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

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective 4
Post 3

So far, Dresden had the distinct displeasure of sharing the same room with the target for a whole 39 minutes.

In that span of time, he had gone from reasonably tipsy and relatively calm to blisteringly drunk and infuriated.

Never had he encountered such an unpleasant and uncouth group of individuals, at least not voluntarily. They were loud, obnoxious, and vile. It was easy to see why the bartender was afraid of them. There had already been several instances of inappropriate contact, not quite groping, but close. She had been propositioned for all manner of improbable acts, and her refusal to comply only seemed to egg the men on.

If Dresden hadn't been assigned to kill the guy, he'd have probably done it anyway. Some folks just needed a good plasma lobotomy.

The good news was, he had been assigned to kill him, and it was approaching time to do the deed. At first, the former mercenary was worried he'd have to manufacture a reason to pick a fight. But, well, that clearly wouldn't be necessary today. If things kept up, all he'd have to do was sit here for another few minutes.

 

[The Major]

Post 5
Objective 3
Janara, nondescript City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
You broke it, you buy it

Figures are detected rushing into the smoke on the left. In unison a number of improved Molotov cocktails are thrown down from the ramparts. What follows most likely would be the kind of thing banned from intergalactic war treaties, but war was a highly complex thing. As the first of the attacking JSF troops writhe and screech for bloody help in intelligible tongues, the squads immediately behind them panic at the sight. Rather than advance the noncoms within order for returning fire. Blasters pound on the hall’s left side as the counterattack opens in earnest. There was little good cover on the street where now smoldering corpses lay. The First Order took full advantage of their elevated enfilading fire. Punishment was doled out as security troops on the left flank began to waiver at their exposure.

Reacting smartly, the building directly across the street begins to open up fire through the windows and cracks. It was sloppy not to wait for this suppressive fire, but the JSF was running thin on time.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 8.
Objective II.

Still taking long bounds, the Force built up in strength in his body, preparing to enhance the leap that he finally took to enter the hole in the wall of the high up structure.

There was smoke everywhere, and it made it difficult to actually make out anything through his helmet's visor settings. He twisted to the side, too late as something carved across his midsection but didn't penetrate, a furrow was left in the armour he imagined, but soon after he noticed he was stuck and whenever he attempted to move, his cloak tugged.

"I see," he said to himself.

His lightsabre re-ignited, and it parted cloak from body with little to no resistance as he stepped forwards, leaping once again to pass the thing that had caused the hole in the wall.

A TIE Fighter?

Deactivating his lightsabre, he continued down the hallway

Intelligence suggests Command Centre is this way.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Objective 4
Post 4

"The hell are you looking at?"

It was an hour and a half into the target's visit to the bar, and it had been one of the more miserable experiences of Dresden's life, and that was saying something. So far, he'd avoided the attention of the bastards, but that wasn't to say their unpleasantness hadn't spilled over onto him.

The bartender was fairly distraught by this point. Simply by virtue of not being a raging jackass, she'd picked Dresden out as a friend, or at least someone who was less trouble than the rest of them. Any port in a storm, after all. And so, when the target and his friends made lewd remarks, or tried to "accidentally" spill their drinks down her shirt for the millionth time, she found an excuse to make her way down to his end of the bar. She didn't say anything about it, but the pleading, desperate look in her eye spoke volumes.

The other patrons had long since abandoned the bar. The bouncer was clearly paid to turn a blind eye; he spent most of the night in his booth by the door, music cranked up in his headphones.

It was increasingly looking like Dresden was the only chance she had of making out of this place without being assaulted. There was no way things could be this bad on a regular basis. Maybe the rumors of an impending invasion had gotten them riled up. Whatever the reason, there was only one way things could play out now. Hell, Dresden didn't even have to try to make it look like an accident.

"I asked you a question, punk."

The voice came from behind him. One of the target's big ugly friends had noticed that the bartender was hovering on the former mercenary's end of the bar. She wasn't even trying to be subtle at this point. She shot him a pleading look. He met her eyes, then nodded slowly. That was when the drunkard had made his way over.

