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

[Asharad Graush]

Location: Onboard Daisya Infiltrator.

When Darth Vyrassu had touched down into the cargo bay of the starship, he stumbled when the ship lurched forwards and started down South. Not unlike those such as, [member="Pharazon Draken"], [member="FN-888"], and [member="Aermoira Cyone"], however, instead of heading directly to the Camp, Vyrassu's ship followed the troop transports that were pulling away from the Citadel of Dawn. Why allow your entire army to be defeated and slain, when you can retreat and fight another day? An idea that the Sith Knight agreed with, partially. A part of him had still wanted to vacate the area while allowing the entirety of the White Wolves fight to the last.

Alas, he made an effort to actually win today.

One of the technicians walked towards him, wrestling the still active lightsabre out of his hand and turning it off before shadowing the Sith to his private chambers. That is, until he stumbled. Although difficult to see in the dimly lit cargo room, two of [member="HK-36"]'s rounds had struck the Sith in the back, rather than the open wounds that were towards the front of the armour. One penetrated the left shoulder that [member="Joza Perl"] weakened with her blade, at least, 'weakened' was the word A'sharad would've used. Bent, warped, and slightly crippled armour threatening to burrow into the wound was a more apt description. Additionally, another one ripped through his armourweave cloak and struck him in the lower back and off to the left as well, the one that he truly felt enough to trigger the stumble.

"Remove my armour."

"My Lord, it's damaged extensively, it'll take ti-"

"Take. It. Off." Had it not been for the warped gauntlet on his left, and the right hand wrist that had been almost been lopped off, that was threatening to fall on its own, someone certainly would've been in danger of a slow death.

"U-uhhhuuuhh, yes, My Lord." The servant was conscious enough to realize that they had received a second chance, though the Sith had no intent on allowing him to live when he was free of his current bonds. It would take time to take it off entirely, time that A'sharad needed to lead. So he delegated. Turning his head while a duo of servants worked on taking off his armour, the comm in his ear activated at the sound of his voice, and there was the much needed response he required.

"Yes, Darth Vyrassu?"

"Gather as much as High Command on Kaeshana as you can. Request they make themselves known at Fenrik. The White Wolves' General demands it."

"Supreme Commander Va-"

"Is busy. Do it." Click.

 

[Eisenweber]

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

Joan passes Sergeant Cain the occasional glance, even beneath all of that white armour she could detect a Stormtrooper's emotions, and generally what is on their mind. Such a skill comes only with being born and raised wearing equipment that covered the whole body. One had to search for subtle physical cues. Sergeant Cain is bothered by his thoughts if not the ground that they are now required to shift for the sake of those whom they have been charged to protect. Malachor's locomotors shift and the AT-AT walker steadily begins to pivot in the direction of Fenrik, with a pair of Assault tanks leading it. Eldorai women and men sit on the cargo beds of these assault tanks, desperately clinging to water and food provided to them by Joan's Stormtroopers. Joan's heart feels pity for those forsaken souls, forgotten by the Alliance and their own people. The Eldorai in time will make for a valuable addition to the First Order, all had their place. Attention settles back onto Sergeant Cain. "Something is bothering you, Sergeant, what is it?" Joan might appear to be a mind-reader of sorts from the question, although Sev could see it aswell. Joan buries her entrenching tool into the dirt and leans off of it like a cane, eyes watching the Sergeant expectantly.



Capt. Dietrich Bexley
FIV Whisperer Bridge, Above Humanitarian Camp

Dietrich folds hands behind back with a sigh and his hand glides over a five o' clock shadow with his icy spheres peering out over the quaint Humanitarian camp elements of Alpha company are guarding attentively. "Leah dear, can you see to it Ned brings up a bacon sandwhich." He makes the request off-cuff followed up by another request. "Just some single-malt scotch to please love." Dietrich makes note of the camp's squalid conditions and throws an accusatory glance towards his flight control officer. "Flight, load up our Barges with First Aid supplies and rations. And send a platoon down in the Assault Landers to distribute the supplies to camp staff and civilians." Dietrich's eyes fill with a certain contempt, he had no love for non-humans especially those as reportedly arrogant as the Eldorai. But, they are in need and he suspected the supplies would not only reach the Civilians but also First Order Military personnel who he owes a duty of care to.

