought their rapid-fire and area-attack weapons to cut down seething masses of Moon Children and tribesmen before they could overrun the trenches. But as always, those who expected nothing but a wild mass of insane barbarians underestimated the Brotherhood. "Scav Kings," The Mongrel commanded, "forward! Scour their trenches. Push them back against the shattered remains of their own wall."

The Scav Kings were the most elite soldiers of the Scar Hounds tribe, salvagers and engineers as much as warriors. Each and every one of them had built a custom battleframe from the scavenged pieces of enemy vehicles and armored troops, no two of them quite alike. They all, however, bristled with heavy weapons. Armored, shielded, and devastatingly armed, they moved across the battlefield like tiny vehicles unto themselves... and the squad shields they deployed allowed them to act as anchor points for the whole advance.

So while the endless insane clone posse threw themselves at the trenches, feeling nothing but mindless hate and eternal pain until the moment the Imperial firing line ended their lives, pockets of more organized troops were moving up among them. Beneath each narrow squad shield bubble came a small group of Tarar warriors, clustered around the Scav King at their center like mynocks flitting about a starship. When they dropped into the trenches, the enemy would face not tooth and claw, but barrages of plasma and heavy weapons.

The real Scar Hound advance was now underway.

​

You're not coming undone, she told him, holding him gently.

Your mind is beginning to heall!

~ But we can't, ~ Kallan said, feeling his heart twist at the words. ~ We can't heal, can we? If the Taskmaster sees what's happening inside me, if he realizes that Kallan is alive and awake, if he realizes that you are more loyal to me than to the Maw... ~ He trailed off. He didn't have to finish the thought; Keilara would know what he meant. What he was becoming could not coexist with what he currently was. He could not be Kallan, capable of empathy and love, while also being The Mongrel, the monster who burned the galaxy.

Rely on me, she told him. Together we can solve everything. But although he loved her, although he trusted her, Kallan knew that what she'd said wasn't true. Not this time. He was what they had made him, The Mongrel, the warlord of the Scar Hounds. There was nowhere in the galaxy he could hide from that... and he did not deserve to be able to walk away. How many innocent people were dead because of him? How many lives ruined? Keilara herself was one of his countless victims. She had suffered terribly, all because of him.

And he didn't know how to stop. He didn't have that kind of control.

The fetters of the Brotherhood were still strong.

So what would happen to him? Once he had feared that Mercy would make him weak... and in a way, he had been right. She was reawakening parts of him long-buried, and those parts of him were weak in the eyes of the Maw. They were the parts of him that felt grief and regret and guilt and empathy, all the things that The Mongrel could not afford to feel. He was supposed to feel that everything he did was justified, for it would all lead to a better universe, the paradise of the Galaxy To Come. But his faith was being shaken now.

Without his conviction, he would become weak.

In his mind, cages crumbled. Kallan, the other Kallan, and Ziare tumbled together. Ouch, she said, and he went to comfort her. ~ Are you okay? ~ he asked, extending a hand to help her to her feet. His mind swam. Where was he? Which me was he now? As the bonds that the Taskmaster had forged around his mind strained and cracked, he felt his consciousness breaking along with them. Not now, he thought desperately, not here! If he fell apart in the middle of this battle, if he showed weakness, they were both going to die.

In his mind, Kallan flickered. Like a ghost his image faded in and out, changing each time. Sometimes he appeared as The Mongrel, a towering mass of metal, utterly inhuman. Sometimes he was Kallan, just Kallan, the gentle speeder mechanic, half-remembered; it had been so long since he'd seen his own face that his features changed a little each time they reappeared, for he couldn't fully recall what he was supposed to look like. Sometimes he was Kallan, but with bits of The Mongrel in him, cold metal overlapping with warm skin.

Like a drowning man reaching for a life preserver, he groped for reality.

"Yes," he managed to say, back on the battlefield of Noris. "That is... acceptable. Come, Keil... Mercy. We will monitor your sensors from the command tent." The Mongrel turned away from watching the front lines, his steps unsteady, and stumbled toward the tent at the Mawite landing zone. Weak. Pathetic. He was struggling even to walk, for his mind was so far away from the real world that it was hard for it to control his real limbs. ~ Help me, ~ he begged Mercy, even as in his mind he helped Ziare up. ~ Help me get inside. ~

In his mind, at the door of the house he had built, he collapsed.

In reality, he managed - just barely - to keep standing.

 

[Koda Fett]

​

NORIS
ALLIES: Ghorua the Shark
ENEMIES: Xuan Vo


The Spear III roared into life, his hand hovered over the various switches, buttons, and even the sticks as the systems restarted. It was with thunder that the thrusters first raised him into the air, slow and cautious before it transitioned into the verticle stance; the swiftness of the craft was seen then, as it raced off into the skies.

"Bust into one and strike fast to reach an Admiral." His voice carried itself across their communications, "On me."

Both the two non-uniform vessels were soon to enter the aerial conflict. His chosen route had seen him move towards the Destroyer that entered the Noris system moments beforehand, yet not without interference. The Spear III activated sensor jammers in order to prevent notice other than that of the naked eye. It hadn't stopped the Sith starfighters that intervened, much to their demise.

"Can the Jawesome cloak?" His hand hovered over another switch, one that would render the Spear III invisible to both sensors and the eye. He feared if Ghorua lacked such a system, there approach was to remain loud, and become even louder.

 

[Ranna Sejast]

Location: Primus Spaceport, Orbital Cannon Emplacement
Objectives: Orbital Cannon is Fixed!
Allies: NIO Koda Fett Ghorua the Shark
Enemies: Maw Bros Marlon Sularen Xuan Vo
Equipment: Flight Suit Blast Vest Med Pack Blaster Pistols

The cable was stiff and heavy on her shoulder as Prulesa dragged the newly linked up parts from where they'd lain to the next undamaged capacitor. "Mercenary, have you finished your task?" Her comm crackled this far underground but she could recognize the voice of the man that had told her to come down here. "Just about." She grunted back as she shoved the plug into a port, forcing it past the resistance of long disuse and twisting it to lock it in place. "There! done."

"Its about time, the others have already finished. We're resuming operations." With that the communication was cut and Prulesa breathed a sigh of relief before realizing that she needed to get a move on. The whole area was about to be electrified and her gear was something that all that juice would love to arc to. She ran back to the ladder and didn't stop climbing as fast as she could until she was a good thirty meters up. By then she could hear the whine of power beneath her and the edges of that standard high-energy field glow had started to show through that tiny hole at the foot of the ladder.

Uttering some not very nice things about the engineer under her helmet, she continued the climb back up and out of the guts of the orbital cannon. The activity in the equipment room had been neatly packed away and replaced with a single tech monitoring what looked like power levels and thermals who just gave her a thumbs up as she passed by out the hatch again and into the cold. There were no cheers as the gun let out a thunderous roar and a bolt of energy screamed skyward. Prulesa figured that meant she'd missed the first few firings during her climb. No sweet celebration for her, if there'd been one. Tired from the climb and fighting the heavy cables, she made her way back out of the compound and back through the checkpoint to the space port where the guard that had let her in gave her a pat on the back and then a nod when she turned to look back at him. She returned it and continued on her way. A weak smile now spreading. It was okay that she didn't get any thanks, the fleet had more support now, the evacuation corridor would stay open a little longer, a few more waves of ships might make it.

 

[Romund Sro]

Allies: Maw
Enemies: NIO
Tag: Mav Ryburn

​

After Jumptroopers began to fall into the trench they brought chaos with them. Which given that they were light and mobile shock troopers was something they were basically designed for. However, in that chaos came a lack of focus. Romund himself believed he was starting to feel more of that lost connection to the darkside being repaired for himself. With another death personally on his hands and the grim fate seeming to sink into his opponents he felt the lively corrupting influence of the Darkside in him once more. Or it was very likely just the rush of adrenaline and the thrill of battle he was getting mistaken with the Darkside.

Ahead of him in the trench he saw what looked to be the supposed leader of this squad of stormtroopers. Seeing them desperately try and fight off the rain of Romund’s own clones in a futile attempt to get into combat with the tall dark one before them. This entertained Romund some, allowing him to ease up some from the sight of his enemies' clear struggle to prolong their glorious last stand. Having begun to smirk under his white mask. Feeling truly untouchable to the lowly squad leader. Even if they weren't totally overwhelmed by the 909th, they would surely be too exhausted to stand any chance against Romund.

