Faction Banners of the Fallen II [EMPIRE]

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Allies : Imperial troops

Foes : Any hostile people/ship

Equipment : Uniform; custom-made blaster; cerermonial sword; telescope

Task Force 58 composition : AIV Napoléon Bonaparte (Legate-class battlecruiser, flagship); AIV Maréchal Davout (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Maréchal Lannes (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Robert Surcouf (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Jean Bart (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Dixmude (Onager II-class star destroyer); AIV Montfaucon (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV Passchendaele (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV L'Effroyable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Téméraire (Harrier-class haevy cruiser); AIV L'Indomptable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Malin (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Forbin (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Cassard (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Camerone (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Koufra (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Bir Hakeim (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Athos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Portos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Aramis (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Silencieux (stealth corvette)

Legate-class battleceruiser AIV Napoléon Bonaparte
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock

"The enemy fleet is bombarding our ground forces on world ! L'Effroyable, L'Indomptable, Le Téméraire and Le Malin, take a low orbit position and provide air support to our allies. All of the remaining ships, take a battleline formation. Ahead full, all guns to starboard. To all ships, open fire !"

The fleet took formation forming a battleline behind the Legate-class battlecruiser, opening fire to the ennemy ships while the four Harrier-class went into a lower orbit, bombarding the ennemy positions with their guns. Then, a communication came on the ground forces frequency:

[All available medics, this is Nines. I am requesting additional medical support for the 908th Legion, Trench 1, coordinates attached. We've got a lot of amputated men out here. I'm hoping you can stabilize their condition. Nines, out.]

"Nines, this is Commodore Herlock. I'll send transport shuttles with medical staff and supplies to the coordinates you transmitted and bring the wounded to the medical facilities on board of my fleet. Herlock out."

"Sir, the ennemy is taking damage but some of our ships are suffering multiple combat damages. The Koufra is signaling us that their engines are crippled and the Bir Hakeim is now unable to open fire."

"Make them stop the fight and retreat to a safe system to initiate the repairs. The remaining ships will continue to fight. Glory to the Empire !"

The fleet resumed their attack, inflicting damage to the ennemy ships, when Herlock got an idea.

"Contact the Dixmude, the Montfaucon and the Passchendaele. Tell them to make use of their siege cannons take down the majority of their ships !"

"Aye Sir !"

The three Onager-II ships broke the formation with the three Katana-class heavy cruisers and the Silencieux to protect them. They took aim and fired their very heavy artillery. Each shot took down immediatly a ship, reducing the ennemy forces little by little.

 

[Kastav Volff]

​

Location: Niaruan
Objective: Defend the City
Tags: Focus: Open| Albrecht F. Herlock Aoki-Barran Mira DECEASED Aron Gowrie Ashel de Stilico Aurelian Sigismund FN-999 Michael Barran Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim Argilac Nukth Kelga'an Sylas
Actions: Weapons prepped and awaiting for droids to enter engagement range
Forces:

• 2/45-CF E-Web Platoon [3/3] [14/14]

"Observe everything, admire nothing"
S A N D C A S T L E​

880 ABY
The 'fit'

Kastav was sat in a dimly lit corner of the concrete room and as the troops around them set up their fighting positions he studied a tac-map which showed the disposition of the forces around him. His platoon sat on the most northern edge of the Eastern defensive line, sandwiched between two militia regiments. He had opted out of integrating himself into their command structure as he quite frankly had little faith in the abilities of the local militia. Instead he had simply made his presence known, hoping that the knowledge that an ISB agent and platoon of Compforce troopers were watching would dissuade them from a 'premature retreat'.

A radio pack from one of the troopers sat next to him and from it the usual chatter of status reports and supply requests had been drowned out by the sounds of commanders rallying their troops with inspirational speeches. Kastav scoffed as the speech went on, eventually switching off the radio. A voice quickly chimed in and Kastav looked up to see the Lieutenant standing there.

"I take it this means you're not gonna regale us with a rallying cry?" she said a smirk plastered across her face.

Kastav shook his head gently. "If I wanted to spend my days talking out my ass I would've joined as a political commissar." he said before turning his attention back to the tacmap. "I also thought you and your merry band of ex-cons weren't into that kind of stuff."

The lieutenant squatted down, peering at the datapad as well. "I enjoy a cheesy patriotic holofilm every once in a while." After a few seconds looking at the map she spoke again but this time about their position. "What's your money on the militia holding?"

The Axxilan simply shook his head. "I wouldn't bet a dime on 'em. Can we spare a gun to watch their exit path."

The lieutenant studied the map before picking up a small stick off the ground. "Can't lose a third of our firepower and if we fire westwards we run the risk of having the troops in the next defensive line mistake us for raiders." she explained before picking up the stick and pointing on the tacmap. "We can have guns one and two face the expected enemy advance, gun three will cover some of that arc and some of the militia positions. Chances are if they break before ordered one or two might make it past but we'll get any more that try make a break for it."

Kastav nodded. "Make it happen, I'll give further clarification to the militia of our purpose here."

As the lieutenant stood up and began ordering the third gun to be shifted over it only briefly dawned on Kastav that he was talking about shooting soldiers on his own side. Any hint of trepidation was very quickly brushed aside by what he was taught in the ISB. He existed to maintain the integrity of Imperial populations and soldiers and desertion of any sort was a crime and during times of war, punishable by death. Kastav knew he had his duty, Jalter would've wanted him to carry it out.

Grabbing the radiopack's handset he changed frequency to one that was open to any units in the area. <2-45-CF to all units in local proximity. 2-45 is set up in the old Rillis Hotel on the second floor. Guns will be providing additional fire support. Additionally it is my duty to remind you that the ISB considers desertion an offence punishable by death, these E-webs can just as easily turn on those who choose to retreat before the order is given.> he said before pausing. His 'speech' certainly lacked the flair of any other being given that day. <Long live the Empire.>

Kastav place the handset down and turned his attention back to the tacmap and not even five seconds later the radio began flashing, indicating a priority message was coming through. Flicking back to the main battle frequency the voice of the Baron FN-999 burst from the radio.

[[ORBITAL BOMBARDMENT INBOUND!!]]

Before Kastav could even turn to his own men to tell them to get down the ground shook and concussive forces of nearby orbital strikes knocked everyone to the ground. Kastav tried to stand up but another nearby explosion pushed him back to the ground. By now dust and dirt in the building had kicked up everywhere and the loss of vision it caused only added to the situation. Volff layed on the ground as it shook and each minute that passed by felt agonisingly long.

As it settled Kastav get up one knee, wretching as the change in pressure from the explosions made it feel like someone had fired a sonic blaster down his throat and into his lungs. "Status report!" he coughed out and he was met by a mix of groans and coughs. The voice of the Lieutenant came in soon after. "All squads sound off!"

Rapidly the troopers' training kicked in and soon the status of each soldier, their designated e-web and ammo came in. The platoon had gotten off relatively lightly, being on the edge of the defensive line it had appeared the majority of the raider strikes had targeted command centres and large concentrations of troops. The sound of more explosions at first convinced Kastav that the raiders were about to finish them off but the whistle of outgoing shells made him realise it was artillery fire from HQ. Kastav scrambled to the window of the building as the platoon reassumed their positions and he looked out with his macro binoculars and in the distance he made out large EMP explosions. From there he could see what they were targeting.

"Droids." he turned to face his soldiers. "Prepare for contact."

Spoiler

2-45-CF position marked out by red circle

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

7th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags : FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Albrecht F. Herlock Nukth Kelga'an Kastav Volff Sylas

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 7

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

'YOU LOT, GET THIS STATION BACK ONLINE!!!! MOVE IT!!!!'
​

With his Fragarach primed and ready in the grip of his left hand, and with his trusty Sting o' Frost wielded with the right, Lord Aron was readier than ever for a good fight, standing with more focus in his eye than had been achieved in almost two years by then. But despite all that it meant for his deathly intentions, it felt like the purest of reinvigorations, even as the city crumbled around Fort Defiant, even with the dust of the previous bombardments clouding everything in sight.

'We need damage-reports on the double, gentlemen! LETS LOOK LIVELY NOW, CHOP-CHOP!!!!'

As the command-centre's staffers waded blindly through the madness from one map-station to the next, the two Goidels worked like madmen to clear as much debris from their own stations in turn, working to see and hear exactly what damage had been dealt to the Imperials in the moments before, though neither Carwood nor Aron would take long to get their Holographic projections online and synched again. Just in time to see the havoc the Swarm had wreaked already, just in time to hear the damage-reports from all three main battlefronts and the Hand of Thrawn's defenders along with it, but in a dark continuation of Imperial misfortune, so too were they just in time to see the havoc the Swarm would wreak in the following minutes.

'May Dia take mercy on their souls.... An' with my Sinn'Searann as my witnesses, I promise the Swarm will pay for every last one we lose here today.'

Its alright, brother.
I know they will....

