Your Faith In Your Friends Is Yours | TSE Invasion of TRA Held Gree Hex

[Arage Bao]

Location: Satikan, Capital of Asation
Objective: Draw attention
Allies: TSE, [member="Darth Caecus"]
Enemies: TRA, Open to Interaction

It had taken a lot out of him to say what he had said.

To bring it out in the open.

From the moment the words were loose something inside of him tensed up and waited for the eventual blow to happen. This is our life, Luca. It was silly to try and stay away from it. Isn't this what we do best? More and more options hovering through his mind. He knew, somewhere, that it was all silly. Luca knew Kith better than most people would... and somewhere he knew that she didn't think like that.

But that didn't ease the worries.

A nod followed when she pushed back hard and reaffirmed their... feelings. "I love you." Luca murmured over their connection. He knew it wasn't the time for it, nor the place, but knowing that Kaine was here?

Knowing he had just put doubt into the equation with his concerns?

It was the only thing Luca could say. Press enter to continue. He slammed his hand into the controls and then there was silence. One second, two seconds, as the signals passed through the fast-connection routes. Then- alarms would start to sound throughout the terminals of law enforcement agencies in the city. Many of them, all located throughout the city and with different markers.

That way different rankings wouldn't encounter one another at once and realize the illogical nature of it all.

"Done." Luca said before pushing himself off the console. "Within the next five minutes every officer, sergeant and grunt will be reacting to ghost assignments through the cities."

That would give [member="Darth Carnifex"] enough room to maneuver and finish whatever they were doing.

 

[Jairus Starvald]

​

YAMMKA FLEET
[member="Darth Ophidia"]

Cerbera was no admiral.

Not a tactician who knew how to best employ ships to operate them most effectively. This was something she was okay with, one sentient couldn't be a master of every discipline out there. This was the sole reason why she remained silent when everything around them exploding into activity. Ophidia calling out orders, those with them nodding and executing them by specification.

Until Ophidia and Cerbera were alone.

The alchemist stared through the viewport, watching with fascination as the Xiphos suddenly warped into view. It had already accelerated. Its sudden appearance threw the Rebel fleet into confusion.

Why was it coming right at them? What was it doing? What should they do except return heavy fire?

"These are the moments I dislike using starships, darling." Cerbera murmured. Trying to ignore the hair rising on her skin, because there was literally nothing that she could do right there and then. "I feel useless." That admission was more difficult than the alchemist had considered it would be. But it was the truth. What was one Lord of the Sith against the cold void of space and dozens upon dozens of starships moving through it?

The chaos left in the wake of the Xiphos' passage allowed Yammka Fleet to pass on through.

There were casualties... there always were, ships exploding and being caught in the randomized fire, but Cerbera didn't care- couldn't. They had gone through and already the blur of white-streaked blues were starting to appear against their viewports.

"What will we find on Gree, do you think, Ophi?"

No communication at all with the Sith forces there.... nothing. Maybe they were escaping one threat just to hyperspace into another.

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Yammka Fleet
[member="Cerbera"]

​

Chaos - Stillness

Darth Ophidia wished she had been on the bridge of the Xiphos at this moment, but at the same time relished in the chance at watching the ship the Sith Empire, her Sith Empire, had constructed in its moment of glory. She had envisioned this moment for years, ever since she was put on the dark council of the Sith Assassins and observed the discourse of their plan, through the years and the construction, to this one moment.

Her burning eyes were set upon the dotted horizon, a lump in her throat and her heart beating one fraction quicker than before. She had almost given the ship another name: Darkshear. That name rung in her ears when she saw the enormous blade of a ship accelerate like a shikkar, then impact. Pieces of ship parted, she could almost hear the scream of metal on metal as the phrik prow ploughed through. Not like a shikkar - more like a spear of midnight black, as envisioned.

Yammka pushed through, and Darth Ophidia looked at the woman next to her. Her heart grew still again, though yet ever so slightly more engaged than when she was on her own. The green woman was a mantis, beautiful and terrible like the void, treacherous as a star, stronger than the gravitational pull of the galactic center itself.

And here she was confessing to feel powerless.

"They do lack the personal touch" She wondered about designs she had seen, ones she never truly understood, but that the dark lords of the ancient empires utilised to wield their power in moments such as these.

Her train of thought was cut by another question.

"I expect we shall find war." "And I expect we shall find a struggle that defines the future of the Empire."

Were they merely the end of old things? Or the dawn that blinded those that dared see into the sun- The fire that scorched the earth like the sun of Rattatak- The Empire that would stand for a thousand rotations, as the Sith had always dreamed. The eclipse.

She looked into the corrupted eyes of the Sith Lord next to her, a smile curling the edges of her purple lips, wickedness in her eyes. She reached up and traced a finger under Cerbera's chin.

 

[Cenric Marus]

Exact Location: RAS Defiance - Acerbitas Support Ship
Enemies: [member="Tehkyram"]
Allies: Rebel Alliance

His grenade had hit home...but it didn't really help him much. The inside of a starship was small, smaller than anyone really liked, and the bulk of the space ahead of him was completely taken up by the massive alien standing in front of him. To make it worse the monster slashed and hacked at everything that moved, slicing into the ground and cutting the ceiling. Sparks flew, slagged and molten metal began to drip off of everything. The troopers behind him broke away, running fast.

Cenric didn't blame them.

The Padawan's lightsaber flicked forward, he was out of reach but there was no way of attacking the Alien either. If he got any closer the Sith would slice him to bits, the powerful strokes of the lightsaber being too much for him to catch without significant effort. He frowned, glancing down to the fallen rebel. "Stop!"

He shouted towards the Sith, his free hand reaching out towards the downed soldier. His fingers wrapped around a blaster, pulling back and aiming at the shark.

It was a pitiful sight.

"We don't have to fight." It was worth a shot. "You can surrender!"

 

[Avoim Oeymo]

Location: Asation
Enemies: The Sith Empire and their Allies, [member="Darth Carnifex], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Taeli Raaf"], [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]
Allies: The Rebel Alliance and Their Allies, [member="Varex"]
Objective: Initial: Distract Enemy ships for allied dropships to launch and land; Primary: Land forces for ground combat.​

Avoim watched as the last of his troop transports landed, his StealthX idling just behind the walls of the prefabricated base, make shift walls already being put up by the troops of the 212th attack batallion. His lightsaber hung from his belt as he walked the perimeter. He was only given orders so far to set up a base of operations and aide those in the other attacking groups as well as to be a fall back or staging area for the duration of this invasion. He itched for combat, itched to help the Rebellion grow itself and defeat the Empire and the Sith.

