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Ryloth's soil absorbed her fallen tears readily, as if the world itself was always waiting pain to rain down upon it. It rained down now, Daiya could almost feel the collective shudder of grief around her. It seeped into her being, an unwelcome guest, even if a familiar one to her. She nearly reached for the satchel carried regularly by her side, her hand grasping for the familiar shape of her holojournal, upon which she would normally paint the vivid images of her visions. The girl gaped open-mouthed as her hand closed on nothing, feeling frantically by her side for the satchel and its precious datapad, before remembering that it was already clutched tightly against her.
The breaths that caught in her throat came easier now, relief flooding through her like warmth in the cooling twilight air.
A mirthless laugh escaped her lips as the girl looked down at the device in her hands. She turned it on again, reeling at the first image to assault her eyes. A vicious memory of a future long past. Tapping a few times, Daiya moved past the images, willing herself to forget how callously the Twi'lek brats had scanned through them. Reaching the end, the girl was pleased to find them all still saved and intact. She smiled at the reprieve, and at the latest image in her collection. There, staring up at her from the screen, was the nearly-complete figure of a pink polka-dotted matanga on roller skates. The amusing image drew a more earnest giggle from her, finding the will to stand and put away the datapad.
Daiya glanced about, taken aback by the transformation of the festival from only a few minutes ago. The carefree adventures and celebration of the Ryloth inhabitants had quickly scattered, thinning like the crowds as fear and uncertainty took their place. It was a sobering moment, though the girl held fast to the mental image of her pink creation, unwilling to let herself be broken down like that again. Tawrro wasn't here to pull her back to reality, so she had to figure it out herself.
The reality was, however, that the festival was over and it was time to stop dawdling. The Darkwire agent had a job to do, a job that relied on the chaos she was witnessing.
Yet an ever-present question weighed in on the reality of her task, just how she was supposed to make it into the Viceroy's Manor? There was no telling what swarms of security would be massing now to protect the upper crust of the Confederacy's visiting elites. It wasn't surprising to her that Ms. Sun had wanted a single operative, and observing the number of kids her age around the festival, Daiya could see why she was chosen. Still, this was one of those times that she missed having someone like Tawrro planning out their next steps. Going it alone in the middle of a warzone and still measuring up to Darkwire's expectations for this job was going to be tough.
So obviously, no pressure.
Silvery hair caught the girl's idle eyes, and at first she didn't give it a second thought. Then it came again, and Daiya looked closer. Was that...? Her briefing on the mission had covered the Who's Who of Confederacy players, but Daiya had needed no such introduction to spot Srina Talon, Exarch of the Confederacy and just generally a-mazing. She had thumbed over that dossier a bit too many times on her travel to Ryloth, but the girl had never expected to actually see her here. In the flesh, standing just meters away!
"Oh my gosh, it's really you, isn't it? THE Srina Talon? I'm, like, one of your biggest fans!" Daiya couldn't help gushing as she approached the Confederate Exarch, unable to stop herself. It was a good thing now that Tawrro wasn't here, he would have been embarrassed by all this, she was usually much more cool-headed with adults. The words just tumbled out of her mouth, "You're so pretty and cool and powerful. It's super sexy!"
The teen clamped a palm over her mouth, her cheeks growing pink as she realized what she had just said. It wouldn't have been so bad if her idol was alone, but she was surrounded by a group of people, a few of whom looked like the woman's personal friends. She had only just chastised and chased a trio of bullies for browsing through her private thoughts, and here she was spouting them aloud for anyone to hear. Where was her vision for this moment, so she could have avoided it?!
Hoping the statement hadn't caused the Exarch as much alarm as it had her, Daiya tried to cover her embarrassment with a giggle and move on. "I know you must get this a lot, but..." she pulled out her datapad again, turning it on and offering it to the woman, "Could I please get your autograph?"
A split second later, she pulled it back, realizing that she had left the holojournal app on the last image she made. "Oops," the girl blurted out, quickly flipping the screen to a new canvas and even pulling out the stylus for Srina's convenience before turning the datapad and her biggest pleading face back to the woman. "There, on that page, please?"
Captain Clark looked at the readings on his sensor array. The ship hadn’t strayed from its course. They weren’t taking the bait. And even at this rate, they wouldn’t be able to get its shields down with the ammunition that remained. Even with the arrival of reinforcements from Vis’s fleet, they were forced to one last move. One final trump card to play. Captain Clark looked across the room as he surveyed all under his command. All of the men aboard fighting to try and do everything they could to finish this fight. Finish the mission. Uphold their oaths. They couldn’t give up now, not when the end was in sight.
His orders would cause the room to go dead silent.
“All gunners cease fire, Engineering, put all power into the engines, override any safeties or limiters that haven’t already been overridden. Gun 3, disengage safety limiter for your cannon. Override code Alpha Zulu One Niner Tree, Authorization Captain Clark, Confirmation code One Five Five Six Four Eight Zero,”
They all knew what he’d just done. They were about to play their final act, unleash the final word. They were about to all see what the Hades could actually do, without any safeties, any limitations put in place by the ship. They would put every last drop of power in the capacitor systems, and all of the power draw from the reactor into one, final shot. And his next orders would only solidify this.
“Helm set course to ram their engines, we must use the Aegis to break their shields to get a clear shot,”
Captain Clark had literally just signed off on all of their deaths. There wasn’t a word of protest. A cry for mercy. A thought of regret. They all knew what they had to do. The Aegis would accelerate even faster now as it raced to catch back up with the Golden Lance, pushing the entirety of the crew to the very limits of their constitution and just trying to stay awake to complete the mission. As the ship rocketed forward however the bridge would be dead silent. Some would say silent prayers. Some would close their eyes and cry. The only people left on the bridge with a job now, was the gunner for Turret 3, his EWar crewmember counterpart, the Helmsman, the damage control officer, and Captain Clark. Across the ship systems things would begin breaking across the ship. Fires would start as this ship was now well outside of what it was designed to do. Automated fire suppression systems would activate and droids would be deployed to contain them, but it was only putting a bandaid on the problem. Even the heat shielding on the engines would begin to groan and creak, and cracks would begin to form from the massive output of raw power. To any who would look at the ship, its purpose was now clear. Where before they were just attempting to get the Battlecruiser to wave off, to redirect, to accept the challenge presented, now, they were gonna have to kill it. For Captain Clark, his entire life would flash before his eyes.
He saw the first day he signed up in the Confederate Naval Defense Forces, the day he graduated as a Helmsman first class. His first real battle on his Frigate in a war forgotten in a distant time. He remembered the day he received a battlefield commission when both the CO and XO of his light cruiser fell when the bridge was directly hit by a hyper velocity cannon, and he somehow survived. How being in his space suit had saved him from the decompression, and how he’d personally taken command of the vessel and saw the rest of the crew to safety. His ceremony for officially receiving his first officer’s commission in the Navy as a Captain. All of the fighting he saw on the front lines as a heavy frigate commander and his promotion to lower admiral, and receiving his first command. His trial and dishonorable discharge from the Confederate Navy. And how when all had seemed lost, his life without purpose, one man had found him and offered him a second chance. A chance to no longer fight for politics, for the whims of someone who knew not the plight of the people. A chance to fight for someone who knew they had to do the right thing. And next would be all of the battles that the Aegis had led the charge into, leading the way for others to follow. A light to look to for those seeming to be at the end of their rope. Hope, that somehow, they would find a way to win the battle, no matter how desperate. That they would see the day won against any and all odds. How time and time again, it seemed that they had cheated death. Now, through all of the battles, of the hardship, all of the pain and suffering he and his crew had suffered, they had a chance to make a real difference. His mind would wander through all of the people he’d met along the way. All of the friends he’d ever made.
The one woman he’d ever loved.
But all had to be forsaken for the greater good. The Dire Wolves believed that through their sacrifice of a chosen, well trained, completely voluntary few, the many would be spared. And now their last hope was all bet on this one final move. This last desperate act of a few good, honest men. Men who were willing to throw their lives away if it meant they could save just a few more lives. To give the people on the surface one more chance. They just needed one final push. They were on the goal line. They were right there. The Aegis was now pure speed, with a single really big gun, with a round designed to tear holes through Star Destroyers and their shields with a single, final, shot. And they were closing on The Golden Lance fast. They wouldn’t be ignored. They would not go quietly. They would not give up without giving it everything. Captain Clark would begin to sing quietly over the intercom to calm his crew. It was an old song. One that he’d learned from back home, from his mother on the day his father himself had given his life in defense of the Confederacy. As people began to black out from the massive over Gs of their ship, some dying outright due to their brains literally having massive aneurysms, a calm would take over the ship. A few would even weakly sing along, knowing a few verses of the song.
The Aegis no longer had shields, no weapons firing. It was a massive composite metal spear hurtling through the black of space. And even in the chaos of the ship literally trying to tear itself apart by going well above and beyond its design limitations, the crew was at peace. It was their last hope. Their last option. Their only move left.
TLDR:
The Aegis is now seeing that The Golden Lance has not turned away nor strayed from its objective. Upon realizing that they will not be dissuaded or goaded into a fight, Captain Clark is now closing upon The Golden Lance with his ship by ceasing all fire of his ship weapons, and shunting all available power into the engines, and has enacted The Final Protocol. Turret number three on the vessel has loaded in it’s right barrel a single Armor Piercing Discard Sabot Round, meant to crack through the hulls and shields of Star Destroyers and much larger ships with a single shot, however this can only be done by disengaging all safeties on the weapon system, and setting it to maximum power. Captain Clark’s plan is to break through the shields of The Golden Lance with the Aegis being used as a battering ram with it’s pure weight and speed, and once through to ram the engines of The Golden Lance to try and cripple the vessel. At the same time, the moment the ship punches through Turret number 3 will fire, and attempt to compromise The Golden Lance’s hypermatter reactor with its shot. Everyone on The Aegis is now absolutely certain this will kill them, because all earlier testing of The Hades and the Aegis’s capacitor system shows that when this is done, at best when the ship is at full strength, this kind of shot will cripple the vessel. But with this plan, The Aegis has a 99.999% chance of this kind of discharge causing the reactor to overload and detonate turning the ship into a bomb in its current state. And at its current rate of acceleration, it will catch the Golden Lance by the next turn. It is approaching The Golden Lance from the six o'clock position and is 15 degrees below being parallel with the vessel.
