Battlegrounds | CIS Dominion of Ord Padron

[Daxton Bane]

They say war is a canvas of people’s hopes and dreams, clashing in violent unison and explosive fruition. Poetic, yes, for Daxton it was a tuesday. The Zabrak’s existence was for the blood, the pain, the utter chaotic madness of it all. This was something few really knew or understood, but for the Sith it felt godlike to bring an end to few to make a new beginning for others.

A smug smile creeped across his lips and he surveyed his handiwork, blaster shots and corpses everywhere, dozen burn marks scouring his once pristine armor from undeflected shots. The floor was slick in the rapidly cooling multi colored hued blood of his victims, spiralling in weird sprays and spurts, like a mad artist on dream dust.

The plan had worked, blowing up the power grid was like a master level presentation by the galaxy’s best performers, save that instead of applause there was only silence and the stench of the recently deceased. Far better performance in his opinion and practical as well.

Within minutes of the explosion the comms began arriving of strange black shadow beasts attacking before getting cut off. The illusion had worked as planned disguising the presence and numbers of the infiltration squad, before Daxton took out communications all together. Now the defenders cowered in the dark with so means of organizing. Easy pickings for the Confederate forces lead by [member="Darth Metus"].

As Daxton exited the room, he toss over his shoulder some high explosive ordinance to shred whatever remained inside once the doors closed. This battle was far from over and he was just starting to enjoy himself.

 

[Aya Clarke]

• Post 5: Finale
• Ally Present: [member="Arlox"]

Aya nodded, though Arlox was not present. She wiped her sword clean, slowly, and sheathed the beloved blade with a sigh. "A victory it is." She would follow the advancing droids further into the base, though not again drawing her blade. There was little point to it, considering that by the time the General stepped into the command center, there were no resistance left to face her. Taking the liberty of the situation, she would be the first to initiate the signal from her new vantage point. With only a modicum of assistance, the Crucible outpost's communications switched over to Confederate channels, with a repeated broadcast of the CIS victory. If there were any sensible left they would be surrendering, as there was nothing left to fight for. Aya was not one to take part in senseless slaughter, after all. Though, she suspected, they would not so willingly give up.

Whenever she would finally take her leave of the place, she would remember to send [member="Darth Metus"] a thanks for his instruction. As she put it simply, it proved useful.

 

[Sol Damerin]

Location: Headed toward Western Depot for Defoliator Stockpile
In the Company Of: [member="Srina Talon"]
Post Count: 2

Taking the warehouse had been relatively easy. The guards had been prepared for many things but being stormed on multiple fronts and multiple Force users was something that was hard to prepare for. He'd cut through many of the guards moving through groups one or two at a time. His skill with battle precognition and Force sense allowed him to locate and spring upon each group without much issue and once he was in their midst there was little they could do against him.

Say what you will about lightsabers there was few if any weapons that could compare to them in close quarters. When you combine that with dropping down in the midst of a group of people with blasters with a Force aided jump you could easily spread chaos and disorder. Sol hadn't even had to kill half the people that he'd ambushed since they often tried to gun him down in a panic and he'd either dodged or deflect the close range blaster fire back at them.

Once the area was secure he comes out from an aisle only to have the broken body of a Trandoshan dropped at his feet. The killer was the young Echani woman, his stony gaze briefly checking for injuries. Finding none he shakes his head. "Not anymore." While it was a fairly innocuous reply it spoke volumes about what he'd been up to. As usual his style may not be as flashy as some but it was never the less effective.

Srina's gaze tracks a pile of crates and within moments she is remarking that these were the defoliators. Well, mission accomplished apparently, a bit dull but he couldn't complain the work had been easy and he was getting paid. He assisted with securing the crates onto the transport wondering what would happen to them. He'd thought they'd be destroyed but as Srina gave her final order he wasn't so sure.

Looking at the young woman he purses his lips. Leave none alive. She was being trained by a Sith so perhaps such a ruthless order shouldn't have come as a shock. However, the absence of mercy was slightly disheartening to him. He had nothing against killing but if someone surrendered to him he'd allow it. Was the young woman falling to the darkside? Maybe, it wasn't his concern if that was the route she wished to take but it was slightly disheartening. Then again, he'd feel that way if she walked the path of the Jedi as well. Balance was what he believed in when it came to the Force, balance and being a good person. With a shrug of his shoulders, he makes no move to assist in cleaning up the camp. He'd done what he was paid to do.