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

 

[Cyrus Tregessar]

FIV CONTEMPT
CIC
KAESHANA SYSTEM
OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE ENEMY FORCES
ALLIES: [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Aran Piett"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]
ENEMIES: [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Kyrana Gould"] | [member="Alexandra Morrow"] | [member="Vilin"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eeJ-z6lgojU​

It seemed his enemy had decided to pursue him even unto death. So long as Commodore Rausgeber continued his pursuit (which seemed inevitable despite the enemy tearing away at his stern) it meant that Therapy Command was being drawn into an increasingly deadly trap, with an ever-narrowing opportunity to escape. Ideally the enemy commander would falter and turn to face Rausgeber, who would blow through, utilizing his by now totally superior firepower to cripple and destroy the fleet, then link up with Cyrus' forces and turn to face the pursuing force as one. A sort of concave double-envelopment.

The problem here was that it depended on the initial defending force (in this case, Cyrus' squadron) having enough strength to last. At the moment, it seemed that mutual annihilation was the most likely outcome of the ongoing fight, at least between himself and Therapy Commmand.

While the truth was Cyrus had no clear idea who the commander of the enemy force was, he was developing something of a grudging respect for their tenacity. It wasn't he most glamorous way to fight battles, being more a hallmark of Imperial or Sith officers who cared little for flashy tactics and could generally expect to have more and heavier ships than their opposition. The former Chief of the OS Navy, Grand Admiral Myth Worgemuth, had turned simple tenacity into an art form (before he'd died during the Omega War). For most others it wasn't quite so pretty, but it certainly had it's moments.

The volume of enemy fire was decreasing though, as they struggled to keep up with damage and deal with the force fast approaching their rear. But that weren't letting up either, as the reports of damage from both VIndicator Carriers soon indicated. Cyrus gave orders out sparingly, letting individual ship captains maneuver as they saw best, but he kept his formation together and fighting defensively. They did little damage, and focused fire rarely, preferring to keep up For the Contempt he simply gave an order for the captain to utilize its armor scheme as best he could. That meant taking hits on the edges of the ship, where the damage would likely knock pieces off but have little effect on the core operations of the vessel. The repair bill was gonna be hell though.

The burden of time was on the enemy. They had to destroy the Contempt and its escorts with enough time and strength to spare that they could hold on and resist Rausgeber's force. All Cyrus had to do was survive.

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: Northern Trenches, near Citadel of Dawn
Allies: The First Order - [member="BE-183"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance - [member="Dish"] & [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]


Forceful blocking and limited body movement. Good. Samka was already getting an idea of how her opponent fought in just two probing attacks. Now he was advancing on her, a sharp thrust aimed at her midriff. She let the blade come close to reaching her then parried with a swing of her lightsaber, aiming to knock his weapon to the left while, in the same moment, twirled around to Jacen's less defended right side to unleash a quick, unfocused burst of Force Lightning from her free hand at his shoulder.

She was beginning to show her style. Samka took several speedy steps back from her foe and shoot Jacen a smug grin. The girl spun her lightsaber around between her fingers to showcase her control, her precision and, of course, satisfy her need to make everything into a performance. All the while, her body did not stop moving. Hips, shoulders, arms and knees rocked and flowed constantly, never pausing nor giving her foe an inkling of her next move. She was always ready to react, to move and counter. At heart, she was always the dancer. To the soldiers, mercenaries and other such brutes of the galaxy, to compare a battle to a dance would be an insult but she knew the truth. It was about movement, footwork and being able to read the motions of your 'partner'. To her, there wasn't much difference at all and so she set upon Jacen Voidstalker once more with a series of flurrying jabs and flicks, parries and faints. A stab to the chest would become a slice to the neck with scarcely a moment's notice while she danced, weaved and hopped in and out of range, constantly seeking weak spots to exploit.

