Behold, A Pale Horse! [T1 Dominion of Janara]

[Kayla Wylen]

Post 4
BYOO

The battle didn't last long. The organized Ren forces quickly overpowered the opposition and either killed them or captured them, leaving Kayla to look after the minor wounds her brothers and sisters had suffered. It was nothing of note and after a minimal amount of time they were all ready to get back into action, but that was not the plan just yet. "Has everyone been looked at?" The Knight in charge had walked up to Kayla to see if they were ready to continue, to which she nodded. "I just finished the last checkup. Everybody should be ready to get going." She collected her items and placed them back into the bag as the Knight walked to the center of the room they were in.

"I have already sent Ameus to bring the prisoners to Avalonia. In the meantime we are going to level this building." He paused for a moment, making sure everybody understood. "After investigation we have found this is one of their comms stations. We take this out, they will be much less organized. Miro, Galam, Wylen, you three will be planting the explosives. Meet the others outside when you're done." The trio nodded and immediately went to collect the explosives in question, then moved to the bottom floor to plant them.

Some time later the three Disciples emerged from the building once more. "Everything is in place," the s'kytri mentioned as the group went to back off to a safe distance. From there the explosives were detonated, bringing down the structure by removing it's foundation. When the dust settled there was nothing but wreckage left. "Good work. Our work is not yet done however. There are more buildings like that one, and they must all be taken down."

 

[Ria Misrani]

Post 10
Objective III
10th Company, 3rd Platoon

​

The blood stained waters surrounded the officer as his white coloured armor waded through. Thick plastoid hands grabbed at the captain's pauldrons. She wasn't dead this much he knew from the vital monitor badge built in her suit. "Captain Baxter!" Ranulph's deep, modulated voice called to her through the cacophony of war.

He watched her lurch forth from the shallows her forearm clasp against his side as she got to her feet. "Leftenant Tarkin," her accent still as thick as ever from the depths of Otera, a proud city state from the world of Riflor. Her helmet turned to face the shooting gallery that faced them all. The roar of slugs and blasters peppering the shores, artillery shells that whistle with the promise of death. "Gather your men and head up the hillside near landing site Amsel, I'll head up and around landing site Graush." Both their eyes were reverted to the sounds of the 121st's landing, bodies crumpled like the Jedi Temples of Coruscant bending to the Sith's deception.

Ranulph nodded in acknowledgment and pivoted away from the Captain who called for her troops to rally. "103rd! RISE!" He shouted through the helmet vox systems. Blaster at the ready as he pulled it from over his shoulder. He needn't look down his sights the man could see clear as day the fight before him. "Reinforce the 102nd!"

The 102nd Shoretrooper Platoon were getting massacred. He let loose his trigger and watched as the bright crimson ripped through the air burning through the Janaran soldier, blood seeped through his body as the crimson bolts of blaster tore through the rest of the man's torso. "Strovenko! Grenade! At your eleven!" The lieutenant shouted to the Corporal who immediately detached a frag from his belt and tossed it without incident into the fray.

 

[Shay Marek]

He looked around, checking if his lightsaber was still intact. He coughed once or twice. And checked if he was bleeding anywhere. Seeing nothing, the disciple got up. Looking around to see if there was any enemies. Seeing none, he sighed in relief and walked at his master, [member="Kyrel Ren"].

 

[Alleycat]

Post 1
Objective III
10th Company, 3rd Platoon
w/[member="Ranulph Tarkin"]
___

For this military engagement, Sergeant Sasha Starkos had been attached to the First Order's 103rd Stormtroopers with Captain Baxter commanding. The Scout trooper did not know the female officer in charge, but she was familiar with her second, Lieutenant Ranulph Tarkin. The red-haired Corellisi still remembered the man's mesmerizing blue eyes from meeting him briefly on Cerea at FIMB Horus; the First Order's newly minted military base named for Horus Nelson, the Lord Admiral of the Commonwealth, who had been a staunch ally of the Imperial faction, and a savior to them during the Omega Event.

Sasha, being a Commonwealth Marine Corps sniper previously, had been invited to the induction ceremony of other CW personnel into the First Order's military since the spacefaring faction based out of Alexandria disbanded. It was a bittersweet moment for those in attendance, but life goes on, and the Corellian-born had already made the best of it having joined the FO Stormtrooper Corps just before the war with the Galactic Alliance began. "Fire Lily" was ahead of her former comrades in that regard.

