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Yea, it was probably the end of the world and all that, but a paycheck was a paycheck. Or at least, a potential paycheck. Like, someone was going to be paying for Bryn bodies at some point right? So...why not kick it off now? Alana leaned up against the wall, eyeing the so called Grand Master wearily, trying to figure out what the big deal was with jedi. Truthfully, she didn't like having them around. They gave off a static in her head that made her feel sorta funny, but there was still work to do. Crab people were gonna blow up her planet or something, so better to shoot them all dead before it came to that.
She held a spent deathstick cartridge in her mouth, chewing the plastic cover slowly, as she saw the level of which the 'resistance' group was willing to trust the jedi. It was a bit harsh, but at the same time, the criminals of this world had all the reason in the galaxy to not want the help of the Concord, after all, they'd probably be forced into the government and force only knew who and what would be getting the book thrown at them; though, she was sure some of the 'volunteers' could get time off for having helped out the jedi at the start. Honestly, given her back ground it was probably for the best to start working towards such a goal. Pushing off the wall, Alana threw the spent deathstick aside, moving towards the grand master before one of the near by knights extended a hand to halt her. She merely chuckled, attempting to lower the jedi's hand and move past, but the warrior wasn't the trusting sort, which was probably smart of him given the look of Alana at current.
"Sorry if the folks 'round here are a bit crude, they are sorta all shaken up about the whole 'death lobsters from the sky' thing going on, then your order of the glow sticks just so happen to stop by and well....we sorta feel like you're shaking us down before you throw us in the brig, if you catch my drift." Alana tugged at the corner of her hand, tipping it Kiara's direction. "Names Alana Calloway, and er, Grand Master Force Woman you're gonna need someone who knows the lingo to get these folks to play nicely." She offered a hand towards the woman, not caring if it was taken or not, she was still going to go shoot the hell outta crab people either way. "Lucky for you, I take payment in publicity, if you'd be so kind."
This was a chance to maybe, just maybe, get some bad history off her back. Either that, or royally set off the Concordians. Either way, she didn't really have much to lose.
Isla looked out of the command bridge of the Lightbringer at her fleet, they had been performing exercises when they had come across a small, aggressive set of Bryn ships. It wasn't a long fight, the enemy ships being vastly outgunned and caught off guard, unfortunately though she had to send one of her corvettes home with damage from a desperate ramming attempt.
What they were doing now was just clean up. Her marines we under instruction to recover as much information as possible to gain insight into the Bryn and their war machine.
"Admiral" came the unexpected voice of the captain of the Longbow. "We have found something intetesting, it appears the lead ship was carrying weapon components, we only have access to partial logs, but apparently the Bryn are building a weapon on a planet called Circumtore."
Isla thought for a moment, then checked her database, the planet was in Silver Jedi hands. They reasoned that the Bryn planned on attacking the Silvers, she had heard much of the Bryn but today was the first time she had encountered them. She knew enough though, they served a debased religion and only desired death. With the collapse of the Sith Empire, the Ashlans would soon share a border with them.
"Thank you captain," she replied, "gather as much as you can and transfer all data to my ship." She broadened the channel, "all ships, please wind up your assigned tasks and begin to retrieve your salvage teams, the fleet will be leaving for Circumtore in three hours"
Today
In the Circumtore system, battle had already been engaged when new hyperspace entry alerts would have rung out. The fifteen ships of the Ashlan fleet appeared in formation not far from the Circumtore Sun.
Isla quickly assessed the gathered fleets, judging by the build up, the main thrust by the Bryn was one of the moons.
"Opening a channel to the SJC, ma'am" came one of her bridge crew as instructed.
"I would like to introduce myself, I am Grand Admiral Isla Draellix of the Ashlan Crusade. I am here as an ally of the light. We have stumbled across partial information regards Bryn weapon construction, we are happy to send this to you. We will move to engage the Bryn in space and my landers will attempt to assist in your seige."
Isla send commands to the different squadrons, the large planetary assault landers took a route to allow them to avoid combat and make planetfall, their marines and starfighter complememts would hopefully be of assistance on the ground against the Bryn. The rest on the fleet took a route that would intercept to main Bryn fleet that appeared to be stationed protecting a moon.
Konrad stood rigid with arms crossed as he listened to Commander Vrask's debrief. The cigarette's smoke slithering lazily upwards into the barely functional ventilation system. Refurbishment was long needed. The statement rang truer when one was to see the sight of their gear. Some stormtrooper armors were simply a chestplate and a helmet with a camo bodysuit underneath. Broken armor joints were not welded but rather wrapped tight either by steel cables or even makeshift ropes of space leather. Such was the material cost of the Total War against the Sith Empire.
A war in which their newly found 'allies' the Silvers were nowhere to be found.
And here they were - Imperials through and through rushing to their aid.
The repugnant, sour taste at the fact would not abate. It carried the stench of what his late father had indoctrinated him to believe in—the Great Conspiracy, an intergalactic plot of all states and nations against the Empire. Against his Empire.
Everyone was out to get him, to get them.
To Konrad it was no belief but an axiom. An undeniable truth proven by the acts of the so-called Elder Council not too long ago.
Never forget, never forgive, the words of Harrsk senior echoed in his mind through the fabric of space and time.
He barely registered Valaar's acknowledging nod as he put the notorious stormtrooper helmet over his face.
While Voidwalker platoon's cohesion and strength lied in the fraternity formed on the streets of Bastion, Kaiser's platoon was a gladiatorial pit. Strength was built in suffering for the greater cause, a cause greater than any life - the Empire, the fatherland. Despite still being in the molding process, Harrsk's idea was taking roots within the unit. They would all see the Great Conspiracy as the truth, one way or the other.