Location: Dirtside on Ryloth, hunting AoC
Gear:
Gen 2 Armor, M-416, L-7 pistol, also all standard squad leader kit listed here
Sergei was cracking open the crates that had been jettisoned with them. Onboard, he found what he was looking for. Ammunition, weapons, and a lot of it. Sergei was quick to issue his orders.
"Take only what we can carry, burn the rest, have the droids carry whatever supplies they can,"
All of the crates were summarily stripped. Belts of ammunition, mortar shells, light mortars, all of the ammunition for their rifles, and even more heavy weapons were unloaded. They strapped multiple M-2 HMGs and M-19 GMGs to the bigger droids, getting the extra weight off of everyone else, meanwhile each soldier stocked themselves with as much ammo as they possibly could in record time. And whatever they knew they couldn't carry, they piled up in the center, and placed incendiary charges to destroy, the thermite cutting through the durasteel and all the other materials in these weapons like butter. And satisfied with this, Sergei signaled to all that they were to move out. Moving in a standard double platoon wedge formation, Sergei was heading for the distress call, when he was interrupted by someone else over the comms.
"This is Beric Layne, Knight Obsidian. There is a group of mounted warriors charging the city. If there is anyone out there that has some heavy weapons or a convenient battalion of soldiers, now is your time,"
Sergei gripped his weapon tightly as he mentally cursed. He couldn't be so selfish as to go chasing after blood when he knew the city would be needing him more. How far had he risked falling? That he'd forsake his oaths just to go out and hunt for petty revenge? At this point Sergei knew that most of this wouldn't matter. He'd be on trial for breaking a contract in a combat zone, for authorizing his men to preemptively strike to protect the greater population. And to most politicians it would be a just deserts as nobody liked mercenaries. They were expendable. Cheap. They left no risk to whomever hired them. And in the long run, once the cards fell, Sergei knew he didn't really care about them either. Their policies. Their blustering.
Their Lies. Everyone's Lies.
Sergei had made himself a promise when he'd founded The Dire Wolves. He'd made every last man and woman in the company swear to that oath. That above all else, they would do whatever they could to spare the populations of where they fought. That they would fight to ensure that the average person didn't have to. To be a sword that would be wielded in the defense of all things good.
And these..... Agents of Chaos..... They were the very anti-thesis of what he stood for. They radicalized populations to do their bidding. The trained people to become terrorists, and then lied when they had peaceful intentions. Which was an odd thing to say while you were threatening someone with violence. They orchestrated this whole thing, and their complicit nature extended to them DOING NOTHING while one of their own was about to turn the surface of the planet into glass, killing millions! They literally stood by and watched. And only the Aegis was in a position to not only respond in time, but, to do so without waiting for approval. Sergei had condemned himself, and now whoever followed him to a life of being political criminals. Because unlike everyone else, they actually went and did the right thing.
Sergei no longer cared whether he lived or died here. The only thing that mattered was protecting the people.
He would redirect their formation, looking at the landing position of where these... horse mounted cavalry? They had even gotten rid of those on his home world where all fighting had turned to mechanized warfare, and they were literally eons behind the rest of the galaxy. And while they would have the advantage of speed, Sergei's men would have surprise, and tactics to win the day. He'd fought against mechanized battalions, he began laying plans as his men went to a rapid march across the field, they'd have to intercept the enemy en route. Hopefully they would have time to prepare, but Sergei didn't plan for it, knowing full well that his formation of commandos would more than likely be spotted unless these attackers straight up ignored them, or didn't have any kind of aerial surveillance. His men knew that speed was imperative now, not stealth. And thankfully their armor would protect them from the elements, the body gloves being rated for space and all its hazards after all. They just had to move quickly now, or risk not making it in time.
And letting those AoC karks having their way with civilians and anyone else they considered not them or unworthy to live.
TLDR
Sergei has dismantled all of the cargo of the Aegis and took with him what he can to move out. This includes infantry deployable mortars, machine gun ammo for general purpose and heavy machine guns, heavy weapons that include the M-2 HMGs, M-3 MAAWS, and M-19 GMGs. He has strapped the HMGs and M-19s with their tripods to the back of TCD-2s that are assigned to his unit, courtesy of his now void contract with CDF. He has plans to try and intercept Strider Garon
before he can get to the main bio dome, and his unit of 80 Commandos, 15 TCD-2s, and 25 TCD-1s are double timing it to their intercept point. However because they are on foot they will not reach him first if other people/units move to intercept him. Sergei knows that technically in the eyes of most politicians he is now considered a war criminal, and once the fighting/situation is resolved, is resolved to surrender himself peacefully. Until then, he is considering all parties connected to and/or affiliated with the AoC hostile and will only issue one warning for them to lay down their arms and surrender. This will however be over ridden if the AoC has already surrendered, or if CDF and AoC begin open combat.
(Many many apologies, forgot the ship link again. Sorry, sorry)
Annasari sat, listening intensely, and found herself leaning forward in anticipation as she waited to hear from the opposition. It was not them who spoke first, but the Viceroy, their newfound... acquaintance. When he spoke his first sentence, she had to hold back a gasp. Shock and rage threatened to boil over, but the woman somehow managed to keep ahold of it. Her hand fluttered about in her lap, slowly moving to her left wrist. She bumped the comlink that was attached to her suit, so his next words would be relayed.
"-emy. Yes, I knew what would come to Ryloth. That is why I sent word, by a trusted associate, to get the details that I knew of into Confederate hands.”
And just like that, Dibb's admission would be transmitted to Madalena Antares
She let her hand fall gradually back to her lap, hoping she didn't look suspicious enough to draw attention. Though the meeting was being filmed and was going to be public knowledge, she didn't think for a moment the individuals in the room would have taken kindly to her actions.
When John Locke
spoke next, she couldn't help but feel angrier. She wanted to defend the Agents, to explain why they had taken the course of action they did, but it would matter not. These people wanted to place the blame on them, to paint them as the bad guys. Besides, she would not stoop to his level by making this about Ryloth. She was here for one reason- to bear witness and help freedom ring for the Siskeeni people.
As he finished and Daegon Corvinus
started in, Annasari couldn't contain herself any further. For the first time since the meeting began, she decided to break her silence, adding on to Alwine Daye
's words.
"If our presence was not needed or wanted, we would not be here. We came only by invitation of the Viceroy, to help negotiate and make sure the Siskeeni people find their freedom. I haven't seen that started yet, so forgive me for maintaining my silence while you all play games and give each other gracious greetings. I, for one, shall not pretend the tension in this room isn't present, threatening to choke us all. Now, if you all agree, I'd say it's time to get to the grit of why we've gathered today."
As the pod finally land, Jai practically ran out and looked at everything. Please please please. It wasn't burning. Thank the Manda it wasn't burning! He took a breath, patting his Strill before looking towards the others. Any anxiety he had before seemed to be lifted, sighing a bit more before looking at the other.
"Ok. We're here, and they already want to kill us thanks to that freedom fighter. What's next?" He petted his Strill, looking at the others for an answer. So this was Ryloth. Nice place. A bit hot, but nice. He looked under his helmet, listening for any calls. He'd been studying up, just in case the opportunity to use a beast came up. His Strill seemed nervous though, which made Jai think something was up. Strill were good at finding trouble.
Location: CIS Base
Accompanied By: Eight Vuhyr'yalilyr Rammikade and Jare'la.
Immediate allies: Luna Terrik
, Allya Vi'Dreya
and any other CIS forces and allies at the base.
Immediate enemies: Strider Garon
, KKaine Australis
(by way of orbital bombardment), Oceiros Sunstrider
and any other AoC forces and allies threatening CIS positions and/or the people of Ryloth in the immediate vicinity.
Objective: Find out what in haran is going on, keep the shabuire at bay.
Shuklaar, Jare'la, Saram and her rammikade dropped down into the base as the whine from their packs cut out. Throughout their way here, their helmet's scanners were picking up all manner of signs that things were about to go very bad, very quickly. Traces of at least one explosion had been detected. There was a lot going on in the city, and right now neither Shuklaar nor Saram, nor any of her Commandos had been able to ascertain just what any of it meant. Now that they were at the CIS base, they hoped to correct that. Of course, they weren't going to stand around idly while that happened.
If he was leading an attack on Ryloth, one of his priority targets would be the CDF base, hit that and then you denied your enemy a staging point and a forward control center. With these Agents of Chaos di'kute, however, he had no idea what it was that they were going to do. The moment they hit the ground, however, Saram instantly began handing out tasking orders, "Ran, take Viraen, Anila and Vikhar, find someplace nice, high and out of the way to get set up. Rusana, Janar, get posted up too. I'll join you when I figure out what in haran's going on here. Jaing, if they're using comms, I want them."
"And I'm the one going to try and find out if the CDF has any immediate work for us?" asked Shuklaar, turning to look at Saram, his PPC-01 cradled in his arms. The blank faced momentary stare from Saram was all the answer he needed. A barely audible, "Wayii," escaped his lips as he switched active frequencies to the one used by the CDF, and then over short-wave comms said, "All CDF callsigns in the area, this is Davaab-6R, requesting tasking." Davaab six identified them as the Strill Securities commando team that was attending the parade, which made it obvious who was asking for what the haran they were supposed to do.
It was at this point that he was distinctly regretting not bringing more units with them. He would have killed for a Nuuhatyc recon droid or even a Haran'uliik recon speeder so that he could get some idea of just what the haran was going on in the city. The CIS probably had recon assets, but he wasn't quite connected into their battlenet. Unfortunately, at this moment, he didn't quite have quite such a formal deal with the CIS. He swore that before he ended up on a job for them next time, he was going to make sure that he got their relationship straightened out, and he was sure as haran going to bring more than one unit of admittedly very capable rammikade.
To think he used to think that his days were going to get very uneventful after he became company CEO, turns out the Sith proved him very wrong with their invasion, and that mad dash around settled space was more stressful than he was expecting it to be. Turns out though, the CIS had some interesting jobs, that business with on Thracior had actually been entertaining. Only he just had a bad feeling about things so far on Ryloth, that not only were things not going to be quite as smooth. He snorted as he reminded himself that, with extremists, things never really ever were.
Shuklaar, his droid and the commandos arrive at the CDF base. The commandos take up defensive positions ask for orders as he muses about only having brought a squad, and about the fact that he has an awful feeling about things to come.