The 102nd Shoretroopers were already getting hammered by the Janaran forces as the 103rd's landing crafts hit the shore behind them. They too soon took enemy fire. Sasha put her head down and powered through the fray on her 74-Z speeder bike to some cover of a washed up log further inland probably from a storm that had a sizable sand berm built up around it just missing the big explosion that had sent some of their ranks flying in the air. She stayed focused as others checked for wounded and reached into her scout trooper backpack, pulling out a R-4 recon droid. Quickly the young sergeant activated it and sent the droid on its way to do reconnaissance ahead. The intel would be sent to the HUD in her helmet to which she could relay to her superiors as it came back.

"103rd! RISE! Reinforce the 102nd!" came the rallying order from LT Tarkin. With that, Starkos readied her sniper rifle to give rear guard to the advancing force, watching for energy emissions and targeting them down field, or in this case up field as the platoon moved to take the hillside.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Post 11
Objective III
10th Company, 3rd Platoon

​

​

The grit of the sand grasped the white of Ranulph’s armour as he led his men along the shores, his helmet turned to see the Jumptroopers, Skytroopers as they were often referred to by their fellow Stormtroopers. Heavily armored men looking more like titans, or terminators by their sheer size with jet packs and heavy blasters, flamethrowers and rotary cannons that looked like as if they belonged on a tank. The 121st was a fearsome unit but his focus laid elsewhere it laid ahead of him as the water rushed in and took away the bodies of the 102nd.

The 102ndwas supposed to be the front clearing out the traps and mines, they were instead being slaughtered. Pinned down by machine nests high above the hillside where the unit was supposed to flank around. Strovenko’s frag grenade detonated near a pillbox disorienting those inside but did little to harm them. Still, it had been enough for the still glistening armour of the 103rd to get in. Almost immediately their hands went to the beige-sand colour armour lined with patterns of a coral red and dark browns. Using his helmet HUD database Ranulph easily identified that the 102nd’s Captain was gone, Captain Alistair Duncan may his soul find peace in the afterlife.

Lieutenant Eleanor Brumsfeld was in charge now and she was doing her best to consolidate her forces and get an accurate headcount. Unfortunately, the platoon had been divided with Staff Sergeant Roderick Lyons on the far side, Lyons was too heavily pinned by enemy fire to move. The lieutenant and his squad were closer to Lyons than Brumsfeld. He let loose another barrage of blaster fire, crimson wisps flared forward burning into the pitiful armour that had been the Janaran soldiers. Strovenko on his left, Dmitri on his right, Grant just behind him and Viramontes to the right behind as well.

Roars of mortars erupted from their berth, “take cover!” He shouted shoving Dmitri down whilst grabbing for Strovenko. “Keep going, we must reach the 102nd.” Ranulph himself began to crawl, arm pulls after arm pulls dragging his body behind him. “Staff Sergeant Lyons, this is Lieutenant Tarkin of the 103rd. We’re here to help, let us take your wounded and reinforce your flank.”

“Aye, you better sir, we’re getting rained down from those bloody boxes on the hill,” Lyons replied on the helmet communications, his voice’s tone masked by the modulator. “Cannae gets to Brumsfeld, artillery fire as big as the landing crafts broke open our ranks.”

Ranulph turned his attention to the boxes on the hill where the Janaran forces sat so comfortably, he knew the 121st was behind them that much was true but there was no telling on how long it would take them to reach the boxes. Or, if they could hold out for that long, “right we need rockets.”

“Aye, and would you guess which lovely lass has those?”

“Brumsfeld, okay, get her and then the rockets.” Ranulph and his unit scraped and scrapped their way into the same line of the trench as the Staff Sergeant in question as the sounds of death made itself known. Body parts flew overhead, pieces of armour and shrapnel accompanied them as blood sprayed out, “Starkos, Starkos you read me? Take two snipers and move to get a position on Brumsfeld.”

