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Where she heard the sounds of Galidraani voices rising in cheers and song, the Nuetralizers answered in kind, singing strange tunes with a distinct autotune, in contrast to the raw, natural voices of the Galidraani men and women belting out various shanties and folk songs. Nevertheless, Cameron had to admit, even as she evaded an approaching Cataphract, that the Galidraanis could hold a tune.
However, she didn’t have the luxury of being able to listen for long, instead staying close to her mother as the woman continued to wreak havoc on the New Imperial armor columns. Briefly swapping out her lightsabers for her SMG, Cameron opted to engage the enemy at range via a pair of calculated hit-and-run attacks.
Once more harnessing her Speed as a weapon, Cameron cut down a trio of Stormtroopers in Bullet Time-esque fashion, her SMG pouring slugs into their armored forms before the soldiers could fully process her presence in their midst. Another attack only moments later saw a similar outcome, taking down a pair of Stormtroopers before she retreated back to friendly lines.
Just as Xiphos linked up with the Battalion, Cameron appeared by her side in a flash of motion, reloading her SMG as she did. The speedster remembered her mother’s warnings regarding the Cult of the Brain Demon, but she was just as entranced by the Witch’s beauty and prowess as her mother, if not even more so.
“Hi~” Cameron answered the Witch’s greeting in a soft, slightly coy tone, a frown manifesting across her features when her mother stood in front of her, thereby blocking her view. Nevertheless, Cameron stayed put, until she called for her once more, eliciting a cheer from the speedster before following Xiphos to Castle Bast...
With every step forward, Val could feel the overbearing presence of the Dark Side pressing against the fringes of his mind. The malevolent tendrils probing the edges of his mental barriers, searching for any way in to grow the seeds of doubt that already lingered in his mind, those thoughts he did his best to suppress and ignore existed.
Abruptly shaking his head from side to side, Djonas suppressed the huff that he was about to make. It's up to us, he thought. The weight of the mission was the accumulation of every life that was lost. People he couldn't see, who all looked the same when they were suited up. But, with a sweep of his gaze across the other members of his group, and then the dark spectres that were the Commando Group, led by Grunge, these were all tangible people. Whose apprehension that he could sense, even despite the attempts made at suppressing it underneath the extensively deserved veteran status.
Djonas felt the raised anxiety before he heard the voice come over the comms.
Instantly his hand dropped, reaching to scoop up the silvered hilt. Ahead, he could already see the crimson bolts crashing into the duracrete that signaled in which direction Grunge's unit had taken.
They may not have been under his command, not directly, but was it not his responsibility as a Force user? As a Jedi he never would've been behind. He would've led from the front, fought alongside the men that'd inevitably die seeing the mission through. And then, it'd be his job to ensure that as many survived as possible.
But as an Imperial... A soldier, there were levels of importance, and those without the gift of the Force were considered less. There was fodder to clear the path, lives wasted in a diversionary tactic so that charges could be set secretly.
He only got three steps in before his arm was yanked back and pushed against the wall, the words thrown in his face both hushed and deafening.
"Where are you going?!"
First there was confusion flashing across his face, but before the look of bewilderment could settle on his features, he shot daggers into the face of his second.
"Get off me, Rix." Djonas bit out.
"We've got a job to do!"
"So do they!"
Djonas' upper lip curled upwards as he regarded the trio of Knights in front of him. The other two seemed ready to jump in. Whether it was to intervene in his and Rix's altercation, or to save the Commandos, he couldn't tell. But the tension in the air was palpable in the dank tunnel. The sound of blaster fire didn't help to lessen it either.
"And they're doing it." The Knight loomed, starting forwards as his very own squad watched.
The Knight watched as Rix stepped back to give him room. Val's hand clenched tightly around the hilt, stealing a glance down to the tool in his hand.
Tool. He thought. This was an extension of me once. Brows scrunching up. Another divergence from his Jedi training. The artificial crystal within held little connection to him. Not like the saber he had once used when he had been a Padawan. Then, every move felt effortless. Then, he felt like there was always another presence with him. One that could comfort and support him. Now... There was nothing. When he was alone, he felt it. And even with the other Knights before him, he felt alone. Their ties to the Empire unblemished by Jedi training. Not like him...
So much had changed, but the sole thing that remained constant was survival. Everybody's.
In the Knight's silence, Rix pressed.
"There's no glory in failure, Val."
The clenching around the hilt stopped, resting comfortably in his palm. It wasn't his first creation, but it had gotten him far. His instincts would get him the rest of the way to create another.
"There's no glory in these sewers." He said, staring pointedly. Yet here we are. Skulking in the dark, when we have the ability to save lives.
Turning, he threw himself in the direction of the fighting.
Argent blade bursting to life as he came around the corner tightly, Val dropped, ducking below the first bolt that would've seared a hole in his face, before he sprung back up, batting away the next scarlet flashes. The droids, on account of their numbers had restrictive firing paths. All the better for him, as he waded through the storm of fire that sought to cut him down. Left and right, his wrist snapped, weaving an intricate barrier of his own plasmatic energy as he made his way to the first of the droids.
Wrist flicking forwards, the edge of the blade cleaved from centre mass, up to its left shoulder, melted furrows in its armoured casing. Its chest belched out sparks, and it toppled to the side. Without so much as a glance to Kolson Vrask
taking cover next to him, he sprung forwards past the falling droid, and plunged his saber into the next one's chassis. The storm of crimson bolts that lanced at and past him, splashing across the energy dispersing surface of his silvered armour. The bolts were rendered harmless, though there was still some transferred heat that met the first few layers of his skin, but it was not pain that was he was unused to.
The argent blade snapped up again, to catch a bolt before it could leave hole in his face.
"Get your man out of here!" The Knight cried out over the sound of the whining bolts.
S H R I E K _ H A W K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
VJUN '65 | CASTLE BAST WIDOWMAKER
skira [mando'a] - settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal)
"First exit it is." Amon replied to Azula's instructions just as explosions began to detonate around them.*
As Mandalorians, of course, they would never take the conventional way out of the tunnels. They had to leave a trace, a sign, that it was not the Imperials' fury that the Sith ought to fear but Manda'yaim's vengeance. His shatter beam ripped a hole above and both Mandalorians took to flight, repulsorpacks ferrying them into their explosive entrance into the lower levels of Castle Bast. Amon's darksaber snap-hissed to life ready to meet any foe expecting them.
Instead of Legionnaires, or Sith, they were 'welcomed' by droids. Yet another symbol of the dar'jetii's cowardice. The wrist launcher whirred to life, capacitors flashed blue and an onslaught of ion energies was fired at the decimator drones until they were rendered useless or destroyed. A few, specific blinks and the HUD shifted to reveal the movements of the Imperial party still moving in deeper beneath the Castle.
"We need to hurry, Azula. Before your new friends - the Imps - blow us to bits along with the rest of this cursed place." the Vizsla stated as he scanned their area. An eerie feeling crept at the back of his head at the sight. It felt as if they had gone into the den of all that was evil in the galaxy. He shook the atypical jitters away and took point. They had to find a terminal, a database, anything that she could access, and find more about the state of the family that was ripped apart by the Sith.
NIV EPITAPH II, FLAGSHIP
COMMAND BRIDGE, PRESENT TIME
Turbolasers slammed against deflector shielding from ground and space. As Ceres closed the gap, every shot taken became tangible in the soles of every officer's feet on the bridge. Still, not a single shot aside from strike craft and point defense had been yet returned. The fleet held steady against assault, retaining a tight formation as they trudged slowly through the corridor cleared through the debris field.
"We've reached optimal firing distance, sir."
"Send the order, begin execution of Plan Hydra," Eskel commanded.
His words were relayed through comms officers and delivered to all vessels in the fleet. The pair of Shieldships parted, leading their escorts of Vandals and singular respective Tirailleurs with them. The Corvettes and Cruisers kept themselves packed tightly behind the parasols. The rear formation, The Epitaph II. Praefects, the remaining Inceptus, and the two auxiliary Trirailleurs followed neither.
The rear formation opened fire onto Sith fleets, firing all weapons in a hail of sudden, surprise fire as they sustained a forward pace. The stream of assorted colors rushed forward, assaulting every piece inch of enemy steel they could reach. Shieldships increased speed, maneuvering to circle around sides of the enemy formations. Their huddle would adjust for full advantage of the parasol cover as they approached.
