Post 6
Firing through the Sith Fleet beign engaged at point blank range was risky, and likely if they had tried to sustain fire, they would end up lighting the ships controlled by Erebos in the rear, but five shots wasn't sustained, and they took time to make their targets. Or Target. The Kandosii-class shuttered fires erupting on numerous levels. She was a tough old beast with lots of fire power, but she wasn't invincible. numerous decks were in flames and weapons flickered off line, shields pulsed and drained as they were hammered. But she was a tough old beast. But with the planetary shields down, those turbolasers had no protection from the immense power of the feedback they had called upon themselves. Five streaks of energy, each roughly a third in strength of what the W-165's were capable of themselves lashed downwards into the atmosphere back along the path the turbolaser shots had fired from. That's why they called it Retribution.
Draco's Mandalorian Flotilla was engaging the Sith vessels closest to the planet in a point blank range. Hammering them with the Force Storm directly, would have erased just as much of the Shawken Fleet as the Mandalorian one. Nonetheless, ripples of energy hammered all four ships, the Warden-class sounded alarms and declared abandon ship orders in the chaos of the Force Storm. No one knew how many hands would survive, but one would expect extremely limited. "Burn Overdrives. Push us into atmosphere now, full speed ahead." It wasn't going to save them. The old Drahr was going to go down. The shattering skies of Atrisia were no safe haven, but they were far better than the blistering, torn shreds that was becoming of the void.
The Kandosii, as battered as she was, her hull glowed as she broke atmosphere amid the turmoil, lightning crackling across her hull, tearing deep rents into it. Cities were burning on the ground already. People were being turned to mere ashes in the devastation. Troop ships detached after the big ship broke into the clouds, steam rising off her blistering hot armor. She was going down, no doubt about it. Behind her, the marines and warriors aboard the Bes'drahr could feel it too. They might survive, being so close to the planet, being unscathed when it began.
"Continue falling. All engines elevate thirty degrees. Tell every warrior left its time. Shields are down, hammers are out. Hit the ground like a ton of bricks." Tet's voice was sharp. He was certain that the Drahr wouldn't survive long. Turbolaser fire rippling into her and such, Force rifts causing shockwaves throughout the system. But they were going to be around just long enough to do their duty. Deliver thousands of Mandalorians to the surface of Atrisia. And so they did. Eight troop ships, what was left of the fighter screen, and horde from the bowels of the ship. She wasn't loaded all the way down with her complement, but she carried a lot.
"This is Tet Vizla, arm up and abandon ship. All hands." The captain turned to the screen at his left and clicked a few buttons. Oh, no. He was going down and out, but he would be heard. Green lights appeared before him on the screen. "There you are my sweets. Lets see how many rats like the cave in." Seven turrets loaded, seven operational. Excellent.
~Drop Bay~
And so it was finally time. The ship rocked and rattled, she creaked and she groaned. But, she had some pieces left. "Everyone off this boat." Draco yelled, smiling behind his T-visor. He needed the distraction right about now with the argument with Faith remaining fairly heated. Jarl Volgrim slapped his barrel chest with his fist, and Draco could have sworn the trakar'gam plates were dented. The Basilisk beneath Draco grumbled and groaned with delight, feeling the anticipation of battle in the air.
//To: [member="Faith Organa"]
Next time, I will tell the next planet I have to liberate from Sith oppression they have to wait, I'm busy cleaning my room.
It was just a pair of socks. Just leave it till I get back if you have to. Can't you complain to someone else? Isn't that why we pay Ana?
//End.
The space below him opened, and he dropped, and he dropped, and the engines burned. All around him warriors fell from the ship and slipped down towards the planet. Some in pods, some on Basilisk War Droids, some by themselves, using rocket packs to guide their descent on as they needed. Comlinks were silent, but Draco could feel the pressure in the Force, even the Young Bloods, the teenagers were giddy for this fight. So far it had been pretty good, and there was no telling how many Sith had exhausted themselves to pull that stunt. The Cult seemed to enjoy it greatly, Sklor might have even taken some notes about what to do if he killed enough of his enemies and ate enough of their force imbibed flesh and blood. The sky was wracked with energy, lightning and fire swept great swathes, stitched through them. Some, would die on the way to the planet. It was inevitable. Some would live to fight on throughout the day.
The only steely, emotionless ones in the group where the Solus Nek, riding their own mounts or falling towards the planet in their own little group. They were calm. Prepared. They either win. Or they die, and they still win. It was their way. And they fell ever onward to the ground opening up beneath them, unscathed by lightning or by fire, or by fear. The anomalies of the Force avoided them and their kin, lightning dissipated even as it encroached upon them, darkness turned its back, tracing away from the dogs and dredges of the Clan.
Every Clan Vereen warrior carried two things of great importance. An Individual Field Disruptor allowing them to slip through energy shields, and a sensor jammer to hide themselves until the great plunge into battle. Some carried Ysalamiri on their backs, but these were few and far between. Finally, the best thing about the new Mk3 Basilisk War Droids, was if you shot at them, blasters and lasers liked to bounce back off their armored hides. Aye, it was called Retribution for a reason.
[member="Darth Erebos"] [member="Darth Malakai"] [member="Mythos"] [member="Darth Mephirium"]