0:00
The immediate area front of the designated LZ was lit up in relentless fire from Kaiser's gunship. Brutal and ruthless was this platoon's methodology. Taking point for the whole platoon, Lieutenant Konrad Harrsk disembarked from the gunship unto the LZ secured by Voidwalker's troops. Utilizing Valaar's stormtroopers' cover, Kaiser moved up ahead in a wedge formation so infamous for the Empire's elite shocktroopers.
Konrad dropped back to Aemilio, leaving his men to carry on forward, "How much of the xenophage do you carry?"
Total war had turned procurement into a nightmare; their inventories were often found below optimal levels.
"If this 'gun' is operational, then its command deck's oughta be stacked." Konrad remarked, omitting the nefarious idea of firing the weapon on both Concord and Bryn'adul forces. A righteous retribution for past transgressions.
CIS BATTLEGROUP "LINURI"
High Marshal Verin Oldo
EN ROUTE TO SJC SPACE
Defying death was part of the very nature of being in service of one’s national security. The point of war was to kill the enemy so that he couldn’t kill you or any others. The more you killed, the less of them were free to kill you or destroy your belongings or property, ensuring that you were able to dictate the terms of coexisting with another group or nation-state. Since the first primordial blobs had decided to eat smaller primordial blobs, nature had evolved to allow the strongest to snuff out the weaker elements of a species, thus forcing an evolutionary arms race in which only the fastest or toughest or strongest or biggest would survive.
The same could be said for starships. The race had always been for the strongest, most aggressively armed, most tactile craft within a nation’s capabilities, and it pushed forward all kinds of innovations, most of which ended up in the civilian sector, thus further improving the quality and way of life found within the average home of the citizenry.
Verin Oldo had always thought of this when he stepped onto the gantry, suspended above the main deck floor of the bridge beneath him. This nexus, this hub of activity that held within it all the control needed to man the CNS Al’raja, flagship to the task force sent today, felt more and more like home to him each mission and yet it also grew more and more like a tomb, a likely end to his illustrious career at any turn. He recoiled as he thought of the various crews he had sent to their deaths at his own hand and at the hand of enemies, bent on destroying all that stood in their way.
Like the Bryn
The call to head-off the assault that was falling on the SJC territories was expected and well-received, the Ministry of War instructing the NAVCOM to send one of their best task forces to aid the SJC. It wasn’t their own fight, in the truest sense of the word, but when it came to the Bryn, any sane person made that commitment. They were a scourge-a murderous pox that had doled out untold damage and destroyed countless lives, billions of souls squandered and fed to their veracious avarice. High Marshal Verin had taken what he could muster in the speed allotted and made for Circumtore, as swiftly as his fleet could be pushed.
He sat now in his command-chair, looking at the various arrays in front of him, subordinates making motions and running up and down the deck below, the servos of droids whirring and chattering as they kept the vast behemoth Al’raja at full speed. The full might of the 513, his flagship line and pride of the Sector Armada, was split up in various away missions and dry-docks, their usual fittings being overhauled as per their yearly checks. This task force was a mixture of familiar faces and newer participants; it would be a galvanizing time for all.
“Battlegroup Linuri, this is the Al’raja. Prepare for a hot entry-we are as yet unaware of hostile numbers or makeup of their fleet so will be coming in to an unknown zone of engagement-stay alert and form up. Prepare for evasive maneuvers and keep fingers off the buttons-we don’t want to be hitting any allies in a moment of zeal.”
He thought of one of his most able Commanders, Finn Roberts. He was brilliant but overzealous. He’d be just the type to plough through an ally to get to the enemy.
“Form up in pattern Aurek on the Al’raja. Finn Roberts take point, Oligard to sit tight. All craft to wait on call signal and order to fire comes from me. Anybody breaking that is in for a world of trouble.”
He remembered Dantooine. He remembered the chaos of a CIS fleet bursting into action, into the firing lines. His crews paid for it with their lives.
The ceiling crushed as the ships collided, all oxygen dissipating within seconds.
He shook his head once again, taking in the limited but effective forces now rushing towards the aid of their staunch allies. They would make it count and take as many of the Bryn with them as possible.
Hayde offered a wry grin at the commando's comment, not that he could see through her helmet's face plate. The craft suddenly jerked hard to the right, smashing her form against the cold, bulky plates of another Concord commando. She felt her own stomach churn as the atmosphere and weapon's fire buffeted the craft as it plunged through the atmosphere. A loud crack of an explosion engendered itself outside before reverberating into the inside of the drop pod itself. Her stomach's willingness to empty out the lunch inside her intensified. We're supposed to be disguised as an asteroid...how are we getting targeting so much? Her mind quicly ran through possibilities, finally settling on either sheer poor luck or the obvious point that the appearance of a meteor at such a time would probably be suspect - at least it would be in her mind. She turned her eyes on "Eights", the gray-clad commando with the subdued white chevron of a sergeant emblazoned on his right upper chest.
"Any word from the other groups?"
"No, but there shouldn't be. It's a quiet entry."
"Sure doesn't sound like it out there."
He barked a quick laugh as their craft once more rocked, "Lady, you're just new to riding the storm with us..."
Location: On the Bridge of the Boundless Honor Equipment: Flesh Vessel | (I'll link other stuff if it ever becomes relevant, but I'm in a ship, so I doubt it.) Allies: Badar Enemies: @Liram Angellus| ADM. Reshmar
| Mig Gred
| Verin Oldo Fleet Composition:
Deployed Fighters: 11/12 Phedrak Squadrons from Sraeljoarsk
2/2 from Boundless Honor
Reserve Fleet - Ships in the Reserve Fleet are behind the primary fleet. Here they will wait to be called into the fray, and damaged vessels will repair.