Avoim also knew for a fact that the Sith would not let the fact that the Jedi Master had set up a base go unmolested for long. The hood of his sleeveless robe hung to the top of his head tightly as he began to sweat from the humidity of the planet. Luckily Jedi robes breathed well, or at least the ones he wore did, and he was able to get some safety from the heat that this swamp planet brought. Walking over to the commander of his troops he pulled his hood down slowly, his eyes strong as ever.

“After the basic defenses are set up, I want you to establish a rest area and a patrol system for the base, a place that can be cooled better with cold drinks there should be enough for now, hopefully we won’t need to call the Hope back to resupply our food and drink.” Giving a small smile to the commander as he cut a sharp salute the Jedi jumped atop the prefabricated base and pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon in one of the suspected directions of enemy egress.

 

[Atlas Kane]

Inside a different Hangar
Serving the Sith Empire with [member=Darth Arabris], [member=Amun], [member=Ras Val'kor], [member=Garen Kalkat], [member=Vanessa Vantai] and [member=Nixia Amabilia]
To eliminate the Rebel Alliance, [member=Judas Foster], [member=Julian Valentine], [member=A'lah The Green One], and to capture [member=The Slave]


The tremors disturbing the ship caused the Sith to stop momentarily so as to not lose his balance. Their intensity was far greater than predicted. The fleet's goal was to disable the ship, make it unable to defend itself so that it and all of its contents may be taken for the Sith. That shock to the ship felt far more like serious damage, however, rather than the superficial destruction of easily replaced parts. Atlas' brows furrowed beneath his mask as he contemplated what might have transpired. From the way it felt the impact seemed to have originated around the bridge. Perhaps one of the uninformed commanders decided to concentrate fire there in order to kill whoever was in charge? Take off the dragon's head and its body went limp. A sound strategy under any other circumstances, but in this case taking off the dragon's head could have resulted in killing the Sith's own troops, which should have been apparent, given the Sith transports invading the Technicolor Beat's hangar bay.

With any luck, it was simply a missed shot, operator's error, rather than a fundamental tactical one. Only time would tell. For the moment his thoughts returned to the mission at hand. The Slave was right before him, preparing to launch a mission against the admiral in command of the Sith forces. He wished to board their vessel and fight his way through to the bridge in order to give the Beat and its escorts a fighting chance. Perhaps it was stress or perhaps it was simply misguided arrogance, but Atlas had his doubts that such a plan would have changed the outcome of a battle like this. Nonetheless, he came along to the other hangar, still pretending to be on The Slave's side, simply waiting for a moment to strike. Should their actions really lead them onto the Sith ship, then it would be even easier to capture him. Surrounded by his enemies and with a dagger in his back, Atlas doubted even the Slave could find his way out of such a hopeless situation. Yes, that would be when he struck.

When they finally reached the hangar he looked around, searching for any signs of an ambush under the pretence of gazing at the myriad of ships assembled. Aside from a few droid patrols, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary for a situation like this. He waited as the other Epicanthix worked the controls of a computer to ready a boarding craft for them to use. It would be sufficient in bringing them to the other ship. The tricky part would be to alert the commander of the vessel not to shoot them down while still making it appear as though a defence was being mounted. A telepathic message perhaps, but that would have to come once they were on their way and Atlas could get a sense of which craft's bridge was the one he would have to focus his efforts on.

"Yes." The Slave's question had made him snap out of his thoughts. There was no more time to think of his next steps, the final part of his plan was set in motion.

"Cybele, open the blast doors for John and me if you would be so kind. We have an admiral to kill." Moments later the massive sheets of metal began parting to reveal the scene of battle outside the hangar.

---

Special Operations Team Wo, boarding the Technicolor Beat
Serving with the Sith Empire under direct orders of the SIth-Imperial military and supervision by Sith Atlas Kane
To Eliminate the Rebel Alliance by destroying the AI Core


The slicing process took a few minutes, but eventually, the airlock's doors opened and after a short pressurisation protocol the Sith-Imperial Team had access to the ship. The corridor immediately beyond the airlock was empty and quiet. A little too quiet for the leader's tastes. He ordered his team to proceed carefully and in a defensive formation, yet they kept a brisk pace to their advance. The more time they wasted going corridor to corridor the more time the ship's AI had to prepare a proper counter to their attack.

They made good progress towards their target for a while, sticking to the shorter, more easily defensible corridors. Yet when their path made clear they had to take the longer, wider halls, their speed slowed. These halls had fewer pieces of cover and were far more open. If they weren't careful an ambush could wipe them out rather easily. While the lack of any resistance so far had been somewhat disconcerting, their team had kept their resolve and remained calm, able to push creeping paranoia and relief away. They remained alert all the way through to the next hall, one that stood entirely empty with various doors leading down a multitude of branching pathways. Their nav-com showed them the correct door, however. One that was positioned on the other side of the long hallway. As such the team moved that way.

About half-way through the room, Monte's voice broke the monotonous 'clear's that had been repeated over the last few moments. "Sir, I think I've found a workaro-" With a thunderous choir his voice was drowned out, however, as two rotary cannons suddenly descended from the ceiling, filling the air with rounds.

Two of the team were immediately cut down by the fire, another severely wounded as the rounds cleaved her leg clean off while she was attempting to dodge out of the way. For a moment the team seemed as though it would be wiped out by this gunfire, but a half-sphere suddenly encompassed them, causing hundreds of rounds to bounce off harmlessly.

"Ben, I need you to pick up Morg's disruptor, Ceth, you'll distract the gun. Take out the gun behind us, the rest of you, concentrate your fire on the other one. The shield's not gonna last much longer. Get ready."

Acknowledgements came from the entire team as seconds turned to hours. The loud prattling of bullets against the shield as the muffled groans of pain from the injured soldier came over the comms seemed to continue for aeons until from one moment to the next the dome of the shield began dissolving with the rest soon following. The moment it did the remaining operatives sprang to action, the team leader and his group concentrated their blaster fire on the turret before them in near-perfect synchronicity, while the Ben leapt out from behind Ceth for the disruptor rifle while the latter rolled in the opposite direction. Three quick shots from the rifle followed only moments after the start of the other team's gunfire as the sounds of battle filled the room.

