Casus Belli (Tygaran Alliance/Galactic Alliance vs First Order Rebellion of Kaeshana)

[Trextan Voidstalker]

[member="Elpsis Elaris"] [member="Tempest"]

He could sense his father nearby. In fact of he concentrated he could feel the man's presence stretching out through the Force to try and find him. Trextan knew he shouldn't have gone running off after the dark Jedi. He couldn't allow himself to be baited like that, not again.

A tremor reached him through the Force. His violet blade snapped into life at the same moment he saw the red flash. Several droplets of rain hissed as they struck the blade, vaporised in an instant.

His arms were tired, they felt heavy. He was no Jedi master; he couldn't call on the Force to give him endurance to last a day. His blade work to block to strikes, but he kept the movements tight, efficient. Trex needed cover, but he couldn't see any. There were at least four shooters and they were at least two hundred metres away. If he set out forwards just one mistake would be the end of him. If they were capable, they would spread out so that the close he got, the larger the angle he would have to defend with his saber.

But it wasn't just the white of stormtrooper armourbhe could see. A golden streak appeared and he could only watch as Jacen moved through the squad with brutal efficiency.

Trextan flicked off his blade and trudged forwards through the soft mud. Every step sapped at his reserves.

 

[Joza Perl]

Location: Citadel of Dawn
Objective: Get a new Sith boyfriend

The release of the thud bugs did indeed give Joza pause, forcing her to act before she could take a swing at [member="Asharad Graush"]. Her saber shifted into a low diagonal arc, the angle of her blade shifting slightly as it adjusted to catch both of the Vong bugs in one swoop. It sizzled through their exoskeletons and turned the strange insects into a non-issue. Her blade would form back up and hone in on its target, just in time to be knocked to the side by a light shield of the Sith’s own. The phrik of her fist sizzled against his light shield for a brief moment before it was removed, leaving telltale scorch marks and slightly dented metallic fingers.

Her opponent shifted, his body lifting off of the ground as he used the Force to pull himself into a backflip. She’d taken note of his fondness for enhancing his speed with the Force, as well as his penchant for using his elbows and knees offensively—stay away from those joints!—and did not stay idle. Joza spun tightly to his left, away from the aggressive leg and into Ashard as he was airborne. His back was to her mid-flip, and as she came around in her spin, the edge of her shield would aim to cut along his left wrist once more. The saber in her right hand would follow the motion of her turn, dragging along his back in a deft slice. All in all, it was a quick motion, a rapid spin that intended to capitalize on her opponent’s unguarded back while he tried to put some distance between them.



Loadout:

Spoiler

-Standard lightsaber (x2)
-Sasori Medium Armor
-Ranger Shotgun
-AI Wrist Blaster
-VT Needle Disruptor
-Tactical Fighting Blade
-Glop Grenade (x2)
-Stun Pearl (x5)

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: Northern Trench network - Citadel of Dawn
Allies: The First Order - [member="BE-183"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance - [member="Dish"]
Potential interlopers? - [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Trextan Voidstalker"]

A twisted smile formed on the young girl's lips as she watched her foe struggle. First he'd been disarmed and now his armour began to creak and groan, tiny cracks appeared on the joints.

'I'm winning,' she thought to herself. 'I'm getting to him. Just a little bit more... Break him. Break him. Break. Him.' Her thoughts descended into chanting.

Then Dish made his move, drawing a sidearm at her. The delay caused by her crush allowed Sam the time needed to see the attack coming and she made a sharp dive to the left, blocking a couple of bolts with her saber as she did so. Samka's attack halted with her concentration broken, to crush metal as dense as Dish's armour required not being under fire so she weaved about looking for opportunity. Sam considered closing the gap again and attempting to slice his gun, now disarmed of his melee weapon the threat was minimal however neither could she strike him from there and even without a blade, Sam expected her opponent's fists could pack a nasty blow. Pull the weapon from the enemy? With an iron grip, he had to potential to keep hold of the gun and strike her. Her mind raced through a half dozen scenarios as she manoeuvred her way in and out of enemy fire, twirling her blade around to deflect any particularly dangerous bolts.

Finally an idea struck, with the Stormtrooper ducking away to a reasonably safe distance, there was no longer any danger of them becoming collateral damage. The advantage of Sam's one-handed Makashi technique was that her left hand was free to use another Force power while her blade did its work. Aiming at Dish's gun, Sam fired a wave of Force Lightning at the weapon with the hope of overheating or disarming him. The idea blossomed further as Samka realised that Force Dead or not, the electrical current still stood a good chance of harming her foe as it wasn't the Force directly but a flurry of electricity. Realising this, Sam's attack intensified. She was still hesitant to stop and unleash her full power but unlike a crush, she could keep throwing bolts of crackling lightning on the go.