The two ship lines could only sit and glare at one another for so long until someone took the initiative and began the combat in earnest. Unsurprisingly, it was the aggressive nature of the Concord forces that led them to begin the battle, and the Warlord observed from the security of the flagship as a series of additional vessels joined those of the enemy line, occasionally allowing one or two of their vessels to shoot off into the dark of space in an effort at supporting the other invasion fronts - Tol Amn, for example, had given word of a significant amount of success thus far in their assault.
A growing series of blips upon the sensors of the flagship revealed the gradual wave of assault from one of the enemy carriers - a swarm of starfighters of different types and functions growing gradually toward the fleet even while the heavier of the visible carriers established itself in a defensive position, apparently intending to ward off whatever vessels were dispatched toward it by means of its bristling guns. The hybrid was not attuned to every aspect of space combat... but he did understand that carriers seldom possessed the same armament and armor as their battleship counterparts. The defensive position did ward off offensives by Osam's fighters, but that could be punished.
"Fleetmaster Badar, I am pleased to hear it." The Warlord responded to Badar as the transmission flooded into his senses by means of the mind-stone. Another glimpse at the tac-map before he determined he settled on his strategy. "I possess greater fighter strength with my flotilla - I will deal with the carrier-craft of the Concord, and with the measly corvettes they're bringing around our edges. You strike down that Ashlan fleet. Turn them to dust. Afterward, we can both focus on the Confederates."
He spun about on his heel, facing a Stonesinger manning a weapons console and jutting his finger directly into the projection of the Heavy Carrier. "The Tetrarch cannons are still fresh. I want our first volley directly on that Heavy Carrier. Cut it in half." He commanded, eliciting a grunt of acknowledgment from the officer, the immense weapons hissing ever so slightly before the tremendous beams of light spat across the empty void, illumination casting light across the shadow for an intense moment as the projections raced toward their target.
A sudden jolt nearly threw the hybrid from his feet, but the presence of the Flesh kept him aright.
"The enemy fighter-craft are striking at us - their bombers are pressuring the Quilxyn. We are fine for now, but we cannot sustain this indefinitely."
"Sraeljoarsk - aim your launch tubes over our head. Directly into those fighter formations. Maximum speed." He commanded, listening as the Shipmaster failed to act, instead choosing to point out, "The fighter-craft will risk instant collision at that angle. We will lose several of them!"
A grumble from the Warlord and a hateful gnashing of his teeth were present as his response was given, "The collisions will kill people. Our fighters are unmanned. Theirs are not. Wipe the plague from the galaxy, and kill them."It did not matter that they would lose a few dozen starcraft in the assault... they were full-sized fighters which meant that a collision at such immense speed would almost certainly obliterate both them and their target. All that mattered to the hybrid was the bloodshed. It did not need to be "conservative" or "tactically-sound" - it needed to cause pain and anguish, it needed to orphan children and widow wives.
Compliance came instantly from Sraeljoarsk as the carrier arched its launch tubes, and the series of Phedrak squadrons launched out at improbably rapid speeds. Like living missiles they slid between the formations of enemy fighters, and - if all went accordingly, would lash directly into them in several cases. Regardless, whichever ones survived would band together in a freakish amalgamation of meat and fire and begin waging a miniature war over the bow of the Bryn'adul capital ships to ward off bombers and enemy assailants through whatever methods were necessary.
All the while, whatever defensive guns held on the capitals would assist in warding off the foe, hoping to force a retreat of the fighters before they had finished battering down the Quilxyn shields.
Meanwhile, the Ravager frigates and their Kraemonen support craft escorts would begin to creep along the edges of the fleet, pushing further and further from the support of the central vessels, but gradually heading on an intercept course for the flanking pickets of the 321st and the 344th. The Scourge and Terror to Port, and the Mace and Brawler to Starboard. Each pair utilized their forms to provide some physical protection from the front for the support craft, while these Kraemonen themselves offered their shielding to the Ravagers. The two fighter squadrons remaining on the Boundless Honor launched from the flagship, one each circling these interceptors in an attempt at warding off any overly eager bomber that drew near.
While the Ravagers went on their intercept course, it was vital to maintain at least some degree of distance from the center of the enemy formation. To that end, when the Haash'n took its position, the Clan's Pride and Heroism gradually began to fire off long-range volleys of their ballistae. The railguns had been designed to penetrate directly through energy shields - the hope was that even the light engagement would be enough to breach small portions of the Haash'n and force it to back off even further. If it and the remainder of the corvettes could be kept away, it would make it far easier for the Bryn'adul forces to gain fighter supremacy, though time would tell if the effort was successful.
Of course, there was also the possibility that Concordia might try to soak damage... but again, they just needed to ward off enemy elements. They didn't need to score a kill - yet.
Summary of Actions and Effects
Fighter/Bomber attacks from Liram Angellus
cause Light Shield Damage across all capital ships and loss of a Phedrak squad (Only one for now, because they just launched, so the dogfighting only really just started up - may be more if the collisions hit, in which case I'll do a 1/1 drop in fighters with however many you lose.)
Boundless Honor uses its extremely long-range Tetrarch cannons to open fire on the Heavy Carrier Silver City
Capital Ships use defensive guns to open fire on fighter swarm.
12 Phedrak Fighter squadrons are launched from Sraeljoarsk on collision course with Liram's fighters - whatever doesn't slam into fighters will proceed to dogfight.
