The Winter War

[Kier Grey]

Kyle Weir
Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Tags: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Cynthia Alucard"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Max Fel"], [member="IC-104"], [member="Zesiro"], [member="Varian Alaric"]

Kyle was gone and in his place Amur smiles wickedly towards Varian from behind the tandem brass-coloured flowing lenses on the Warrior's faceplate. Fists clasped tightly around their G-12A Rifle. Advance had been stalled for now, one hand came off the weapon maintaining the pressure against Alaric effortlessly even as their other heaves back in a fist and thrusts forward with blinding speed towards the man. No doubt it'd miss their quarry thanks to their pre-cognitive abilities thanks Alaric's force aptitude instead Amur's curled fist smashed into the ferrocrete bunker wall laid into cave wall, travelling a few inches into its' now sad cracked face prior to stopping. Though Alaric had not realized it they'd accidentally hit the release on Weir's rifle sending its' gas canister into the snow between their feet rendering that Blaster rifle atleast temporarily inoperable, Amur does notice it though and immediately releases the weapon before following Varian's steps lurking constantly in the man's shadow announcing each strike with a deep telegraphed snarl that warps through their annunciator into something not recognizable as Human.

Steadily though Amur's grip slips becoming weaker and weaker with each passing moment that Varian carefully avoid the strikes, but empowers that second consciousness within Kyle's mind the stronger and harder he fights back. It is a fate that they wouldn't have wished on anyone to share thoughts with two different entities, one was who Kyle had always been; a keen and stoic warrior with pride in their marksmanship abilities and secondly, Armur. An entity introduced with the onset of Project: AFTERLIFE's psychotic side effects, their influenced passed or is negated with one of two methods, avoiding dangerous situations or carefully observing the counter-mutagen stim regimen. The latter of which Kyle had carelessly neglected, and so now fell into a guiltless, depthless fury with their anger being acclaimed positively by spirts of intense pleasure squiring through synapses. "You followed us sneak, why? Answer me!?" Amur and Kyle's voice spoke in a possessed unison even as the former remained wordlessly present although unannounced with the latter entity would not remember this brief albeit violent encounter in the coming minutes. They blacked out entirely in situations like this only to recall incoherent thoughts and memories from the Demon's rampages.

 

[Har'xa Escala]

Har'xa Escala, Fleet Admiral
Equipment: Uniform, Code Cylinders, Blaster Pistol
Location: Crash Site, Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Status: Someone is going to get demoted for this
Interacting with: [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Allies: [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Zesiro"] | [member="IC-104"]

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The first warning from Alucard went unheeded as the Admiral stood in all his imperious glory to glower in the direction of the Captain. While Har’xa appreciated her concerns, his mood was swiftly deteriorating and he wanted to know what was their plan of action.

And then, the second and third warning came from their pilot and co-pilot came through the system. A scowl found its way to his features when it became clear that there was no way of remaining airborne.

Not bothering to say another word to the panicking Captain, the older Escala stalked towards the direction of the young Wing Commander, his steps steady and sure even as the hull of the vessel began to shudder violently as it continued on the path of its unplanned descend. “Thank you, Alucard,” he stated curtly, his annoyance at the alteration to his schedule and the inconvenience of the journey back to Base Senth seeping into his tone.

With the halting movements of a person who has not needed to deal with such contraptions, Har’xa secured himself into the harness, pulling at the ends of the straps to ensure that laid firmly over this shoulders and torso. Then, there was only the waiting.

There was an edge of apprehension that found its way into his presence that the Epicanthix would never admit to as the vessel impacted with the ground, the violent lurch of an abrupt halt indicating that it has struck one of the naturally occuring seracs or one of the manmade crevices excavated by the opposition. It did not bode well for them, he thought, even as his body strained painfully against the safety restraints.

Ignoring the shouts of alarm and groans of pain of his subordinates, the tall male unlocked himself from his seat, his mind rapidly processing their situation as he got back on his feet carefully. There was some discomfort on the parts of his torso, but other than a faint sense of disorientation from their untimely crash, Har’xa pronounced himself fine.

He turned to regard his blonde subordinate, and after a moment’s thought, decided that there was no point in hiding the fact that they were in an untenable situation. “According to the last coordinates, we are supposed to be travelling at the edge of the conflict zone.” There was a pause in his words before he spoke up once more, “Get your injury seen to, Wing Commander. Or at least keep a stimpack of painkillers on your person.”

Considering that the ship was dark and only the emergency systems remained live, he doubted that the communications system would work. He was proven right as the crews gathered themselves and started on their emergency protocols. As each called out their report, the news only grew grimmer and their options further decreased, until they were only looking at the only one that remained to them – to wander through the battlefield.

“We have no choice but to make our way through the frontline.”

With the blizzard closing in within hours, the extra time needed to skirt around the edges of the conflict zone held too much risk of them being stranded in a hostile environment without any shelter. The older Escala began giving out orders and organising them to gather and divide supplies and equipment, for the sooner they started, the better their chances were.

With grim determination, the members of the downed vessel were gathered at the exit, all of them dressed in winter gear and carried a firearm on their person. While they did not specialise in fighting a ground battle, they received basic training in the case of emergencies and knew how to conduct themselves. With a sweeping glance, Har’xa gave them a nod and signalled for the first group to move out.