"Well," Dresden drawled as he spun around on his seat, "if I had to take a guess, I'd say some sort of shaved Wookiee, but I've never known a Wookiee to give incest a try."

"The kark is that supposed to mean," the man growled.

"Lemme spell this out: if your parents got divorced, would they still be brother and sister?"

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 14
103rd AKA the Bloody Banthas

​

​

WHOOOOO-PHUUUUM

Stormtroopers rushed up the hill of the beachside, they had broken through the Janaran lines sending them backwards. Word down the line was that the Janaran HQ had been captured but there would be no rest for the wicked on this day. "Strovenko get on the horn, let command know that we've secured the beaches and are moving inward to clear out any remaining resistance." The corporal nodded and moved to begin the communications, Janara had fallen to the might of the First Order. The rest of the way would now be nothing more than a cleanup operation, but Ranulph's opinion this was a mess. A bloody mess, but he supposed there was no other way around it. Overall the 103rd had taken several casualties and as he slugged up into what was left of the designated meetup point. Pillbox 3234, he looked onward - the 121st was ahead of them, and the Auxiliary forces seemed to have done their job.

"C'mon lads, up and over let's go." He heard Staff Sergeant Lyons with the 102nd, walking in his beige coloured armor the markings of the Shoretrooper.

"Hang on there Sergeant," Ranulph said to him as he approached, and set about fixing Lyon's pauldron. "There, you go, you move ahead."

Ranulph decided as he still stood in the pillbox that this would make the great start of a new base. "Sergeant Viramontes, come with me let's walk the lines and get rid of any stragglers that remain." The Janarans were smart but the FIrst Order might be smarter still if they could renovate the defensive line into a proper base. The hillside had been key in keeping many of the troopers down and if it weren't for the All-Terrain vehicles that came down to rain hell upon the JDF. Seiger only knew how long it would have taken them to break through.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

[6/20]

Orbital bombardment for naval forces stationed above a planet functions according to a system broadly similar to the classic fire control method used across the galaxy. Any well-documented planet has been surveyed and mapped a thousand times over ten thousand years, and that information is used to create a grid system that all forces use to coordinate. Once a ship has taken up a low-orbit position, it reports itself to the Planetary Assault Fire Control Center (PAFCC), typically embarked on one the large landing ships, which processes incoming fires requests and assigns available assets. Troops on the ground utilize forward observers to allow orbital batteries to better home in, but in the absence of ground support the fact is most warships have more than capable imaging systems to make accurate spots themselves.

The end result of all this is that First Order Stormtroopers tend to feel very secure in calling in danger close barrages, even from small warships not typically assigned an orbital fire support role. The Navy does its best to keep this confidence, the two forces are complimentary, after all, even as they constantly harangue and disparage the other in the manner of friendly rivals.

So when [member="The Major"]’s initial request for fire support was turned down because the Terror was too busy, it was quickly picked up by the Marauder Cruiser Furious, previously running escort duties. It was only a matter of minutes for the ship to enter optimal bombardment range and begin to analyze the situation.

“Furious this is Paf-Sea, counter-battery fire mission target number sierra-xray-two-one-three-zero. Grid 318 241, direction 288, artillery emplacement, danger close, nine salvos, ship-adjust, fire for effect.”

The Furious turned to and made ready to rain hell down the enemy, pausing only a few moments after an urgent ‘check fire’ from a forward observer to wait for a friendly fighter squadron to clear the area. Only a minute and a half after the initial call for fire, the barrage began. The furious was, relative to the surface of the planet, upside down, to allow for more of its main guns to be on target, and each fired a rapid volley of three shots, then corrected, and fired the remaining six.