Then the most peculiar of things happened that caught the Maw warlord off guard. They were running away? Romund raised a concealed eyebrow. As the stormtrooper’s comrades were being butchered they must’ve figured they could slip out of the chaos, and maybe save themselves. It was too good, it even earned an amused laugh out of him. However, it would seem Romund’s own arrogance and the chaos he created had blinded him to what was really afoot.

In the middle of his own laughter he was prematurely cut short as he and his clones in the trench were suddenly consumed in a violent incandescent blast that washed over Romund and knocked him back further down the trench. In an instant Romund’s own world went dark and silent. The cacophony of battle and his own vocal amusement having been replaced with a ghastly ringing. It was only a few seconds before Romund took a harsh agonizing breath when he got an idea as to what had just happened. Before violently coughing from his prone position in the muddy trench. He couldn’t see, hear, or make any noise it seemed. All he felt was pain. The only sensation he had left. It felt like it had been an eternity until he felt movement on his own body. A small group of his clone soldiers gathered around their master. Frantically checking his vitals and checking his wounds. Knowing that he needed medical aid as soon as possible unless he got sick and died in the filthy trench. As they began to move him out of the trench a handful of others who were not in the blast began to sweep the area and make sure it was secure as their new priority was to make sure that Romund was taken care of.

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

LOCATION: NORIS
EQUIPMENT: IN BIO
ALLIES: NIO, Koda Fett
ENEMIES: MAW, Xuan Vo
​

Opposed to the deft moves of the Spear III, the Jawsome traveled in straight lines, moving through the open air like a great leviathan, growling in low bass tones as it's sublight engines jetted it forward. Sat upon his command chair, Ghorua maneuvered the ship into formation next to the Firespray, engaging the ship's boosters to keep up with the more nimble craft.

Ghorua let a low whistle loose. Now that's a ship.

"A classic smash and grab," the Herglic bounty hunter said, eyes narrowing. Easier said than done. He was already playing scenarios in his head, deciding what gear he would need to use. Shoulder-mounted cannon switched to charric, shield generator switched to energy... how many canisters of Nightcrawlers should he bring?

"No," Ghorua said, frowning in thought. "But if you got one, I say you use it. I can pull attention so you can get in close, and bust a hole for us." The star yacht's forward mounted laser cannons chewed through a Sith fighter trying to joust.

Then they could take cover in the Destroyer, assuming the Jawsome held up for that long.

 

[Gavyn Berand]

Private Gavyn Berand
New Imperial Order
117th Stormtrooper Division
29th Company
South of FOB Belisarius, Noris
Allies: NIO | DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Murraea Pharo | Ivan Sienar | Morrow | Jalter Volff | Mav Ryburn | Kinoan | TK-8867 | Anith Dorce | Frajan Borjar | Greven Astor | Aerys Myrrine | Others
Enemies: Maw | The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Subject 54 Havoc | Erion Justeene | Romund Sro | Darth Kalyptos | Darth Ptolemis | Khamul Kryze | Electra-12 | Darth Saevius | Others
Engaging: Mawites, open to opposition​

The roar of battle, even from within his helmet, threatened to overwhelm Gavyn. Artillery shells falling around his position sounded massive explosions and tore large chunks from the ground, sending literal tons of dirt and rubble arcing into the sky, only for it to come crashing back down on the heads of attacker and defender alike. Enemy walkers scoured the lines with cannon fire and grenades, while friendly walkers and ground-based heavy weapon support gave just as good as they got. Chittering lunatics continued to throw themselves at the defenders in waves. All the while the air above the trenches was filled with a storm of red plasma.

All around him the world had descended into complete and utter pandemonium. And then it got worse then the Scav Kings and Tarars took the field. A chorus of voices sounds on the comms as troopers all along the line readjusted to the new enemy that advanced menacingly across the scarred battlefield.

<"What are those things?!">

<"Focus fire on those shields!">

<"Where the feth are all the rest of the walkers?!">

Several of the Tarars broke from the closest Scav King, charging the short distance to the trench and hopping in. These weren't Moon Children, scratching and clawing with little thought other than blind rage; no, they were much more dangerous. One jumped in short distance to Gavyn's left, electro-blade in one hand and blaster in the other. He raised a large, leather-clad arm and swung, severing Lonn's head clean from his shoulders. Cackling and reveling in the bloodshed, he raised the other arm, sending bolts of heated plasma into Maro's armor. The man dropped his rifle and fell, though Gavyn knew he wasn't dead. The Tarar knew it too, and advanced on the trooper, clearly intending to finish him off with his blade.

Gavyn released the iron-tight grip he'd had on the BAW and with a savage yell charged at the marauder. He jumped on the man's back, one hand gripping tight at his masked face while the other went for his vibroknife. Before the Tarar had much time to react Gavyn found a gap in the armor and plunged his knife into the brute's neck again, and again, and again. Each stab cut deeper, opening the wound even wider and splattering more and more blood on the walls and floor of the trench. Another marauder advanced from the opposite direction; he raised his rifle and pointed it at Gavyn. Gavyn maintained his grip on the shoulders of the man he'd just stabbed, blocking the steady stream of blaster bolts with the Mawite's body. Adrenaline and fear surged in him as he yelled and pushed forward, heaving the body of the first at the body of the second. Both fell to the ground. While the blaster-wielding tribesman freed himself, Gavyn had just enough time to unsling his own SRK-65 service rifle. He fired a burst into the tribesman's face, ending him once and for all.

<"All forward units, pull back to the reserve trench. Reserve units, cover their withdrawal.">

<"You heard 'em, third platoon!"> Sergeant Horne's voice sounded on the comms. <"Move, move!">

He turned back to Maro. "Come on trooper, we have to get you back to the reserve line." The man nodded wordlessly, still too dazed to say anything in response. Gavyn hoisted his comrade onto his shoulders, and with service rifle in hand, he prepared to fall back.

The seemingly inexorable march of the Mawites continued, but still the 29th fought.

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron | Keilara Kala'myr (Mercy)
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent | Nite agent | Marauder and Agent of the Maw, Mongrel's advisor​

Objective: Doing her job and follow the warlord's commands.
Location: Landing zone, surface, Noris
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Assault Rifle | 2x Sunfury Pistol | Light Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger | 2x Riftblades || Cloaking Device | 5x ASBF Probe Droid || OPBC-01m
Writing With: The Mongrel
Allies: Subject 54 Havoc | Erion Justeene | Romund Sro | Darth Kalyptos | Darth Ptolemis | Khamul Kryze | Electra-12 | Open
Enemies: Melvain Braxis | DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Murraea Pharo | Ivan Sienar | Morrow | Jalter Volff | Mav Ryburn | TK-8867 | Anith Dorce | Frajan Borjar | Gavyn Berand | Greven Astor | Open

[ Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>

Spoiler: tl;dr

• Keilara tries to isolate the three realities from each other to help Kallan / Mongrel
• Ziare recovers his memories and recognizes Mongrel.
• Ziare forgives Mongrel / Kallan for what he did with her.
• Mercy is trying to support Mongrel and protect him in the reality.

~ Home/Consciousness; Mind Palace ~ | Kallan and Keilara ( The Mongrel )
~ He would kill me in front of your eyes to break you forever and destroy Kallan, to destroy you… ~ I replied bitterly. ~ And I don’t think our recovery and healing depends on us whether we want to or not. All I can do is delay yours so that it doesn't happen now, so that everything doesn't fall apart now. Like an imaginary sticking plaster. You don't have to worry me or protect me from him, I can take care of myself and you can hide what you don't want him to know. He won't find out, but if he has to, I'll kill him before it happens. I don't care if he is my saviour, my mentor. I'll kill him or anyone, to protect you. ~

Feth! I was afraid, I was very afraid of what would happen. I held him tightly, trying not to show my fear. I saw and felt for a few moments that Ziare was terrified, but it wasn’t just his fear, it was mine like Keilara and like Mercy. I didn’t worry about myself, nor for my other personalities. All three worried for him. Not even because we have to live without him, I wasn’t afraid for myself. I was worried for him, only for him. Nothing else mattered.