And so she began to hop, flip and dance around the sides of the trench, bursts of lightning coming from her free hand as she did so. The teenager's sinister, girlish chuckle filed the air. She was getting drunk on the pain she could inflict.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

(wrong account)

 

[Elpsis Kerrigan]

[member="Nima Tann"], [member="Tempest"], [member="Trextan Voidstalker"], [member="HK-36"]


Amidst the sounds of battle, the roar of a Mark One Bolter was heard. An APE round exited the rifle's muzzle, sailing past Trextan and cutting down a stormtrooper a good deal behind him. "Friendly!" the voice was modulated by a helmet's electronic speaker, but clearly young and feminine. A figure clad in beskar'gam that by now was the exact opposite of pristine, Elpsis Elaris, emerged from cover, lowering the smoking gun. Presumably Nima and/or Tempest were close.


Most of the Citadel's ruins had seemingly fallen under allied control, but hostile forces were still trying to penetrate their defences before they could solidify their position. Allied soldiers were busy setting up turrets and rotary shattercannons. [member="Draco Vereen"] and [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"], who apparenty had a lovely singing voice, had gone off on a hunt to cut off the hydra's head, using the wall of fire as cover. The Force had directed the redhead elsewhere.


"I'm with Firemane. You ok? You look like crap," she remarked when she approached Trextan. She didn't know the Jedi's name but recognised his face, having seen him with Voidstalker at the start of the assault. Through her comm she pinged the nearest Greycloak. If he needed backup, he could reach her that way.


There was a loud noise, like the sound of thunder, when allied artillery rained down hell upon some distant target. Dead stormtroopers, Firemane and GA soldiers lay side by side in the trench, their blood intermixing with the mud. They were all equal in the embrace of death. Today, the gods and goddesses of death were reaping a bountiful harvest. The scent of death clogged the air.


Moving through the soft mud, the firemane placed her hand on Trextan's shoulder. The battle had taken its toll on her and there was only so much she could spare, but she could gently pull at the strands of the Force and will some of her energy to flow into him.


As she did so, she saw a very familiar lightsabre hilt. A shoto. Her heart sank. She'd felt the acolyte's death through the Force, but this was visible confirmation. May you find peace in the Great White Wolf's kingdom, sister. "That's Charlyra's sabre. Did you see her fall? How'd she die?" She stayed composed, as much as the situation permitted. This was still a battlefield.

 

[Progflaw99]

​

--- --- ---​

In Vicinity:​

[member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]​

[member="Torian Pierce"] | [member="Lydia Finn-Camden"]​

​

Objective: Repel the Unknown Assailant ([member="Elliot Locke"]), Provide Relief to Citadel of Dawn​

​

Enemies: Those Resisting the First Order​

[member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="HK-36"]​

[member="Elliot Locke"] | @GA/Firemane Troops​

--- --- ---​

​

Rolf felt the air shift around him as he lunged for the culvert, his body hanging mid-air for only moments before his hands and feet stretched out, catching himself against the rough wall of the trenches. Casting a brief eye on his landing place, he noted almost comically that this small culvert had remained almost untouched by the war raging just over the berm. A table rested in the center of the depressed circular entrenchment, crates stacked haphazardly along the walls - likely ammunition packs and random supplies, forgotten in the chaos that was combat. Precious little time had they, that walked the field of battle as a profession, even shorter those whom fate had intervened on behalf of, claiming the lives of hundreds, even thousands aboard the FIV Wrath - all now irrelevant. As the Major made the effort to push himself up from the wall he briefly felt the sonic blaster, now tangled in the strap, awkwardly press against his torso. Before he had a moment to untangle the twisted strap, everything flashed. A hard contact slammed into the side of his helmet, his vision blanking out as his body was slammed into the very wall he was trying to push against.

Was this it? As if time were suspended Rolf's mind did something strange just then. Psychological files and historical records showed constantly strange happenings on the battlefield, hallucinations, visions, even the most crucial points in one's life put on playback moments before death - sometimes even occurring as a result of a particularly stressful encounter. For that frozen moment in time, Rolf was no longer bound to his physical body, his mind aloof. In fact, as he would later retell the story, he had a bird's eye view of the battlefield, countless deaths occurring around him and yet there he was. The form of a man stood above him, the weapon in his hands slowly arcing downwards as it bounced off of the muddied helmet. He felt the contact but it was distant, almost at the edge of his consciousness. And then he was rolling. An audible snap could be heard as the already tangled strap reached its limit, snapping as the blaster went rolling into the muck of the trench.

Brought back to the reality at hand, Rolf felt a sharp pain as his body landed roughly on top of a wooden crate, the wooden planks shattering under the weight of the Major and his weapons. With a flash of light and several small sparks, his HUD shorted out, a panicked scramble to rise to his feet. That wasn't a lucky shot, it wasn't even an artillery round - there was someone else there. Reaching up and curling his fingers under the edge of his helmet he did something that countermanded any instinct he had - he removed his helmet. Tearing it from atop his head he took a deep breath, eyes locking on the lone figure standing there before him. Somehow - amidst the field of battle - they had found a small respite from the overwhelming hail of blaster fire and explosions. Here they found a small refuge, it was a shame sharing wasn't in his nature.