The leftmost shieldship suddenly began to drift, no longer accelerating. Locked at a fixed pace through the vacuum over Vjun. "Vanguard's engines have been disabled by Ion Mines," a Lieutenant promptly informed aloud.
"How long will the fields last?"
"Scans estimate half a minute, sir."
Contextually, thirty seconds with no shields or engines might as well have been an eternity. It only took a moment for the opposite Shieldship, the NIV Bulwark to reach the side, cueing its escort to drill the enemy ships with their own strafing fire. Two prongs of attack seemed somehow thousands less than three at the moment. A Sith bombing run had left the NIV Vanguard dead in the vacuous waters of space.
"Order the escort to advance around the parasol, continue the strafing maneuver. All rear formation vessels activate interdiction fields."
Vanguard took fire, blooms of fire expanding around the hull. The contingent of Vandals and the trailing Tirailleur circled around the umbrella-like bow of the Vanguard and advanced uncovered. A Vandal-class detonated under enemy fire before they reached their positions. Flanking fire erupted from the unshielded strafing party, hammering the port side of Sith formation.
The shielded and shieldless strafing formations maintained speed as they inched toward the enemy's rear. Strike craft scrambled from every conceivable orifice of the fleet, flying to support larger vessels. The Epitaph II and accompanying cavalcade of Imperial wedges charged forward, not slowing as the kilometers diminished and the tips of ships came close to courting distance. Trajectory dictated all three pieces of Ceres Fleet would meet at a singular point behind the enemy.
If only the enemy weren't in the way.
NIV BULWARK, LEFT SHIELDSHIP
HANGAR BAY, COMMENCING PLAN HYDRA
Harper felt as if his stomach had disappeared from his gut. The Bulwarks artificial gravity field released its grip on him as soon as the Excursor flew through the hangar's atmospheric shield. Imperial TIE fighters harassed enemy craft and drew fire off the small squadron of Excursors. There were enough lights flashing beyond the viewports to give a man a seizure.
Everly was too filled with adrenaline to notice the throbbing in his head it had evoked. Iron grip around the yoke, he maneuvered through the void hellscape. Every Excursor split, breaking toward every priority ship they could reach. The Cerebus, the Preventor II, and others. Over half of them were reduced to space dust and space debris before they made any ground.
Determined not to meet the same fate, Everly employed every fancy flying trick he knew. A shot grazed their lower hull, sending alert chimes off in the cockpit.
"S-Sarge?"
"Shut up, Corporal," Everly snapped.
A wide curve hooked around emplacements, flying low against a ship tagged as 'Cerebus'. Before jolting to a stop atop the hull. Magnetic landing gear clung to durasteel, leaving a solitary Excursor atop the enemy ship. Comms came alive with other pilots confirming their landing onto other ships in the fleet. Their sister vessel landed beside them as men in atmospheric suits scrambled out of the support craft and into the vacuum of space.
"Let's go, let's go!" Everly shouted into his helmet.
Harper and the boys lifted now weightless crates from cargo bays and began fluid spacewalks across the top of the Cerebus. Their efforts were mirrored by every surviving Excursor that had survived to land on other ships across the Sith Fleets. Fighters adjusted flight patterns to cover the exposed engineers atop ships as they clamored with magnetic boots toward every vital system they could manage, including command bridges.
"Get those charges in place!"
Their only piece of mind came in the fact that collateral damage would surely act as protection against the bulk of the enemy fire. It was a damned if you do, damned if you don't kind of choice being forced upon them. Surely the Sith couldn't be so reckless as to risk injuring themselves...
Could they?
NIV EPITAPH II, FLAGSHIP
COMMAND BRIDGE, EXECUTING PLAN HYDRA
"Engineers are in place."
"Send the Praefects forward. Keep their guns off our boys."
Praefect-class Star Destroyers took point on either side of the Epitaph II, firing at targeted ships. Their targets were limited to designated 'safe zones' that put their interloping engineers at the least risk. The closer a vessel came, the easier those safe zones became to focus.
Another bad feeling. Something tickled the back of his mind, giving him indecent visions of fellow bridge officers. He recognized it at once, more Sith trickery, had to be. Eskel gritted his teeth, resisting sudden onset urges. He tried to ignore it "Has Vanguard regained engine power? They haven't gone d-"
A hand caressing against his chess broke his focus. When he saw the look in his Ensign's eyes, he realized the extent of the sorcery. He wasn't the sole target, and the Ensign hadn't resisted. "Don't look at me like that!" Eskel demanded, shoving the Ensign with one arm. "Get ahold of yourself, Ensign!"
Ensign Kran blinked, shaking her head as composure returned. "I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't let them get in your head!"
Eskel's gaze shifted just before a sizeable tremor rocked the ship. Admiral instincts kicked in. "Divert power to forward defle-" Eskel shut up when seeing the state of the bridge. Those who had succumbed were either doting on one another or sucking each other's faces off. The ones who had resisted looked horribly confused.
The Admiral stomped forward, prying the Sensor Operator and Defense Officer from one another. Holding the Sensor Operator. Lieutenant Bord, by the collar, Eskel planted a firm slap onto his face. On the backswing, he struck the Defense Officer, Junior Lieutenant Jaeda on her cheek with a firm backhand. "Get ahold of yourselves, you freaks!" Eskel roared, hand throbbing. The two slowly snapped back to their present reality from the shock of Eskel's actions.
The Sensor Operator had been too concerned with her impromptu partner to report the flotilla of ships moving to board them. Interdictors had done their job against cloaking, along with emissions sensors, but distraction had been the intruders' saving grace.
He reached over, snatching another officer by her ponytail, and pried her from the lap of the Chief Weapons Officer. A sound of frustrated contempt erupted from Eskel's chest. He pulled his sidearm from the holster and fired it into the ceiling of the command bridge. Everyone, startled, was looking at him.
"The next two officers I see snogging will have their chance at a shag while dodging turbolasers in an escape pod aimed directly at the Sith fleet! Am I fething clear!?"
Officers looked horrified at both Eskel and the things they had just done with little volition of their own. Another tremor nearly took Eskel off his feet. "Lieutenant Jaeda if you don't divert deflector power in the next three seconds I'm sending tibanna through your skull!" Eskel brandished his blaster. He wouldn't ever truly do such a thing. No better way to whip a dazed officer back into focus than with a threat on their life.
"I want a fething report right now!"
"B-Bulwark has regained power, but they've sustained heavy damage."
"Tell them it's time,"
"Sir?"
"They'll know what I mean. Go on!"
Vanguard knew exactly what that meant. The shieldship mustered what it could and plowed its parasol into an enemy cruiser. Thrusters fired above safe capacity to shove the ship out of position, and if all went to plan, fatally into another.
"For Galidraan!" Captain Minsk of the NIV Vanguard shouted over the comm as he performed the nearly suicidal maneuver.
Shieldships split with their escort of corvettes and singular cruiser to being strafing runs.
Excursors deploy and land on Sith ships, (NNyxeris
, Alina Tremiru
, and others)
Engineers begin attempting placing charges with covering fire from strike craft. Valen Arenais temporarily disables a shieldship with Ion Mines. The escort continues strafe maneuver without it. NNyxeris
causes momentary disarray in the command bridge with another spell.
The previously disabled shieldship regains power, though is heavily damaged. Proceeds to perform a ramming maneuver to with the intent to reposition enemy ships and cause collisions. Darth Banshee
slips closer undetected (for now)
"Chchchchch. It seems I've under estimated just how impervious those shield ships are." The Shieldship, even disabled, even with every single cannon focused on it now that it's shields were down, recovered. Charged forward all over again. Siege stroked his chin under the mask, humming with thought. The fleet was already dispersing. Only a fool would stay still when something like that charged forward. Not that it saved one of the Frigates from being slammed into. There was quite the bright light as the ship shattered.
"Quite the predicament. If there was any sort of reinforcements, this would be so much easier."
"Sensors dictate enemy ships have landed on our hull! There seems to be enemy troops filing out. Targeting all our outward systems!" The panic was real. It wasn't an easy thing to hit such small targets attached to the side of the ship. That's when Alina raised a hand. Her eyes closed as she stepped towards the glass.
