Invasion Woken Furies | BotM Invasion of NIO held Nirauan

[Shai Maji]

NEW CARANNIA | NIRAUAN
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER | 501st LEGION
16th COMPANY | 1st PLATOON
50 TROOPS | 8 BASILISKS
ALLIES: NIO | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Alex Eldar | Sturit Goan | Willan Tal | DECEASED Erskine Barran |
ENEMIES: DA MAW | The Mongrel | Zachariel Steelblood | Alars Keto | Tor'r Tal'Verda
ENGAGING: Come at me bro
GEAR: In bio | Basilisk War Droid | Standard loadout

KOMBAT​

Shai waited anxiously for an order from Gowrie as the heat of battle picked up from outside the vehicle. They needed to get moving, a notion everyone seemed to share in the vehicle and she was sure outside the vehicle as well. But it wasn’t her call to make. Luckily their commanding officer seemed to live up to the reputation the Galidraani have made in their war against the Sith.

'Ah, chit.... My impatience is going to be the end o' me, I swear it.'

She couldn’t hold back her smile as she watched him. A smile that grew when he gave the order to roll out. She slid her helmet on and looked to Alex beside her. ”Send word to the troops, I’ll contact Overwatch.” She ordered before she opened her comms to the unit far removed from the fighting. ”Overwatch, this is Wardog. We’re rolling out, be ready to receive wounded and make sure the engineers are ready. If I want Howlers and ammo, I want them yesterday already.”

:: Copy tha’ commander. I’ll go break up the figh’ real quick… :: Arden’s voice answered back. She didn’t understand what he meant but at that point she was too afraid to ask. At least the column rolled out in short order… just not at the speed which Shai expected. Then again, they weren’t exactly a recon unit. Whoever decided to go against them would be in for a very bad day.

The corporal nodded his head as he received orders to roll out. Spinning a finger in the air, he looked to the rest of the men. ”Sixteens! Mount up and move out!” He roared as engines came to life around them.

Joining in with the symphony of destruction was the jetpacks of the Mandalorians as some took to the sky and others launched themselves over rooftops. The rest stuck to the roofs of vehicles or marched alongside them. Basilisks howled overhead as they moved ahead of the column to strafe any Maw they could find. As the column moved closer to the enemies along the flanks, the Mandalorians engaged with everything they had. Their job was to protect the column and they would do it at all costs.

Careful picking of targets, missiles, strafing runs, everything was thrown at the Mawites that dared to turn their attention to the Galidraani column.

Unfortunately it didn’t take long for things to get hot and heavy in a very literal sense for the vehicles and their protectors.

”Take cover!”

An IFV went up in flames as the concentrated fire grew too fierce. Gira Kryze was thrown from the vehicle as a missile impacted and set the machine on fire with the crew still inside. In her daze she rolled over and her T-visor met with the burning wreckage as the screams of the inhabitants rang in her ears.

Scrambling to her feet, she clambered back on and yanked the driver’s hatch open to haul him out. She grabbed hold of his arm and pulled up, but she merely fell backwards and off the vehicle as the man screamed from inside. On the ground again, she stared at her hands with wide eyes, struggling to comprehend the charred flesh that glued to her gloves. She yelped when a hand grabbed hold of her shoulder and yanked her to her feet. Staring back at her was one of her comrades, Morgan, his white helmet scorched black along his cheek and his visor cracked with some sort of impact. ”Get up, they’ll tear you apart out here!” he shouted at her as he dragged her behind the IFV for some cover.

Gira stared at her shaking hands even as he said something else to her. She only snapped out of her trance when his rifle fired away at the Maw forces firing at them from the south. ”Th-they…” She mumbled, but she didn’t get any further before he grabbed her shoulders. ”Hey! Look at me. Focus on me! Who did that?” He pointed to the vehicle behind her. ”The Maw…” She muttered. ”Exactly! And we need everyone on this if we don’t want more where that came from. What are we?”

”Sixteens?”

”Exactly. And what do we do?”

”We make the rules!” She slowly came back to her senses as he shouted alongside her. He pressed his rifle against her to take before he grabbed another off the ground nearby. ”Keep shooting. Not one step further for ‘em! Not one more tank to their tally! You keep shooting ‘til there’s nothing left of ‘em.” With a deep breath she wiped her hands off against her body glove and watched as he flew off, firing wildly at their enemies.

Another explosion drew her attention for the moment. ”Not one step further…” She muttered as a scowl formed and she gripped the rifle tightly. In her sights was one of them. He looked her age, and the mortified look on his face made her wonder for a fleeting moment, but it disappeared as she looked at the IFV next to her.

”Not one step further…” She growled as she took aim and fired.

Shai cringed under her helmet as artillery fell around them and small arms fire clattered against the tank. She wanted to be out there. She hated to just sit around while everyone else was fighting out there. She needed to be there with her men. Gowrie’s order to open fire was immediately complemented with the roaring of cannons.

Gowrie’s attention turned to the two Mandalorians as he brought them up to speed on his idea. ”Always, sir!” She answered quickly. He gave the order for the tanks to turn and she shifted in her seat with anticipation. ”Sir, with all due respect, I’d like to be out there with my men and my second in command by my side. Permission for us to join up with our unit?” She asked Gowrie as she glanced at Alex for a moment. ”They’re getting killed out there while we’re in here. That’s not how we roll, sir.” The tension and anxiety for action was clear in her voice, despite her attempt to keep a cool tone and be respectful to her superior.

It wasn’t right of her. And it wasn’t right of him to expect it from her. Up until now she was blind and heartless towards her soldiers. Her brothers and sisters in arms. They were Mandalorian just like her people, her family, back home. It was wrong of her to disregard their opinions up until this point. And now she was stuck in a tank along with her second in command, another recipient of her list of grave mistakes, while their people were getting torn apart outside.

She was not a failure. She would not fail her people again.

Her breathing picked up as her emotionless T-visor focused on Gowrie. ”We want to fight, sir.” She spoke coldly. She could only hope that he would let them go...

 

[Ignatius]

SECOND BROTHER
INQUISITOR
HAND OF THRAWN LIBRARY
107th "THE SPOOKS" LEGION
ALLIES:
| Lucien Dooku | Rurik Fel | Noel Strasza | Saaveina | Ragnar Bloodfist | Djorn Bline | Keilara Kala'myr | Khroraic |
ENEMIES:
| Darth Solipsis | Tegan Starfall | Kyrel Ren | Detritus Ren | Darth Mori |
DIRECT ENGAGEMENT:
| Zori Kapshan |
EQUIPMENT:
| CyberScales | Imperial Saber | Specter Knife | SFP-60x Pistol |

​

Conflict, was very real. It flashed to life like magnesium to a spark. Brightly burning with an intensity rarely rivaled by any other. The Elite Novatroopers were a force I was more than willing to rely upon. Dropping into the Library. I could hear it as I closed the distance and found myself bursting through the doors. The loud bashing may have been covered by the sounds of small arms fire, but I saw some movement well ahead of me. A smirk under the Jawed mask formed. My cybernetic eyes switching to Thermal to see a heat signature. Burning brightly against the dead, cold droids that fought. Throwing up something into the air, I sorted to deal with the individual first, before seeking to rid of the droids.

Droids could be demolished. People? Could be captured. If there was anything I wished to do more, was to grab a hold of this trespasser and show them how the Imperials deal with peasants such as them.

Nearing the end, I decided that the Library, while useful, already had all the information we needed in digital copies. As such, the choice to use the force, a tool of the Imperial Knights, and Inquisitors, would be most desirable in its application of taking the very bookshelves that the man ran past, as a weapon against him.

Both hands reached out. Yanking books, datapads, chairs, tables, anything not bolted down to the floor to be directed at him. I chuckled lightly as I ran after the man. Using various metal servos, and rybocarse muscular framing to attempt at a closing of distance between us.

I found it ironic that the man wanted something here, yet would find that they very thing he may have sought, was being used against him. There are many times in history, that a Warrior, a Conqueror would be felled in combat. The verbiage of "Live by the sword, die by the sword." was apt here. However, it was "Live by books, Die by the books."

 

[Vesta]

Woke Up A Rebel​

Location: Nirauan, Hand of Thrawn
Allies: Brotherhood of the Maw
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Rurik Fel | Bastard · Ragnar Bloodfist · Lucien Dooku · Waymar Geyer · Saaveina · Ignatius · Mogra'teksa · Khroraic
Equipment: Red Lightsaber
Objective: Retribution, First Step

To see the man who had become the symbol of that which she recognized as her oppressor laid low brought upon feelings that were unlike any other - she could have called it satisfaction, but here, now, she understood that she'd never be satisfied with just this. Desperation had rimmed his eyes as he began to come to terms with his fate, even if only for the briefest moments, but it still wasn't enough, it couldn't be. She had wanted more from this, expected more from him, something rigid, unwavering, not the quivering acceptance of frailty that she'd come to expect from the fickle nature of mere Jedi. Disappointment had begun to set in as she thrust her saber forwards when she noticed the spark.

It'd been too late to see, impossible to notice, even, before it had rekindled the embers of his will that she'd very nearly smothered in the ashes of his so-called fire, and for a moment she thought it might have been her undoing - that the man might've feigned defeat to strike at her while she was most vulnerable, in this moment where her confidence was greatest. Instead, as his lightsaber sprung back to life, she felt her expectations met as sparks fell from the shrieking collision the tip of her blade made against the length of his. This was more, this was what she had come to expect, to see the titanic mountain that was the New Imperial Order defy itself the chance to be silenced justly.