“You are with me, Alucard.”

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter
Polar Zone, Byss
Interacting With: [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Varian's arms felt weak and powerless against the beast that was this supposed First Order loyalist. He felt insignificant, he felt tactless and without any strength in this very moment. Even with putting forwards all of his strength he was barely holding back whatever this thing was. Alaric had no idea as to whether it was a human or something else entirely. All the former Knight of Ren did know was that his training from the past six years had been all in vain, uncompromising, undeniable vain and stupidity. It had all been a fruitless endeavor. All of that training was for naught and it proved to be nothing to this creature who was trying to rip him to pieces. His lungs felt cloudy and murky from the strain he was pumping into his upper body as his muscles rippled and tightened. Taking in a deep breath through his silver faceplate, the male tried to push back against the imposing figure. And yet it nothing became of it. His arms felt as putty now, jelly. They felt heavy and lax as though they were merely dead weights attached to his torso without use or any comprehensible, evolutionary adaptation to survive. They felt loose and weak as though all bone in his arms had left and withered away, leaving only blood, muscle, and skin in its wake without any form or shape. The strength to keep his arms and shoulders up and forwards facing to brace the rifle away from his face was one of pain, sending spines and needles of pain to stab into his biceps, into his triceps, and into his deltoids as he pushed back against the presumed male figure in front of him. If he knew Force Strength he would have used it in this very moment, but yet he knew it not. Perhaps he had learned it some few years ago when in the Order though he had never used it. He had never needed to use or even know such an ability until now. And it was coming back to bite at him savagely and viciously, the pain alone in his arms was enough of a call to action to change himself...let alone this brush with death. That is if he didn't die from this hulking mass of a figure.

Alaric released a startled gasp when the male who was trying to overpower him pull a hand away from the rifle, effortlessly holding back Varian with just a single arm. At the sight of this, he used the remaining strength in his body to push back at the supposed man who was standing over him. Hesitantly, he reached out towards the force and it met with him halfway. The force seemed to softly palm at and grab at Varian's figure, never fully being able to connect with the former Knight of Ren or his spirit. He had resigned to not using the force for so long that to use it now felt sickening, making Alaric's temple buzz in pain as the force tried to tap into his mind... unsuccessful each and every consecutive time. His head felt lightheaded and weary, prompting him to pull away from the force. He would rather use and most likely fail with his own physical body than allow the force to rap at his mind and cause his pain and trouble. When all else failed, Varian had his own body and how own intuitions and his own reflexes to rely on. And when that failed? The man still had his savagery to rely on, something that was slowly crawling to the forefront of his emotions and his instinctual nature of natural human instincts of flight-or-fight.

Despite his apparent lack of being able to properly connect to the force, he still has some semblance of the force coursing through his veins. Which was why he has received the precognition sense to move his body to the left. And he had just moved his body in time as the thing in front of him used it's now free hand to aim a punch at his lower torso which thankfully missed. The metal fist had missed Alaric barely by a few inches, now instead, the fist impacted and punched the concrete wall behind him. Whatever capacity of unmatched and unimaginable strength that this man had become immediately apparent as his fist drove into the concrete wall a few inches, cracking the normally stalwart and hard to break through surface around it. It was as though the concrete was merely just paper mache to the man who was attacking him, he had cracked it and damaged it as though it was nothing, as though it was insignificant, as though it was weak and useless. Just like Varian in this very moment. If a single punch could do that high of a degree of damage to a reinforced concrete wall, then what chance did Varian have? None, absolutely none. His strength would be useless, even with adrenaline and savagery starting to course through the man's blood and nervous system, it wouldn't do anything to deter this man. All of his strength and training would do nothing. His mind, on the other hand, might just be able to help him to outsmart this First Order spy. He was in a blind rage, after all, it wouldn't be hard to trick and outsmart him. At least, that's what Varian believed right now. It's what he thought and hoped would work. If I didn't work, he didn't know what else he could do.

Varian quickly ducked under and over the spy's arm, finally being free of the trap which was the wall that he had been backed up into. Without the concrete wall to his back now, the man felt less constricted and cramped now. He wasn't trapped between a wall and the mountain of metal which was this First Order loyalist. It would be easier now, hopefully, to outsmart and then subsequently best this spy into submission. After beating him, Alaric knew he would kill him. He wouldn't tolerate any First Order spies following him, and he would kill them all when he caught them. At least, that was the idea. Getting information from the people following and stalking him could, of course, be undeniably useful and helpful to his cause. However, his paranoia told him otherwise. Even if he did interrogate a spy and get some 'information,’ it would all just be a trap. It would all just be an ambush, of course, to trick him into going somewhere to be attacked by the First Order when he was at his most vulnerable, most afraid, and most fearful. He couldn't trust anything that these spies and loyalists said, they were all traitors and liars and deceivers and killers. They had killed off a large majority of the Ren, so why not tie off any loose ends like Varian himself?