The flow was everywhere on a planet. But in space? There were only little blips of concentrated life around her. Most, close by. The ones on the bridge. The others, outside. In space. Her hand turned as she reached out to those blips. Her power over Anima, over blood, would be shown in full force. She would move to heat them up from the inside. Increasing the temperature of their blood to a blistering degree. Boiling them from the inside out.
"I'll deal with those on our ship."
Siege stayed quiet as he watched the display. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he knew full well that the Sith was doing something. So instead his attention turned outwardly. In the hasty rearrangement of the fleet to avoid the suicidal shield ship, he noticed two things. First, the ships that were with that Shieldship were no longer covered.
The second, a massive ship from seemingly nowhere descended upon the enemy. Empire, clearly, but he hadn't gotten a report for reinforcements. He chittered behind his mask.
"All guns focus on those now exposed ships. Bring them down one by one. Scramble the rest of the fighters. Take out those attached ships. And make sure those bombers turn their attention to the ships we fire upon." He paused for a moment.
"Chchchchch. And co-ordinate with the guns down below. I want those Ion cannons ripping apart the shields of our targets so we can try to even the numbers." The last of the Caedus Fighter emerged from the hangers, screeching out as they ripped through the air to intercept any more of those Excursor ships from getting close to land. And trying to deal with the ones that landed. The remainder of the bombers and their escort changed direction from the shield ships, making runs on the now exposed ships.
"And keep making distance with those Shieldships. I don't want any more of our ships rammed."
BARRAN'S LOADOUT Primary:Custom Blaster-Pistol(Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw) Secondary:Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore(Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding) Last Ditch/Second-Blade:Fairbairn Vibroknife(Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding) Pocket-Weapon:Berach's Brass Knuckles(Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)
Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry) 203 Cataphract Tanks (-10) 29 AFVs (-2) 6 ACVs 1 Battalion of Riflemen 1 Company of Combat-Engineers 1 Company of Elite Combat-Medics
THE BATTLE FOR CASTLE BAST: PART 1 - PREPARE - FOR GLORY!!!
Gaining ground, inch-by-inch, foot-by-foot, but still encountering plenty pushback after the Sith's concentrated fire routed the allies who'd attempted to charge the defenders still fighting doggedly for the last few-hundred metres at the time, Lord Erskine knew the objective was effectively complete, as all the miles of destruction behind them marked the ground the New Imperial Order held as they continued to capitalize on their well-coordinated advance. The only ones seemingly holding their ground against the wall of firepower were the Nuetralizers, displaying their own unshakable morale by singing songs and roaring battle-cries of their own as the lines crumbled around their orderly fighting-retreat. It made for quite the auditory contrast to the booms, the screams and the rapid fire of blasters, SMGs and LMGs alike, as the sounds of war struggled to drown out the surprisingly-weaponized morale-boosters with all the savagery and cacophony expected of the castle-assault's opening stages.
Some Cataphracts had been lost in the process, including a couple exposed AFVs, but the overall integrity of the line was still much too deep to be affected by it, and certainly less-pronounced by the measured, stern-hearted push forward that would adhere to no timings of the battle's ebb and flow but Barran's own, and Barran's alone. Two offensive-lines worth of Galidraani tanks, creeping forward at a snail's pace to ensure each segment of the approach to the fortress was taken and held with certainty, a working efficiency that made it difficult to push back against; even with all the power of the Sith Empire's sallying-attempts in answer, there was no mistaking that the next stage of the battle was well and truly underway, marking the impending defeat of the fortress's defenders like the winding of the battle's clock had just been complete, like it's ticking hands could be heard from Bast's highest tower with increasing dread.
'Close enough to the ramparts that both oor offensive-lines can fire oan just aboot anything up there! Heh! It's honestly just expensive pest-control at this point, but my God! At times, it really can be a beautiful sight t'behold, eh?'
Watching as a few segments of the wide, ugly walls began to crumble, the silent agreement of the Saga's crew could be felt without even having to look around to see it for himself; the Stormchaser knew, and chose not to push for affirmative answers as they all saw the green-hues intermingle with the black smoke and red flames with frighteningly-pretty results that continued to grow on the Blue-Hearts with enough time in the fight to stop and appreciate it for the aesthetic pleasures the environment yielding for all bearing witness from within the crucible. But the sight of a young girl leading a contingent of the Nuetralizers in their slow retreat towards the nearest shell-breaches had raised eyebrows, no doubt the daughter of one of the Blue-Hearts' three most-hated foes, but one who appeared to have had training from one of them. He couldn't discern from looks alone who the mother was; and yet, it mattered little whether it was Laertia, Syd or the Amalgam, as this one was dancing around the spare noose with every strike she cast out in the 2nd Brigade's direction, looking very much to be following in any one of the perceived-mother's footsteps in that moment.
'Apple doesn't fall far fae that tree anyways.... Disappointing, but not entirely unexpected of that lot anyways.'
THE BATTLE FOR CASTLE BAST: PART 2 - DISCOVERIES
After settling in to the fire-patterns of the nearby vehicles, A Coy. would find their colleagues from C Coy., joining the combined-arms of the Lord-Commander's central-point of the New-Imperial advance in full fire-and-manoeuvre action. Pushing forward as ever, stealing miles for every inch of the ground the Sith had ruefully yielded to them so far, and it showed; Baird's closer subordinates, as a result, would acquit themselves well by communicating well with their rivals within the brigade, attaching themselves between the weaker links in their formation, and offering precision aplenty wherever it was needed. A much needed injection to the heavy-laden advance of the body-guard fireteams under fire, but the center of Bodyguard Company's line was pushing a little too far ahead, something the young Captain couldn't allow to become a costly mistake; turning to his nearest shooters from Command Company, Baird made sure to bolster the overstepping infantry-formation and reign Staff-Sergeant Auchan's men back to the majority's frontline.
'You're an Eejit, sir! What's the actual karking point to your presence here? You have no stake in the future of the- aaah, chite! OPEN FIRE!!!!'
In the process, A Coy. would catch a glimpse of a few from Auchan's Tac-Team 2 firing on a very nimble Nuetralizer, closing in as they finally managed to ding the male-design's right calf and hamstring out of sheer luck alone; however, running in to tackle the advanced-droid at full-sprint, as he hurled murderous insults in his attempt to slice through Auchan's subordinates, the unlikely would happen for the Blue-Hearts again. Both Baird and a heavy-set 2nd-Leftenant of A Coy. had almost-perfectly picked their spot to drive home their union-rules illegal tackles, and had driven the tackles home well, completely flooring the Nuetralizer with surprising amounts of impact-pressure and dogpiling the marvel of modern technology as if it were little more than an aggressive player from an opposing rugby team. He would still struggle against the mass of Blue-Heart riflemen until Baird growled in his ear, angrily groaning,'Calm it, Droid! We aim t'cut ye loose as soon as ye answer us a few questions! Nuhin' compromisin', we promise!', with the weight of the others crushing down on his back as he continued to let them pin the Nuetralizer down.
'Do I have any choice in the matter, rebel-scum? Let me up and maybe, just maybe we can see if your questions are acceptable or not! NOW GET - THE HELL - OFF, YOU DAMNED YOKELS!!!'
Lives were swept away and became one with the current of death that loomed over the lands surrounding Bast. A place so rich in pain and suffering that it was part of the very air they all breathed. With every swelling of the lungs, more of it ran through their veins pumped throughout by the very hearts that soon too would be clenched by its corruption.
But nowhere on this battleground could the suffocating nature of the Darkside be experienced as delightfully as in the holy halls of the castle itself. Here it oozed out every rupture in the stone, crawled out of every shadow, and peaked around every corner. It whispered in your ears comforting you, that it's fine to want more, really want more. Not only that but that you actually deserve it too. It's all there right there, but you need to take the first step. Come free yourself from the weight the world latched onto your back. It's not your fault, it never was, it never will be.
Let it take control.
Almost a cut no? A small rip in the force, just a little one that was all it would take. The Sith slime went ecstatic just at the thought of it.
He indulged these thoughts while gleefully witnessing the deaths of thousands as the war outside turned into a maelstrom of gore and laser.
His mighty StarrFortresses and Artillary Droids giving it their best to partake in the culling. Continuing to set ablaze all those unfortunate enough to fall into the line of their hellfire.