On the surface of Janara, the 39th Platoon would see a sudden wall of energy turn the Janaran artillery battery into so much debris. The shockwaves of the impacts shattered windows and forced ground forces, enemy and allies, to take cover. But the momentary disruption on the allied advance would mean they would no longer have to worry about shells overhead.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post I
Objective Secure the Perimeter

The FIV Malice and her escort vessels leaped out of lightspeed, and assumed dominance at the perimeter of the system. The small fleet sat behind Grand Admiral Tregessar's task force and the other vessels which had decidedly engaged the Janaran navy. In line with orders from Central Command, Rausgeber held the rear. While Tregessar and others went for the kill. Destroying the enemies of the First Order's politics, Carlyle Rausgeber would patrol the rear.

There was a real and present danger of Galactic Alliance intervention. Janara had been about to join their sphere of influence. It would only be natural that the presumptive and often militiaristic junta which ruled the Alliance would perhaps attempt to intervene. In spite of the large First Order presence of course. Still, if the immediate sitrep that Carlyle had recieved was anywhere near true, Rausgeber could proudly say that if the Alliance did attempt to intervene on the planet, it would driven back. The First Order had essentially won the planet. Now was the time to incorporate it as apart of the burgeoning Empire.

 

[The Major]

Post 6
Objective 3
Janara, strike supported City Hall
121st Division, 39th Company, 7th Intelligence and Reconnaissance Platoon
No ninety-day wonders in this Order

One might think the mighty power of the earlier artillery strike was a powerful display of modern military application. It was not equal to one tenth of the power on display as the Furious brought the full power of its ground striking guns to bear on the surrounding JSF hardpoints supporting their push. Entire buildings near the square were reduced to ash as the sheer amount of collateral damage took to ridiculous proportions. 7th platoon had to brace and take cover again. Even from hundreds of meters away, each blast shook the teeth.

The exposed attacking elements on the left flank used this chance to retreat. Retreat was putting it lightly. As blasts reduced fireteams to slag, the survivors full on routed in a panic.

However, as the orbital support paused to allow the guns to spin up again, the security forces now began a two pronged attack from both the forward and right flank. They had a number of light anti-tank vehicles and an infantry fighting vehicle. These set up interlocking fields of suppression in the general direction of the hall. Meanwhile, their screen was acted upon by two bold platoons engaging in maneuverer warfare spread across the two areas. Regardless of the danger, the skytroopers strictly follow the old adage: incoming fire has right of way. Well aimed snap shots and quick bursts snap out from the uppermost floor of City Hall. One attacker throws his blaster in the air mid sprint. Another jerks and stumbles as an imperial bolt catches him in the chest. Yet another screams out: unlucky to be hit low.

The sound of agony fills the air.​

[member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 15
103rd AKA the Bloody Banthas
[member="Jackson Mills"] | [member="Sasha Starkos"]

​

​

​

"Day dream of a defensive base all you want, but we've got orders," Viramontes quipped to the Lieutenant, "with the beach secure the 102nd will be aided by the Warthrantas Armoured Division. We've got to move up and eventually get eyes on the 121st."

Ranulph nodded and got in line with the sergeant.

Lines of stormtroopers moved up from the hill, and into the forest and the towns nearby. Organized with a deadly efficiency the 103rd, fell in line with their parent company and continued the sweep. Overhead, Ranulph swore he could hear the sounds of TIE fighters screaming across the skies. And as he looked up, he wasn't wrong, air support had arrived and he looked forward and moved up to help with the march. Bursts of Crimson erupted from his blaster as he became part of the war machine. He was not Ranulph Tarkin in this moment, instead, he was a set of numbers his concern lay only for his men. And when he was not firing from his blaster he was shoving his bayonet into some poor Janaran sod's neck, chest, or whatever exposed part it could land.

The once calm land of Janara was now wrecked with craters made from artillery and orbital bombardments. Bodies lay on the ground and the blood soaked into the dirt beneath them, staining the very earth.

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

Objective: Tour the Academy of Janara
Post: 1

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpiuqMkuWL4​

Despite Operation Fallen Sword in full swing, there was a small memorial being held for fallen soldiers and military personnel on the grounds of its esteemed military Academy of Janara. Commender Morro, training under Captain Banning and part of Admiral Rausgeber’s fleet, had not yet being deployed, waiting for her medical tests to return showing a clean bill of health.