Despite his lack of usage of the force in recent months, it still called to him, it still helped him. Somehow, someway. He had cut himself off from the force to protect himself from the Order of Ren, hiding his presence and even going so far as to cleave a piece of flesh from his left forearm to get rid of Siegers ‘Blood Oath' so that he need not be followed anymore. Varian didn't know why it did, but it was helping him to survive. Something that he was thankful for. The growling was the first telltale sign of an attack coming from the hulking man and the force helped him to move faster and sense more quickly when the man would strike and where he would. One, two, three. Dodged, dodged, missed. Despite the offender's strength, his speed was cumbersome and poor in regards to punches. Perhaps he was in great pain of some sort? Varian didn't know, nor did he care.

A growl and groan of pain ripped itself from Varian’s throat as he felt something connect with the middle of his torso. He didn’t have to look down to know what had happened, it was obvious. He had been careless and thus had suffered the consequences of such an uncaring, naive, and stupid attitude towards the hulking armored mass. As soon as the punch had connected, Varian had felt a sickening snap and crush in his stomach and chest cavity. Something was broken, something was most definitely broken. He could feel something had broken inside of him and was now moving at the slightest of degrees inside of his body. He tried his best to hold in the pain, though the blood was something he could not hold in as the warm, scarlet liquid trickled down from a purple bruised area on his lower abdomen beneath his armor.

Karking First Order bastard, you're going tp pay for that!​

"You followed us sneak, why? Answer me!?"

"Me, I'm the sneak? Me? No, no you're the sneak. You are the karking First Order wardog sent after me. Go back to your sad little kennel, wardog, go back to the First Order where you loyalists belong...far away from anyone civilized!"

Varian's hand quickly went to his back, pulling out his shotgun from his holster before he aimed it towards the man standing in front of him. It was loaded with heavy slugs meant to tear flesh and light armor easily. Perfect to deal with this wardog. The man quickly cocked the barrel and fired off two shots in quick succession towards the armored man.

[member="Zesiro"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Har'xa Escala"]​

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard
Location: Byss, Trenches, Hostile Territory
Nearby: [member="Har'xa Escala"]

Cyn rubbed her bruises softly, the pain faded slightly as news of their location filled her ears. Dread washed over her and soon her body's pain was replaced with fear, fear that they had to survive a ground engagement. In extreme temperatures. Fear was a great motivator, and Cyn nearly forgot about the pain caused from the crash and focused on gearing herself for the upcoming battle in the snow and trenches. Along with plenty of determined enemy soldiers that want to kill me as much as I want myself to live.

Earlier, she had worn proper winter equipment, but it was meant for the rear-line duty she had enjoyed at the time, now here Cyn was attempted to find some sort of armor to help against potential blaster shots. Unfortunately, only a helmet had been found suitable to wear and the rest were either too large or rather heavy to be of any use, another reason to remain in the stars Cyn figured. The young TIE Commander grabbed her supplies and emerged next to her Admiral, she hoped her stature would prove to be too small a target.

She inspected a combat knife that was taken off of a blaster rifle and ran her gloved finger over the spine, a glint of satisfaction appeared in her eyes. Cyn figured she would be better off with a weapon she practiced the most with, her blaster pistol, and if she truly needed something heavier, well, Cyn turned to face her Admiral and figured if he couldn't take on what was out there she wouldn't be able either.

I will speak of your heroism if you fall today. Cyn hoped to survive to provide everyone around her a song of praise of their bravery should any need it for their funeral. The ship's ramp opened slowly and the blast of cold air shot needles all across her exposed skin on her face, Cyn gritted her teeth and pushed forward. Will little to provide them intelligence, they would mostly likely need to find a friendly unit of troopers, and hopefully their command line wasn't stranded out in the middle of nowhere.

Cyn moved out, thankful for no immediate enemy contact, she peered around and noticed happily that the trench was dug just deep enough to allow Cyn the ability to stand straight up without exposing any part of her head. The galaxy isn't always cruel I guess. She continued to move with caution, a ship crashing into a trench no doubt would bring all sorts of combatants to them soon enough.

Blaster pistol at the ready, Cyn calmed her nerves and awaited for further orders from her Admiral.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Lannik Hayes, a Stormtrooper who is way beyond giving a kark
Equipment: Stormtrooper Armour, Vibrodagger, Blaster
Location: Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Status: Apparently, inflicted with temporary insanity
Interacting with: [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Varian Alaric"]
Allies: [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Zesiro"] | [member="IC-104"]

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The misfortune of one Lannik Hayes continued as everything spiralled into chaos.

A shudder made its way through his person as he watched the two armoured figure went at it with impunity, exchanging heavy blows after heavy blows. If he had to describe the sheer lunacy of the situation he found himself in to another person in the future, the stormtrooper would have said that their clash was akin to Celestira Versus King Simian: The Ultimate Showdown. All he lacked was a huge bowl of popcorn and a nice cold glass of fizzyglug.

It was unfortunate for the sergeant that used to answer to FS-1606, however, that he could not leave things well alone. It was this need of his to ensure his charge was well and alive that he deserted the First Order to search for her. And now? This need of his was starting to tingle once more, even as his trigger finger of his dislocated – it better kriffing be dislocated and not broken! – arm was beginning to twitch.

