What're You Doing In My Swamp? | First Order Invasion of Galactic Alliance Held Dagobah Hex

[Veino Garn]

[member="Samka Derith"]​

Armor Amulet Occluder Handcannon​

Clearly, it had been a while since he had done much with telekinesis. Pushing at the girl herself had not been his intention, but the Force worked in mysterious ways. He took a deep breath, relishing the fact his armor was no longer squeezing into his side. Something exploded not far away, filling the air with hurrying Dark side energy. It slammed against the armored man and rippled off his armor, as the Force imbued duraplast warded off the main blow. But still, he swayed under the onslaught.

A nearby tree trunk shattered under the onslaught and Veino hurled himself out of the way of the crashing trunk. It thundered as it struck the ground and he could feel the vibrations beneath his body as it echoed through the ground beneath him.

He rolled over and scrabbled behind the closest tree and pressed himself close against the bark. At that moment, the other tree rose into the air hurtled towards where he had just been before it crashed into the undergrowth not far away. Branches and leaves fell from above, covering him with another cloak.

That gave him an idea. He kept himself close to the tree and scattered his presence to the world, letting his Force signature disperse into the Living Force that lay as thick upon Dagobah as whipped cream on a traditional dessert.

The saber deactivated in his hand, letting the area fall once more into gloom, as he slipped to where he could see around the edge. He could just barely make out the girl's form. He took a deep breath, stretching out with the Force, and gathering all the stones and branches that he could find.

There were a few dozen of them and he wound the Force between them all like a web, so that it was not many things that he was throwing, but one. The air was filled with sudden popping noises as they hurtled forward, as fast as some projectile weapons, all headed towards the girl.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"]
Enemies: [member="Sol Stazi"] | [member="Lyra Sunfell"] | [member="Kip Hollaran"]
Objective: Avenge.
NPC: Dergan Twigg
Equipment: FWMB-10 Repeating Rifle | G-11F Blaster Rifle | FO-2 Stormtrooper Armour | Lightsaber

​

Screams, blaster fire and explosions echoed through the swamp as the vengeful force rushed to assault their enemies. Armed with his personalised shield generator, Rexus lead the charge, followed by the hulking mass known as Dergan Twigg. Rexus threw caution to the wind, taking scarcely any cover behind the trees, Rexus and his avengers steadily pushed forward to the first line of Twilight Company combatants. Blaster fire illuminated the darkened swamp, meaning there was no real way to gauge distances.

Upon chance, Wenck stumbled upon a Sullustian, reloading. The poor soldier looked up to see a lightsaber ignite, his eyes shining bright yellow, before the Jedi weapon was pushed through his gullet, slicing through and cauterising a wound in the Sullustians lower stomach. It wouldn't kill the poor, soldier, although it would undoubtedly feel like it. And as he flailed, while hanging impaled. Wenck crouched, and lifted the Sullustian, using the smaller body, as a meat shield, as he pressed to the next group of fighters. Crossfire slammed into the Sullustian, who screamed, and wailed, begging his comrades to stop in his native tongue. Pleas to his colleagues to save him. Spare him. But as Wenck pressed the attack unto another pair of fighters, he sliced the lightsaber up, essentially cutting the Twilight Company soldier, in half. From lower back, to skull, and drenching the two soldiers who he'd come to engage in the blood and innards of their comrade. "Keep pushing!" Wenck growled, "Show 'em what we're made of!" He snarled, as he now attacked this fresh group.

Coming from the rear, Dergan Twigg barrelled through onto a squad of as of yet unmolested soldiers, expertly leaping over a thick tree root, and activating his FWMB-10 Repeater, and mowing down the enemy, before taking particular sadistic umbridge with one of the wounded attempting to crawl away, reaching for her blaster pistol. Fuelled by a simplistic, yet monstrous anger, Twigg hoisted the young trooper up, by her hair. While he may have had about the intellectual capacity of a baby rancor, his strength could match one, as he repeatedly now dragged her hair, picking her up, before enacting his vengeance. "This is for the 'ardies!" Twigg drawled.

With great strength, Dergan Twigg began slamming her head repeatedly against the tree trunk, smearing her face across it, as he pulled her of her feet by her hair. The impact of Twiggs swing, mixed with the coarseness of the bark, saw the Alliance's soldier's face become a hideous mess of skinless flesh. Blood, skin and flesh from her face now coated the trunk, trickling into the foot deep swamp water below. Even now, as Alliance soldiers concentrated fire onto him, Twigg continued, until the hideous crack of bone breaking. With about five rifles pointed as his back, firing Twigg stumbled backwards, tripping over the tree trunk and falling into the swampy water. Back searing from blasterfire, Twigg let out a blood curdling scream, "Rexus!"

Wenck had meanwhile been steadily engaging in a firefight with a group on the eastern flank, when he heard the blood curdling scream. The bloodlust, and rage he felt began to wear off. The palpable sense of action and adventure faded, as Rexus was torn back into this sick reality. His mind switched from killing machine to tactician. And what he saw wasn't good. Despite their gains. Despite their kills, the attempt hadn't done anything to alleviate the situation, rather it had caused more causalities. Stormtroopers of both persuasions fell, dead or wounded into the swamp. The still able bodied, struggling to push anywhere near as well as these two. Bravado, turned to fear. And fear, turned to panic. "Retreat!" Rexus barked, "Pull back, retreat!" He roared to the remaining troopers.