Lifting himself to his feet, he turned to face his helmeted assailant, eyes ablaze with anger brought to the surface. He'd taken a good knock to the head but Rolf would be damned before he let that put him out of the fight. Words weren't necessary, a silent moment passing between the two as Rolf accepted the unwritten terms of combat he'd come to know so well. The slugthrower still rested in his holster, his gear still strapped to the webbing across his armor. Two sky blue eyes glared menacingly as a feral grin creeped across the Major's features. This was war, and this is what it meant to feel alive. Caught unarmed, or at least without a weapon in hand, only time would tell if this masked opponent would do the First Order Officer the honor of not shooting him where he stood - maybe even engage in a fight, mano y mano.

Spoiler

The remainder of Rolf's troops are pushing along the eastern edge of GA/Firemane Forces, attempting to loop around past the Citadel and regroup with the First Order Forces that have fallen back from the citadel.

1 x FO-01 Stormtrooper Armor

1 x KD-30 "Dissuader" Slugthrower
1 x F-11 D Blaster Rifle (Rolf's is now Missing)
1 x SWE/2 Sonic Rifle

3 x CryoBan Grenade
2 x G-20 Glop Grenades
2 x Thermal Detonators
2 x Electromagnetic Pulse Grenade
1 trooper in each squad carries a PLX-1 Portable Missile Launcher instead of Blaster and Sonic Rifles, leaving them with a KD-30 and their launcher.

Troop Complement: 1 Company, 96/200 First Imperial Shock Troopers (See Loadout Above)

OOC: As always, if I missed something or failed to respond to something - please feel free to PM me!

 

[Lynn Nantaris]

Location: Ruins of Santaissa
Allies: Jedi and Friends
Enemies: [member="Zmej Ren"]
Post: 9

The more and more this fight continued, the more Lynn began to question things. She really questioned why she wasn't wearing her proper armor, but there was no time to dwell on it. Her mind was on point, her senses were on full alert. This was a life of death battle with a wrong move could be her last, she could not hold back or expect her ability in the Force would be enough. Watching her attack unfold she also watched her opponent moves very carefully. Watching each limb, each muscle, even as simple as eye twitches that she saw the blade coming. She had two outcomes she could use. She could draw the second saber of the 4 she carried. The one attached under her sleeve to her arm and simply counter the blade, or she could use Trakata and shut off her current blade and reignite it to counter the incoming blade.

Her second lightsaber shot out of her sleeve with the aid of the Force snapping to attention and catching the blade, but not before it got a nice taste of her leg which burned and caused Lynn's heart to speed up more. She could use her training to block out the pain, but given it was her thigh this would effect her the more this continued if she didn't attend to it. She was forced back into a flip and landed on her good leg. She ripped part of her robe and wrapped her wound as best she could. She put the second Saber back up her sleeve as she only needed one here. She needed to figure out how to beat her. She had dropped the mask of anger as clearly it didn't fool her. She took a few deep breaths, this fight was hard, but aside from intense choking, a ripped leg and a whole lot of bruises she was still ready to go. She let the Force flow through her and aid her to continue on. She was learning by fire Force Endurance, but she needed to be more conservative.

 

[Mao]

Directly fighting : [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Atmosphere: Several Omega Pyre starfighers and gunships that will be getting new orders as they continue fighting First Order Troopers.
OOC: I am sorry this is late. I had a really neat post that I had written and it was lost. That just totally annoyed me. However, I will do my best to post in a timely manner. At the very least put my post in gdoc first >.>

---

The grapple caught the Fierreo and sudden her world spun. The wind knocked out of her as their positions switched. This time it was her own back to the mud and the dirt. Her own body writhing under the StormTrooper. A wiggle and experienced play of hands and she managed to at the very least free her upper torso.

By now her helm had a large crack through the visor. If one wanted to, they could easily rip her helmet off to reveal her face. Bright, oceanic eyes flaring sapphire fire eyes ignited with an ire that made Mao's blood sing. With enough room, she decided to utilize her upper torso to quickly shoot up and attempt to slam her helm onto his face. Perhaps that would strike his nose, prompting him to flare back and release her. If not, then they were going to keep at it.

For Hardock, things were just going from bad to worse. There was only so much he could do without his brothers fighting alongside with him. It was his vulnerability. The centuries of fighting and skill could not hold up against that internal sense an exiled wolf form the pack feels.

The sonic weapons struck their mark, striking at the Single Digit clone as he shuddered and fell prone. Agony ripped through him, his saber falling to the mud. The yellow blade deactivated, swallowed up by the dark churny soil that ran red with blood. Blood that had no prejudice on who would feed it.

Over head, Omega Pyre forces were moving forward within that airspace. Whatever calls of aid for ground cover would be fulfilled by them. For now, they simply slowly aided in gaining more airspace under their control, a bloody fight every second as more Omega Pyre deaths and starfighters were shot down.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Citadel of Dawn.