 

[Ras Val'kor]

​

Objective: Conquer | Survive
Allies: [member="Garen Kalkat"] | [member="Atlas Kane"]
Enemies: [member="The Slave"] | [member="Judas Foster"]
Engaging Directly: [member="Julian Valentine"]

All clear, at least for now.​

​

Iprotis glanced at his shoulder - scorched flesh and shattered armor, yet there was no pain. A body brought back to life with a beating yet decrepit heart, pumping out turgid ichor in the place of human blood. It was a slow process, but as time would go on, the vessel would slowly succumb to the corrupting properties of Sith magics and alchemy. A deal with the devil made symbolic and befitting through crimson spilled out of spite and murder. ​

​

This was the fate of an eternity - hell itself. The mind and body a prison for Ras Val'kor, a place where he could be fully aware of the blood falling upon what were shoulders and hands. His life was now hidden behind a curtain of red, a place where only nightmares and damnation are present to remind one of their failures and flaws. For every moment that Iprotis wrought terror and death, Ras could see it. Feel it.​

​

He could even almost smell the ashes.​

​

Yet there was nothing that could be done. He had tried to struggle, tried to fight the influence that the demon held over him. But to no avail.​

​

The rot had set in, and it desired all; putrefying soul and mind alike, festering the morals and once proud uprising of a man whom believed he could be better than what he was offered in life. Even with the actions that had changed both history and reputation for himself forevermore, even with the stains of atrocity bringing nothing but shame and isolated thoughts of suicide.​

​

He believed, yet it was not strong enough. Evidence that the Sith were more than darkly clad sorcerers with an ego, but a people that bordered on the margin of godhood. They were they ones that had brought Iprotis into this realm, and here he intended to remain. Rewriting and undoing the work of a broken man. ​

​

Existing only to spite and dash blood across the horizon. To see the warmth and light of the sun made cold and black like death. ​

​

As Iprotis continued his struggle through the confines of the Techicolor Beat, he was met with an unexpected audience of men and women rushing in his direction. He opened fire, expending a succession of blaster bolts upon the unidentified group of possible assailants. There was no way to be positive, so shooting first and asking questions later was ideal. Paying no further heed to the now limp, smoldering corpses, the agent advanced into the direction they had come from. ​

​

As he moved carefully, something caught Iprotis' eye. A man donning a peculiar helmet just several feet ahead. With a twirl of his heavy blaster, he extended his arm outward with a steadied hand, keeping a consistent aim. ​

​

He uttered no words, only a stillness as other events transpired all around throughout the ship.​

​

It was time for someone to make a move.​

 

[WolfMortum]

​

​

Objective: Survive.​

Starfighter: ETA-4 Interceptor.​

Supporting: The Rebel Alliance.​

Opposition: Alkor Centaris.​

​

​

​

Veiere scowled under his breath as things continued to work against him, this Mandalorian that he had encountered was not at all in the mood for discussion and the weapon that he carried, this bolter or high profile blaster carried enough momentum to punch a hole through him if he were to lower his guard. Another shot was fired at him in protect of Veiere's attempt to avoid further conflict, the projectile screaming out of the barrel and forcing the Exile to act least it take his head off.

Around him the Force surged to Veiere's will, the energy of all life around them being drawn in to strengthen his physical reflexes, his reaction timing and his speed in mobility. His Lightsaber became a blur as he once again moved to attempt to block the shot, though Veiere himself darted sideways as the second shot was soon fired off towards an innocent bystander within sight of them. He failed to melt down the first, the second being caught just in time by the edge of his blade, enough to throw it off it's trajectory and slam into the wall of the structure his fighter had crashed through, the single round punching a hole through the permacrete exterior and burying itself within the inner layer of stone and cement.

He heard the third shot, though didn't see it coming. The wind whipped up passed his head as the round missed him entirely. Time itself seeming to slow as confusion and misunderstanding filled that single moment before the heat and force struck Veiere; a concussive wall of air reaching him before the fire and smoke could follow from the explosive force that had been his Starfighter. Chaos overtook him, throwing him some meters to the ground and digging up all manner of rubble as he was sent rolling across the ground, his robe in flames, skin already feeling the pain of burning while Veiere desperately sought to rid himself of his exterior layer leaving him only the tunic and the smell of burned hair and flesh. He'd never been much of a looker but now the left side of his neck and cheek were a shiny red and pink where the blood had been burned dry. His left arm and side seering with steam and smoke, the fabrics that had been protected by his robe still singed and darkened.

He found himself on his feet once again, though gritted teeth and a much colder glare accompanied the hitch in his step, so too evidence of his pain and the Mandalorian's advantage. There would be no invisible hand cast upon his opponent yet, instead the image of Veiere himself seemed to fade before the eyes of [member="Alkor Centaris"], the smoke and dust that lay upon the air from the explosion of the starfighter offering further cover as the Exile sought to cloak himself within the Force long enough to get closer to his opponent. His mobility hindered by his injuries and this Mandalorian certainly not weak of mind, every precious second counted.

Should his opponent not be able to see through the facade that Veiere had raised about himself, should his camouflage within the Force give him the appropriate time, the moment his shield of sight would drop, would too be the moment that his left hand reached out to take the Mandalorian by the shoulder. It was with that contact, Veiere sought to draw upon his enemies strength to make it his own. The attempt was something of a gamble, for he knew not his opponent though the rejuvenated strength would not only seek to heal his wounds but hopefully give his body the energy needed to counter such a younger and experienced warrior.

 

[Koda Fett]

OBJECTIVE: Secure Gree Technology Capture Miner
ALLIES: The Sith Empire
ADVERSARIES: The Rebel Alliance, [member="Amea Virou"]

His booted feet slid across the dirt and crushed the gravel beneath him with each step taken forwards. Both hands firmly gripped the Carbine within his grip. The eyes beneath the T-Visor scanned each area ahead of him with laser precision, entirely unwilling to allow anything get by him. The helmet allowing the hyper-vigilant figure to remain as such with amplified senses of the individual. Nothing was to get by him, of that he was absolutely certain. Not a doubt remained within his mind.

The Mandalorian had become immediately aware of the rapid sound of feet colliding with the dirt beneath them. Although, at sound of the very first boot touching the ground he began to turn in an intensely rapid motion. His form lowered, dropping to a knee and unleashed a barrage of Stun Bolt rounds, not in a panic but in an attempt to entirely immobilise someone. Fett didn't take chances, that was for sure.

It was oh so very difficult to catch the Bounty Hunter by surprise.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The inferno that screamed out at the opponent's flank threatened to overwhelm his Heads Up Display as he watched it take, but Alkor faced the blast nonetheless. He didn't need thermals to see [member="Veiere Arenais"] careening to the dirt, bruised and bloodied. Alkor watched the man scrape himself off the ground laboriously, and knew he had done a great deal of damage, even if his opponent took it with a stoic face.

The expression that he saw on the man did dispel one misjudgement. A Jedi would never give himself over to those emotions entirely. He reached back and clipped the rifle to his armor, and when he withdrew his hand from behind himself, he took the hilt of his blade in a firm grip.