As the survivors began to make their way out of the jungle, Rexus rushed to Twigg's side, blasterfire absorbed by his shield generator. Wenck crouched behind the tree Twigg had met his match on, and he looked over his friend. Rexus' jaw clenched from behind the helm, as he looked at his friend. "You're gonna be ok Twigg." He whispered, "You're gonna be ok." Rexus repeated, more so for his own benefit than Twigg. Muddy gauntlets clenched onto his shield projector and slapped it onto Twiggs back, activating it. It wasn't at full operating capacity, but Rexus would sure as hell make sure ensure his friend would get out. He owed Twigg that much. It was a blood debt he owed, and he intended on paying it. Taking the larger mans FWMB-10, Wenck helped Twigg back up, and patted him on the back, "Run." Rexus commanded. Twigg turned, to face his superior. The stormtrooper sergeant could sense a look of worry upon his comrades face. "Just run!" Rexus growled, nudging him. Twigg looked briefly down at the ground, and then at Rexus, before pressing forward, and returning to the forward operating base.

Rexus hoisted the repeater to his hip, and kept the carbine in his other hand. This was a showdown. Wenck felt his heart racing, as he began to open fire at anything that moved within his line of sight. As he slowly retreated, he began taunting the Alliance. Not caring quite if he scored any kills, just doing what was necessary. Delaying. "Come on motherkarkers!" Rexus snarled at his unseen opponents, "Come, on and get some!" He hissed, as the rain intensified, "Come on and have a bit of me!" He glowered. Wenck met every movement in his peripheral vision with a blast of his weapons. Every hint of attack with a preemptive burst of fire. He was in an almost meditative position, as he retreated. Ready to wipe out each and everyone who would try to attack the surviving wounded.

"Not so brave now, when you're not attacking troopers on stretchers!" Rexus screamed into the darkness. His thoughts briefly flickered to TK-4577. Anger swelled inside of him, and his grip upon his weapons tightened. "Or when you don't have your fancy bombs!" He continued, his voice now cracking. Wenck felt like he was about to break down and cry. Like he was broken. However, raw energy, pulsed through his body. He thought of all the troopers who'd given so much. Lieutenant Scarl. The Podracer. That trooper, who'd been skewered by the fighter. Wenck's heart tightened and twisted inside his chest. Now was not the time for surrender. Not the time to give up. Not now. Not ever. He hoisted himself up, firing another burst at where he suspected another enemy was.

"Are ya now!?"

 

[Asharad Graush]

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DAGOBAH SWAMPS​

ALLIES NO ONE​

ENEMIES [member="Taheera Sollo"] ​

OBJECTIVE CRUSH. THE. JIDAI.​

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Graush rested on the ground, slumped.

Despite his form on the physical plane unmoving, mentally his mind was piecing itself back together. Not to use the Force, that was gone now. Probably permanently. He didn't know. Didn't need to be thought about now.

Reaching up to his helmet, Graush growled, almost as if he were an animal, the crimson orbs staring out at the Mirialan as the energy shield came back to life and concealed his features behind its protective layer. Normally transparent, there was a foggy attribute that hid his identity. Nothing of consequence, he doubted she'd remember much after using the last of her power for the Force Light.

I don't want your balance.

I don't want your weakness.

He reached up to his helmet, rocking back onto his hind legs as he slowly rose back to his feet.

Get me out of here, he thought to himself, while he depressed a button within his utility belt. His pilot would come, sooner, or later, or not at all. But by then, Graush would've stumbled off as he passed the fallen Jedi in the clearing, convinced she would die whether he was there or not, thanks to the poison in her system. A slow, torturous death he imagined. Better her than him.

He stopped, beside her, briefly as he reached down to collect the staff, slithering up along his arm as he whispered, "A beautiful sentiment, wanting me to see there's more in the Galaxy." He rasps out from behind the helmet. "I do plan to do that," his hand lowering, slowly to the lightsabre on his belt. But he stopped himself from grabbing it, fist clenching as bottom and upper row of teeth met, grinding on each other in frustration.

"And I can't wait to shatter the lives of those you've failed to protect," he said while he straightened up. "I wonder if you think your sacrifice will be worth it when you're dead."

But by then, he was gone, stumbling off into the once again darkened jungle swamps that surrounded them.

There was nothing that she could offer him, other than sacrificing her life for a philosophy, for an ideal, that literally opposed every fibre of his being. Peace, stability, balance, to want to protect? Notions that he knew little of. Destruction is what he sought. War was the reason he had been given life. There were worlds he wanted to see, certainly. But behind his once frozen gaze turned crimson. Graush only saw flames.

 

[LT-137]

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Sluis Sector // Dagobah // Fetid Swamps - Reportedly near Fort Nemo and the Darkside Cave.​

The Golden Company, Seventh Legion. Contractually bound to the First Order.​

Primary Objective: Search and Rescue. ​

Secondary Objective: Search and Destroy.​

Equipment: See Codex NPC Submission.​

Complement: Forty Sun Guards, and Two Phaethon-Class Assault Transports. (Total Number engaged in S&R Operations across Dagobah.)​

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Allies: The First Order, The Golden Company, [member="Therran Graush"].
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, The New Jedi Order, Etc, (Possible Interactions) [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Ever Dawnracer"], [member="Jak Sandrow"], [member="Tiland Kortun"], [member="Jyoti Nooran"], [member="Mishel Noren"].
Forces Used: Twenty Sun Guards (Half-Legion Strength, led by Centurion(s) Ghart. )

~ * ~ * ~​

From the hands of a Fallen Imperial Champion, an encrypted beacon was sent into the pulsating darkness. The signal was strong. Stronger than that of those Imperial transmissions that dotted the landscape nearby. It cut through the atmospheric distortion and allowed those in service to the First Order to see - that one of their own needed aid. With squads of heavily armed and armoured Stormtroopers embattled within the mist-shrouded heart of the swamp, none of the Order’s troops were on hand to act as this Champion’s salvation.

However, as they had been dispersed into the swamp as the engagement had begun, the Sun Guards of the Golden Company had found themselves nearby. Their gunship had alighted away from the surface of this misbegotten world, with it’s converted cargo hold rife with the bodies of recovered Imperial soldiers - the lesser Stormtroopers that served their cousins in the Galactic Empire. When their exterior module had received the signal, they were forced to navigate through the ever-twisting roots and brackish pools of scummy water, to reach their mist-shrouded Objective.