The Nightmother looked around the now scarcely populated streets in her vicinity. Only minutes ago they had been packed full of sentients of all species, races, and creeds. Predominantly Twi'lek, of course, but not exclusively so. Despite what the intruders claimed, the Confederacy was not insular. It was not racist, bigoted, or otherwise predisposed to looking down upon the inhabitants of Ryloth. They may not be perfect, and there were undoubtedly some that were predisposed to thinking of Twi'lek as little more than dancers or slaves. They were wrong. Every time they reared their heads to make manifest their disgusting plans of restoring the slave trade, the Confederacy was there. The Mandragora were there.
While the Mandragora did not insert themselves needlessly into politics -- Vytal herself loathing Viceroyalty assemblies and functions -- they were not ignorant of things. The fate of this planet was certainly something they kept vigil over. Thriving Covens, Clans, Orders, or any other assembly of Witch did not thrive on a dead or dying world. Perhaps that was part of the plan this day. They might even leave a mark in the end, but they would not destroy the planet no matter how much effort it took to recover, the Confederacy would be there. The Mandragora would be there. It was their home. Its inhabitants their extended family. Their spirits eternal companions whispering of the Beyond.
It was this connection, this bond that set the Sisters and Brothers to work in the time afforded them. While some aided in ensuring the safety of the dome's inhabitants, others had been put to task by the Nightmother. Especially with regards to the entry points of the dome. What was to come, what would soon follow... it would carry a toll. How great Vytal could not say. Not, she hoped, as much as Atrisia where a world-net partitioning the cities had sapped her strength for some time. Yet, she could not be daunted by the possibility. Saving the innocent was more important than anything.
Vytal had drawn lines in the road with the butt of a Conduit of Souls. The now sparsely populated area had made itself of use, even whilst it would have better served a crowd of cheering, happy sentients celebrating their Founding as free people of Ryloth. The pieces were moving into position. The time on the clock was running down.
As she worked, the commlink came alive in the wake of another broadcast from Rylan Kordel
. "This is Nightmother Noctura, terrorists have executed a civilian, made known their intent to invade, bombed a nearby depot--" the sound of another explosion (Oceiros Sunstrider
) roared in the distance, briefly interrupting her reply "--and another location." Great Spirits guide the souls of whomever that had been intended to kill. "They intend to bombard this dome from orbit shortly. Please seek shelter in an emergency bunker immediately." Gather together. Close as you can. Did it make them targets? Would it have mattered? Terrorists were opportunists -- they would make targets.
With that said, Vytal stopped, and planted the Conduit in the ground beside the circle. With a heavy exhale, she moved toward the center as a great and terrible sense of dread of voices unknown crying out assailed her. Her bright, green eyes lifted in Julra's direction.
“They never give us extra time in the oil baths.”
It was a longstanding complaint, but those paper pushers back in the ministry of war on Geonosis wanted to account for every penny, every bolt, every drop of oil. They didn’t understand how wonderful it felt to sink into a hot oilbath, to be able to move without squeaking. They didn’t understand how important it was for a droid to experience the bliss of getting high.
It wasn’t something persay that Cupcake had ever done, but not for lack of trying! He was sure that if he looked hard enough, tried enough things that he’d eventually find something that would work. This was a party after all, there had to be someone somewhere smoking something, or injecting something that worked…right? The droid’s head swivelled from side to side as he followed his partner through the crowd, peering into every dark alley and stall. He was just doing his job, but if he happened across any drugs they would have to be tested right? To make sure that everyone was ok.
Although, somehow that didn’t seem so important right now.
The droid’s head tilted backwards, watching the smoke cloud billow up into the sky as orders flew over the comms. It..didn’t look like a nice place to be, not at all. But droids were the superior, they could handle this, they would come out ontop!
At least, that’s what he hoped.
The droid hefted the solid, reassuring blaster rifle in his hands, peering down into the darkness of the tunnel.
A surge. A light. Then access. Rooted into his very mind from the camera and datapad in his hand. Recording and broadcasting a orange-ish yellow twi'lek across the planet. Others ran past him but he stayed steady against the incoming flow of panick. People fleeing for their lives. He had no weapons to be seen, only his words and thoughts. His tongue.
Mechu
" Ryloth. I miss the days when safety wasn't a priority. Im tired of the bloodshed. Of the violence. I miss my blood in my embrace. The freedom of the wilds. My name is Jonn's. You dont know me but maybe IF you listen you will. I just want to see the sky. Feel the dirt and enjoy my craft without any taint. I work as a Beast handler or i did. My wife never enjoyed my craft but it paid so well. She was always concerned for my lil one. I was gone for weeks and days to aquire exotic beasts and submit them to our will.
There is something so majestic about watching a wild creature with the power to crush you come to an understanding and see through your eyes. And you theirs. If only I could show you. I can only tell you."
While they were initially assigned as a support unit as part of the Confederacy contingency force, tasked with staying well out of sight and on standby just in case their presence would suddenly be required, the Jawa Repair Rover provided to them by the Confederacy of Independent Systems was so well-equipped that it hadn't taken very long for the crew to reach a consensus after due deliberation. There were six of them and, while he hadn't met any of them before, Honest Moe Uilor could get along with them well enough thus far; along with Nuk Hanan and Snata Dus, Moe was assigned to the Repair Rover as a Droid Repair Specialist, Krat Joetas was their Crane Operator, Nonk Sqoebwe served as Navigator, and Rhels Aax -a Gran- was their designated Driver because he was the only one who could look over the steering wheel. It was beyond Moe why the Confederacy had been opposed to the tried-and-true Jawa method of finer Crawler piloting, where one Jawa operated the steering wheel while another worked the acceleration, but he accepted that it was likely a cultural thing. Thus far, some of the tall sentients of the Galaxy had shown a surprising difficulty in terms of cooperation.
Regardless, the six of them reached a consensus that the Repair Rover was too well-equipped to not use it. Surely, the Great Tinkerer would have frowned on such a thing. As such, under some minor initial protest of the Gran Rhels, they had driven the vehicle to the site of the celebration where the Jawas were now introducing Ryloth to the wonderful world of used droid ownership.
Honest Moe was in the middle of taking a break, having just successfully sold a used repulsorlift stabilizer to an unfortunate Twi'lek who claimed his airspeeder's repulsorlift stabilizer had been stolen that very afternoon. It had made Moe feel really good that he managed to help out that Twi'lek in such a way, even though that theft was pretty much the man's own fault in the first place; when Moe searched for things to sell or trade at the celebration along with Trustworthy Nuk and Reliable Snata earlier that afternoon, they came across an airspeeder parked just outside a residential building nearby. The tall sentients of the Galaxy somehow had a tendency to leave their technology out in the open, exposed to the elements to deteriorate, and the three Jawas could simply salvage a perfectly working repulsorlift stabilizer from the airspeeder just like that. Instead of leaving it to deteriorate, they now made someone really happy with it!
Still with a smile on his face, Moe leaned back in the comfortable driver's seat while watching the datapad in his lap. It showed him a live broadcast of the celebration via something called pay-per-view and, with his trusted translation droid Dooka sitting on the navigator's chair to provide an instant translation, it allowed the Jawa to see what was going on.
At least, until the screen suddenly cut out and a woman appeared on his screen. "Free people of Ryloth, and Confedera-..."She never made it past that point, as Moe switched off the datapad and placed it back on the dashboard where he'd initially found it. The fascination those tall sentients of the Galaxy seemed to have with these programs called "advertisements" never ceased to amaze him and, as far as advertisements went, the one he'd just been presented with was a particularly bad one; the woman's purring voice clearly indicated she wanted to sell something like fortune telling or a similar scam which the Great Tinkerer and the Jawa Industrial Magi would frown upon. With a soft sigh, Moe turned his attention to the festivities outside and that was when he saw it.
A fellow small sentient, in the form of Duckie Talon
.
Eager to talk to a fellow small sentient to exchange experiences regarding the tall sentients and their often strange customs, Moe quickly hopped out of the driver's seat and scurried into the Rover's repair bay with Dooka, the MSE-6 series repair droid, following right behind him. By the time the Jawa exited the open repair bay and walked out into the street, he couldn't see the smell sentient anymore within the crowd of much taller Twi’leks and other assorted tall sentients. In fact, if it hadn’t been for two women who drew Moe’s attention with their long hair, which was as bright and pretty as valuable scrap shining in the sun, the Jawa would never have found the small yellow creature whom had bolted towards one of the women. With a happy smile which went hidden beneath his hood, just like the entirety of Moe’s face, the Honest Jawa began to make his way through the crowd.
By the time he reached the women and the small yellow sentient, one of the women had already picked up Moe’s potential companion and placed him on her shoulder. Raising his hand in a cordial wave, the Jawa spoke up. “Ayy! M’um M’aloo eyeta!” Knowing that his faithful translation droid was never far behind, Moe didn’t wait for the translation and just continued; once Dooka found the correct language to translate to he’d pick up the slack really quick. “Etee uwanna waa!” As he spoke, Moe reached into the pocket of his robe for the remains of his baba sooga; a couple of green peas he’d saved for later. Given how small the yellow sentient was, it could be a worthwhile trade. After several seconds passed however, the mouse droid next to Moe beeped in confusion, indicating in droidspeak that there was no known language on file to translate to. Taken just slightly aback, Moe nevertheless stepped onto his mouse droid; which then raised itself so the Jawa would be upon even level with the small duckling. Holding out his hand to give Duckie the peas, Moe spoke the few words he actually knew in Basic, but be it with a thick accent. “Not sale, free. For you.”
It was really nice to see how the small duckling gobbled up those peas and Moe thought of what else to say, either to Duckie Talon
or to Srina Talon
, but a sudden cry rang out over the crowd. “Utinni!” Just as the small yellow creature ate the last pea, Moe turned around to see Reliable Krat standing on top of the Repair Rover’s crane; waving at him. Quickly turning around at the yellow creature and the people standing around him, Moe spoke up with a friendly “Ubanya!” before hopping off of the Mouse Droid and scurrying back towards the Repair Rover. The translation droid quickly translated it as “Honest Moe Uilor wishes you a wonderful day!” before it too turned around and began to race back to the Rover.
When Moe arrived at the Repair Rover, the crew already prepared it for departure. Or rather, they had thrown everything that belonged to them back into the Rover’s open repair bay, and in their hurry even managed to take stuff that didn’t belong to them. Then again, the Twi’lek might not even miss the street sign or that fire hydrant so there wasn’t any harm done. It made for quality scrap. Honest Moe and Dooka had just barely made it aboard the Rover when it accelerated with screeching tires, and Moe quickly made his way towards the cockpit of the vehicle to see what was going on.