"My lord" it was the artificial voice of one of his Goliath Droids"Previously deployed countermeasures have been eliminated, armed insurgents confirmed" The COMPFORCE´s firefight having alerted the mechanic overseer.
Over 500 liter of Sith slime cramped up as the organelles swimming in his formless body lit up in different shades of red. Anger. His preferred emotion to carry into combat.
"Override brodocols on de closesd Probods, inidiate self-desdrugd on darged desdinadion, den bag dem up wid de remaining droids"
(Override protocols on the closest Probots, initiate self-destruct on target destination, then back them up with the remaining droids)
The Ugorian took a few more steps, filled to the brim with hatred for these vermin who dared to take even a single step upon this sacred ground.
"Waid, send de remaining Organid Annihiladors down. I demand a more greadive abbroach."
(Wait, send the remaining Organic Annihilators down. I demand a more creative approach.)
The small orbs sprung to live many levels above him as their inorganic eyes twitched with the intake of information. Without a notion, all five of them burst into formation flight, speeding along to vanquish the Siths enemies.
Determined to prove excellence to their master their little seemingly innocent bodies would glide swiftly through the shadows onto their destination. They had been given coordinates to reach from where on they would make use of the explosions induced by their droid cousins that were hurrying to the same place. Once they could engage on enemy targets the nimble machines would erupt into monstrous tentacled killers. Darting around carving into their targets with an eye-fired laser cutter to open up armors or suits and then burying their energy tendrils in their wounds evaporating organic matter where they touched it.
A deadly machine horror to strike fear into his enemies' hearts as their comrades would be diced apart or carved out bit by bit.
Considering machine horrors though, his next command would set forth a much great one.
"KS-05 Hammer and KS-05 Stronghold" the two droids had been allowed to name themselves for the duration of their service to him "Bring an end do de enemies mosd glosesd do me, do whad you musd, reduce sdress on de sdrugdure where you can"
(Bring an end to the enemies most closest to me, do what you must, reduce stress on the structure where you can)
These halls have withstood conflict much graver than this DarrVack was sure, but it was still a wise reminder to a droid the size of most modern battle tanks.
Hammer and Stronghold would activate all other droids stationed within the walls. A small army ready to protect the halls of their ancient master awoke to life ready to purge it of the invaders. Droids held a special place to this place, a connection much deeper than many would ever know.
The two goliaths would set out themselves, to do just as they had been instructed, armed to the teeth and trained by previous conflict they would become terrifying opponents to any who dare face them in combat.
A swarm of mechanical death bringers was set loose to flood the tunnels. Patrolling and attempting to hold off any advances deeper into the underground of the fortress.
DarrVack would join them soon, but there was someone he needed to meet first. It was so close now, he felt it. That potent mix of seemingly tainted darkness with a hue of something. Was it Dathomir? Uhh was it magick?
Letting go of his wrath as it would do him no good in an introduction he instead allowed greed to take hold of his reins. He now strived to satisfy his glutenous ways and to bear witness to this sweet fruit of darkness, whatever shape it may take.
He adjusted his gravity boots to aid his movement and turned a corner with one massive step, his huge red armored shell would appear in sight of the young man hurrying along guided by the projection of two legendary figures.
The Ugorian was shaken at the sight, the shadows revealed a truth reserved for a select few to this creature.
A child? This was the source of this dark spring?
What a glorious surprise every day in this life was. The galaxy a cosmic jester who just couldn't get enough.
DarrVack the Detergent Sith intended to intercept the movements of the armor cladded human with his sheer size alone. Once he had Jins attention hed stare right into the boy's blue eyes hidden behind his imperial helmet as if he were looking for something at the bottom of a pond. He knew it was there, the ripples in the water's surface just made it hard to focus.
"You poor boy" his words sounded as if they were made of the same material the slime was.
He already knew of his loss, his ordeals. He so clearly already possessed the innate lack of light inside that was key to truly understanding the darkness.
"Do nod worry for dis shade of de force has many drudhs do dell you."
(Do not worry for this shade of the force has many truths to tell you)
His weapons holstered he stretched out a clawed gauntlet in the youth's direction.
"I gan sense your sdruggle from a disdance dat is how big id has godden, blease don'd gonfuse aggebdance as giving in."
(I can sense your struggle from a distance that is how big it has gotten, please don't confuse acceptance as giving in.)
His deep bloated voice was amplified by his breather "No madder wad, as long as you have bower you are de one do shabe desdiny, you sday in gondrol"
(No matter what, as long as you have power you are the one to shape destiny, you stay in control)
With his outstretched metallic digits, he waved the child towards him "Let me show you".
Footsteps skulked beneath the roar of acidic downpour. Zaavik crept past Sith and Imperial alike, visible only by the tiny protective phantasmal parasol-dome he kept conjured overhead. He made it far without incident, but as precedent dictated, his luck had a habit of running out.
It happened almost too quickly to comprehend. A misstep had rendered his camouflage redundant. The blade came out, limbs fell, Zaavik slipped out before it could escalate further. The setback cost him nothing but time, but time was his most valuable commodity now.
The only certain avenue off Vjun was a pile of scrap and flames. Injury brought him far beneath operating at full capacity. To complete a task while hindered, and still find a way off-world required time. Time Zaavik hardly had anymore. He almost regretting not imploring Aradia to reconsider when she'd put it on the table. The point of no return was too far behind him to even observe.
Speak of the devil. The mental ping was unmistakable in origin. The urgency was enough to make him nearly trip over his own steps. He halted for consideration. How could it be a trap? Was someone expecting them? Their plans were purely word of mouth between them. No one should have known anything- Unless the warning was less literal than he understood.
You're kidding. Startled, Zaavik flickered in and out of cloak. He whirled, remaining slightly transparent as he ignited his saber. The blade's verdant tip pointed defensively at the unfamiliar figure. He gave them the fish-eye, scanning up and down with bloodshot blues. "Yeah? And who the hell are you supposed to be?" A bounty hunter, from the looks of it. Nothing about them was familiar, despite their identity which remained entirely unbeknownst to him.
If it was a bounty hunter, as the look seemed to foretell, it held only one implication.
Remaining presumptuous of the stranger and their intentions, he retaliated further: "I don't have time for you- uh- whoever you are. Why don't you feth off before you end up with a chest full of hot kyber?"
Djorn's intervention was enough to make the woman's eyes widen in surprise, yet before she could both stop him and interject, he had already made his move and grabbed her arm, dragging her with him as the beast exploded in a fit of rage, blindly thrashing at the sudden pain jolting through its body. Rifle tucked close to her chest, she darted after him, tapping the switch by her temple to activate her nightvisor fully, painting the darkness in hues of green and white. "Unless it pursues us!" She answered him, malcontent at his choice obvious in the bite of her tone, "But I think we've got bigger problems!"
The tunnel had suddenly come alive, filled with the deafening hiss of blaster fire and even more concerning, the rapid droning hum of machinery. Droids of some sort, and a number of them. They sounded close, far closer than she would have liked, and with the rampaging rancor to their flank, retreat was an option no longer. Calm under the rising pressure still, the chiss skidded to a halt around a corner, peering beyond their position into the darkness. Scanners built into the helmet she donned surged to life, exposing the electrical signals of inbound hostiles.
"Droids," she stated, "I'm counting five. I've got three IL-MDDs on me, but nothing else that can help us, not unless you can buy me some time." She looked to the man in the dark, already drawing one of the charges from her utility belt. "I can try to rig these to release a greater burst of power, but I don't know how long it'll take and I can't decipher any proper intelligence on those units." She flattened herself against the wall, leaving her rifle to hang from its sling across her torso and exposed the array of tools built into the gauntlet of her right arm, grasping after the proper hex-key to fit the screws encircling the device. Ever resourceful, her mind raced as she considered the depths of the engineering behind the device and precisely how she could manage to accomplish such a feat in a short window of time.
The chiss glanced up briefly towards Snake, "Do whatever you can, don't let them get close to you, we don't know what they're capable of." A gentle hiss exposed the internals of the magnetic charge she clutched between her hands, revealing the array of laser-focused coils in their inactive state. It was then the revelation struck her. "Wait, if the housing is what focuses the EMP charge... maybe..." she thought aloud, lofting the device to eye level where she could inspect it more closely, "never mind buying time, I've got it. Here, take this. It's got a four-second spin-up time, cook it in your hand and toss it into their path, make sure those coils are facing up."