​

[member="Sasha Starkos"]​

 

[Alleycat]

Post 2
Objective III
10th Company, 3rd Platoon "Bloody Banthas"
w/[member="Ranulph Tarkin"]
___

Sniper Team Alpha​

​

​

“Starkos, Starkos you read me? Take two snipers and move to get a position on Brumsfeld.”

Sasha followed through on her already lined-up shot, increasing the pressure steadily on the trigger at the end of her respiratory cycle until the blaster bolt rang out hitting its target right in the sweet spot of the Janaran soldier manning an E-web cannon peppering the beach front, then the scout trooper responded to the urgent hail from Lieutenant Tarkin.

"Copy that, sir... STA on the move," Starkos keyed back over the Bloody Bantha's comm channel, then quickly began breaking down her sniper rifle as she located Karvo and Hellis.

"Alright, boys... We're heading to Brumsfeld's position. She's feeling the heat and has the goods," the sergeant advised on a private frequency to the other two members of the elite sniper team attached to the 103rd with her words drenched in a smooth Corellian accent that still came through the mechanical distortion known to happen with helmet to helmet communications.

"And don't even go there, Karvo... She's way out of your league to begin with, and the LT benches twice what you do," Sash smirked with an amused chuckle knowing where the young man from Skye's mind was already going.

A couple of crouched strides behind the sand berm that was giving her cover and a well-practiced side-leap had the Corellisi atop her speeder bike, then the scout trooper was zooming forward full throttle through the fray, juking and jiving firing the Ax-20 blaster cannon mounted on the front. This was how the spirited redhead liked it; going mach ten with her hair on fire. It reminded "Fire Lily" fondly of the time she won the Junior Championship Division of swoop racing on her homeworld of Corellia. Time and major events had changed so many things in the galaxy. It really did seem like another lifetime and not just ten years old.

"Brumsfeld. Starkos.... Have you in sight. Be ready in thirty." she notified the pinned down lieutenant from her new sniper location, ignoring the stinging pain on the lateral side of her thigh from a grazing blaster burn just below where the limited scout trooper armor didn't cover.

[member="Jackson Mills"]

 

[Jackson Mills]

Objective III
10th Company, 3rd Platoon

Staff Sergeant Jackson Mills was new to the first order Stormtrooper Corps, having only just signed the dotted line transferring him from the now defunct Commonwealth to serving under the command of the First Order military, and already he was caught in the thick of it. 'That didn't take long.' He mused to himself silently, his faint ironic smile hidden from his charges by the new helmet. Despite his worries about a culture shock, he had been pleased to have his suspicions confirmed: Grunts in one faction are no different from grunts in another faction. They all griped, they all wanted to get home at the end of the day, but the First Order troops tended to do it a bit more quietly. As the ship descended further into the atmosphere he could hear the sounds of artillery shells exploding below, and AA rounds exploding to the sides. The ship rocked and jolted with the near misses of enemy flak rounds, and he could feel the tension in the craft rise. He stood up and took his place near the exit doors, then raised his voice so that every trooper in the bay could hear him.

"Alright troops, this is it. I won't waste your time with speeches about glory or honor or training, just remember this: Keep moving. They undoubtedly have every inch of that beach pre-sighted by artillery, and they will have repeaters set up. Keep moving, get off of the beach, and take cover where you can find it. Keep the sand out of your weapons, that crap will foul up anything." The lights in the compartment shifted from red to green, and every soldier stood and prepared to exit the craft. "I'll see you on the beach." He finished, and the door opened.

"Go, go, go! Move it!" He shouted as the sounds of battle shifted from muted to crushing. He charged off of the craft and into the water, the first out of his particular craft. The urge to turn back and shelter in the landing craft hit him, but he was a combat veteran and his instincts were fully in play. He waded through the water as blaster bolts flew past him, impacting the water just inches from him. A trooper next to him caught a bolt in his right shoulder, he barked out a cry of pain then stumbled backwards into the water. Mills continued to push forward.

After what seemed like an eternity he reached the forward trench line and jumped in. Following immediately behind him were six of the troopers from his original squad of twelve. "The others?" He said to Corporal Bishop who was crouched in the trench next to him.

"Nichols, Vitelli and Mansfeld bought it for sure. I didn't see the others." He said, breathing heavily.