There was another way in which she would push the Jedi too. Hopefully, her words had sewn the tiniest doubt in his mind. She was far too busy focused with fighting in the physical world to use the full extent of her mental prowess but she would press when she could. There was a powerful mental block there, one there was a good chance she could never hope to break without redirecting focus from the physical duel but still she whispered doubts and sent tendrils of cold fear to delve in and seek out a weak point.

The rain grew heavier but by now, the teenager could barely register it. Now she was too engrossed in the battle and everything else a mere distraction. She had to kill him.

 

[Progflaw99]

--- --- ---​

In Vicinity:​

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

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

​

Objective: Repel the Unknown Assailant ([member="Elliot Locke"]), Displace just South of the Citadel​

​

Enemies: Those Resisting the First Order​

[member="Tempest"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Elpsis Elaris"]​

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

--- --- ---​

​

He felt the give in the man's armor as he punched the block against his assailant's ribs, one, two... *Craaack* A satisfying crunch accompanied the solid blows to the other soldier's midsection - unfortunate that he couldn't revel in his success longer. Blaster bolts passed them at close proximity but they seemed to escape their notice - to lose focus at a time so critical spelled certain death. As the pair struggled, in a flash of clarity before blood covered his right eye, he saw the reporter jump like a feral animal onto the back of his enemy. He felt the additional weigh, however light, throw the pair off balance, struggling to keep their feet. He caught the blurry image of a slugthrower wildly in the corner of his eye and then he felt the subtle tug on his webbing, despite the regular bump and jostle of the grapple.

An audible tone, louder without the acoustic buffer that had been his helmet caused his eyes to widen. *That's not supposed to happen.* Before he had time to contemplate the tone any further, what was left of his vision was filled once more with the transparisteel of his enemy's helmet. It cam crashing down without remorse, a loud crack and a sudden release of pressure - blood came cascading from the Major's now shattered nose. The pain was overwhelming, and before he could even begin to process that, the rapid expulsion of adhesive sent gobs of the sticky substance everywhere. Partially blocked by the proximity of the men's bodies, the glop grenade had covered the entire breastplate of Rolf's armor and saturated the ground aside.

As the duo fell to ground, what Rolf felt next was panic. Around his throat he could feel the intense pressure as the fingers of the enemy soldier wrapped around the now weak spot in his armo; without the hard edge of a helmet to break the man's grip he was in a tight spot. The Major kicked his legs, his arms coming up inside, between the man's outstretched arms and clasped his hands together behind the man's helmet. Pulling in hard he hoped to dash the man's helmet into his chest plate, or wring the man's neck sideways to get him to release his grip - through the panic he fought. The sticky mess of goo made any movement difficult, his legs barely able to get any traction aside from stretching the sticky goo. He would have to hope he could overpower the man before him, though by all accounts he was at a disadvantage - but he could still work with that.

 

[BE-183]

( 100th post :v )

Post: 17
Location: Citadel of Dawn - Around the trenches / En route to the southern hemisphere
Objective: Still fighting / Extract Kyrel Ren
Status: Rifle gone, knife dropped; shoulder pad and chestplate cracked, cut hand / 6th platoon offscreen
Allies: First Order - [member="Samka Derith"]
Enemies: Galactic Alliance - [member=Dish] and [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]

It was a logical consequence of Bee's programming that the Jedi's words didn't distract her. She believed there was a reason for every one of the Order's actions. Burnt corpses were common in the wake of the flametroopers; it had to be the rampant criminal element she had fought earlier, as agents of disorder such as murderers, they tended to treat with all the due disrespect.

If the supersoldier had wanted to appear unarmed, it may have been best not to go for the powerblade again. She had considered asking if he'd changed his mind about surrender, but currently the question was moot. As long as he continued to present a threat, he'd be regarded as such.

At first he appeared to stagger, but fought against the impact to pull out his primary blaster. It was not the most concentrated fire, seemingly intent on suppression. In response she darted low, laterally, adjusting to the shape of the ruins to shield herself and altering her aim slightly to target the joints of his weapon arm.