To say the cockpit of the Repair Rover was chaotic could be called something of an understatement. As the Gran Rhels was speeding over a near-empty road which the local law enforcement had reserved for emergency vehicles only, slamming his fist onto the horn as he raced, both Reliable Krat and Trustworthy Nonk were sitting in the navigator’s chair; shouting conflicting directions in Jawaese which their translation droids hastily translated into the Gran native tongue. At the same time Trustworthy Nuk and Reliable Snata were trying to assemble their repair kits right in the middle of the cockpit, shouting at each other in Jawaese as they quarelled. As Reliable Snata took a multi-functional spanner and put it in his repair kit, Trustworthy Nuk had an opinion about it and spoke up with “Mombay m’bwa!” Reliable Snata, disagreeing, shouted right back with “Togo togu!”; which prompted Trustworthy Nuk to stomp his foot onto the floor of the cockpit with an angry “Tandi kwa!” before snatching it out of Reliable Snata’s repair kit and throwing it into his own. At the same time, the translation droids of Reliable Krat and Trustworthy Nonk had given up on their attempts to keep up with the confliction directions of their respective masters; whom also descended into bickering as they tried to overshout each other. When Rhels, who had to swirl hard in order to evade a panicked Twi’lek crossing the road, slammed his fist onto the horn once more and it subsequently promptly decided to jam, further adding to the chaos, the Gran had enough; letting out a frustrated scream in his native Gran language.
And that was how the Jawa Repair Rover pulled up at the smoking remains of a Confederate building, still honking it’s jammed horn. Honest Moe was the first to get out, holding his repair kit with one hand while tightly pressing his helmet onto his head with the other as he scurried to OOM-001-JELLYBEAN
. “M’um M’aloo!” As Moe spoke up to the droid his translation Mouse Droid, safely stored in a pouch on Moe’s bandolier, translated his words into Galactic Basic. “Honest Moe Uilor greets you, and wishes to know if his services can be of assistance!”
“Ayy! M’um M’aloo eyeta!” -> "Ayy, good day friend!"
“Etee uwanna waa!” -> "I want to trade."
“Mombay m’bwa!” -> "That is mine!"
“Togo togu!” -> "Hands off!"
“Tandi kwa!” -> "Give it back!"
// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // WORTHY OPPONENT
// OBJECTIVE // BATTLE ON RYLOTH // DUEL
// FOCUS // Beric Layne
// The Monster
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets
// THEME // MADE FOR THIS // CITY WOLF
Apparently the message had not been needed -- not too far away an armored and regal man ignited a blade of blue. Theo's gaze snapped up as the man made his entrance, and he studied him for a long few seconds. All around them the battle had begun to rage; the Dauntless and Twi'lek forces held back what meager forces the Agents of Chaos had arrayed against them outside Nabat. With his opponent brought to him, Theo had little use for the commander anymore; he let Vao down and patted his head, as if comforting a scared child.
The Sun Guard hopped easily out of the trench and took the first step towards the Knight who had come to face him. As soon as he did the commander's commlink lit up again, conveying a challenge from a man who was of the Dire Wolves. He did not know of that unit, but he was sure that those who fought under the banner of such a fearsome-sounding beast would be quite impressive. Theo glanced at the Twi'lek once more. "Tell this 'Sergei' to come, if he seeks to test his mettle against a Sun Guard." How humble of him. The Sun Guard were known for their prowess in combat; surely other mercenaries would jump at the chance to challenge one. Just like Theo -- when he found an opponent who was strong and skilled, he sought to fight them.
And so, it begged the question: was the man before him strong and skilled? Was he worthy?
Theo turned back to stare at the lightsaber-wielder. His posture was that of nobility, his grip of a veteran warrior, and his gaze betrayed a strong heart. This was a knight -- a man determined to protect, to serve, to fight for others. In truth, the man was a fool. To fight for anything other than oneself was stuff for folk tales and myths. Still, it would not detract from a warrior's skill in battle...
But he needed to see for himself. And of course there was no better way to see than to test the knight himself.
Théodoro moved forward and raised his Force pike, keeping it leveled at his opponent's torso. He kept his guard up at first, before darting in, thrusting the pike at the knight's center. Even a touch would likely be enough to pierce through the man -- the weapon was equal in if not more powerful than a lightsaber. The Sun Guard followed up by retreating momentarily, then slashing towards the warrior's neck, horizontally from Theo's right. Just a test, to begin with.
Location: Capital Bio Dome
Objective: PROTECT THE CIVILIANS!
Allies: Luna TerrikRyk Gaelir , CIS and Affiliates
Enemies: Oceiros Sunstrider
, AoC and Affiliates
Gear:
Confederate Battle Armor (Overlay/Underlay), M-47C, 600 AP and AS rounds, 3 frag grenades, 3 Ion grenades, 3 Concussion grenades, 3 Flashbangs, L-7 service pistol, 60 rounds for L-7, and 3 breaching charges
Draconis was directing more civilian traffic when he heard the explosion. Without hesitation he drew his M-47C and immediately ran to the location where the explosion had happened, and almost vomited in his suit when he arrived. The carnage was absolutely obscene. Body parts, entrails, sprayed bodily fluids and everything else painted the street around the epicenter of the blast. And judging by the amount of carnage, there had been a small crowd here. He found the charred remains of a mother cradling her child at the edge of the blast zone, the upper torso of one his men plastered into a wall. Rock and rubble thrown about as shrapnel as the blast itself made whatever got in the way a deadly weapon. But something confused Draconis about the size of the blast, this wasn't a hand grenade, or a shot explosive. No this was much larger. Someone had used thermal imploders rigged to what most military members called an S-Vest. These misguided people thought that rigging up innocent bystanders as weapons was a good idea.
They were using suicide bombers.
Violating the very most basic of protections of non-combatants. Draconis let out a roar of rage as he viewed the carnage. Those karking savages would pay for using civilians as a punchline for their agenda. And then he heard it. A slow rumble, but growing louder as something was crawling through the ground, clawing its way up. Draconis immediately called into comms before the thing managed to get its head clear, as he'd heard the stories.
"TO ALL UNITS THE ENEMY HAS BREACHED LYLEKS INTO THE CITY! GET THE CIVILIANS AWAY FROM MY POSITION NOW!"
He turned to face the first that showed its face now, fully out of the rubble and staring down the lone Confederate soldier. And then the next came, and the next, until multiple were standing before him. Draconis stood his ground, refusing to back down from these would be invaders, when his attention was drawn up the street from his position. A twi'lek, not even close enough to have been noticed to have been in the immediate vicinity, had been impaled by some of the shrapnel from the blast, and was bleeding out very quickly on the street behind Draconis. She'd been impaled by the twisted remains of one of his men's rifles, turned into shrapnel by the blast. Draconis had a decision to make. He could run after her, and try to save her, but then the Lyleks would kill them both. And if he fought, there'd be a chance that he wouldn't get to her in time. His roar of a challenge was projected through his speakers at the would be attackers, murderers...
KILLERS
"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT?!?! TO KILL YOUR OWN IN SAVAGE MISGUIDED WAYS BECAUSE YOU HATE US SO?! TO BRING DEATH AND DESTRUCTION TO ALL, INCLUDING YOUR OWN?! IS THIS-"
A single cry of a twi'lek child rang out over Draconis's rant. He stopped, the dying twi'lek woman was being held by a child he'd missed before. She was shaking her mother, begging her to wake up.
No.... No no no no nononono.
NO
Draconis looked back at the Lyleks with their riders. They'd kill her for sure. They didn't care about collateral damage. What was one more life on the pile of dead bodies they were building as a monument to their pride? Draconis knew what he had to do, and it hurt that he knew he couldn't save them both.
He turned and bolted, running up the street, straight for the woman, his power armor giving him the ability to run at full speed like he was wearing nothing. As he ran, he did a small stutter step, reached down, and scooped up the child into his arms. And then he kept running, screaming twilek girl in arms as he could almost hear the female breath her last breath as a sigh of relief. Her child would be safe, for now. Draconis was panting as he ran, calling out into his comms.
"To any available units, this is Viceroy Draconis! I am in need of aid! I'm under pursuit of the enemy and I'm protecting a child!"
Draconis ran like his life depended on it, broadcasting his position as did so, trying to keep the babe safe in his arms. Upon closer inspection it was cute baby girl, and Draconis couldn't help but adore her face. He used that adoration to harden his resolve, he had to save her. He couldn't let those monsters get their filthy claws on her. Not a chance. His panting breath would be the only thing he heard as he ran. He really hoped someone heard him.
If there was ever the greatest example of Confederate prosperity, it was Ryloth. Less than a decade ago, this planet was nothing more than a stinking hole filled to the bring with slavers and warlord tyrants who under their rule, murdered millions. Billions lived under the yoke of their oppressors, languishing away in tunnels under the ground, unable to even fight over the native predators that stalked the night.
The Confederacy came. Bringing with them hope and stability, they swept away the despoilers that plagued this world. Rightfully, they showed no mercy to those that did not deserve it. With their chains and collars broken, the Twi’lek people were ever thankful. Side by side with the Confederacy, they elevated their world to impossible heights. No longer did they need to fear the night. No longer did they need to sell themselves to feed their starving children. No longer could they be held down by false rulers.
A shining beacon that stood out against the Galaxy as an example of how even the most seemingly hopeless situations can be turned around. A true testament to the determination of Ryloth’s people.
Colonel Anakwar Farlorn found himself swelling with pride as he marched in perfect step down the parade grounds, his sword unsheathed in his hand for all to see. He was in the perfectly tuned out black dress ceremonial uniform of his rank with yellow buttons. Golden epaulets were strapped to his shoulders and he displayed his half dozen medals won from numerous campaigns.
Behind him moving with him were two companies of Rangers walking in neatly regimented parade formation. At the front of each company was their commanding officer alongside their second officer. Within their ranks were a dozen or so standard carriers. In the hand of each carrier, standing tall on a gilded golden pole proudly flew the great flag of the Ryloth people.
Not the entire Regiment could be given the honor of marching today at the parade. So Farlorn had selected his best units to show as a representative of the entire Regiment as a whole. Anarch Company of the First Battalion had been chosen for this great day.
