Writing's on the Wall (Ruusan Rebellion: Sith Triumvirate v. Techno Union)

[Matsu Xiangu]

LOCATION: Outside Obsidian Compound
OBJECTIVE: Engage opposition, breach the compound.
ALLIES: [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"] | [member="Oron Verd"]
ENEMIES: [member="Sinistra"] | [member="Raziel"]

If there was any opponent on Ruusan that day that looked at the smoke demons with glee, it was Matsu. True sorcerers were few and far between, though she’d seen a few bastardizations of what she considered high art. Whoever this was plied their trade with a judicious affection and that she could appreciate, and even respect. As their hideous screams tore the air in half, Matsu felt - for a fleeting moment - a rush of her worst memories, her most crushing pains, every dark moment of her life. Were she anyone else she would have been crippled in terror. But then...it was gone, and in its place left only study.

She too, was a sorceress. And knowledge conquered fear.
(Destroy the roots, and the tree will die.)

Her claws springing from her recently repaired arms (a necessity, thanks to Siobhan Kerrigan), she cut through the first to charge her. To her it was an amorphous blob. She could feel the heat it gave off, hear the angry sizzling of her armor as it baked in what seemed like a thousand suns - it may have burned her alive had she allowed it any closer. It disappeared in wisps with the touch of her claws ripping it where its neck might have been. The air was rife with the panic and dying screeches of those Triumvirate forces that fell to the onslaught, and in return Matsu lifted a hand to channel her power, using the bulk of Carach’s form as a shield for the moment she worked.

The dead Triumvirates rose again, eyes glowing with the demented persistence of Matsu’s necromancy. Some rose just to fall again, but countless others pressed on with advantage. They did not know fear.

Through their connection of decades of partnership, Matsu felt something like recognition from Carach.

“A friend of yours?”

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Location: Ruusan's Moon, Listening Post
Ally: [member="Elijah Rekali"]

Well, this blows, thought Dak as he sat in the bay of the shuttle along with the other members of the strike team. He didn't have any especial fondness for the Techno Union, but until a couple months ago he'd been fighting on their side. Would he know any of the guys they were fighting against on this listening post? No. No probably not, because the galaxy has trillions of people in it. So that was a relief.

Sort of.

Anyway, Canton didn't exactly relish the new mission, but thems the breaks. Tion Hegemony held his contract with the Whiteguard, so when Tion brass told him to go kill some Union boys he wasn't exactly in a position to protest. Besides, wouldn't be the first time he'd switched sides. Freakin' Reppies.

For all purposes, Dak looked like any other stormtrooper in the well-worn, white armor. He carried a traditional Blas Tech carbine in his hands - the good old CC13 model - and a Lazy Eye sat in the holster at his hip. Nothing especially intriguing. Not as remarkable as the Devaronian in the hockey mask, or the Gamorrean freak show. Not to mention the Mando.

Thankfully, he didn't have to listen to that circus act anymore.

They were here.

How did Dak know? Because they started taking fire.

Point defense weapons rattled against the ship and evasive juking set Dak's stomach on the verge of empty. Canton felt himself thrown forward against the straps by the sudden braking as the shuttle swung over the listening post.

"Go, go, go!"

Green light in the bay. The ramp extended to a hellish zone. Even inside his helmet Dak could hear the sound of the belly-mounted blaster cannon on the shuttle going bwopbwopbwop, covering them for an exit.

They piled on out of the bay and Dak found himself jumping off the ramp and into the soil of Ruusan's moon. A bolt of red hissed by, inches from his feet.

"Freaking A." When they said hot, they meant hot.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Obsidian Compound
Allies: [member="Olivia Durant"] | [member="Cole Katarn"]
Objective: GTFO

Click. Click. Click.

Sal loaded .420 buck into a revolver. He felt eyes on him and looked up, caught Cole staring. The older Katarn acknowledged his cousin's nod with a grunt, then went back to work.

Click. Click. Click.

If you put a man down, you better make him stay down. If he gets back up, you're in for a world of hurt. So said Sal's experience. Not a lot got back up from eight balls of tactical buck. A Jedi's worst nightmare.

Sal looked back up when Cole and Durant left the room. He frowned.

"Hm."

Not a lotta people understood the Force. Sal didn't pretend he knew more than its raw application. What did a bunch of philosophical abstraction mean when ultimately the Force came down to the ability to manipulate matter and energy with the mind? Bolts of lightning. Telekinesis. Mind control. Sal could count the ways he'd seen it manifested. Sometimes destructive. Sometimes healing. Always powerful.

Always something he would never have, as permanent as the massassi rune tattoos on his back.

Sal shoved the revolver in a shoulder holster and glanced at Megan. "We good?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Rell, Stevens, let's go."

The Alliance Marines exited the armory.

"Jedi," Megan gestured, "Let's get out of here before it burns down around our ears, yeah?"

The rest of the unit was already moving.

 

[Eralam]

Allies: [member="Sinistra"]
Enemies: Working on that one
Objective: The Valley

https://youtu.be/r1AE6g8tEkI

No direction but to follow what you know
No direction but a faith in her decision
No direction but to never fight her flow
No direction but to trust the final destination

Sometimes, Eralam wondered what exactly that song was about. Ostensibly, it was about the Verde River, wherever the hell that was. He was starting to suspect that in the context of his life, it applied to the miniscule Sith woman who had summoned him here today.