The plan was simple then, really.
Each of the grenades the operative carried with her possessed the ability to release a tightly knit EMP burst, typically focused solely on the target it had magnetically attached itself to. However, with the housing removed, the foci had been stripped from the equation, exposing the coils and inner mechanisms to the air directly. If her theory was correct, sliding the grenades into the path of the inbound droids with the coils facing upward should cause the charge emitted to burst into the air directly, rather than onto a specific target.
"The radius is going to be tight, make them count." She further emphasized, passing off the charge before fetching another and starting the same hasty process to remove the housing.
A close-range, sucker punch-esque attack was normally a devastating effective play, but it could also be a gamble, as a detonating missile fired at such intimate ranges could theoretically damage the attacking craft, if they got too close or unlucky. For the non-Force-sensitive ace, it all happened too quickly for her mind to process, if not owing to the relativistic velocity of an energy torpedo, but an apparent premature detonation. While the governing computer brain told her that her torpedo had been intercepted by a proton torpedo, the strand-cast couldn’t begin to fathom the possibility, especially now.
Alarms went off in her cabin and warnings prodded at her awareness as the Lobeha Mwadu’s shields were overloaded from the explosion, sending her interceptor careening off-course as she fought to regain control of the temperamental machine. Damage reports streamed in, fried shield capacitors which meant that she would have to fight the rest of the battle without shields, damaged laser cannons, and overheating engines. In answer, power was shunted to the ion-flux cooling system as first priority. Speed was life and without it, she would surely find herself either ejected into the void or rendered unto stellar dust, especially given her lack of shields.
Her next order of business was regaining control of her craft, an issue which became immediate as a fresh stream of warnings poked at her awareness, informing her of the missile hot on her tail. Gripping the sticks, the Twi’lek let her senses fall into the machine, embracing the beat of its solar heart as she worked to shift the etheric rudders, controlling them via the Neurocrown as she would her own legs or arms.
Once the craft was corrected, the active protection system had a clear shot at the incoming projectile, shooting it down in a fiery explosion as the Lobeha Mwadu accelerated out of its spin.
Then, she seized the initiative.
Taking the first step in the familiar dance of dueling starpilots in the void, SV-2121 drove her interceptor into a hard, decisive break turn at maximum G in the direction of the X-Wing which had fired the missile, committing power to the engines as she did. However, the Twi’lek received a transmission from the Chimera, which warranted an immediate response in spite of her predicament.
“Bandit closing in on my six, but will execute, over!”
Immediately, SV-2121 shifted her course, rolling her wings to transition from one vector to another in an attempt to lure the two X-Wings towards the rear of the corvette. Then, at the very last moment, upon hearing the Acolyte say ‘one’ over comms, SV-2121 angled her interceptor’s nose and dove, deploying her craft’s SLAM as she did in an attempt to get clear of the imminent ionic detonation, while hopefully leaving her pursuers still within the radius of the blast.
The Lobeha Mwadu is caught in the blast of the energy torpedo and the proton torpedo, stripping its shields and sending the craft careening out of control.
SV-2121 directs power to ion-flux cooling systems and regains control of the craft.
Active protection system shoots down incoming Brilliant Missile.
SV-2121 drives the Lobeha Mwadu in a break turn, towards the direction of Loske Treicolt’s X-Wing.
Receives transmission from the Chimera, then turns in the opposite direction, attempting to lure Loske and Maynard’s X-Wings towards the rear of the corvette.
At the last moment, the Lobeha Mwadu dives, attempting to get clear of the imminent ionic detonation.
During the captivity, the woman did not have much information, so she had no idea, among other things, how Zaavik had drifted away from the Jedi Order and how he had come close with Darth Daiara
in recent months. She did not hear of the charges with which the young man had been charged. That is why the very hostile behaviour caught her completely off guard. She didn't expect that, of course it didn't help much that she couldn't address the young man in her true identity.
Would it have changed anything? She did not know; for they did not even really know each other, they only met once when the young man was looking for Adrian, and the woman had just packed up on the man's estate when she was doing official affairs after her husband's death. It came to her mind for a moment if she had any right at all to try to help or offer help. But for the woman, the family was the family. The family was more than a blood family, this is why she did everything for Adrian's family as well.
Looked at the green lightsaber, then at the young man again. Zaavik was very different from the last time they met and the woman couldn’t tell him the truth. She sighed.
"Who I am is not very important, but we have a common acquaintance who is worried about you and wants you safely. And well, this place and everything is just not safe."
That might do it. She hadn't reached for her weapons yet. Hoped she wouldn't even need them. Ingrid found the young man very upset, but now was not the time to talk right in the middle of a siege. When she spoke, she did so with a personality belonging to the Red Witch who was much more loose and open than Ingrid was, and even showed emotion.
"So, I ask you to come with me, and please don’t want me to force you to leave this “acid ball”. I wouldn't be happy if my weapons were damaged because of you." she said almost cheerfully and amusedly.
She grinned under her helmet as Amon made their entrance, and the castle soon buckled around them. She had a file on most people, though that was strictly confidential. Sometimes. Their way in was rather loud and apparent, but that was the way of the Mandalorian. The grander the entrance, the greater a chance a fight would break out. Either way, she'd relish it regardless. She let the younger man go first, knowing his blood was pumping, and it best not for her to get into melee combat right out the gate; she could hold her own without a doubt, but the armor could only keep up with so much excitement. Azula was in the midsts of deploying one of her recon droids, when their attackers so graciously began to open fire upon them.
Droids were no match for true warriors however, and once they were rendered into piles of scrap, she went back to her work of recon. Her droids were rather skilled at this task however, able to lay out rather accurate layouts of local areas, which happened to include buildings in this current situation. Hearing Amon's comment over her comm, she gave a dismissive chuckle as she began to compile the data and run it through the holoprojector on her helmet. "Keep your helmet on Vizsla, just a bit of shell fire. Nothing to get excited about." In truth, she was keeping a mental clock running, and after a moment, she started off a timer in the corner of her HUD. She figured they had at seven minutes before the structure needed to be vacated given the rough estimates they had. That was the lower level risk zone, where death wasn't an absolute certainty. Showing the map layout, she collected her drone, and flipped through several layers of scans, before arriving at the electronics scan. Several wires crisscrossed about the floors and walls, none of which seemed to make much sense until she flipped through several different isolated scans. Several of the wires vanished, leaving only two brightly glowing wires near by the pairs location. They had their route. "Right, so going off this, security terminals have this component added to their wiring to make indirect slicing nearly impossible. So following these paths will net us a terminal." She pointed down the hall, before gripping her hand around her rifle. "Time to make your pay Vizsla, keep your eyes out." She spoke, before moving forward, prepared to run into more droid resistance, since everything with a spine was probably in the process of running or dying right about now.
BARRAN'S LOADOUT Primary:Custom Blaster-Pistol(Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw) Secondary:Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore(Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding) Last Ditch/Second-Blade:Fairbairn Vibroknife(Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding) Pocket-Weapon:Berach's Brass Knuckles(Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)
Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry) 203 Cataphract Tanks (-10) 29 AFVs (-2) 6 ACVs 1 Battalion of Riflemen 1 Company of Combat-Engineers 1 Company of Elite Combat-Medics
THE BATTLE FOR CASTLE BAST: PART 3 - THE BRAVE CARRACK GUARDSMAN
'Right, before we start askin' oor questions, ah hope ye realize how badly we've been disregarding the agreement between the Amalgam an' the Lord-Commander by the way. We're supposed t'be hands aff while the big dogs duke it oot properly, but ah'm fine wae that - so long as you know that your issues with oor commander are wagered t'be meted out by any one of the three you would name yours! Sound about right?'
The Nuetralizer was physically expressing very-human levels of distaste in his movements, and to frighteningly revealing extremes. Nuance, individuation to levels not seen before by most of the Blue-Hearts, not by the veterans who'd seen HRDs in combat, as none had seen how frightening advanced droids up close like Barran had. Not only had he duelled with the Advanced Model 1, but had also been interrogated by COMPNOR's most frightening replicant-assassin from within their ranks, one who had been crafted in the image of an Atrisian woman. Baird, in all his time serving as a Guardsman, had only seen more-simplistic designs of the Nuetralizers up until that point, so seeing more than just the fury and the slyness came very much as a surprise to both the Captain and those of his subordinates who were there to see it for themselves.