They were the best so they had to look the best.
All in perfect uniforms as they advanced down the grounds. Gone was the mud. Gone was the blood of both comrades and foes. Gone was the general despair that seemed to hang around whatever theater of war they found themselves in. They were all dressed in khaki coats, brown corduroy breeches and webbings, and puttees around their legs and forearms. They weren’t wearing their usual combat steel bowl helmets but rather a mixture of brown berets and slouch hats. At their sides were their standard-issue Vyper Assault Rifles, so well maintained they seemed to be fresh off the production line.
The mood in his men could only be described as terrific and Farlorn could not ask for more. On every single face of his men were smiles and lively eyes. The war against the feral Clan Tantt had been brutal and costly for the Rangers. In less than a week, nearly two hundred Rangers had been slain at the hands of the savage foe. But in the end, they had won through sheer determination and freed thousands upon thousands of slaves.
The people of Ryloth were nothing like the cold hardened people of Thracior. They were warm and kind, open to talk with his men. The week they had spent in training exercises with the rest of Dauntless had been a light-hearted relief for his men. To cap the brilliant week off was this magnificent parade.
All around them crowds of Twi’lek’s and others were cheering on, looking on in wonder at the displays of Confederate might, swelling with patriotism, and waving thousands of mini-flags.
All around them were the cheers of tens of thousands, so loud they could feel it shaking their very diaphragms. Crescendoing to an unimaginable level that it simply became a solid wall of… just noise.
All of this, in a single moment, was silenced by the first hi-jacked broadcast. The voice that came through was sinister, oozing malice and evil. It slipped from the cracked bloody lips of a traitor. One who was once trusted and loved by all around them. Given the greatest honor, any citizen of the Confederacy could ever be given: the honor of serving their duty. Even despite all this, they had turned from the shining light of wise Vicelord Metus, may he reign ever long, seeking selfish personal power and seeking to bathe in the blood of a million innocents.
It was the cursed Madalena Antares
, thrice-damned high traitor.
She had accepted the insidious corrupting ideology that was Chaos. May she burn in the fires of eternity.
Her foul voice promised many things. It promised death to all that resisted. It promised that it would slaughter the people of Ryloth and burn their children. It promised to tear down decades of progress towards a brighter future. It promised that it would bring Ryloth to chaos and destruction. Let the Galaxy burn.
Woe betide any who dared to stand up to them.
If that was the case, then woe betide Farlorn and his men.
The voice ceased it’s foul broadcast, at last.
All around, Twi’lek civilians were looking around in confusion, murmuring, and chattering. Farlorn could feel it. Panic was beginning to spread like wild-fire through the crowd. The shoving began as people fought people to escape the crowd. Many cried out as they were unwillingly swept by the crowd like they had been caught by the rapids of a raging river.
The Colonel knew that there had been whispers of a possible attack incoming. Because of his rank, he had been privy to the true nature of the training exercise, a cover-story for a heavy-deployment of forces for such a possible situation.
The general civilian population knew not of the impending threat. It would have been unwise if they had been informed so soon to Founder’s Day. To cancel such an event because of a simple whisper would have been a great embarrassment to everyone involved. The Confederacy would not allow itself to be forced to kneel by terrorists. Anyway, would not the forces already on world have been protection enough?
But right now the last thing he needed was a massive riot.
“Company halt!” Farlorn cried out. At once the hundred and a half Rangers behind him stopped their practiced march.
The screens flickered on. A blue image of a great bird rising from the pits of flame appeared and then flickered out. A Twi’lek face came on next but everything about it was wrong. It was brutalized to an unimaginable extent. It could barely be considered a face, so swollen with deep wounds and dark purple bruises. He fought to breathe between his sobs. Next to it was another of its kind with a yellowed nearly jaundiced skin complexion. On its lips was the cruelest smile that Farlorn had ever seen and he had spent nearly his entire life on the frontline, fighting against cruel men.
Insane babble came from the cruel man as he spoke the language of madness. He was certainly speaking basic but nothing he said made any logical sense. He ranted on about infidels, spoke blatant shams, and promised death upon everyone who dared resist him. Then to set an example, he beheaded the poor, poor man. His head slowly slid off his neck and fell off-screen.
The screens went blank again.
For the first minute there was just stunned silence from everyone.
An extraordinary low moaning, a swelling, surging susurration filled the parade grounds. Farlorn suddenly realized that was the sound tens of thousands made when they were panicking and in fear for their lives. Screams and shouts began to cut through the air like glass through flesh. Soft sobs underlaid it all.
“Holy kriffing shit,” One of the banner carriers at Farlorn’s side swore. “They’re animals! They’re kriffing animals, those bastards!”
“Trooper control yourself,” Farlorn said. “But, yes, it does appear our foe is nothing more than a feral savage beast.”
The crowd began to move as one, a fluid thing, like a river. There was no decision-making process, no ringleader. Mass instinct simply compelled them all. Dozens began swarming over the sawhorse and onto the parade grounds. They could have a full-on stampede at this rate.
“Captain Killearn!” Farlorn asked for the Captain of Anarch Company who was standing at the front of the rest and directed his sword at the crowds, “Take your company and contain the spread of the crowd at once. Once that has been done, have the civilians move to their pre-designated shelters. I do fear that conflict shall soon fall upon this world. Distribute your platoons as you see fit. Any and all means are authorized.”
“As you command, sir,” Captain Killearn replied. He had unslung his carbine and rammed in a magazine from his chest pouch. He turned around, beginning to organize his men into a solid line to move against the crowd. He had them slowly move with their blasters to form a barrier to force those that had spilled over the dividers onto the parade grounds back. Any troublemakers or those too taken with fear and panic were detained and brought behind the line of men. All the while, he had his comms-officer bellowed for the Twi’lek’s to proceed calmly but with haste to their shelters at once. He listed several possible penalties for those that resisted such an order.
“Sir, a message from the High Marshall, priority urgent,” Trooper Bellary, Farlorn’s comms-officer and one of his most trusted aides, came to his side. Farlorn took the comms-phone out of his hands and put it to his ear.
“I’m sure you all heard what I did and have many questions.” Came High Marshall Luna Terrik
voice. Farlorn stiffened habitually. “Unfortunately, now is not the time to answer them. All you do need to know, is that you are to prepare yourselves for what is to come. Squad leaders get your men organized and headed back toward the base camp, just outside the city. From there we will organize our response. Vehicle transportation is preferred. Get moving.”
“Syna,” Farlorn stopped a lieutenant running forward with his platoon to join the ranks. “I need you and your men with me at once.”
Lieutenant Syna called for his platoon with him. Following the Colonel, they disengaged from the crowds and began to jog at a light pace across the parade grounds. They instinctively formed a protective perimeter around the Colonel. Farlorn, despite disliking this type of hand-holding, didn’t argue. It was imperative that the head of the Rangers remain untouched this early on in a potential battle. There was also a high chance that he may be directly targeted by the vanguard forces of the foe deployed before the initial ground invasion. That was what he would do.
They made a turn at a side-street of the parade avenue. The vanguard of the platoon yelled for the crowds before them to make way as they strode through them. A few who were deaf or too stupid were shoved aside after a warning or two. No time for apologies though he was in no way owing that to them. Matters at the moment were far too urgent to waste his time on such small things.
“Where are we headed, sir?” Syna asked at the Colonel’s side.
“The garages. From there we shall claim transports. The Grand Marshall has ordered that all forces return to base for further orders.” He turned and waved Bellary over. “Transmit orders to Fennstrum that he is to mobilize the Rangers to standing order as fast as he can. I shall have returned in about half an hour.”
There was a loud flapping sound to his left. Farlorn only now noticed that one of the men in the platoon was still carrying the banner of Ryloth, flying proudly behind as they ran.
“Mehil,” Farlon asked with bemusement in his voice, “What are you doing?”
“Can’t let it fall,” Trooper Mehil said between breaths, “I didn’t have time to put it back in the stand. I can’t let it fall and touch the ground. It’s just not proper.”
“That’s right, trooper. Don’t let it touch the ground. Maintain the honor of Ryloth at all times. To all of you, never let this great flag fall! Never, I say! Should Mehil here fall, then one should be ready to take his place. Even if it costs your life to keep this aloft then so be it. Do you understand?”
“Ooh-rah!” His men cried out.
As they pushed on, the voice of the high traitor, clearly not done, spoke once more. Farlorn this time was insulted. Such blatant lies. Did she really believe that they would believe such a thinly-veiled offer? What were they thinking? Did they really think that the people would so readily accept it? Did she think she could hide the fact that her so-called “refugee camps'' were in reality death camps where she could allow herself to plunge herself into the deepest depths of her disgusting debauchery? Where she could have the young all to herself to play with? It made Farlorn slightly sick to even think of the last question but he had little doubt she would sink to that level.
The garages were close now. Klaxons began to wail. They all had now broken into a full sprint. Farlorn had drawn his BAW-55 heavy blaster pistol and gripped it with both hands as he now led the way.
They reached the garages. The single man on duty at first tried to stop them but then he saw the rank pins on Farlorn’s chest and forty elite rangers behind him. He didn’t try to stop them again and simply just watched as they raced past.
They turned a corner to come to the main vehicular depot.
He saw Lieutenant Gaelir and a few dozen of his men mounting up onto the heavy-duty transport trucks. He was about to yell out, asking if there were enough for all of them.
His words were forever lost on his lips. A massive explosion ripped through the garage. The very ground shattered and shook under its might. Windows blew into hundreds of twinkling shards from the pressure of the blast. Farlorn felt thrown back by the massive shockwave like he had been slapped by a massive hand. He impacted Syna who was right behind him. Both of them went down into a heap.
His head slightly dizzy from the overpressure, he quickly regained his feet and looked out at the carnage. Platoon medic Jantine tried to attend to him but Farlorn waved him away. An immense mushroom cloud of fire was rushing up out of the ruins. Black acrid smoke obscured the entire scene. Like rain, rubble and grit were falling out of the sky, some large pieces landing hundreds of meters away.
He heard a loud groan from behind.
The unfortunate Lieutenant had managed to soften much of his commander’s fall but as he rose he noticed his wrist was hanging loosely, broken. Already Jantine was on it, fixing wooden braces around the wound and wrapping it with surgical tape. He was working at an amazing almost robotic pace.
“It’s nothing,” Syna assured. “I’ll survive.”