"Fierfek," he cursed under his breath as the Not-Jedi began to unsubstantiate, as if he had never been there at all. The Mandalorian understood inherently what was happening, and yet, his sensors would never be able to find his opponent given the extreme temperatures of the world around them. It was the perfect time for such a maneuver.

The sinister hiss of his weapon as it left the sheath, as well as the crackle of Ultrachrome as ice formed across it was the best response Alkor had. His reaction time would have to be judged by what he could see, rather than what his armor did. That suited him just fine.

That was what being Mandalorian was all about.

It was seconds later that not a blow landed, but a cold touch. He felt the firm grip on his shoulder plate, but the sensation was very similar to lightheadedness. He had no connection to the Force with which to feel exactly what was happening. He just knew he felt suddenly tired, like all the world around him threatened to spin out of control and fade to black.

He did not wait for that to happen.

Alkor reached up with his right hand toward where he could feel the Force Adept touching him, and he grabbed forward to grip at where he believed the man would be standing. If he wanted to get anything from Alkor, he would have to pay for it.

At the same time, Centaris drove his blade forward, intent on impaling the offender on the business end of the frigid blade. A Cold Heart for a Cold Hand.

Fair trade.

 

[Bernard]

Industrial Sector, Construction Zone
Serving the Rebel Alliance with [member=Wyatt Morga]
Defending against [member=Vestille Thumahra]


The figures gathered below attempted to scatter, but the debris fell too fast. Soon enough the entire street below was littered with massive chunks of rock and iron. Ash and dust rose to cover the scene, cries of pain and groans echoed through the street as it was engulfed in a brown-grey mass of stone mist that slowly rose upwards. There was no telling how many he'd hit, but the group was in disarray, no doubt most of them would be either dead or wounded. Bernard assumed they would stay out of the coming fight, too preoccupied with licking their own wounds to kill any more innocents. They would perish, but many others would live because of it.

Even as their voices filled the street below, the Jedi's resolve steeled. For a few moments, he breathed heavily. A feat like the one he'd performed did not come without its toll on the body. He would require rest, at least for several moments as he recovered from the strain he'd put upon himself. The rebreather made inhaling and exhaling with more force an unfamiliar experience, but he adjusted to it. With each deep intake of air, he let the Force wash over his body to cleanse the exhaustion in his muscles. Despite the moral implications of his actions, he forced his thoughts into the back of his mind, focusing entirely on his breathing and the relief the Force provided. The time to worry about what he'd done would come later, for now all that mattered was the quiet wheezing of breath passing the filtration system of the mask.

A quiet beeping noise interrupted his brief meditation. The comlink on his arm flared up with a message from the central Rebel holdout inside the capital building. They were requesting a check-in of all Rebel forces on Gree, no doubt in response to all the Sith activity. He tapped his comlink once and spoke into it.

"This is Jedi Knight Bernard. I believe I've dealt with some of the elements causing all this destruction. Heading back to the Capital Building now."

His expression shifted from impassive to somewhat tensed as he looked down at the cloud of dust slowly settling in the street below. The soldiers there would either be dissuaded from continuing or significantly delayed by his actions. In either case, it would allow for the evacuations to proceed with fewer problems hindering progress. Yet, despite that knowledge he couldn't help but linger at the sight, something felt off. The intent to kill had vanished from those on the street, but it hadn't gone away. The feeling he got indicated that the intent had simply shifted, become more focused. He couldn't shake the feeling of danger racing towards him.

He was about to attempt to investigate this sudden shift more closely when he heard footsteps from a nearby stairwell. Someone had survived and that someone was now coming to exact their revenge. Perhaps it was the will of the Force. Perhaps it wished to confront him with the murders he'd committed.

He drew that familiar silver hilt from beneath his robes and waited as the footsteps grew louder, his expression emotionless.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

Staring down a traitor, questioning aggression...

Allies: [member="Judas Foster"] │ [member="Julian Valentine"] │ @Faye │ @A'lah The Green One
Foes: [member="Ras Val'kor"] │ [member="Atlas Kane"] │ [member="Darth Arabris"] │ @Amun │ [member="Nixia Amabilia"] │ [member="Garen Kalkat"] │ [member="Adrian Vandiir"] │ [member="Vanessa Vantai"]

It took only a moment for the massive Daedalus reactors to restore power to the operative systems, but by then they’d already come under fire from the rear. As the Defoliation moved above it, two autocannons fired against the tail end of the custom Mepherium. The first flared the shields, while the second broke the weaker rear shielding and sent a shot directly into one of the main ion drives that kept the beat moving.

Although physically impossible, Cybele could feel herself cringe as mobility was quickly beginning to fail. The ship wasn’t known for its ability to stay maneuverable, but if there was any time to maintain it; it was now. Server towers roared to life as the dynamic clocking of her system went into overdrive, running as many possible reroutes as possible to maintain the ship’s power.

Towards the front, fire had been focused entirely on the hellbore; likely to disable them before they were able to enact judgement of their own. The heavy lasers lit the sky with a green hazard, a light that spoke a thousand words of its development, but three of the four did little more than bring the shields to life. The fourth however, found its target as the shields fell once more; only to reignite just after.

The front end gatling mechanism of one of the hellbores had been irreversibly damaged, snapping its outside frame and sending it into the first; making it completely useless for the rest of the battle, something that would have helped if it was able to be maintained. Still, as the various elements of the enemy fleet took advantage of the Technicolor Beat’s solidarity, it had its own reputation to maintain.

The simplest choice was to destroy command, and that is exactly what Cybele intended to do. With the Pluton Class set directly in its sights, the Daedalus reactors moved to overdrive as seven heavy hellbores, and nearly twenty hypervelocity cannons took advantage of its lack of shields. The former fired massive proton torpedos meant to maim fleets, each enough to take out a corvette, amplified only by the fact that two were shot per second, per weapon, equalling 14 every second that they continued to fire. As far as the other, it fired a single large slug for each cannon; a weapon often put on the ground for shooting down battleships that got too close to a planet. The armor piercing warheads flew through the endless expanse of space at lightning fast speed, looking to maim armor and inject their payload deep inside the enemy’s vessel; followed by the detonation of radiation bombs throughout the interior.

For the one above, Cybele took advantage of its EWAR advantage, letting The Twin’s find access to the enemy systems, and bring down the shields. Not permanently, but only for a moment as each would fire half their payload of HELIX missiles into its underside; hoping to trade blows. Although it wouldn’t compare to the damage sustained by the Beat thus far, it was all she could do while a plan was formed.

Cybele only hoped she had enough time for John to do whatever it was he wished to do.