'Look, bai! What he's tryin' t'say is,"Drapp the rEbEl-ScUm talk!". I think it's safe t'say it's all gone a bit beyond that now, we're all in it to die together by this point - so have a little karking grace about it, an' fight with real intent! Personal-vendettas only get you so far before you realize you might be babbling nonsense to folk who don't even care. Food for thought.'
Shaking his head with complete disapproval, the Nuetralizer was a priceless sight in that moment, like he was genuinely offended by the notion, and he more he reacted, the more this Nuetralizer began to surprise the men standing around him in protective-equipment. The sheer lifelike body-language he was putting forth in particular, not the quickness to react or the fact his arms and hands were putting it all forth in a way a human would, but the sheer detail of these body-expressions alone was taking the guardsmen by surprise; none quite so surprised as the Carrack himself, but not at all in the same way as the others, as the guardsman thought he could see something else behind the killer's veneer of ultraviolent, ultra-intelligent calm. Guardian-Battalion's most-gifted shot from Galidraan IV, a very-deft poach from the ranks of the brigade's caste of Quartermasters, would then play a hand that none, not even the Nuetralizer, had expected him to play; but Munsten had seen much and more in his time staring through the scope of every rifle Barran's armoury issued him, and had seen the evolution of his Lord-Commander's chosen-opposition with his own eyes to formulate his own opinion on these so-called droids.
'Captain Baird, sir. Requesting permission to have a few minutes alone with this one. Perhaps, for now, you can bring the Lord-Commander down to have a word with our detainee? I recommend we initiate a comm-chatter silence, we'll be needing our conversations as dark and untraceable as possible. If we can fulfil our commanders' wishes for duels and all the rest of it, let's have it decided here and now, shall we?'
Not two seconds after the guardsman was finished talking, Baird grabbed his helmet after feigning calm understanding on the matter, ramming his own helmet into the face of the sergeant as he growled,'Better be sure you know what you're doing, Munsten.... Don't make us gie ye the Gowrie treatment, mate. We will leave your unfortunate corpse here to rot,"Unburied, Unreported, Unremembered.", an' make nae mistake on the matter!", before letting go and rounding on the Nuetralizer, but with a calmer demeanour than the one he had just offered the Carrack. Gazing up to the hills overlooking the entire approach to Castle Bast, a dry-chuckle could be heard through the visor of the Guard-Captain's anti-corrosive gas mask and tactical hazmat-suit, wordlessly indicating the Nuetralizer was far from out of the woods yet if he decided to turn rogue on Munsten as everyone else suspected he would. As he stepped closer to get to what was perceived to be eye-to-eye level, the young commander narrowed his eyelids as he concluded,'We'll be back in three minutes, perhaps sooner.', turning away and leading the others towards Barran's ACV.
'Croithe-Gorma.... Gorm ar fad, ach cá bhfuil an croí ionat, a Ryan?'
*Blue-Hearts.... All the Blue, but where is the heart in you, Ryan?
With head shaking, Munsten relented seconds later, dropping the native-language for Galactic-Basic, then ceasing the headshaking as his gaze returned to the Nuetralizer, standing with visible confusion as the entire situation as it unfolded around him. The Carrack, seeing this, chuckled lightly in contrast to his commander and put placating hands up to signal they were safe enough to speak their mind without being judged by the crowd for it, muttering,'Serenno, Csilla, Ilum... You?', to break the ice a little. Relenting as Munsten had, the so-called droid did what none would expect him to do, he relaxed, in every seeming sense of the verb, causing the guardsman to shrug it off and silently acquiesce to it as if it was bound to happen with an entity as expressive as the one leaning back and away from him. Of course they can adopt other humanistic behaviours, if they can express genuine distaste-
'First two, but not Ilum.... Who did you fight there?'
Laughing at the fact he didn't have the knowhow to hear the whispers and rumours that couldn't escape a flesher's ear, the human advantage was still clear as day; that being the ability to gain access to places that would inundate their enemies in blaster-fire and Vibroblade agony, with the presence of a Nuetralizer being no exception. Such places where only allies might feel safe enough meet and trade intel, far away from the prying eyes or ears of enemies like the Amalgam, Syd Celsius and Laertia Io alike. And yet, still impressed with the fact the Nuetralizer could survive the aforementioned battles he declared his presence on, the Carrack relented on the laughter and, as kudos for being a survivor, decided to be honest in his answer.
'Same folk we fought on Csilla! Would ya believe it, bai? Only this time, the New Order's Imperator finally heeded our calls; to let Barran have his own wee crack at the Maw's best fighters, and it happened too! Hardest battle the brigade has fought yet, and we wanted every last second of it, Nuetralizer. This is the function we serve, not the laughable need to inflict pain and anguish for this or that ridiculous reason. In other words, it's the fight itself we all live for, because we know what it does for our morale to fight harder than anyone expects of us.... You do know this is probably what drives nearly every stubborn foe you face now, or not so much?'
Objective: Take out some Sith Gear: Lightsaber, Armor, Blaster Pistol, Jetpack Tags: Adrian L'lerim-Vandiir
————————————
The Knight cursed under his helmet.
Unfortunately, his shot was a miss. That was the last thing he needed right now. Bad aim could are a break a warrior. Looking back over the patch of rubble, the enemy was nowhere to be seen.
A voice that began to speak up made him jump. It sound much closer than before, and he was in a bad spot for defense. It was fight or flight now, especially since he didn’t have eyes on the enemy.
“One…two…three.”
Quickly, the young Knight sprang upward, blaster pistol pointed out in front of himself. While his free hand reached down towards his saber, he spotted the man he fired at. Staring down his sight, he made sure not to look away and give a moment for weakness.
After the Sith spoke, he knew they were lying, like all of them. No civilian would be this far behind enemy lines, running around. Plus, he could faintly sense the power radiating from the man.
“Nah nah nah, that isn’t going to work on me Sith. I can tell you are force sensitive. There is no way you are getting out of this one with your mind tricks.”
Though something deep down inside told him to put his blaster down and move onto the next target, he decided to ignore the feeling. For now, the blaster stayed trained.
While the smoke swirled, creating a gateway for the Lady of Secrets to arrive. The woman’s voice echoed the distance they had between them, but Allyson heard nothing over the bellowing echoes of her rapidly beating hearts in her ear. Her hand, white knuckle gripped the long handle of her cobalt lightsaber that ignited the moment the smoke appeared.
Allyson didn’t speak when Taeli addressed her; it took a moment for the Corellian to find her voice. After some time, through the rain, a voice weakly asked, “Why?” Finally looking up, the Spy glared with a burning hatred for the Sith. “WHY?” She asked again as she stepped closer, the tip of the blade dragging against the ferrocrete street. “Any dealings was supposed to remain between us; no one else was supposed to be involved. Why Loske? Of all people - why her?”
All her efforts to keep her life hidden, protecting anyone she had ever gotten close to. The important people in her life were few and far between, but when the Corellian invested in someone - she knew deep down it was a death sentence. Was it a curse? At times she wondered who she screwed over to have this fate.
Knowing Taeli’s skills, Allyson avoided thinking of anyone. If she could, she would still protect them the best she could. Standing a few feet away from the sorceress. She wanted to strike; she wanted to drive the plasma blade deep into the human flesh of someone who had destroyed so much in the Spy’s life.
She spoke, her words sharp and labored through clenched teeth, “Tell me, before I stop caring for what you have to say and rip your throat out with my bare hands.”
I M P E R A T O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
501st STORMTROOPER LEGION
1st BRIGADE 'READY-FIRST' COMBAT TEAM
PRIMO VICTORIA | BEACHHEAD MADINE Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Void | Melee | Grenades
TRAITORS GATE
LAWS OF COMBAT III | PRIORITIZE AND EXECUTE
As much as the 501st had been a veteran, seasoned force in conventional warfare, so too did its wide usage across the front of the Third Imperial Civil War's vast conflict often meant senior leaders, those who would lead men and women through the fray and into the gorey visage of war would often be relieved from duty in death. Meaning new faces, new minds around the Imperator. Those who would soon have to adapt to working with the Sovereign of the New Imperial Order.
