POST #1 - OBJECTIVE 2: RAMPARTS AND ONSLUAGHTS
//LOCATION:// Main Avenue South of Market Square
//ALLIES:// Cameron Farwell
//ALLIES IN VACINITY://
Belisarius
,
Hadrian Javik,
Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
,
Sam 'Tempest' Deckard
//ENEMIES://
Kascalion Giedfield
,
Lord Kizash
//THEME://
The world was slow to bleed back into focus. Vision came in blurred, with undulating shapes and shadows. The sensations of touch came next, vibrations of explosions, the heat of flames and the unmistakeable slick feel of flowing blood. Only sound refused to come, instead replaced by a long monotone ringing that pounded with the blood dripping from High Knight Marshal Zovesa’s ears.
Shaking and her vision spinning, the Chiss Force Corps commander crawled her way up a street now decorated with charred craters, debris, shrapnel, limbs and bloodied pools baking in the heat of flames. Her mind tried to stabilize the sensory overload it was combating. Unable to make sense of the present it plunged into the near past.
Zovesa long with her Force Corps Knights were assisting a Stormtrooper Patrol Unit which had stationed itself at the far end of one of the main avenues that lead into Lo-Hold 3’s Market Square. She had been beside one of the Occupier hover-tanks when a heavy hauler model land speeder was stopped for inspection. When one of her Knights was conducting a Force Perception inspection of the occupants the world went white and then silent, leading to where she was now.
Zovesa’s mind continued it’s own internal crisis management when she reached the smoldering wreckage of an upturned hovertank. Dragging herself she reached out to grabbed a piece of twisted metal to prop herself up. Pulling herself close she helped turn herself around and gently sit down, with her back against the wreckage. She let out a couple bloody coughs and dropped her head into her hands.
Her black gloves were shredded from clawing over shrapnel and cuts across her fingers stung as the hot air and sweat dripped over the wounds. Her face was also scratched up. She could taste blood on her lips. A gash had formed down her bottom lip and another cluster of slashed cuts occupied her cheeks and forehead. Lowering her hands Zovesa clenched ever muscle in her body and let the pain shock herself awake. She turned her head to the side and now became aware of her situation. Everything was ruin in fire.
Bodies of her Knights, their Auxilia accompaniment, and the members of the tank crews were strewn about in bits and pieces. Sheer carnage. Zovesa’s breathing became heavy and she fumed. Rage. It was natural in battle, vengeance the comfort. But, such emotions, while necessary lead to the paths of the profane monsters who had perpetrated this. She would temper these darker emotions into a far more practical focus – determination and will.
Zovesa touched her chest and sighed in relief that some part of her combat vest was intact – specifically the shoulder mounted pouch that held her lightsaber. Removing it from her vest she gripped it tight around her palm, squeezing it into a nerve shattered lock. Placing a hand on the tank and crouching she she walked around the tank and crept across the wreckage. She needed to find survivors. Blaster fire however ricocheted off of the tank as she almost stepped out into the open. Zovesa jolted backwards and hid.
The pounding of the red beams made Zovesa flinch as her tired body instinctively shuddered at the disturbances. She clenched her teeth and pressed the saber’s activation button. A white beam hissed open and shot up. Pooling the Force into her other hand, she spun out of her hiding spot and rushed into the open.
Throwing up her palm she created a Force Barrier that would give her precious seconds to assess the attackers before the bodily pain would weaken the density of her barrier. From the bouncing blaster fire she could see a trio of cultists running in a maddened charge at hire, emptying the power pacs of their blasters with wild disregard. Flexing her fingers the barrier exploded into a telekinetic blast that spat out a shockwave, bombarding the cultists enough to interrupt their firing. Zovesa then threw her saber in a Force controlled throw that whirled in a smeared disc of silver fury that cut across all three. From the lower chest of one to the neck of the last it carved a diagonal streak of death before whirling back to Zovesa’s hands.
Zovesa wanted to collapse but, she knew she had to move even faster now. She broke into an excruciating sprint and the dove behind land speeder that had been parked by the street side. She took some deep panting breathes, hoping the infusion of new air would satiate the crying wails of her muscles. There were more screams. At first she feared it was another group of cultists but, when she transfixed her muffled hearing she could make out the language of soldiers calling out enemies and orders.
Hurriedly crawling, she peaked around the landspeeder to see a group of troopers. Some of her Auxilia and remnants of the Occupier Tank Crew Platoons. They were pinned down by a concentration of cultist blaster fire coming from behind another destroyed hovertank and by a secondary grouping rushing to reinforce.
She had to act. Zovesa cursed at her body and demanded it to comply. She sprang up and ran across the street to reach them. She would cut off the reinforcing group first. Her open hand curled into a talon like clawing grip and it spat small tendrils of the Force that wrapped itself around debris – shattered concrete, bits of glassteel and shrapnel. Infusing them with great energy, she launched them forward with the punch of her claw forward.
As if fired from flak guns, they erupted out as lethal projectiles peppering the reinforcing group. Some were knocked out, some killed by the impact and others concussed slightly. Zovesa didn’t stop to confirm, she change course and charged into the space between the cultists firing from behind the hovertank and the pinned troopers. Using her skills in the Shien form, Zovesa spun her saber in arching swipes that caught and carried the laser bolts back at the cultists. And when her strength and reflexes began to fail her she sent the other bolts flying away.
“Move! Move!” she screamed back at the pinned group (
Cameron Farwell ).
“Move forward!”
Cheapshot
had somehow perfected in all of her time in Darkstar squadron. Battling it over voice comms was something that he doubted he would win. The men enjoyed it, keeping their minds off of the daunting task that was to come. Escape was never easy - and escorting other ships in an escape was even worse. Acceptable losses more than 0 was far too much for the New Imperial Order to handle. 