The Force flip was going well, that is, until [member="Joza Perl"] had decided to further attack him. Without an actual lightsabre - in hand anyway- to defend himself, his left arm was threatened of being chopped off. As was typical with ataru users, they were acrobats. They leapt around in combat, that much was certain, balance was a necessity, no doubt the Force was a factor in that. In A'sharad's position however, his left hand was in the process of being tucked into his chest, as if to protect it. When her Makrosian Shield came close, threatening to slice along the warped gauntlet, it missed, but instead seared into his shoulder. All the while, his head was coming back up as he lifted up and away from the Zeltron.

Besides the pain in his shoulder, all was well.

And then he felt heat across his face and a flash of light as his helmet burst into sparks. Before he had even landed, his concentration was lost at that point. The Zeltron's lightsabre had been coming down in a downwards slash across his back, but he moved too fast, instead, it came into contact with the top of his helmet as he upper body came back 'round. Had it not been for the instinctual flinch to the side and twisting his head away, he would've lost much more than a chunk out of his helmet.

Regardless, when he touched down, he stumbled backwards, his left arm waving around, as if searching for something - likely something to grab onto, but it found nothing. When the Sith Knight righted himself, his vision was altered. Whereas, one part of his face was still viewing the world through the helmet's photoreceptors, the other was viewing the Zeltron with his naked eye. The single visible amber orb held a vision of... Fear? No. Vyrassu didn't fear death. But as a person who had yet to be beaten in single combat, it was simply a possibility he didn't believe he'd come across.

His gaze hardened as it took in the situation. The commlink still functioned, reports from multiple battalions were coming in that they were upon dropships and were moving South, likely sending communications ahead to [member="FN-888"] that they were on the way to the garrison, any and all equipment that they could gather with them. Reports also came in of the position of [member="Rolf Amsel"]'s forces, though he doubted he was going to see, or even, hear the Major again. Not that he particularly cared, it was war, and although the Major had served under him briefly, was undoubtedly an outstanding Officer, A'sharad cared not.

Even if we lose here... The First Order is merely an outlet for my bloodlust.

With that final thought, Darth Moreth's lightsabre entered his palm and he lunged towards Joza Perl, with a hasty balestra and a slash that threatened to split her in half, from shoulder to hip.

​

 

[Dish]

Location: Northern Trenches
Objective: Kill Darksider Scum
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] and [member="Trextan Voidstalker"] potentially
Enemies: The First Order, [member="BE-183"], [member="Samka Derith"]
Status: I don't do well with lightning

As BE caught him in the side, pain shot through like a hot needles burrowing into him all at once, it hurt like hell but he couldn't afford to deal with her right now. The girl was moving, and he kept up his fire, his hand reaching towards the small of his back where his final blade, a CIS Powerblade, lay in its sheath. He contemplated running for his knife in the mud that he'd hurled at BE to disarm her, but suddenly the parasite changed her tactics, and things suddenly got worse.

As the lightning touched his sidearm he dropped it instantly, pain consuming his hand, though not rendering him incapable of function as it would've without the Phase V armor, he'd be dead in seconds without the suit as much as he hated to admit it. Then came the rest of it, the first barrage forced the stoic soldier to cry in pain, as it persisted he slowly sunk to his knees.

But then he heard her laugh. Just before he could touch the ground he froze, the barrages burning him and otherwise doing very unpleasant things that were only multiplied in the amount of pain they inflicted thanks to his physiology. Whatever happened, he was going to be recuperating for weeks afterwards if he survived. If he survived. It had been a time since he'd thought about his mortality, not that he didn't go into every engagement aware it could be his last, he just hadn't thought about it. If he died, then that would leave no one, the last of his breed, the last of his kind, and he was about to be brutally electrocuted to death by a girl chronologically one year his senior.

He wouldn't let them down like that, he wouldn't let Jorin down like that. In spite of the agony the soldier suddenly rose to his feet fully and bolted towards the girl at blinding speed, wherever she went, he'd go, he could match her reflexes, he knew he could. Roaring defiantly he pulled the powerblade from his back and balled his right hand into a fist, extending his wrist mounted blade as he closed the gap, intercepting her even as lightning raked his body. The burns and internal damage were beginning to increase in severity, and he had to stop the flow and fast. Engaging the blade he slashed at the girl's throat with alarming precision, keeping his right arm and its blade back to punch into the girl at the first opportunity.

Dish was not dying this day, not without killing this abomination first, that was for damn sure.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Objective: End Mao
Location: Citadel of Dawn.
Unit: 29 Stormtroopers left.

Rexus' grip tightened on the woman as she headbutted him. Soldiers instinct told him to keep tight. Never let the enemy get away. The hit had minimal effect anyways. While it was a surprise, Rexus' nasal cartlidge was now gone. The stormtrooper snarled at her, and slid his free hand into the crack of her helmet, a crude attempt to try and gouge her eyes out. He however saw the attempt as useless, and moved to further snap the helmet, trying to tear it off.

In the midst of battle, Sergeant Twigg continued the attack. "Up and at them boys!" Twigg barked, "There's four of them, and all of us!" Twigg snapped at the troopers, "Shoot at the ones with the guns!" Twigg barked. The stormtroopers were agile, running rings around the droids, darting through trenches, rubble and craters, drawing arcs of fire so their comrades could avoid it. As soon as a trooper slid behind cover, they would peek the massive robots, and fire. This meant that the automatons constantly were under attack . Unfortunately four troopers were caught out, and mowed down. "Get the guns!" Twigg roared, "Shoot the karkers!"