Some measure of time had passed, from when the beacon was first lit, and when the Golden Company had answered. However, when they had reached the vicinity - their relentless advance was halted, and their Golden armoured forms bore witness to the untold destruction that engulfed their target’s destination. Shattered and uprooted trees lay about them, torn from the very earth by the ethereal power of spite alone. It was, for lack of a better word, a complete mess.

Nevertheless, the twinned Cohort’s were ordered into the newly created clearing to search for this Fallen Champion.

Without complaint, or second thought, the contingent of Sun Guard - nearly twenty men strong - moved into the meadow with their gauss rifles raised, and their mobility shields humming rhythmically. They swept every shadow with the magnetically charged barrels, and the possible avenue(s) of attack thereafter, ensuring that their golden-cloaked kindred were covered and that nothing would take them unawares. As their armour’s sensors were unreliable, due in part to the teeming fauna and conflicting nature of the mist-shrouded quagmire, they trusted their well-trained eyes to divine any potential threats.

They weren’t fools. They knew, the very moment that they had set foot into this brackish dell that they were dealing with the possibility of encountering Jedi. No-one could cause such wanton destruction without leaving carbon scoring across every trunk, nor would’ve anything survived if an explosive was used. Many within the Golden Company felt their lips curl back into a cruel smile, as the thought of claiming a Jedi’s scalp and symbol thereafter had slipped through their mind’s. The First Order and even the Sith Empire would pay them handsomely for such trophies. Hell, they could also keep those trinkets for themselves, and make a mockery of the Jedi arts - swinging around some plasmatic sword and backflipping left and right.

It would be comical. At least until a mistake was made and that preening fool severed his own hand as he tried to adjust to the feather-like weight of the legendary weapon.

Now safely within the epicentre of the concussive blast that had formed the very clearing within the swamp, a Centurion by the name of Ghart had found the pulsating source of the beacon. It was by his feet, that a man - caked in his own blood and splattered with moist clumps of the earth beneath - lay unconscious. Just beyond the tip of his fingers, were a lightsaber and the beacon itself, both of which undoubtedly belonged to the Fallen Champion. The Sun Guard transmitted a whispered order across the encrypted channel that bound the former special forces operators together, fighting against the static that sought to deny him of his voice.

In ragged order, the twinned Cohort’s gathered around their fallen charge, taking up what defensive positions they could. They had recovered their target, and all that was left was to call in the extraction. With their gunship doubtlessly kicking out all of its passengers onto the deck of an orbiting Imperial vessel, it was only a matter of time until the Pilot had homed in on the beacon as he made his return trip towards the surface. Thus, the Sun Guard’s would hold the line, as they encircled the Fallen Champion. None would pass. None would deny the Golden Company of their prize.

Allies: The First Order, The Golden Company, [member="Rolf Amsel"], [member="Kayrce"], [member="The Major"] (Nearby).
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, The New Jedi Order, Etc, (Directly Engaging) [member="Tanaski Yumi"] (Possible Interactions) [member="Stephanie Swail"], [member="Asaraa Vaashe"], [member="Nuuc Lapt"].
Forces Used: Five Sun Guards (Cohort, led by Centurion Batiatus), Beric - Imperial Commando, One Phaethon Gunship.

~ * ~ * ~​

When the Gunship had made it’s fiery descent into the clearing, allowing the full complement of its weapons to stitch the treeline with plasmatic fury, the Sun Guard’s within felt themselves overtaken by a sense of eagerness. The enemy was just beyond their grasp, and while they were being paid for every soul and ident-tag they saved from the planet’s surface, it wasn’t enough to quench the thirst for blood that lingered behind their every thought. They wanted to kill. No, they needed to strangle the life from some poor soul to feel some sense of satisfaction from this forlorn vanguard and recovery mission. Especially their Centurion. Batiatus hungered for the glory, and the thrill of the kill more so than his brethren. He had been so close to claiming that Twi’lek Admiral’s head nearly a day before, and the shame of leaving something uncomplete chafed at his nerves, scraping them virtually raw.

Forcing a chain reaction of whining servos and magnetic rails by palming the access terminal mounted into the wall with a taloned hand, the blast shields that engulfed the deployment deck retracted into their housings - revealing the Golden Cohort within. Under the cover provided by their vessel as it made the descent into the clearing, every golden-clad soldier housed within stepped off the grated deck and plummeted down towards the surface below. Arresting their angelic descent with several flares of their armour’s integrated repulsors, the five Golden armoured warriors began taking command of the clearing. Their gauss rifles, clenched between taloned fingers, swept through the shadows - searching for hostile targets with every economic gesture.

As the Sun Guard’s went about their work with practiced ease, they were joined by another member of Inferno Squad - rounding out the odd numerical of newly arrived militant personnel - and adding considerable strength to the First Order’s unbalanced scale.

While the SpecForce operator, who had named himself Beric during their transit, had busied himself with rousing his commander from the brackish earth, another nameless Sun Guard had approached a wounded soldier, seeking to claw his way out of the area. Though it was uncertain why he had tried to conceal himself behind an overly large fern, the Sun Guard supposed was valid, but a highly improvised method of concealment - especially with quite the distraction looming overhead. The Mercenary’s armoured boots crunched the earth beneath his feet as he closed the gap between himself and the grievously wounded Imperial, bringing back the memories that were closely tied to the aftermath of various adhesive detonations all the while.

“I’m of the Golden Company,” The Sun Guard said, as his path had led him towards the broken commando. “And I’m here to rescue you.”