She could see, as much as feel, the building of pressure in the man's hand at his yearning of the force to do his bidding. His presence had been diminished before, as low as the stature of his subjects, but at the same moment his own had vanished with theirs a new flame had burst to life in its place as one. No longer was she facing a mere man who wore the mantle of an empire as his claim to strength, she was standing against the tide brought upon her by the sum total of him and all of his knights - order itself, it might have seemed. He, its hero, its bastion, and she the demon of disorder, of the unknown, that had come out from the darkness like a creature of the night, undesired and unlooked for.

"I AM THE EMPIRE. I AM RETRIBUTION. "

"I WILL SUFFER THE DARKNESS NO LONGER."​

If what he had believed had been true then all of this would have been the moment of meteoric rise, words that would have brought her down by virtue of them being spoken alone - as she had been wont to do when met with words that shattered her worldview - but there was nothing true about his righteous indignation. She felt her feet moving as she lifted her hand towards the path she predicted his own would carry his will to destroy her towards, her body carried backwards to place ample space between the two of them, but now, more than anything, she was that much closer to that satisfaction that had evaded her this entire time.

He, the symbol of this gluttonous empire, enforced a hierarchal order that willfully destroyed those who wouldn't bend to their iron-clad rules, rubbed the noses of the unfavorable into the dirt and doomed the forsaken to a life of toil and hardship. It stripped, as much as he, their freedoms to the confines of their framework, took from them their will to live a life that was passionate for anything except the empire they lived in. Even after reaching this apex of tyrannical domination it still hadn't been enough for them, it never could. They marginalized internally, created strife when there was none, because without an enemy they could not survive.

She felt the energy collide with her outstretched palm, the hand that had wrought the blade she had imbued its greatest gift into, and just as she would to the man that began his rapid move towards her, dominated its power and made it her own. The veins, arteries, and capillaries that ran along the arm that hand was affixed to were made varicose, pushed up against her skin, with the black, viscous, power that filled it as it made its way up to her shoulder and into her neck, ending as if they were roots that had branched off into the side of her face and chest. Her lightsaber lifted to parry his blade upwards as she directed the hand which contained the stolen power towards him, imbuing it with that of her own.

"I am the result of your retribution."​

The words left her lips dripping with contempt; she was a demon of his own making, the shadow his empire had cast down as it tried in vain to become the light which would blot out the darkness. He, his empire, had created her and the Maw out of his, and their, hubris - she was his punishment, and the Maw their's. Tendrils of black erupted from the open palm that snaked out towards him, to return itself to the man that had birthed it - just as she sought to break the order that had spawned her. This, then, she understood, would be the only means to satisfy her.

To mete out her own, dark, justice.

"And I will suffer you no longer."​

 

[Zori Kapshan]

​

LOCATION

Nirauan

Objective: Complete Espionage. Surveil Hand of Thrawn Library.

​

To different minds, the same world is heaven and hell.

​

Books began to fly off their shelves, makeshift holocrons, digital devices and artifacts of different degrees of technical prowess as the Scientist continued to sprint down the p-ways of the Library. He tripped, catching himself, pulling himself back up and continuing to sprint down the marbled floors. His miscolored eyes opened wide in fright as he began to see the company his actions invited through the empty shelves within the Library, an individual the Scientist recognized as clothed in the garb of the Imperials. This one looked specifically more of the Special Forces variety, not the usual boots on the ground Stormtroopers one would be used to seeing.

"Commander, we've got big trouble."

Zori turned a split, perpendicularly sprinting off into a mad dash away from his adversary as his grabbed the floor for leverage and his boots squeaked on the polished floors. "I mean BIG. We've drawn one the wizards' attention, and I don't mean from the Brotherhood." The Commander chimed back in, asking about the current location of the Radiant Theory. Zori declined to answer, rushing through the library.

He had lapped past the section that held their prize. Unaware if this was a trap laid specifically for Zori - unlikely, it was nearly impossible to know if Zori was working with the Brotherhood much less if he'd show up to a full planetary scale invasion for specifically this item. Impossible, Zori would postulate. It was way more likely that this Force User knew the Scientist Supreme knew Zori wished to head in that particular direction, simply by his pathing or possibly from some sort of guided telepathy. Either way, the flung projectiles and mayhem following Mr. Kapshan was specifically preventing him, or warding him, away from the objective he wished to achieve. This individual had Zori's number on lock - the Scientist needed a distraction.

The rolling metallic thunder of one of the Droidekas showed up just in time to provide exactly that, as blaster fire erupted from one of Kapshan's lone droids in the direction of Ignatius . Even as the enigmatic shadow pursued Zori, he would run to make a path past the Droideka and towards his anticipated end to the journey, just out of reach.



Ignatius

​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: City Streets near Hand of Thrawn Fortress
Enemies: Khroraic Imp Knights/NIO
Allies: BOTM/ Detritus Ren
Objective: 2
Equipment: Kyrel's Armor, Kyrel's Necrochasis, Vader's Bane Lightsaber

He could smell and almost taste the fear emerging from the dwarf as he was gripped by the neck. It was clear to the dwarf that Kyrel wasn't just some dark sider, not a normal one in any sense. Kyrel was a walking monster, and even his soulless eyes portrayed that as it seemed indifferent to hearing the warrior's statements about Kyrel not winning. Watching soon after as he sent him flying into a shop. The monster of a man slowly approaching the shop, as if to go inside and take the little man out. Smoke emerging from the ground whenever a drop of the unholy black fluid touched the ground.

Suddenly he stopped, as he heard a voice echo in the Force, and suddenly Kyrel was overcome with surprise. Something similar that he himself has done with the Knights of Ren. It didn't help matters that he recognized this as a joining of minds and strength through the Force. As he was about to act quickly in approaching the shop, and confronting the new Knight that he had almost destroyed, he heard the same booming voice of the Iron Master come from within the Dwarf, and almost mistook it for Rurik Fel's own metal distorted voice when in reality it was the man himself speaking through the Knights.

The actions of it all only caused him to stand before the broken window, as if not sure how to proceed. Was it fear that gripped him? He was not sure, Kyrel was not fearful so easily, so how come he hadn't marched in there and begun a bloody standoff with the man? He didn't know, his legs didn't go on to move, and Kyrel only stood watching as what came next was something truly surprising. The dwarf himself emerged with a rifle, at first the dead man had thought of it as a blaster of sorts which had only caused him to move slowly in a more menacing stride. Until his vision was blinded by a bullet go through the chest, going through the wound left by the light axe caused his body to violently jerk just for a moment.

Still Kyrel kept walking, albeit in a more brisk pace, and this time more bullets came cloaked in flashes of light. It all became clear that they weren't blaster bolts but that of bullets from a slugthrower, not even the kind that Kyrel can simply deflect from a lightsaber blade, and still he kept moving, as each one kept going through his armor, causing blotches of dark black fluid to come out with each impact it made up. He still kept walking in his stride as if a killer in one of those old holovids, as if the bullets didn't register to the walking corpse's own brain.

He was about to climb over the ledge of the broken window, as bullet after bullet kept going through the hulk of a man. More black fluid spraying all the same along with the shattering of his armor, until the walking corpse had seemed more of a mess, but the light fused bullets were causing more damage to his insides as they did so. His body covered in the dark fluid as it started to pour out more profusely as until finally one bullet finally sent the dark man crashing down to the floor, appearing as if the dwarf had finally brought the walking corpse to a heel and halted his advance any further.

 

[Darth Tennacus]

Engaging: Ragnar Bloodfist
​

Upon the initial contact of his lightsaber concluding against the zabrak's armour, Tennacus conjured the Force to propel his shape back a few feet to gain some distance. The Force changed drastically - suddenly - which stirred discomfort in the Sith Lord's trail of thought. While he didn't want to kill his opponent in the current moment, the intention to break him was ever present, yet such an accomplishment could not be reached before the time was right. The Sith wanted to learn exactly what power his enemy possessed; what limitation of power their order could ascend to in terms of the Force. Following neither the light nor the dark ultimately, Tennacus felt they walked a path that was indifferent, and he knew such a choice would limit one's potential. But then the Force changed the course of its tides, and the Sith was left wondering what else his opponent could conjure up.

There were no words immediately followed after the Zabrak's speech; Tennacus answered only in thought. His opponent was not reliant on his emotions to fuel his power; instead what Tennacus felt was an adoption of sudden restriction, compelling him to a false sense of clarity. Peace it a lie.


The zabrak's level of power was entering a stage of unknowing, so the Sith Lord composed himself, projecting a force shield ahead of himself to endure the dark legion of fissures which had been cast upon him.

​

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
TASK FORCE TRACHTA
1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD

THE OLD BOY
NIRAUAN
NEW CARANNIA
SAFFIA DISTRICT
​

"The war's ending...and we're stuck on karking Adumar..." The Commando trainee, Erik Staley pondered off with a blaster pistol clutched loosely in his hand as he sat on the rain drenched log of a collapsed tree, glancing the way of Grunge knelt down in a dogged attempt to rile a flame before them in preparation for the night to come. They were in the last stretch of their training, donning worn-down camoflauge fatigues armored with first gen once white recon trooper armor plates and simulation rifles. Just under 72 hours to go and they'd be Storm Commandos, but the final few thousand yards seemed as daunting as the first. They had a moment of respite here as night fall loomed, but with respite came lingering doubt.

"It's not ending so fast that we won't get a part of the action. Dantooine wasn't that long ago you know." He remarked of the Empire's bitter defeat which they'd heard about through holo news snippings in their isolation from the rest of the Galaxy within the rigorous, mentally and physically intensive training pipeline of the Storm Commandos.

"Don't even bring that up, had a cousin in the 173rd who died in Garang. Kark it, should've just enlisted in the Corps so I could be there when they plant the flag over Kaas City. Instead...playing in the mud here for two years." Grunge was nigh bewildered as to the fellow candidate's pessimism in these waning days of their pipeline. Soon they'd some of the best to ever go into the war, and here he was plagued in doubt.