"We've got to get the hell off this beach and kick the enemy out of those defensive positions. We're sitting ducks out here." He turned and looked down the line, and spotted Lieutenant [member="Ranulph Tarkin"]. He keyed open the comm and reported, "Lieutenant, this is second squad. We're down in numbers but are combat effective. Standing by for orders."

[member="Sasha Starkos"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jTgkTEDDog[/media]​

​

OBJECTIVE III - POST 12
103RD AKA THE BLOODY BANTHAS

BRUMSFELD'S POSITION:

"Reading you loud and clear, Starkos," Lt. Brumsfeld acknowledged as she looked over her shoulder, the HUD's vision was muddied through the dirt covered helmet. The woman wiped the mud from her visor and grappled her gear, ready to bug out when told. Repeater fire with slugs made it near impossible for the lieutenant and her two men to move, she had with her Corporal Malachai and Private Fredrickson, the two were quite young and yet they stuck by her side. "You still got a grenade, Fred?"

"Aye, here my last thermal though."

Brumsfeld nodded as she took it, "Starkos, it's Brumsfeld, tossing a thermal should get those boys to scatter."

The lieutenant gave the grenade a quick toss, carried by the wind it toppled and rolled inches from the nest and then within seconds.

KRA-PHHHHOOOOOOM

Ranulph didn't need to be near that explosion to hear it, or see it.

Before he could reply he got a read out from [member="Jackson Mills"]. "Thank Seiger, Sergeant. We're trying to reinforce the 102nd's flank, they're wide open. I need you to mark out artillery for our ships, give them the positions. We'll meet up with you on the hill, Pillbox 3234 I'll mark it on the holo for you." From there he disconnected his comms and looked over at Sergeant Lyons. They were going to have to improvise, while they could wait out for Starkos to get Brumsfeld there'd be no telling how long it would take. Mills had his orders now, Tarkin could only hope the man could work quickly. Until then, "do you have anything left Sergeant?"

"A few mortars, lad thats'll," Lyons replied as he gestured to the empty mortar nest.

"Piss it all," Tarkin cursed and before he could give the order, Grant and Dmitri were headed down and behind them Strovenko. He watched as the three worked quickly to reorient their fire and send down a rocket into the empty barrel. He along with Viramontes turned up against the barrier and began to fire upward, their own fiery wisps of red erupted from their blasters working to connect with Janaran Defense Forces. Boom, boom, boom they were going down. The string of blaster fire against his armor could be felt but the man was not going to give his position up. "We hold the line, for the ORDER!"

"For the Order!"

The rocket shot forth and hit with a deadly accuracy, with debris, blood, and chit flying upwards.

[member="Sasha Starkos"]

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fmm1btzQf9M​

[5/20]

Slowly and inexorably, by virtue of superior arms and sheer weight of shot, the First Order clawed away the advantage from their Janaran opponents. When the tide finally broke over the breakwaters, it was sudden and violent, an explosive surge of power directed at the core of the enemy fleet. The pride of the JDF was an old Antilles-class Star Defender, which despite its age was more than capable of going head-to-head against the First Order's Star Destroyers. For the past several hours it had acted as an anchor, the center of gravity for the whole defense network in space. Both a command center and artillery platform, the commander onboard was skilled and tenacious and had successfully resisted the past three assaults.

The theory of war called for the elimination, avoidance, of exploitation of the center of gravity of the enemy. After three failed attempts to deal with the problem in an indirect manner, Group Commander Mors had evidently decided that the best way to proceed was to eliminate the most clear obstacle.

The initial setup was made to look like another attempt at a breakthrough assault, ostensibly to conduct bombing runs on the planet and clear the path for the forces dirtside. If the JDF commander recognized the deception, he made no effort to account for the maneuver. More than likely he had recognized what was going on but had no choice in the matter, as the intercepted orders from the surface indicated that the civilian leadership expected the priority to be on keeping the siege going for as long as possible.

Evidently the government of Janara still held out hope that the Alliance was going to come riding to the rescue. After the disastrous offensive at Hoth, Central Command had deemed that 'improbable.'