Farlorn didn’t bother to reply. He strode into the smoke, his throat tightening at the foul acidic taste in the air. Without hesitation, the rest of the platoon followed him into the unknown. He could hear the metallic sounds of steel feet on the ground. He knew that sound at once, droids. They sure reacted fast, Farlorn had to give them that. But right now he wasn't concerned about that.
“Lieutenant Gaelir! Gaelir!” Farlorn shouted despite how much it hurt to breathe. The smoke was so thick that he could barely see ten paces forward ahead of him. The sound of crumbling ferrocrete was everywhere. “Do you have wounded? I repeat, do you have any wounded? I have medics!”
TL;DR
Farlorn and Anarch Company attempt to control the panicking crowds after Oceiros Sunstrider
's public execution. When the message from the High Marshall comes to return to base at once, he takes 1st Platoon to the CDF vehicle garage. When they arrive, a massive blast rips through the garage grounds. Farlorn enters the ruins just as Srina Talon
's droids do, offering medical help to any wounded in the area.
Doubt besieged Allya after Kaine’s message. Oh, she knew what it meant. Her heart fluttered and anxiety set in. Her clan, her little ade, were still in the dome. It felt overwhelming. For so long she had next to nothing. All she had to focus on was what was in front of her and beating anything that came at her. However, there were so many places where she was vulnerable now. And yet, it was in these darkest moments of doubt, rage, and insecurity that light had a way of shining through the most, that the idea of aliit rescued her.
A voice, one that had been at her side for so long now rang through her comm unit. “We are all clear of the zone. Taking the ade to a safe place. I got this, now….do what you do best. Let ‘em taste dar’yaim.” Crash….a clone, and someone who she trusted with the lives of herself and all she held dear. He had fought in so many wars at her side. First as a soldier, then as vod. Her little ones were safe. He had said so, and she had never had a reason to doubt his word. Eyes flicked open as she watched the horses gather before her.
The great weight lifted from her heart, and her blood began to pump in excitement as she was them all. Majestic was one word for it. There they stood in the Bright Lands, desert all around them, the wind fierce, the ground flat but with lots of rocks all around them. Two armies met, nearly equal in size. She heard Shuklaar ask for tasking. The teen responded. “Davaab-6R. There is a large gathering army of enemy mercenaries approaching. Sending coordinates. Currently engaging.”
She hopped off the AAT and moved to the front of the droid and organic army. She could feel the presence, and see the armor of someone she recognized. Strider Garon. Once upon a time, she had listened to the stories of the Hound of Keldabe in awe and wonder. She had pretended to be him, in the time back with her mother. Before her father had twisted her, and shaped her into a weapon. When you met with one of your legends on the battlefield, a bit of basic respect was due.
Allya said nothing, but there in front of the metal horde, her black cloak flapped in the wind. She placed her right hand over her heart, and gave a respectful bow. She didn’t know if he would notice or not, but...it was the least she could do. However...this was war. IONA’s voice rang in her ears, as the two droid arms unfolded from her back, and grabbed their ion charged particle blasters. “Shall we welcome him PROPERLY this time?” The wings of her Micro-fighter extended on her back, and the e-web rifles moved to a perpendicular position. The turrets moved a bit, as they adjusted themselves. One of her armored hands grabbed one of the Starbird blasters, while the other reached down for her lightsaber instinctively.
Her hand stopped, and she clenched her fist. No, not yet. There was something she had to do first. When two warriors met, there was only one way to TRULY greet them. B1’s moved behind her, and kneeled down, blasters raised. It was clear they were aiming for the legs of the horses, as well as bracing themselves for a cavalry charge. They were heavy hunks of metal, they wouldn’t break easily.
The AATs and other heavy units moved into position, ready to lay down cover fire, and explode the entire distance between the two armies. So on, and so forth, the droids positioned themselves. The organics sought cover behind larger rocks. However...no one fired. Not a single blaster bolt rang out. There was something that came first. IONA knew her so well. Allya and her AI vod had become so close, so used to the way the other thought. Her HUD lit up with the data. Distance, wind, temperature….it showed her the inertial dampener had been brought up to full, that her gravity control mechanisms were in place, repulsorlifts and tractor beams were ready to compensate, and that her vambrace repulsor was charged to full. Particle Shields and Ray shields were calibrated for the movements needed, and to deal with as much of the pressure as they could.
Without any warning, she shot off like a rocket. The acceleration was intense. The dust kicked up all around her, obscuring the girl as she moved like a bullet. Even with all of her gear working at maximum, she FELT it. The Microfighter jetpack took the girl up to speeds of nearly 1000 kilometers per hour. Her actions were fast, fluid, like she had trained her entire life for this moment. She moved straight at Strider, there at the front of his men, sitting prideful atop his horse. Her fist, moving at the same speed, went at Strider’s helmeted head. It was coated in the powerful particle shields that should impact Strider long before the arm ever would. As she approached, and in that critical moment, IONA activated the repulsor on her vambrace as well, to help push Strider as well, in an attempt to lessen the impact on Allya’s own body. If this maneuver did what Allya wanted, it would appear like in a blink, her fist impacted Strider’s helmeted head, and would hopefully send him flying into the horse and rider next to him. It was a big if. At these speeds, anything could happen!
And so it began. The low coals flaring with every malicious breath, every uttered word igniting the embers and stoking them to life. Tension grew as tempers heated. And loose tongues began to spit venom, the poison deadly to the idea of peaceful negotiations. There was too much anger and hate, eventually one of his guests would reach a point where instinct, rage, or hurt would drive an individual from verbal assault unto physical confrontation. And that would spark the wildfire he had been attempting to keep at bay by any means necessary.
His eyes tracked from Visanj who offered her weapon, against instinct, in order to comply. A slight nod was offered to the blonde. Enlil stood steadfast, determined to keep his word in the face of growing animosity. An interesting fellow that he would have to get to know better, should they all survive the current ordeal.
Exarch Locke gave voice to the silent rumination of thoughts. At the fore was Gabriel and his statements of the Agents of Chaos. And then followed words on the Siskeen System and his wish of reconciliation or, at the least, a parting of friends. Neither option was unworthy of consideration. Yet before Derek responded the other guests began speaking, and so he settled back into his chair with elbows on the arms of his chair and fingers steepled before him as he gave attention to each individual and their words.
The Raven voiced similar sentiments as the Exarch, both in attention pointed squarely upon the Agents of Chaos and then on seeking a middle, common ground with the United Siskeen Coalition. Yet it was Daegon that struck at the heart of the matter. Complicit. Sins of a group weigh on every individual. However Alwine drove several opinionated points home while also tolling the bell for the release of the Siskeen System. His eyes caught a slight movement from Annasari but not seeing exactly why she had shifted. But her eyes revealed the hint of betrayal and anger she surely must have felt at his freely given admission.
“I am reminded of an old parable, the three blind men and the hutt. The first man felt only a bulbous eye and swore the thing was an egg. The second tried to encompass his arms around the hutt’s girth and decreed it as a type of round, thick skinned creature most likely harvested for mass food export. The third held the tail and screamed, “serpent, serpent”. Each possessed their very different opinions and fought over what they envisioned. Yet they only interpreted from their experience and point of view. Only the hutt knew what it was.”
“The Agents of Chaos see a system wanting freedom and willing to offer assistance to fulfill that goal. The Confederacy wishes to sweep the Agents away and make platitudes to convince this system to stay. You can look at what is occurring on Ryloth right now and see the results of your attempts to a peaceful end. The Confederacy sees me as a traitor because I have Agents of Chaos as guests. The Agents of Chaos see me as a betrayer for warning the Confederacy. I warned Scherezade of the double meaning of words.”
He let out an audible sigh.
“Daegon, my friend. You say the word complicit knowing it would strike a chord within my soul. Yet leadership of both groups represented here have blood on their hands and red in their respective ledgers. Innocence is a fleeting mistress that has long since departed. Even I feel the weight of past transgressions. Our Vicelord has been mandalorian and sith in his past. One of our Exarchs hail from the old Imperial Empire that once threatened us from the east. Scherezade has been baptized in blood while others of the Agents share in the grouping of those with blood on their hands. Is it complicit to follow such leaders instead of crying out for justice upon them for past sins? I am not a god, saint, patron, or any other role that would place me in such a lofty position to cast judgement and punishment. So are we complicit in past crimes committed by our fellow confederates? Too often the real galaxy exists in shades of grey rather than black and white.”
“Many of you here consider politics to be a weak aspect of government. Politics is so very different than standing on the open battlefield and fighting your enemies through cleverness and taking action at the correct moment. So, too, is politics.Common sense lent itself to the conclusion that this system would share Ryloth’s fate in the near future as Siskeen paved the way to Ryloth. And the galaxy knows that the Confederacy crushes those who strike at her, and especially inside CIS borders. So my options were limited.”
“This meeting with the Confederacy while having the Agents of Chaos bear mute testimony, offers me the chance to keep battle and warfare outside of my system. I have conflicting opinions of the Agents, but I knew that the offer of a diplomatic solution would tempt them into being agreeable. After all this could affect how the Agents are viewed moving forward. As for the Confederacy … This catalyst on Ryloth offered me an opportunity to find neutral ground inorder to reach a consensus.”
He leaned forward with a furrowed brow.
“Already the seeds of growth have been planted. Exarch Locke, you offer the opportunity we seek. And I will take you up on the offer. As well as the wishes to remain on friendly terms. A good compromise leaves all content but unhappy. The CIS gain an ally at their border. The AoC can claim their involvement in a peaceful liberation in their eyes. And the United Siskeen Coalition can take our first steps on our own. And best of all, no bloodshed will have occured in my system. And we will have shown the galaxy that there is more than one way to settle disagreements or arguments. As for who will protect us? We will stand or fall on our own feet.”
No sooner had Rann taken his attention away from his Commlink had an explosion rocked the city. Rann heard the sound as the kinetic energy from the exlposion hit him and threw him backward onto the ground. Rann hit the ground hard, rolling with the explosion several times until he came to rest face down. Groaning, Rann rose to his hands and knees and looked around, blinking several times to try to help him get over the shock of the explosion. He saw other Twi'leks and humans also struggling to get to their feet as rubble was raining down around them. Rann rose to his feet and checked his commlink, trying to get in contact with anyone.