---

The Slave’s fingers slid across the console as the ship before him began to run through its initial startup processes. The sound of whirring engines and spooling jets filled the room as the sickening hum of ion engines the ears; something The Slave never found comforting. They spoke to him of war, of inevitable conflict, and despite how well he flourished in such environments, it was conflict that tired him now. Dragged him to the depths, stressed him, and threatened his entire kingdom now.

Some of this was his own fault, but he still refused to admit that.

The doors began to slide open to the hangar, garnering his attention for a moment before a quiet message came through his headset;

“It took some time, John, but I found out how they found us…”, a whisper crept through.

“It was Atlas, John. A location beacon is built into his ship.”

The Slave paused for a moment as a small sense of dread overcame him. Atlas and him had known each other for well over a year by this point, and he’d never come across as the betraying type despite his quiet demeanor. He never had participated in the games him and Arken would play, though they simply shrugged it off to introversion rather than anything more undermining; yet there was nobody he trusted more than Cybele.

She had almost helped raise him, since the moment he had the Lorrd shipyards create her so many years before. After all was said and done, she was kept his head above water despite every mistake he chose to make. From the attack on [member="Irajah Ven"], to the boarding of the dreadnaught known as The Behemoth; he had become a walking pincushion for bad decisions, and no matter what he had chosen she stuck with him.

He didn’t have a choice but to believe her.

Dread fell to anger as The Slave set his hand to his side, now balled in a white knuckled fist; turning those cold corrupted eyes on his friend. Hair fell in his face slightly as his tone fell from grace, taking on a far more guttural demand, tinged with undertones of a looming rampage;

“Atlas.”, he said slowly. It took a moment for him to get the rest of his question out.

“How did the fleet get here?”

[member="Atlas Kane"]

---

The turrets never ceased, littering anyone that stepped behind the shields with more lead than air; a dangerous lesson for a boarding party. Even still however, a few of the shots landed and damaged the operational servomotors on the turret the group had ganged up on; reducing its accuracy. Shots began to go astray and ricochet around the room as it struggled against going limp.

The other however, took an almost immediate reaction on the one known as Ceth as rounds tore through the interior of the vessel with extreme prejudice. Only a few hallways away, a quickly approaching group of battledroids moved to intercept; as the group was only a few moments away from hypercritical locations like the reactors.

Cybele knew their goal was likely to shut down engineering, even her own core, and should they get close enough they’d have every viable method to do so. Time was running short as tensions began to rise; knowing full and well that the end loomed if things didn’t turn up quickly.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Allies: TRA​

Enemies: TSE​

Suicide Squad: [member="Kamon Vondiranach"] | [member="Avoim Oeymo"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] | [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] ​

Engaging (eventually): [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"]​

​

Asation Swamps​

Jedi Loyalist Strike Team​

​

​

​

Varex nodded grimly, acknowledging Vondiranach's sentiment.

Without a word, he drove one of his gauntlets' activated kyber emitters into the dead horde mother's already desiccated egg sac. He needed no instruction on how to properly dispatch Sithspawn, the Jedi Inquisitor had fought just such beasts on Byss and other Order of Shadows holdout worlds. Given Raaf's presence here on Asation, there was a good chance they were even from the same stock. Some habits were just too deeply ingrained, and Varex knew if he hoped to defeat his former master, he would have to capitalize on one of these mundane details.

"Thanks," Hal Varik winced when the Vaemath helped him to his feet, "Sorry about..."

He trailed off, glancing over briefly at the fallen Jedi Justicar a few paces away in guilt.

He knew the risks, was all Varex offered in the way of sympathy, He traded his life for yours. See that his sacrifice was not wasted.

The Jedi stalked off through the swamp, catching up with Kamon who had already started moving on.

We should increase our pace, he said to their ally of circumstance, More Sithspawn will have been drawn by the Colonel's scattergun, and the Sith can sense when their abominations are destroyed.

They had not gone more than a few hundred meters when Varex's acute senses picked up on muted whispers. Not coming from a place of concealment nearby, but only a few meters away. Lagging back from his position on point, he glanced over at the culprit in mild annoyance.

Colonel? by now the Jedi had realized his scout was speaking on comms with someone.

"Its the second wave," Varik hissed, surprised initially by the intrusion of his team leader's thoughts, "There's a lot of interference from the Sith jammers in orbit, but I'm pretty sure they took significant losses on the way down. Only two companies of SpaceOps Marines made it, they'll be setting down not far from our LZ in less than ten."

Notify any survivors about the Sithspawn, and order them to proceed immediately to our beacon.

He could sense the presence of others through the Force not far ahead. Not more monstrous beasts like he had sensed lurking all around them on during their trek, but sentient humanoids. After a few dozen more meters, he ordered the rest of his strike team to cease their advance. Not wanting to risk a plasma blade giving them away so close, Varex instead smashed his gauntleted fists into the dirt, digging a shallow hole fairly quickly and then burying their cloaked binary beacon.

"What now?" the colonel whispered as softly as he could.

We're close, the Jedi Knight glanced over at Kamon, judging by the Master's expression that he agreed with what Varex was about to say, But not close enough. Rathtars are converging on our position, they'll reach us before we reach the Sith.

As if to illuminate his point, bloodthirsty rathtar cries echoed off of each other, far closer sounding this time then they had been before.

I have an idea, he announced wearily, I need volunteers, preferably Inquisitors.

Once he had selected his team, Varex immediately tilted his head for them to follow as he set off into the swamps in the direction of the nearest rathtar cry.

We'll draw them away from you, he called back to Kamon through the Force, Get the others as close as you can to their perimeter without being detected, and then wait for my signal.

What's the signal? Vondiranach asked him, but he could tell from the Rogue Master's thoughts that he was already beginning to guess.

You'll know it when you see it.

 

[Elijah Brockway]

Location: Gree Space
Aboard: HIM Tempestus
Allies: [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Vanessa Vantai"] [member="Atlas Kane"] @Others I'm Too Lazy To List
Enemies: [member="The Slave"] @See Above​

"Sir! We've destroyed one of their main engines!" one of Garen's officers called out, to which Garen nodded. "Recharge the autocannons; for now, dip us back downwards, and fire on their engines with everything we've got. Ion cannons, turbolasers, conner nets, everything we have to disable their engines." The weapons officer and helm moved to comply; the large ship tilted its bow downwards, the torrential fire from the topside of the battlecruiser resuming. The interdictor repositioned itself up and behind the battlecruiser, well out of harm's way, while the three shield frigates moved to protect its underside.