Hardock however wasn't going to end well. The stormtroopers, eager to assist their comrades behind them, held no quarter. Before the lightsaber hit the mud, a new wave of sonic waves and blaster fire hit the beleagured clone, an unrelenting torrent.
[member="Mao"] | [member="HK-36"]

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

It was hard keeping track of the ground battle, worse - trying to keep track of one specific unit. [member="Rolf Amsel"]'s unit to be sure, she lost them in the trenches somewhere. "Varactyl one to squad, form up on me - form-" Wiz. A crack shot from the Anti-Air hit through her TIE, the Interceptor was fragile enough and now she faced the strong possibility of hitting the ground. "Feth." She cursed, "form up on me, c'mon baby - c'mon." Even as high as she was, she wasn't safe from the Galactic Alliance's sudden rise in Anti-Air it seemed with each pass the amount of it increased. She wondered just where it was all coming from, certainly didn't turn up on any of their scans when they initially arrived on the planet. Now she supposed it didn't quite matter, did it? Her Interceptor had already taken a beating from that Rogue pilot - whoever he was, he'd buggered off for better things she assumed. Was she proud of herself? Not really, all her training all her - everything and she's still just the average pilot. "Next time, I'm staying on Tamanen." At least there she could take it slow, there she could be with those much like her.

Trashed children of the galaxy with no better skill than dancing. Alarms were going off, "chit." She said to herself and recalled her early career with the One Sith and the crashes she suffered there. Fear, fear was a great thing - it let you know that you were alive and it also provided to be a great motivator. Flicking on the comms to the ground units, "Major Amsel, I've got a lock on your position, Varactyl squad's forming up. Can't promise that it'll go smoothly but we've got you covered - strafing run inbound just paint a target for us."

Location : Regrouping just south of the Citadel
Objective: Regroup and provide cover fire for allies.
Allies: [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Ludolf Vaas"]
Enemies: Anyone Not in the FO.

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

 

[Ria Misrani]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dS5GfL9F7L4[/media]​

​

Aermoira wondered if what she was doing made sense. Had she lost her mind? Commander Wilhuff seemed to think so, she'd gone completely mad. Not only were they going to descend to the surface but they were going to land. "Get back on the line with them, Choi." She ordered, "we're scrapping the fleet." Her fists clenched in a quiet rage, "but we are not giving them this day and we are not giving them this planet." Her heart hurt so much, "there are people down there who were just trying to survive." Shutting her eyes she wanted to purge her emotions just as Wilhuff had always taught her, and yet it was so hard. "They're just," a pause as she took a breath, "we came here to help and I- I know, I know that when people see me, see us they don't." She wished to the balance that they were better than this that she was better than this, "I realise that when the average galactic citizen looks at me, all they see is this monster. Well, I'm sorry - I'm not, we're not monsters. We came here to help, and that's what we're going to do."

They came here for a reason, there was a mission and she would be damned if the Galactic Alliance didn't like it. "We are offering peace, stability and the chance to bring Kaeshana back, to show them that there is so much more to this world than just the radiated pisshole than they've been living in." Balance she was pissed, and rightfully so at least - she thought so. "Tell Fenrik we're coming in. And tell them, and tell them what we're doing."

Choi and Quentin nodded to each other and the orders were given. [member="FN-888"] "Fenrik this is Lieutenant Choi aboard the Emerson, we're descending now. Dispatching coordinates to you, we're going to need engineers - lots of them. We are scrapping the fleet, and turning her into a base between Fenrik and the soon to be additional garrison that is now en route to Kaeshana from Val'Hala. It is to be called Daala." He paused and then looked at Quentin, "between Fenrik and Daala will be the First Imperial Health & Science Outpost, Emerson. Details on the design are still being created."

"How long until we touch down?"

Quentin looked at the information present, "not too long there's no anti-air for me to fight through."

They could make out the humanitarian camp, "I want the Raptors to set down near the camp, mark it as Regina." She ordered as she wiped the tears from her eyes, if the cold harden gaze of an Imperial is what people wanted then that's what they would get. Aermoira reigned herself in as she watched the surface get closer and closer, and with each moment her heart rate increased. They were really doing this and she gave the order, the Raptors would be turned into a communication station, the Empires would be converted into a science outpost and the Stellaris. The Stellaris would be salvaged parts for the communications and science outpost, with the leftovers being used to create medical stations. It wouldn't be so neatly packed together as with other First Order complexes, but you worked with what you had right?

Tagging: [member="Pharazon Draken"] | [member="Garett Van"]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5VInr-cSNNU[/media]​

​

"I believe we're doing all that we can," Eldrel remarked, "survivors at this rate will be rare, have we set up a place for the body parts?"

"Aye," someone acknowledged, bearing the FIMS heavy armor gesturing toward a small platform established on the wreckage itself. "Just over there, we're trying to run on the spot DNA scans, y'know. Try and send something back to the families."