Star Destroyers led the charge, with Vice Admiral Reis' Terror at the point of the wedge. Contact was made at 0624 local time. As before, the JDF stationed its main artillery ships off-axis, and placed a number of Assault Cruisers down the main vector. During the previous attempt, TG 78.3 had been forced to break off under withering barrage, shielding the smaller ships with its destroyers.

This time Admiral Kahelan appeared to be taking a page from the Marg Sabl book, but appropriately sized-up. A dozen frigates and Marauder cruisers broke away from the main force, and beelined towards the Antilles and its escorts. Chaos erupted around the Janaran flagship as it was suddenly drawn into a close-range brawl. Engaged at close range, both the First Order and JDF escorts paid a heavy price, and at least sixteen ships were soon floating hulks or reduced to wreckage.

The Janaran Assault Cruisers faced an even rougher fight, now squaring off against their heavier and better armored counterparts without any support. The Terror personally accounted for two kills in the ensuing broadside battle, its massed batteries pulverizing armor and hull in a ceaseless torrent of destruction.

Bloodied but as yet unbowed the JDF tried to counterattack and recover, launching wings of fighters from their Belsar carrier and other ships into the fray, in an attempt to relieve the Antilles and destroy the attacking frigates and cruisers. But that too had been accounted for, and the squadrons were met by their First Order counterparts, the latter being largely combat veterans flying state-of-the-art attack craft. Those Janaran strike craft that survived the dogfighting found a new threat in the Bastion Combat System onboard the Marauder cruisers. At 0708 the Fleet Air Defense Commander reported all threats eliminated or outbound.

At 0720 local the shields on the Antilles-class Star Defender failed.

At 0729 it began to launch escape pods. Fleet Directive 122A9.2 mandates collecting 1% of pods during 'active engagement' for immediate interrogation. All other pods are to be ignored (treated as class 2 space debris) until conclusion of 'active engagement.' First Order fleet directives are always followed.

At 0734 the Star Defender ceased firing. The FIV Implacable sent two transmissions demanding surrender. In response the Star Defender fired a single round from the Javelin main gun (the shot missed). The Implacable resumed its barrage at 0735.

At 0738 energy signal analysis reported energy surges from the Star Defender which matched the profile for cascading core containment failure for a solar ionization reactor.

At 0741 the Star Defender exploded, consumed by a fireball of its own energy. Signals analysis and energy readouts would match that of a catastrophic solar ionization core rupture.

By 0800 the coordinated defense of the JDF had begun to disintegrate. Individual ships fought for their survival, forming into small groups or fleeing for the edge of the system. The last bastion of organized resistance in space was centered around the Belsar carrier, which was being harassed and pushed away from the planet. The remainder of Task Group 78.2 took station over Janara to provide close orbit fire support for the ground forces.

At 0821 a prisoner confirmed during interrogation (statement was made not under duress) that the JDF Commander had been embarked on the Antilles, and neither she nor the ships Commanding Officer had left CIC to go to an escape pod.

 

[Hansen]

Shaehan Timiari
Janara Surface, Janaran Fortification Ruins
Objective #: 3
Post #: 1

The Z-6 Rotary cannons' barrels spin for a moment peppering a group of Janaran soldiers with the blaster cannon's potent and overwhelming power, Shaehan darts forward with two other Eldorai Troopers the sound of their limb hydraulics creak and hiss. Noticing one of the Janaran Human's struggling in the corner of Liquid Crystal display she halts and pivots towards the man while blaster bolts soar all around and explosions send pieces of charcoal black rock through the air. The Janaran man frantically squirms while clutching at the searing wound created by Shaehan's blaster cannon. Sitting her great weapon down, Shaehan's left-hand finds the Human's wrist while the other supports the man's weak attempts to avoid the jagged uncomfortable durasteel reinforced concrete that his body lays upon. Shaehan sympathetically listens to the gasps and splutters about family as the Janaran soldier grapples with the air desperately for life. "May your soul find solace in Ashira's warm embrace, delivered from Illyria's fury and scorn, pass now over the celestial veil to your final rest." Shaehan's hands feel the soldier grow heavy with his passing and for a moment a brief sadness lingers over her heart, examining his young face she carefully raises a gauntlet and gently folds his eyelids shut before muttering one final prayer for his lost spirit while Eldorai warriors continue to advance.