He was a long staying veteran and student of the art of war, beginning his service as a One Sith Stormtrooper and thus- had ways he was entrenched in, had demands that were precarious to meet and his tactics which more often more and more...aggressive, nigh suicidal. The requirements logistically for a plan to be implement would begin at all but three to one superior firepower and sink to whatever Irveric deemed 'good enough', 'winnable fight'. Had it been one of his subordinates, had it been any other man in the structure of the New Imperial armed forces, it would be unacceptable conditions to place fighting men in harms way as he did. But to him, no price was enough.
He had to finish the fight. By any means. It was his obsessive compulsion, having been apart of the echelons of command that ran the Sith war machine- to rip it all apart. To end it.
They scaled the fortifications, grappling lines and jetpacks in tow. Immediately, they felt the hurt and took the losses. Embrace the suck, don't panic, get organized and act. One of Tavlar's rules was always universal unto all that served under him, regardless the circumstances. Making a decision, even if it was the wrong decision, was better than doing nothing at all, better than waiting for command.
But here- luckily, there was no decisions to question, to battle to fight within one's self. There was plenty to fight around them. In shades of Myrmidon, vibroblades, scattershots and crushgaunts came a flurry to rip apart the Sith defenders on the wall, with an unfettered fury. Where most men, untrained in the art of killing would gasp at these circumstances, to see the whites of the eyes of those aiming to kill you. The Imperator's own reveled in the brutality, having lost so many of their own, having braved enough battles as is- their own imposed value of their lives diminished in the face of what could be better expended in killing their long time enemies. Sith- grunts, knights, didn't matter. They all bled the same.
<"Get air support- danger close!"> One of the 501st NCOs beckoned out to a air control trooper who scrambled for rare cover. They'd need close flight by RDAGs, to properly lay the scunion at such close range to the Sith mere meters away from them.
After a brief determination from scanners- couldn't. Air space was too contested due to an unexpected arrival. Mandos, mercs, didn't matter, they weren't Sith and they were causing problems.
<"No go! Need AA out on these gunships!"> The air control trooper replied in kind. In each infantry element of 501st troopers, surface to air capable launches were common place, at least one per squad. And thus, they began to be put to work. Prioritize and execute - clear the air.
Soon enough, Stormtroopers were getting chopped up more and more- they couldn't rely solely on anti-air, they needed proper air superiority. From their sea based launch bay on an Inceptor-class Assault Ship, the Air Control trooper rung that line and they had the priority mission ping for TIE/INx Interceptors and even better, TIE Maulers. The ever persistent tank and low flyer munching machine of the New Imperial Starfighter Corps.
Still, even to the Mandalorian's envelopment attempts, more and more Imperial troopers came ashore, digging in unprepared fighting positions and carving pathways to Tavlar's spot advanced further up the beaches. It was a kill zone for one and a kill zone for the other. There wasn't any claiming victory from either without hands buried in gore. But Tavlar, in spite of his own command over this beachhead- relied more on Veers to push through faster and harder than Madine. They just had to hold here, with the wide front and manpower allocation of the mission made to pull as many Sith Imperial assets from the armored and subterranean offensives as was possible. Even if it meant Tavlar and his men taking the brunt of the bloodshed.
They lived for it.
<"Imperator! We have a problem."> One of Tavlar's officers, Leftenent Cassel, noted Borosk bungler drew his attention to Shuklaar Kyrdol
's personal advance. Mandos. As much as the New Imperial Order had brokered an alliance with large swathes of their creed, they all argued over principles and still owed their loyalty to the heaviest pocketbook all the same. Even if its the very same who torched their home. War bred desperation, desperation bred debt, debt bred opportunities.
<"Noted. Secure this ground. If you manage to take it, destroy their weapons positions and keep moving. I'll handle it. Enigma! On me!"> His own command detachment. It was time to headhunt. From their forward position, 501st troopers of Tavlar's own, distinct from their helmets half painted with cobalt skulls began to bear down on Shuklaar's own Mandalorians- to prevent them from gaining ground and compromising their offensive.
And where ever that skull helmet was, Tavlar would not be far by, whether or not he'd be distinct from the duraplast bathed in wet sand and stained in acid rain, making for a weathered and gruesome appearance was a different story.
Adrian L’lerim Terassi Vandiir Prince of the Eternal Empire, Disciple/Acolyte, assassin, sorcerer and alchemist
Uncrowned King of the Pocket Sand, Heir of the House L’lerim, Member of the Primyn Group
With the shout, all he achieved was that the man in a Manadalorian(?) Armour found him. The boy exclaimed in fright as the man arrived, and he fell backwards. His expensive suit and pants became muddy and dirty. From such a close range, it was even clearer that he had no object that seemed like a weapon other than the cane. Under the lights of the shots and fights also showed a shade of red in her hair, which can not be seen anyway. And in his blue eyes there was a fright after the appearance of armour and a weapon.
Outwardly, there was no sign that the Dark Side had corrupted him, nor in the Force. Adrian was completely neutral in the Force. The only thing that might have suggested that he was with the Sith was that he was very similar to his father, the late Darth Prospero. He even raised his hands, after looking through his own completely “ruined,” muddy attire.
"I'm not a Sith. Yes, I am Force Sensitive, but being non-Jedi does not mean that I’m a Sith… I'm not even a Darksider. I just want to get out of this place. If I was with the Sith… why am I trying to hide from them and get around the battlefield to get to a hangar to get out of here? If I were a Sith, I would have flown away with one of their dropships by now. Don’t you think?"
Adrian hoped to be able to convince the man of this because she really wanted nothing more than to get out of here. To go from the siege to something safer and less acidic.
"So, would you help me find a ship to leave the planet?" He grinned at the end of his words.
Though they were smaller compared to the raging Rancor he attacked, its roars still vibrating off the walls of the sewer tunnels as it was in pursuit of its attackers. They had good distance away from the beast, but with the noise of blasters from the unit of droids it wouldn't be a surprise if it was attracted to the scene and hunt the Imperial operatives.
<"Gotta make this quick,"> while returning fire to the droids from his particle blaster, not bothering in aiming carefully as the barrage of blaster bolts from the enemy made that impossible without being struck by hot plasma. Fortunately, there was good news as the Chiss Imperial with creative thought figured out something to counter the droids.
<"Didn't know you were this creative,"> probably her Chiss traits to give credit to. In this situation he would've wasted some grenades in hopes of rendering the enemy and make a quick escape from the fray.
<"Think you can whip up something for that rancor?"> as the predator continued it growls, footsteps vibrating with more sound which was a hint it was nearing their position. That was another situation to worry about as the droids was more concerning than the beast.
<"Got it; coils up."> taking one of the three devices from her hand, counting down the seconds.
One
Two
After the count of two seconds Snake slid the device out to the droids, creating a small radius of electromagnetic energy that rendered the electronics and circuits of the droids.
<"Well, that's one, but it's only slowing them down. Think you got the last tw-">
<"Ah, chit.">
His sensors detected the rancor as it was a few meters away from him and Izoshi. Time was not in their favor at this moment.
<"You take care of the droids, I'll distract the rancor,"> and he wouldn't leave any room for discussion with the Chiss. They needed to act, not think; otherwise, it would be fatal for them. A few rounds of particle beams was fired at the rancor, the yield of energy more powerful than a regular blaster bolt as it caused a small explosion upon impact. Though he was out in the open and was an open target for the droids to aim, a few rounds of plasma striking at the shell of his armor. Wasn't enough to penetrate with just a blaster bolt, though a few more rounds would compromise the endurance of his armor.
<"I'm in a tight spot, Widow. A little hurry wouldn't hurt.">
It was too slow. Each bruising burst from his battle rifle that thumped center mass into each droid, peering down the crimson gaze that locked with his own burning green of the night vision projection over his visor. He willed another stimulant injection through his veins from his armor's interface, and that was in line with the arrival of the knight, Val.
Kolson's gaze snapped to the man's arrival immediately before heeding his simple command.
The Storm Commando Corps or as it was officially classified as New Imperial Stormtrooper Corps Special Forces knew what the cost would be in each deployment, each operation. There was not the scantest of chances that they'd all make it back every single time, that wasn't their task. Their job was to complete the mission. They knew the stakes, they knew the price they might pay. That was their jobs, meticulously trained and put through the trials of selection to get to this point, only to risk dying in a dank, dark tunnel.