"Probably dead like him, too. There's plenty of fighting left, that's what the instructors say at least. Remember why we went this route. Anyone can show up to a recruiting office, get shipped off with a shaved head and a clunky blaster in their hands...but not too many are willing to do what we're doing. Came here to be the best, remember that." Grunge replied as he managed to spark a flame to life.

"Yeah...I mean, let's face it, we're gonna die out there too, ya know. To be honest...I'm not even afraid of dying. I'm only afraid that I won't go down taking any of 'em with me." Staley replied, sheathing his utility knife before Grunge mustered a quick reply.

"I know what you mean..."​

There wasn't all too much to live for in Vrask, but there was plenty to die for. With her gone. He didn't look with fear into that long good night. He was ready for the end. The fears vindicated in Staley's instant, chaotic death in the crash minutes before vindicated his fears...but Grunge pay that sacrifice forward. He'd go down and he'd go down snatching enough souls to make it all worth it. To pay his toll into the warrior's heights awaiting him.

They were hardly generous in their violent approach of his position. Another axe swung down toward Grunge's head causing him to surge back and lose balance, falling unto his back with a pained groan before delivering a swift kick to the marauder's knee, sending him down all the same before Grunge could climb forward and physically dominate the Maw warrior. The man offered up a low, gutteral battlecry only for the Vandal Squad commando to thrust a dagger into his neck before bringing himself unto his feet once more with laboured breaths.

He looked forwards before a jolt of searing pain fired through his nervous system only to find equal reprise in the side of his back with a serrated dagger digging through the armorweave underlayer. He offered up his own gutteral groan of pain, but in that strained note he found himself invigorated with another surge of defiance in his being. He snapped around to tackle the Mawite responsible and slam him into the ground where he'd throw a string of several, heavy handed, crushgaunt punches into the man's face, all but caving it in with bruised flesh and shattered bone.

With a knife protruding from his flesh another marauder fired into his back with a burst of blaster rounds. The duraplast was enough to absorb a great deal of the shock and burn as he turned around, aiming his vambrace and firing a grappling cord around the man's neck before throwing his arm down and kneeing him in the face, incapacitating or very well killing him in one blow as the body plummeted to the ground.

As more and more climbed the gunship to bring him down, he could tell his time was nearing its end. The detonator stored in his webbing was always a snatch away, but he could only play his sacred toll with enough of them here. He'd go down fighting till the end and then cast the reaper's scythe through them all to take them as tribute into the hereafter.

<"Cmon...cmon."> He uttered through a voice of audible strain and suffering that still breathed with defiant rage as he closed the gap with another, catching the head of a vibro axe with his vambrace before plunging his dagger into the man's neck and throwing him from the overturned gunship. That lone tether unto mortality was waning with every breath.

But that fire still burned within.

THE EMPIRE
Sephi Karneh | Raus Garrat | Aridius 'TK-1575' | Aemilio Valaar | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Ortʹtʹo Mikla | Alex Eldar | Shai Maji | Keilara Kala'myr

BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
The Mongrel | SCAR | Khamul Kryze | @Zachariel Steelblood| Alars Keto
OPEN FOR OPPS​

 

[Keilara Kala'myr]

Ziare Dyarron
COMPNOR (ISB) Junior Agent, Nite agent​

Objective II: Hand of Thrawn
Location: Hand of Thrawn, Nirauana
Equipment: FS-18-UP2 Omega Phase Assault Rifle | 2x PV-16 "Sunfury" Pulse Pistol | Druetium Armour | Viper Mk. I Skinsuit | 2x Vibrodagger || Stealth field generator || OPBC-01m
Allies: Ragnar Bloodfist | Djorn Bline | Khroraic | Saaveina | Noel Strasza | Rurik Fel
Enemies: Tegan Starfall | Darth Solipsis | Kyrel Ren | Detritus Ren | Darth Mori | Lord Letifer | Zori Kapshan

[ Planet Hell ]
"Galactic Basic" | ~"Telepathic" communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

~ Come on MANIAC, what are you waiting for then? ~ I urged him nervously.

I expected not to have access to all the cameras as I didn’t have high rank or too much access. In any case, MANIAC logged in with my codes and requested the data, we will see what the result will be. This was true of cameras because standard maps were already in place. At least the ones that "anyone" can access. That suited me perfectly. It didn’t have to be one that indicated which room is which or where I could find the secret rooms.

I was interested in how I could get out of here; corridors, elevators, stairwells, possibly ventilation shafts and service tunnels. I didn’t want to spy on my own faction, just survive this day. And liberate the city and the planet. But he was still full of the undead out there. Come on, Ziare, be brave! After all, I want to be a special agent one day, and then I can't be afraid of some walking dead.

~ Highlight the pathway for me to reach the surface as soon as possible and the safest based on your current data! ~ I ordered him.

At that moment, the two counted entirely together. And a second or two later, I already got the calculated route. There were two of those. One was exactly the same one on which I came here earlier. The other one is twice as long and leads near the library. However, the longer one seemed safer, ironically.

Because that's the direction I came from… Well, the cameras were no longer operational. To tell you the truth, I wasn't surprised. The elevator, which had arrived earlier, started up and the other down. I knew the Maw people, I didn’t need confirmation of this. Nevertheless, I have received, and also that living persons are coming.

~ Eight people arrive by the turbolift, they are wearing heavy armour based on elevator weight data! ~ I got the answer.

And that really decided where I was going. I started to run in the opposite direction…

 

[Ragnar Bloodfist]

KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
IMPERIAL KNIGHT ARMOUR | Dual Lightsabres
Engaging: Darth Tennacus
Weapons of the Empire: Mogra'teksa Bastard Waymar Geyer Rurik Fel Saaveina Khroraic Ignatius Lucien Dooku

The vile force of the lightning leapt out of the Zabrak's palm with explosive applause. The violent sparks of ivory lightning matched the silvered gaze of the Knight Templar, tracking the Sith as he pulled away and continued to play on the defensive - even after claiming a successful strike through the bulwark that was the Knight's armour.

The Sith still ran.

If this is what the Sith had come to in the shadows of the Unknown Regions, Ragnar was glad he had been captured all those years ago.

The Sight took him, expanding past the purview of their proximity. Already through the meld he could see other Knights fighting, through their own eyes. Cutting, slashing, the bodies of enemies falling beneath their combined might. All the while he saw before him, the Sith and his rather passive existence.

As the hastily made shield raised to protect the Sith from the destructive tendrils of electric fury, Ragnar stepped forwards, continuing the remorseless stream of energy as he watched friends and foe die through the Sight and his brethren. The forks tried to arc past the translucent barrier in attempts at wrapping around it and electrocuting him. He doubted it'd work, but it continued to hold him at bay for now, as Judgement manifested in him. Imbued by so many, feeling their senses while tethered through the ethereal, while also feeling his own stimulated by his mortal shell, the once Sith turned his focus back to the invader in front of him.

"The Empire has set me free," Ragnar uttered. The Sith Code re-tasked mockingly in that moment.

The intangible essence of the Force was reoriented to enhance his physical frame. From his singular spot, his body practically shook from the power, as if on the cusp of vibrating out of his very soles. He sprung outwards, sure of purpose, sure that the Sith would continue to assail the borders of their Order. Sure that the Empire would withstand their attacks and destroy their foe. Sure that this Sith would continue to retreat until a ship arrived to escape.

The stream of lightning ended, the resplendent blade sprung out from the top of the saberstaff swinging around his body. Ragnar exploded forwards as the last branch of burning fury that left his palm. Snapping past the Sith's barrier, he across the arm of the Sith - on the opposite side of his saber hand - while simultaneously the back end of his saberstaff re-ignited. Pivoting, Ragnar spun about, the back end slashing across the Sith's back, from as low as the calves, up to the rotator cuffs that allowed his shoulder to move.

 

[Ortʹtʹo Mikla]

R E T U R N T O T H E Z O N E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
REC-DC/02 Particle Blaster Carbine | RD-4 Radiation Launcher | Radiation Zone Assault Trooper Armor

---

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Nukth Kelga'an | Knight | Mogra'teksa

Hostiles: The Mongrel | Halketh | SCAR | Maestus | Khamul Kryze | Zachariel Steelblood

ENGAGING MAW ARTILERY EMPLACEMENT​

Ortʹtʹo was quick to take his new command. There was no fanfare as the sergeant chevrons were pinned, unceremoniously, to the chest of his radtrooper armor. There was no blaring of trumpets and grand banquet hall that awaited him when he had returned from the hellscape of the battlefield and gave his debrief. There was to be no respite for soldiers like him in the face of the Maw. There would be no rest for the Galaxy while the Sith still drew breath. There were only people like him, all of the gathered armed forces of the New Imperial Order, every last army trooper, stormtrooper, all of the Imperial Knights, contracted mercs and hunters, each and every last one of them to stand against the growing tide of darkness. Time, and time, and time again they had put the blade, the blaster, and the slug to the head of the shit, they had fallen the dragon over and over and over again.

Mikla was saved by those brave fighting men, he was pulled from the rubble of his desolate world after a nuclear armageddon had devastated everything that he knew. He spent months in their hospitals, he spent months on their training grounds, and in the dwindling pages of the New Imperial War of Reclamation, he spent months in service to the New Imperial Order. He had been on the lines of infantry besieging the last holdouts of the Sith-Imperial Forces, he had been the boot on the door, forcing the surrender of cult cells throughout the Tingel Arm.

He had been the sword of last resort used by the New Imperial Order again and again.

His armor itself was a signification of the desperate, crying-at-the-dying-sun, defense of the New Imperial Order. He was not meant to have seen as much combat as he did. He was meant to be on the Braxant Worlds, helping to rebuild communities and dealing with the rad-spawn and other nightmares born of the fission weaponry loosed upon the Galaxy by the Sith Empire. That was not what he was allowed to do. Instead, Ba’al Squad was pushed into front line service. The sight of his armor on the battlefield was the ultimate declaration.