Taking a breath Leona licked her lips and looked up. Rain had begun to fall, "it's raining now, we'll have to hurry if we wish to get anything out of there with any sort of integrity before the water and decay really do damage, and then - perhaps it would be best if we didn't send anything back." She had said enough, her opinions were known and now it was time to work as she put her harness back on, the medic put a hand to her shoulder.

"You've done all that you can Major, let us work."

"I cannot sit here and do nothing."

"There's a camp, a humanitarian camp - so I hear on the chatter, lots of the First Order's military are heading there."

The pilots of the FIV Guardian chirped in now, "we've got wounded and medievac calls, Major."

"There's ya answer." The medic said with a smile, "we've got enough people here now, we'll get our folks home one way or another, Major. No one is being left behind."

"Thank you," she said graciously, and then made her way to the FIV Guardian.

 

[Garett Van]

---------------------------------------------------​

Objective: Regroup​

Location: FOB Fenrik​

Allies: First Order [member="Sara Lee Jones"] [member="FN-888"] [member="Aermoira Cyone"]​

Enemies: GA and their Allies ​

​

​

Sgt. Viera Illerian Commanding​

----------------------------------------------------------​

​

Medics rushed to gather the wounded pilot and take her into the Garrison. At this point most of the troopers under Illerian's command were exhausted. There was still more to be done, as more ships were landing nearby and Dorn Company was tasked with dismantling them, and getting another FOB up out of them, one more capable of handling the hundreds of wounded that would soon be flooding the area. ​

​

"Ten minute rest for everyone, but then we need to go help build up the medical stations."​

​

None of the troopers argued with orders, but no one nodded in an affirmation. So many days without rest for them, it was difficult to keep up for most. They weren't stormtroopers they were supposed to be here for humanitarian aid, not slogging through trenches, in combat, and seeing war. Most didn't expect this, but yet all were trained for it. Viera took this moment to rest herself, get food, water, etc. It was her time to get cleaned up and wash the dirt from her face and armor. Though this little respite was short, it was enough for most of the troopers to be able to go and help construct the new medical stations the Navy wanted to have built. ​

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Post #: 17[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Location: Southern Hemisphere Humanitarian Camp[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Objective: Medical Treatment[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Allies: First Order and Friends, Relevant: [member="Aermoira Cyone"] | [member="FN-888"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Enemies: Galactic Alliance and Friends, none directly involved.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Forces: 26 Stormtroopers (27 incl Pharazon, 21 fully combat effective, 26 combat capable). [/SIZE]
[SIZE=14.6667px]Equipment: Standard Stormtrooper Equipment.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]As the anaesthetic and painkillers flooded Pharazon’s system as he lay on the makeshift operating table, he gave one final weak smile to Joan, attempted to give her a thumbs up but discovered that his thumbs were broken and then allowed himself to drift off into unconsciousness. Cain attempted to suppress his smirk at the disparaging comment aimed at his sideburns as he watched Pharazon fall into unconsciousness. His breathing grew deeper and his blood caked eyelids slid closed over his bloodshot emerald eyes. After checking his vitals the medical staff set about preparing him for his various surgeries and ensuring that he received all necessary supplies and fluids, by military order he had been placed as a priority over all others seeking medical care at least until he was stabilised. The blood and filth that encrusted his massive exquisitely muscled body was scrubbed away, his wounds were rinsed with sterile solutions as the doctors prepared for surgery. This scene was mirrored for the other three critically wounded troopers elsewhere in the camp. Temporary Sergeant Sandalphon was being prepared to have his left leg, or more accurately the lump of flesh connected loosely by shredded muscle and tendons, amputated and artery repaired. All around the camp, the brave grenadiers of 4th Platoon recouped themselves with food and water, had minor wounds seen too, and tried to console one another.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]Sergeant Remus Cain gave Pharazon one final concerned look before turning to confer with Lieutenant Lunor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“There are twenty six troopers that could fight if absolutely necessary, however, I estimate that only twenty in addition to myself are fully combat effective and able to be formed effectively into two full squads ma’am” Cain began, falling back into detached professionalism to get him through the grim surroundings.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“As such, I would accept being folded into your platoon so as to make operating and defending the camp easier and more efficient and until such a time as Lieutenant Draken is able to resume command” Cain said, executing a full salute to his new temporary Lieutenant.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“I can have the combat ready assemble as they have had sufficient time to get their minor wounds tended to as well as time for food and drink and have almost completely reported readiness for further orders”[/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px] Cain said, putting his helmet back on and issuing orders over the platoon com to alter the troops of their secondment to Foxhound-Alpha. He also uploaded additional casualty and injury reports concerning the platoon and Lieutenant Draken to the command net to keep Captian Vortigern apprised of their situation. Vortigern acknowledged and Cain refocused on the Lieutenant.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px]“Do you have any immediate orders regarding the incoming First Order personnel and equipment ma’am” he asked professionally and attentively.[/SIZE]

 

[Aeda Shaytari]

Santaissa/Kaida

Enemies: [member="Arlen Rossi"] [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Isla Ashen"]
Allies: [member="Ryan Korr"] [member="Kaida Taldir"] [member="Six-O"]
Commanding: Valora’s Chosen (In Yazgids) + Honour Guard of 10 Angelii of similar equipment and experience.