The missive was simple: "Big fight. Bring help."

Well that was all kinds of nonspecific and extraordinarily unhelpful. But then again, that was normal. He and Sin had a strange, strange relationship, complicated by so many factors that trying to map them all out would likely take the better part of their remaining lifespans. Sometimes, they got along famously. Other times, for reasons the Shard couldn't begin to fathom, his very existence seemed to irritate her beyond all inorganic comprehension. And the hell of it was, he never knew which version he was going to get until they arrived at whatever the destination was.

It was maddening, in multiple ways, but the old Iron Knight was curious enough to stick around. There were few beings in this galaxy he considered to be friends, and while he wasn't exactly sure Sinistra was one of them, things were certainly a lot more interesting when she was involved.

There was one constant though: if she asked for help, things were deadly serious. The woman had a prideful streak that ran deep. She was every bit the Sith in many ways, even if her own brethren considered her something of an apostate. Pride, arrogance, and a thirst for independence were all intertwined with the very fabric of her soul. It cost her something to ask for help, but she also had the cold pragmatism that marked her order. She had that in spades. She might not like to ask for help, but she certainly would if it was absolutely necessary.

And so, the Shard had hopped a flight to Ruusan, and called in a few markers along the way. He wasn't sure how much help he could bring, exactly. There was a mop-headed Jedi Master that owed him a favor, and an old Arkanian Force User that seemed to change his alignment as often as he changed his underpants. Eralam had also put out calls to a couple of Mandalorians, mercenaries that had a long and storied history of fighting Force users.

Whether or not any of them would actually show up remained to be seen.

For now, all he could account for was himself. Sinistra had called, and he had answered. He stood with her in the Valley, his trademark Colt in a dropleg holster on his right hip, his eralam-bladed lightsaber on the left. A long, flowing cloak hung loosely from his shoulders, obscuring his nature to the casual observer.

"So what's the situation?"

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Location: Fort Nowhere
Allies: [member=Dagorn] | [member="Haytham Kaze"] | [member=Grundark]
Enemy: [member="Gulliver Foyle"]

Iron rain fell from the skies of Ruusan. Drop pods stuffed with Herglic Trade Empire marines cratered into the ground around Fort Nowhere, soon followed by their dropship counterparts, while menacing gunships flew escort.

“Acknowledged, Grundark, you have done well. I will now assume direct control, hauum.”

The reinforcements came from the two Tallaan-class cargo cruisers in orbit. The cruisers would be more whale-shark than great white in a fight, but their hangar complements would prove invaluable in the planetary assault.

The support craft were a mix of Fringe vessels, preserved for use by Darth Carach - former ruler of that sphere - and now once more sent into battle.

Twenty shocktroopers in power armor had been more than enough to deal with the occupants of the fort, especially when counting the deadliness of Orcus’ apprentices, but the coming fight would prove altogether different.

The blood of the slain scum of Fort Nowhere had yet to dry before Orcus began marshalling his forces for defense of the ruined stronghold.

He stepped over the corpse of a fallen mercenary and onto the ramp of a dropship that had been hastily overhauled into an impromptu FOB. “Mobi, what are our numbers?”

An albinos Herglic with fearsome facial scars turned to greet the Sith Lord. “Seven hundred and twenty infantry deployed in or around forty-eight Vornskr-class armored personnel carriers. We also have four QQ-4R65 Repulsortanks delivered from the Dreadhawk gunships.”

Orcus nodded and approached the holographic map of the battle laid out in the center of the bay. “Yes, I saw them landing. Air support?”

“No fighters to speak of, but the Dreadhawks and Pyrrhuses will serve well.”

The Sith grunted. “Not if they manage to deploy superiority snubs,” softer he muttered, “Maijora, we’re all counting on you now.”

Orcus waved a flipper and shifted to a display of the fleet engagement, waiting, but the heavenly strike proved unforthcoming.

“They’ve managed to deploy a cloud of supercooled gas into atmosphere. Messes with space to ground targeting and makes piloting those gunships through them less than ideal.”

“What.”

“They shot the clouds with carbonite missiles. Froze the clouds.”

Orcus frowned. “Froze the clouds, hauum. Those cloud banks will start to descend. They’ll have effectively gassed their own soldiers with carbonite.”

“Yes.”

The command staff stood silent for a moment, then Orcus began to chuckle. “An interesting stratagem. Deploy the tanks forward with half our forces, hold the other half in reserve. Grundark, I want you in one of those tanks.”

Orcus turned to his other two apprentices.

“Vanitas, you and Dagorn will take to the skies in a gunship. I want you to drop into the middle of their forces and sow havoc. Dagorn, give them the bayonet. Prove your worth, gentlebeings.”

“Mobi, get in contact with the fleet and requisition an orbital strike. If they don’t believe they can spare one battery for a single salvo, make them see the need.”

The APCs loaded up with infantry rolled out in a staggered formation, tanks in support. The dropships flew in a screen over the force, while the gunships surged ahead. A fully mechanized force ready to introduce the Imperium to joint warfare in a modern age.

The speed of the Vornskr APCs topped out around five hundred kilometers per hour, while the tanks could only make three hundred. Altogether, an advancing speed clocking in at two hundred and eighty kph. The opposite of an ideal target for artillery and mortars.