With all of his unit’s engaged, either with rescue operations or scouring the swamp for any threat that sought to deny them of their objective, Batiatus took a moment to revel in the rustic simplicity of the carnage that his gunship wrought. Within a matter of moments, the entire treeline that surrounded their point of descent would be reduced to ash, and so too would those that elected to remain th - his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the whisper-quiet sound of a blade slicing through the air. Though the Morellian couldn’t hear the sword as it soared through the air, it was when the forged edge impacted the particle casing of his mobility shield, which forced the Sun Guard into action. The sector wasn’t as clear as he had hoped it would be, as it seemed despite the relentless barrage of laserfire from above, the stocking-clad warrior had sought to take his life out of the equation - instead of saving his own.

What a surprise it must’ve been, to see the cortosis blade - knowledge that was unknown to the Centurion - skitter across the projected corona of the portable deflector shield, and sheath itself harmlessly into the swamp. He swore, as the barrier rippled, and dropped down to one knee with his gauss rifle caught behind his leg. It was an awkward position, but as the attack came from behind - there was little that he could do to bring around such a heavy weapon with a single hand. Instead, the Sun Guard elected to utilize one of the many weapon systems that adorned his armour.

In response to the carelessly discarded sword, the Mercenary tensed his, now, outstretched arm and fired a miniature concussion rocket at his would-be assassin. It was more than likely that this being would dodge his projected and sudden escalation in violence, but that mattered little in the end. There was always another system that he could employ, should the rocket not find it's target, and each one was more dangerous than the last.

 

[Luther Lewis]

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Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"], [member="Rexus Wenck"].
Enemies: [member="Lyra Sunfell"], [member="Sol Stazi"].
Location: Galactic Empire FOB - Interior.
Luther's Equipment:

Spoiler

• DE-39 "Deep Fryer" Model Maser Rifle.
• Medical Backpack.
• FO-02 Stormtrooper Armour. Tank-Trooper Variant embellished with medical symbol.

Vehicle Status:

Spoiler

Vehicle: LAVr FI-H8b 'Hussar' Command Speeder. Stripped sensor/targeting and command suites, retrofitting said areas for medical support.
Crew: Four members of the 11th Armoured Division.
Action: Enroute to Luther's positon.
Hull: 32%.
Mobility: 0% - Immobile.
Crew Health: Badly Injured.

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"Kark" he swore under his breath. "Feth, karking sithspit". He continued cursing as he slogged his way across the camp, in a half trot. The fatigue of the last couple of hours were getting to him, and he felt like if he lay down for just a moment he might just die. "Report" he almost shouted into his comms, growing ever increasing frustrated with the planet's interference. He was frustrated with the planet in general.

One his squad members finally responded. "About karking time" he replied. A sudden thought, incongruous with his situation, flashed into his mind. 'My Ma would hardly approve of all this swearing'. He suppressed a hysterical giggle and struggled with the idea that he had gone crazy. The stormtrooper gave his report. Hostiles were spotted over at Scar's position, as expected. What was unexpected is that they had somehow managed to flank them, probably while their patrol was engaged with the first group. 'How on earth did they manage to get around us in this swamp?' his thoughts twisted and confused. 'We barely found the base, after all, and we had intel'. Still swearing (he really did have a 'trashmouth' as his mother would have said) he diverted his course away from Scar's position and towards his squad's position.

Much to his ever-increasing despair, the alliance had hit the least defensible part of the base. What had once been a sturdy wall had been reduced to gravel by repeated mortar strikes. 'They are still firing' he thought, stomach churning, but they were hitting a different part of the base so he was safe from them. He was considerably less safe from the encroaching alliance troopers. The enemy had, from the element of surprise, managed to dig into a good position. Luther's troops, on the other hand, had panicked and were making a pathetic stand in the mud and grime. He became very aware of the lack of cover as a blaster bolt almost knocked his block off. He sprinted for the most whole cover, a half-collapsed walker. Therein lied the second problem, most of his troops were pinned behind here. In fact, he was surprised he had made it through the kill-zone as unaware as he was.

'This is bad, one grenade would take out most of us' he thought. Then, as if the statement had some cursed power, a grenade landed at his feet. He didn't hesitate, doing what every Sergeant he served under told him NOT to do. He kicked the grenade, sending it far away before it exploded. He released a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. The trooper next to him let out a shaky laugh.

The situation seemed impossible, but he had become adept at facing the impossible on his short stay on Dagobah. He looked up at their meagre cover. In truth, they were not crouched behind the walker proper, but rather one of its crumpled legs. The main chassis had collapsed into the trunk of a massive tree. The plant sagged under the weight, but somehow stayed upright. An idea came to his mind, the type that was usually reserved for the crazy or suicidal. "On my mark, we'll back up to that position" he shouted to the troops. He was pointing to an area of no-man's land, completely exposed. They look at him doubtfully, but he sensed their trust.

Next he approached a large trooper handling an E-Web turret. It was positioned poorly, put down quickly, in a panic. It didn't have a good line of sight for the Alliance, but it did for the target Luther was thinking of. "I'm assigning you a new target" he shouted over the din. The trooper nodded. "The tree, just there" he pointed to the massive vegetation holding the walker. "Shoot the base until it starts to topple, then get ready to run like hell". The trooper hesitated, then nodded again. He turned his blaster and opened fire.

It took longer than Luther expected, but it still took little time for the tree to collapse. The only warning was a large cracking sound, audible even over the blaster fire. He yelled at his men to run, but they were already moving. With a tremendous crash, the tree broke in its entirety and the large metal structure that was the walker smashed into the muddy ground. The stormtroopers looked shocked, then rushed forward eagerly to man the newly made cover. "Much better, we can hold this now" he said with a grin. "Let's hope it crushed some of those Alliance hutt-spawn". He rushed forward to join the others.