 

[Rhen Qel-Droma]

CITADEL OF THE DUSK
Shields active and deployed
Darksky Area Shield - Active and cloaking the area.
Aspis Defence Shield - Active and reinforcing the Darksky shield.

"What news do we have?" Rhen inquired in his thick voice. The Knight's robes were covered in a thin coating of grime and even blood. Sweat beaded over his forehead. He had joined the rest of the Jedi Service Corps to ensure the smooth transition of checking in all the found refugees.

"We have set up triage centers on these coordinates." the ExplorCorps Ranger replied. Dusk wasn't the only Forward Operating Base that had been established by the Alliance. There were other, smaller branches, some of which were likely doing their best to remain under the radar.

"So far, none have seen any instance of fire outbreaks, but with how news reports continue to escalate at Dawn," the Ranger gave a grim twist of her lips. " Then I wouldn't expect them to remain out of the conflict for too long."

"Do they need aid?"

"Perhaps some reinforcements."

Rhen scrunched up his thick bushy brows.

"I'll see what we can do."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Citadel of Dawn trenches.
Objective: Get to a Medevac
Allies: First Order- [member="Samka Derith"], [member="BE-183"]
Enemies: Galactic Alliance- [member="Dish"], [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]


With each minute Kyrel grew more into despair. He couldn't see a thing, his optics rendered inoperable the same as the rest of his suit. He couldn't move, and for what it had been he felt that he should be left to die. At least that is what his despair told him. His rational thinking on the other hand, told him to keep fighting and to find someway to make it out of the predicament he was in. How would he do that though, Imperial forces were far from where he was, and if he didn't get out soon than Alliance forces would be crawling all over. Still he couldn't loose hope, he was Kyrel Ren servant of the Supreme Leader and emissary to his will. He would and shall not die in the dirt on some force forsaken world.

He went into a meditation state, conserving his energy and waited for help to arrive. This went on for what seemed like hours, till he heard the hard sound of footsteps approaching. He soon recognized it as a stormtrooper from the voice that could be heard over the comlink in the helmet. He than felt two set's of arms drag him upwards, and heard what seemed to be sarcastic remarks on how it would take a lot more than crawling to get to death's door. He breathed a sigh of relief as he suit was heavily dragged across the ground. He sensed a familiar presence, it was BE-183 and also the Purple haired teenager known as Samka. Looks like their was hope for him yet, but he sensed two attackers close to him, and mentally slapped himself at his incompetence. If he could move, he would be able to help his allies. Even if he could move his arms he could at least deflect blasterbolts, but he was in no shape to fight at least not in this battle any longer.

He was just left brooding as the soldiers dragged him away from combat.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Location: Citadel of Dawn Trenches
Enemies: [member="Samka Derith"] [member="BE-183"] [member="Ludolf Vaas"] [member="Kyrel Ren"]
Allies: [member="Taryc Ap'Irae"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Dish"]
Music

Stormtroopers were fairly run of the mill soldiers as far as things went. Everyone had their stormtrooper analogues these days, basic line troopers who made use of a variation of different weaponry in an attempt to counter their enemies' basic line troopers.

Draco stalked through the trenches with the spandex wearing Taryc Ap'Irae, using Force Drain on whole squads as they approached him. That is when they saw him. The trenches had been blasted, lightning struck, and had a massive wall of fire conjured by several Force Users burn towards First Order lines and he was making use of camouflage and trying to move quietly to avoid the largest swarms while ambushing and confronting the smaller ones at close range. Red lightning pelted from his finger tips to revitalize himself on the nameless dregs of the First Order's minions. With small bursts of speed and strength he darted among a squad of troopers lashing out at them with his axe in a wide arc to rent them asunder without using the Force.

There was no need to completely fatigue himself killing off every Stromtrooper around Dawn. Besides, the Galactic Alliance might look the other way with a Unifying Force Adept making use of Force Drain and Healing from a calm center, but would likely draw the line somewhere well before summoning fields of soul-sucking death auras came into play.