2 Phedrak Fighters Squadrons are sent from Boundless Honor - one to cover Port Ravagers, one to cover Starboard Ravagers
Ravagers and Kraemonen Craft split into sets of 2/2 | 2/2 and go on intercept course with 321st and 344th under command by ADM. Reshmar
Clan's Pride and Heroism both use Crusader Ballistae to fire long-range volleys at Haash'n in order to ward it away/inflict structural damage.
(Also contacted Badar to engage the Ashlans/maybe the Confeds, because splitting the work-load between us is going to make this a lot easier to actually write against multiple opponents. )
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
IN ASSISTANCE TO | SILVER JEDI CONCORD
OPERATION 'PROMETHEUS'
Voidwalker's eyes opened.
The crimson lit visor swept from left to right, eyeing the horizon before leaving a resolute and hardened Torayga behind. Fortunately, casualties were low, if not nonexistent when they came down on the landing. Anti-Air emplacements weren't as prevalent as intelligence suggested. Imperial gunships rained both explosive ordinance and xenophage based missiles along the path they were designated with taking. Beyond the barren ridge that Voidwalker's orbs eyed, he saw the wafting smoke rising into the air.
<<Is that it?>> Indicating with his middle and index fingers tightly pressed together.
<<IFF says so.>>
<<Staggered line formation. Wrap around and create a perimeter around the payload.>>
In the corner of his helmet's interface, he noted the ping by Torayga, noting his proximity lifesign drawing closer and closer. Raising his arm in a fist, it dropped down forwards, fingers splayed out as the men clambered out of cover, just as Harssk's men joined their line, supplementing their forces as they made for the stockpile and the Bryn'adul construction site.
"Barely enough for a platoon," he answered matter of factly. The attempt at a friendly facade disappeared with the sliding on of his helmet. DA-2566 was of the singular business of killing. Rotating his helmet, the glowing orbs of the helmet stared intently into Harssk's own visor. "Xenophage dispersal gunship was shot down, two klicks ahead behind a ridge." Moving forwards, the sky was alight with weapons fire railing both Imperial and Silver ships. Fighters of all kind chasing each other in a bid for air superiority.
"Closer to their construction site than our own LZ. We're recovering what's left, and then getting to this command center."
He left out the part of the expected heavy fighting, and casualties. That was a given considering their disadvantageous position.
"Have your men shadow my platoon in two groups. When we engage the defenders, come from the flanks." Without so much as another look, Voidwalker pushed on. They were of the same rank, but being the first on the ground and having taken stock of the situation afforded him seniority, to the knowing chagrin of Konrad, he expected.
He would've smirked had he enough time, but the slugthrower tech of the Bryhn'adul whipping past him forced him to dive into cover just as he was rejoining his men.
<<They hit us sooner than I was expecting,>> he said, patching into his units frequency.
<<What're we doing, Boss?!>> The apprehension could be comprehended through the vocoded voice. Being pinned down was never ideal, even if you knew there was a plan for it.
<<Tighten formation. When Harssk hits them, we'll strike in the confusion.>>
Lives blinked out in his helmet's interface. Likely men on the fringes of the formation making an attempt to return to the heart of the line. With each one that fell, his gut weighed heavier on him.
Garm chuckled softly in his private quarters on the Corvette Little Warrioras he heard the Marshal's orders through the intercom system, basking in the nude as was customary for his species before he had to report to the bridge with his confining uniform on. Seems like the old man is in a good mood today. Then again he would be like that on the eve of a battle he doesn't want to fight.Not like they had much choice in the matter. The Bryn had set about their next step in their grand plan of galactic domination it seemed, invading the Circumtore sector in Silver Jedi space. The CIS leadership of course with its infinite wisdom had decided to send Battlegroup Linuri to support any defense against the monstrous Bryn. The Daedra quickly heft himself up out of his comfy chair and went to where his uniform hung on the knob of his wardrobe. It was time to see what this new crew of his was capable of.
Soon enough, the Daedra was out of his quarters in uniform and was nodding to the sailors that saluted him as they went on their way to do their duty. He had chosen this corvette over a command post on one of the much larger Grevious classes back commanding a small ship was something the alien was used to. There also was something more... intimate about commanding a smaller vessel that Garm couldn't quite place. Maybe it was the fact that the less crew gave him less to worry about as far as personnel troubles meant or maybe it was the chance to learn every name that served under him that he couldn't dream of accomplishing on a Grevious. Either way, even though the Crimson was technically a step down from his last command, it deserved just as much respect. As the bridge doors opened, his small staff jumped to their feet as the call of "Commander on deck!"venerated around the cabin."At ease people, resume your duties. Comms, send a reply to the High Marshal that the Crimson will be ready and waiting for his next orders and will stand steady in the meantime. Estimated time to drop out helm?" The skull-faced Given navigator stood up and reported the time."About 10 minutes Commander." Not long then. "Alright, once we drop out, I want general quarters to be sounded. I don't want to be caught by surprise. Other than that, this should be a long fight so be prepared." The Staff nodded and got back to whatever duties when the Commander walked in, Garm focused on the flashing stars as they flew past, waiting for when the pinpricks of light would translate into stars and planets so he could dive into the breach once more.
Companions: 5 additional Zealots; Kru'kk, Xanlatt, Ort'nem, Valmerk and Var'Schmark.
Equipment:
Barad Disruptor Repeater.
Barad Glaive
Barad Special Operations Armour with crimson coating. (5 with no additional coating).
Barad Impact grenade (X6)
Barad cloaking Device
Barad Assault Carbine (X4)
Barad Kukri (X2)
Barad Kurigasami
The time for words was long past. Now was the time for slaughter. Gal'Zhoren spat inside his helmet. He didn't care that in doing so, he had obscured a small fragment of vision. His only regret so far was that he couldn't remove his helmet to soil the coarse ground with it instead. This would have to do, he thought. At least, until the blood starts to spill.