Every - last - one o' them.​

The East front appeared to be hit the hardest, and with reports corroborating to worrisome extents, (along with reports of the North and West fronts faring almost as badly in some parts of their lines) it was clear the Swarm were reaching for the proverbial and strategic throat from the first wave of attack, the attackers' way of saying the worst was yet to come. It was enough to survive orbital bombardments the first time on Ziost, but to endure and fight on after a second suchlike ordeal was nothing short of miraculous, and only two attending warriors had survived long enough to experience this most-unwelcome of achievements; though this occurred as no surprise to any, as one was the Lord-General of IMPAF, and the other was the anointed Lord-Baron of Imperium. Granting both men insight enough to know that the next wave of attack was likely already underway by then, but without any working comm-link devices yet - Nines couldn't inform Aron what that next wave would be.

'Looks like they're ready to fight us face-to-face, Carwood!'

Though fortunately for the ground-defenders, and for Gowrie himself first and foremost, the tired (though wary) eyes of the Kellas caught the Naval projections in the periphery of his left eye, turning his head to find that there was a fresh concentration of ships appearing just a short distance away from Nirauan's orbit. Somewhat separated from the bombardment contingent, it took a few moments for their formation to unfold in the wake of the unfolding counterpart of the destroyers next to them, but in the moment Aron saw that it was a small squadron of supercarriers, he knew then that the conventional ground-battle was finally underway.

'ABOUT KARKING TIME, MAN!!!!'

Don't speak so soon, Woad. First round was intense enough.
We know it could always get so much worse from here.
​

The suddenly-cautious Gowrie then peaked outside through a crack in the battlements, just waiting for the first sign of activity in skies above, as if to expect a swarm of a different, more-tangible sort, though he wouldn't be kept waiting for long. The atmosphere would come alive with the burning hulls of the enemy's landers and dropships in the following moments, followed by an activated AD-Hub, throwing vicious salvos at the airborne threat with every anti-air resource they had, lighting up the rainy, cloud-filled skies as aggressively as Lord Byron would allow. But there were too many landers to catch with air-defence cannonry, far too many to consider such efforts worth much in the end, and before long the impacts could be felt thudding across New Carannia's sprawling backdrop, prompting Aron's instinctive focus on Fragarach usage first.

'Alright.... Looks like its Whiskey-time now, Carwood. Ready up for the madness!'

​

More than a few of the closer landings had dropped in close enough to feel underfoot within Fort Defiant, but despite having hand-picked elements of the 173rd there to aid them, (primed to close in on any who landed within the boundaries of the fabled Myrmidon Quarter) everyone working to coordinate the defence efforts knew they would have a fight of their own to endeavour before long. Some of the dropships would land closer to the inner boundaries of the district surrounding Fort Defiant, but there was no denying that some others had landed much closer to the fortress on it's north and south approaches, and as soon as their off-ramps were heard crushing rubble on contact, the Goidels were already finding cover instinctively.

<"THEY.... IN BA.... -DROIDS!!!! HOLD.... LIIIIINE!!!!">
​

'Wonderful.... What next, hm?'

​

The garbled vocal output from the comm-link was all the confirmation and early-warning IMPAF Command had, and despite the strong-willed Major Reed's ingenuity, it was all the early-warning they were likely to receive for the duration of the battle. The battle commenced only a moment later, preceded by the order down the line to,"OPEN FIRE!!!!", on the droids, and when the screeching blasters rang out in anger, it was only a matter of seconds before the command-centre had their own fight on their hands. A warlike fanfare like no other, heralding in the heaviest firefights the Empire had known since the Battle of Tython just a few years before, though neither Lord Carwood nor Lord Aron were strangers to such environments, owing much to the defensive capabilities of Fort Defiant in New Carannia's hour of need.

'Thats how its done, Carwood! TRUST IN THE FRAGARACH!!!! Disruptor tech is overpowered - you know this as well as I do!'

Always in with a fighting chance with commanders who were comfortable fighting in War's deathly Crucible, both McGechin and Gowrie alike were resolved to stand as testament to Imperium's plucky survivability, and despite the fact the Swarm were far from done with the defenders on the ground, the Empire would know good fortune for having a Woad and a Tuath who held mutually-vicious sentiments in turn.

'Enough wi' that yap-yap-yappin', Teuchter! GET T'WORK!!!!'

 

[Michael Barran]

6th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

TAGS
FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Aurelian Sigismund

HOLD THE LINE I: DEFIANT IMPERIUM - PART 6

CENTRAL TOWER, THE HAND OF THRAWN,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

'Oooooooohohohohoho.... They're gonna pay for that one!'
​

The worst of the shockwave's consequences had been personally negated, self-corrected whilst being hurled mid-air towards a likely-lethal landing at terminal velocity, though the nifty use of the Click Wave still wasn't enough to avert the resulting lesser-impact. Temporarily knocking the wind out of the Woad's lungs, as any such landing on hard surfaces would, but as he snapped out from his comically-mild state of shock, Barran quickly understood what exactly it was that the upper and lower segments of his back had clashed with.

'This karking debris has no right DIGGING INTO MY BACK EITHER!!!! YE CAN'T CATCH TWO BARRANS WI' THE SAME TRICK, YA BUNCH O' FETHIN' COWAAAAAAAAAARDS!!!!'

​

Rolling over with a groan to reach a prone position, that which was actionable for further pro-active moments, Michael growled obscenities to himself for a few breaths, readying himself to rise once and for all just a few seconds later. A necessity, and not only for the Woad's survival, but to see exactly what damage had been inflicted on the Hand of Thrawn's North-Eastern tower as well; but it wasn't until the the last second that Michael heard what was to follow, thudding into the ground all over the city and the fortress he was trying to defend, with some landing close enough that Barran himself could read the print-letters and numbers across their hulls. However, much to his own surprise through the aches and groaning pains, the Lord-Warden would find no despair in his heart, not even within the deepest depths of his soul, searching only to find that excitement (and raging anticipation) which precedes a proper fight instead.

<"Wanderer to Shadow - we best get our warriors back to the surface! Landings in progress, off-ramps are down already! I'll distract them at the breach in the meanti- hold on.... They appear to have sent us droids to scuffle against.... Meh! Could be worse, but the others are still very-much needed. The Swarm sent enough to outnumber us by the looks of it.">​

Even from a distance, Barran knew he didn't need to use his Far-Sight abilities to notice the clunky, restricted movements of droids moving into battle formations; as the Galaxy's vast array of automaton designs, despite their evolution over the course of centuries, still followed the same patterns of propelling and lateral motion by the latter decades of the 9th Century ABY. But as far as the perceptions of strategy went, the Wanderer understood the reasoning that went into sending the droids in as the second wave of attack, though he couldn't help but laugh at the futility of their implementation on Nirauan of all planets, and especially so with the infantry firepower of the Empire considered. This was the grand plan of someone resting just beyond the orbital sphere, scheming somewhere in the skies above, but in the realisation of the Swarm's desire to wear down the Imperials' will to fight, Barran's laughter became a roaring cackle of nefarious delight.

Screaming with a menacing, near-howling mirth of which a few of the nearest droids would be able to hear, but as for what they would find as they climbed over the breach and beyond the rubble-covered threshold, the dust-covered Woad was the last thing they expected to find waiting for them. It was the least-threatening sight in the scanners of the droids who moved to surround him, and to such an extent that the majority moved to occupy the courtyard with threat-vectors reading at their lowest since they landed, mostly ignoring Lord Michael in their process of mistaking him for a local vagrant. But for those primed to execute mercy-killing orders, surrounding the Wanderer with blasters raised, they wouldn't know what threat they were facing until they opened fire, and by then it would be much too late for the automatons to rectify their first and last mistakes.

[Accord with Execution Order Three Dash Delta Five - open fire]​

[Roger-Roger]
[Roger-Roger]
[Roger-Roger]
[Roger-Roger]
[Roger-Roger]

Instead of single-shot, the blasters that the Swarm's droids had been programmed to wield only fired in a variance of burst or automatic fire, not that it mattered to the Lord-Warden at the time, standing all too ready and all too willing to soak up everything the droids had to offer until the fire-order was registered as complete. Standing with arms out wide out, seemingly accepting his fate, but as long as the Wanderer's Force Wall was kept firmly in place, no harm would befall him. The only scene the droids would find then was a translucent ball with burning blaster-rayss sticking out, pointing in every perceivable direction as the machines began to backpedal, and by then - it was already much too late and much too daunting for their programming to negate in time.

'HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUURGH!!!!'