"Sir! Shields are draining fast!" Garen turned, furrowing his brow. "They've hacked our shields now, we can't get them back up ye—blast!" Outside the viewport, the battlefield lit up as one of the shield frigates exploded, taking the hits of multiple HELIX missiles into itself. "Good positioning," Garen muttered to himself, when another of the shield frigates was torn apart; shortly after that, alarms blared as more of the HELIX missiles slammed into the frontal underside of the Tempestus. "Damage report!" Garen barked out, one of the officers quickly responding.

"Sir! Significant damage to the armour plating, but only minor hull penetration. Blast doors have sealed, casualties are minimal. The autocannons are still intact." Garen nodded, looking back out at the battlefield.

Only for more fighters to enter the fray.

Off a ways to the Tempestus's starboard, the rest of Garen's battlegroup came into view. The Harrower-class quickly fired its engines, moving and making a turn so that it was able to bring its weapons to bear on the opposite side of the Technicolor Beat. As it did so, a small swarm of TIE fighters spewed out of it, four squadrons quickly closing the distance between the Harrower and the Technicolor Beat, bringing their laser cannons to bear on anything they could—external shield generator vanes, weapons emplacements, or back at the engines.

Both of the Eradicator heavy cruisers, accompanied each by a Shard-class assault frigate, quickly took stock of the situation, and they each split off on pursuit of The Twins. Even as they approached, the Eradicators opened fire with their long range turbolasers, spewing forth their own singular fighter squadrons to to help soak up the shields protecting each escort frigate. This was alongside the harassment already provided by the interdictor's squadron, which had itself split in two to harass both ships, though sustaining some losses to point-defense weaponry. Still, if Garen had to guess, neither of the escort ships would last long, fighting two capital ships and a squadron and a half of starfighters each.

"Sir! Our Harrower is fighting back the hacking!" his comm officer reported. "It's managed to restore local comms." Garen nodded. "Connect me to our allies. I need to make sure they know the situation." The officer's fingers danced over his console, while Garen stepped back to where the holoprojector would pick him up. Once his comm officer gave him a thumbs up, he started speaking.

"Ablution, this is Rear Admiral Garen Kalkat of the Dantooine Defense Fleet," he started, giving a short introduction. "Your assistance is appreciated, but whatever you do, ensure you do not destroy the Technicolor Beat. Orders are to disable and capture it, if possible." He took a breath, and after a moment, signalled his comm officer to end the transmission, and switch them to a broad frequency. Once that was done, he addressed the Technicolor Beat itself, hoping it would pick up the comm signal again.

"Technicolor Beat, in the interests of not prolonging this battle any longer than it needs to and minimizing damage—both to your ship and to any sentients who may be aboard it—this is your last chance to surrender. If you do so, we shall cease our assault, and for any crew or passengers aboard who peacefully surrender their weaponry and themselves to Imperial custody upon being boarded, you have my guarantee that no harm will come to them without prosecution under the due process of law. If you refuse, we will be forced to disable your ship and take it completely by force, and anybody onboard will be considered and treated as an enemy of the Sith Empire. The choice is yours."

After that, he stood waiting for a response, while the fire from his ship—and from the rest of his ships—continued, currently unabated.

Spoiler: Battlegroup: Panatha's Fist

Present at Gree:
1x Defoliation-class Siege Battlecruiser, HIM Tempestus
1x Incapacitator-class Interdiction Cruiser
1x Athena-class Shield Frigates
2x Vigil II-class Corvette
1x Harrower-class Dreadnought, Mk. III
2x Eradicator-class Heavy Cruisers
2x Shard-class Assault Frigates

Casualties:
2x Athena-class Shield Frigates
Total Length: 10,100 9,200 meters

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Location: Asation Swamps​

​

Allies: TSE l [member="Darth Carnifex"] l [member="Vilaz Munin"] l [member="Taeli Raaf"] l Literally everyone with the Asation thing.​

​

Enemies: Former Jedi friends l [member="Kahne Porte"] l [member="Allyson Locke"] l [member="Jyoti Nooran"]​

​

​

​

“We are born to die. We live to be remembered.” – Mandalorian proverb​

​

​

Such was the way of the Mando'ade. Preliat would be remembered. The swamps fog gave way. The heavy footfalls of the Wolf of Mandalore, splashing across the mud at his feet. The very ground seemed to give way, part for the Wolf to come forward. To face his foes. To face the Jedi. Preliat's helmet turned, ever so slightly towards the dead Jedi nearest him.​

​

"If only I felt pity."​

​

The Wolf turned to face the Jedi, @Varex. Behind his helmet, amber eyes laid upon the Jedi Shadow and his compatriots. The heavy Beskar axe laid between two hands was gently planted, handle up in the ground. The flat, broad head of the axe let it stand upright. It was an impressive weapon, ornately carved. And deadly on both ends. It appeared to take great strength to utilize it. Strength that Preliat Mantis, obviously had.​

​

He removed the Tomahawk and the Beskad from the small of his back, and his back, respectively. The wolf simply waited. He waited for the Jedi to come to him. He was outnumbered- for the time being. But the Wolf did not feel fear. In fact, he felt only rage. There was not a stretch of fear, in the man. There was rage. There was only endless rage. The force around him, pulled towards him like a black hole in the dark reaches of the galaxy. The force moved darkly around him, covering him in an aura of malice.​

​

Crushgaunt adorned hands tightened their grips on his weapons. The Wolf would not be moved.​

​

But he appeared, however- for the moment, alone.​

 

[Onrai]

Allies: [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Atlas Kane"], [member="Darth Arabris"], [member="Amun"], [member="Nixia Amabilia"], [member="Garen Kalkat"], [member="Adrian Vandiir"]
Enemies: [member="Faye"], [member="The Slave"], [member="Judas Foster"], [member="Julian Valentine"], [member="A'lah The Green One"]

The shots from the Technicolor Beat were fast, peppering against the side of the battleship's hull. The molecularly bonded armor was intended to survive the fire of turbolasers for several minutes, and for now it held against the energy onslaught, a multitude of burn marks showcasing themselves on the sides of the ship.

Three rounds did hit, however. One hit the side of the hangar bay, the resulting wash of radiation through the ray-shielded hangar entrance killing several pilots still in their ships and physically damaging the starboard lip of the hangar bay, forcing exiting small craft to launch through the other side. One hit roughly amidships on the side armor, the strongest portion of the vessel, but already hit by the Hellbore shots. The armor penetration was minor given what the ship's hull was made out of, but an entire deck suffered decompression along with radiation poisoning - over a hundred crew members were killed or sucked into the void of space before ray shields activated and prevented the further loss of life on the deck. The vessel had been hardened to standard forms of radiation since the boarding incident, when the radtroopers had been forcibly deployed against boarders, but the deck itself would require significant cleanup once the Ablution exited the field of battle. The third hit struck the upper right nacelle, leaving a visibly large crater as the upper right engine sputtered for a bit before dying out. Thankfully no crew had been killed by that particular hit.