Having heard about the fetid Jedi's surprise attack, Gal'Zhoren assumed he was not alone in his hatred for the so-called 'peace makers'. Except, no, not hatred. He had felt hatred before. This felt far more... primal, more personal.
They were just children.
It was one thing to challenge an opponent on the battlefield. For a warrior to fight to their last was somewhat honourable, if ultimately foolish. But to go behind enemy lines to the innocents, to the children. That was no way to win a war but definetly a surefire way to prolong it. The fact the Jedi carried out such a feat, well, that just confirmed what he had had knew all along. The Jedi were cowards, weaklings. They were, in truth, little better than pests. Pests, of course, that must be eliminated. Bringing down the tower on top of the scum was the least they could do, he concluded.
Kru'kk broke the silence. "Okay". He began with a tone barely that above a whisper. "I've heard reports we've got some ambushes laid out for the Jedi scum throughout the lower levels. Should keep the filth occupied whilst we climb to the upper levels."
Kru'kk gestured with some overhead hand signals as Gal'Zhoren and most of the others rushed towards the outer edges of the tower leaving Kru'kk and Xanlatt behind.
Through their connected suit comms, Gal'Zhoren could hear Var'Schmark grinding his jaw in his set rage. The sound he made reminded the Aerevalin of clicking mandibles. He took comfort in the uneasiness of it- and in the knowing what that entailed for Var'Schmark's foes.
They were just children.
Gal'Zhoren's mind raced again. One, single, solid though. One re-occuring goal.
They were just children. For that, they would pay.
There was a presence near her. A voice that called to ask if she was alright. There was a soft shifting beneath the cloak, a full body stretch like waking in the morning that tested the integrity of the cloak. The armor she wore, once proud and white now tarnished and aged, stained with time and blood. The cloak before Omen would shift and slowly stand, the life sign shifting slowly to something just larger than that of a human, but distinctly Bryn'adul on any dedicated system as her amber eyes opened to gaze upon the strange suit that woke her.
She had finished healing, the chitin of her outer shell finally hardening as she stood her full height and turned to exam the being near her. Her body flexed, the cloak falling away as her full body was revealed to Omen. The large wings unfurled as the force coiled around her upon awakening while a smile adorned her face.
"Welcome, I didn't expect company. A shame you won't be existing much longer." She hissed, extending her wings before slashing at him with a wing and a clawed hand with a loud cackling. The force whirled and sang loudly as she enhanced herself with it just as she had done in her previous life.
Any voice recognition system would pick up a familiar series of words. The process of recognition slowly beginning as Aberrant began her second attack.
Location: The Undercity of Tilrinn, the Train Station Objectives: Create Chaos, cause a scene. Allies: The Bryn'adul (Nominally) Enemies: The Silver Jedi Concord (Nominally) Equipment: Beskar'gam , Terentatek Body Glove,Longtooth, 'Kath Hound' Shotgun,Charging Rhyno, Assorted Grenades (Force Breakers, Sonic Disruptors, Fragmentation) As the Kath Hound fired, echoing throughout the vicinity only to be drown out by the sound of people panicking, fleeing for their lives the Mandalorian waited. Without his buy'ce affixed to his armor properly he didn't have an integrated hud to differentiate between friend and foe however this was only minimally important. The Bryn'adul were alien in comparison to many more humanoid species, easy to recognize in many cases whereas it would be straightforward to identify the Jedi and Soldiers serving the Concord.
Stalking forward, down one of the Train Station platforms it didn't take long for Naimes to be confronted by defenders. The men and women he saw coming to assault him weren't soldiers though, they appeared more like a rabble; people who had banded topgether to defend their homes or criminals. Naimes was actually disappointed.
"That's him, that's the Mandalorian! They said he started firing on the platform!"
...a man shouted, obviously he had some sort of sway over his comrades however Naimes started to answer simply...
"There's no need for this, you're not the peo---"
...but he was cut off when a shot from a blaster struck him over the pectoral causing him to jerk backwards before recovering. A small burn the telltale sign of where he'd been hit remained on his Beskar'gam. The Kath Hound was raised in response, another defender looking to capitalize on the moment rushed the Mandalorian with a vibroblade and the shotgun fired, striking its target in center mass and ripping through the meat of the body. He was no marksman but that was inconsequential when he had a Shotgun in his hands.
Others attempting to rush the Mandalorian met similar fates. The Shotgun was unforgiving against lightly unarmored personal, intimidating in the hands of the man anyone was attacking when it tore through their allies. Naimes, his face composed for the most part was no monster though. When men fled he allowed it. When they attacked he responded.
The sounds of the Kath Hound, the screams of bystanders running away would only draw more attention. Behind him the Mandalorian remained several bodies, still on the platform their bodies smoking from the blasts that had torn through them. Naimes contented himself with the belief that they were criminals, Undercity Thugs and not common civilians wanting to defend their home.
To look at him, a man of years and veteran of several conflicts he did not seem the type to help the Bryn'adul but their invasion had presented him with an opportunity.
He moved closer to a train car, the Kath Hound lowered in the grip of his right hand and he reached under the duster hanging from his torso retrieving a small detonator in his left hand. As he came closer to a link between two of the train cars he'd bend down, momentarily to place the detonator.
The enemy fleet had already engaged in some areas, while the main body of the fleet had doubled, then tripled, as more and more Jedi arrived to face The Bryn. To The Baedurin fleetmaster it felt like every battle was larger. Maybe it was, maybe not, but this was certainly one of the largest he could remember, and it felt like he was outnumbered.