Like an impacting cluster bomb, perhaps even like an enlarged fragmentation-grenade, the Woad unleashed his own pulsing shockwave on the courtyard around him, sending every last ensnared bolt and gun-ray scattering into the metallic framework of every droid that misjudged the dusty, bearded madman before. Not even the rest of the nearest droids could escape such a sudden strike, still climbing over the rubble and into a courtyard they were on the verge of marking as a green-zone before the explosion occurred, triggering a consequent chain-reaction that likely scrapped all the automatons fortunate enough to escape the initial cluster-effect. A harsh lesson for any of the Swarm's best droid-programmers, but all the same a particular lesson the Woad was quite happy to teach, standing in the outcome of their hubris without so much as a bead of sweat exerted in the process, almost too indulgent in displaying what they could neither predict nor quantify beforehand.

Leaving nothing but a smoky, fog-like haze of their poor programming in his wake.

More were expected, as their clunky legs could be heard clattering around in every direction beyond the breach, but Michael cared less than little about the droids at the time; peering into the skies above with a snarling grin, with arms outstretched to taunt the Swarm's leaders, it would likely be apparent to the Woad's subordinates as to what (or rather, who) in particular was on his mind. The soldiers and Druids returning from the basement levels would have difficulty seeing their Lord-Warden amid the smoky, rubble-covered northern courtyard, though only at first, as the smoke itself would clear in the wake of another rainy downpour, revealing an unharmed, unaffected Wanderer covered in dust, soot and little chunks of architectural debris.

'BRING IT ON, BROTHER!!!! LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!!'

​

 

[Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim]

7th post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

GODMASK_ACTUAL

LORD-CAPTAIN OF FIREDANCE BRIGADE(THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD)
HIGH-SHAMAN OF THE SERENNOAN ESOTERIC CHAPTER
PRIEST-KING OF ARCHAIS

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Aurelian Sigismund Kastav Volff Nukth Kelga'an

FOR THE ANCIENTS II: IN THE EYES OF THE DEAD - PART 7

Fiyarro District, The Old City,
New Carannia, Nirauan (Late 880 ABY)

THE HOUR OF STRIFE IS UPON US, NOVANIANS!!!!
STAND FIRM FOR THE FUTURE OF THIS CITY!!!!
​

As Mother Melarria's quiet adherents walked off with Siyarr towards their positions in the Northern segment of the line, the fifty Warseers who remained with Yorunarr made no attempt to hide Maaru's elation from their comrades, though they were still hoping to encourage the enthralled to relish the impending fight for survival as they were. But what the others didn't know was that Maaru's adherents aimed to grace the surface first, and in the wild abandon of their raucous cheering and shrieking ululations, Yorunarr would find his will to fight once and for all - joining in the fanfare and chanting in the process of allowing himself to trust in the power of a Wargod.

'Get them above ground, Godseer.... And quickly, as fleet-footed as you can.... I have a feeling we'll be needing the thunder soon.'

'Will do.... See you up there, yeah?', the Priest-King responded, searching the gaze of the vacant-Warseer so as to gauge the God's reaction, though Maaru was quick to nod for confirmation, a quick relief with the impending threat of Swarm-led landings considered. So the last-surviving son of Yan'Sharlim left it at that, understanding the intentions of his one and only celestial ally as he turned to the others with renewed, reignited purpose, holding his still-sheathed Raindancer aloft as he roared,'WARSEEEEEERS!!!! RALLY - ON ME!!!!', to draw their attention for the task ahead. After that, all it took was a simple moment of brief mask-removal, letting the Novanian warrior-monks see the truth of his heart without hiding it behind his wood-carven birthright, a gesture of which many a Novanian would treasure for the rest of their lives.

'FOLLOW ME ABOVE GROUND, OUR WARGOD HAS A PLAN - AND I HAVE SOMETHING TO SHOW YOU!!!!'

-SIYARR AHAN-MITHARRAN-

<"Rainmaker One to Nightmask Actual! We're all set, just waiting for the landings now.">
<"Good work, Varim.... Good luck on the right flank. Nightmask Actual - out!">
​

All the dust and scattered debris had obscured the Brigade's view of Battlefront: West, but the Novanian soldiering caste looked out to the aftermath of the bombardments and manned their posts all the same, and before long everyone would hear crashing thuds near and distant alike; feeling underfoot all that they would be facing in the second wave of attack, predicting the impending mayhem as if they were predicting an earthquake, properly shouldering their blaster rifles as soon as suchlike weapons were heard firing off from other parts of the city.

'Worry not, lads.... The Mother protects her sons, as her sons protect their own in turn.'

They were combat-ready, and over the course of fifteen years, Siyarr had been around long enough to see the small battalion grow in the effective fighting-machine it was by the end of 880 ABY, proud of the fact the Firedance collective were always known to fight their battles unconventionally. Almost by way of strategic and religious design, though in terms of loadouts, their defiance of convention was certainly more blatant; letting preference guide purpose above convention in combat, and yet with all the armour, weaponry, vehicles and ordnance of every sort at their disposal, there would be abundant method in the madness. Though this owed much to the dismay of many a disciplinarian over the years, the training and instruction from the Myrmidons only seemed to amplify a chop-and-change approach to individual combat-loadouts, a preference of fighting-comfort of which Siyarr himself favoured every part as much as his kinsfolk.

Even in the moments of pre-fight tension, the loud silence before the storm, this comfort was seen and felt with a certain tangibility, especially in the visible calm of the warriors poised on either side of the Dreamseer at the time. But like the comfort, the defiance of convention could be seen on full display along with it, especially in the comfort they had in wielding otherwise-obsolete rifles en masse; but for those who were uninitiated in the cultural background of the Novanians, they would never know that the Firedance collective were wielding the weapons of their saviours, wearing the same armour-pieces as their comrades in the Highland Brotherhood. Especially in their trending, collective choices of firearms, almost-religiously adherent to the main battle-rifle of the Galidraan Imperial-State, seeing plenty examples fully-readied, charged with sights well-zeroed for the impending clash, though the Dreamseer's own was an older iteration of his subordinates' favoured model.

The SA 65 battle-rifles were designed and evolved from Siyarr's chosen 35-model for such situations, and the soldiers of Firedance swore by their effectiveness, especially in the latest of battles for the future of Nirauan - fated once again to be tested against the denizens of Darkness.

'WE'VE GOT A VISUAL ON ATTACK-DROIDS!!!! THREE-HUNDRED METRES AND APPROACHING!!!! WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS?!?!'

​

The Dreamseer was ready, but in the moment he tried to reply,'ALL UNITS, OPEN FI-', the Novanians were all dumbstruck by a sudden flash of light, crashing down from the sky above and landing somewhere beyond the Brigade's conventional left flank. By the time their ears were able to detect that tearing roar before the deep rumble, the ground was already shaking with confirmation, amazing everyone to mouth-agape extremes; someone on the esoteric front had achieved something incredible, and in the moment all understood that it was celestial lightning, the explosive chain-reaction (distant though it was) that followed left no illusions as to what exactly the thunderbolt was summoned to strike.

'EYES ON TARGET - OPEN FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!!!!'

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

2ND POST

-YOUR BITTER END APPROACHES-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF THE DARK THREE

Tags: FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Nukth Kelga'an
Aurelian Sigismund Kastav Volff Sylas Albrecht F. Herlock

BECOMING SHADOWS II: DEATH FROM ABOVE - PART 2

OBSERVATION DECK, THE WRATH OF RHIGAR,
APPROACHING NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

<"Great Khan, dropships are going in! Adherent to decoy-ratio, as ordered!">
<"Excellent work, Ghoul. Stand down.... Come join us on the observation deck. Bloodhound - out!">
​

By the time Ghoul arrived, the fruits of his work had already attracted the attention of the Swarm; as for their treacherous half-allies, however, there was no way to know exactly what the Scar Hounds had sent burning through Nirauan's upper-stratosphere, playing into the hands of a tribe the majority had thought to ignore until the old-time novelty eventually struck. Thinking the hordes of Rhigar and Mar'Zambul were little more than two rungs above mere thralldom, dismissing Barran's Marauders as little more than cannon-fodder when Ghoul's sudden strategic actions snapped them out of their apathetic stupors, the plucky Corellian had utilised the lull after all three orbital salvos had been fired, bringing his tribe firmly in sight of those who toed the line between friend and foe.

<"What was that, Marauder? Explain your actions-">
<"-Settle down, they're just droids an' decoys! Metallic fodder.... But now its your turn!">
<"Don't test me, Bloodhound! MY MEN WILL LEAVE NOTHING FOR SCAVS LIKE YOU!!!!">
​

All eyes were turned to the Great Khan by then, as Thomas had quite-pointedly put the Comm-Link receiver on speaker mode, and had from the moment the Swarm's high-command ID showed on the screen, an effective means to remind the Darkhans of the ones who thought they could strong-arm a Horde like the Scar Hounds. Perhaps even a greater means to remind them of the promises made together in hushed, muttered tones, collectively choosing only to commit at certain stages of both the largest planetary assaults, and all for the purpose of whittling the Swarm down to manageable chunks by the time they were done with the Empire.

'Well played.... I like them all impatient that way.... After all - I mustn't forget,"Impatience thins herds". Words of your making by chance, Great Khan?'