 

[Samka Derith]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Dagobah Bog[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Allies: The First Order[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Enemies: The Galactic Alliance - [member="Veino Garn"][/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Samka stood panting on the spot, taking a moment’s breath having forced her opponent into the undergrowth. A crooked smile resting on the girl’s face as her bloodlust built up. Droplets of rain began to sprinkle onto her face. Samka gave a quick glance up to the sky, storm clouds now crossing above them.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Sure another, another clap of thunder and the rain turned into a downpour. The ordinary Samka would have cursed her misfortune but in the heart of a battle, all her normal mundane thoughts were cast far to the back of her mind. Instead it made her giggle slightly. To Samka it was clear it was another strike from the planet itself, the Dark Side growing more and more bold. She would add her strength to the storm and let it tear asunder the fools who thought they could defend this world.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The Ren raised her arms and bathed in the Dark, the winds around her feet began to pick up. The gusts swirled around her and within moments a miniature tornado encircled her, the funnel extending up into the clouds above. The sticks and stones which peppered towards her were swept up in the gusts, being scoped up into the storm or blown harmlessly away from her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She’d lost track of where her opponent was now but it hardly mattered. Lightning began to strike down at the undergrowth, not aimed at anything in particular but causing violent electrical strikes through the bog water and birthing fire amongst the trees and dead wood.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“You can’t win here,” somehow her voice carried through all the noise, echoing terribly through the swamp in a way which barely resembled the usual voice of Samka Derith. Almost like she was now something else entirely.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I warned you. This is our domain and you’ll pay the price for encroaching on it.”[/SIZE]

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Samka Derith"]​

Armor Amulet Occluder Handcannon​

Veino leaned against a tree and caught his breath. Rain pattered against the leaves, quiet at first, but quickly turning into a downpour. It thundered against his armor and ran down the length of his cloak. He pulled up the hood and crept around to look around the side. Lightning flashed across the swamp and the red glow of flames meandered through the fog.

He hadn't seen anything like this since Kashyyyk. That had been a brutal battle, drowned in shadow and wood. This was no different. The winds continued to circle around the girl, stretching up into the clouds. She said something, but Veino couldn't quite make it out over the sound of rain against his helmet. But, as long as she was doing that, he was fine.

The man pressed himself close against the trees and shimmied through the undergrowth, crawling through brushes and shallow swamp-water that seeped into his armor. The cold brackish water chilled his skin beneath the armor, but he kept on until he circled around behind the woman. The wind and storm tugged at him as he get closer, but it also hid any sound that he might have been making.

He paused for a moment and let his mind drift into emptiness as he approached. His mind was elsewhere, on the mud that seeped between his fingers, and the branches that pulled and tore at the cloak, on the puddles beneath him and the rain above him. It kept his mind from dwelling on his purpose, so that if she detected him and sensed his thoughts, it would be of something other than his purpose.

His cloak rippled and waved, as much as he and the undergrowth allowed, as the gusts of wind tried to yank it way. The magnetic clasp held it in place. Once in position, he waited, lightsaber hilt in hand and barely breathing, until another flash of lightning caught a tree aflame. As thunder rolled forward, Veino lunged forward and activated the lightsaber at the same time. Its yellow blade surged forward, aimed for the girl's back.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

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Allies: [member="Varas Kyrel"] [member="Therran Graush"] [member="Rolf Amsel"] @Kayrce​

Enemies: [member="Stephanie Swail"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] [member="Ever Dawnracer"] [member="Tanaski Yumi"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Yuroic Xeraic"]​

Equipment: Armor of the Enforcer, Vader's Bane Lightsaber, Zark's Second Lightsaber, Gloria Blaster Pistol​

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https://youtu.be/aQ3poU70uIE​

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Kyrel kept his blade raised at the Jedi, feeling his rage increase ever more during the fight. The Jedi had dared to mock him, had dared to speak to him of his daughter as they both stood. To which he growled and, spoke through the metallic tone. "You know nothing Jedi, there is no other path... You dare speak of my daughter again and I will cut your tongue out." He said not wishing to waste any more words, his blade at the ready focused and ready to take on the man once more. He focused carefully on him, trying to read him, through his HUD he could read his physiology but whatever the man was thinking he didn't know.​

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In that moment as the man leaped with his interlocking his sabers, Kyrel felt a thought come to mind. 'Ataru... you fool.' He had recognized the style of training with Disciples in the Order, He read the strike clear as day. The man was attempting to strike for his neck, flying towards him, Kyrel had reacted quickly activating the lightsaber he had taken from Jedi Master Zark only 24 hours earlier. The green blade ignited as he crossed both the blades, meeting both sabers head on. His Jar'Kai skills being put to good use, as he drove him back attempting to push him back with both his sabers, the strength from the exo suit of his armor giving him strength, almost similar to when he was in a mechanical hell.​

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He was ready to strike once more and push at the enemy with both Lightsabers, until his danger senses came alive, as the moment he looked behind him, he was blasted by both light and a powerful telekinetic energy. He was sent flying meters away from his enemy, crashing into the swamp. His HUD was garbled, as the blast had damaged his systems, and all he could do was struggle to move. Reaching out to the Force he had sensed a powerful blast of energy Kyrel gritted his teeth. The Sith operative had unleashed a powerful blast of Force Energy, he could still sense him where he was he did not know. It seemed that hope was starting to dwindle. He started to clench the armored fists in rage. "No... The First Order is one. By Sieger's will, we shall not stop till his will is done." ​

​

He had said to himself standing up, staggering to his feet for a moment as he glared at the body of Varas, his sabers being pulled to him, reactivating the green and crimson blades, ready to make a stand against the Jedi and his enemies. Even sacrifice himself for Varas's survival, for now not even his power could help her. She was still weak, just like her mother... He thought as the dark side took over him.. She is worthless she should die. Although these were thoughts in his mind, another side told him that this was not true. But as he looked back at his Jedi foes, stepping forward. Whether they had lived or died, Imperial, both the Empire and the Order now stood together. Imperials one and all standing against their true enemy. Today there was no separate ideologies or nations, today they would stand as brothers and sisters in darkness to face their enemy. That was what they could only do.​