[member="Ranulph Tarkin"]

 

[The Major]

Objective 3
121st Division

Skytroopers were those kind of people who really took a positive shine upon their work. While some of the companies focused on heavy emplacements and expensive armour, certain units were assigned to force recon roles -given just a little bit of every tool to be an adaptable power, but not expected to use the heaviest armour or even many vehicles. The 39th company had jumped from their dropships as planned, and had even secured a number of strong points along the axis of advance. Theirs was a grueling kind of situation: to cause as much annoyance to any reinforcing enemy troops preparing a counter attack. They were often surrounded as a point of operation.

For the 7th platoon one of that seemed too troubling. Four of the JSF heavy tanks lay smouldering around the ruin that this particular town’s City Hall. Fires had long since consumed the bodies of the pilots. The structure was an excellent defensive point that had now been undermined by these enterprising First Order units -all it took was a little shock and awe. True, a number of civilians had perished, but that was thanks to the twitchy security guards in charge of defending the hall. From this vantage they had a commanding view of central area and the surrounding conurbation: they constantly sent camera feeds of the tactical situation both up above to the fleet in case they could sneak in an orbital strike, and to the other battalion commanders on the ground in case they wanted to earn their pay in artillery.

The only issue was a mass of JSF militia preparing to overtake the City Hall from three flanks. 39th Company snipers were at one point offering punishment to any exposed troops advancing from building cover to building cover, but now they were in process of constant suppressing fire.

The odds only looked like four against one.

Fair odds, no doubt. . . .

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 6.
Objective II.

The Auxiliary forces had charged alongside him. The Sith's lightsabre brandishing high above them as if some banner of hope as they descended down the hill's incline to the Janaran Defense Forces below. The initial fortifications surrounding the structure had already been pressed and broken, the Janarans were on the back foot, and if they weren't already, they would be soon as two forces crashed into each other.

One an organized horde, and the other a wavering defense force that was being spearheaded by the Supreme Commander's forces.

Even as they descended through the hill and resumed combat, more and more dropships of the Auxiliary were coming down to reinforce them, that was thanks to the assaults of other Janaran positions, keeping them off from the assault on the HQ. Without it, their entire defense would collapse.

​

"Leave none alive!"​

 

[The Major]

Post 2
Objective 3
Janara, nondescript City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
For the glory of the Supreme Leader

“Jango’s Bones, artillery!”

In came the whirling, frantic noise, and with much enthusiasm the top most spire of City Hall was pulverized. Debris rain along with the body of one unlucky skytrooper. Perhaps the armor kept him in one piece, but the overpressure and heat would have left little of use. Another round hits. Another. And another. Smaller mortars open up, plastering and shaking the men and women inside. Indistinctly, a scream is heard just above the din.

They would not be beaten by a barrage. Their leaders demanded the best.

Nonplussed, the eyes and ears of the platoon continue their vigilance. They were not without hope, for the heavy architecture of the building was naturally resistant to such abuse. From lower loopholes in the facade, a number of different types of surveillance equipment could peer through. A call for counter fire from orbit was requested. Hopefully command would respond quickly.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective 4- Wetwork
Post1

Dresden arrived on planet well in advance of the main forces.

He was not a man who liked to show up a day or even a week ahead of time. He had moved out a full month before the invasion had ever been announced.

For most of that month, he had done his usual thing: recon, planning, more planning, acquisition of key supplies, and plan some more. It was meticulous attention to detail that had kept him alive all these years, and he wasn't about to break his winning streak now.

The target in question was a mid-level government official. He wasn't anyone of any importance in the grand scheme of things, save for one peculiar detail: thanks to his background in the military and experience fighting counterinsurgencies, if things were to go south, it was his job to rally the people into a resistance movement.

Any sort of resistance movement was a threat to long-term stability, and something that any occupying force had to contend with. However, and effective and knowledgeable leader would make such a movement orders of magnitude more effective. They couldn't hope to win outright, but they could harass the First Order, make their continued occupation so expensive in terms of lives and materials, that public opinion forced them to withdraw.

In anticipation of that move, the FOSB had sent a senior Station Chief, one Dresden Verbrennung, to take the man out. It couldn't look like an assassination, of course. A dead martyr was almost as useful as a live leader in the grand scheme of things.