Forces
x720 Herglic Marines in Koodan-class armor.
x20 Malacath Shocktroopers in MA-1 Herglic Power Armor
x48 Vornskr-class APC
x4 Repuslortanks
x16 Dreadhawk Gunships
x24 Pyrrhus-class dropships

 

[Darth Rixas]

Location: Valley of the Jedi
Objective: Breach the Compound
Allies: [member="Darth Carach"], [member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Catalys Maijora"], [member="Seren Ordavo"]

The bursty recoil of Oron's heavy pistol banged against his wrist as he shot down Unionists scattered throughout the battlefield, left out for the Sith to cut down once they'd landed.. Then a cold, acidic form of sensation overtook him as the air shifted- something new being offered to the warriors on the battlefield. It was an hour in which none of the enemies were outside of the Fort, no sentinel patrols. Oron had a an immeasurable sense of timing that a snake could envy and appreciate. Always emerging from the verdant vegetation that encroaches the grounds of any given garden. Enrobed in ephemeral attire, shrouding his outline as efficiently as a spider's silk, delivering death with swift, efficient- accuracy and display.

But the horror he witnessed after whipping around to face the smoke demons were unimaginable, even for his idle mind. His heart was as mute as his mouth, making his person untouched by sound, by protest. Only the whites of his eyes, widened beneath his buy'ce, mouth stretched in a silent scream felt motion, albeit hidden behind gear. He watched, violated by this conjuration that'd invaded his mind, reveling in the sanctity of his secrets, forcing his bewildered form to lift his helmet from his head. Shaking hands dropped the heavy bucket at his feet, finding his moment- his area of the battlefield to be as frozen as a hall of carbonite frozen warriors. A struggle of the mouth found it impossible to speak until his teeth found purchase of his bottom lip- giving him the totality that what he saw before him was indeed real. Smoke demons were infamous for metamorphosing into their target's worst nightmares, before paralyzing and vaporizing them.

"Mother?"

The motion of his tongue would be his final, as his body became fully paralyzed- the smoke demon diving deeper into his mine, convening at the crux of his buried memories like wildlife in a stone pond, slipping within his being as seamless as a salmon to a stream.

Oron's mind was locked from himself, and his vision blurred to the world. There was only this phantasmal dreamscape the smoke demon projected into the Dark Jedi's mind which sought to manipulate and destroy him. The False Mother streaked, sinuous through the crystalline pool, like a wafting ribbon in the wind underneath the moon's celestial prism. Lithe and luminous, sleek as an eel, hair coiling in her wake, serpentine and slick as an oil spill. Oron's fingers itched to snare and catch the woman by her throat, like a fishmonger hunting Dathomirian Burra- the only effective tactic being quick and brutal.

The Abuser. The Murderer. The Cold and Unforgiving. A woman Oron watched claim the lives of his siblings- her own children, whom also tried to claim his life- several times, had returned to try once more. But he was a small child no more, unable to defend himself against the frustrated, drunken wrath of a hollow butcher. Such a revelation should have ended this nightmare but his predicament grew more real by the second.

Brilliantly scaled Laa fish brushed his calves, the arch of his feet- he could even see them weave through the floating forest of his mother's hair like tendrils of seaweed, and feel the vibrations they emitted in the water. It lapped at his flesh as she continued her approach, until finally the dream world gave way as Oron channeled the Dark Side into his being- fighting evil with evil. He materialized a Beskad in his left hand.

Raising it, he forced the illusion to stop, his solemn expression finally shifting, the darkside freeing him of the chains of his past. He could feel energy renewed, flowing through him like scolding-hot water from his mouth to the bottom of his belly. Oron dematerialized the blade then, grabbing the apparition by its throat, forcing it under the pond at their feet, maintaining a cold, lifeless gaze as his mother tried desperately to the break the seal of the surface once more to breath- but alas there was only the thrashing of her struggling body as the muffled, deep roars of a rancor-like being sent fist-sized bubbles to the surface until finally....no more.

"Enough Demon!" He lifted a hand near his chest and waved it towards the ground.

The illusion collapsed and Oron opened his eyes to see the smoke demon in a formless shape attempting to enter his body to vaporize him. A Force push from his hand saw the apparition dissipate before him as he tore his second lightsaber from his belt and retrieved his first from the ground. Leaving his buy'ce behind, he felt the agility of a primal, force-imbued beast overtake him as he burst from his position- leaving a rising mushroom of dust in his wake as he moved across the valley in blurs, an unnatural ability to exponentially boost his speed, granted only by means of the Force. Two violet blades weaved through demon after demon as he pushed his body through their broken forms, bearing the heat of their defeated anatomy- completely possessed by the need to eradicate them all.

-It is a pity that Oron could not slay the creature of his vision before age robbed him of the opportunity. He would have to make due with the pretenders.

 

[Bryce Bantam]

Location: 1 km outside Olmondo
Allies: No one?
Enemies: Everyone?
Objective: Save the operative

The topside hatch of the small life pod blows open and Bryce quickly crawls out and down the side of the ship to the ground below.

“We made it, I’m alive!” BB screamed still breathing heavy from the harrowing ride down.

Finding the nearest patch of open ground he begins kissing it frantically promising to never leave it again. With Ruusan erupting into a full blown war zone the luxury transport BB had booked had refused dock and instead intended to leave the system. Before it went back to hyperspace BB had needed to get “creative” to make it planet side and he was now just grateful to be in one piece.