It was swiftly becoming clear to the injured former officer that the two men were too far gone in their bloodlust to stop. And from how the ferrocrete wall cracked under the blow of the armoured giant, it was clear he was not a Force Sensitive like Lannik has presumed, but something more. Because while he had seen Agent Lati pull off some incredible feats due to her Force cheat card, he had not seen her breaking though a bunker wall even with her armour and reinforced strength.

This made what he was about to do even worse.

There came a time in a man’s life where he has to take a stand and say – Stop, this is enough.

And today was the day for Lannik.

As the third of their trio darted out from between the wall and the giant, the stormtrooper found himself worried for a moment. No matter that the other had threatened his life just a few minutes, Lannik knew him just a little longer than the unknown armour. The rough voice that came from his tentative ally was worrying as he accused the other of following them, but the stormtrooper did not know the other well enough to realise this was not normal. Lannik found himself freezing right after the stranger had exclaimed that they were the ones that were from the First Order.

It was the final push the usually sensible former sergeant needed to act.

Realising that they were not going to stop and listen to reason when the stranger pulled out a blaster and fired two shots towards the giant. Lannik decided to do something that he usually chided Agent Lati for, something that he can only define as ‘temporary insanity’ and ‘suicidally stupid’.

He fiddled with his own blaster, his hurt dominant arm making his movements a little slower and stilted as he shifted it into stun mode. But no matter how incapacitated he was, the former officcer has spent a decade of his life in the stormtrooper corps. Holding his weapon in his left arm in an awkward angle, Lannik Hayes waited and observed their movements carefully, firing off two bolts – the first aimed for their newest addition and the second towards his ally.

“Look here, you obstinate karks. Before you further mess up both of your pretty faces, we’re going to do this elusive thing called a talk. Ever heard of it? I hear it works wonders when it comes to solving problems.” In pain, overwrought, and at the end of his limited patience, Lannik snapped at the two idiots, despite knowing that either of them can easily end him. Letting his own blaster fall to his side, the stormtrooper stepped forward, enjoying the brief silence of the cavern.

He looked at their armoured forms, admiring the sheen of the metal for a moment as he gathered his thoughts and started to speak. “Neither me, nor my giant companion here is from the First Order. I can’t speak for him, but I made the decision to take off and drop kick that chit soon after my charge disappeared. I’m merely here in hopes that she has followed the mass exodus.” And Lannik hoped that she was somewhere on Byss, because despite all the troubles she has heaped on his head, he’s grown fond of his superior and did not want to discover that she has been culled along with the other Ren.

“If either of you have seen her, or heard of her – her name’s Lati, by the way – she’s a tall blonde, and tends to wander around looking lost, I’d appreciate if you could point me in her direction or let her know that former Sergeant Lannik Kriffing Hayes is looking for her idiotic self.”

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[Kier Grey]

Kyle Weir
Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Tags: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Cynthia Alucard"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"], [member="Max Fel"], [member="IC-104"], [member="Zesiro"], [member="Varian Alaric"]

Amur directed Kyle's movements like a playwright manipulated a puppet controlling their limbs. The man, Varian produced an archaic firearm and discharged its' loaded contents towards the Demon, it stuck their armoured frame visibly punching through that protective metal skin in visible claret puffs of sparks and blood it gave them pause. A veil of smoke rose towards Cave's ceiling, after it passed Varian's gaze was revealed with a horrible truth. Defiance had been rewarded with nothing, in the absence of pain one-hand lunges forward and wrapped around Alaric's weapon snatching it clear from his grip with an effortless tug for that Supersoldier the difficulty was akin to seizing some toy from a naughty child.

The Oak stock of Varian's shotgun wheeled around in Amur's clenched fist, wielding it like some simple cudgel aiming a powerful swing at where Varian's jaw should have been under their protective helmet. "Yes Kiiiiiiii-" Everything went dark for but a split-second as a ring of cobalt-blue energy slammed into Whir's body, Kyle's lungs took a sharp breath of fresh air with knees plunging down into ice and slow buried upto the frozen watery substance to their elbows palms braced against some rocky surface concealed under a thick white sheet. Unlike most, they had not been rendered unconscious another boon of their augmentations an absence of memory regarding the last thirty seconds revealed what had happened: Amur had seized control.

Brass Eye lenses crane upwards, the Sergeant stood steadily humble and embarrassed by whatever Chaos their inner demon had orchestrated, no doubt it had something to do with the cloaked figure who had squished under them and a metal tube with an oak stock that Kyle's spheres recognise as a slugthrower from the way its' firing chamber was hinged open displaying a pair of discharged slugs. Two crimson streams visibly trickled down their armour and coagulated into a rich dark gel rapidly, Brass-coloured tandem eye lenses looked over to Lannik listening their statement with piqued curiosity before looking down to a drowsy Varian. Nodding their head. "Sergeant Whir." Introducing themself, Kyle stepped away from Varian walking in Lannik's direction, flippantly dismissing the former and refusing to speak of whatever just happened save for a single dry and metallic comment.