Fortunately, the man had a vice: every Friday, like clockwork, he and his old Army buddies met in a bar to drink and reminisce. Sometimes they played cards, sometimes they just got hammered in preparation for a night out at the strip club, but they never, ever skipped. It was a terrible habit, being all predictable, but some men just liked to have an element of stability in an unstable world.

And so, Dresden found himself in the bar, nursing his third drink. On the whole, he disliked alcohol. Not because it made him ill, or because he couldn't hold his liquor. The former merc could drink the average Devaronian under the table, and not have to worry about much in the way of a hangover the next morning. No, he disliked drinking because he disliked the fact that it always, without fail, ended up with him getting irrationally angry and blowing up a building.

Tonight, however, that was considered a plus.

The target and his friends arrived, and began their usual round of drinks. Dresden steeled himself for the long night to come.

 

[Ria Misrani]

OBJECTIVE III - POST 13
103RD AKA THE BLOODY BANTHAS
[member="Jackson Mills"] | [member="Sasha Starkos"]

​

PHOOOOOOM!

KRA-PHUUUUUUOOOM!

PHOOOOM!

Ranulph turned and watched with a smile as the AT-ATs sauntered onto the beach. "THAT'S IT LADS! LOOK AT'EM GO! READY ON THE CHARGE!" He shouted as he focused his fire on the fleeing Janaran Defence Forces. The First Order's vehicles, manned by the Army made their presence known with fierce determination. Pillboxes were blown, the cover was set to burn and those who hid in their machine gun nests were laid to rest. Whatever resistance the JDF had mustered would be undone as the fleet moved into position and dropped more troops and more wisps of crimson burst from the muzzle of the barrel of the walking tank. And there goes another one, a ferocious BOOM and the bodies went flying. Lieutenant Tarkin turned to his comms, "Starkos, get with Brumsfeld head up north. Mills, you're free to engage and remind me to pay for the Army's drinks after this."

KRA-BOOOOOOOOM!

White plastoid armor, together with beige and the regular uniforms of the Army as they banded together and charged up the hill, out running the legs of the large tanks that cast their shadows on the beaches. Ranulph had been so preoccupied with the 102nd he hadn't seen the Auxiliary forces where [member="Shaehan Timiari"] had been fighting. It mattered not to him what they were, just that they weren't shooting at him. The man pulled Dmitri from the mortar hole as they rushed up the hill. Grant's large form behind them as he turned to make sure that Viramontes was there just as well. Shoretroopers with their E22s moved to greet the Janaran men with the business end of their bayonets.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 7.
Objective II.

Lightsabre raised to bat away a blaster bolt that traveled for his helmet visor. Somewhere off into his peripherals it went, striking someone before A'sharad's large form body slammed through a group of Janaran soldiers, the Force enhancing his speed to allow him to shatter their bones solely by making contact with them, crimson blade leaping from his hand as he saberthrew it.

"Supreme Commander, we've breached the HeadQuarters!"

Up ahead, there was a hole in the towering structure, smoke billowing out of one of the floors, or rather, blowing out of multiple levels.

Raising his left arm, he waved it to a squad of the Auxiliary forces that were behind him, "With me!"

Spinning back around, the Force exploded from his organic palm, the force blast throwing nameless soldiers out of his path and he charged through the gap he made.

Long bounds brought him through the gap quickly, even under fire as his soldiers attempted to follow him through the gap, they were gunned down for the most part, but more continued to fill their places. That was the beauty of the Auxiliary - There was always more to take up the job of others, whether they wanted to or not, the longer they took to win here, the more would die, and no one wanted to die.

Not really.

 

[The Major]

Post 3
Objective 3
Janara, now damaged City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
In the name of the Supreme Leader, we give all.

::Be advised, Lieutenant. Current assets are already engaged. Orbital support is unavailable. Out::

". . ." An outburst would do the troopers in the hall little good. Moreover, it was completely unnecessary. This platoon's training had been highly robust, with both simulations and life fire exercises. Add unto that the unit's general veterancy, and all of this violence was little more than a matter of habit. Terrifying habit, to be sure, but consistent with their expectations. With practiced stoicism, the El-Tee relays his orders to dig in. The barrage was intensifying, but the fact that even more JSF were amassing nearby had to mean that they intended to retake this location.