Another loud clank came from life pod as the main hatch falls open to reveal T7-S80 as she rolls out of the wreckage. Cursing up a storm of insults aimed at the pods maker and their mother she rolls over to BB to check on his well being.

“I’m fine Sady, but we still need to work on you landings hun. Anyway let's find a nice shady spot to get our bearings. There's a whole lot of crazy going on and we need to figure out our next move." BB said as the boy and his droid moved toward cover.

 

[Lok Xiangu]

A growl came from the Trandoshan as he was pleased to hear from his Mentor that he had permission to kill anyone on sight that wasn't affiliated with them. Such pleasure the Sith Acolyte would have with slaying these enemies merciless and being rewarded by the Scorekeeper, and this fort seemed to have enough Points for Dagorn to obtain as long as he was the one to kill his enemes. With his allied troops he would race them to get the last saying when killing off a scumbag that occupied the fort. The men, in all truth and honesty, weren't competing Dagorn for Jagannath Points as they were just executing the wishes and orders from their lord, [member="Darth Orcus"]. Nevertheless, the Trandoshan would be quick, precise, and deadly if he wanted to a good catch of Jagganath Points. No, Dagorn was not the team player type because of his lust for blood and greed for Points; however, his promising skills were a great asset for most battles.

The walls and the floor of Fort Nowhere were painted in blood as Dagorn rampaged on his adversaries. His aggressiveness would always leave a fallen opponent disfigured and disoriented making the corpse unrecognizable. His armor was coated with crimson blood as well as the rest of his equipment. After minutes of slaughtering the defenders of the fort Orcus called to him and told him to hurry up the killing. Dagorn only nodded to him as he was hunting the last few defenders of the fort. After brutally killing the remaining few hostiles the reptilian reloaded his weapons and began to salvage ammunition from the corpses of that laid throughout the complex.

As soon as he sufficiently loaded himself the Trandoshan would go the sole tower of the fort where he would snipe the enemy troops with his slugthrower rifle. And with delight.

 

[Haytham Kaze]

Location: Fort Nowhere
Allies: [member="Dagorn"] | [member="Darth Orcus"] |
Enemies: [member="Gulliver Foyle"] | [member="Veris Tagge"]

Haytham, or rather, Vanitas leapt out of the tower, allowing his upper body to tuck into his chest as he rolled onto the ramparts he had been on only a handful of minutes ago. Exhaling, the durasteel helmet that he wore covered his features, but his grey eyes shone brightly, almost furiously as he vaulted over the ledge of the rampart, landing just as the shock troopers started inside to continue the slaughter.

He may have been amongst Sith, but he still wasn't the type to senselessly slaughter others, especially with others around that seemed so keen on doing so. Is it considered cruel to spare the lives of the weak, only so that someone else may kill them? Perhaps, especially if that other person was affiliated with him. Offering a nod to the large Herglic, Vanitas said, "As you command, My Lord," he'd say as he'd step inside the nearest gunship. Palming his lightsabre, Haytham wasn't too keen on heading straight into the heart of the enemy forces.

But if he was going to be a Sith, then he'd make sure to use his allies as best as he could.

He spotted [member="Dagorn"], and he'd wait long enough for the trandoshan to get up the ramp of the ship before he signalled it to lift off.

"I hope there are at least a few soldiers left for us," he'd quietly mutter as he turns away from the ramp, the gunship lifting off and crossing the distance faster than he would've guessed.

Hearing a sound, his ears perked. What was that?

He may not have seen, or known what was going on outside of the ship, but three seismic charges had dropped over the Imperium Forces. Below them, the soldiers likely would've had a brief moment before sound evaporated around them as if they were within the vacuum of space, before various waves of blue light would explode outwards after touching the ground, the deadly concussive waves were fashioned to shatter everything in it's vicinity and wake. Likely the reason the gunship was moving at it's max speed.

This is where we get shot down, I think.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

Location: Valley of the Jedi, Obsidian Compound.
Objective: Breach the structure.
Allies: [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"]
Variable: [member="Sinistra"] | [member="Raziel"]

The air was filled with the screams of the dying, the dead and the neverborn.

Through all of this madness the Dark Lord stayed calm, collected, slightly unhinged and infinitely amused. They moved as one. Her lithe frame using him as a cover (Now he was the guardian, like his sister before him. I remember you. The movements whispered), his hands lashing out - tips of the fingers puncturing through the smokey outlines of the demon-heads. Every demon he touched vanished, its silhouette broken down into its very basic components and cast away on the winds.

It had a price, as things often did.

The charred and burned scent of meat lingering in the air. His fingers blackened, the pain coursing through his bodily system and coloring the hues of his eyes with flashes of red and molten amber.

Pain turned into passion and was channeled into anger.

“A friend of yours?”

Those words brought him the clarity needed. His waking mind had known all along who the instigator was, but the mesmerizing pull of the Nexus had blunted him against that kind of sense.

“Makes me wonder how my enemies would receive me.” the Sith Lord replied with that hint of amusement.

Then he compartmentalized his mind. See, the common man considers their skill of ‘multitasking’ as something tangible and effective, but in reality all they really did was shift their focus from one task to another in such a rapid succession that their mind lumped it all together in show of effort. The average person did not have access to the Force though, or decades of experience with the mind and all the mentalism that comes from it.

The largest presence of his mind was still vehemently focused on the battle itself.