"Work on your aim by the way." Kyle's boot gave the unceremoniously splayed man's body a soft but derisive kick. A gauntlet disappeared into one of the black leather pouches fasteneed on a belt around a pair of wide hips producing a vial of Green Liquid but Whir did not offer it for Lannik. Kyle instead rammed this vial into their own vial with the tell-tale hiss of an autoinjector and couldn't help but shiver pleasurably as the hot searing anger bubbling across their frontal lobe subsided. Eyes refocused on Lannik, listening to his words and the quest he was on to discover a woman by his own admission. "Lati?" Kyle asked blinking thoughtfully. "Name doesn't ring a bell, sorry." ​Their inner detective was beginning to take over, or whatever passed for an inner detective. "Hayes. What else can you tell me about this woman you're looking for? I might be able to help you." With a pause Kyle continued to elaborate. "I'm with Coruscant Security these days, might be able to chase up some leads." Their face as expressionless as the snow beneath boots, the warrior's helmet pivots over left-shoulder shooting an austere glance to Varian. "You know a woman with that description and identity?" Kyle asked, leaving sure to leave no stone unturned even as the subject of their question seemed to struggle sluggishly out of a blanket of snow.

 

[Har'xa Escala]

Har'xa Escala, Fleet Admiral
Equipment: Winter Gear, Helmet and Chestplate, Code Cylinders, Blaster Pistol, Vibrodaggers
Location: Trenches, Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Status: Irritated
Interacting with: [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Allies: [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Zesiro"] | [member="IC-104"]

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Standing within each other’s vicinity in the harsh environment of the polar region, both Har’xa Escala and the young lady he had assigned as part of his team were as mismatched as they came. As an Epicanthix, his dimensions were an outlier, and the only equipment that came close to fitting him well were the winter gear that he had brought aboard with him.

His protection only consisted of a helmet and a chestplate, and both were ill-fitting pieces that compressed against his temples and the bruises that he had acquired during their untimely landing. And if it was not for the fact that it would be exceedingly foolish to wander into a conflict zone without any protection, the Admiral would have declined such restrictive gear. He made a silent promise to himself that he would be travelling everywhere, even if it was a short transfer, with a case containing equipment that actually fitted him in the future.

Other than the howling winds and the sound of battle in the distance, it was quiet. But with the crash of the survey vessel, all the officers and crew aboard knew it was just a matter of time before they encountered opportunists from the opposition. The first few teams moved out into the trench to secure their exit point, their movements cautious and weapons raised at ready.

“As our best chances is to rejoin the main army at the frontlines, we will proceed onwards carefully. Expect battle, and give no quarter to any who is not dressed in our colours. In case we are separated, you are to follow the orders and directions of the most senior officers in your team.”

It was with much displeasure to his already wretched day that the older Escala realised that standing at his full height meant that he was exposed. Or rather, his chest, shoulders, and head were exposed, peeking well past the edge of the trench. Some of the taller men and women were advancing with their back stooped, but with his remarkable height, the act was more awkward for the Epicanthix to emulate.

Taking a deep breathe through his nose, and exhaling it sharply out of his mouth, Har’xa joined his colleagues with his own blaster pistol in hand. His back bowed low, hunched until his body almost bent in half as they made their way carefully into the maze of trenches, using the sounds of explosions and lasers to guide their path.

He gave the Wing Commander an approving nod at her vigilance, “Alucard, while I know you are an experienced officer and pilot, do you have any experience with ground melee?” She was both calm and alert, seemingly prepared for whatever fate saw fit to throw in their path.

And before the Admiral could hear the young woman’s answer, a sudden yelp of surprise broke their hushed conversation. Immediately, each and every member of the survey vessel fell into high alert as they realised it was their first encounter with the opposition. Har’xa himself prepared for the appearances of more foes, now that they have been alerted to their presences.

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[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Equipment: Uniform & Trench Coat - Vibroblade - Heavy Blaster Pistol​

Location: Front Line Trenches - Polar Regions, Byss​

Status: Leading by Example​

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About twenty minutes had passed since the leader of the Empire had arrived, the morale of Imperial troops beginning to dwindle as they happened upon their final roadblock. One of the last trenches that stood between them and victory, heavily manned and heavily shielded from artillery fire. Graf knew damn well that if he ordered the soldiers to storm across no man's land towards that trench, they would die for nothing. He could see the turrets swivelling on their mounts, scanning the area for any threats.

The dictator had one more ace up his sleeve, they just needed to get t-

BANG

Graf and the hundreds of others that lined the inside of the trench turned near-simultaneously, some raising their electrobinoculars to their eyes, attempting to locate the source of the thundering boom and loud hydraulics in the distance. The High Chancellor himself was handed a pair of binoculars and proceeded to see what he could make out through them, something that made him smirk.

​

He returned the binoculars to their owner, considering something internally for a moment before turning back to face the enemy trench. "Tell your men to wait until the walkers are in range to charge." He commanded, the snowtrooper officer he was addressing nodding in acknowledgement, "Let the turrets lock onto the armour, we can minimize casualties." The older man walked to the edge of the trench, pulling his overcoat tighter around him, the frigid weather just pissing him off rather than killing him.

He glanced down at his snow-covered boots and decided then and there that he'd have a hot bath after this trivial business was done and the planet was his. This entire conflict could've been avoided, after all, had the preceding government taken their failure to be re-elected with some semblance of grace. His hand curled into a fist as the other grabbed the blaster pistol holstered on his hip.