The Ablution's remaining engines maneuvered it towards the side of the Technicolor Beat, where it would be out of range of the enemy ship's forward weaponry. Its beam weapons charged up again and fired upon the ship's leftmost engine array. The Conquerors moved to the other side of the behemoth and opened fire on the right engine array as the smaller ships from the pursuit line moved in, skittering about the bigger ship and firing at whatever lesser weaponry they could. The Massassis in particular chose to fire on the proton beam.

"Once the ship is under Imperial control, we will require copies of whatever information is on board the vessel regarding its blueprints and configuration. The Rebels would not have allowed this vessel to be deployed if they did not have the facilities and the parts to maintain the Mephirium-class Battlecruiser design, and given we will likely encounter them again once the Alliance is crushed, it is best to start studying the design while we have an extant example in order to determine every single vulnerability this class of vessel possesses."

Hopefully the admiral would be amenable to the Maldrood's mission regarding the exploitation of weaknesses in enemy warships - after all, copies of their reports on the captured GA fleet were accessible to him, though few if any of their warships had shown up in the hands of other groups as of yet.

Spoiler

Void Irregular Fleet​
Class | Name | Length | Shields | Hull | Weapons | Subsystems


Capital Ships
Pluton-class Battleship | Ablution​ | 2000m | 0 | 75 | 85 | 75(Hyperdrive overheated, upper right engine disabled) (Firing on Technicolor Beat left engine array)

Heavy Attack Line Daala
Conqueror-class Heavy Cruiser | Scylla | 1000m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat right engine array)
Conqueror-class Heavy Cruiser | Gorgon | 1000m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat right engine array)
Conqueror-class Heavy Cruiser | Hydra | 1000m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat right engine array)
Conqueror-class Heavy Cruiser | Basilisk | 1000m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat right engine array)
Conqueror-class Heavy Cruiser | Manticore | 1000m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat right engine array)

Pursuit Line Alpha
Carrack II-class Frigate | Dominant​ | 400m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat turrets)
Carrack II-class Frigate | Oculus | 400m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat turrets)
Massassi-class Corvette | Claw​ | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)
​Massassi-class Corvette | Enforcer​ | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)
Massassi-class Corvette | Thule​ | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)
Massassi-class Corvette | Zeplin | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)
Massassi-class Corvette | Crimson​ | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)
Massassi-class Corvette | Talvira​ | 200m | 100 | 100 | 100 | 100 (Firing on Technicolor Beat proton beam)

 

[Julian Valentine]

​

- | T H E M E | -​

Allies: [member="The Slave"] | [member="Judas Foster"]
Enemies: [member="Ras Val'kor"]
________________________________________


Julian Valentine heard blaster shots from down the hall and more screaming until the bloodshed had ended and the rioters were dead. "Svel," Julian said and turned to look upon her, "Go find your little flock, sweet raven." A gentle finger rose up to cusp her chin, "Or you'll distract me." The glowering stare he received was nothing short of pure irritation. "You're a real annoying prick sometimes," she remarked. He smiled deviously. She didn't hesitate nonetheless, her place wasn't as Julians lapdog, she was Svel Droma, The Last Raven, her place was protecting her flock.

Svel Droma's eyes turned downcast to check her datapad, Julian Valentines finger letting go of her chin. "Two floors up," she said, "Not far from the turbolift. I'll be back in no time." She resolved herself to find her misfits and bring them back to Julian. He was Lysle's personal dog of war, he could protect them and find a way off his ship. She gave Julian a two-finger salute goodbye and then dashed for the turbolift. Once inside, the doors shut, the ship rumbled. The turbolift shook. She entered the digits of the floor she wanted and the turbolift began to rise. The ship rumbled again and then the turbolift went dark. She swore. She was stuck.

Valentine watched her retreating back, then the turbolift closed behind her. The ship rumbled and he didn't like the way it did. He had experienced fleeting battles before but something about this encounter was far deadlier than usual. He wondered briefly if the Beat could last. Find Svel a way off this ship, earn the Slaves favor. He wasn't sure what he would do if he could only choose between one of those. He came to the quick conclusion that he'd simply have to wait and see.

The Bounty Hunter heard footfalls coming closer, an individual. It wasn't the rioters. It was whoever had gunned them down. Valentine turned to face the armoured man, remaining silent as he watched him raise a blaster. "Woah," Valentine said, arms raised in supplication, "I'm only looking for a way off this ship, I don't want trouble." While he spoke his eyes darted across the visuals of his helmets HUD, activating the twin Huckleberry holsters at his side. The computer chips began to target the man in front of him.

Target Acquired. Valentine began to place his hands behind his head in the suggestion that he was surrendering, "Take my guns if you want, ID card too, whatever you want, my card can get you into most places, or maybe you're looking for a way off too? I've got a ship," Valentine falsely enticed him, knowing full well what he had just done in the hanger through the recordings Cybele had shown him.

His eyes ran in patterns across his HUD. In a sudden, silent and quick action, the two HG-54's on either side of his hips rotated with speed and the triggers remotely pulled. The two pistols fired at their intended target, the silent payload of the pistols were small metal pellets, yet their supersonic speeds made them hyper-lethal. The sheer force on impact against a hard surface was capable of creating micro-explosions as the kinetic impact ignited the oxygen in the air.

 

[WelshPsych]

(OOC: Working off phone so super tricky to link to equipment, promise to do so when back on Sunday!)

Location: On our way to Sith central
Allies: [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Valkren Calderon"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"]
Enemies: The big bad bunch of Sith
Objective: Destroy said bunch of Sith, their booty and whatever nefarious plots they got going


Wearing his personal armour, even putting on his tactical helmet, Yuroic was going to use all the equipment he had available to him to fight the Sith. This wasn't going to be a repeat of Mirial, no this was going to be a success story. He waited for Allyson Locke, a fellow member of the Order who was not a Jedi. There were a couple of passings between them but this would be in his mind the first time they would really interacting and working together. She joined them at the hangar and greeted each Valkren and the newcomer, Kahne. "Well we better get started then, can't have Master Jyoti grouchy with us!" Yuroic said with a smirk behind his helmet.