"Rann Thress, Anyone in the parade grounds or around. Did anybody else see that? Or.. Or feel that? We have an explosion on the ground! I'm heading to the blast site."
Rann Rose to his feet, stumbling over and groaning slightly as he did to check on some civilians. He helped some to their feet, checking on them to make sure they weren't too injured and then he looked towards the blast site. He surveyed the situation, looking at the amount of people on the ground not moving, the carnage that littered the field growing denser as he moved closer to ground zero. As he moved closer, through the smoke and debris Rann could vaguely make out the form of some....creature he had never seen. He could also make out the forms of Twi'leks on top of the creatures.
Rann sighed and removed his lightsaber from his waistband.
"Beastriders. Oh good. Terrorist-Beastriders. Feels like home."
Pssshhheeeewww
The crimson blade ignited from his lightsaber hilt pointing down at the ground. Rann looked around again, thinking about the amount of innocents that might be within his lightsaber's immediate range.
He looked back towards the hole, observing that most of the civilians have either evacuated, are evacuating, dead or dying in his immediate vicinity. He shook his head and gripped his saber tighter, moving it infront of him and gripping it with his free hand. He raised the blade to his head, tilting the blade away from him towards the hole and started running towards the hole, taking care not to push himself closing the gap.
Rann didn't know if anyone else from the Confederacy was coming, already here, or even knew this was happening. All he knew was that, to him being melodramatic, he was the only thing immediately in the way of these Beastriders and defenseless populace. As he closed the gap between him and the indeterminate amount of Lylek-riding Twi'lek insurgents, He noticed Draconis Sederius Wolf
, and then heard in his commlink.
"To any available units, this is Viceroy Draconis! I am in need of aid! I'm under pursuit of the enemy and I'm protecting a child!"
Rann went pale. This changed the game for him. Now it wasn't just fighting one or two, he had to try and draw them all on him. To give Draconis a chance to get that child away. Rann stepped closer, removing his off hand and letting his main right hand dangle with the saber at his side. With his free hand, Rann waved about wildly,
"Hey, Terrorists! You wanna fight? Fight me! Come on! Come get me!"
Rann stopped and twirled his blade, trying to make a big show and draw attention to himself. Inside he cursed himself for his fool-hearty action. Either they pay attention to him which will not be great for Rann, or they don't pay attention to him and he has to do something drastic. What, he didn't know. This already seemed drastic.
Hoping to only have to deal with the first option, Rann resorted to childish insults.
"You smell like Drexl-waste! And ya look like it too! COME ON, COME. I'm ready!"
Rann stopped twirling his blade and entered the Soresu stance. He had just hoped to draw them into a fight, not to rely on the form. He stared intently at the Beastriders.
"I bet I wouldn't even need a lightsaber for you! Beastriders? HA! I'm from Onderon! You're nothing!"
Ryk had been prepared to hold the tunnel at all costs. As far as he had known, it was the only entrance into the city by with the enemy could bring in the bulk of their forces. Nom Carvor's last words had been to protect his home. To protect his people. If he did anything, it would be keeping the promise that his friend, his brother, had requested at his last dying breath.
He just wasn't prepared for a bunch of dimwitted droids to be his reinforcements.
He watched silently as they ventured into the tunnel, completely unaware of their surroundings, Ryk in particular. He felt almost bad for them; whatever was awaiting them in the dark would make short work of them, and they would be nothing but spare parts soon. Of course, Ryk had always suspected that the Confederacy's droids had been made for that purpose. They made a good target for enemies to shoot at while Marines did the dirty work.
As they marched past, their designations flashed briefly on Ryk's HUD; OOM-001-JELLYBEAN, OOM-003-CUPCAKE, OOM-016-ASTRO. Ryk had no idea who or what was in charge of designating battle droid units, but obviously they were very bored or had some childish sense of humor. At the very least, Ryk reasoned, they weren't coated in an obnoxious color of pink or covered in glitter. All the same, no matter what designation they had, they would be the first indication of what was in that tunnel.
As he watched the droids disappear into the abyss, the clanking sounds of their mechanical footsteps growing softer and softer, his inbuilt comlink beeped, and Ryk had a moment to realize how quiet it was. The explosion had killed off all life around him, and the distant noises of the celebration had faded to nothing as the citizens had been evacuated to the shelters. The comm continued to beep, but Ryk was in a trance-like state. He didn't hear it.
"Lieutenant Gaelir! Gaelir! Do you have wounded? I repeat, do you have any wounded? I have medics!"
Ryk looked up from the dust and rubble, the voice breaking him out of his trance. He had thought he was the only one here, apart from those mindless droids. As the smoke cleared, he saw the frames of what looked to be Dauntless commandos -- looking at their number and patches, he realized they were the famed Forlorn Rangers. He remembered seeing a few of them during the military exercises earlier in the week but it still struck him as strange to see them now.
The Marine blinked, taking time to come to his senses before responding, and even then his speech was slow. Did he has wounded men? No. He didn't. There were a lot of things that Ryk wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words for any of them. At last, he managed to speak. "No wounded," he said, his steady voice a contrast to his scarred soul. "Only dead men and droids."
Suddenly, a voice sprang up inside of Ryk's head. What was he doing? Was he going to let himself be defeated, be compromised, because these terrorists had stooped so low? Would that save the rest of his men? Would that reflect well on his training, the years he had spent preparing to fight? A feeling of resolve swept through the broken Marine, and Ryk hefted his rifle up a little higher. He was about to say something more, to volunteer to help with the Rangers, to see what more he could do.
Then, another explosion went off.
It wasn't like the one in the garage -- deadly, yes, but it had been contained. Most had not even been aware of it. But this explosion. . . Ryk could feel the vibrations, feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. . . really wrong. Ryk's comlink beeped again, more insistent this time, and Ryk managed to tap in. "Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Dixonn," came a familiar voice, the one of Ryk's friend who he'd sent to gather the rest of the platoon what seemed to be ages ago. "There was a bomber at my position, and well. . . you need to get over here. We have multiple wounded, and something that looks like a tunnel." The communication was patchy at best, with Dixonn's voice cutting gin and out several times, but Ryk managed to get the gist.
"Chit," Ryk swore. "A bomber? Dix, how many men do we got injured over there?" Ryk's voice raised, his stress rising. He couldn't lose more men, not after what had happened at the garage.
"We have five casualties, sir, two in critical condition. Forces from the Surric Local Defense Force also have casualties, and an unspecified amount of civilians too. We need you over here right now, sir, there's something --" A large, inhumane screech cut through Dixonn talking. "--No, get them back. Hold the line here!" More of the screeching, and then the comms went silent. Everything went silent, except for those same shrieks echoing throughout the city. Ryk now knew what he needed to do. His men needed him.
Ryk would fulfill his promise to his dying friend. He would protect Carvor's people. He would fight, even if it meant giving up his own life, to preserve the freedom of Ryloth.
The Marine ran through the streets, holding his rifle at a battle-ready position as he did so. He didn't have a map, but it was as if he knew the layout of the bio-drome instinctively. Every turn, every alleyway, only lead him closer to his goal. The oaths he swore as a recruit, as a graduated cadet, pounded in his head as he raced through the bio-dome. He had sworn to protect the Confederacy. To protect the people of Confederacy. No matter the cost. No matter the sacrifice.
Screams of terror, explosions, and full-on battle met Ryk when he finally arrived. The battle had been split into two fronts; his men and Twi'lek soldiers in the Ryloth Defense Force on one side, those of the Surric Defense Force and other scrabbled-together forces on the other. Both were fighting with the same goal, though -- trying to quell the fearsome amount of beast riders that seemed to be pouring out in endless numbers. There were only fifteen Marines left, and Ryk could see other bodies strewn across the ground; some crumpled and broken, others still filled with life and fighting to their last breath, using their sidearms when power cells were running low. Dixonn had taken point, along with three other Marines, firing intensively at one best, giving only a grunt of celebration when it went down.
Ryk ran up to the Sergeant, the latter giving a brief nod. "Heard about the garage, Sir," Dixonn shouted over the roar of battle. The Sergeant paused, taking a moment to put a hand on Ryk's shoulder. "Carvor was one of the best. Let's make those chit-bastards pay for what they did," he said, softer but firm, flashing a brief, fierce smile. Ryk nodded as the men began to pause and look at him, and Dixonn spoke up again. "We're waiting for our orders, Sir."
Ryk swallowed. He swallowed down his fear, his grief, all the pain he had felt in the last hour. Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to fight. Looking up, there was a new flash of steel in his eyes, a sign of resolve not there before.
He didn't have to give the order, but he did it all the same. "Let's get those bastards." The rest of 1st Platoon, Aurek Company, of the 701st roared in their agreement, briefly outmatching the sounds of the Lyleks themselves. And in unison, Ryk and his men opened fire with everything they had.
Gerwald heard the warning loud and clear in the comms before Redd
turned and gave her warning. They had been given eight minutes, and before that eight minutes came to an end not only was there a beheading, a ship was now moving toward the planet and charging its weapon for an orbital bombardment. The wolf could only imagine the target. His heart sank as his mind raced to the worst case. It would be like her to do such a thing. She had always been one to leap to such extremes.
The thoughts sent Gerwald back to the day he had to choose. He knew it would be painful to tell Scherezade he had chosen another. Gerwald knew it would break her to know it was someone she had seen as a sister. That still did not excuse the venom, vitriol, and hatred which came from her.
"I release myself of you, Katrine Van-Derveld
Hawk. I am no longer your Ward. I am no longer your sister. I am no longer any kind of your family. I am no longer part of the Mandragora."
Gerwald could smell the ship, the room, their scents. The day was forever imprinted in his mind.
She had spoken of love, but so easily cast aside the notion of it, and over what, finding out the man she loved had chosen another. There had been so much Gerwald had not understood about what led up to that moment, but the moments that followed, the drunken stupor she allowed herself to maintain, and ultimately the plan to make herself disappear, they were all the machinations of an unstable mind. Whether it was her ordering the bombardment or not, such erratic behavior was to be expected of her.
Clearly nothing had changed.
@Jason Farkas’ answer pulled him out of his thoughts. The boy would stay with him. There was also the matter of Darth Elyria
. Her arrival had been nothing short of spectacular. Never had Gerwald witness someone simply appear as she had. There was a scent, jasmine and rain. Something about her reminded him of the darkness he had once been surrounded by, the day he learned Scherezade had not killed herself. Curious eyes observed her as everything around them was set into chaos. There were bodies to move and lives to protect. Gerwald could not afford to let his curiosity distract him now.