Cannon fire began to be exchanged between the AT-ATs and the turrets in the enemy trenches, the bolts of energy bouncing off of the durable armour of the Imperial war machine. Graf retrieved his holocommunicator and pressed a button, the air around them suddenly being filled with the shriek of a whistle. The thousands of stormtroopers and army troopers erupted into a unified battle cry as they jumped from their trenches and charged toward the enemy.

Not to be outdone, Graf vaulted forth and began to sprint forward, the battle having resumed with renewed vigour.

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[member="Max Fel"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="IC-104"] | [member="Zesiro"] | [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Varian Alaric"]​

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Commander
Location: Byss, Trenches, Hostile Territory
Nearby: [member="Har'xa Escala"]
Status: Down a Knife and Already Tired

Cyn smiled, despite herself knowing the terrible situation she found herself in but being the first to scout ahead brought along several survival qualities. I'm the one with the initiative, and thus can choose to retreat. She treated her ground tactics as she would in space when piloting her TIE, the Interceptors were designed with being the first to take action and effectively choosing their engagements. Cyn knew her capabilities of a ground troop was severally lacking in many areas, I just hope the rest of my group can pick up my slack.

The snow continued to fall, nowhere near the vicious nature it had done so before but it made sight unguided by a HUD difficult past a few meters at a time. Cyn turned to face her Admiral, he had asked her about any experience on the ground since even though all pilots go through basic training at the academy and learn the most rudimentary of close quarter combat, none would ever be put in a place to constantly apply what they learned. Don't practice, and you'll forget it.

Sounds of blaster fire cut her train of thought, and instead of answering her Admiral, she figured that perhaps she'll be able to show her experience first hand. Cyn positioned her combat knife at the ready with her left hand and her right held tightly to her blaster pistol. Multi-directional fire, not the ideal circumstance, but this made her decision simpler. Just gotta pick which side, and push through.

Careful but quick steps, Cyn needed to secure a part of the trench to properly defend so she moved ahead towards one of the corners of the trenches that sounds of footsteps were coming. The blaster rifle peaked out and Cyn waited a moment longer before her knife lodged itself into the trigger and firing finger of the enemy soldier.

The quickness of the sudden attack bought Cyn enough time to raise her blaster pistol upwards and right below the soldier's chin, she squeezed the trigger once and watched the body slump to the icy floor. The next soldier that followed held better chance and swung his blaster rifle towards Cyn but she had already ducked below his sights and charged the larger soldier low.

The soldier struck down with his rifle to intercept the little demon of a TIE Commander, but met only air as Cyn launched herself behind the trooper and delivered a kick right in the back of the knee and watched the soldier buckle down to the ground with a grunt. Before though Cyn could deliver another execution shot with her pistol, she ducked back to avoid the third soldier that charged to attack.

I better see command deck plates beneath my feet for now on exclusively.

 

[Varian Alaric]

Varian Alaric "Corvus"
Mercenary | Gun for Hire | Bounty Hunter
Polar Zone, Byss
Interacting With: [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"]
___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Varian had been standing there amongst the fallen snow, a weapon in hand and an intent to kill, a glare to kill, burned into his blue irises. He had just been getting started in taking down whatever this creature was with his shotgun. However, within the next moment, everything began to blur and fold in on itself together. The armored form he was fighting suddenly had grabbed his shotgun out of his hands and had intended to hit him with it. And then, the said armored form began to stumble and move sluggishly before crumpling to the ground in a heap of clattering metal plates against aged concrete. At first, the former Knight of Ren had assumed that he had bested this First Order assassin somehow, someway. Despite its resilience so far, it had appeared to the man, that, those shotgun slugs had finally defeated this monster of a creature, whether man or machine, it had been 'defeated.' At least, that was until Varian felt something zap at his back. It was a blaster of some sort that negated armor, passing through all of the worn and scarred metal plates with relative ease despite all of the defensive measures created for this suit of armor. Out of all things he could have been shot by, it most likely had been a blaster configured to the 'stun' setting. It was the only thing that could do something to this effect. The electrical zap had treated his armor like it were nothing like it had just been paper.

And then everything began to fade away as the world began to tilt horizontally and Alaric felt as though he was falling...falling......falling, into a black void.

A hard jab in his side prompted the male to awaken, at least somewhat, from his slumber. His eyes struggled to open, fluttering open and closed as Varian forced himself to sit up. As he moved, the snow that had fallen and that had become blanketed over his limp form began to fall from his armored form, gathering in white clumps on the weathered concrete ground. His head felt like it was throbbing in pain all as he was doing this, even the most subtle movements, even the slowest movements of his aching arms and legs caused pain to flare up in his temple. All, Alaric assumed, were side effects of being stunned. Though truth be told, he had no idea. He had never been stunned beforehand, this was his first time actually being stunned. And it felt like a hangover more than anything else. Varian slowly moved his body upwards and against one of the walls of the underground bunker, taking off his helmet and placing it at his side, leaning his head against the wall. His normally well-kept hair now, instead, stuck to the man's forehead in a messy sweat. Running a hand through his hair, Alaric turned to the stormtrooper and the armored figure from before.