Even the peacekeepers, who laid the foundation of the new world, would stand against this New Sith.

He wasted no time with a salute and a nod, no waste with being dismissed. Boots were clanging down the stairway, the bacta patch working wonders for the sheared through exoskeleton, numbing the pain away. Though, he would have to get it properly checked when he was given a proper moment. He cycled through his weaponry as he went. Pulling his carbine in front of him, popping out the energy cell, slamming a new one home, and listening to the gentle purr of the weapon. Next was the RD-4 Launcher. He brought the tube-like fraglauncher in front of him as he turned the corner on a set of stairs. He snapped open the breakaction tube and fed inside of it a radiation grenade. Snapping it shut, a light on the side of the weapon hummed with a gentle green glow. Alerting any passing by of the devastating property that the weapon possesed.

Then the artillery rounds began to strike.

Lights hanging from above began to shake like they were possessed. Dust began to fall from every last crack that the building had to offer. Storming by soldiers stumbled and grabbed at helmets and held weaponry close as their footing was dared to be misplaced.

Ortʹtʹo knew what he had to do.

---

The 614-AvA Speeder Bike was, honestly, a piece of long forgotten history by this point. But, along with all of the stores of the Old Pentastar Alignment, various New Imperial Pseudo-states, and the Sith-Imperial Remnant museums, any vehicle, weapon, or tool worth it’s use was being pressganged into service. Thus, speederbikes such as the Lothal were being used just as commonly as newer models. The radtrooper settled into the seat, getting a feel about the controls. He let his hands wrap around the handles, feeling the bike jump into the air with the slightest push of them, the hover-engine roaring underneath him as he slowly turned to leave the garage the speeder was left in.

Minutes later, he was blitzing his way through the city streets. The blaster cannon mounted at the front of the vehicle screamed, over and over and over as he went. Sending large bolts of plasma into the chests and legs of the swarm of bodies that seemed to be engulfing the city. Those that didn’t move out of the way or were dropped by the speeder simply were ran over.

Two more blocks till he reached the artillery encampment…

Two more blocks...

 

[Alric Árheim]

F I R E S - F A D E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
BARON OF SÓLRIKE
Durasteel Full Plate [x] | Mandalorian Iron War Hammer [x] |
Eikthyrnir the Kybuck

~ "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the Great City fall. Nor our people fail." ~

Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Dante Corvus | Darth Imperius | Julian Qar

Foes: The Mongrel | Zachariel Steelblood | Alars Keto | SCAR | Maestus | Halketh | Khamul Kryze

DEFENDING THE CORE OF FORT IMPERIUM
Forty Blocks x4 of Men-At-Arms
Five Groups x4 of Royal Knights

---
​

Alric couldn’t help but let himself smile. It was a wide, heavy, ear to ear grin. The thought that this commander was more than ready to lay down his life for his men, his people, his nation? Despite the obvious tactical advantage that he provided to the New Imperial Order by simply breathing? It was something that one could take a large amount of inspiration from. It was certainly something that Alric was determined to take to heart. He had a lot to learn from Barran, he understood that. He opened his eyes further into the psychology of the New Imperial Order, it’s people, and how they fight their wars.

There was simply one thing that Alric was missing from the entire equation.

First hand exposure.

“If this is to be a last stand, Erskine. I would like to go give my men one last speech, before we go raging into that Final Dawn. Just like you, don’t think I am one to miss out on a valiant last stand. I wonder if they’ll compose the ballad in a traditionally Hunalandic way, or something a bit more… cosmopolitan.” Alric chuckled to himself

A minute or two later, Alric was on the outskirts of the internal courtyard, his fullplate helm brought onto his head and the visor brought low. He was riding in front of the rows of soldiers that were gathered, here, at the true last line of defense that the New Imperial Order was offering up to the galaxy. It was the weak, the beaten, it was the weary and the desperate. It was the last of the New Imperial Order’s reserves on the world. They had provided their last resources of bodies they could manage. They would be standing alone, if it wasn’t for the generous donation of men-at-arms, spearmen, and knights from the realm of Sólrike to this last-stand.

They were as resilient as the day.

The men-at-arms, nothing more than farmers, smiths, men and women taken from their homes to serve a higher purpose. Many of them had little in the way of armor besides padded cloth, many of them wore simple durasteel skullcaps. Swords, and the smithing techniques to make them, were all too expensive to arm these many warriors with them. Thus, they were composed of sets of spearmen, axe wielders, and the occasional mace. Depending on where they stood within the columns arranged on the outer sections of the courtyard. They occupied the spaces not far from the entranceways, for when the Maw would breach this chamber, they would be the first that they would see. Each of them carried their durasteel shields with pride.

The might of the ages, the warriors of Sólrike, the last cry of defiance.

The Galaxy Would Not Burn.

Each block of men, arranged at the north, east, south, and west entrances, numbered at nearly forty men. Each of these were backed by contingents of five kybuck mounted knights. These servants of the realm were armored in durasteel fullplate, lightly reinforced with whatever beskar they could trade for. Enough to earn them at least another second in a fight with a lightsaber wielder. Many of them carried great or bastard swords. Long enough to fight from buck-back with, but also able to be carried on foot should their steeds fall.

Alric, rode between each of these groups as he spoke.

“My countrymen, my kinsmen! Listen and hear your baron! I do not know of what monsters will come from the gates, I do not know what we will see when the walls come tumbling down, and I cannot promise that we will see the morning’s light again. But I ask you, I ask each and every last one of you, as the face of Irmenu, as the face of the Barony, I plead with you.

Stand with me!

For this last night, fight like the dragons of our home! Fight like the last cry of your family’s pride! Fight like you mean to make the Gods proud!

I ask of you, as my one command, to stand with me! Through the horror, through the bloodshed, for when those walls come down, demons will pour in. They wish to end us, feast on us, decimate and brutalize us. They will not succeed. For as long as you die standing, melee in hand, hand over heart, they will never kill the spirit of our homeland!

They will sing songs of this day, kinsmen. Let us make it one worth singing.”

 

[Khroraic]

B O I C B R A V E S O U L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KNIGHT OF THE EMPIRE
Engaging: Kyrel Ren
Opposing: Detritus Ren
Allies: Saaveina | Ragnar Bloodfist | Djorn Bline | Keilara Kala'myr | Mogra'teksa
Imperial Knight Battle Armor | Contained Energy Axe | Tof Soren Slugthrower Pistol

---

​

Khroraic kept the pistol leveled on Kyrel the entire time he walked to the Dwarrow. Round after round tore through the monster born of the Force as it began to bear down on Khroraic. He showed no fear, no worry, nothing but the calm tranquility of the Knights of the Empire, each heartbeat coming as one as he clacked off rounds through Kyrel’s chest. Emptying the entire mag into the beast as he came clambering through the window after Khroraic. The Dwarrow breathed, gently. He was at peace with the entire universe. The only threat the Kyrel had managed to hold over the Dwarrow’s head was that he was alone. That Khroraic was being made to face down the demon on his own feet, without the backing of his fellow Knights. The threat that Kyrel was, this menacing, larger than life abomination was shattered the moment that the voice of the Emperor boomed through Khroraic. A final round snapped through the slasher-villian’s chest and he stumbled and fell through the shattered window and onto the floor in front of Khroraic.

He blinked.

For a second, he didn’t believe that Kyrel had actually fallen, that he had actually managed to kill the monster. That a simple slugthrower, some faith, and the Force was all that was needed to bring him down.

He loaded in a new magazine, aimed at the body with one hand as his other reached out with the Force. Pulling the Lightaxe tumbling through the rubble and destruction that the monster had earned in his wake. Snapping it back into the grip of the Dwarrow.

He fired twice more into the back of Kyrel before holstering the firearm.

He took his lightaxe into both hands, ignited the blade, let hover on the back on Kyrel’s neck.

He raised it high, and went to bring it down execution style.

 

[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

FIFTH POST
THE_WOAD
IMPAF-COMMAND

OBJECTIVE 1: GROUND ZERO

Alric Árheim Ortʹtʹo Mikla Dante Corvus Darth Imperius

Aemilio Valaar Konrad Harrsk Aridius 'TK-1575'

Kolson Vrask Sephi Karneh

Willan Tal DECEASED Aron Gowrie Inarin Lsu Shai Maji Alex Eldar Sturit Goan

Nukth Kelga'an Knight Mogra'teksa

BOTM: The Mongrel Zachariel Steelblood Alars Keto Tor'r Tal'Verda
Maestus Halketh Khamul Kryze

ERSKINE'S LOADOUT
FRAGARACH MODEL DISRUPTOR PISTOL
BASKET-HILTED VIBROSWORD CLAYMORE

HOLDING THE LINE - NEW ROLE, NEW STRATAGEMS: PART 8

Spoiler

Saffia District
The Hand of Thrawn's western far-boundaries
The Myrmidon Quarter
Fort Imperium
The Spaceport outskirts
Pellaeon District
Fiyarro District
Thrawn District
Outer northern suburban districts

FORT IMPERIUM, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (868 ABY)

+02:49:11 HOURS INTO MAWSWORN ASSAULT....