Instinct and training kicked in and started to subvert the efforts of those within the compound. But the conscious mind, the component of amusement instead of rage, singled out that one lingering presence in the field - the tiny knot in the battle from which every tendril of control originated.

“You don’t call… you don’t write, and now you are trying to hurt me and mine. What’s a man to think, my lady Sinistra?”

 

[Arage Bao]

Objective: Strategic Advance In The Opposite Direction.
Location: Obsidian Compound, Ruusan.
Allies: [member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Olivia Durant"]

Calm and collected. She understood the risks, got intimately what kind of poodoo they were in, but was asking what she could do.

Is that pride I am feeling?

“Whatever happens: don’t let yourself get pinned down. Keep moving, that’s going to be-”

Sal’s squad filed out of the armory just then, they didn’t spare a glance at the two Jedi - too busy with the mission ahead, he assumed. The last member, a zeltron female, closed the ranks. Scar-tissue decorated the left of her face and progressively grew worse the lower it got, until it disappeared under layers and layers of armor.

What was her name… Megan, that was it.

"Jedi," Megan gestured, "Let's get out of here before it burns down around our ears, yeah?"

Cole nodded. “Right. We are right behind you.”

Megan nodded back, before turning on her heels and striding away from them, he couldn’t help but notice the huge size of the shotgun slung over her shoulder.

“Time to shine, Durant. Stay close.”

 

[Aver Brand]

Location: Olmondo, Abandoned warehouse
Allies: [member="Darth Adekos"] | The BFFs ([member="Loray Tares"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"])
Enemies: [member="Veris Tagge"]
Gear in bio

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBgp5aDH23g​

It was surprisingly easy to hire good people if you knew what to offer, and the pale capitalist next to her was the sort of man who did. He knew exactly what to offer. The Equalizers thus found themselves in the temporary employ of the Sith Triumvirate. Nevermind that the folks running it would probably be picking their jaws off the floor if they realized who the baton-toting, gun-slinging, foul-mouthed mercs were.

But they didn’t. Moot point.

“No such thing,” she replied with a smile, lost like thousands of others to the oblivion of a helmet.
“Just make sure you foot the bill when we wrap up this mess.”

With two long strides, the tall woman came to stand next to the Sith Lord, observing the burning skyline through the dusty and crack-riddled window. A distant series of booms echoed through the city, shaking the glass in its frame as the sky lit up with missile streaks.

“By the looks of it, it’s going to be a five-figure number. Let’s go.”

With a last nod to the warmachines advancing upon the city, Aver slipped away, lithe as a Ralltiir tiger prowling its natural terrain. Urban sprawl, after all, was her primary hunting grounds; she’d grown up cracking skulls around places like this, and didn’t doubt she would go out in much the same manner.

Live by the sword, die by the sword. Or gun, or grenade, or maybe even the Force. Who the kark knew?

“Stick to me and don’t stick your neck out.”

And then she disappeared into the maze of Olmondo’s streets, cloak billowing behind her.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Location: Ruusan’s Moon, Listening Post.
Allies: [member="Dak Canton"]
Objective: Liberation with a capital L.

Elijah’s personal set of beskar’gam was tailored towards his preferred style of combat: close-quarter encounters mixed with fast paced ambushes and subsequent takedowns. The name of the game was lightweight with a lot of room between the thin plates to allow for maximum movement and speed.

That was his usual set of armor.

But today wasn’t an usual situation. These people knew they were coming, were already shooting at them with clear fire-solutions and not even the greatest of stealth masters would have been able to turn this into an ambush. All of this was known to Eli the moment he took the job and saw the specifics, so he went for his second, less used set.

Heavier, less space between the individual plates, sharkvin underlayer from VT and a lot of integrated weapon systems. In fact, his rifle and the revolver on the belt was the only other separate piece of weapon on his body.

Dak avoided the hissing bolt of plasma, but the next one was a bit more lucky and splashed hard against Elijah’s plate. He grunted whilst the beskar soaked up the damage, microcracks in the sharkvin underlay appeared as they absorbed most of the kinetic energy.

“Avoid the plasma bolt, boys.” the Mando relayed over the comms. “They be hot.”

The jetpack ignited and Elijah was launched into the air, better mobility and the gravitational pull of the moon wasn’t as strong as on Yavin - so he got better height and oversight.

He was also a moving target, drawing fire from four different vectors at once.

Which was mostly the point, because while they focused on the flying Mandalorian wonder, the Sith forces pressed on and advanced their position.

 

[Sinistra]

Location: The Valley
Allies: [member="Raziel"] | Imperium Forces | [member="Eralam"] | [member="Sal Katarn"] | [member="Cole Katarn"] | [member="Olivia Durant"]
Opposition: [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Matsu Xiangu"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"]

Many of the demons fell, their forms dissipated by force while others turned their focus to dissolving their enemies within their nebulous forms, absorbing their souls as she commanded them through a psychic link. However they might try to thin the ranks of the advancing Sith, between the necromantic curse leveled upon the newly dead soldiers and the tides of shades that began to flow through the cracks between the living and undead on the battlefield, her demons would be outnumbered.

Could she conjure wave upon wave of them bolstered by the overwhelming embrace of the nexus in this place? Absolutely. So could her opponents.