Because…

~ It is more than a simple loyalty, what I feel in your direction… I love you too… and… and… you are my family! ~ I said a little confused. ~ I want to live my life with you and grow old on your side. Away from this madness… there is even a way to get back your body that was taken from you. ~

I pulled back a little so I could look into his eyes to see that I was serious about what I was saying. As I looked at him, more tears ran down my face.

~ I think you have to decide who you want to be. I'm not going to influence you, I don't want to tell you who to choose. But whoever you choose… I will always be with you. I'll stay with you, here in Maw, you want to remain the Mongrel, I'll go with you if we desert, because you want to be Kallan, the Kallan who's in front of me now. Or I will support you in everything if you want to be old Kallan again, who knows nothing and probably doesn’t know me either. Then I will do my best to make you fall in love with me again, if you want to forget everything and that means me too. ~ I said hoarsely, I wasn’t sure if these were just my words or just Ziare’s, but I was sure I was crying even in reality, not just here, and I was glad I wore a helmet in reality.

I was scared too, very much. I did not want to lose him; he was my family…

I saw him change, I couldn’t keep him, when he collapsed. I knelt beside him too; new tears ran down my face at the begging what he asked from me. I hugged and aided him into the house. When we got in, I closed the door behind us. We probably didn’t get up, so I pulled over to him on the floor. With my telepathic force, I tried to draw an opaque wall around in all three realities to isolate the different consciousnesses, our different selves, for at least a while until the battle was over. We had to stay alive. I held his face gently between in my hands as I knelt beside him and rested my forehead to his and I looked into his eyes.

~ And now please take some deep breaths and try to calm down. You have to concentrate. We're alone now, just you and me. Do you feel better? ~ there was concern in my voice, I didn’t want him to suffer.

~ Basement/Subconscious; Mind Palace ~ | Kallan and Ziare ( The Mongrel )
I looked at Kallan's hand in confusion, but I accepted and was finally able to stand up. He was here in front of me. I looked at him confused with my green eyes and my heart beat faster. For a few moments I didn’t even know what to answer him. It was an unusual situation. After a long time, we were finally here facing each other. For a very long time, I thought I would never see it that way, in one place with him, with Kallan. I do not know what happened…

I wanted to answer when I was back in the door of the house I had seen before and then in the rain where I was standing near a huge armoured person. War. Again at the door, I heard my own voice telling him that he is my family and I love him. I think I really loved him and then found myself in the cage again. Suddenly I felt a lot of pain, no one had called me Keilara… for a very long time. Mercy…

I remembered the Taskmaster who helped lock me up here. Mercy… whom I had locked up as a child she embodied all my anger, hatred and pain. She killed Freedom and saved us from our Omni-self. I remembered everything. I was the coward, the weak, but the one the Taskmaster couldn't break, nor the Maw. I never got out after the Mongrel kidnapped me… I never got out. But who was he? When this area shook and trembled because of him and me…

~ Kallan, I am really afraid! ~ I said and involuntarily cuddled him.

I think I was again the seventeen- to nineteen-year-old girl who met the Mongrel for the first time, at Carlac. I was scared, terrified like my whole life. I could only survive one thing. But why? Maybe I've been waiting for him my whole life? That's when I noticed that it had changed. During the changes…

~ You are him! ~ I told him, stuttering in fear.

I recognized him! Embarrassed, I stepped back with fear in my eyes. I looked at him crying, sobbing. If I would have killed him or he would have killed me, I wouldn't be here, he wouldn't be here either. But in recent months, I’ve also remembered some memories of what happened “up there”. He wasn't like the Mongrel. It was him, but it wasn't. He didn't do it voluntarily… he, the Taskmaster, did the same to him as he wanted to do to me. But he was weaker, but he survived, he survived as well.

That thought broke my heart. From that moment on, I couldn’t be afraid of him, I didn’t feel contempt for Mongrel. Just regret, empathy. I sobbed loudly because I knew exactly what he had to go through. Maybe that's why we found each other here?

~ What did the Maw do to you? I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry! ~ I sobbed.

I should have hated him... I should have hated him, but I was unable. Not only him, not just Kallan, but even the Mongrel was a victim. The victim of the Maw. I was unable to move, I hugged myself crying while I was still watching him. Meanwhile, I saw for a few moments that Mercy upstairs was comforting the other Kallan. My heart was broken for him.

~ I forgive you… I forgive everything… that wasn't your fault... It's not your fault! ~ I said in a trembling voice, I was afraid; but no longer from him, but from what could happen to us.

Then it was as if a wall surrounded us, the other images, memories and feelings were gone - only he and I were left.

~ Reality; Noris' surface ~ | Mongrel and Mercy ( The Mongrel )
As more tears dripped down my face, I allowed myself to look at the other two locations for a moment. Two! That wretched freak Ziare also woke up. What?! At that moment, I realised that not only is the conscious part of our mind, but our subconscious is fused. He replied that I should stay. I also seemed to feel that he really needed me here, my help.

My eyes widened for a moment as he almost called me by my original name… don’t do this! Concentrate!

"Thank you, warlord!" I told him militarily.

The apparent had to be maintained at all costs. A little more, a few more hours. I had to do it, I had to. I stood a little sideways and, according to the chain of command, allowed him to head for the tent, and I followed him two or three steps behind. I practised so much, I did so that maybe it would have made it difficult for me to treat the warlord in a normal way.

I mean, like he's not my boss. Here it was customary, if others see us. And now yes, we'll be surrounded by the Scar Hounds. I don’t think anyone else noticed it, but I saw him, I felt his approaching with difficulty, his footsteps a little uncertain. At his begging, my heart sank, even here in reality I was not interested in the fact that it was a weakness. Not from him! After the request, when he asked for help, I overtook him and lifted the tarpaulin at the entrance to the tent, as might be expected from a low-ranking soldier.

~ Concentrate, you can do it, we've practised this a lot! ~ I spoke to him forcefully, hoping that this would bring his thoughts back to reality.

Meanwhile, I raised a protective wall in all three places at once, as I promised him at home, so I tried to protect him, to delay the process, which was apparently unstoppable. I really, really hoped it would be useful and I would be able to stop it until the battle's end.

~ You are my family… concentrate, don’t let everything fall apart now. If everything is true, now it will be easier for you to concentrate. If necessary, I will further strengthen the walls. ~ so I can take care of you so I can protect you…

"They have already had a large presence in recent days and a lot of effort has been put into installing trenches… as far as the spaceport is concerned, two roads lead out of it, north and south, which will soon split in three directions, east, west and north respectively. , or south. I thought that if these intersections could be destroyed or cut off, their escape could be prevented. With a concentrated attack or bombardment." I said concentration directly more strongly to continue to pay attention to reality.

I tried to maintain my appearance at all costs…

For him…

Spoiler: map

 

[Jorus Fel]

E M B E R _ T W O
THE EMPIRE
117th STORMTROOPER DIVISION
15th INFANTRY COMPANY
NIO | Cormac Thire | Baxter Weyland | Gwyneira Vizsla | Erin E-141 | Jack E-138 | Hiran Avola | Jax Sloane | Anith Dorce FN-999 Mav Ryburn Gavyn Berand Aerys Myrrine
MAW | Rannan Kol | Skorge the Bloodied | Kyrel Ren | Keilara Kala'myr | Erion Justeene | Romund Sro The Mongrel

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT
Ratne Igre​

Ivan tilted his head at the Captain's odd request for dispensing all their flashbangs and smoke grenades to the veteran, remaining static for a long moment before following the order. There was no army to pull them out of here, just the 15th's commanding and executive officers standing tall against an endless tide ravenously washing over them. Elsewhere, that tide had already crashed upon the battered ramparts of Belisarius against the defiant stormtroopers from the 29th Company, 19th Company, and companies of the 313th Legion.

Being cut out by the Maw was bad enough, not being shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the Stormtrooper Corps remaining to weather the cultists' storm was worse.

The hard-earned officer plaque he carried held him back from protesting the Captain's order. After handing his flash and smoke grenades to Karsh, he offered a curt nod to the older man, "Roger, Sir -- we'll make haste to Belisarius..." he relayed the order over his platoon's comms, then back to the Captain with a salute, "...Godspeed, Captain."