<"Frayne to Lance One! North and South sectors covered, escape-exits allocated for each and every barricade-segment. We're ready.">

<"Copy that, Frayne. Good luck, an' fight well for the sake o' your subordinates. Lance One out!">​

Staring out into the fog of war to the east, consisting entirely of the dusty residues created by their enemies' successful bombardments before, it seemed as if Hell itself was about to spew the worst nightmares at the surviving Myrmidons, spearmen-levies of Lord Alric, the solitary Agema guardsman and Lord Erskine's troopers from IMPAF-Command. However, all the defenders who chose to sally out to the new defensive static-line had shown, in their uncoerced choice to march out from Fort Imperator with him, Lord Erskine had correctly gotten the measure of his subordinates; assuming them to be the bravest, and most-aggressive warriors of those who'd held the Myrmidon Quarter with ease before the breach, and rightly trusting in their mettle to fight until the fated fall-back orders had been issued. In terms of holding the square stretch of hallowed ground, victory or defeat would become of this fight at the Mongrel's breach, and though everyone was anxiously aware of this face, a fair portion of the frontline defenders would take heart from this revelation regardless.

<"Gorman to Lance One! Down to our last carbonite-cooled barrage, still want it all aimed at the threat to the south-west?">

<"Barran to Lance Four! If I can still hear them struggling all the way over here, its safe to say we shouldn't be satisfied until there's nothing left. You know what to do.">

<"Copy that, sir. Lance Four Out!">​

To many there, this would be the end of the line, and with muttered prayers, apologies to families and friends, goodbyes to the Galaxy and all the rest of it, the existential brace for the end was well and truly present for the Lord-General, his staffers and all the other commanders covering the eastern breach to see. Lord Erskine would even see one of Lord Alric's Spearman-Sergeants leading a kneeling mass at the center of the defensive static-line, urging his accompanying Agema Guardsman to join him in kneeling for prayer and sermon. After witnessing Barran's decision to kneel like it was some sort of dream, some IMPAF troopers would also find themselves compelled to kneel before the plate-armoured priest's sermon, and within moments, the Spearman-Sergeant himself was stopped in his oratory, eventually seeing this silent display of adherence to faith at the back for himself.

'Ah, for what is Faith without it's strongest Repentants after all? Welcome, brothers.... Be they troopers wielding death-rays, giants of great prowess - or even Generals of legendary armies, all are seen to kneel before the grace, THE POWER, AND THE GLORY OF GOD EVENTUALLY!!!! FOR EVEN THE FAITHLESS FIND HIS HEAVENLY LIGHT IN THE FACE OF CERTAIN DEATH, LIKE I ONCE WAS IN THE PAST - LIKE I HAVE IN MY TIME AS A SOLDIER SINCE!!!!'

The attacking Mawites in the distance could be heard excitedly firing their blaster-rifles and disruptor-pistols in the air by that point, getting louder with every waking second that they used to approach their well-earned breach, and still, everyone continued with no urge to deviate or cut the sermon short for the sake of the attackers. Even as the remaining Mawite artillery-pieces were thudding with life in the distance, flashing into the dark night sky like red-light strobes were flickering in the distance sporadically, the Spearman-Sergeant stood with his back straight, with holy book held high above his head, pointing to the Heavens as he inhaled to finish in a godly fashion. Whatever was to become of their stand, Barran could fight on knowing that those who stood to hold off the assault would be giving it their all, hurling every ounce of their aggression at the nightmare that beset them as all defensive efforts should be; a dogged determination of which that would lend courage to the armoured priest, quite close to questioning his own faith just minutes before House Fortan's bombardment granted them breathing-space, but showing clear reaffirmation when he saw the Lord-General kneeling to pray.

'And so it brings me great comfort knowing the man who leads us here today is a god-fearing man, one who kneels before divinity as all the others around me have today. Without such a sign, I fear my words would have fallen upon ears that may have deafened themselves to encouragement, to reason.... A SIGN OF HEAVENLY FAVOUR I'M SURE - STEEL TO THE ARMS OF THOSE WHO FIGHT IN THE NAME OF GOD AND CIVILISATION ALIKE!!!!'

Bowing his head, the Spearman-Sergeant then kissed the leather-bound cover of his holy book, continuing to reaffirm his faith as he concluded,'Under Heaven, grace is sought, yet only faith attains it. Faith be in God's name, and may his light forever guide us. Amen.', momentarily kneeling as all the others were before rising with the flock to face the approaching menace. Then, from their risen stances stood a congregation of savage determination, sprinting off in several directions to their stations, to what would either become the site of their triumph, or the site of the cenotaph to Strikegroup: ARCHAIS' forlorn defence of the Myrmidon Quarter. Every step a homage, every inhalation an ode to faith in the face of seemingly-insurmountable odds, and just being there to see it seemed to have a profound effect on the Woad and his Vandemarian shadow; and, though the Agema guardsman certainly felt it more intensely than the experienced Lord-General next to him, there was no doubt in the hulking giant's mind that his shorter acquaintance was still quite awestruck by it, as not a single ragged or raucous cheer would be needed to set themselves to the grim task ahead.

Nothing but solemn, singular variations of,"Amen".

'Good.... Every man who knelt around us, as you'll know soon enough, will die well if required. But as for you - I want you to survive, Stilicho. If everything goes to chit here, we'll need someone to survive an' tell the tale.'

HOLDING THE LINE - NEW ROLE, NEW STRATAGEMS: PART 9

FORT IMPERIUM, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (868 ABY)

+03:01:10 HOURS INTO MAWSWORN ASSAULT....

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!
<"Wyll to Lance One! Center of the line's ready. Good luck, sir.">
BOOOOOOOOM!!!!
<"Likewise, Lance Three! You'll be seein' me dartin' back-an'-forrit anyway, so we can catch up on the situation as it develops then. Lance One out!">
BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

All Hell let loose from the other side of the breach, all the Mongrel's farthest-reaching firepower from the eastern approach to the Myrmidon Quarter, all the Mawsworn's labours were bearing the fruits they desired; indiscriminate destruction of whatever lay between them and the perspiring defenders on the other side, making rubble of the duracrete walls, courtyards and the small buildings that served as means to slow their advance, with little care as to the risks such rubble incurred to those attacking Barran's subordinates on foot. Of those fortunate enough to miss it, Dante Corvus, Sellis Gorman and Alric Árheim would be ordered to remain behind and fight to the last gasp; if Lord Erskine were to die in his attempt to hold off the gathering horde, he knew there would need to be at least someone competent enough to muster the remnants for the forlorn final stand, viable enough under the direction of those Barran had kept in reserve.

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

'People will talk of this night for centuries to come, Vandemarian. Lets give them something worthy to fawn over, let us endeavour something worthy of remembrance together.'

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

'Sir, If I may?', Stilicho asked without warning or prompt, seeing the approaching Mawites making full use of the cover granted by the creeping-barrage itself, but somehow not behaving fearful, or stern in his resolving to fight to the bitter end either. What Lord Erskine was seeing in the Agema's eyes, contrary to everyone manning the Myrmidon chokepoint, was something he'd never expect to see under the circumstances; beyond all reason for hope of prevailing soundly, beyond all perceived possibilities of seeing a favourable result, the Woad was somehow seeing hope in the eyes of his temporary bodyguard. Nodding assent, Lord Erskine would smirk as his permission to speak was given in silence, folding arms in curiosity as the young Agema guardsman continued,'When you said,"I've always fought through them so I wouldn't know.", something stirred in me. And now, somehow, I find myself knowing that I must keep you alive with every ounce of strength and cunning I have it in me to exert. Survive, retreat with me when the time comes. Please, sir.', with a nuanced sort of sincerity that Barran had never attributed to his ilk before.

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

'Aw'right then, Stilicho....'

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

'Deal, but the only way you're getting me back t'Fort Imperium is if the Maw start retreating an'aw.... Good counteroffer, lad? Or not so much?'

BOOOOOOOOM!!!!​

Launching a wild overhand right into the wall next to him, Stilicho knew that his job had become infinitely more difficult as a result, also knowing he would still accept anyway and raging mostly at himself for it; and as the Agema guardsman watched the Lord-General drawing his basket-hilted Vibrosword like he was bringing out a holy sceptre for all to see, he knew there was absolutely no way he could the Woad in anything relevant to the matter, and as far as Stilicho saw it - his life was at the complete mercy of the Lord-General's decisions for the rest of the battle. After calming down a little, the guardsman had enough time to nod agreement to the agreement's new stipulation before the last impact of the Mongrel's last barrage hit home at the left hand side of the HASCO-stretch they were standing behind, causing the ground the rumble and shake beneath their boots as they jumped back onto the ground that had thrown them off their feet to begin with.

'Better get to work then, sir! The men need a leader, not the first in a procession of sacrifices! Show them there's still hope to be found in this mess!'

'Good idea - toss me onto the HASCO!', Erskine replied, approaching the Vandemarian at a near-sprint to facilitate the giant's throw a little easier. From there, the Lord-General would jump onto the giant's hand and allow himself to be thrown by the heels of both feet, landing atop the HASCO with his Vibrosword still in the attentive grip of his right hand then pulling out his personal comm-device with eyes firmly on the swelling mob of Mawite soldiers and undead in the distance; then, when he finally saw the full extent of the enemy contingent sent to annihilate him, Barran couldn't help but giggle with delight, pleasantly surprised at the fact the Maw finally learned not to take any chances whenever the Woad was in play. By the time his laughter had subsided, the Stormchaser's darker alter-ego had come to the fore of his mind to mutter,'Honoured t'know oor Mongrel still knows better, honoured he was smart enough to send this many to make sure. Helluva mob here, Br'er!', as the comm-device steadily made it's way towards the Lord-General's mouth, inhaling with luxurious abandon as his thumb danced over the,"SPEAK", button.

<"All units at the breach, this is Barran! I'll keep it short an' sweet for the sake o' your patience, wearin' thin to visible proportions but that can still be channelled into something effective.... There are savages bearing down on us, but if ever there was a time when I would allow such chaotic behaviour of my subordinates, this would be it! NOW GIVE ME YER BEST CORUSCANT MANTRA!!!! LET ME HEAR THE GREATEST WAR-CRY OF OUR GENERATION!!!!">

"MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!! MAW - DELENDA - EST!!!!"​

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE RUUUUUUUUUUUUUURIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK!!!!!'