​

'Words of Nail's actually. It was him who taught me such things in the early days o' the clique.', the Bloodhound quickly shot back, chuckling as he turned his head to the cyborg looking out to the bombardment fleet beyond, almost expecting the juggernaut to catch what was being said until the transfixed silence was seen in earnest. Compounding it with even-greater impact was the sight of Rook and Dreamer doing the same thing, looking out to the sight of the orbital-bombardments and the answering return-fire from the ground, all three utterly immersed in the proceeding scuffle between opposing naval elements as Thomas continued,'Or at least, it was Nail who taught me the ol',"Impatience thins herds", philosophy.', trying for a second time to prompt a useful response from the cyborg.

'Words of the Mongrel's making, so you're both wrong.... We all learned it from someone, this much can be guaranteed at least, but the first someone is naturally expected to be the tribe's progenitor. The root of all our longest-lived axioms, the root of everything we know.'

 

[Aurelian Sigismund]

AURELIAN SIGISMUND

"There is no enemy. The foe on the battlefield is merely the manifestation of that which we must overcome. He is doubt, and fear, and despair. Every battle is fought within. Conquer the battlefield that lies inside you, and the enemy disappears like the illusion he is."

Equipment: Armour | Sword | Vibro-Claw | Dual-Ranged | Bodyglove
Ship: Eternal Triumph, Pax Imperialis-class
Tags: DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim | FN-999 | Ashel de Stilico | Albrecht F. Herlock | Argilac | Nukth Kelga'an

Direct Partners: Aoki-Barran Mira | Michael Barran

Post IV​

THE LAST OF US
Aquila-Actual​

NIRAUAN SYSTEM, NIRAUAN, WESTERN FRONT
{>LATE ABY 880<}

It did not take him long to move through the streets to the command post of the regiments he was to oversee. He knew the streets, their looks, their architecture. He was here before, to meet its former overlord and then to defend it. Defend it against the same hordes which tried to eradicate now the last bit of what was once the heart and birthplace of the New Imperial Order, a beacon of defiance. But that defiance was shattered, it was replaced by gritted, stubborn people who were clinging to ways which fell when their enemies fell. Sigismund fought alongside these people like he had been before, against the Maw, the Sith, the Alliance and he was here for their brotherhood in arms. Not for their goals.

The the map being updated on his HUD, he found the commander, a Colonel, who was as terrified of his home being attacked again as he was speechless as to what golden monstrosity suddenly appeared out of a street to take the lead. Aurelian had taken a quick glance at what the 'service record' of these units would look like, but it was so unnoteworthy that it was meaningless in the context they were facing. They had been drilled and given weapons, they defended their homes. That was all that mattered. The officers at least had a bit of experience, even if that meant serving in planetary defense before.

"Colonel Draken, I am Aurelian Sigismund and there is little time, so further introductions we will put to the victory feast. Do you have access to the general defense strategy? Do you understand its parts and have units in place as it is intended?"

The Colonel was searching for a response, for words as he was still slightly overwhelmed as to the presence. "Y-y-yes, lord." There was a question mark behind the title.

"Good. You will have the task of holding the men together, make sure that the plan is followed and that all units keep getting their orders. Save ammo and supplies on the soldiers, hit them hard with the heavy guns. If we have to retreat, we can carry rifles, but not cannons. I am always on the vox, remain calm, remember your training and we will get through this. Understood?"

He was bolstered by the fact that the golden angel warrior just told him that the would remain in command. It gave him confidence. Much needed confidence. "Yes, of course, sir." He offered a neat salute and got together with his staff right away to check on the plans for the city and for the possible routes.

"I will be at the frontline, helping the men and you, remain in touch. Furthermore if you have any breaks, there are Skytroopers on my frequency, call them in and you get support quickly where it is needed. Use them wisely. The Empire Prevails, Colonel." With that Aurelian would turn around to move away, but while he would get to the frontline, another broadcast was coming through and the sirens started howling.

Orbital bombardment.

"Cover! Underground! Cellars! Bunkers!" His voice was reinforced by speakers and the soldiers around would get into motion quite quickly, running and searching for the nearest possible options. It was mere moments which passed before the first explosions tremored the ground and echoed through the streets. One followed the other and even the Hegemon had made his way into one of the neighbouring underground stations.

Now they were waiting. Waiting for the enemy to come while the cowered from the unleashed hellstorm outside.

NIRAUAN SYSTEM, NIRAUAN, WESTERN FRONT
{>LATE ABY 880<}

There is no worse enemy for a soldier, no opponent more challenging and no adversary more brutal than the time spent waiting for a battle. It gave opportunity for fear, for thoughts, for imagination to take root where discipline, confidence and training sat before. It was a torture which was aided by the simple fact that any moment a direct hit of the space-based weapons could eradicate you and everyone around you so completely, that not enough for a funeral would be found.

Aurelian knew these thoughts, he knew them, because he had shared them a long time ago. In the wars under Halbrecht and Thexan. It was brutal, before his elevation to what he was today. His memory had never faded since then and he remembered the moments when his golden Knight armor was shattered by grenades, sliced open by the red and blue blades of the Sith and Jedi. He was a soldier, a warrior of justice and he fought with his brothers and sisters, together. Now standing here with a platoon worthy of strangers he did not know and probably would never know. And yet he would fight for them. He would protect them. He would lead them like they were his own men.

Silence.

Was there more?

Five seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. No explosion.

"Rise and reload! Rise and reload! Into your positions!

Soldiers of Nirauan, by our deaths they shall know us! Droid, Marauder, Cultist - show no remorse, show no mercy for they will show none. Your loved ones, your children are depending on you, you are fighting for them, for their lifes! Remember that left and right of you are your brothers and sisters, they stand with you on this dark day, defiant of the shadow coming at us. Together we carry light in our minds, we carry strength in our arms and we carry the triumph in our hearts!

To Victory!"

While his voice echoed for many streets and through the coms, Aurelian was stepping outside the underground entrance, his golden figure a beacon between soldiers rallying and rushing into their positions among smoke and rubble which was left. They were braced, they were full of fire, he could feel it, see it. The sergeants showed an eagerness to improve positions, the company commanders were coordinating the platoons. It was as it should be.

The Zakuulan was checking for the artillery and armored support, the units got the worst of the bombardment, the crews were partly fine, but the equipment was mostly damaged. They had few batteries of artillery left and even less tanks. He sent a short feed to Colonel Draken. "Use artillery, tanks in reserve." But the response he got was not the most promising, the Colonel was dead and a Captain of his staff was now the highest rank in the command post. Captain Daur. Nothing to do about that, hopefully the man would be worthy of the task.

During these seconds the handgun fire started. Aurelian was in the first line and a few positions from him the first shots were fired into the clouds of dust and ash ahead. More blasters started firing, it was methodical and aimed. Good, that means they were not panicking yet.

"Target and deny! Precise fire, give them hell!" One of the platoon officers was yelling as he put his blaster to his cheek and fired as well.

Droids were coming at them, battle droids. That certainly was bad news, but he kept them to himself. They were not exactly fitted with many ion grenades and it would mean they would quickly use their blaster ammo if the Maw send rows upon rows. Smart move, but they had droids too. They had to resist this first wave and then see. The artillery would wreck havoc among the droids if they lived up to their aim but otherwise it was, as always, down to the infantrymen and their rifle.

And a demi-god clad in power armour who stood like a titan on top of the cover, his claw with the integrated weapon extended and giving single shots which destroyed multiple droids at once.

​

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

​

Equipment
Armor	Light Imperial Knight Armor.
Weapons	Imperial Knight Lightsaber.
	Hazukashi, Naginata Pole-Arm.
	Fukaikira, wakizashi short sword.
	Seijo-Ki, tanto dagger.
	Fragarach-model Heavy Disruptor Pistol.

Primary Objective: Protect this world from the Scar Hounds.
Secondary Objective: Keep Michael Barran and as many good soldiers alive as possible, even if it costs her own life.
Location [Start of Post]: Hand Of Thrawn.
Location [End of Post]: Hand Of Thrawn.
Allies: Michael Barran .
Engaging: tba.
Misc. Tags: tba.

H E A L T H - B A R:
| | | - | | | - | | | - | | | - |

~ I S - T H I S - T H E - E N D ~
​

The bombardment seemed to come and go in a matter of seconds. Aoki-Barran had been doing everything in her power to get all the men into the bunkers; and she had barely made it herself. But just as fast as the rain of plasma descended from above, it was gone again.

"So much for a fair fight."