And with that, the second platoon made a hurried beeline in the direction of the FOB hoping the CO and XO had their backs, hoping they would be back in time to help their comrades against the Maw's assault.
​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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F A T E_O F_T H E_C H I S S
The Eleventh Hour - Winter Contigency

FINAL DAWN
NORIS, CHISS SPACE

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TASK FORCE MOMIN ​
Fleet Composition FDS Immortal [Flagship] Supremacy Mark-I Star Destroyers [24/24] Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers [12/14] Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyers [15/16]
Starfighter Compliment TIE/fd Fighters | 191 Squadrons | 2,040/2,292 TIE/fd Interceptors | 143 Squadrons | 904/1,144 Chariot-II Missile Boats | 96 Squadrons | 722/768 FD-120 Starfortress Bombers | 48 Squadrons | 372/384 Have not been deployed yet

Sularen watched as the flagship of the New Imperial Fleet above Noris ,a Defiance-Class Star Destroyer, succumbed to the concentrated firepower of the FDS Immortal and Half a Dozen Supremacy Mark-Is further aided by three Squadrons of Chariot-II Missile Boats and their deadly nova flares. Upon arrival , his Fleet had been immediately confronted by a New Imperial Naval Task Force comprised of approximately one to two dozen warships including Star Destroyers , Cruisers and smaller support ships. However Task Force Momin had more numbers , firepower and starfighters at their disposal and soon all hell broke loose. From the reaction of his New Imperial counterparts it seemed that they weren't expecting the Maw to deploy such a massive task force for a planet such as Noris but nevertheless within minutes their starfighter screen was broken , their strongest vessels subjected to the concentrated firepower of the FDS Immortal and it's Escorting Supremacy Mark-Is while the Starfighters of Task Force Momin launched countless attack runs on the smaller vessels of the New Imperial Fleet.

However despite this , Sularen was quite impressed by the sheer bravery displayed by these New Imperials. A New Imperial Frigate rammed itself into one of his Ascendant Mark-IIs under heavy fire from nearby Pocket Star Destroyers, destroying both warships while a Squadron of mixed TIE Slashers and TIE Bruisers launched a suicidal attack run destroying one of Sularen's Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers. These New Imperials were hellbent on taking down as much Final Dawn Warships with them and already half a dozen other Final Dawn Vessels had already lost their shields and we're under heavy attack from the New Imperials themselves , although Sularen expected them to be able to take down at least two Vessels at most before they would be overwhelmed and annihilated. So far the Battle over Noris was going in his favor and with their Orbital Canon damaged , it made it easier for his forces to punch through the New Imperial Forces.

"Sir , Admiral Vo and her Fleet have arrived." the Captain of the FDS Immortal said , informing the Grand Overseer of Xuan Vo's arrival. Her Task Force would be enough to finally breakthrough the remaining New Imperial Fleet , now reduced to half-strength and commence the glassing of Noris itself. Thus Sularen opened a channel with the Admiral to inform his subordinate of their progress so far. "Admiral Vo. Welcome to Noris. My Task Force has already taken down the enemy Flagship and we have them pinned down. Interdiction Fields are up which means that they'll be no escape for them and their fleet has been reduced to half of their initial strength." the Grand Overseer begun. "I need your forces to begin providing Air Support for our fellow Mawites on the ground , break the bantha's back once and for all and allow for our forces down below to annihilate them once and for all. Those New Imperials will pay the price for their transgression , one way or another." he ordered.

A few minutes later after Sularen relayed his order ,a bridge officer soon spoke up informing the Grand Overseer of a major development from the surface"Grand Overseer, sir. Our scanners indicate that they repaired their Orbital Cannon!" the Officer said. "So soon? That's impossible , the others on the ground should have already dealt with the Orbital Ca-" Sularen words were cut off as a single bolt of energy suddenly emerged from the surface of Noris before striking at one of his unshielded Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers , obliterating it in the process. Sularen immediately stood up from his chair as he witnessed the event speechless and visibly shocked at what had just happened. "Sir, orders?" the Captain of the FDS Immortal asked aware of the vulnerability of Task Force Momin and Vo's Task Force. "Get me in contact with whoever is leading the assault on the Primus Spaceport. NOW! As for the Fleet, we WILL stand our ground no matter what regardless of the risks." Sularen said. "Right in my moment of triumph my efforts are once again sabotaged by the sheer laziness of those useless marauders on the surface." The Grand Overseer said in a frustrated tone before sitting back in his chair. "I already lost a lot of good men and personnel at Jedha and Adrathorpe because of their mistakes and i'm NOT in the mood of losing this Armada because they can't get a simple job done properly."

Sularen hoped that the Mawites on the ground would do their job and hopefully get that Orbital Cannon disabled once more , otherwise his Fleet would suffer more damage and if the New Imperials called reinforcements the tide could easily turn in their favor. Preoccupied with the threat posed by the Orbital Cannon, Sularen failed to notice Koda Fett 's and Ghorua the Shark 's approach towards the Final Dawn Armada in orbit, unaware of their intentions or of their general presence in the area. Potentially giving them less opposition to face and a bigger window of opportunity when approaching their destination , whatever that was.

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Tags | Xuan Vo | Koda Fett | Ghorua the Shark | Ranna Sejast ​

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[FN-999]

N I N E S

ALLIES: NIO | In relative proximity of Melvain Braxis
ENEMIES: MAW | Indirectly engaging Rannan Kol | Kyrel Ren | Open to engagement
UNIT: The Ninety-Nine

FN-999 watched as the man fled with unnatural speed and vanished with his invisibility.

Coward.
​

For all he knew that man was now fifty meters away, finding a softer target to brutalize. With his absence, the trenches around FN-999 were eerily silent. The other nine troopers that had manned the twenty meters around him were either dead or missing, and it seemed as if none of the other invisible Maw elites had given further attention to the site. With the immediate threat gone, he withdrew his pistols and instead pulled out his disruptor carbine, counting to ensure that his five extra magazines were in place on his waist belt. He then moved to the right, walking towards the nearest connector trench. As he got closer to the trench, various transmissions entered his helmet comms feed.

[Sir, all explosives in the left third have been placed.]

[Sir, all explosives in the right third have been placed.]

[Sir... is that you? I thought you were in the middle thir- OH GOD!!]

[The grunts have overrun Nest 2, moving to engage.]

[Something's not right here. Hold on.]

[Is that what I think it is?]

[I just KILLED my own CO... What sort of witchcraft is this??? HELP!!]

[Why??? Why??? Why??? Why??? Why???]

[Help us, brothers. Don't leave us behind. Please, come back.]

[They've entered our comms! They're mimicking us, and our faces too!]

[Help us, brothers. Don't blow the trench up. We can hold them.]

[Help us, brothers. Bring us to our leader.]

[Help us, brothers. We must find Nines.]

[Nines has failed us.]

[Find Nines.]

[Lucas, don't you want to know about your father? What grand truths he hid from you?]

[ENOUGH!!!!!]

FN-999 ripped his helmet off and hurled it mindlessly in front of him, landing ten meters away and quickly sinking in the mud. It was worth it all to get those terrible voices out of his head.

In his twenty-five years of combat service, FN-999 had never once been subjected to such horror.

It wasn't a simple physical horror that he could shrug off or smash through. It also wasn't a natural psychological horror like the alien hordes on Dosunn or the hulking Bryn'adul on Cloud City. This was a powerful, unnatural mental influence, one that made him doubt his own sanity. Was the 19th experiencing these same terrors? Were these men and women, some of which he had served with for over a decade, still alive? Or had their voices been stolen by impostors, their bodies turned into mere puppets for their amusement? Was he still alive? He felt no signs of possession or hallucination, but was paranoid nonetheless. They would have to blow the trenches soon, consequences be damned.

He remembered that two of his officers had set up their thirds of the explosives before they were... replaced. Or perhaps they had been replaced earlier and were simply attempting to fool the survivors. FN-999 hoped for the former but suspected the latter. Nonetheless, he continued his setup, setting the timer for the last explosive in his area. Seeing the connector trench ahead intact and empty, he hastily turned and ran in, rifle raised and aimed directly down the trench. About twenty seconds into the connector trench, it happened.