Working under falling ash and cut power, the skytroopers prepare fields of fire in the anticipated angles of attack. An artillery shell deflects into a main hallway from an open window, exploding with a jet of anger that takes out two of the troopers manning a surveillance station. With that, 15 members of the platoon now remained to bear the brunt of owning this real estate.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective 4
Post 2

As the targets filed into the bar, Dresden tossed back the rest of his drink, and tapped two fingers on the bar. The bartender, a cute little Twi'lek who had clearly seen enough in the course of her career to know trouble, quickly slid a fresh glass over, not making eye contact. Her nervousness over the presence of the agent, however, was nothing compared to the fear in her eyes when the latest party walked in. She smiled and greeted them warmly, but the expression stopped at her lips.

Eyes wide, lekku twitching like hyperactive snakes, she definitely knew these guys, but she didn't like them. Not one bit.

There were six of them. Most fit the mold for "soldier gone to seed." Barrel chests, expanding guts, greying and thinning hair, they were clearly past their prime, but made up for it with sheer bluster. The target was the expression. He was tall, powerfully built, but without a hint of the executive spread that plagued his fellows. His blue eyes were sharp and alert. He close cropped blonde hair showed no signs of artificial coloring, and his handsome features were only marred by a nose that was broken some time in the past.

He looked every inch the officer he once was. Even his suit was more military than civilian. Though it lacked any sort of metals, the crimson piping along the seams belonged on a mess dress uniform, and the gold embroidery on the shoulders hinted at epaulets.

A cruel smile hooked the corners of his lips upwards, baring his incisors. He was used to being a wolf among sheep.

Dresden suspected that he would rather enjoy taking this particular target down.

 

[Kayla Wylen]

Objective: BYOO -> 3
Post: 5
Allies: [member="Ranulph Tarkin"] | [member="Sasha Starkos"] | [member="Jackson Mills"]

The small squad of Ren moved on from the wreckage of what once was the comms building on their way to their next objective when the group received a message through their own comms. The Knight of Ren that had been appointed the leader for the operation ordered them to stop as they listened.

This is the 102nd. We and the 103rd on Omaha Beach have taken heavy casualties and many more are wounded. Requesting any medical support.​

​

"Looks like you are going to leave us here, Wylen." Kayla immediately nodded, understanding what her new objective was. "I will be on my way immediately," she answered as the sky'tri double checked her backpack with supplies was secure, spread her wings, and looked up. Clear skies, she thought to herself as she gave the group of Ren a final salute before kicking her feet off the ground and taking flight. Once more was she able to see the war that played out on the ground from a distance, the sight still as ugly as before. It was a grim necessity to ensure peace in the galaxy, but the woman realized there was no other way. As the Disciple of Ren made her way to her objective she opened her comm to announce she was on her way to provide assistance.

This is Wylen. I am a medic and on my way to the 102nd and 103rd to provide medical assistance, ETA 5 minutes.​

​

Through her helmet's visor she saw Omaha Beach in the distance, causing her to slowly start descending. The sight there was much more gruel than the other things she had seen already despite it still being a good distance away, causing her to make even more haste. "Do not leave us yet, brave warriors," Kayla said with nobody around to hear it, "for I am here to bring salvation."

 

[The Major]

Post 4
Objective 3
Janara, nondescript City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
Our blood is our honor

Ten minutes of exploding Hell. Ten minutes that felt like ten years. Dread at each strike shrinks away to cold, hard apathy. Suddenly, a quiet befalls the immediate area. Like welcomed friends at the threshold comes the relief of fighters zipping about above. Their engines roar and sputter, in intimate duty dance with plasma lashing into and out of one another. Time was not on the platoon’s side, thus they could not sit idly to watch the dogfights; rest? A pipe dream.

Smoke grenades explode upon the street of the left flank, slowly filling the sight line with obfuscation. It was from this angle that another building was closest to City Hall. It would make the most sense for the JSF to punch through here. It was probably known that the First Order storm troopers were equipped with the latest in technology. A few skytroopers assigned to the left call out the disturbance and switch to thermal imaging.

Another pregnant wait engulfed the surrounding square.