​

"<"Wanderer to Shadow - we best get our warriors back to the surface! Landings in progress, off-ramps are down already! I'll distract them at the breach in the meanti- hold on.... They appear to have sent us droids to scuffle against.... Meh! Could be worse, but the others are still very-much needed. The Swarm sent enough to outnumber us by the looks of it.">"

<"Roger. Be careful out there.">

Aoki-Barran got to work, sending out orders for the men to get out of the bunkers in the fastest and most orderly way possible. Ever ready to protect her troops, Aoki-Barran was the first to emerge. Already, the sound of metallic marching was echoing from above. Ascending to the surface, Aoki-Barran coughed as some powdered debris floated into her lungs. The surrounding landscape most certainly looked glassed, or like a natural disaster had torn through. The smoldering rubble was ablaze and turned over. Not a single building stood like it once had. Despite her cold exterior, Mira internally worried for anyone stuck beneath the rubble. Right now, however, she needed to focus. Michael Barran was in a dangerous dance with those droids, marching through the rubble.

<<"Prepare for battle! Operative ninety two!">>

The squadrons scattered and executed the strategy. Many climbed atop the mounds of rubble and readied their most powerful firearms for brutality. Others found cover behind the damaged durasteel slabs of buildings, and some were setting up EMP traps. Aoki-Barran herself simply walked towards the direction of the marching, her hands to her side as she stared into the thick smoke ahead.

A lone Force User, standing between the droids and her troops. Michael was doing well to divert most of the attention towards himself, but these droids were vast in number. Some slipped past.

The imperial knight raised one hand, extending it towards the droids.

As the first blaster shots rang out, missing her, Aoki-Barran narrowed her eyes. "Goodbye."

Electricity sparked around her fingertips. Then-

A chain variation of Ionize struck, fast as a lightning bolt. Encompassing the swarm of enemies, the attack completely shut the first wave of droids down. Aoki-Barran kept her hand extended, even as more marched through the hazy smoke.

As the next wave started to crawl over the first, Aoki-Barran sent out another chain lightning of Ionite electricity, shutting them down as well. She could sense her men's confidence grow behind her. They were ready. Aoki-Barran took a couple steps back, cool headed as ever.

"Ready."

She sent out another, weaker branch of Ionize. Some more droids fell, but Aoki-Barran was losing her touch after three consecutive strikes. The blaster fire multiplied around her. She activated her imperial lightsaber and blocked some strikes, slipping further back. She kept her cool. She kept the droids focused on her as she sent out another Ionize strike, pathetic compared to the others. She deflected the fire towards the droids the best she could, but they were easily outnumbering her. Still, she remained calm. She took another step back, and she heard a commander shout.

<"NOOOOOW!!!!!!!!!!">

The ambush proved a success. The droids were met with the almighty power of EMP weaponry firing at them from all sides. EMP mines exploded from below their feet. The growing piles of droid models made it harder for the ones further back to advance.

As the troopers cheered at the brief victory, Mira frowned. "Keep at it. I am randevuing with Lord Barran."

She pushed forward. Slicing through more droids with pinpoint accuracy, the Atrisian hybrid followed her father's Force Signature. She slid next to him, cutting down multiple droids in one, clean cut. She stood, her back against his, and reported.

"So far, all is well. We managed an ambush that took out a good chunk of the frontal assault. However, even with us using the rubble to our advantage, we cannot keep the upper hand for long. How many more remain?"

​

 

[FN-999]

NIARAUN - 880 ABY

LINE OF BATTLE

​

ALLIES: Albrecht F. Herlock | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Argilac | Aurelian Sigismund | Michael Barran
ENEMIES: Thomas Barran | etc.
EQUIPMENT: 908th Legion

For a little while after the artillery had ceased firing, all was quiet on the front.

Then, a dust cloud rose on the horizon.
​

“Private, do you have binoculars?” asked the Baron to a nearby trooper.

“No, sir.” replied the trooper. “But my sergeant does. I’ll call him over."

“Sargent! Commander Nines needs your binoculars!”

“Negative.” replied the orange pauldron wearing stormtrooper. “I’ve almost got visual."

“But, the comm-"

“Let the sergeant continue.” interrupted the Baron.

He waited patiently, letting the private fume to himself as the sergeant continued his observations. Only once the officer lowered his binoculars did the Baron turn to face him.

“What did you see?"

“It’s the Scouts."

The Baron let out a sigh of relief. His first, instinctive fear, was that the militia had been flanked and that the 908th was about to take the brunt of the enemy assault. However, now that he knew exactly where his remaining scouts were, he had even less to worry about.

Reaching for his radio, the Baron tried again to contact Flymore.

[Flymore, this is Nines, do you copy?]

No response. He waited thirty seconds before giving up, deciding that he could just meet Flymore in person. He seemed alive and well in their last communication, and he was too smart to have been killed by mere droids. So the Baron changed his radio frequency to that of his legion as a whole and issued out a new set of orders.

[Reborn, this is Nines. Prepare to receive the surviving Scouts and give them top medical priority. We’re gonna be short on live intel for a little while, so brace for the unexpected. We’ve got this. Nines, out.]

Turning off his personal radio, the Baron retreated back towards the front trench line’s central command bunker, where the long-range communications arrays awaited unanswered. Hastily moving inside, the Baron approached the equipment and reviewed the queued transmissions.

"Nines, this is Commodore Herlock. I'll send transport shuttles with medical staff and supplies to the coordinates you transmitted and bring the wounded to the medical facilities on board of my fleet. Herlock out."

Just the shot in the arm the Reborn needed.

Mentally expressing his gratitude to the quick-thinking commodore, the Baron breathed a little easier knowing that his legion was already in better fighting condition than it had been minutes before. Yet, a concerning thought grew ever larger in the Baron’s head, quickly evaporating any optimism.

“Bigfoot, have you received any transmissions from Wildcat One?"

“I’m afraid not.” replied Bigfoot. “If I had to guess, the bombardment probably damaged the fort’s comms. We’re gonna be cut off from HQ for a little while."

“It might be possible to work around that, at least temporarily. Get all the Scouts in good condition and put them on courier duty. Have all messages from HQ sent to whichever trench command is most relevant. I’m heading out to find Flymore, but I hope to see you soon."

“Good luck, Nines."

“You too, Bigfoot."

 

[Michael Barran]

7th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

TAGS
FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Aurelian Sigismund

HOLD THE LINE I: DEFIANT IMPERIUM - PART 7

CENTRAL TOWER, THE HAND OF THRAWN,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

'So far, all is well. We managed an ambush that took out a good chunk of the frontal assault. However, even with us using the rubble to our advantage, we cannot keep the upper hand for long. How many more remain?'
​

Smoke and hot steam billowed from the Lord-Warden's clothes and hair, but in consideration of all he had endeavoured to destroy the droids surrounding him, also the fact he had fallen onto rubble and debris, Michael was certainly more spritely in his movements than he or anyone else could have been under similar circumstances. Cracking his neck both ways and stretching his arms as if he had just gone a round in a sparring-match, in stark contrast to the dangers the Woad had faced before, Barran smiled and replied,'Another burst outwards an' I reckon they'll go for a rearguard-covered retreat, I can hear fewer o' their walking-cadences in comparison to those I heard before.... So there's a chance they're already calculating their chances from a safer distance. Storming tactics won't work for them here, an' I think thats why we're not using the big EMP-bomb yet.', going on to bend his knees and crack the knuckles on his hands in preparation for the next assault.

'Though this means they'll still be able to cover the landing-craft of the Swarm's next wave.... So lets destroy as many droids as possible - let us make use o' the Click Wave.... I know you've been practicing, so lets see how yours has improved since I last saw it.'

​

Tilting his head towards the breach with a sly, unruly smirk, the Wanderer cracked his knuckles as he approached the mountain of rubble and droids with a certain spring in his step, walking as a proud testament to the Brotherhood's War-Cry,"Its all we know!". As despite all that the Goidelic element represented in terms of Imperial ideals, personal policies and aspirations to assure the Pax Goidelica once and for all, they were all (and to each and every tribe on the surface of Galidraan III) still warriors by culture and blood, strugglers and stalwarts at the very root of every last soul. After all, it was in the heat of war's deathly Crucible where chieftains made their peace, finding unlikely reconciliation in the blood-soaked jungles of Generis, agreeing on mutual vengeance on the Sith Empire as their pathway to lasting fellowship.

War as a pathway to Peace.

​

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

8th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags : FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Albrecht F. Herlock Nukth Kelga'an Kastav Volff Sylas

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 8

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

'I'm running through the logs now, Aron. We're online again, but we missed some o' the comm-traffic.'
​

'Good news, we've got some leeway on this end, so make use o' the time now while its still there for us.', the Kellas shot back in quick reply to his polite-spoken subordinate, checking through every gap he could find in the wall as he searched for any sign of advancing droids. It appeared as though they were reorganising for further offensives in the area, but with the skies being clear of landing ships at the time, there was no way for Gowrie to know for certain if his intuitions on the droids were correct or not, seeing no other option at the time but to rest and await for news from the main battlefronts. Aron then pulled out his cigarras, lit one and threw the pack to Carwood, taking a few calming drags before he continued,'So what's the damage, Br'er? I can handle it.', sighing to himself as he considered the sort of devastation wrought by the Swarm already.