When FN-999 had laid down the 19th's trenchworks, he had been inspired by his earlier, larger trench design in Csilla. He had hypothesized that at least the frontmost trench would eventually be overrun by an enemy with greater numbers, and had consequently laid powerful explosives in thin, deep ditches lining the back of the front trench. FN-999 had hoped that these explosives would both inflict significant casualties on the Maw vanguard and cause the entire trench to collapse, denying its use by the enemy. When the front trench was overrun in the defense of Csilla, the explosives were manually activated after the 454th Regiment had evacuated the trench. The result was devastating for the advancing Maw horde.

Now, the explosive system would be tested once more.

To his immense relief, his subordinate officers had not lied.
​

FN-999 barely covered his ears in time to avoid being deafened by a resounding boom, one that coursed through the ground with the force of a minor earthquake. Behind him, massive clouds of dirt and mud rose dozens of meters into the air, completely obscuring no-man's land beyond. Every notable structure and crevice in the first trench line rapidly caved in on itself under the explosive force and unstable ground, turning the entire area into a long, thin, rubble-filled crater.

After about ten seconds, FN-999 lowered his ears, picked up his rifle, and aimed directly at the center of the dust cloud, waiting to see whatever came through as he slowly walked backwards towards the safety of the reserve trench.

 

[Greven Astor]

GREVEN ASTOR - "SAXON ACTUAL"

New Imperial Order
Strike Team Saxon

Engaging: Kralmus Orr

In Keeping Secrets

The fallback had been going smoothly enough, considering the circumstances. Each member of Strike Team Saxon was acting as a proper piece of a greater unit, moving in sync with each other as they took their turn covering the others. It almost seemed that they would reach their own lines... almost.

A savage-looking Mandalorian landed in front of them, brandishing a large, menacing axe as he called to the supercommandos mockingly. Greven had heard the rumors of a Sith lord that claimed the mantle of Mand'alor, though he had taken it with a grain of salt. To think that any of their brethren would follow such a man was unthinkable. Yet, here they were, storming the NIO's defenses alongside the rest of the Maw forces. Greven leveled his blaster, taking aim at the man that had just mocked their honor.

"You must be one of these Death's Hand heretics I keep hearing about. Disgusting filth, the lot of you. I'll give you one chance... just one... to turn around and leave. If you have any shred of our people's spirit within your soul, you'll take me up on that offer."

One of the other supercommandos lunged at the man, firing at his center mass several times in a rage. Greven reached out to stop him, but it was too late. Two of the others followed, hoping to overwhelm their opponent as they both reached for their vibroknives. Something about facing the darkest version of themselves sent them into a fury, as if their very standing among the Mandalorians was at stake. In some ways, Greven supposed it was. These so-called Death's Hand Mandalorians were a bastardized version of everything that being a Mandalorian was about. And in truth, it was sickening. Greven looked to the rest of Strike Team Saxon as they began circling around the man.

"We take him together. For Mandalore! For the Empire! AVE RURIK!"

 

[Aerys Yvarro]

Ivan Sienar | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Gavyn Berand
The Mongrel

313TH STROOMTROOPER LEGION
"SABERTOOTH"

1ST BATTALION
1ST COMPANY

MYRRINE'S
"ASTRAL LIONS"
​

"DOSUUN!" Myrrine shouted to her element the few soldiers she had with her. Her shout was sent a shoulder-mounted missile toward the incoming Mawite vehicle. "DOSUUN, TÉSERA-TÉSERA!" Her shouts affirming the Dosuunian accent, it was Galidraani based but slanted with the Unknown Region's unique variations. Myrrine had been teaching her element to understand Old Dosuunian. Four-Four simply meant southeast-southeast. The park was nearly secure, there was crackling on her communications - a guard and advisor to Erskin, McGechin, made it known that the old man wanted intelligence. She didn't have time to sit here and write out a report. She cursed and demanded someone hook up her feed, live feed so he could see for himself.​

​

Myrrine didn't care if the feed would be delayed it would answer some of his basic questions. "EPTÁ! NEEDAN!" Seven she shouted and someone in her element turned to fire off mortars just south, southwest of their position. The unique code was quick and cut through the uncertainty with ease another soldier Private Mathur the grandson of Priya Mathur the former Prime Minister of Galidraan was knelt beside Myrrine. "Avalonia Two-Terrik," she told him plainly as she fixed the vibrobayonet to the end of her blaster rifle. "Charge Hoth, Avalonia Two-Terrik." They would charge together bayonets at the front, this was the meaning of Hoth and Avalonia. Two-Terrik meant grenades would follow, she caught her breath and gave a nod toward Mathur.​

​

Mathur acknowledged and readied himself as the other members of their elements radioed. "Two-Terrik, Avalonia, Charge Hoth."​

​

"AVALONIA!"​

​

Myrrine's shouts were like lightning bolts to the rod as the element rose up and charged, vibrobayonets piercing into flesh. The bottom serrated edge of their blade ripped through skin and muscle. Blades withdrew and then again, deep into their enemies grenades were launched forward, Myrrine too sent forth grenades as the 313th aided in the cleanup and security of the park. Up above them the young private took note of the 'fireworks' and gave the orders, quickly taking command of her element. "CLOUD! BAVVA!" ​

It was her way of identifying the "fireworks" above the base. War's costly and destructive element may have hindered some of the 1st Battalion's newest recruits but it only served to galvanize Myrrine. "FIFTY-ONE!" Simply meant to keep firing, keep moving - no one had time for whatever emotional damage was happening to that particular soldier. Myrrine heard Mathur shout it to another private and they weren't sure where that person came from but neither of them had time for the "flight or fight" response time that seemed to kick in for the poor bastard. Would she be reprimanded for using non-NIO lingo? Myrrine didn't know and she didn't care, so long as the job got done the Genesia-born Dosuunian didn't see the trouble in it at all.​

​

Advancing up from the South of FOB Belisarius, Myrrine's element along with the rest of what remained of 1st Battalion, 1st Company of the 313th with Major Shazzeke not too far away as there then was issued the radio ahead on IMPAF secured lines to the FOB that they were en route. A haphazard line of alabaster-colored plastoid armored men and women of varying races. Their armor was not nearly as pristine as it had been at the start of the fight, burn marks had made their promises upon the armor along with blister pockets where the plastoid had risen.​

 

[DECEASED Remmel Karsh]

3rd post

FORTUNATE SONS

EMBER_ONE
117th Division

15th Company,"The Embers"

NIO: Cormac Thire Melvain Braxis Ivan Sienar Erin E-141 Jack E-138
Hiran Avola Murraea Pharo Morrow Jalter Volff Mav Ryburn TK-8867 Frajan Borjar
Gavyn Berand Greven Astor Aerys Myrrine Kinoan Anith Dorce

Ascendancy/Enclave: Nuruodo'kal'brast

BOTM: Darth Solipsis The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Khamul Kryze
Erion Justeene Romund Sro Darth Kalyptos Subject 54 Havoc Electra-12
Kralmus Orr Darth Saevius Darth Ptolemis

Captain Karsh's Loadout
STORM Universal Combat Platform
CSR-50i Slugthrower Sniper Rifle
AP-25i 'SIMP' Particle Beam Blaster
X3 Flashbangs
X3 Frag Grenade
Beskar Bowie Knife
Entrenching Tool

A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 4

Objectives:

• Hold the Line
• Die Like a Hero
• Make Your Escape
• Aid the Wounded

FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)

Hesitation, though fortunately for All-Heart, the young 1st-Lieutenant acquiesced after just a mild bout of head-tilting confusion, handing over the smoke-grenades and flashbangs without a single question asked on the matter. With these, the old Thane had every intention of instilling that confusion tenfold on the enemies who beset them on all sides, still utterly clueless as to who and what was picking up their trail at the time; but with no other hindrances, holdups or quandaries to worry about, there was nothing else for it but to go about their work as all the night's insidious playing-pieces moved with free abandon around the city.

With a curt nod, Sienar finally answered,'Roger, Sir -- we'll make haste to Belisarius...', trailing off to ready the others over comms so he could be heard over the loud disruptor pulsations, making sure to be heard before turning back to Karsh. Standing to attention, Ivan then saluted his CO with clear sincerity, concluding,'...Godspeed, Captain.', as the sound of approaching TIE-Wings overhead screeched a horrifying echo into the deepest recesses of their minds.