The ruins of Santaissa were awash still with violence and battle. Whilst Kaida, Ryan and Six attempted to bring down the piscine Sith Lord, Aeda had another task.

The First Order had largely abandoned the ruined city, moving to the Citadel of Dawn to attempt to seize that position. Thus, the Eldorai could once again stake claim to their shattered ancient capital. There were no civilians left in the city. Those few who had been squatting in the ruins had long ago dispersed or been taken away by one side or the other.

Thus, Aeda was able to command her Angelii forces to mount up in their Yazgids and speed to key locations in the ruins. The old palace, the ruins of Lion’s Gate Spaceport, the fringes of the city. Mostly they took position in the ruins facing the Citadel of Dawn.
If the First Order attempted to take the city they would be grossly outnumbered, but would have good positions and weapons to at least delay them. Fortunately, it was a fair distance from the city to any First Order troops so they’d get good warning.

However, they would not be defending alone for long. With Dusk secured, a force of troops from that sector were flying towards Santaissa to extend the control of the city. Aeda was glad of that, less glad by who was commanding this force though, [member="Tarissa Cadalthor"].

 

[Hansen]

FN-888 "Helden"
Kaeshana Southern Hemisphere, Humanitarian Camp.

Joan pulls helmet back over her golden crown, the hermetic seal inflates and clasps down around her throat gently. Helmet's faceplate turns to Sergeant Cain, and her the left-hand falls over the forehead in thought. "Alright, send the telemetry data for your platoon to me and I will patch you into the Ironhound's TEAMCOM." Forearm extends and fingers dance across the vambrace at some featureless keys, temporarily opening the Ironhound's TEAMCOM without the necessity of needing to pass through the frequencies' biometric security. Joan's feet walk for the exit into the camp's clearing if Sergeant Cain follows behind Joan outside he'll be greeted with the sight of several vehicles in a single rank. A number of advanced AT-STs stand behind a pair of tracked tanks and matte black AT-AT towers ominously above the camp's arches at the end of the armoured file. White-armour clad Stormtroopers rappel down from the port and starboard cargo doors on Malachor down to the grass ridden muddy soil. Joan's index finger points towards the tent containing the most wounded Eldorai women and children. "Here are your orders; round up the Eldorai children in a stable condition and prepare them for transport to Fenrik, have their mothers ride on the back of Khan and Chevron's tanks." Joan pivots in boots towards Cain to face him, Sev approaches from behind with members of his section. "The children deserve better than this squalid camp, and given a number of friendly casualties are flooding in, I want to separate the civilians from military personnel but put them somewhere we can keep an eye on them." Joan explains her motives, one might conclude there is an uncommon Compassion in the Stormtrooper Officer.

Joan's helmet fills with a wide-channel hail from some First Order vessel descending down into Atmosphere. Engineers shouldn't be an issue, there were plenty still working at Fenrik last she was aware. "Emerson this is Foxhound-Alpha, roger, ample resources are available for the task Over." Joan replies to the officer's message to all callsigns associated with the Fenrik Teamcom. Gaze looks back to Sergeant Cain, trying to assess his character.

"What did you want to do here boss?" Sev's query catches Joan's attention just long enough for her to provide an order. "Setup a platoon harbour around the camp, that includes Ironhounds two through five. Send three section with the children in Malachor and have Khan and Chevron take the women on their cargo beds back to Fenrir." A brief pause with a sigh. "The rest of us are staying here with Sergeant Cain's men who have joined the platoon. We'll provide security for this camp until we can be relieved. Get everyone into a defensive posture, dig slit trenches on this side of the death fence. They'll double as latrines when we're done with them later." Joan's left glove pulls a collapsable entrenching tool from webbing and waits for Sergeant Cain to return from his assigned task. Members of one and two section disperse around the Camp's fenced perimeter and start digging a slit trench, three section begin preparing gurneys to hoist up the wounded children into Malachor's hold.

[member="Pharazon Draken"] [member="Aermoira Cyone"]

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

[member="Elpsis Elaris"] [member="Tempest"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Charlyra Araano"]

For a moment he stood there. His head bowed and his mud and rain soaked hair falling forwards over his face in clumps. His chest still heaved as he drew in air, but he was grateful for the rejuvenation he could feel flowing through him from where she laid her hand upon him. His eyes panned to either side of them. The rain washed the blood into rivulets than ran down towards the lower ground. He wanted to leave this place now. Where had Jacen gone? He'd seen him in the distance, had felt his presence when he'd cut down the stormtroopers trying to shoot him.