As he watched the enemy fleet grow, Osam's message came through the communication stone. Badar was ordered to take on The Ashlan Crusaders. It had taken him years to learn each faction and subfaction that opposed the Bryn, each species, and their ships. The Ashlan Crusade was a more recent group that tried to halt the war machine. It was an old story, united forces trying and ultimately failing to stop the Drael and their crusade, again and again. But then the losses happened at Sev Tok and Nar Kreeta, and some believed things were changing.
Badar, of course, knew things were in fact not changing. The Bryn had been beaten before. They had responded with fire and fury unseen before by most. They always rallied, and the heretic uprising was the last time Badar would ever question the resolve of the Bryn'adul.
He cracked his neck, then his knuckles, sighing and fixing his posture. The battle was officially beginning and he would see that the Bryn'adul had their vengeance.
(Isla Draellix-Kobitana
) The first thing brought to his attention was a fleet of about 10-15 Ashlan Crusade ships headed toward the moon. There were some Bryn ships there, but the majority was ahead of the moon to intercept attempts such as that. Badar clenched his fist, the Jedi scum were so foolish as to think they could simply bypass the Bryn'adul fleet?
"Move us toward those ships. Just The Conquestor and two of our Ravagers. The rest need to remain here...."
The words had been said through his communication stone, and instantly the crew got to work. Within a minute the massive Conquestor began to shift, slowly turning toward the enemy ships and closing in. It would take a while before they could engage accurately, but already a few of the crusader ballistae began firing slow, precise shots. Surely a few would strike enemy ships, bypassing their shields as designed and causing minor damage. Of course it was no easy task at such a long distance and thus nothing was guaranteed.
(Liram Angellus
, Mig Gred
, Osam
)"Launch all 12 Phedrak fighter squadrons, they are to stay here with the main fleet and engage enemy fighters alongside Osam's forces."
Again with almost no delay the fighters launched from their tubes, the swarm moving as one toward the enemy fighters as ordered. They would likely all be destroyed in the battle, but they would take as many enemy fighters with them as possible, and hopefully it would allow the bigger ships of the Bryn to do their work.
The other ships would hold position until ordered otherwise. They were outnumbered, but they were not outgunned. Badar was confident they could hold until the cannon was constructed.
Post: 1
Objective: Shatter Tilrinn
Allies: The Bryn
Foes: Everyone else. Come get me.
Location: Upper City, not far from the financial center.
Sethrak looked ahead, observing the dead city before him. The only life was from the neon signs that flickered from time to time. Ahead a massive building towered over the others, rivalled only by the few buildings in it's immediate proximity. This was the financial center, a vital point on the planet and apparently one very important to The Jedi. The building had been heavily fortified, with snipers in every window, and hundreds of defenders from bottom to top.
Sethrak was going to conquer it.
Behind him was a small army, with two Rhivaks in the front, and hundreds of soldiers in formation behind them. Sethrak stood ahead of the horde, ready to give the order to charge. Leading the formation, just behind the Rhivaks, was The Elite Lothal Guard. Sethrak had trained them personally and they were yet to fail him. Yet again they would lead the way to a victory.
This battle was different. Tathra was gone, and with him, many of the leaders that normally made The Bryn'adul warmachine unstoppable. This fight was instead a coalition of warlords, all here to make The Jedi pay for their crimes. Among the warlords, Sethrak was the most distinguished and was the default leader. While warlords could handle themselves, Sethrak would give the orders that affected the whole opperation. If a retreat was needed, he would order it. If something happened that the others needed to know, it was now his job to handle it.
But the biggest burden for The First Warlock was replacing Tathra. He did not feel worthy, even for just a fragment of the duties Tathra once had. Not only could Tathra take on five foes at once...he could rally the troops like no other, and his ability to lead was no longer something that could be disputed. Sethrak did not see that in himself. Maybe he possessed it, but all he could think about was his failure at Nar Kreeta. How he had nearly killed Osam and Sylok with poison. How his Lothal Guard had been decimated, losing over half their ranks. No, he could not replace Tathra on the battlefield. But he was certainly going to try.
Lothal. Lothal was his sole planet now. The Jedi had taken Nar Kreeta from him on the day he had claimed it...that was a crime they would pay for. He clenched his right fist, grasping his Val-Shae spear with an iron grip. He raised his left arm, opening his hand, channeling his rage at the loss of Nar Kreeta and the disappearance of the Bryn'adul leadership, he shot a blast of red fire into the air. That was the signal. Behind him the small army charged forward with one goal: Destroy the financial center.
As the figure shifted and stretched, the clone got a bad feeling in his stomach. This was no humanoid. The amber eyes with no pupils said that enough. He stood there, stunned as her wings unfurled, this was no ordinary Bryn. What she or it was, it was clearly hostile, that was very clear.
As his thoughts tried to process the being in front of him, his voice recognition system recognized the warped voice as the Silver Knight Farrina Galland but it was clear that something terrible had happened to her. It felt like all the air had drained from around them as Omen tried to figure out what he was seeing. Too much apparently as the female monster's sharp claws scraped against the armor. The sceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech that could be heard echoed against the walls but the armor held up. This is what it had been built for, battling the invading monsters that came from outside the galaxy to kill them all. But it wasn’t going to hold forever, he needed a plan and fast.
Finally, he made a decision. The Clone stepped away from her second attack, creating distance between the two before shooting a grapple out of its arm, meant to ensnare and capture the Monster Jedi. If the high-strength cord managed to twist around her body and trap the Bryn, he would pull her in towards him and the ARC would nail her with a hard uppercut. If he wanted to capture her, he needed to knock her out now before other factors appeared, making it impossible to take her down in one piece.