'Good show, lad.'

No time could be taken to appreciate his comrade's invocation of a higher power's name, nor the implications that came with the fact the Captain certainly needed it, but just before the Lieutenant could turn to lead the others back to FOB: Belisarius, All-Heart offered a salute of his own, almost bowing as his fist clashed against his own cuirass-plate before Ivan could turn to leave.

Karsh watched on as the others departed, but in seeing that Commander Greene remained unmoving next to him, he muttered,'Whether we make it back or not, I keep buying the Embers time for as long as I keep fighting.', putting his helmet back on with a sigh of weary-minded exhaustion, properly clicking it into place as the force of distant explosions rumbled in soft thuds beneath their boots. The attack on Primus was well and truly underway, and the noose closing around FOB: Belisarius was tightening more quickly with every passing minute, but somehow Captain Karsh happy knowing there was still time to play with, even if it was only just a few moments to use as respite. His comfort was easy for the Lorrdian to read, made more gesture-like on the Krieger's end by further-relaxing his posture, but Greene could still read what Karsh couldn't hide, seeing with yet further ease than before - seeing that his old friend was agonising and suppressing it for his sake.

'You're more than welcome to join me on this cursed last hurrah, it's just that things will end horribly for us either way. And time just wasn't on our side, Brian. Sorry about that.... Alright, let's go slot some marrow-junkies!'

A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 5

​

FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)

'Gyah! Cheeky, cheeky, CHEEKY!!!!'

Laughing audibly, even through the thick armoured layers of his helmet, even over the sound of disruptors, explosions and dogfighting aircraft overhead, Greene couldn't help but admire his old friend in these moments. Even in near-death moments, Karsh had no trouble springing back up to try again with the same level of enthusiasm as before, caution treated only as seriously as his own sanity in such instances, though fortunately not a factor in the moments it mattered most to be cautious in the first place. Whenever the fighting was at it's thickest, All-Heart would display every possible trait that would earn such an epithet, and in every last engagement the Embers were deployed to play their part in, a clear sign of what made the Captain so effective in his leadership position, one of the many his subordinates relied on.

'Hot on our six already? Should change your cologne to something the LADIES like instead!'

A hearty, wheezing fit of guffawing mirth then rang out in answer, booming off the buildings on either side for further reverberation until Remmel could control himself enough to respond,'Cheeky on all sides tonight it seems, dick! But it's just three remaining on my end, thinking they're God's gift to sniping 'cause they got scopes on their disruptors this time!', gaining morale as the disruptor-trails cracked and fizzled overhead. Commander Greene had to duck down and keep behind cover on his side, not for any close shots, but for the fact he felt he still wasn't ready for the sudden jump in Captain Karsh's urge to banter his way through the fight, chuckling with head shaking in jesting disapproval before he snapped back up to clear out the last of his latest assailants to the east. Until their attackers were confirmed, the veteran-duo would get back to their individual states of fighting flow once more, at the very precipice between life and death, but dancing it like they were born to the rare gift of toeing the most dangerous of lines - and living to tell the tale every time.

'Clear to the east! Silent now it seems, at least close by anyway.... Lets clear the area for now, I'll get on comms and see if we can get any good Sit-Reps while I'm at it.'

With a simple thumbs-up gesture from the Captain, both old veterans pushed off in the directions they were firing beforehand, cautiously double-tapping whatever foes they'd previously downed in the hopes they wouldn't need to fight for their lives with the element of surprise against them. The proverbial knife's edge could be felt both deep in their souls and all over their bodies in physical and psychological dread alike, their end was nigh at hand and the duo knew it like they knew night followed day, but their maintained mindsets were revealing so much more, especially in moments like these. Neither Remmel nor Brian were willing to curl up and accept their fates like cowards, neither were willing to let their comrades down, as this obstinate, stalwart desire to fight for something greater than they ever could be had transformed them long before the sun set on Noris that day.

<"Slash! Greene again! There's a chance we might make a go of an escape-attempt, but hear me out 'cause we have aims of meeting up with your squad on the way to FOB: Belisarius.">

But whether we make it or not is another story.... Still worth a shot though.

<"We've made good, clean work of our attackers here, slow-going though it's been; but we'd be dumb to think it hasn't attracted the attention of other Mawites in the area, so we might just booby-trap and rig whatever can be mined on our way out.">​

 

[Karissa Saitel]

Location: 5 kilometers from Primus Spaceport
Tag; Ignatius Rausgeber
Equipment: BH-Durin Charric Blaster Pistol │ SE-61x Particle Beam Carbine │ ZXR-1 "Precision" Energy Sword
Tenebrae-pattern Commando Armor Serial : O-AD-12307 │ ACS-208 Wrist Ion Beamer │ Concussion Grenades

Spoiler: Armor

Post #2

The Maw rig didn't move far. Having found a firing position, Karissa could see what their goal was. Atop the cobbled war barge was a piece of massive artillery. It was a larger version of what four of the speeders carried, a menacing cannon with a multitude of barrels that looked like it could belch hellfire. Again her bike stopped in a low spot and the ISB agent crawled off. The smaller vehicles were lining up on either side of the rig, all facing the spaceport from which the thick lacing of blaster fire and puffs of explosions could be seen. Readying to attack their target, it seemed the Mawites didn't see the single figure hiding in the snow behind them.

Karissa cursed having brought such light arms. Her few grenades could damage some speeders, or kill mawites in the transport vehicles. But before she could devise a way to sabotage the pending barrage, she heard in the distance the grating voice calling to fire. There was a deathly moment of silence, and then hell opened up.

The ground seemed to shake and Karissa fell to the ground, clutching her hands against her ears. The cacophony was horrifying, the sound like an aural image of sheer and utter destruction. She shuddered for her comrades behind the defenses at the starport. Those weapons had to be stopped.

Going back to the hidden speeder bike, Karissa crouched behind cover. She had not had time to examine the armor commandeered from the 117th's gear. On closer inspection, the commando armor turned out to be a walking arsenal. While it appeared many of the modular components were missing, there was still an impressive loadout with wrist rockets, flamethrower, and a key code thermal detonator. She also quickly figured out some of the power features of the armor. Perhaps she could do something. After a few more minutes, the sharp-minded agent had managed to figure out how to operate the most significant features of the armor weapons, as well as targeting and some enhancements.

Feeling like she had a chance to do some damage, if not escape in one piece, Agent Saitel mounted the speeder bike and moved in a wide sweep to come up closer to the Mawites. She armed the wrist rockets and activated the helmet's targeting HUD.

 

[Murraea Pharo]

1006th Stormtrooper Legion
---
N O D O M I N I O N
"Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion."

Allies - Cormac Thire | Ivan Sienar | Erin E-141 | Jack E-138 | Hiran Avola

Engaging - Erion Justeene

Defence of Moscow​

Murraea swung the blaster pistol around like a tool of justice as he moved down the banks of the trenches. It was an automated process. He would spot a Mawite, sight down the pistol, and send a few bolts into the monster’s chest. Moving like a reaper down the line, the absolutely decimated forces of the Legion laying with blades and score marks dotting their armor. Electrical communication had broken down into cries of positions being overrun and desperate holdouts reading out their coordinates in an attempt to rally some reinforcements to their location. The Maw were vicious, though the death was not an absolute. Occasionally, Murraea would come across stern defenders, an intact portion of the trench with blasters rolling off rounds in all direction. Each time he came across such a holdout, the command was simple. For them to remain, for them to keep fighting, for them to hold the line against the onslaught of the Maw. He would move on, further down the trench.

He came across the desecrated sight of a rotary blaster position. The gunner was slung across the trench in two principle pieces. His lower half still by the gunnery position, and the upper half having been carried across the expanse of the trench. Some oversized cleaving weapon had caught him and drug him through the dirt with it’s charge. The other supporting elements were much, much more simply laid down with burning blaster shot billowing out of their corpses. Not even minutes ago, Murraea was listening to their calls for support and relief.

He knelt down and placed his hand on the chest of one of the fallen.

No dominion.

He reached up and snapped the tags from the man’s neck, stuffing them inside of one of his empty ammunition pouches.

The white betaplast in front of him was suddenly illuminated with solar red.

Murraea stood from the corpse and turned, slowly, deliberately, to face the new foe.