He nodded once to DJonas before peeling above the section of cover he was huddled behind, letting his battle rifle drop down over his chest from the single point sling before pulling an EMP grenade from the webbing strewn over his chest plate, extending his left hand out and flat in the angle of his throw before launching it into the group of droids.
<"Cover me!"> Grunge yelled back to his team who laid down a beating zone or concentrated blaster fire in the Sith's main approach.
The electric rattle of the explosion would give him the moment reprieve he'd need to sprint out into the open and get his comrade, reaching him just as he ate another flurry of blaster bolts in the chest to a symphony of agony. He reached down to grasp ahold of the webbing, dragging him out from the battle as he grasped ahold of the grip of his pistol in its holster, taking aim down the sights of the battle droids only to find two more in abrupt appearance in the tunnels. Goliath Stampede, engineered by Kascalion Giedfield in his fealty to the Sith, and still put to grueling use against the New Imperial Order.
<"Goliath!"> Grunge beckoned out, identifying what were now the two priority targets, tilting his pistol hand down to launch a wrist rocket from his vambrace toward 'Hammer' before he managed to pull the downed commando behind cover. Holstering the pistol, he was quick to administer treatment before the team's medic rushed to take over.
<"Get the bomb!">He cried out to Grunge who snapped his gaze in the direction of the charge left behind by his downed teammate.
<"Copy!"> He said, pulling another EMP grenade from his webbing before launching it in the direction of the droids once more, scrambling to take up the heavy explosive charge into his arms before utilizing the straps to throw it over his back.
<"Knight! We need to clear his corridor. We gotta keep moving, to plant the bomb- or we're done down here!"> He stressed to Djonas Val
. Regardless of the resistance they had to keep moving. Taking the battle rifle up into his hands again he took aim toward the vulnerable mid section of 'Hammer' with trained, concentrated bursts.
BARRAN'S LOADOUT Primary:Custom Blaster-Pistol(Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw) Secondary:Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore(Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding) Last Ditch/Second-Blade:Fairbairn Vibroknife(Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding) Pocket-Weapon:Berach's Brass Knuckles(Right-pocket - right-hand wielding)
Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry) 198 Cataphract Tanks (-5) 27 AFVs (-2) 6 ACVs 1 Battalion of Riflemen 1 Company of Combat-Engineers 1 Company of Elite Combat-Medics
THE BATTLE FOR CASTLE BAST: PART 4 - AN UNDERSTANDING LORD-COMMANDER
After backtracking the central Tac-teams of A Coy. to Barran's ACV, they'd have to slide the Sloane-door open whilst kneeling to avoid impacts or shrapnel overhead, though the Lord-Commander didn't mind one bit; however, when the Stormchaser was being informed of the situation with Munsten and the detained Nuetralizer, his welcoming facial-expression began to change to something much colder, and much more calculating. By the time Guardian One had finished talking, Barran was shaking his head with peak disapproval all across his face as Baird waited for his Lord-Commander's response, though they both knew there was no use in giving loud, long-winded lectures on a shooter's judgement-call in the middle of a fortress-assault, and certainly not during one as vital to the war-effort as their struggle for Castle Bast.
'Baird, you're a fething idiot! However, from what you've told me, I probably would've done the same thing.... We're still bein' honest an' that, I appreciate it; we still have data-gathering and studies to put in on our own end after all, can't ever go in to war half-cocked! You know this, Bairdy! Probably better than most, so ease up on the former-Scope callsign, eh? "Magic yet t'be wielded at their best.", an' aw that chite.' Every man who gets the poach struggles to find their rhythm wae new faces aroon' them.
Seeing that the Lord-Commander was relenting, Captain Baird would acquiesce and take the advice to ease off on Munsten with nothing else said on the matter, letting the Stormchaser's map-holographic display distract him instead as they both took advantage of the comfortable silence in their own way; Barran would drink some of the Cladhan824-cask from his hipflask, letting Baird have a little glance at the top-down with every confidence the lad would like what he saw. Quite surprised by the fact they'd moved forward so quickly on both fronts, Baird couldn't help but smirk as he chuckled into his attempt to break the silence, asked,'Is Spearhead: VEERS really ours noo, Milord? Looks like the beachhead's almost completely occupied now an'aw! Are we really pushing them that badly? Feels like our usual fare o' border-pushing, but with a bit mare push-back if ye get what ah mean.', with all the amazement akin to that of a youth in a candy-shop.
'If ye staun' up for a moment an' take a wee gander, you'll see nothing but obliteration as far as the eye can see - panoramic-like.... Now, if you use yer ears an' try t'hear whit else is gawn oan beneath aw that smoothbore action, ye might hear suhin' else, an' to make it easier for ye, it's singing. The lads are singing because their morale hasn't been this high before, an' gauging their sheer disregard for their own safety, one could easily put two an' two the-gither an' draw t'the obvious conclusion.'
'They're no quite used ti causin' this much destruction, are they?', the young Captain japed his retorting question, keeping it all light-hearted for the sake of the success he was seeing on the top-down. Turning his attention back to the display behind him, Barran sniggered and nodded his affirmation before returning to the hipflask again; the obvious-yet-unasked had been put forth, one that brooked a general reaction for the others to draw strength from, one such that Lord Erskine felt it was easy enough to answer without any real effort in saying it aloud. With both crewmen and guardsmen laughing with the high-spirited, war-like joy of catharsis. Out of curiosity, and a lingering sense of slight disbelief, Baird couldn't help but ponder,'Have we honestly cleared through everything on oor way here? Like, absolutely every-thing and every-one along with it?', a question valid enough for the Lord-Commander to weigh in with his response.
'Well, there are the lightsabre-duels, but we usually leave them to it. They neither impede nor improve the progress of the war-fighters around them, so we usually just move on an' consider it Ground-Taken as we push our lines beyond it. Oor paths never cross anyways, so we're pretty much as irrelevant to them as they are to us in the crucible. Simple solution for a simple issue, we'd figured this long before the Bastion days - and so, the simple steadily becomes routine.... As all things should be, eh?'
<"Brand to Blue-Heart Alpha! Requesting permission to declare complete-occupation of Spearhead: Veers! The entire southwestern-theatre is ours, Milord. Friendlies are spilling over and linking with units on our side now, God's grace has shown us the fruits yielded from continued pushes for glory, please! We need this assault to go ahead, Milord.">
The fighting-chaplain in the making had a point, one that everyone agreed with, as their first op together since Ilum would have more of an impact on the way they fought going forward, and the perfect engine to drive that ferocity into fruition would be the voice of the Rooster. This was seemingly presenting a dampener on the Lord-Commander's plans, but Erskine knew such a call, and such an order to charge, did nothing to change the situation in the center; all he had to do was let them attack every other part of the fortress, letting the flanks attempt to link with the beachhead as the center approached more carefuly towards the pre-assault parley. Smirking it off and holding up a hushing hand, the Lord-Commander then turned in closer towards his subordinates as he brought his personal comm-device out to respond, inhaling through the nostrils and clearing his throat before clicking on the receiver.
'Barran to AFV One! Declare away, Brand! An' permission granted to lead the next attack also, everyone agrees you're the man to push our men beyond the breach. Just dae us a favour an' leave the center ti the Guardians an' the Saga, take the rest around an' past us.... Just like the duellists, but our situation involves making arrangements too.'
<"Copy that, Milord. I can't thank you enough for this.... And may the Light of God give you strength in the fight to come, embrace the pain as you did on Serenno! As you did on Ziost! AFV One out!">
'So tell me, lads.... How does it feel being led by a man of faith, an' soon to be a fighting man o' the cloth? I'll tell yees how it makes me feel - makes me happy, realisin' he actually gives a damn about the men who serve with him. He's prayin' for aw o' yees noo, more than I ever could anyways, an' you know I'm a God-fearing man like the other auld-heids. Now there's some perspective if ever yees needed any, eh?'
Darth Strosius
) │ EE │ CIS (
Laertia Io
Shuklaar Kyrdol
)
Irveric Tavlar
Hâwmâr Lurais
Willan Tal
DECEASED Erskine Barran
) │ RGO (Augustus Tassar)