Gordrak stood motionless in what could have been considered the heart of the weapons construction. Lesser Bryn'adul dutifully went about their tasks despite the chaos beginning to erupt outside. Godrak took in the contents of several monitors the best he could. The intake and sorting of all this data was mildly irritating to the Ultra if nothing else. He preferred being knee deep in bodies alongside the other Ultras over commanding from afar. Orders are orders at the end of the day. He turned to his right promptly and cut off any stray musings. He approached one of the monitors and nearly shoved the Bryn manning it aside. "Send a unit to deal with the vermin on that ridge. Have the undermanned unit nearby pull back and assist them." The Bryn who was originally sitting at the station, one of the newer races, obeyed without hesitation. Gordrak took up his original position and contacted several squads of Ultras. He commanded them to enter the fray and delay the enemy as much as possible. They were the veterans of countless battles and every one was a consummate professional. They were all the best of the best when it came to the juggernaut corps. Whatever time they could buy the construction crews would likely prove invaluable. Though Gordrak kept several squads back in reserve still, he knew he would likely still feel the departure of those chosen few.
At Gordraks insistence, the other forces defending the weapon had dug themselves in deep. Overlapping fields of fire had created effective kill zones alongside the deployment of improvised explosives. Gordrak wasn't one to care for traps but he knew they would prove effective regardless. Other units under different commands would inevitably go about defending the guns in their own, unique ways. However it got done, Gordrak merely hoped it would be done well. No one would find the Ultras or himself wanting if he had anything to say about it. He couldn't say anything about the others unfortunately. To that end, Gordrak looked his new set of armor over a final time. It was a gift honoring his past and hopefully continued service to the Bryn'Adul and their omnicidal ways. He scoffed internally at the thought. Loyalty was its own reward. Loyalty was all he had left after the vermin had stolen everything else from him. Loyalty to the Chieftain and, in his absence, the war-machine he had created.
Friend or foe...doesn't matter. I'll bury them all if that's what it takes. By his will.
He had peeled the bodies off him that he had been buried under on Sev Tok, once again he had seen everyone in his squad taken out, yet he had survived. The memory washed over again and again of digging himself out from under hundreds of Corpses. That world that battle was supposed to be his death sentence, his gave like it was for so many others. Yet the Albino some how manage to dig himself out that grave. Here he was once again embarking into his Third major battle with the Silver Jedi, however this time it was with out the will of the chieftain behind the Bryn'adul.
Udomek had his concerns, but he was nothing more then a young grunt his words held no weight. Still those concerns hung in his thought who were they with the Chieftain the one who gave his blood to all and shed his blood to for all in their wars. Were they even the Empire that had brought fear to the Galaxy anymore? The Albino one stood up from his seat and looked at the squad with him, a squad he now commanded. A squad that would probably die like his last to but they did it in the name of conquest for the chieftain……not anymore now they did it for themselves.
“Stand up you Maggots!” He grunted at them as he hefted up his Radesh lean it on his shoulder as his men stood up around him. “Our Job defend the weapon until it is ready. Also, the Jedi are diabolical fiends and no doubt brought their own weapons of mass destruction so keep on your guard.” It was funny where Udomek had earned a little respect for the Jedi when Caedyn Arenais show as sense of honor or weakness depending how one viewed it when he walked away from there fight when he could have finished off Udomek covering Kad
escape on Sarka. However the murder bots that seemed to show up in everyone of there fights started to scar and jade him with how many of his people they slaughtered and he saw nothing honorable in that twisting his view on Jedi. "Beware their weapons, now let's go get some glory."
he moved from the covering they had been huddled behind and and began to move towards where the front line of this moon battle would be. He was ready for a Jedi to come and get him and hoped to hell they wouldn't hide behind their machinations.
That was the difference between Ylato initially evacuating to then spaceport, then rushed back to his own shop for a forgotten credit dongle. Already, the Toydarian had wasted so much time trying to pack up what he could from his shop before finally abiding by the wails of the emergency sirens.
Just a difference of ten minutes meant that when he finally lifted off, his freighter met the first wave of incoming Bryn’adul ships breaking through the upper atmosphere. In his greed, he had chosen take precious time to pick his shop clean to ensure he maintained the good life as a merchant. Now it was likely he wasn’t going to be living at all.
The YT freighter had a pair of laser turrets manned by the crew, but they were no match for the sheer volume of attack craft bearing down on the ringworld. Ylato and the rest of the crew rattled in their seats as the rear of the ship’s shields were shredded, and part of its main sublight engines struck. There was a close call as a loose hydrospanner smashed into one of the monitors of the nav station, nearly clipping the terrified navigator’s head.
“Not good, boss!” The Klantoonian pilot called out. “Port engine out! Shields down – 60 seconds to recycle!”
“We don’t have 6 seconds!” Ylato screeched, wings fluttering in a panic. “Nyra what are you doing back there! Where’s the astrogation solution!”
“A-a little difficult now with a wrench in my screen,” the Twi’lek squeaked. “The airspace is too crowded...and without particle shields we would be jumping to our deaths anyway.”
“You’re all useless!” he fumed while mashing a button for the intercomm. “Mikel, Raigs, be some good lads and ACTUALLY HIT SOMETHING WITH THOSE LASERS!”
“We’re trying, there’s just so many and arrgh--” The cockpit rocked again from a new impact, more loose junk tossed around.
“Ventral turret out,” the pilot croaked. “Raigs he’s gone--I don’t think the hull will survive a jump.”
“New contacts, six o'clock!” Nyra belted.