What she needed was to clear the plane, and her movements shifted from calling forth siqsa to annihilating the threats to her position. Did she care about collateral damage? Not especially. The main reason she was here was to exercise the ties to the Techno Union that the Imperium had. If TU personnel perished in the onslaught, it was their sacrifice to their government. As long as the Union retained the planet, she had satisfied her obligation. Besides, she was not ordered to save lives. This was a military installation of the Obsidian Order. There were no civilians here.

Pragmatism always.

Had she been unmasked, her eyes would have been glowing through the fog of war; dust, smoke, demonic ichor, and ghosts could not dull the golden fire in her sulfuric gaze. The nexus poured through her like conduit, taking her commands and spells as she unleashed a Force Blast at the oncoming tide of death and charmed flesh. It would destroy her demons alike, however it was unavoidable in taking out the zombies and shades heading for the compound.

It was not without cost and her gloves hand smoked from the burnt flesh she could not feel under thrall of the darkside.

Through her concentration and focus, a voice so comfortably familiar swam through the depths of the nexus' hold on her to take a prominent spot. She could not see Carach down there, but she could hear him and in her mind, she felt him as though he were right in front of her, reaching for her.

<<You bring the One Sith to bear against the Techno Union and wonder why the Imperium would stand between? The com works both ways, love. You never called either.>>

Her sabers remained at her side, her hands free for conjuring while the Force Blast swept through the battle, with a moment to breath, she noticed that the Iron Knight had shown up.

"Ruusan is under attack. I defend."

She had nothing else to say to Eralam at the moment, her attention still on the battle at hand.

 

[Raziel]

LOCATION: Outside Obsidian Compound
OBJECTIVE: Engage opposition, breach the compound.
ALLIES: [member="Darth Carach"] | [member="Seren Ordavo"] | [member="Catalys Maijora"] | [member="Oron Verd"]
ALLIES: [member=Sinistra] | [member=Raziel] | [member="Eralam"]

Spoiler: Equipment

Leaviathan Bracers
Quickfire 2 Holdout
Smart Grenade/Mine Launcher
Cryoban Grenades
Ion Grenades
Sonic Grenades
Thermal Grenades
Splinter Pistol
Lightsabers
Nightshrike Modular Stealth Armour
Back: Probe Droid
Wrist 1: Splinter Knives
Wrist 2: Wrist Blaster
Belt: Personal Cloaking Device

"And you plan a coup on my turf and I don't even get invited to a planning session," Raziel bemoaned quite loudly in the direction of Carach. He could die here, he realised. The maelstrom of power that swirled around the Valley wasn't always there. It reacted to the presence of so many powerful Jedi, who left great wakes in the constant flow of the Force behind them. No plan, genuine risk of death, only his wits and weapons. Raziel hadn't felt this alive since he'd taken on the great Ashin Varanin with a blaster pistol and some improvised traps.

One smooth motion and the smart grenade launched was shouldered. The cryoban round instantly reprogrammed to detonate within one metre before the target in the rangefinder.

Wuump

He doubted anything so crass would pose a genuine threat in the opening exchanges. Still it was a statement of intent and a minor distraction before his keen mind could think of something more interesting to divert the aggressor's attention. He had dabbled in magic and alchemy, with a particular focus on the teachings of the Krath. That seemed worlds away however, when he had been the Headmaster of an old Dark Jedi cult on a remote world. Now he mostly used his skills for spynet. In his field his natural gift for empathy and being able to mimic almost any persona were far more useful than any battlefield skill.

Still, it wasn't as if he'd stopped his saber work.

 

[Bryce Bantam]

Location: Small security station, Olmondo
Allies: Do I even have any?
Enemies: All around buddy, all around...
Objective: Save the operative

The journey into Olmondo was more a game of cat and mouse than an advance. Avoiding getting into open conflict to this point BB and his companions had carefully stayed just behind the attackers as they advanced. Taking refuge in ransacked security post BB stationed "Sady" by the door as a lookout while he took Lass out of his shoulder bag and keyed in her re-activation code.

"Good Morning BB," LASS said cheerfully obviously unaware of the situation they were in.

BB was not amused by the sentiment and held her up to a window with her holo-recorder facing out to the devastated city figuring that image would be worth well more than a thousand words.

"Krak BB, what is going on?" Lass said now witnessing the level of devastation inflicted on Olmondo.

"I don't know, you said this was going to be a simple mission. Just get in, get the girl, and get out. You really didn't go into the whole war zone thing I was going to need to pass through." BB said with his usual teenage angst.

"Well [member="Jorus Merrill"] never said anything about this in his message so it's not my fault." Lass said with an air of annoyance.

"I really don't care who's fault it is, how we gonna get out of this?" BB asked.

"Plug me in kid. Time to go to work." Lass replied.

Finding a working data port BB sliced her in all the while being keenly aware of the omnipresent danger that surrounded them. With any luck BB hoped Lass would be able to work her magic and somehow find a way out of this mess as the alternative was unpleasant and probably would involved his demise.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

​

The Ruusan System

As the battle raged both on and above the planet of Ruusan and its three moons a small force began to assemble around a distant asteroid belt, ships of angular design hearkening back to the olden days of the long forgotten empires of the Sith. Yet despite whatever number of warships milled about the aimless asteroids there was one who loomed above them all, a juggernaut that sluggishly carved a path through the void, brimming with weapon systems that could tear apart entire fleets with but a single volley. It was the Ruination, befouled flagship of the Sith Lord Darth Vornskr, around which milled War Fleet Black Iron. Yet they did not move to engage, nor did they immediately declare their intentions to either side in the conflict. Rather they kept their distance, watching with hungering eyes shackled by a mind who's patience belied the brutality he was capable of inflicting.