 

[Nukth Kelga'an]

INVASION OF NIRAUAN
OBJECTIVE I | GROUND ZERO
OPPOSING | BROTHERHOOD of the MAW
PINGS | DECEASED Erskine Barran | The Mongrel | Knight

​

A BEACH TOO FAR: PART. 4
— 868 ABY, Saffia Sector, New Carannia, Nirauan.

<MAW DELENDA EST! MAW DELENDA EST! MAW…> the soldiers bellowed on the coms while Erskine was giving strength to them.

Kelga’an got a look at the situation in his HUD and saw that Knight's forces were coming to him and his men. Stang! Finally! But as his AT-RT was coming to his position, another a black AT-AT — he didn’t know the real name of this… was it a vehicle? — went to encounter him and the two Banshees’ squads that he commanded for the moment.

"Banshee-Leader, Specter of Night, we have arrived in the combat area. Designate targets. Glory to the Empire."​

<Maw delenda est, as they say,> the Captain nodded. <Well… we currently are in a difficult situation. If ya could target the oddballs further in the street, ya would be a nice guy, Specter o’ Night.>

As he was talking to his ally, an anti-vehicle missile quickly reached Banshees’ position and exploded on the APC they were taking as a cover.

“Stang! Usually, we’re better than that, Cap’!” a soldier said.
“Right, commando, but we’ve not been designed to fight Mawites in a stang street of a stang city. We’ll work on that later, don’t worry. Be concentrated on this instant. Everythin’s happenin’ now!” the Captain answered.

Kelga’an waited for an action from Specter of Night while still watching his HUD to know where everyone was on the map. The Banshees were moving forward in a lot of areas, but the situation was bogged down in the 73rd North. The Captain was hoping that Uniform would save his commandos and would take the advantage of the fight.

Dub-Fi took the lead of the situation as he could during a couple of minutes with his two brothers until Mawites’ repositioning carried out to counter Banshess’ defence. When the Scav Kings left the streets to reach 26th North, Fi heavily sighed while putting his rhypalm grenade in his front bag. He got a look at the commandos with him and ordered them to secure the area and to prevent a potential counter-assault from the Maw in this zone.

<Here’s ‘55, area cleared. Over.>

<Uniform Squad on your way, Guardian an’ Hurley!> a sergeant said while an APC was moving quickly in their direction.

Skull turned around, letting the medics do their jobs and load the wounded soldiers aboard.

“Is there a sapper with ya?” Sergeant Skull asked his counterpart.
“Yap!” answered a soldier while getting out of the One-Thirteen. “Did ya ask me, sir?”

Skull nodded quickly, designating his tank and the former APC next to it that was a wreck right now. He shrugged his shoulders, simply watching the sapper in front of him.

“Do what ya can, commando. I won’t hold it against ya. If we’ve just one tank thanks to ya, I would be fine. Go ahead.”
“Yessir,” the soldier replied while running to Guardian’s APC.
<Here’s ‘55, area cleared. Over.> Dub-Fi announced on the comlink.
<Gimme more good news like this one, Fi. Did ya kill the Mawites?> the Sergeant asked.
<Not at all sir. They just ran away to another unknown position. Currently securin’ area with my boys an’ waitin’ for ya an’ the other Guardians. ‘55, out.>
<Copy that.>

“Ooh stang! Cap’, bad guys incomin’!!!” a commando exclaimed to Kelga’an.

The officer simply nodded, looking at the Mawites coming in his street.

Oski so here we’re. New enemies, but new allies also. If Knight moves on the right… No, bad way to solve this situation. Knight must go ahead, bein’ a shield fo’ us while we’re arming the One-Thirty, we’ll be able to use the machineguns an’ to dispatch Maw’s organisation. Divide an’ conquer.

<Knight! Can ya move ahead from your position? I need a shield to re-equip my APCs an’ help ya in this fight. Specter o’ Night will take the shots for ya an’ be used as a protector. Is it OK?> the Captain asked on the coms.
​

 

[Aemilio Valaar]

// Voidwalker-Actual // 501st Legion, Black Hands //
// Objective I : The Great Flank
// ALLIES: DECEASED Aron Gowrie - DECEASED Erskine Barran - Willan Tal - Alric Árheim - Ortʹtʹo Mikla - Kolson Vrask - Sephi Karneh - Dante Corvus - Darth Imperius - Julian Qar - Shai Maji - Alex Eldar - Sturit Goan - Nukth Kelga'an - Knight - Aridius 'TK-1575'
// ENEMIES: Brotherhood of the Maw, New Sith Order, Witches of Rhand, The Mongrel , Halketh , Alars Keto , Khamul Kryze , SCAR , Zachariel Steelblood
// Engaging :
// Gear : Tenebrae, Tidefall, Left-Handed Grav Glove

'Eeeeerrrr... Actually - ah don't know, man.'

Aemilio paused.

Without word as to what was occurring on the east side of the city, things could prove to be troublesome. Any number of hazards that hadn't been forewarned to the Black Hands - not that he had been cleared for the maneuver. The cautious commander would sound for a careful advance, staggered, not as tight as the vehicles had come in the roadways.

The Iron Youth Officer however, had enough confidence in the forces of their Order to hold fast. Whether they knew there were reinforcements enroute would not matter, for they would fight until they could no longer do so. At least, that's what he assumed of them. Giving a look to the interior of AFV One, namely his own troopers that boarded with him. They expected it too.

There was better news though.

'Looks like we've got the northern battlefront to ourselves, with nobody anywhere near us getting in the way now! Lets go for it! Mow everything down while we make our way to the Saffia coastline!'

Feth Saffia.

The entertainment district could be burned to the ground for all he cared. Criminals the lot of them. Let the Maw hold it a little while longer.

Gives us more reason to turn it to dust.

Unbeknownst to him, the rumbling on the eastern flank of the Myrmidon Quarter stemmed from the signed off district.

"Yes, Saffia," he finally answered drily. "Do you know if Barran evacuated the district?" It didn't matter what Reed's answer was. Aemilio was already tossing around the idea of an emergency bombardment on the coastline. Though, it did beg the question as to how much of the city was cleared of civilians.

His internal ruminations were soon interrupted by Reed's conversation with his driver.

'Pleasure t'meet ye, sir. I guess I should be the first t'tell you that the entire crew of AFV One are Woad-born rogues from Milton, just like the scar-faced Captain here.... An' bein' honest, I'm the one who cut his face, way back when though.'

The underlying implication of their previous relationship was not lost on him. There was one such like that for him. COMPNOR's dismantled Sub-Adult Group's Konrad Harrsk forced to fold into the Bastion Youth when it achieved legitimization. He snorted, faintly shaking his head. He still wanted to kill the man. There was a debt to be paid for sure, but it could wait for a little while longer. Aemilio wondered if Reed thought the same of his rival turned driver.

"With the allies we got ourselves, this war'll take a lot longer than it should," Aemilio drawled of the members of the Bastion Accords. Jedi backed governments... Laughable. How many times had they been uplifted by the Empire just to fall soon after? He made a face behind the helmet, sneering. Suddenly, he was straight-backed, and the driver called out incoming fire.

Soon determined to be from the Mawite Forces they had let past their position unmolested. Tension remaining in his rigid form, Aemilio rotated his helmet in the direction of Alun.

"We ought to split the forces before we hit proper resistance. Some to the North, through the suburbs, and punch through whatever's waiting for us." Simple tactics. Reed would be familiar with the idea when he suggested the flank on Mongrel's Hill. No need for groundbreaking maneuvers when there were much more simpler ways to do things.

 

[Fiolette Fortan]

I R O N_Q U E E N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IN SERVICE TO IMPERATOR RURIK FEL AND KING ERNEST ALBERT V
COMMANDER GALIDRAAN VOID STRIKE GROUP
CODE NAME: 'THE VOID LIONS'

THE GNASHING OF STEEL AND BONES
NIRAUAN

Spoiler: TL;DR

• RGNS Celestial Knights, Herevan Heavies bomb Mawite lines, RGNS Brighton's Briarwolves and Northumbrian Nexu's along with House Fortan's Nerissa's Strikers and Paladins bomb vehicle stockpile and artillery. Escorted by but not pictured RGNS Sarissa's Chosen (Superior Fighters), RGNS King's Vanguard (Superior Fighters), with RGNS Thames Shield (Defenders), and RGNS Andrasta's Arrow (Interceptors). RGNS Voidhawks (Superior Fighters), RGNS Chargers (Superior Fighters), RGNS Rooks (Defenders), and RGNS Pyre Pikes (Interceptors). HFNS Wyldfolk, Tamsin's Tormentors (Superior Fighters) and HNFS Lancers and Knights (Defenders).
• Not pictured, Raskova, Rudneva and Firedrake escorted by 3rd and 7th Bolt Corvette Squadron are making their way out of the battle.
• 2nd Arditi Battalion rerouted joins NIO Counter Attack shielding Clan McCulloch
• Fearless, Ryabova, and Raspopova along with the 4th Bolt Squadron are being pulled back.
• There is no third wave, second and first waves will head back to the fleet.