Boarding the ship, he looked at the other soldiers with him. He wasn't their leader, heck he was high on spice right now he wasn't sure he was just vividly remembering events. However, he just felt like he should say something while they waited to be shot down or land. "Alright men and women, today is not going to be a walk in the park. The Sith have their monsters and soldiers, but we have spirit and grit. We're not going to let some sack of poodoo Sith get away with this invasion. They maybe a strong faction but we will keep fighting and pushing them back. Even if its only one planet at a time, eventually we'll reach their homeworld and everyone on this dropship will make it to that fight!" Yuroic sighed deeply, chances were none of them were going to make it that far but he knew in combat you inspired more than you spoke honestly.

The dropship took some damage the way down, landing not so elegantly onto the swampy land. Yuroic trudged through the mud as Allyson came up behind him. He laughed, she seemed to think he'd be the one behind. "Alright, how bout this, whoever gets the most kills today, loser buys them dinner? I will warn you, after a battle I like to eat classy!" He chuckled deeply, it wasn't true, he hardly ate when he returned from combat but perhaps he needed to go do something different and a possible dinner date might be that. Gripping his bow, he activated its energy drawstring and pulled out an arrow from his quiver.

 

[Valkren Calderon]

Location: Pantera-Class Stealth Frigate Nightshade ---> Surface​

Objective: Deploy to Ruins, Halt Sith Activities​

Assets: First Ranger Special Tactics Unit, droid reinforcements​

Nearby: [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Yuroic Xeraic"] | [member="Jyoti Nooran"]|[member="Allyson Locke"]​

Equipment: Armor | rifle | sidearm | Melee | Holdout |​

________________________________________________________________________________​

​

Valkren met Kahne's hand with his own, giving it a firm shake. He'd offer a sly smirk.

"Colonel Valkren Calderon, first ranger special tactics unit. Pleasure's all ours, sir."

After his statement, Yuroic and Commander Locke would approach, with Allyson opening up with a question about their status. To the colonels' fullest knowledge, all of the teams had been readied. Each squad had been assigned with their own transports and ysalamir kits, they had their orders and knew to remain in link with the colonel to move toward their objective.

By the time she had reached them, most of his command group had applied the 'war paint' below and around their eyes, slipping in with the moral booster some of the other rangers were preforming.

"Team's all ready, Ma'am. We're waiting for the call." Valkren stated, with not a shame in the world as he continued to mark his face with the paint.

____________________________​

___________________​

___________​

​

​'Sith Killers Inside'​

​

He remembered seeing the words on the side of the drop ship opposite him before their descent, an image that Valkren had seen repeatedly in a number of different theaters and wars. The drop wasn't smooth..No soldier got used to the drop they'd take planet-side during insertions. They could brag all day about how many jumps and drops they've recorded under their belts, but no-one gets used to plummeting towards solid rock. Nonetheless, here they were..His men following him once more into the belly of the beast, with the Jedi along side.

They trusted him to show them through the battle they'd soon land directly in.

His visor flashed blue as the heads-up-display engaged just as their stealth drop touched down, rangers and droids alike flooding the landing zones, with the rangers and the colonel's own command squad at the head of it. He'd hold position, crouching at the forefront with his weapon ready, awaiting a signal from their strike team leader.

The rangers remained motionless as they waited, weapons of all kinds poised in different directions with the droids the commander deployed directly ahead of them.

Eventually, the colonel's name would be called out by the commander to lead the way.

"Solid copy, rangers advancing."

At the end of his transmission, the company's worth of rangers advanced through the swamp, weapons steadied in every direction as they checked every corner they moved around. They'd advance cautiously considering they weren't under fire at the moment, each ranger covering one another as they advanced from cover to cover. Valkren took a moment after hoping between several pieces of cover to stop, looking over-top the sight of his rifle ahead of the group. Lieutenant Harris would slide down beside him, placing his back up against the piece of cover the colonel was using, pointing his rotary cannon toward the sky.

"Karkwit' sith. Always with some nonsense in haunted ruins-"

"Someone really 'ought to write a letter, huh old timer?" Specialist Lowder piped up as he jogged by the pair to the next piece of cover, hanging his LPD blaster rifle around it to cover the next group advancing.

Valkren pointed two fingers towards Corporal Bowers, speaking up as they slowed up to communicate properly.

"Get us eyes in those ruins!" His tone was firm, but hushed even through their comms.

The corporal nodded, crouching down and letting the other rangers advance slightly ahead of them, accessing his long-range communications kit.

"Darkstar, this Raider-seven requesting eyes-on, how copy?"

The rangers ahead of the corporal began to slow their approach as they neared the outskirts of the ruins, remaining low. Calderon trudged through some of the swampy marshland, moving to a overturned tree that Corporal Bowers was using for cover. He'd peak overtop at the ruins, spotting a mix of Sith and- Jedi? All around. Valkren would push close, moving with his own squad ahead of other ranger groups but kept decent distance from their destination. The colonel lowered himself behind the cover to turn toward his superior and allies. (Allyson, Yuroic, Kahne)

"Sith troops up ahead, waiting on your go commander. Friendly Jedi seem to be ahead. Yuroic and I can move to spearhead the assault if we need something to spice up the fight." His voice echoed out through their transmissions, broadcasting directly to the other three, being the command group of their strike team.

After a quick moment, he'd emphasize a reminder to their team-leader. "Locke, I have clearance for air support if needed. Don't hesitate to let me know."

After this, his eyes focused out at the sith from behind his visor, rifle at the ready for their call to action. Rangers were gathered all about the marshes, prepping behind their rightful squads as they awaited the word to move along side their droid supports.

​Valkren could hear the hushed voices of rangers speaking to one another as they scanned their 'zones'

"Look at all of them.."

"Scurrying around like karkin' scum."

"Bet I'll blast more than you, Bowers."

Valk's eyes gazed about at what they were seeing, sith troops and sithspawn alike 'roving' around. They were everywhere.

[member="Darth Prazutis"] | [member="Darth Carnifex"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Darth Caecus"] | [member="Luca Thorne"] | [member="Kaalia Pavanos"]

 

[Amea Virou]

[member="Koda Fett"], of the Sith Empire
Gree, Ground

---

Failure didn’t feel as painful as she had thought it would. As the rifle in her hands came crashing down she felt her chest burn with a sensation unlike anything she felt before. Her grip on the rifle was relinquished once more. Her forearms caught her fall to the ground and with a defiant push she tried her best to push herself up again, but with the state of her arm all she could do was collapse.

The world grew dark, faded to black as her muscles gave in.

Maybe… Maybe a quick rest would do her good. Her eyelids struggled, her teeth gritted to the very last second as she tried to push herself onward. But before long her cheek met the ground with a gentle thud after which she remained unmoving. Alive, but unmoving.

For the time being, Amea Virou was no long conscious.