'Well, according to the logs here.... Oh, great! We missed traffic on the comm-link from Nines! Lets play this back for both oor sakes.'

[Wildcat One, this is Nines. My scouts have detected enemy droids approaching the eastern front. They will likely be approaching the north and west as well. I would recommend making the most of our EMP attacks right now.]

[Another thing - I suspect that they are sending their weakest in first. They likely want us to exhaust our ammunition on the droids before sending in their organic elites. I recommend that we conserve our supplies as much as we can while still holding the line. At least, until the organics show up.]

[Nines, out.]

​

'Anything to offer that? I mean, I know we've got EMPs here, but are we really better off deploying it now or...?'

With the sigh of disturbed idleness, Gowrie took another few draws from his cigarra, thinking on what the best play could be as he replied,'Rest assured, I'll reply, an' I also think you might be onto something there.... After all, there is, in-fact, an ideal time to utilise them to their best effect, this we know from experience - but thats usually against.... Tracked an' repulsorlift armour - other mechanised contingents!', realising then that the best time to implement such wide-reaching shockwaves was still yet to occur. Standing up as if by knee-jerk reflex, the old Tuath lurched to his feet and arose to take the next urgent step towards victory, opening hands as he concluded,'Aw'right then, pass the receiver - I know now what needs must.', catching the comm-device with the left (and snatching the cigarra with the right) as he weighed the wording of his reply in considered, pensive silence.

<"Gowrie to Nines! My apologies for the late reply, took a while t'get our comm-station up an' running again, but I've been given time enough t'think about the EMP idea.... An' with the general state o' the droid attack, I've reason to believe they're reorganising to support the next wave of attack, thus granting wiggle-room for the plan I have in mind. Though I'll admit now that the following suggestions might sound a wee bit - umm - kooky, to say the least. But hear me out, as it could mean wiping out an entire wave of enemy combatants with ease if we get it right.">
​

The Kellas was chuckling by the time he truly understood the implications of success in his mind, sniggering like a child until he realised what it would take to achieve, especially if success depended almost-entirely on the Swarm's quickness to utilise mechanised firepower in the assault. At this newfound detrimental factor, Gowrie could only clench his teeth and sneer as he took another drag from his cigarra - flicking the last remnants away as he sighed in consideration of the lives Imperium could ill-afford to lose.

<"No way to sugarcoat a certain part o' this so I'll get it out the way first.... If they don't implement armour in the next wave, we could very well be karked here - or at least in terms of optimal EMP-effectiveness. But my prediction, if its any consolation at all, is that we'll be expecting their tanks, artillery an' IFVs within the next two waves. They're getting a little impatient, an' if I'm right about this, we best keep spare armaments an' power-packs switched off nearby.... Better that than a knife-fight with a marauder, am I right?">
​

'Might be a good shout to coordinate that with the rest o' the staffers here, Carwood.'

 

[Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim]

8th post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

GODMASK_ACTUAL

LORD-CAPTAIN OF FIREDANCE BRIGADE(THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD)
HIGH-SHAMAN OF THE SERENNOAN ESOTERIC CHAPTER
PRIEST-KING OF ARCHAIS

Tags: FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Aurelian Sigismund Kastav Volff Nukth Kelga'an

FOR THE ANCIENTS II: IN THE EYES OF THE DEAD - PART 8

Fiyarro District, The Old City,
New Carannia, Nirauan (Late 880 ABY)

'Just one strike was needed, now let us listen for the north's progress.... Still firing - predictable.'
​

In the eyes of the Godseer, Maaru was amazing, seeing the Wargod as a marvel and perhaps for the first time in his life by then; but like the raw power of the skies, like the greatest of all stormy tempests, Yorunarr couldn't help but find his unlikely celestial ally every part as frightening to behold in action. He was thankful to have at least a Wargod as an ally at least, but in light of the shifting sectarian tides on the ground, the Godseer couldn't help but ask,'Why are you helping me? Don't get me wrong, Great One. I appreciate it beyond words - but I am still quite clueless as to what floodgates I've just opened.', to which the Priest-King received warm-hearted mirth in response. However, despite the fact it was far from the desired answer, there was something in the laughter that comforted Yorunarr, almost as if more had been going on before the perceived mistake.

'Why, you ask? Well, thats simple - mine own sister, the Mother Melarria! Thats why! Well, that along with her vile attempt to shine where the reverent would never dare.... War is a bloody business, war is death - we must confuse it not for anything else in life. Its as simple as that.... But you seem like one who understands this, having seen plenty agony, death and anguish in similar abundances I'm sure. I can see it in your eyes, Priest-King.... You needn't have avoided me for so long, nor my temples for that matter.'

​

Looking out across the mass of metallic husks, watching on as the rains simmered the fires burning out from their circuitry, Yorunarr could do nothing but hang his head in shame as he replied,'I have sinned in your name, we both know I am unwelcome in your hallowed halls.... Or at least, we both know I shouldn't be.', revealing more of the suffering that continued to hold out against the warmth of recovery. Not even in the traumatised, near-feral years of his youth did Yan'Sharlim's son even so much as consider calling on Maaru for aid in his darkest hours, not even in the moments before his father's death, only calling on the Creator and Mother of the Ancients for a means to escape the impending bloodshed, to intervene by the simplest, easiest means for a young mortal to understand.

​

'I understand plights like yours, perhaps even more than you would ever care to believe.... And besides - I'm the one who decides the reach of my own welcome, Priest-King. This is for me to judge, not you.'

-SIYARR AHAN-MITHARRAN 2-

'They're retreating - likely regrouping! What now?'
​

Seeing events unfolding exactly as stated by his subordinate, with rifle-zoom set strong enough to confirm it for himself, Siyarr was able to plan accordingly as he exclaimed,'They'll be back, this much is a guarantee! However, you can safely hold your positions here for now - but if you absolutely must, devote time to recharging your power-packs! Leave the long-range work for the snipers, but be sure to resupply the on-duty shooters first! NO EXCEPTIONS!!!!', in a response he hoped all around him could hear with absolute clarity. It would never help to make mistakes on any other battlefront before that day, and New Carannia was no exception, least of all for the fact the Imperials would meet no greater test against chaos, giving the Dreamer all the more justification to use his voice with authority.

'YOU HEARD HIM, FOLKS!!!! MEDICS, SAPPERS, HEAVY-SUPPORT - GET TO WORK ON THE ROOF!!!! POWER-PACKS AND TRIAGE BEFORE YOU THINK OF YOURSELVES!!!! MOVE IT!!!!'

​

Fortunately for the High-Dreamseer, he had elite soldiers on hand to extend that authority to much-louder effect, and when the snipers resumed their activities, Siyarr understood that his own voice would need to rise to such volumes. Almost kicking himself in the assumption that his best friend would know such things, the Dreamer was resigned to attempting thoughts on the task at hand, distracting himself (even though it was but a different sort from an already-distracting train of thought) as his gaze was pulled towards the withdrawing droids in the distance, looking out to the rubble-strewn Fiyarro District when he should have been looking to the skies instead. Not that Siyarr would be kept waiting very long for his cue to look up, as the Holonet hijackers still had more to say - true to form before each wave was inflicted on the Imperials below.

​

 

[Thomas Barran]

//Systems Hijacked//
//Intruder Alert//
//Security Alert//
//Systems Corrupted//
Tags
FN-999 Albrecht F. Herlock Nukth Kelga'an Aoki-Barran Mira
Aurelian Sigismund Argilac Kastav Volff Ashel de Stilico

[x]

I MUST ADMIT THE DROIDS WEREN'T PLANNED
WE HAD PLANS TO THROW IN SOMETHING OF OUR OWN

BUT WE CONTINUE - AND DANCE TO OUR OWN TUNE
​

Though it matters not, for what we do on our own won't lessen your suffering now, it all combines into the same vicious mauling at the end of the day. Nothing that your sort could even hope to turn to your advantage though, and for as long as our Swarm continues to outnumber your own, YOU DANCE IN OUR CADENCE NOW!!!!

WE SET THE PACE HERE - WE CONDUCT THIS SANGUINE SYMPHONY!!!!

Aaaaaah..... Its like a narcotic rush - a rare sensation for a Kaleesh to say the least.

ESPECIALLY FOR A CHARRED, FLESH-BURNED SURVIVOR OF OBEN!!!! Do you remember us? Do the Galidraani remember the atrocities, we know the old Regent does.... We know the slaughter, the torment that weighs on the heart of old Barran most of all.

THE IRONY OF IT ALL!!!!

IF CIVILISATION IS TO LEAN ON ONE OF IT'S DARKEST CURSES, THEN SURELY SUCH FOLLY EARNS IMPERIUM A WELL-DESERVED ANNIHILATION!!!!

And here we are, stepping up to deliver just that.... It feels - DIVINE!!!!!