As the Chiss officer stood watching, resplendent and proud in the black uniform of the First Order, she listened to Captain Sharda Creel give a eulogy on a particularly heralded soldier who perished too young and too soon. The emotion became a bit overwhelming for Morro who suppressed even a sneeze at times - that’s how little she liked to display vulnerabilities and imperfections. She tried to focus her red, glowing orbs upon an expressionistic marble stone statue, carved specifically for the dedication, to remain a symbol of the lives lost.

But she had to turn away.

Feeling guilty for breaking off from the sombre memorial, the commander began to wander the Academy perimeter, knowing there was a much smaller memorial for the Chiss who had served among the various military ranks as navy tacticians. The next lMitth'raw'nuruodo was still a highly sought commodity by empires around the galaxy. Her boots crunching on gravel - of course alien memorials were hidden on the less paved pathways - there was something in her vision ahead that may have been what she was looking for.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective III - Post 16
102nd AKA the Tridents

​

​

Brumsfeld was grateful when word came down of a medic, although she did not expect to find it in the form of [member="Kayla Wylen"]. Still, wasn't about to look a gift in the mouth as it were, "by the maker, so glad you're here. We've got wounded set up here at a station, and we're still looking for the ones who didn't make it following the initial onslaught as we hit the beach." She adjusted her armor and kicked off some of the blood stained sand from her boots. Just as the infamous AT-AT's walked over the head, their footsteps giving a resounding thud. The beach was rather quiet now and Brumsfeld wasn't sure how she felt about it, but looking upward toward the Pillboxes. She caught sight of Staff Sergeant Lyons grateful that they had pulled through. Grateful that any of them had survived the landing itself, as boats were now being fetched from the water, and tipped over as red stained water was dumped from them. Armor floated onto the surface, and she moved to begin the clean up herself.

War was hell, and anyone who fought in it was either stupid, crazy or immensely loyal. Sometimes all of the above, the Lieutenant headed over to what remained of the 108th's landing party. Brothers in arms clutched together, bodies shredded by Janaran artillery. Her breathing could be heard through the helmet and in the moment her eyes welled up. What in the bloody hell did they just survive, Seiger's grace alone she supposed, either that or the maker had other plans for her. She regained her bearings and motioned for another trooper to bring the stretcher, just as she knelt down and placed her hands beneath the armored body of one of the fallen. "Easy, easy, on three, one, two, three - lift."

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

[7/20]

Whoever the new commander of what remained of the JDF was, they had evidently decided that trying to prevent the First Order from interdiction the planet in its entirety was a lost cause. The Belsar and a few limping escorts, all that remained of the 1st and 2nd Flotilla's, were making towards the edge of the system at max acceleration. Of the 30 ships that had made up the core of the fleet, only 9 remained combat worthy. The 3rd Flotilla had fared better, but only barely. The hours of mid-range brawling with the superior First Order ships had destroyed or crippled 8 ships out of 14. The Nonnah and one Stalwart of that group led the four escorts on a vector that would soon intercept with the path of the Belsar. It also happened to be near where the Reserve Flotilla had arrived two hours earlier.

Back on Dosuun, Cyrus had assumed that without guidance from above, this last batch of fresh ships was going to make a mad dash in to the planet in some sort of misguided cavalry charge, doomed to failure. Instead they had moved forward just enough to act as a landing pad for JDF strike craft that had lost their mother, refueling and resupplying over a hundred fighters and bombers, and providing support to a few damaged ships that had escaped the earlier fighting. Now it looked like whoever was in command on the Belsar planned to link up all his remaining ships and...

What then? That was the question for Cyrus, and more urgently, for Group Commander Mors.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post II
Objective: Circle the rim.

Carlyle's vessel slowly began to circle around the planet, securing a tight, yet loose perimeter. To someone entering the system, it would be constrictive, thick with fighters, troop transports and other assorted military craft. But for the experiienced military men within the perimeter. For the captans and commodores now leading the efforts to subjugate Janara, Rausgeber had left more than enough room for them to appropriately operate. There was a thin line there, and Carlyle executed it perfectly. The admiral had tuned into the comms frequencies and listened to the updates.