The bridge of the Ruination was a whirl of officers and technicians rushing about in the shadow of a great and mighty throne carved from a hunk of black iron, and upon it sat the wicked Sith Lord himself. His eyes beheld everything that was arrayed before him, and even beyond the stars to the distant planet he could sense lifeforms moving about, fighting, killing, dying. It was amusing at how the might of the Techno Union could be beset by these faithless brigands, these opportunistic heathens. Yet even as the thought crossed his mind he knew that it was hypocritical, for was not he also here because of such opportunity? The power of the Union waned in the galactic south, and should that bastion crumble the Empire in the Core would have no one to rely upon in that vast swath of space. And so he had come, mostly by his own volition and somewhat by the urging of the council to establish an alliance with a new state, looking an opportunity.

After what seemed like an hour of deliberation he finally spoke, "Dispatch the probes. Find me Ardik." A simple command for a simple task, and while there had been no visual confirmation that [member="Darth Adekos"] was actually in the system at the time, the Sith Lord always had an uncanny trait of finding those he once shared camaraderie with. And so a multitude of probes were launched from the Ruination, streaming across the blackness of space like comets to eventually crash down across the system.

And it would be only a matter of time until Vornskr located what he desired.

 

[Veris Tagge]

Allies: [member="Raziel"] [member="Sinistra"] [member="Gulliver Foyle"] The TU forces The Imperium forces
Enemies [member="Haytham Kaze"] [member="Aver Brand"] [member="Darth Orcus"]
Objective: Pew Pew
5

Three massive plums of energy ignited before the formation enveloping the force in aural energy. The shielding of Bahumat rippled slightly as the wave of energy washed over it. Below him he knew his forces would survive but they were not as well equipped as Bahamut and the wave from the from the charges would be affecting them somewhat. They were equipped with the gear for just this situation but the powerful blasts always had some effect and could never be fuller defended against outside being shielded as Bahamut was. The blasts disapated and anger filled Veris. "Two can play this game!" he said out loud to no one in general knowing his crew would ignore him. The reached up and grabbed the targeting parascope and pulled it down. IN the diatance Sith forces were landing and moving to enguage. He looked at the range indicater and cursed. "Still seven thousand meters to go for range" He scrolled to a second weapon system which was in range targeted a landing craft setteling down. The Heavy Turbolaser cannons decended into position and with a press of the trigger control on the parascope the massive cannon let lose a charged botl of energy. The three heavy siege walkers had seen the same opening and they each began firing their heavy particle beams out at the Sith forces deploying in the distance. He opened up a channel and selected a comm laser channel to the escrot sloops. "Captain Moore, We have some probelms with the top. Can you and your forces move in and support?" said Tagge. The voice of the Sloop squadron commander spoke with a little too much spite for his tastes "Of course Colonel, We have will abandon the grav sled and come help you out." said the human on the other end of the channel. Veris scolled to himself but could not say anything. The man was not under his direct command. The Sloops had escorted them in and now were attempting to escort the sled back to orbit. IF they lost it the Bahamut would not be able to leave the planet until one could be brought in. That was important but if these gunships comeing down witht he sith forces swarmed Bahamut sled would be useless anyway."Please do Captain, your support is paramount with the tactical situation currentlly. We will take our chance witht he sled later" said Veris as he lined up a second shot of the heavy turbolaser cannon.

Below him the smaller walkers were recovering from the blast and its effects. The crews had been shielded but the massive power of the blasts had still effected them. The assault transports would have gotten the worse of it. Veris was sure many of the assault troops in thier hulls would be incapacitated. The had full environmental sealed and shielded armor but the massive orbital plasts were far too powerful. Something would have to be done about them but that would be up to the force in space. Tagge sent a wide laser beam to the tactical walkers updating the chrono timers and adjusting for the situtation
One of the walkers slumped and stood still for a moment too long and then slugishly fell over. Something must have happened inside the hull of the craft. Tagge made a not for the engineers to recover the walker and have a full investigation done as to what happened and why. The remaining walkers began moving with the larger walkers The ordinance walkers looked skyward ad began tracking the incoming dropships and gunships now moving to enguage, A moment later each fired two fletchette missiles at the incoming craft. The missiles speeding off towards the craft leaving whispy trails behind them. Tagge turned his attanetion back to the parascope watching the siege walkers pounding the forces landing in the distance with a steady barrage of fire from their partice beam cannons, then depressed the trigger sending out another bolt of fire from the heavy turbolaser.

Spoiler

22nd Heavy Assault Battalion.
Bahamut - AT-HA Walker
* 3 AT-SE Walkers
* 3 HAVw A10 juggernaut -
* 520 assault troops
* 7 AT-TA Walkers remaining
Dual Repeater Cannon Sponsons and Immolator Sponsons
* 8 AT-TA Walkers
Dual Ordinance Sponsons
* 3 HMTa-v2 Long Bow

 

[Alkesh Vizsla]

Objective: Strategic Advance In The Opposite Direction.
Location: Obsidian Compound, Ruusan.
Allies: [member="Cole Katarn"] | [member="Sal Katarn"]

Somewhere in her mind she registered the scarring on the Zeltron's face and further as she admonished them on the way by. But it was more clinical - a way to identify her among the thousands on a battlefield, to separate her from the blur. Beyond that it meant little to Olivia. She just nodded both to Megan and Cole, too distracted by the sudden nervous tightening in her stomach to truly answer either.