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

//End Transmission//​

Div-credit: Shaun/Lucien Dooku

 

[Thomas Barran]

3RD POST

-YOUR BITTER END APPROACHES-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF THE DARK THREE

Tags: FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Nukth Kelga'an
Aurelian Sigismund Kastav Volff Sylas Albrecht F. Herlock

BECOMING SHADOWS II: DEATH FROM ABOVE - PART 3

OBSERVATION DECK, THE WRATH OF RHIGAR,
APPROACHING NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

'Comms are lighting up a bit.... They're sending in the mechanised brigades, Great Khan! We going in now?'

​

Walking up to the center of the observation deck with a newfound curiosity, the Bloodhound chuckled a little as he looked down to the burning atmospheric contact, calmly responding,'Nah, likely t'be the next wave though. We'll jus' need t'see if they're successful or not first, before we make any rash decisions here - but I suppose we can afford to mobilise up here for the time-being.... Ready our marauders if ye must, Nail. But I suggest holding off for now, could be missing the festivities here.', with eyes still firmly fixed on the events unfolding below. New Carannia was already aflame in many places, but despite the destruction still underway at the time, it was still almost too easy to see the craterous devastation of the orbital bombardments, serving as inconvenient distractions to the droid-assault they were trying to track at the time.

'Fine.... Lets see what these tanks can do in urban environments first, then I ready our Marauders.'

​

The cyborg's clunking steps paced nearer as the others chuckled at his quickness to appreciate the destruction, that natural allure to the chaos of war, almost as if they could read the heaviest-hitting Darkhan like a book; after all, they were moments away from seeing someone else launch their dropships this time, and it was clear that Nail himself knew the Scar Hounds' full-deployment depended solely on the success of the next landings. This the Bloodhound couldn't begrudge, as despite the small pockets of planetary resistance, Nail was in no mood for hubris that day, nor ever for that matter. But in his eagerness awaited all the violent urges of intent, that which had a chance of risking the finer nuances of their own, personal operation, though Thomas himself knew he could bring his cyborg friend to heel if and whenever required.

'Deal.... An' just like that, the Swarm make their first move - as we have.'

The mission often mattered more than the rage within, but in those when the rage mattered more, Barran had already unleashed him with orders to destroy everything that was within the Smasher's means to destroy, absolving Nail of all that was stifled within the deepest depths of his soul.

'Let the games begin.'

 

[Argilac]

BANNERS OF THE FALLEN II
~What a river don't know is to climb out and heed a line, to slow among roses or stay behind.~

GEARS AND EQUIPMENTS:

Spoiler

Imperial Knights Armor
Greatsaber

OBJECTIVE: DEFEND NIRAUAN AT ALL COST!
ALLIES: Albrecht F. Herlock | Aoki-Barran Mira | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Ashel de Stilico | Aurelian Sigismund | FN-999 | Kastav Volff | Michael Barran | Nukth Kelga'an | Sylas | Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim
OPPOSITIONS: Thomas Barran

​

NIRAUAN, OUTER RIM TERRITORIES

That announcement… Karkin' Maw. Those demon-spawns and their ability to strike fear into men's hearts. I could feel an instant shift of mood in the air, whispered worries and concerned chatters amongst the militia men. The thundering voice of Thomas Barran, the very same fallen son of our Lord Steward, brother of our Lord Warden, blasted through the comms, it did nothing but instantly plunged the spirit and morale of our men. And not just the militias and rag-tag group of fighters, I'm willing to bet. It's also the Generals, the Knight Commanders, all the higher-ups, they were all so familiar with Thomas, and to think what the Maw has done to his tortured soul. The men are scurrying off, taking cover from the first wave of an inevitable orbital bombardment, following orders yet in a chaotic manner, doing so more out of a sense of self-preservation rather than respect of the command.

BOOM! The first impact of the orbital bombardment grazed the soil of Nirauan. BOOM! Debris splattered around the field, slinging and scraping through the skin and flesh of the frightened men of the Empire. BOOM! Rampageous shouting dangled through the comms system, while shrieking cries and sounds of splattered bones each on a perfect decibel to rung forever. BOOM! Sirens are going off, prayers of the Galidraani and Novaian and Yinchorri and Nirauan are clamored. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! And then there is silence. Nothing, for a good minute. The wounded are dragged back, fresh bodies replacing the dead in the front line. We can barely see anything, it was all flames and smokes and fogs.

Then it all was replaced by the clanking march of metals, waves of droids. "DROID INBOUND! READY THE FORMATION, THIS AIN'T HALF WHAT THEY BROUGHT HERE, DON'T YOU DARE LIE DEAD UNDER THE FIRE OF THOSE KARKIN' METAL JUNKS!" The militias set their equipment on the perimeters, spewing ion blasts from their machine guns, throwing EMP grenades, shooting rocket launchers towards the droid army. It wasn't the first line of defense we had earlier, it has been shattered by the showering bombs shot from the orbit. Yet it's still a line of defense. Meanwhile, the Knights, at least I did, jumped to the front of the engagement taking down dozens with each swing, clearing out the flanks with our force power. The droids did manage to push-back the line slightly, yet casualties were minimal, especially amongst the rank of the Imperial Knights. Those droids are no match for the Knights of the Empire, they are no match for the Last Storm of Dubrillion. "COME ON! BRING OUT THE KARKIN' PERVERTS TOMMY BOY!"

​

 

[Albrecht F. Herlock]

Allies : Imperial troops

Foes : Any hostile people/ship

Equipment : Uniform; custom-made blaster; cerermonial sword; telescope

Task Force 58 composition : AIV Napoléon Bonaparte (Legate-class battlecruiser, flagship); AIV Maréchal Davout (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Maréchal Lannes (Pellaeon IV-class star destroyer); AIV Robert Surcouf (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Jean Bart (New Imperial-I class star destroyer); AIV Dixmude (Onager II-class star destroyer); AIV Montfaucon (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV Passchendaele (Onager II-class heavy cruiser); AIV L'Effroyable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Téméraire (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV L'Indomptable (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Le Malin (Harrier-class heavy cruiser); AIV Forbin (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Cassard (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Camerone (Cuirassier-class cruiser); AIV Koufra (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Bir Hakeim (Valiant-class star destroyer); AIV Athos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Portos (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Aramis (Katana-class heavy cruiser); AIV Silencieux (stealth corvette)

Legate-class battleceruiser AIV Napoléon Bonaparte
Commanding officer : Commodore Albrecht Herlock

"Sir the Athos is heavily damaged and is unable to move or open fire and the Cassard has its shields broken."

"Tell the crew of the Athos to abandon ship. Send shuttles to recover the escape pods. And crush those ennemy ships !"

Escape pods took off from the Athos, immediatly recovered by transport shuttles while the medical shuttles were flying from the surface to the four Harrier-class ships, carrying wounded soldiers to the medical facilities. The Onager II-class vessels kept firing with their superlaser siege cannons, taking down ships with every shot. The Koufra and the Bir Hakeim were already far from the battlefield and being repaired in a dockyard.

"Guardian One, this is Commodore Herlock speaking. My fleet is taking heavy damage, we won't be able to hold the ground up here. I have three ships sunk, two of my ships are getting repaired and the others are badly damaged. I'm afraid I'll have to retreat unless you need me on the low orbit to support your forces. Herlock, out !"

 

[Thomas Barran]

4TH POST

-YOUR BITTER END APPROACHES-

THE_BLOODHOUND
GREAT KHAN OF THE SCAR HOUNDS
WARDEN OF RHIGAR & MAR'ZAMBUL
DIVINE CHAMPION OF THE DARK THREE

Tags: FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Nukth Kelga'an
Aurelian Sigismund Kastav Volff Sylas Albrecht F. Herlock

BECOMING SHADOWS II: DEATH FROM ABOVE - PART 4

OBSERVATION DECK, THE WRATH OF RHIGAR,
APPROACHING NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

~=COME ON! BRING OUT THE KARKIN' PERVERTS TOMMY BOY!=~​

'Heh!'

Surprised by the sudden outburst of mirth, Rook took a sidelong glance at his Great Khan for a moment, looking into the bloodhound's one good eye as he inquired,'Something funny, Brother?', thinking aloud in his usual forthright manner. The wild-hearted Arkanian understood enough that it wouldn't be a mirth of petty, nonsensical sorts, but in the understanding of the powers wielded by the Great-Khan, Rook quickly surmised it was likely something that everyone either missed or lacked the power to catch as the Bloodhound would.

'Telepathic challenge from the planet's surface.... But not from my brother, this voice is new to the mind.'

​

Sniggering again, the one-eyed Woad shook his head in disbelief of the Force Wielder's challenge, though more-specifically in the surprise of the taunting content within the challenge from the planet's surface. Even whilst the weight of the Swarm's armoured might was falling from orbit to make short work of the Imperials below, even whilst the city was awash in smoke, blood and the stench of death, the Force-Wielder didn't seem at all fazed by the prospect of impending doom, but instead stood as a perfect example of what the ideal opponent embodied in the latter decades of the Ninth Century ABY. It was worthy of the Bloodhound's respect, much like that earned by his father when he fought the Mongrel for the first time, but in his appreciation for the taunting nature of the challenge, Thomas groaned in the disappointment of inability to allow for such distractions.