“Neither me, nor my giant companion here is from the First Order. I can’t speak for him, but I made the decision to take off and drop kick that chit soon after my charge disappeared. I’m merely here in hopes that she has followed the mass exodus.”

"You say you've, the both of you that is, have defected from the First Order? Give me proof of this, and then, I might believe you."

“If either of you have seen her, or heard of her – her name’s Lati, by the way – she’s a tall blonde, and tends to wander around looking lost, I’d appreciate if you could point me in her direction or let her know that former Sergeant LannikKriffing Hayes is looking for her idiotic self.”

"Lati? Marr...Marriskcal Lati, that, that's her name. She's part of Sieger Ren's Order of Ren, more specifically, his personal Praetorian Guard, or at least was before she went missing. Hm, have you tried Courscant? Perfect place for somebody to get lost and dissapear in, I know, that's how I escaped the First Order once myself..."

Marr, she's missing?

 

[Har'xa Escala]

Har'xa Escala, Fleet Admiral
Equipment: Winter Gear, Helmet and Chestplate, Code Cylinders, Blaster Pistol, Vibrodaggers
Location: Trenches, Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Status: Hopeful
Interacting with: [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Allies: [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Max Fel"] | [member="Zesiro"] | [member="IC-104"]

​

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And before the Admiral could hear the young woman’s answer, a sudden yelp of surprise broke their hushed conversation. Immediately, each and every member of the survey vessel fell into high alert as they realised it was their first encounter with the opposition. Har’xa himself prepared for the appearances of more foes, now that they have been alerted to their presences.

While he had not been given a choice this time, it did not stop the embers of his annoyance from flaring into flames of resentment. It had been two, almost three decades since Har’xa has found himself involved in such a messy… conflict. Despite his heritage, and his wife’s insistence that he continued to sharpen and hone his skills in the art of Teräs Käsi, the older male much preferred to conduct his warfare in the vast expanse of space.

As the young woman moved to take cover at one of the twists and turns that were dug into the trenches, the Admiral and the rest of their group did the same, each of them moving and taking the most advantageous positions they could in preparation for contact. When Alucard lashed out at the first foe in a preemptive strike, the Epicanthix found himself admiring her resolve and swiftness.

It was clear from her ruthless action as she dispatched the enemy soldier that she held no illusions that they were in the midst of a battle. While it was something Har’xa has always lamented, most beings who served exclusively in the navy had the tendency to hesitate when they were confronted with hostilities. And perhaps, he would be one of them as well, if not for the fact that he was expected to serve on the frontlines of a ground warfare as befitting his position as Head of House Escala and Grand Margrave if the situation demanded it of him.

As the blonde moved to intercept the third foe that was moving in to reinforce and advance their line, the Epicanthix lunged forward, the swiftness of his movement belying his mass. With a firm stomp on the spine of the second soldier to incapacitate him, the male pulled out his own blaster pistol, firing a shot to the back of his head.

Behind them, the rest of their ragged crew was beginning to push forward, in hopes of repelling the opposition, and hopefully push forward further down the line until their technicians managed to contact the nearest ground command. It was then that laser fire began to soar high above them, and the distant cries of renewed vigour began to resound in the air.

Was the tide of the battle beginning to turn?

While his own hope grew, Har’xa knew they were still a distance away. But anything that increased morale would only aid them in surviving the remaining stretch.

“Let us continue to be careful as we advance. Do not rush ahead.”

With a cautionary reminder to his subordinates, the brunet rejoined the fray.

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Lannik Hayes
Equipment: Stormtrooper Armour, Vibrodagger, Blaster
Location: Polar Zone, Byss, Deep Core
Status: Relieved
Interacting with: [member="Kyle Whir"] | [member="Varian Alaric"]

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​

There was a part in him that began to shriek that the situation was not normal when his giant companion merely picked himself up in an almost nonchalant manner, looking unaffected, as though Lannik did not just fire a potent beam of energy at him. The alarms in his head began to blare even louder when he noticed the twin trails of blood that was oozing out from where it had punctured through his armour, and that its flow was slowing and colour darkening, as though it was a wound he sustained an hour ago, rather than ten seconds before.

What are you?

What was inexplicable to Lannik, however, was how the other did not seem to be hindered by the injury he had sustained. While the former sergeant wanted to question the other and had his suspicions confirmed, now was not the time for it. Even then, he was not owed an answer, and the male knew well enough about the need for silence. A wrong word said in the wrong place or time could get you killed, after all. And whatever his new acquaintance has been put through was probably something he did not have clearance for… nor wanted to know about for the matter.

All the stormtrooper cared about what whatever it was that has driven his giant companion into mindless fury had dissipated by now and the other seemed calm enough and unwilling to continue the altercation with the stranger. As the now identified Sergeant Whir stepped in his direction, Lannik allowed his blaster to fall back to his side, more relieved that the situation had diffused than anything else. The very soul of discretion despite his internal curiousity, he said nothing when the green liquid disappeared into the giant’s system.