​

As Varas was lost to sleep, a voice called to her a whisper and for a brief moment, the voice spoke familiarly in it's calm and gentle tone like that aboard the Istkusk in its final moments. It called to her the same way it called to Kyrel. "Varas... These are your first steps." It had said before vanishing and perhaps, in the end, it was never there, and if one thought that it was. It was perhaps only an echo, a spark that has now shined the brightest amongst the darkness.​

 

[Nuuc Lapt]

Location: Dagobah swamps

Allies: Galactic Alliance [member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"] | @Asharaa Vaashe

Enemies: The Galactic Empire | The First Order | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"] | [member="Therran Graush"]

Direct combatants: [member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"] | @Asharaa Vaashe | [member="Kayrce"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"]


Nuuc had never regretted not completing his training more than he did now. His hold on the Imperial operator had been a weak one to begin with, but he had underestimated the will of the man. A blaster rose, however slowly, in his hand, aimed directly at Nuuc. He fought to keep his hold, but realized there wouldn't be any way to do so, not with that weapon's aim inching ever closer to his heart.

Time seemed to slow down as Nuuc released his grip, the familiar sight of a red bolt flying his way. With his lightsaber already ignited, he whipped it forward, an electric crackling sound ringing out as he struck it and sent it towards the source of blaster fire elsewhere around them. His own soldiers had begun to respond to the battle around them, firing back at the troops who exited the gunship that had appeared seemingly out of thin air.

He lost track of the Imperial trooper in the chaos of battle, leaving the man to three of his own that were in his immediate vicinity.

"Grenades!" he shouted to Osure over the loudness of blaster fire, pointing at the troops, of which there were only five, including one with what appeared to be a personal deflector shield.

As Osure relayed the command, Nuuc covered her back, separating the paired lightsabers by the hilt and igniting the second blade to better deflect more incoming fire. While his force powers needed work, he certainly had a strong control of his Shien, catching every single bolt at the edge of his lightsabers as the fifteen soldiers he had left after the initial assault began to fire back with their rifles dual 20mm grenade launchers, hopefully providing enough firepower to overcome whatever armor and shields their new attackers could bring to bear.

 

[The Major]

Hex M, 50 GSM \\ Dagobah
Upon Dagobah ground | Present Time | Out Flanking the Enemy
First Order Security Bureau Operations Task Force (What is left of them)
Allies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Kayrce"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] and The First Order
Directly Engaging: [member="Stephanie Swail"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | [member="Nuuc Lapt"]
Enemies: [member="Kip Hollaran"] | [member="Lokthra Dawning"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] and the Galactic Alliance

​

The clock chimes, advancing. Devastation rained down as a putrid mixture of ashen shavings and palty rain drops, causing the bog to reek in scents akin to moistened ashtrays toppled to spill their rancid juice upon those so unfortunate to fight on this watch. Death reigned. Failure abounds. Craft of Imperial design streaked through the storm in burning wrecks. Any check of the battlenet would show a ceaseless list of names or callsigns scrolling ever upwards —careless of the fact that each updated marker represented another passing rattle, another loss, another grevious wound that placed a trooper on Death’s Door or even sent a mighty warrior to pasture as their vitals spiked into critical levels. A bright light had flashed off in multiple places across the frontline, causing a number of surges or unnatural effects to plague the operation with even more issue. Being an aspect of neutrality and pragmatic to the heart as opposed to reliant on dark arts, the cleansing or cutting wave of dark-side disconnecting energy had little to report upon the enigmatic Major. Instead, the warm afterglow only somehow affected her spirit in such a way as to instigate a thirst to review those engaged in the battle on her own side in compassionate light. How were they? One might say this was the worst time to stop and consider the state of it all. Contacts were cut off and being isolated, and the Security Bureau Task Force was all but destroyed: remnants of personnel only capable of scattered reports or spotting while evading numerous enemy forces all along the sector continued to do so. This would be enough to send a typical person barreling into a woeful outlook; however, once the Ren or Sith Heavies started rapping involuntarily upon the door of the Nether themselves, either in mortal peril or simply fading out of consciousness, then things started to go from terrible to accursed. On the periphery of her clouded eyes all this data marched ever upward. The Fallanassi despaired.

The fight continued in the wake of the lecherous Jedi and their associates. Such hypocrisy cloaked in bloodthirst could only be answered with a superior mass of firepower. Hyper-charged tibanna gas bolts of bright blue continued to pump down the range from this flanking position. Where ever the insolent jedi or scum addled partners jumped to protect, they shifted their fire away from. Even as the Imperial Commando wailed and was felled, the hunters kept switching targets rather than fuss about the glow-stick waving warmongers. It was important to note the tactical significance of their position cutting down the more vulnerable alliance personnel in this direct field of fire: each of the three were spread out amongst the protection of various ancient trees with a handful of meters in spacing. They weren’t fools standing in the open or grouped in such a way that a single explosive could cancel them all. Behind solid cover the flankers exposed as little as possible while pouring it on in such a manner. Another aspect of their tactic was that they never sustained fire, thus extending the barrages without worrying a cooldown. Finally, the trio were staggering their fire so that their fireteam would not be caught swapping power packs all at once. These were, after all, experts in fighting. To treat them as meager regulars would be courting with disaster. Though emotions ran high and all seemed lost for the Imperials, they could still fight cohesively as they were exactly trained to do.