'Oh.... No time for that.... Not this time anyways - KARK, MAN!!!! THAT COULD'VE BEEN A TASTY SCRAP TOO!!!!'

​

After the outburst, it was the Darkhans' turn to chuckle as if it were an inside joke, though on this occasion Barran would be fully-aware of what the others found to be funny; not that it required the art of divination to know, and especially not with the Bloodhound's love for fighting considered, thus the Darkhans' laughter would always be easier to discern than his own in turn. They understood their Great Khan more than most ever would in this fashion, and when Dreamer eventually muttered,'All in good time, Brother Thomas.... All in good time.', all the affirmation Barran needed was offered as if by effortless ease. The last-remaining survivors of the Tri-Lunar Clique (and coincidentally the first ever to ascend to such high-standing in the tribe) had earned their right to call their Khan,"Brother", and as according to the one-eyed Woad's estimation, earning such rights ten times over.

'My thanks, Brothers.... Now, let me handle this challenge. Enjoy the show.'

~=It seems someone thought I wasn't listening.... Interesting fellow, aren't you?=~
~=Fortunate you are that I have other targets in mind. But your time will come - be patient.=~

 

[DECEASED Aron Gowrie]

9th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

WILDCAT_ONE
TRIBAL-CHIEFTAIN OF AN-TUATHA
LORD-GENERAL OF IMPAF
SWORD OF THE VALKYRIES

Tags : FN-999 Argilac Aoki-Barran Mira Ashel de Stilico
Albrecht F. Herlock Nukth Kelga'an Kastav Volff Sylas

TRIBULATIONS OF THE WILDCATS VIII: THE LAST TRIBULATION - PART 9

FORT DEFIANT, THE MYRMIDON QUARTER,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (880 ABY)

'Damn.... I'm not so sure we're getting through t'Nines here. Get a technician, I'll see what can be done here.'
​

Sighing dejectedly in a moment to suppress his irritation, the tough-hearted Lord Carwood then nodded his affirmation, quietly responding,'Alright, I won't be long.... But please, do us both a favour an' plan our next step while the time's there for us.', standing up with a growl as he made to leave. But just before the Woad stepped out into the connecting hall to shout for help, he stopped in his tracks to state,'This could be our last fight, Aron. Lets make it count, shall we?', before he finally set to the task of finding the right repair-technician.

'TECHNICIAAAAAAAANS, REPORT!!!! WE NEED REPAIR-TECHS UP HERE!!!! SOUND OFF!!!!'

​

With a dejected sigh of his own, Lord Aron grimaced as he watched the movements on the Holographic top-downs, shaking his head whilst trying his utmost to remain patient under the circumstances, as there was more than a cool-headed mindset to keep by then. A predicament of which none would ever dare to envy openly, but in the tense nature of the strategic application for which he was hoping Nines would (or rather, could) hold out, it wouldn't take long for the beneficial patience to find it's purpose. Thus the cigarras would be brought out for added calm once more, and in the moment Aron pulled out just one, the fleeting-traffic projection lit up with an array of flashing red-coloured blips, bringing out yet another grimace as Gowrie lit up and sighed again.

I only have one hope to get the message through.... Think, old man.​

'Argilac could be my only hope here.... Here goes nothing.'

<"Gowrie to Argilac! We have incoming, an' if it's tanks, IFVs an' the like - we may have a chance t'use our EMP-bomb.... But we need to see if it is or not, as switching off our own devices at the wrong time could be catastrophic, an' I need t'be sure - so keep spare devices handy and powered-down until the shockwave passes! Pass the word along if you can hear me.... Wildcat One - Out.">

 

[Michael Barran]

8th Post

-THE BITTER END APPROACHES-

CAIRN_ONE
RINGLEADER OF THE PELLAEONIST CLIQUE
WARDEN OF THE IMPERIAL KNIGHTS
DRUID-GRANDMASTER OF THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

TAGS
FN-999 Aoki-Barran Mira Argilac Aurelian Sigismund

HOLD THE LINE I: DEFIANT IMPERIUM - PART 8

CENTRAL TOWER, THE HAND OF THRAWN,
NEW CARANNIA, NIRAUAN (LATE 880 ABY)

Aye, as predicted.... They're regrouping.

But it didn't stop them from sending another wave - strange programming, so it is.
​

It was a risky situation, no matter what way the Imperials turned, and the Hand of Thrawn's protectors were no exception.

'CONTACT SOUTH!!!!'

But the Wanderer and his shadow were ready, and with lightsabres kept to their hips, Michael and Mira had chosen to let fly with the tried-and-tested Click Wave technique instead, letting their powers do the talking as droid after droid fell or exploded under the pressure of the Force-driven impacts. Such power was greater than effective in their courtyard's surroundings, offering protection and cover for the Highlanders holding their own corners by conventional, soldiering means; and despite the time-consuming nature of the fight that unfolded around them, and despite the great mechanised multitude that was headed their way, the father/daughter duo held firm against the battle-droid envelopment despite it all.

'Mira, rotate leftward - I want a crack at this lot!'

With a shunt, Mira's left shoulder coaxed her father's right to motion into a counter-clockwise pivot, lining Michael up for the next part with ease whilst handling more than her fair few droids at the new, northward angles offered in that smallest of subtle tactical movements. Serving as a testament to the deepest trust one can understand in any given fight, serving as the greatest of visible, audible proofs of familial cohesion under warfighting duress, it would be in these expressed proficiencies that the Druids and Highlander troops would find their own morale again, regaining all they believed that was lost in the Battle of Exegol, and all they thought was impossible to regain in war's ever-burning Crucible.

The very spirit of Imperium was making it's stand within the hearts of it's champions.
Within the hearts of it's soldiers, and within the hearts of those who were losing all hope before.

​

 

[FN-999]

NIARAUN - 880 ABY

LINE OF BATTLE

​

ALLIES: Albrecht F. Herlock | DECEASED Aron Gowrie | Aurelian Sigismund | Michael Barran | etc.
ENEMIES: Thomas Barran | etc.
EQUIPMENT: 908th Legion

There was a sudden crackling on Bigfoot’s long-range comms.
​

He paused to open the message, his eyes widening as he realized just who had sent it and for what purpose. Immediately, he dialed Nines’ frequency, hoping there was no interference between the Baron’s helmet comms and the long-range.

[Nines, this is Bigfoot. Wildcat’s got comms up again, you’ve got a message. I’m airdropping a file with the transcript.]

Almost immediately, a response came through.

[Bigfoot, this is Nines. I’ve received the message. I’m reading it through now.]

<"Gowrie to Nines! My apologies for the late reply, took a while t'get our comm-station up an' running again, but I've been given time enough t'think about the EMP idea.... An' with the general state o' the droid attack, I've reason to believe they're reorganising to support the next wave of attack, thus granting wiggle-room for the plan I have in mind. Though I'll admit now that the following suggestions might sound a wee bit - umm - kooky, to say the least. But hear me out, as it could mean wiping out an entire wave of enemy combatants with ease if we get it right.">

<"No way to sugarcoat a certain part o' this so I'll get it out the way first.... If they don't implement armour in the next wave, we could very well be karked here - or at least in terms of optimal EMP-effectiveness. But my prediction, if its any consolation at all, is that we'll be expecting their tanks, artillery an' IFVs within the next two waves. They're getting a little impatient, an' if I'm right about this, we best keep spare armaments an' power-packs switched off nearby.... Better that than a knife-fight with a marauder, am I right?">

Nines paused in the middle of the connector trench as he processed Lord Gowrie’s words.
​

With the Baron’s own Scouts thrown into disarray following the initial bombardment, it was likely that Lord Gowrie’s intel was better than his own at this point. He had no reason not to believe that the marauders had armor and artillery, as both were essential for urban warfare. The Baron hesitated at sparing his remaining EMPs, wanting to keep as much of the militia intact as possible to slow down any mechanized advance. However, it seemed as if Lord Gowrie knew something that he did not. Perhaps it was due to the nature of the battle, which pitted Galidraani commanders against Galidraani commanders. Or perhaps it was something else, something that only experience could bring out.

Either way, the Baron decided to trust Lord Gowrie. For now, at least.

[Nines to Bigfoot. Send a transcript of this message to all trench command centers. Cromie’s artillery is to hold fire until ordered to re-engage. Recall all couriers to the trenches, long-range has been restored. Double-check that all anti-tank munitions are properly stored.]

[Got it.]

[Also, send a transcript of the following message to Wildcat One. This is Nines, your plan has been received. I accept your proposal, though if things go awry I will implement a Plan B.]