Noticing the movement from the third of their motley trio, who proved his remark about their pretty face to be true with his helmet, the former sergeant turned to regard the weakened man. He watched carefully as the other struggled to sit upright, leaning against the wall of the bunker as he looked dazed and in great discomfort. And honestly, Lannik did not envy him at all. Civilians, and others who were less resilient sometimes threw up when they were hit with a stun bolt. But at least his mission of stopping them from killing each other was achieved, and neither of them looked like they were about to tear each other’s throat out anymore.

Whir spoke, but before Lannik could provide further information on his charge, Third interjected. The former sergeant allowed a snort to escape him as he looked down at the weakened body of the man. While he also had a remarkable recovery time, it was clear that unlike Whir, Third was still feeling its aftereffects. “I’m just a number. I doubt I’m important enough to even make a blip on their radar.” Especially not where the mass exodus included higher echelons and the like. “Anyway, isn’t the fact that either of us left you alive proof enough? Considering you’ve said enough for us to gather that you’re on the run from the First Order.”

And then, Third spoke, the full name of the blonde agent leaving his lips. Beneath his standard issue helmet, his dark eyes widened, the information that the other was spilling confirming that he once had close contact with his charge. While Lannik has clearly known that despite her ‘official’ position as an agent under the Security Bureau, Lati was part of the Order of Ren, he had not divulged the information. He had only given them the bare bones of the information he had, and only because his worry for her was beginning to outweigh his need to remain silent.

But as Third continued to reveal more hidden knowledge, the mystery of her disappearance only became all the more intricate. A Praetorian Guard? What the kark, Lati. It suddenly made a whole lot of sense why she had trouble when it came to a great many things that came naturally to most beings.

Despite finding himself with more questions from the revelation, Lannik kept his composure and the shade of his voice deceivingly casual. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s never hinted at being a part of the Guards or anything of the sort throughout our working relationship, but it’s definitely her you’re talking about.” Then again, it took him several months before he even learned her given name. The Ren were faceless and nameless, beings who worked from the shadows, after all.

“I have an image of her and some basic information, if you feel it’ll help,” the stormtrooper said, holding out a memory chip for Whir to take. The information was as scant as they came, and Lannik doubted that most of them were even true, considering it was from the Security Bureau. Probably, the only thing that was not falsified was her name, image, and the security clearance that he had needed to submit reports on her behalf.

“I’ll be stuck here for kriff knows how long. So I’ll appreciate any leads you may find.”

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Commander
Location: Byss, Trenches, Hostile Territory
Nearby: [member="Har'xa Escala"]
Status: Tired

​

The third, and last enemy soldier, stood slightly unsure of which enemy to fire and Cyn pounced at the opportunity presented. Her gloved fingers quickly wrapped around the hilt of her combat knife and threw herself quickly to move out of the soldier's sight and towards his side. Cyn searched with her eyes, laser focused on one of the softer parts of the the body, the back join behind the knee as before.

Only this time, Cyn stabbed her combat knife and yanked it back out, the feeling of cartilage and joints splintering as her knife was drugged out only confirmed her attack was a success to the TIE Commander.

The cries of the injured soldier only served to indicate to her that her targeted noticed the pain and was about to respond. The swiftness of his counter was admirable but Cyn already backed off in time to barely see the butt of the blaster rifle swing by her face. Her knife still fresh with the soldier's blood snapped forward to meet against her final target.

Cyn pressed her knife's edge directly into the exposed throat as she moved closer to the soldier, her other hand pressed against the back of the hilt and provided more strength to drive the killing strike. With a garbled yelp and some flailing of the soldier's still functional limbs, the enemy soldier slumped back and Cyn continued to the drive the knife deeper and with a simple twist she pulled the blade back out.

With a flick of her wrist, most of the blood flicked off the knife and Cyn quickly rubbed the rest with the pant-leg before she slid the weapon back into it's holder on the side of her hip. The sounds of combat had only momentarily subsided, but with the encounter of the initial scouting elements of the enemy, Cyn only feared more would quickly follow.

Eyes of piercing blue, she surveyed the trench ahead and looked back to the rest of her party. Her eyes slightly widened at the realization that her Admiral had dispatched the second solder she previously left so she could handle the third. The boot firmly sat ontop of the back of the poor soldier and with a single execution shot to the back of the head, Cyn nodded once.

One of their remaining crew members quickly approached both the Admiral and Cyn, his words quick and steady "-Our limited scanners have picked up several heavy armor presences, our heavy armor, and that they are due west from our position."

Cyn understood why they encountered these first initial forces, no doubt escaping from the the Imperial Walkers that were reported some time ago to have been sent to end this battle quickly. With a nod to the crew member, Cyn turned to her admiral and gestured ahead. She hoped that the enemy had not cut their losses and begun to flee. As they were no doubt in the patch of their escape and would face the brunt of the opposition.

"Hammer and the Anvil, but a weak Anvil will only break has the hammer approaches." Cyn mumbled reproachfully to herself, while a few well entrenched soldiers with good equipment could hold off an attacking element of soldiers. The crew of the crashed vessel were none of that perhaps save the soldier part and maybe if given time the entrenched part as well.

Even as I ran as fast as I can, the devil always seems able to keep up.