Stay calm. Being nervous won't help anyone here that needs you.

Self-talk acknowledged, she set off after the merc group, keeping in step with the Knight. Though he edged her out by a few inches her long legs made it easy to keep the pace. Or maybe that was just a positive by-product of nerves turned around to good use.

At first everything was as normal as could be for a compound under siege, the misleadingly muted rumble of an explosion outside shaking the dust from old corners, the lights flickering almost imperceptibly. The team was quiet save for the metallic clink of their weapons against the hard surface of their vests, the solid thunk of boots on the ground. It might have been their only true moment to breathe before poodoo hit the fan, and Olivia took it gladly.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head nothing was there.

"OooLIVia!..."

This time it came from the right, dashing in the corner of her eye and whispering something like her name in the wind before vanishing from sight. Though no one seemed to react as if they'd seen it too, the atmosphere was rapidly growing more cloying. Not wanting to cause undue alarm, she turned to look at Cole, something like worry tugging at her expression.

 

[Gulliver Foyle]

Objective: Fort Nowhere
Allies: [member="Veris Tagge"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Orcus"]

The terrain on Ruusan did not favor large, fast moving vehicles.

That was why Gulliver had opted not to bring any- that, and the fact that he doubted he'd have been given the things, after the assault speeders had been denied. The Imperium favored slow, lumbering walkers anyway. The heavy beasts were ill suited for blitzkrieg tactics, but they could handle all but the roughest terrain with the same plodding disinterest that they considered a flat plane.

Gulliver hadn't brought any of those either. The goal had been to get forces to Fort Nowhere before the enemy had a chance to invest heavily in the campaign, and keeping up with the damn things was too much of a chore for most light infantry. It involved walking slowly around the largest target in sight, and that was something they just didn't like to do. In the broken, uneven terrain, foot soldiers were faster, if not quite as indefatigable.

Instead, he had opted for a more flexible response to enemy armored vehicles: sappers.

Sappers were the elite of the combat engineer world. In ancient times, they had been the brave bastards that would tunnel under enemy fortifications to allow troops inside the castle walls. The tactic actually gave birth to the word "undermine", and though they hadn't contributed any other useful words to the lexicon in recent memory, their prowess was undiminished.

Today, rather than wielding picks and shovels, the sappers carried all kinds of specialized explosives. They could plan an emergency demolition with a glance. They could sabotage airfields and bases on the fly. They were, in the truest sense of the phrase, force multipliers. A handful of sappers could make a friendly force orders of magnitude more effective while reducing the enemy's effectiveness by a similar margin.

By now, the carbonite clouds had descended into a deep, nearly impenetrable fog bank. The air itself, though not as frigid as it had been in the higher altitudes, was still quite dangerous. Any trooper who removed their helmet would find themselves asphyxiated in short order. Fortunately, there wasn't a military in the galaxy that didn't give their troopers the means with which to survive in such conditions, at least temporarily. The helmet was as standard a piece of kit as a blaster these days. They would be fine, so long as they kept buttoned up.

With visibility next to zero, however, they relied more on their equipment than ever.

Topographical maps of the area, provided by their TU allies, allowed the troops on foot to take paths that vehicles wouldn't have been able to traverse, not without significant engineering support of their own. In the grey gloom, it was slow, painstaking work, but they managed. There was plenty of whinging over squad nets, as it was the prerogative of lower enlisted to complain about everything from chow to getting shot at, but they persevered.

The sappers, meanwhile, had a little fun. Mines were planted along probable avenues of approach. Cratering charges left gaping holes in the most inconvenient (from the point of view of anyone looking to haul ass in a vehicle larger than a swoop bike) areas. A favorite tactic was to drive a small thermal detonator several meters under the ground and set it off. The ensuing blast would scoop out a section of the earth, leaving a thin crust over the top, making it look like solid ground. Anything larger than a small mammal would find themselves breaking through and plummeting to their, if not demise, then at least surprise.

It might seem odd to use cratering charges against repulsorlift vehicles, but it made a great deal of sense after a little thought. Most would not want to fly too high, or else risk on giving up the element of surprise and leaving themselves open to fire. Staying low to the ground usually meant terrain following sensors. A sudden hole opening up underneath at speed would, in all likelihood, case the vehicle to drop like a rock. When too much mass travelling too quickly met the ground, the results were usually catastrophic. Even if the vehicle itself survived, the crew would likely be in rougher shape. And of course the mines would blast shaped charges upwards into the hulls of the vehicle, the self-forging copper projectiles capable of slicing through all but the thickest of armor with ease.

Of course, it was always possible that the enemy would favor the sort of heavy walkers that the Imperium loved so much, but Gulliver doubted it. Not for a fight like this.

At this point, mortar squads had reached their presurveyed points, and were sighting in the short, stubby weapons. They knew they would be prime targets once the battle kicked off, so they did their best to make the enemy's job that much more difficult. The steep angle of fire allowed them to hide in all sorts of clever little nooks and crannies. They could fire from behind boulders, or from gullies and crags. A few of them were even smart enough to bring cratering charges of their own, and blasted makeshift foxholes into the terrain.