The monovision visor of an Ubese, the glow and heat of a saber, were ready to greet him.

Wordlessly, like a quick-draw action star from a holovid, Murraea let a volly of blaster shots ring out from his hip.

 

[Cormac Thire]

T H I R E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
117th STORMTROOPER DIVISION
38th SAPPER COMPANY
NIO | Ivan Sienar | Baxter Weyland | Gwyneira Vizsla | OPEN
MAW | Rannan Kol | Skorge the Bloodied | Kyrel Ren | Ignatius Rausgeber

KNEEL TO THE CROSS
NORIS '75

THE WINTER CONTINGENCY
DEFIANT 'TILL THE END​

The magnetic signatures of the Maw Auxilliary were rearing its ugly head closer and closer toward the position of the Imperial sappers. The entire platoon which Thire managed to grasp a loose command over was dug in with their sights pointed toward the horizon, trigger fingers at the ready to take aim and fire at the approaching enemy. In spite of the clatter and rattling of distant blaster fire and explosions, everything fell silent for Thire. As he meticulously went about setting up defenses in practiced, over trained movements, he could hear his breathing, his heartbeat, everything.

It was almost a certain kind of peace in that moment, that there was an inevitable clash that the Sapper was soon to have with destiny. That this would soon turn into his moment of do or die. Most might've cowered in fear to the weight of that moment, with nothing lest to lose, Thire looked forward to it with a certain spell of eagerness.

That they would prevail and be sung as heroes for generations of Imperials to follow...or be one with Noris and go out together in one final breath of defiance.

But for now was the silence of that haunting wait.

He peered up over the trench for a moment, in the direction of the soon emerging enemy. Still nothing to be seen at with the naked eye, nothing so brazen to shoot at it. The worst part of the approaching mass.

He ducked down again to fish a spool of detcord from his pack which he'd thrown unto the floor of the trench. In case they had to abandon this back to a further back line of defense, he wanted the means to collapse it and prevent its further use by the enemy. As soon as he was back up on his feet, the haunting shriek of artillery sounded off again.

Concussive rounds slammed into the broken, muddy earth with violent impact. Shards of shrapnel cut through the air in brutalist, screaming revelry as much soaked gore, blood and bones came awash over Thire. He had no choice but to duck himself down. Another trooper had been knocked down already and instinctively, Thire went to lay his body over his comrade, screwing his eyes shut and tensing into the further impact of the hellish rounds as they beat into the earth and fortifications around them.

It was eternity and a moment all in one when it finally stopped.

Thire opened his eyes once more, slowly pulling himself from the trooper beneath him who was able to offer a movement of his arm to indicate he was still alive as well. The mud and smokey ash covered all of their armor now, that once faint camouflaged white now perfectly caked and layered with the surroundings. He forced himself unto his feet again and offered a hand to the trooper next to him.

Thire led a platoon of sappers into the trench, he could at best take accountability for fifteen...maybe.

He needed a head count immediately. He made his way across the trench. He heard three blasters come to life in violent retort toward the enemy almost immediately.

Five.

He made his way down, nearly tripping over strewn body and limb he crouched down to force his hand under the mud laden body of another, pulling him up from the beaten earth to see a horrible sight. Flesh and melted betaplast down to the bone. Eyes melted from the skull and a shattered jaw barely held together with muscle and sinew agape in a final scream of defiance. Thire reached to grasp the identification tag of the trooper before laying him back down to rest only to step past another clutching his missing arm in the rocking terror of the fetal position.

Six.

Thire drew the pistol from his holster and offered it the way of the trooper by the grip in the hopes that he'd put it down range.

The expressionless visage of the trooper looked back up to him with a single nod.

Cormac returned the nod before continuing off down the line.

As soon as the trooper was out of sight, he heard the violent blast akin to the ap-25i service pistol. Thire glanced back in the hopes of seeing that trooper firing in the direction of the approaching enemy.

A single blaster bolt through his brainpan. Self-inflicted.

Five.

He could count another three blaster rifles come to life behind him in fateful retort as he crouched down to take another set of identification tags, meticulously going about slotting them in the same pouch on his belt, his brain processing in benign neglect of the hellish sights and sensations around him.

Eight.

He collapsed onto a single knee when his foot unknowingly met the side of another corpse, his hands bracing his fall as they buried themselves in the mud.

He heaved out a heavy exhale before managing himself back unto his feet again. He peered up to the death grey sky. He knew then that the possibility was more and more likely, it'd be the last sky he peered upon.

He nodded once.

Didn't matter to think over the sentiment or weight of the moment.

He had a job to do.

He wiped off the smear of mud covering the tacpad on his vambrace before hitting a comm line to Sienar once more.

<"Lieutenant. This is Thire and the 38th again...we're been hit bad, likely seventy percent out of commission. Max Auxiliary, artillery. I- we need to get to that damn bomb...if its still out there. I need something to help relieve my men here. Soon as I get that, I can seek it out, defuse it...and we can turn the tide of this damn battle, tracking? Get a word to the Commander if possible, or our spot on the line is gonna fold quick."> He asked his officer again, hopelessly as he lifted up another mud laden corpse to grasp ahold of the rifle he'd buried himself over. He cracked open the breach to see a nearly empty power back. He propped it out from the chamber before slotting in a fresh one, firing down range toward the approaching barge to appraise its ability to operate.

Of course, like most Imperial made weapons, it was tough as nails and shot without a hitch.

He looked to his magnetic scanner again, now running alive with approaching pips, he sought the biggest and continued to make his way down the trench, taking up the coil of det cord again and slowly running it behind his stride.

 

[Mav Ryburn]

Romund Sro
THE ELVENTH HOUR
Fate of the Chiss

Live by the Sword, Choke on the Blade
Engaging: the 909th

42... 41... 40... 39...

The numbers blinked in the corner of Mav's helmet display as he crawled on his stomach through the mud. The stormtrooper clenched his vibroknife in one hand, his jaw set as he slithered through the trench. At the sound of nearby footfalls, he stilled his movement, hiding his knife under his arm and twisting one leg to an awkward angle.

Someone was sliding down into the trench with him. Mav did his best to remain completely still. Playing dead wasn't difficult if you believed the lie you were telling. The squishing steps drew closer, paused. The stormtrooper didn't breathe.

A light smattering of rain was still falling. The water was slowly washing away sections of trench wall across the field. It was a little faster at washing away the blood.

28... 27... 26...

Another step. Then-

<"This side is clear. Continue on. I'll keep pace.">

The jumptrooper had hardly switched off his comlink when Mav surged up out of the mud like a man possessed. His enemy managed to get a panicked shot off from his carbine, which flew wide as Mav wrested the man's arms to the side and seized him around the top of his head, fighting to grip his body.

As the desperate foe struggled to break forward and away from Mav, he let the man go suddenly, and shoved him from behind. The man's momentum betrayed him. He fell into the mud on his face, with Mav literally on top of him, pumping his arm to plunge the vibroblade into his body over and over and over and over and

He'd stopped moving. Mav scrambled to his feet. In the constant roar of this hell, he doubted anyone had heard the screaming. But he'd have to hurry regardless- he didn't have a lot of time.

15... 14... 13...

Crouched over low, he ran on cautious feet the way he'd come over the wasteland.

10... 9... 8...

There was shouting. Someone had spotted him.

7... 6...

A shot rang out. Mav didn't see the bolt.

5...

Mav threw himself into the trench that still contained the bodies of his friends.... those the enemy had killed, and those he'd blown up in his savage cowardice. There was Cyra, and there was her rifle.

3... 2... 1...

0.

The blasting charge synced to Mav's helmet display went off in a fireball. He'd hidden it on the opposite end of the field while he'd been crawling around hiding. And with the jumptroopers' attention drawn away, Mav stood from the trench his comrades had died defending, sniper rifle in hand.

He could see them now- hunched over, carrying the damn monster on an improvised stretcher.

No time to check the weapon, or even if there was a slug in the chamber. 2 seconds to sight him in the scope.... he could make out the charred edge of that sack he wore over his head... and squeeze the trigger-

Wait! NO!

But the CRACK of the rifle could not be taken back. In the moment the hidden charge had detonated, the men carrying the dark one had dropped their leader to the dirt and thrown their bodies overtop of him. The bullet struck one of the faceless thralls in the small of his back, but he did not fall away to reveal the target.