“ Redd
, Astrid Skovgaard , you get to the bunkers now if the rest of us are not there within the next five minutes lock them down.”
His eyes looked to the rest of the room. Another had been among them, silent, observing. Shalita Verd
was another curiosity to Gerwald. The way she remained hidden among the shadows made him wonder if she was one with them or not.
KABOOM!!!
An explosion and smoke.
Comms went wild with orders to check out the source, a unit of B1 droids were sent to investigate.
KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
This time the building shook as the explosion sent shockwaves through the ground which shook the foundation of the building. Gerwald could not believe this was not a coordinated effort. He did not believe in coincidence.
Looking to the woman from the shadows, and the squire he had made his responsibility, he motioned with his head.
“Time to get both of you into a bunker. This place is more than just a target. It’s about to be ground zero.”
He stared at the Golden Lance, watched it amble closer to the planet as one of the voices around him called out the vessel's mounting energy gathering. Another called out that another fleet had come into the area. The Fleet Admiral could not register the information as he continued to stare at the ally the Agent's had brought along. The ally they had ensured knew to avoid harming civilians. Who was now endangering the objective that they had all agreed was paramount to this whole operation.
"Admiral?" Rimes spoke, enough of a cutting tone about her to make him blink and come back to the moment that had developed around him. Cut through the disbelief that this was actually happening. He could understand the small vessel's continued assault on the impending disaster that was to occur. He thought on his options briefly.
"Signal the Wild Stallion and Free Bird to target the Golden Lance. Assign Glitter and Glam as well with long range fire should they actually accost the planet." Dimitri roared, nostrils flared as he took a deep and rage filled breath. "We will not tolerate anyone who harms the civilians. Starfighters are to hold course around our fleet, do not engage anything unless fired upon."
Orders dispatched, voices around him began to throw out call signs as the the pair of Monarch ships moved forward. The CIC roamed the channels, broken orders finally making sense within a few attempts of contact. The Wild Stallion and Free Bird slowly moved closer, targeting the Golden Lance while pinpointing trajectories and weak points to aim at. When the order to fire came down, the pair would be ready.
Two Spectres from the rear of the fleet shifted as well, their fire trajectory now directed towards the Golden Lance in preparation for it's next action as long range turbolaser's were aimed at the possibly former ally. The large swarm of starfighter vessel's ebbed and flowed around the carriers and kept themselves from following to close to the Wild Stallion and Free Bird as they shut off engines after closing to firing distance of the Golden Lance.
"Can we make contact with the Golden Lance?" Dimitri spat, a mix of nerves and rage as he kept his eyes on the vessel. An audible pause in the cacophony of voices occurred as the communications officers meekly spoke.
"No sir. With all the jamming-"
The Fleet Admiral spared little time in flinging a number of curses while pacing once more, a few of the officers around him jumping at the sudden outburst before he addressed the CIC once more. "IF THAT FETHIN CHITTIN IDJIT FIRES ON THE PLANET, LET HIM HAVE IT!"
MAIN FLEET* - (8.1km) SHC Unicorn- Dimitri Lindzinsky (12 active squadrons) Pocket Carriers - 6 (4 active squadrons each) Monarch Class Destroyers - 2 (5 active squadrons each) Wraith Vessels - 1 - Disarmed of Weapons (now empty and slowly putzing out of atmo)
It was exactly as she had expected it to be. Faced with the accusations of systematic oppression, the Confederate colonizers chose not to answer but to ignore it. They could cry about slavery until the galaxy and the Netherworld combined into one, and it would still not wipe away their lies about the entire thing. But that was their choice. Hers, was to rid first this world of them, and then all the other worlds that would follow. They would be right to be afraid - by the Vicelord's own admittance - she'd been one of their best, and she'd only improved since.
The concern about Australis above the world was still a valid one. Madalena was not ignorant of his actions in the past, and while she had no issues with accepting any of his kin into the Agents or giving place for his clan as well as other Mandalorian clans, she had not fully trusted bringing the man specifically to this. If he actually would repeat the vents of Eshan and other places… It would be her own life that would be in danger. But now was not the time to dwell on that. Australis could be an ally or could be a very dangerous annoyance, but her enemies were here, on a planet that did not belong to them.
"I know where the altar is," she said to Judd as they made their way to the ground. It wasn't on any map, but that didn't matter. Madalena had known more than enough people, among them Mandragora, that had known where it is. On the Agents of Chaos side alone there were more than a handful of people who'd actually been there."We're going to land nearby and travel on foot a little bit. The mountain area is too dangerous to try to land a pod right smack in the middle of it."
She wasn't certain it was the best of ideas either. The Mandragora castle was where her heart desired to go, but… Perhaps if they finished their plans for the altar, there would be enough time to go the castle before the Confederacy left the planet alone. Once that happened, the Agents of Chaos would have no reason to do anything more on this planet other than tear down their remaining constructions and provide medical relief before they left.
Looking at Hanna
, Madalena smiled. "If these were better days, we both might have been happy here together," she said quietly to her unicorn lady,"If less corruption reigned among the Confederacy, you would have adored the Mandragora and their religion, as I once loved the Knights Obsidian and all I thought they stood for. Before I understood that nepotism reigned, before I saw how they treated others that didn't happen to fall into anyone's favorite lists, before I realized that those who made it to the top were mostly made of kin and private connections. Some days I still wonder if the only reason they ever promoted me was because I was the paramour of the Knights Obsidian's leader, for I have seen others work no less hard yet never get anywhere while all others had to do was arrive and be elevated."
But no more. The very way things were handled had disgusted her and she had attempted to not see it at all. In many ways, she was a perfect little soldier. But those days had never been destined to last. Truth had been revealed. The Confederacy had caused damage that would never be fixed, not on any personal level, not on any governmental level. And people all across the galaxy were seeing that. It was a cascade that would not stop until their very existence was ended.
Shuffling in her place a little, she moved to Jai'galaar Gred
. The two had never spoken out right about the things that had bothered him, about the very things that were coursing through his emotions right now. They weren't that sort of close, and she rarely overstepped into the personal lives of her people who didn't ask for it first. "Breathe,"she instructed him, attempting to reach forward with the Force to sooth his nerves, to calm him down, "Hold your breath and count to three. Then slowly release it." She would not judge him for this, she would not judge anyone. Jai'galaar was a Mandalorian who had seen first hand what happened when other Mandalorians (cough, Australis, cough) did what they did. The Confederacy had told them the entire Mandalorian Empire supported that. Madalena had since then worked with a few of the clans and knew how untrue that was."We are not here to bombard the planet. We are here to help it. If Australis goes through with this despite our agreements, you can come with me and be the one to slit his throat from ear to ear. This, I vow."
And that was that. While other pods didn't manage to make it to the planet, theirs had. People, strill, and anything else were now safe upon the planet's earth, the darkness reigning around them. The nightlands of Ryloth. Madalena paused and inhaled the air before wrinkling her nose. This had never been her planet. The fake memories that had made her up when she was in her sister's bodies had been programmed to keep her away from it. Now that had her own memories, her own mind, and her own opinions that had nothing to do with it… SHe could see the appeal, though she still preferred less desert-y areas.
"We walk to the-" she stopped her words in the middle as the transmission sent to her by Annasari
sounded in her earpiece.
All the others in her group would see, was Madalena's smile stretching wide. She motioned with her hand for them to wait as she clicked a few buttons on her forearm.
"Hello darlings,"she purred to Toph Graystone
and Ripley Kühn
. Their exact location, she did not know. Did not need to know. They were slicers, not combatants, and in the event that she was ever caught… The more people she couldn't give up because of the torture, the better. "The meeting on Siskeen is going as planned, but we got a lovely new morsel we can use. All the channels have just broadcasted this."
Clicking another button, she sent it to them. Derek Dib
, Viceroy of Siskeen, out right admitting that he had told the Confederacy that the Agents of Chaos were coming.
"I want you to take his admittance to it and play it on a loop into every Rylothian frequency you can find. Open, private, it doesn't matter. Send it to everywhere in the Core as well, let it spread. And write… That the Confederacy knew we were coming, and has chosen to hide behind its civilians, behind the Twi'leks, and behind their children. That is the true face of the Confederacy."
They didn't need to reply to her. Hired as they were, she knew their worth. She had no doubt that the mission would be accomplished.
Turning back to Judd, Hanna, and Jai, Madalena nodded. "We march into the mountains!"The altar of Spirits was not far at all.
In the distance, a single Churi bird that had somehow got split from the rest of them, looked quizzically at the sky.
The sound of the thermal imploder rocked the area and sent the people that had moments ago been celebrating their bondage into full-on panic. From both Aali's sacrifice, ancestors keep her spirit, and his own bomb in the CIS Defense garage Twi'lek freedom fighters poured into the streets. This was their all or nothing. For weeks they had been planning and for months they had been silent and now they hoped that they could take back their home in one scoop. It was...Idealistic and honestly a little foolish, but the beings behind the Agents of Chaos had given them hope.
"FOR A FREE RYLOTH!!!" he shouted as a Freedom Fighter Lylek rider rode past, one of the insectoid's long tentacles wrapping around his waist and pulling him up behind the rider.
"You've done good today brother. Here take this rifle. Shoot for me while I ride." It was a Outer Rim blaster, a little battle-worn, but otherwise operational. He set it to burst and took aim at the first battledroid he saw and pulled the trigger. He'd debated on using his lightsaber, doing what he knew the Jedi wouldn't. That was why he left them after all. They had been too passive. Not like he was now, a passionate man of action. He caught another droid in his sights and fired. The liberation of Ryloth was going to be difficult. There would be much blood and there would be Twi'lek who could not see the chains that had been shackled around their ankles and their wrists and that was okay. They had accounted for that.
The energy spiders and lyleks were beasts of nature and ruthless killers. The dome pushing the lyleks' homes closer and closer to existing settlements was why his family was forced to leave their home to begin with...But the beast masters had done their best work. He wondered as he rode the hard carapace back of the writhing mass of tentacles, spikes, and teeth, if ever in their history the lyleks had been tamed so. They hated the droids and they hated the colonizers, but those that looked like their handlers...They were safe. That they could be sure of.
Srina Talon
| Eira Talon |
Darth Empyrean
|
Asaraa Vaashe
Duckie Talon