He lifted his chin to face the Firemane jedi. "Charlyra," he said plainly. Saying her name out loud seemed to galvanise his memory of the woman who had saved him. He reached for the saber at his belt and held it up. "I was losing a fight with one of their Ren. More machine than man he seemed, a black suit. I don't know where she came from but she joined the fight. I'm not quite sure what happened. They collided, the Force swirled about them and then I felt her become one with the Force. I don't know if the Ren died or not. I left him there.

"He wielded this."

He didn't feel a swell of emotions. That regret was a pang buried down now. Trextan felt numb all of a sudden. Cold. Part of that had been building during his unceremonious trudge back as he'd considered the Sith teachings that told him of glorious battles. Nothing felt glorious right now. But something else rose when his fingers touched the cold metal of the Ren's saber. Something dark.

 

[Vaena Askari]

Location: Santaissa
Enemies: First Order
Allies: [member="Aeda Shaytari"], [member="Six-O"]


Santaissa was a ruined ghost town. When Nemesis came to Kaeshana and the asteroid devastated the planet, the capital had been hit the hardest. Even the Grand Cathedral of Ashira and the Ziggurat had been reduced to shadows of their former glory.


But though the capital was a hollow husk, it was still an important symbol. The First Order seemed to have largely stripped it of forces for the fight that raged at the Citadel of Dawn. The wind's howl echoed across the ruins, almost sounding like a lament for all those who'd perished during the cataclysm.


Tarissa had been more than a little grumpy when her small flotilla was put under Admiral Kyrana Gould's command. Sure, the Eldorai aristo was not a professional naval officer, but it still rankled her. Lacking anything to do in space, she'd gone to Dusk to help reinforce positions there, before making her way towards the ancient capital.


The blizzard continued to rage with intensity across Santaissa, bathing the ruins in white and significantly reducing visibility. Her Eldorai troops had been forced to land near the city's outskirts. Despite these precautions, a dropship had still been lost. But now they were there, approaching Aeda's location. Tarissa was glad that the Angelii were reclaiming the city, she was far less glad about the fact that she'd have to work with Aeda. She was quite certain that the Grand Seraph was a closeted apostate. Moreover, she found it difficult to read her, which was vexing.


Glad in her cortosis armour, with an orange bladed lightsabre and a Magnetic Revolver at her side, Tarissa stepped out of her armoured personal carrier when it came to a halt and the hatch opened. A personal battle shield was strapped to her back. Snow crunched beneath her boots when she stepped towards the Eldorai Grandmaster. Meanwhile, regular Eldorai soldiers and Angelii from the prestigious Ashira's Blade Company fanned out, backed up by some walkers as they moved towards their targets to support Aeda's warriors. Their armour was coloured to blend in with the snowy environment. Her own elemental powers kept her warm amidst the biting cold.


"Grand Seraph, I imagine your pet Taldir was responsible for the blizzard. Do tell her to restrain her penchant for conjuring up natural disasters at every possible moment a bit. It affects us as well!" This writer's characters have a tendency of disliking one another for totally valid reasons. On the bright side, the blizzard could also work to their advantage, especially since the Angelii were elemental warriors.


"I've dispatched forces towards the palace and the Lion's Gate. Ashira's banner will once again fly over the ziggurat. What is the status of your deployment?" Tarissa would've continued on, but at this moment her comm crackled. Feeling a bit annoyed, she took it, after rubbing some frost from the device. "Yes, Talon, what is it?" The Duchess sounded irritable, but this was not an unusual occurence.


There was a bit of static on the other end. "Have moved...ruins...discovered..."


"Do speak up, girl." Damn blizzard!


"Crucifixion sites."

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

Location: Northern Trenches
Objective: Engage dark side users
Allies: [member="Dish"]
Enemies: The First Order, [member="BE-183"], [member="Samka Derith"]

Once more duty was in the way of his life. In the distance he had seen Trextan making his slow way back to Alliance lines. The Force moved darkly around the youth, but he hadn’t seemed wounded. Every instinct had told him to go to his son and bring him back safely. Then he’d felt the screech of madness echo through the Force. A dark creature near their position. Bounding around throwing arcs of lightning was a good way to attract attention and Jacen knew about that; his armour featured garish scarlet scales.

With his shield on one arm and his blade in the other he made his way towards the threat. A trooper burst out of cover to engage him, but his blade worked a tight defensive pattern. He deflected a bolt back towards the trooper with unnerving accuracy and called on the Force to yank the soldier out of cover. The red bolt cut right through him. As a Jedi he knew that every life was worth saving, but as a hardened soldier he knew this wasn’t always possible in the middle if a battle.

He saw the Ren darting around the trenches and a soldier he assumed from their own side trying to close the distance between them. Jacen wasn’t prone to rash action. He hadn’t survived the long campaign against the One Sith by leaping into action at the first sight of a threat. Something he would have to teach Trextan over time.

Instead as he made his slow advance, he called on the Force. With telekinesis he reached out towards Samka. Rather than throw or pull on her form, he simply attempted to hold her firm and keep her rooted to the spot. It would feel like a harness wrapping around her shoulders and trying to drag her down.

Step by step he crossed the last of the mud towards her, saber at the ready. Just another challenge in a lifetime of war for the hardened veteran.