Blasts that were deflected back to the hunters simply collided with their cover, as it would most likely take a highly focused combatant to hone in on the Force to pull off such a feat in this pandiumoun. Add to this, a thermal imploder causing havoc to their direct rear, sending a selection of reinforcing Alliance troops wailing in a confusing, cascading wave of bubbling bass-warping tinged energy that was typical of these devices; along with the entrance of the mercenaries of the Golden Company, mighty men and women who straddled the field as though they were the very valkyries themselves; even First Order stormtroopers who had marched the from the FOB to exploit any breakthroughs in the line to take the caves —which they didn't know had been sabotaged by the enemy and in the confusion continued as ordered— now happened upon this particular slice of swamp from yet the far left flank of the Jedi detachment. Friend or Foe tags didn't warble or distort at these ranges. The squads didn't hesitate to add their enfilading fire to the mixture, spreading further out in an effort to make a circle between bursts, each covering one another as to extend their operational lifetime. Cloaked in terrycloth like cloaks of various muted greens or browns, they weren't as easy to spot with the naked eye. Their alliance counterparts, already in the swamp for too long and bloated with killing bucketheads in stark white, didn't adjust their eyes in the confusion for a split second. Time, ever progressing, was unkind to this tiny lapse. Wails for medics or the scream of bolt struck trooper filled the air in a din of violence that made speaking to anyone more than a meter away a waste of breath. This chaos pressed into the lightsiders all around —which so typified the inherent risks of fighting in swamp in the first place, and which made their incessant need to throw everything into every front they could open confusing. Flip a credit chit, and suddenly you were cut off at the disadvantage, surrounded. As though the situation in this microcosm of war couldn’t deteriorate more for the defenders, gunships painted with the Golden Company insignia were floating down to further provide yet another measure of nuisance. Offering a challenge, some of the boldest alliance affiliates attacked those piling out of the dropships.

Despite all of this, the light of course could resort to its usual trickery to persist and meet the challenges of the battle. With the Force Light shivering outwards like the shaking howls of a novice rancor in heat, it was highly likely the Jedi could somehow harness that self-delusional sense of well-being into unnatural techniques. Still, it was perhaps comforting to all the First Order aligned fighters murdering one another over this specific piece of mud that should any of these Jedi drop their guard too long, or leave themselves open, or otherwise focus too long to cast effects without protection, then they would be shot in the back or side in a style reminiscent of the good old glory days of Order 66. Though of course, nobody here could presumably quote such history yet still, sure as the clock chimed upon the hour, history was doomed to play out again and again indifferent to chosen shade or risen flag for such times had long since been forgotten.

Within the turmoil of her distraught mind the Major savored the bitter nepenthe which cocktailed fittingly with her loneliness. Something in the moment of all, on this cusp of overpowering the enemy, sung to her despicably on the onerous weight of her failures. With each shot she could feel the malicious sting of her mind retorting in staccato barks: this won’t fix that, that kill won’t really help, that shot won’t bring Emilia back.

Nothing ever could.

A Theme flows to her pressure.​

Was it assisted suicide? No, the surviving Station Chief did not seem to link her next set of actions to an inherent drive to self-mutilate or have her life ended. At least, she wasn’t consciously making such a choice. A rational at heart, the Major was not one prone to fleeting thoughts of a future. There was no future. She had no future. And, even if, by some twist of fate, by some merciful, unknown God of the Force -there was in fact a purgatory or heaven, a place in which her friend had traveled to rest in peace -even with such warm assurance that such a misunderstood bloom could achieve such bountiful security in soul, Sybil knew that she herself was not going to be invited to the same party. Wherever the Fallanassi belonged once she expired, she knew it was not going to be any nice or comfortable place. Hades, it didn’t feel like she belonged in this cantankerous, spinning universe. And the thought really did disturb her to her core. Maybe part of the answer revolved in a self-fulfilling prophecy, or perhaps it was more the chains of self-infatuation. After all, a lesson in the plights offered by narcissism was the hardest to make stick. Eventually the afflicted FOSB leader might learn to let go of crippling thoughts that produced nothing but spreading regrets. Tonight, in this rainstorm, pulled taut by things more powerful than the simple human mind, was not going to be night she learned the lesson.

Activating a flash grenade on her belt, cooking the device, and tossing it around the right edge of her tree, the Major awaited for the deafening sound to split the air in the clearing. In that very moment before the blast her body tensed as the borrowed G-11F rifle was stowed upon her back for possible later use. As the noisome tool of distraction fizzled away after its brief rally, the chrome plated woman bounded out from her tree’s left side; her long legs made short work of the bog and like a mantis sprinting, the Huntress careened into the enemy’s flank while brandishing a rather dirty looking pink parasol in her left hand —crossed over and held perpendicular to her face at arms length, this device appeared to serve as deterrent for any sudden violence directed upon the visor of her reflective helmet; meanwhile the right hand had produced an axe that shimmered beautifully in matching fashion to the armor from its previous place strapped upon her thigh.

A trio of alliance troopers responded in kind, jumping from their compromised position to close the gap with this doomed, final charge. They had one specific advantage in that the other two hunters could not engage with their leader disrupting a clear line of fire. However, as the enemy would soon learn it was not out of fear of stoking a friendly fire incident. The defenders opened fire valiantly, content to stop someone so arrogant as to wear a bright suit that it outright jarred with the sinister aura of the planet itself. Their shots connected upon the Major, their aim true. . .

. . . and they bounced right off. As if they were shooting harmless peas at a wall -their shots pinged and whined off of the ultrachrome in haphazard directions, making the most bizarre squeaks and squeals to perhaps bemoan their ears. The nearest trooper never stopped pulling the trigger, although he did reflexively take a step backwards as the Major dragged her weapon just behind her in a peel of shrieking metal while ducking down as though intending to tackle this first man. Sparks flew as the axe slit into slippery stone and in one fell swoop she sprung it upwards in a cut. As the songsteel cut out the man’s groin and bisected his stomach and face in an arch his blood sprayed the air. He screeched inhumanly as he fell back and continued to gush like sprung leak for but a glorious second. His partner tracked and aimed for the glowing monster’s face, but their range was too close, and it took just a second too long to aim properly as she used the momentum of the upwards slash to spin and bring her tool across the poor man’s neck. Rudely, his head flew free from the rest of his still standing corpse. Spinning the axe now with a twirl of the wrist, the Major jammed the spike into the final of the troopers standing between herself and her prey. It impaled the weathered trooper through his jugular, and ever the pragmatist, the Fallanassi used the leverage to drive him like a stuck bug towards the jedi themselves. Shoving the dying man with a shoulder bashing tackle, this threw his body sloppily towards the padawan. All the while, blaster bolts occasionally careened off of her sides harmlessly.