From what he gathered, it had been a bloody affair for the First Order's navy. He was personally a little surprised by that. Carlyle did not imagine the JDF had put too much stock into their navy. He though the sight of the resurgents along with the obligatory escorts would have caused some to immediately surrender in terror. Perhaps it was high time for Sieger Ren's armies to turn their attention to another system. Another Eridau should be in order. Something that would put the fear of God into these heathens.

 

[Wilhelmine Dahma]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAwYodrBr2Q​

Objective: Tour the Academy of Janara
Post: 2

Whether they were led to this planet like Commander Morro, upon an intrepid vessel of the Chiss Expeditionary Fleet or had wandered into this part of the galaxy on their own, seeking trade, fame, fortune, or even chasing an unattainable dream which would drag them to ruin, the memorial ahead was small but a poignant reminder of the officer's upbringing.

Did she have reservations about serving for the mostly-human naval arm of the First Order? Almost every day it crossed her mind, but Morro was resolute in her decision. And with time, she knew that would fade. As cantankerous as Admiral Rausgeber seemed to be there was something magnetic and inspiring about the man, though she could not put her finger on it.

Bending at the knees, the Chiss officer brushed some dirt and a few stems of blueblossom flowers - appropriate - off of a plaque embedded into the earth.

"Your enemy is the be the architect of their own destruction." read one of the quotes upon the stone, and Morro recognized it as wisdom from Grand Admiral Thrawn, a bit heavy handed for a tribute, but Chiss were not known for their over-emotive platitudes.

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8DekFFCE5c​

Rather than take a wait and see approach, Group Commander Mors elected to go on the offensive. The striking force would be made up of most of TG 78.1's remaining ships, and a few augments from TG 78.4. The Implacable itself made up the center of the formation, with the heavier ships up in front to shield it and the escorts holding the rear, and spilling out on the sides. The laws of physics being as they are, any formation of ships with a roughly equivalent acceleration/deceleration (summarized as deltaV) rate to another group of ships could always keep at the distance they started. The Belsar was the slowest ship in the Janaran formation, but the First Order destroyers were about as inept at rapid maneuvers. Therefore at first it seemed like the Janarans would make a clean rendezvous.

But the size of the 'Unforgiven' ships belied a capability for incredible sudden bursts of speed. The ship was, after all, a true battlecruiser, and there was a reason for relatively thin layers of armor and generally unimpressive shielding. With only the escorts able to keep pace, the Implacable suddenly surged forward, it's shields flickering off and nearly all secondary armament shutting down as the capacitors and backup generators of the Advanced Maneuverability system struggled to keep up output.

In the Joint Operations Command and Coordination Resource Center on Dosuun a hush came across the room as the onlookers watched with something close to glee as the image of the battlecruiser closed the gap between the forces. It was abudently clear that Admiral Kahelan was intending to use the awesome long-range firepower of her flagship to end the battle before it truly began.

Some enterprising operator threw up a display indicating where the Implacable's effective range extended to, and a few moments later the sphere, keeping pace with the image of the ship, passed over the diamonds that indicated hostile vessels on the large central display. The Implacable continued to close for a couple more minutes, then powered down the AMPS and began to slow. No sooner had it rerouted power back to primary batteries, then the long range guns opened up.

Death reached out across the gulf of space and began to count heads.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 9.
Objective II.


His lightsabre flashed to the side of him as blaster bolts skittered across the back of his armour.

He growled but he ignored them as his crimson beam tore through Janaran troopers in the hallways, the Force both used as a weapon for offense, and a tool for defense as bodies were disemboweled and launched into walls.

Soon, the lightsabre was joined by his hydrastaff, venom launching from their heads as a lightsabre impaled distracted soldiers.