Mav roared in rage, and began to walk towards the huddled convoy as he fired again, and then again into the jumptrooper, who slumped over even further forward, still covering that horrible-

"BASTARD!" A bone-chilling click sounded on Mav's next pull of the trigger, and he threw the rifle aside to begin running at a dead sprint. He jerked his knife free of it's scabbard. He'd slit his throat, he'd take the freak's head off the same way the freak had butchered Oril-

A blaster bolt caught him in the shoulder, and he felt the impact spin him around before he heard the rifle's SHRAK.

He'd just begun to stand wearily when a boot caught him under the chin and threw him to the ground. He lay on his back, his vision blurred. He heard more rifles firing nearby, and there was a lot of red light. His chest and stomach were warm and painful, he told his legs to stand him up, he had to run, he hadn't killed the monster yet, he hadn't....

Mav squeezed the grip of his vibroblade fiercely, with everything he had. Then, his grip began to relax. Slowly slipping, the blade tilted, his fingers loosened.

And he let go.

 

[Vesta]

Jim Jones​

Location	Ground Near Spaceport
Enemies	New Imperial Order | Marcad
Allies	Brotherhood of the Maw
Equipment	Lightsaber

The static lack of definition in the woman's face as she emerged from the fire and smoke in much the same manner that superheated air and vaporized steel lifted up from the ground was as chaotic as the rumblings in her mind. What was a step taken looked like smoke curling into a limb at the end of its travel, what was a hand lifting was as if the limb had simply extended itself from the core of her being, but the powerful hatred that rest in her heart was just as present now as it had been when she had landed - a lightsaber materialized from within her hand, the body part obtaining greater clarity as she called upon the force to push away the smoke, the heat, and rubble with the backward gesture of her hand. She could feel the lives around her, hear their breathing and the gap created as hundreds ceased to on either side, and knew she had arrived precisely where she had meant to.

A lone figure approached, one that symbolized everything she knew the occupants of Noris to be - suicidal.

Fighting to the last, extinguishing all they could without impunity until they could burn no more, that was what it had meant to be an Imperial now - how it always had been, if even with some greater subtlety in years past, but that was precisely how all were quickly becoming when it came to the hunger of the Maw. A red column erupted in her hand, her lightsaber, and its brilliant crimson glow illuminated the shadowy body she possessed as if she had been a cloud of ash. Black orbs, devoid of white, kept themselves trained on the man as she considered her options.

And her hunger.

She advanced from the scattered remains of her ship, now in a distant half-circle behind her from the simple gesture made earlier, and placed the entirety of her attention on Marcad with a far greater focus than many of the Maw's own military heads had for the targets they had painted on their little maps on their flying metal birds. It would be so easy to consume the planet, to devour it with a hunger not seen for dozens of centuries, but that was not what they - what she - was after, the slow build-up to the terror that would turn to the galaxy cannibalizing itself in fear. This would need to be a military conquest, a crack in the façade of Imperial and Alliance confidence would need to come before the shattering of forceful morale.

"Most do not run to their deaths." She said, her voice carried to the man's ears through the force and the force alone - being what she had become relied on such. She gestured to the hasty defense that was being fought over behind her and then towards the spaceport behind him, where there was still distance placed between the men and women in Imperial uniform as opposed to the hungry surge of Maw forces. "Yet you've came straight to meet her." She lifted the lightsaber in a mock Makashi salute, the symbol of a civilized saber style, and broke it down with the chaotic openness of Juyo.

"I am Darth Mori."

She moved towards him like the fog of war itself, a red-tinted cloud of darkness with a lightsaber at its front, with incredible speed.

"Prepare to die."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Spaceport
Facing: Gwyneira Vizsla


The undead nightmare watched with furious anger towards the sniper’s nest. The shape of a mangled scowl formed on his stitched lips. Watching as how the same rage he felt had specifically tried to target him. For once he didn’t know if he felt excited, annoyed or even livid by the attempt. His steps had some sense of speed despite how heavy he was, he called upon the dark side to move a little faster, his rage rising with his own blade feeding into it.

As he approached closer the blaster fire coming towards him grew only more intense. Angling his blade in an attempt to deflect them away from him. Even for the ones that he couldn’t block, they caused sparks as they impacted his armor. His rage kept increasing with every shot, and with every step for whoever it was that targeted him would feel his wrath.

With one hand he stretched out, with so much hate coursing through his veins he slowly started to bring the building around the mysterious stranger down. As if to finally draw him out, and engage on what he loves as brutal close quarters fighting. One hand clutched his blade, trying to defend while the other only sought to bring his adversary down.

He waited, and watched as with a firm grip the surroundings slowly started to shake. Cracks forming as if he was pouring his rage into the cracks, standing so close he was unphased. Watching to see what his attacker may try next, and perhaps if he was lucky he would meet him, that or his men could always devour him. The chaos all around him steadily erupting into a blazing inferno. The screams all around him were simply music to his ears as the Maw looked to continue its rite of bloody conquest.

 

[Kralmus Orr]

Location: Noris, Wartorn Trenches
Engaging: Greven Astor

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Attacked by three supercommandos, Kralmus evades one, wounds the hand of another, and kills a third

​

So, the little squad Kralmus had decided to butcher were Mandalorians. What a delicious coincidence!

The cannibal squared off with the apparent leader of the squad, who'd leveled a blaster at him. He probably should've dispensed with the banter and just hacked the guy up with his axe, but feth it; taunting his foes was part of the fun! The other man called him heretic and disgusting filth, which might even have been hurtful if Kralmus hadn't heard it all a million times before. Then he said something funny. The cannibal couldn't help himself. He laughed, a high, shrill, nasal sound, like a cold wind whipping across jagged rocks. "Our people's spirit?!" he mocked, chuckling all the while. "Look around, little man. This is our people's spirit made manifest."

All around them was mud and blood and fire and death. All around them was war, in all of its glory... and all of its horror.

One of the NIO commandos, evidently incensed by Kralmus's taunting, abruptly threw himself at the cannibal. Kralmus casually sidestepped, letting out a little tut-tut, and slapped the man on the backside with the flat of his axe as he stumbled past. "So much for your vaunted imperial discipline," he said, again in the tones of the disappointed schoolteacher. While the first recovered his balance, two more came at him with knives. They were good, clearly well-accustomed to working together; training and field partnership had taught them to sense one another's intentions, enabling them to move in flawless tandem. One came in high, one low, a perfect double attack.

They never stood a chance.

For ten long years, Kralmus Orr had survived alone in the ruined wilderness of post-bombardment Mandalore, growing ever more insane and ever more skillful in combat. In that time he had faced down packs of Sithspawn horrors and entire clans of Graug, learning to fight multiple opponents at once through a trial by fire. He still bore many scars from those days, times he hadn't been fast or clever enough to avoid harm... but he had learned from each of the blows that had left those scars, and he did not intend to add to their number today. Even more than his armor, his hard-won experience on the field of battle would shield him from injury. He had fought far more than two before.

From his casual, open stance, the cannibal suddenly burst into frenzied movement. Powerful arms brought his long-hafted axe around in a clockwise spin, the haft smacking hard against the forearm of the foe on his left while the vibromace forming the back of the axe blade smashed down on the hand of the foe on his right. Crunch. One blow was deflected, the other disabled as the bones of that knife-wielding hand shattered under the weight of the powered weapon. Continuing the movement, Kralmus stepped left. He hooked the axe haft behind the neck of the uninjured attacker and pulled. At the same time, he brought up his right knee, slamming it into his foe's stomach.

The supercommando, yanked forward, hit Kralmus's knee and flipped over it, landing flat on his back in the mud. Finishing his axe's clockwise spin with the bladed end once again pointing up, the Mawite Mandalorian brought the bottom of the haft down hard. That bottom was sharpened into an eight-inch spike, a spike that expertly slipped into the gap between the downed commando's helmet and chestplate, punching through windpipe and spine in the same strike. It all took less than six seconds - three attackers foiled, with one humiliated, one wounded, and one killed. Beneath his helmet, Kralmus grinned, pointed teeth exposed. Now he was finally having fun.

"Neeeeee-eeeeext," he called out, his tone cheerfully mocking.