There was no time for quips. No need for wisecracking antics or romantic japes. The Jedi were in her crimson world now, and they, much like her, were without hope....

Like the ships that remained, nothing would withstand the pressure forever. The sensors were all thrown amiss as the wake of the Force Light caused the rainstorm to intensify to a mad roar of sudden lightning strikes. This hid the effects of the orbiting fleet’s bombardment, but one thing was for certain, the location where the FIV Tirade looked as though it was rife with explosions. The Hemwick could not be seen.

Spoiler: Fleet Status:

FOSB Operations Task Force:
FIV Tirade
Boneshatter Class Assault Frigate
Shields: 0/100
Hull: 2/100
Status: Disabled, on ground; unknown casualty rate

FIV Hemwick
Boneshatter Class Assault Frigate
Shields: 0/100
Hull: 10/100
Status: Last Stand

FIV Carousel
Boneshatter Class Assault Frigate
Shields: 0/100
Hull: 0/100
Status: Destroyed, all hands lost

FIPV Beat Siren
Kerunos System Patrol Vessel
Shields: 0/100
Hull: 0/100
Status: Destroyed, 93% of crew lost

FIPV Blackhole 3-3
Kerunos System Patrol Vessel
Shields: 0/100
Hull: 0/100
Status: Destroyed, all hands lost

 

[Stephanie Swail]

LOCATION: Swamps outside Fort Nemo, Dagobah
OBJECTIVE: Repel the First Order – hold the line
ALLIES: The Galactic Alliance and allies in vicinity - : [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | [member="Marl"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"] | [member="Nuuc Lapt"] | [member="Mishel Noren"]
ENEMIES: The First Order and allies in vicinity - : [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Kayrce"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="The Major"]

The foam sizzled and bubbled and disintegrated into the air. Stephanie grinned a little as he ankle could be free, but not without a shooting pain running up her leg as she had to twist and pull it from the hardened shell. Standing up, shield across her left arm and saber glowing in her right hand, the Padawan surveyed the murky scene before her and her allies.

The Silver Jedi were massing around the swamps and hopefully had provided the Alliance with more time to secure their fortifications and be their eyes out in the battlefront. Pockets of red, orange and blue colour seemed to burst through the mist in the distance, disorientating flashes of the battle seen through the trees of the planet.

And up above, hell began to reign down as a drop ship – or was it a gunship – started to assault their position. Without waiting she turned and leaped back to get space between her and the obvious attempt at breaking their stand to but the First Order troops more time.

"Pull back! Pull back into the trees – don’t give them targets!"

She killed her saber and fixed it to her belt and swiped the wrist-com to life and held it up.

"This is Stephanie Swail East of Fort Nemo. First Order gun-ships are ripping us apart down here. Any air-support in the area would be welcome!"

She hoped to reach the Alliance forces of [member="Coren Starchaser"] and the fighters [member="Cathul Thuku"] and [member="Kip Hollaran"] to help if they could. There was no way the ground forces could take on gun-ships in their limited vicinity and survive. Either the troopers were pulling out, or simply retreating to another area – this seemed like a desperate move to save their position on the planet. At least she hoped so.

And that trooper had evaded her still!

"Status report!” She called out into her com for the ground forces.

She couldn’t afford to see them split up and their unit broken and the troopers march right through.

 

[Roth Tillian]

[member="Stephanie Swail"] [member="Cathul Thuku"]​

[member="The Major"] [member="Khonsu Amon"]​

12 Dauntless X-Wings​

Theme​

---------------------------------------------------​

​

Enemy fighters had deployed from the task force as the Wild Knights sped into the atmosphere. Its murky cover exploded with lightning and laser fire as the Jedi pilots ducked and wove amidst the murky cloud. Sensors were useless up here. Visuals were nearly worthless. One could only catch glimpses of ships, both friend and foe, as they cut through the clouds. Roth rolled his craft out of the way of a blast of laser fire that dissipated into the swamp. He cut the thrusters and pulled the nose up into a stall as the bomber whistled past beneath him. With a grunt, he shoved the nose of the craft back down and pushed the throttle.

The fighter lunged forward again and his finger depressed on the trigger. Red laser fire stitched forward and caught the bomber in the engines. It burst into flames and crashed into the trees, vanishing amidst fog and steam. Roth didn't give it another glance.

But bombers were no good against X-wings and there were too few of them. In time, the First Order forces around the planet were hammered from orbit above, fire below, and fighters in the atmosphere.

"Knight Three to Knight One, ship's damaged. Engine down."

"Copy Knight Three, get to base. Knight Four, get them home."

"Copy, Knight Leader."

He could just make out a glimpse of two X-wings vanishing into the fog as they headed back to the nearest landing pad, either Fort Nemo or one of the repulsor-carriers.

This is Stephanie Swail East of Fort Nemo. First Order gun-ships are ripping us apart down here. Any air-support in the area would be welcome!"

Flashes of the Light could be felt in the swamp, near where he remembered the fort being, just as the message rippled through the comms.

Knights, on me.

Roth broadcast the thought to his squadron and the ten remaining fighters arced around, forming up in a wedge formation as they skimmed above the tree-line. The man leaned over and spoke into the comms.

"Read you, Swail. This is Knight Leader. Inbound to your position. Stay low and mark some targets for us. Coming in weapons free."

He nudged the throttle forward as they raced towards the location of where they sensed the most activity in the Force. Something flashed ahead of them.

A gunship, firing down below.

Weapons free.

The computer adjusted and locked onto the ship as the fighters spread out into a wider formation above the ship. All opened fire with their lasers, aiming to strike the top and engine nacelles of the vessel.

After a moment, they shot past it into the mist and began arcing around for another attack run.