When a cylindrical objective bounced off a wall from around a corner after he gained a moment of respite, he crouched and wrapped himself into a bubble of protection, tinged crimson as he was buffeted by the explosion, shrapnel pinging off his helmet and leaving scratches, some deeper than others, though otherwise inconsequential as it was the protection bubble that had saved him from the true dangers.

Soon there..

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post III
Objective Secure Perimeter

Perhaps the first sign of any First Imperial occupation, at least a permanent one, would be the arrival of troop transports. Smaller than the full star destroyers used by the First Order, the large cargo transports carried whole legions worth of stormtroopers within their holds. Although to some on Janara, at least Carlyle speculated, would see the arrival of transports as downright illegal given recent events, for Carlyle he hoped to see it as a sign of hope. The First Order had found them worthy of occupation, rather than immediate glassing and extermination.

For that, they should be happy. And as soon as the money, the infastructure and the jobs began to roll into the planet, they would be happy. In fact, Carlyle knew that those who now opposed them would probably be the ones to benefit from the influx of foreign investment. It was a hypocrisy he did note had occured on the recently captured Mustafar sector. However, he would keep these thoughts to himself. It would do no use for the First Order if it began to demonise those who were to become its citizens.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 10.
Objective II.

"Here he comes!"

"We're the last thing between this door and Command!"

"Everything we've got, men!"

There was a cheer.

A'sharad could hear them from down the hallway and around the corner. He reached down to pick up his hydrastaff that had taken to crawling across the floor after it silenced the guttural screams of a JDF soldier. Glancing behind him, there were bodies littering the floor in the corridor, all corpses that would be made to disappear by the end of the day. when the Firs Order seized the planet and forced their people to bend the knee.

He stepped around the corner, and a hail of bullets were already screeching down the corridor to hit the corner he was peeking around.

The Sith Lord took a step back, but the corner he had previously been at was torn to pieces by the amount of fire that came down the corridor, utterly slagging the metal in moments.

They have a cannon down there.

Looking back down the corridor that he had came from, from behind his helmet, a slow smirk began to emerge as he scanned the bodies.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post IV
Objective: Secure the Perimeter

The Malice slowly rotated around the planet, like a sleek shark, circling its prey. Carlyle found a feeling of joy coming over him. Perhaps joy was a bit strong, but he nonetheless felt a feeling of contentedness come over him as he steadily circled the system. TIE Fighters ran search patterns, seeing if there were any opposing stealth craft which could interrupt the First Order's orbit. Stealth craft were the bane of Carlyle's existence. He saw them as a cowards gambit. An overpriced piece of bantha chit which couldn't have the weapon systems or protection offered by a star destroyer.

The officer scowled at the thought. It would be totally reckless to declare that stealth vessels were not at all dangerous, what the First Order had found through their research. That and the experiences they had fighting the Galactic Alliance, as well as historical research. Stealth vessels were, at least in capable hands, deadly. But given the calibre of tactician in this day and age, the First Order felt they had little to fear. There were no Anakin Skywalkers, or Thrawn's among them. Only incompetents like Cathul Thuku and Alexandra Morrow.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post 11.
Objective II.

The bodies of the JDF Soldiers were stripped of their weapons, specifically their blasters, the Force being used to gather them at the end of the hallway with the Sith Lord. It took him near a minute to gather at least a dozen blasters, perhaps a handful more than that, and it took much of his concentration towards the end of this battle. He reached into the Force, searched for it, he felt for those that waited for him.

Felt for their fear.

Felt their anger.

Felt their false bravado.

Got them.

The Force surged through him as telekinetically controlled blasters found themselves filling a hallway corridor.

And all of their triggers were pulled simultaneously as they slowly advanced through the corridor towards the defensive position in front of the command centre. Stepping out from the slagged corner, the soldier behind the cannon, an E-WEB he realized had been gunned down, and he sacrificed his control over half his armament of telekientically weapons to wrench it from its stand, however, when he did that, the rest of his connection was lost.

It was enough.

A moment later he was in the survivor's midst, the Force speed granting the Sith Lord the necessary ability to stand amongst their midst.

There were screams, but A'sharad cared not.

They all met the same fate.