Before, the Bryn ships had all been coming one way, which was already bad enough, but now they were being flanked as they slowly limped through space. It was too much to take even if the freighter was in top shape, but now it was barely holding together.
The tempo of Ylato’s fluttering increased, until his body strained against his restraints, while the rest of the man had seized up in complete overload.
This was it. He was about to lose everything. His fortune, crew, life, all over ten minutes. In that moment, nothing every meant so much to him that that tiny sliver of lost time.
There came a flashes across the viewports as emerald lances impacted incoming Bryn ships, the constructs disintegrating into balls white plasma fire. Moments later, blue delta shaped fighters streaked past the freighter.
“This is Azure Squadron of the Silver Jedi Starfighter Corps,” Jyoti called over an open commline. “We have you covered.”
It would take time for the rest of the Corps to arrive and link up with Admiral Reshmar and his forces. In the meantime, Azure squadron had already dropped into the fray, screening for stragglers who had yet to evacuate Circumtore while the larger fleet advanced against Bryn who were digging into one of the ringworld’s moons. It was fortunate that had already been in the air training when Early Warning systems triggered alarms.
This fight was no less hectic than the others, but as the Echani ducked and weaved between enemy fighters, she was filled with a rare sense of optimism. The Concord and its allies had held their ground at Sev Tok, while her planned offensive to retake Pabol Run had been met with success. Any fears about the victory about Yurb being a fluke had been allayed. With each battle, the coalition was getting better at handling the Bryn and now they knew they could take the fight to them.
Circumtore would remain standing today.
Summary of Actions:
-While waiting for personal fleet (1000m) to appear, Jyoti and Azure squadron help screen for outgoing civilian vessels escaping the planet.
(I'll post up my full fleet comp when they arrive on my next post, but currently I have 4 Saberhawks present.)
]It’s been a while, Morno. Haven’t seen you since T’surr. Hopefully, the Force has treated you well.
He had met the Jedi Knight in the past, stood with him. The man seemed to be in good spirits and ready to stand against the Bryn’adul which was a good thing. It was good to see that this galaxy was being good to those who deserved the chance to see it for all of its capabilities. There was more to life than the Force and hopefully, more would be able to see that, which is why they needed to stand against the Bryn now to give them that chance.
Of course, there are those who would stand with those who would simply watch the galaxy burn if it gave them an extra second of life to accomplish their own ends.
No matter how many times, or how long the big guy experiences the same thing over and over again, it still surprised Caltin to see just how many people thought him stupid. The streets were loaded with those who had yet to evacuate, so either they were still deciding, or they were there to fight. Of course, that was perfect for cover for anyone who would have nefarious desires or purposes. Take for instance the flashing intermittent light that was the end of either a bino, or a scope. That meant that the Jedi were being watched, but that could mean something else entirely. It could have meant that militias were preparing, but then why was he, Master Kiara Ayres, and others being watched?
Caltin had not located DDin Skirata
yet, but he had noticed a different feeling from those around him. Those who were there to defend were clearly more and more paranoid than they should be. No, the would-be Jedi Slayer was not the only Mando in the area to be certain. There were more than a few in those familiar designs in their armor, but overwhelmingly the majority of them were among those ready to fight.
It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like he was expecting to be beloved by all, in fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised at this point to get shot at by someone. The big guy had no time to dwell on the semantics of this as the Bryn’adul were landing and it was time to engage. Pulling his lightsaber, the big guy met each incoming blast with the power of a star and sent their ordinance back at them. He was holding the position as others returned fire, normally the big guy would be charging headlong into the fight by now, but he was learning who was on his side and who was not.
So if his instincts were right, not just the Force, whoever was searching him out was using stealth. If he was wrong? The massive Jedi Master would laugh about his own paranoia later, right now?
I’m going to draw their fire. Watch my back?
Telling them what he was going to do was also something the big guy was not normally known for. Normally he would just run in and let others respond, but this? This was to see if his instincts were right or not. Sure, he knew that the other Jedi would watch his back and also knew that most of the citizens would as well. The massive Jedi Master was looking for those who would not.
Konrad looked forward at where Valaar indicated the xenophage carrying gunship was shotdown. Two klicks ahead behind the ridge. Two klicks were long in the midst of battle, longer when the other belligerent side was composed of actual monsters. Casualty rate was going to be high, that was certain. He knew it, Valaar knew it, too.
Kaiser needed fodder. Ideally Silver lives to be spent but--
--Imperials would do just fine, the wicked smirk hidden behind the faceless helmet.
Sometimes you don't even need to lift a finger, sometimes the stars align and fate decrees--
--that Voidwalker is to pay the price.
Voidwalker's platoon pushed forth into the fray, shadowed by Kaiser before Kaiser began to roll out adrift further wide on the flanks. It was a classic maneuver - stack the center, loosen the flanks for an encirclement. A standard maneuver that did not require an extreme punctuation in timing, but did still require the flanks to do their job and hit the enemy from both sides.
Konrad's orders to fire remained unsaid. He let the clock tick down further and further as the casualties of Voidwalker began to ramp up without the much needed support of Kaiser's platoon on the flanks. He could've struck earlier, he could've absolved Voidwalker troopers from death but Harrsk refused. The less resistance he faced when he unraveled his plot to fire the weapon on everyone, the better.
"Fire." he finally called the command and his platoon unleashed fire upon both friend and foe in the center. They were all rookies. Friendly fire was their second name, everyone would understand. And his delay? Well, easy - they faced heavy Bryn'adul resistance on the way to their positions. That's what the reports would say, at least.
And paperwork was all that mattered to the higher-ups anyway.
)