Spoiler: Task Force 'KINGSMAN'

TASK FORCE KINGSMAN
NEW IMPERIAL NAVY - ROYAL GALIDRAANI ARMADA
ROYAL GALIDRAANI NAVAL STRIKE GROUP | 29,912m
HOUSE FORTAN NAVAL FORCES | 9,634m
COMBINED STRENGTH | 39,546m

FLAGSHIP
RGNV IRON QUEEN | SLOANE-CLASS BATTLECRUISER | 100/100 | 5000M

BATTLECRUISERS
RGNV WARSPITE |RESURGENT II-CLASS BATTLECRUISER | 100/100 | 3000M
RGNV WARRIOR | RESURGENT II-CLASS BATTLECRUISER | 100/100 | 3000M


STAR DESTROYERS
RGNV KIMBRELL | KIMBRELL-CLASS STAR DESTROYER | 100/100 | 2000M
RGNV IMPERIAL | IMPERIAL II-CLASS STAR DESTROYER | 100/100 | 1600M
RGNV ILLUSTRIOUS | IMPERIAL II-CLASS STAR DESTROYER | 100/100 | 1600M

CRUISERS
RGNV VINDICATOR | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M
RGNV VALORUS | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M
RGNV VALIANT | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M
RGNV VITTORIA | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M

FRIGATES
RGNV ARDENT | ARDENT-CLASS FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV ARROW | ARDENT-CLASS FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV SEAWOLF | SEAWOLF III-CLASS HEAVY FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV SPEARHEAD | SEAWOLF III-CLASS HEAVY FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV SWIFT | SEAWOLF III-CLASS HEAVY FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV SPARROW | SEAWOLF III-CLASS HEAVY FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
RGNV DAGGER | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M
RGNV DARING | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M
RGNV DAUNTLESS | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M
RGNV DRAGON | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M


CORVETTES
RGNV FIREDRAKE | FORTAN IV-CLASS HEAVY CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
RGNV FEARLESS | FORTAN IV-CLASS HEAVY CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
RGNV RASKOVA | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
RGNV RYABOVA | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
RGNV RUDNEVA | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
RGNV RASPOPOVA | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M

RGN 3RD CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M
RGN 4TH CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M
RGN 7TH CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M
RGN 9TH CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M

HOUSE FORTAN NAVAL FORCES

BATTLECRUISERS
HFNV DOWAGER | DOWAGER II-CLASS BATTLECRUISER | 100/100 | 4000M

CRUISERS
HNFV WYNELLE | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M
HNFV WYNEVERE | VINDICATOR III-CLASS CARRIER CRUISER | 100/100 | 750M

FRIGATES
HNFV ARMAND | ARDENT-CLASS FRIGATE | 100/100 | 400M
HNFV DUKE | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M
HNFV DIONE | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M
HNFV DANTE | DAGGER V-CLASS ASSAULT FRIGATE | 100/100 | 258M

CORVETTES
HNFV FREOC | FORTAN IV-CLASS HEAVY CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
HNFV FREDAR | FORTAN IV-CLASS HEAVY CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
HNFV ROSE | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
HNFV ROSALYN | RASKOVA IV-CLASS ASSAULT CORVETTE | 100/100 | 200M
HFNV MAVRIEL | MUHKTIAR III-CLASS ATTACK CORVETTE | 100/100 | 180M
HFNV MAREE | MUHKTIAR III-CLASS ATTACK CORVETTE | 100/100 | 180M
HFNV MINERVA | MUHKTIAR III-CLASS ATTACK CORVETTE | 100/100 | 180M
HFNV MATTIAS | MUHKTIAR III-CLASS ATTACK CORVETTE | 100/100 | 180M

HNFV 1ST CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M
HNFV 2ND CORVETTE SQUADRON | 12X BOLT-V CLASS CORVETTES | 100/100 | 720M​

The sounds of Western Goidel broke through the comms <<Hoaching with blood bit aye duin tae murdurr mair, we git caught by th' deid near artillery - we're up oan yer bahookie noo. Catch up wi` ye at th' fort. >> Bruce of Clan McCulloch called out to the Lord General DECEASED Erskine Barran himself. Clan McCullouch meant to move around and join the flanks but ended up caught up in the gruesome task of cutting their way toward the lines with the amount of undead the Mawites unleashed. << Th' damn arditi ur oan th' front o' us as shields taken a' th' glory mynd ye, tae th' fort we gang>>

The 2nd Battlalion of Arditi had moved up to cover Clan McCulloch knowing that the 5th Battalion would soon be making landfall to add to their numbers. Numbers as they were, Royal Galidraani and House Fortan forces continued to move using precision strikes to bomb the Mawite and their reinforcements. Striking at the noted lines they were given, fed by New Imperial data TIE Bombers and their escorts dropped their payloads with brutal efficiency. Among House Fortan's lead squadron Wyldfolk running escort beside the Paladins had been Niance Kinniak. Fiolette's own granddaughter who for the time being was in her grandmother's employ.

Niance had gone through the rigors of the previous First Order's Imperial Academies and had joined their Starfighter Corps prior to their quiet withdrawal from the galactic stage. She had since maintained her skills with Primo Victorian's paramilitary organization, at least until today. "Hold steady, watch for AA," she called out over the encrypted comms, "stay by your assignments." Their task was rather simple escort the bombers and return to the fleet. The hope would be that by the time they had returned to the fleet they could engage the Mawite Forces in the Void.

There in the void, among the stars, Fiolette stood on the bridge of the Iron Queen contemplating her options, "Galeway, have both first and second waves return to the fleet." The sound of boots along the durasteel floors was muted along with the chorus of chirps and beeps from the computers. The dark side had tightened its grip around the woman's heart and mind, she wanted nothing more than the continuation of those in anguish, those who delighted it in - only made the dark side swell with glee. So surely as the New Imperials on the ground send the Mawites back. Or at least, this was their task some perhaps enjoyed the idea of allowing their brethren to bleed - in which case these New Imperials had truly become what they hated the most.

The Sith Empire.

For only the Sith Empire would delight in allowing their numbers to bleed, those deaths fueled their powers. Here it made little sense unless someone was aiming for a bigger office. Fiolette rather enjoyed the idea of watching them tear each other apart, but for now, there was something much more tangible in her wake. Death.

"I trust you are well-rested," she spoke to Kassandra Distorith softly, whispering in another language that none on the bridge could understand. Kassandra only grinned in response and quietly retreated from the bridge. She would amplify Fiolette's connection to the Force. "Galeway get an encrypted message to Vile. Inform him of the targets, they would relieve the pressure of Pavan's fleet from Krieg. A standard introduction, "this is Fiolette Fortan with the Royal Galidraani Navy and House Fortan Naval Support. We're here aiding the New Imperial Navy." A pause as she moves to elaborate why she's contacted him. "There's a fleet here," a ping was sent to indicate Pavan's fleet. "I have no doubt that their masters have become aware of the bombing runs, they should be moving to intercept. We stop them before this happens."

From there the channel was cut with a simple, Fortan out.

"Pull us away from Nirauan. Ready the mass drivers, I want every ship with a mass driver cannon to ready target on this vessel," she gave the instructions one of the Mawite Star Destroyers. "Once every ship is back in this fleet, we move to engage, escorts at the ready with magpulse, plasma and disruptor weapons. All mass drivers ready up with ball bearing shells, as promised... today we make them bleed."

ORDER
Wilhuff Krieg | Desarnte Harz | Commodore Albrecht Herlock | DECEASED Erskine Barran | Culas Vile


CHAOS
Tu'teggacha | Nyree Pavan | The Mongrel
​

 

[Rurik Fel]

E M P E R O R

THE EMPIRE
ORDER OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
CHAPTER 'IRON CRUSADE'
Iron Skin | Lightsaber​

EMPEROR
​

He'd never been one too consumed with the delusions of power. The solitary soul doing his duty. That diligent forsaking of his peers in order to march headlong into the fray, ready to live and die by the sword had caught the best of him more often than otherwise. That willful isolation he imposed on himself from all those around him was far more forebodingly cold than it was truly objective in its effectiveness. It took a great deal of humility and selflessness to crucify the ego within himself and join together with the scions of Order and fight as one with them. Though that initial moment of full unison waned into a state of augmented traits and ability in battle that sourced from each Knight's contribution to the meld.

But there was still no guarantee in the fight before him. Where the Sith who'd faced him before held little emotional significance in Fel, which was the catalyst from which the Sith sourced their power, Mori very evidently held an esteemed grudge of the Emperor. It fueled each and every action of her being. That swarming hatred coursed through her veins and translated into vicious, violent attacks unto the Man of Iron.

As much as it was a vicious bite, it was all but the equivalent of biting into poison as Rurik lashed back in seventh form with each reprisal wrought unto the blade at the end of her Sith weapon and dark power. His stance all but inviting the aggression as he sought any opportunity to parry, riposte and disrupt each attempt upon him.

As soon as she mirrored his sentiment in horrid reflection back unto him, he brought his mind to ease once more.

"I promise you, Sith, you won't."

He said in reply to her verbal riposte as tendrils of vantablack darkness lurched out toward him. He reached his left hand out with an open palm to allow the tendrils to surge and grasp ahold of his forearm before he snapped his fingers closed, splaying them open once more before pressing that hand forward. In her virulent resurgence of darkness and hatred. He sought to shatter it all around her.

KNIGHTS OF THE EMPIRE
Lucien Dooku | Bastard | Waymar Geyer | Khroraic | Saaveina | Ignatius | Ragnar Bloodfist | Mogra'teksa

THE DARKNESS
Darth Mori​

[/CENTER]

 

[Darth Tennacus]

​

Engaging: Ragnar Bloodfist​

His resolve is strong. Tennacus could feel it, even from behind the force shield he'd projected. He'd always known that numbers did not amount to power; the philosophy and lineage of Darth Bane had long served as a reminder of that. Even outside of the occupation of the Sith, the Zabrak had somehow acquired the strength to handle himself alone. The Jedi could be strong, too, but they were wise to move in numbers and depend on each other when they knew they were outmatched. Even as the Sith held his composure, pouring the force into the shield ahead of him, he had to wonder what this individual could accomplish under a Sith apprenticeship.

He was strong. But his determination clouded his judgement.

It was true that his determination paid off to some extent. Where Tennacus had briefly been taken back by his own thoughts, he had left himself open for an attack from behind, throwing his focus into the shield ahead of him. It was because of this that Tennacus only reacted with barely seconds of time to spare. The saber ascended and streaked itself across his back, tearing open his jacket. The initial wound surged through the Sith with a channelling of pain which served to fuel the power of the dark side. Throwing himself forward upon the conclusion of the blade scarring his flesh, the Sith Lord tapped into the new fuel reserve to strengthen his own resolve, converting the shield into a Force Maelstrom which exploded around him in an electrifying wave of force energy.

The ferocity of the explosive storm crippled the ground beneath them with deep gashes and fissures. With each electrical current that whipped itself through the air, the ground only continued to cripple as the pain of Tennacus' wound converted itself into a destructive weapon. Tennacus had hoped to let his enemy get close to some extent, hoping to trigger the maelstrom when the Zabrak got close, although he did not intend to suffer a wound because of it. But now that Ragnar was behind him, he didn't hold back on using the fresh, searing wound to strengthen the storm. He wanted to know the durability of his opponent.

Now he was about to find out.

 

[Zachariel Steelblood]

Objective: Kill, Maim, Burn!
Allies: The Mongrel | Halketh | Maestus | Khamul Kryze | Alars Keto
Enemies: DECEASED Erskine Barran | Darth Imperius | Willan Tal | Shai Maji | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Alex Eldar | Aemilio Valaar | Fiolette Fortan
Fighting/Interacting: Yes
Links: Weapons | Ships | Chosen

Maw Flanking Attack​

On and on they pushed, the Brotherhood couldn't afford to stop, couldn't afford to slow down and be cut off or encircled. Each step taken brought more deaths, each road crossed and barricade overcome, yet more lost. But halting would mean death, encirclement of those already counterattacking, or pushing in from behind. Thousands had come on this suicide mission, each knowing it was very likely they would die. Still they came, for the Avatars, and for the Maw. Of those thousands, thousands had already died, each agonizing step bringing them closer to their objective and closer to death.

As they continued their push, hundreds more would die at the very least, if not thousands again. Their initial landing had gone with minimal loss of life, the occasional lander destroyed, but many had made it to the ground. It was the following, unrelenting, artillery fire that had shredded their numbers. The Brotherhood, more specifically the Bloodsworn, had swarmed forth as they always did, rushing towards the foe and their objective. Subsequent artillery fire had torn their numbers in two, leaving the Bloodsworns leadership much to consider, much to change for future campaigns against such trained foes.

However, those thoughts were for later, currently they had to continue on, fight on and not lose sight of their goal. Thankfully for them the artillery fire had died down for awhile, allowing them to maneuver marauders more quickly across the streets. Those to their West soon came under greater fire, even as the Brotherhood settled into the rubble and half remaining buildings for a siege. They didn't need to dislodge the counterattack, merely halt it from getting to the rest of the force. And while the fighting as fierce, a small corridor was open, merely a few streets to move along.

That corridor was used by the other half of the force, slamming into the Southern counterattack with ferocity and howls. Allied artillery fire had allowed them to close the gap, and now Chosen led the charge of a mass of marauders into the foe. Slamming into enemy lines, they fought on, dying in droves to make it but a few steps closer.
"Forward you dogs!" Cried one Chosen, pointing forward to the spaceport, towards the guns. "We're there, take them all!"

It was wishful thinking, for they were still a few blocks away from the spaceport, but they were very close. Unfortunately, said Chosen would never see them take the spaceport, for he was soon gunned down by enemy fire, by gunners who wisely identified him as a leader to be eliminated. But his death wouldn't stop them, their target was in sight, and the flagging ferocity of the Bloodsworn renewed somewhat, finally seeing an end. Soon they would succeed in their mission, or so they hoped.

This hope is ruined partially by the arrival of more NIO forces, this time in the form of Mandalorians strafing them atop Basilisk war droids. A stray rocket or two fly up in response, but primarily it's simple blaster fire that returns to the sky. Their foe has numerical, logistical, and air superiority. For the Bloodsworn, their only hope is to make it to the not so distant spaceport, and commandeer the weapons there for their own uses. On and on they trudge, unable to stop, and unwilling to die.

"Where are our Mandalorians?!" Comes a desperate cry, quickly silenced by another smacking him. Said leader soon yells out, her voice carrying across Brotherhood comms.
"The Bloodsworn are nearing the spaceport, we see the guns and landing zones! Requesting final air support and missiles on the foe! One last push and we may have them and this battle will change."

Her words are not panicked, but they are nearing it, desperately needing support so they could push on. She is but one of those in this force calling out for aid, though most voices beseech the Avatars, even as they rush forward.

Main Push​

Where the flanking force has not slowed or stopped, for only death awaited them, the main push had slowed to a crawl. Tasked to hold the defensive lines still, they had done so by pushing South and West. The corridor created by the flanking force is used by them to create an Eastern line. Rockets fly freely towards the enemy tanks, but they are not truly enough to destroy many, if any are lost. No, they simply hold the line as best they can, laying down as much fire as possible.

Few of the Bloodsworn forces here remain back, most having joined the primary line holding against the NIO and the Myrmidon Quarter. With continuous blaster fire being exchanged, the Bloodsworn let out oaths as more die on both sides. And while they are holding the NIO in place, they too are being held still, entirely open to return blows. Soon those blows land home, cutting them off from retreat. Bombardment runs from Fiolette's forces hit home, behind the current locations of the Bloodsworn on the Western side. Some stray forces are lost, but they are minimal.

The true loss, to the NIO and the Bloodsworn, is the means of retreat. As marauders of the Brotherhood of the Maw, retreat is unthinkable. As marauders of the Bloodsworn, even moreso. But not having the option and it being entirely denied are very different, and the latter leaves them corner. They know now, with deadly certainty, that retreat is impossible, and they must go forward through the foe. Pushing on, the embattled Maw forces force themselves forward, losing more and more warriors with each passing minute. And as they go with new focus, they are targeted again and again.

Coming under fire from the tanks of Gowrie, they dig in further into the rubble city. Occasional fire will shatter a house being used as cover, leaving behind naught but rubble and corpses. In many places, the Bloodsworn have naught but rubble to cover them, but they take what they can, digging into the rubble for cover. As more are lost and less cover is to be had, the marauders return fire with greater and greater anger, knowing death awaits but desiring more innocent souls to join them. Locked in place, unwilling and unable to move, the exchange of fire grows ever greater, with the Bloodsworn unwilling to die without taking more to the Nether with them.

And above all the chaos of battle, Zachariel and his few Chosen with him continue their battle with Aurelian. They barely notice the struggle of the Bloodsworn, so engrossed are they with their foes. Battling atop what few rooftops remain, they continue on, blades locking and armor taking hits, but not yielding, not yet. Above and below the conflict is mirrored, different. A struggle below, reveling above, a simple tipping point ready to change everything on both fronts. Thus the conflict continues, ever onward towards its inevitable conclusion, with howls to the Dark Three on the lips of the Brotherhood, they fight. Unwilling to accept defeat, and unable to yet grasp victory, even as blades clash and blasterfire is exchanged.

 

[Sephi Karneh]

N O V A
TASK FORCE TRACHTA
1st GROUP | 'VANDAL' SQUAD
Equipment listed in char. bio.

I DON'T THINK I'M BREATHIN'
​

Biting into the dirt, the commando pressed her body as tightly into the narrow crevice as she could, enduring the shower of debris and shrapnel her clever counterattack had flung about. It had been enough to damage him, as much she could hear by his reaction alone, and she knew then that his retaliation would come swiftly and without mercy. Nova rolled to her feet and darted to the warped door close by, grateful the damage to the building had shorted the electronic locks enough for her to outright kick the thing open. She needed cover, distance, or height advantage. Something, anything really, to give her a leg up where it was desperately needed the most.

Explosions rocked the building, ejected the broken path, shattered what little windows remained. The structure shuddered with the titanic cyborg's rain of explosive fire, his attempts to root her out or kill her on impact crashing down like the sky itself was falling. She searched in vain for stairs, a ladder, anything she could use to escape the pit of Hell she had been thrown into. But there was nothing, no reprieve. The fastest way out was through. It's what she had told herself on the days training left her so bloodied and broken it was all she could do to cry quietly enough the others couldn't hear. That notion had etched itself into her mind in gilded glory, and it was the sole drive often that kept her steadfast.

She didn't have long to think, to formulate a strategy or plan, as one moment the wall separating her from her nightmarish foe was there, and the next, she tasted the mortar that solidified it. Chunks of insulation, fragmented brick, and steel shrapnel accompanied her in the ear-splitting throw backward, her tumble stopped by the wall opposite. Her magcannon tanked the brunt of the blow, yet without her guarding crown, her skull was left to crash into the wall with a decisive whip of her neck, and for a moment, as her vision swirled into flickering stars, she fought unconsciousness.

Sephi sat there, slumped against the wall, a fresh tide of crimson seeping down the nape of her neck to trickle onto the debris-littered floor around her. An eye plagued by dizziness barely held itself half-open, struggling to focus on The Mongrel some ten meters away now that she had been exposed yet again. Beyond the ringing hiss in her ears, she barely registered the pounding thrum of her heart. Overturned against her lap, her fingers twitched weakly, the only sign beyond the heaving throes of her rising shoulders and parted lips that she was still drawing breath.



ALLIES | NIO | Kolson Vrask Raus Garrat Aemilio Valaar DECEASED Erskine Barran Ortʹtʹo Mikla Alex Eldar Shai Maji Keilara Kala'myr Bastard @IMMOGS
FOES | BOTM | The Mongrel SCAR Zachariel Steelblood @IMCAELITUS