The taste of blood teased his mouth and polluted his facial hair after his heavy exertion to create the wall of flame, yet still the Warlord moved on through the trenches. His eyes and senses were expanded, the Force slowly returning to him after his push through both draining the enemy and recovering from the fatigue as he was left largely alone with his compatriot. "Keep low and keep alert Taryc." At the edge of his senses he could feel several beacons of light and other smears of darkness. Given the fanaticism of the First Order, it was sensible to assume that their fledgling Force Order would be in a leadership role.

The head of the snake was nearby. It had to be. Without direct control, even the best trained troops broke down order and became easily confused. Once the head was torn off, that would be the case on Kaeshana and then he could begin his search for his true objectives.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Samka Derith"] [member="Dish"] [member="BE-183"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Draco Vereen"]

Jacen didn’t care for that smug look. Or the unnecessary twirl of the blade. He could see the logic in the constant motion, trying to keep him constantly reacting, never dictating the pace himself. That was something he needed to change to gain the upper hand. As light as she was, it was still wasteful to keep up such a routine. The Ren was constantly trying to deflect his attention. He would have to let the Force be his guide as much as his eyes. Months of training with [member="Adele Adonai"] had taught Jacen to fight in an almost meditative state, immersed in the flow of the Force.

The bolt of lightning came inside his blade, striking the shoulder that had already taken a blaster bolt. Terentatek hide could resist many effects of the Force, but lightning was a very physical attack merely manifested from the Force. Pain lanced down his right side before he could snap his blade back in. The rest of the arcs lashed uselessly against his golden blade.

The Jedi Marshal grunted in frustration. As she danced in again he kept his footwork controlled, taking the inside line to keep her from getting around him. His right arm was still painful, no matter how much he used his mental control to push it to the periphery of his mind. A slow block and her saber skipped off the scarlet scales of his armour.

Voidstalker had to give a step, something he hadn’t wanted to do. The kept up, her focus honed so tightly on her prey as she gave everything to bring him down. Jacen needed to break the cycle, get inside her rhythm and force her to fight to his tempo. He wouldn’t do that giving ground.

He felt those dark tendrils probing against the edges of his mind. The experienced combatant followed those trails back to the young mind of the sith. Perhaps her walls were not so thick. He pressed out from behind his mental walls. A simple assault, yet with a great deal of power behind it. He tried to cut the girl off from her own senses, to see how she would dance without her sight or sense of balance. In the same moment he used his strength to forcefully block, trying to push he blade off line. The scarlet wall of his shield would suddenly approach from her right as he stepped up to try and slam it into her lithe form.

 

[Krenis Skirata]

Citadel of Dawn
[member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Samka Derith"] [member="BE-183"]
[member="Elliot Locke"] [member="Dish"] [member="Canal"] [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"]
-----------------------

Krenis paused at the intersection where the trenches met the citadel, or what was left of it. By the looks of it, it'd been decimated by the asteroid strike and then even more by the battle raging around. Stormtroopers were menacing in their uniformity, but they weren't clone troopers. If anything, they copied the legacy, but couldn't match it. Certainly not against the best of the clone troopers. But there wasn't much fight left here. They seemed to be withdrawing their forces, although to where, he couldn't guess.

But they were at an entrance to the Citadel now. He nodded to his squad and they nodded back beneath the helmets, hefting their weapons again and forming a breach position. Krenis was on point, Westar rifle at the ready, switched to burst fire, with the underslung grenade ready to go. He counted down the seconds and then burst through the entrance, already stepping aside so the ones behind him could bring their weapons to bear and maneuver to cover their lanes of fire.

Krenis fired a burst, catching a stormtrooper in the chest and then he ducked behind an outcrop of stone as a repeating blaster rifle echoed against the air. Several downed fighters lay littered around inside the citadel. One even looked like an X-wing, which was interesting. He tossed a thermal detonator, watching it arc across the air and land in the dug-out. The soldiers dove for cover, but not before it detonated, throwing dirt and debris and stormtroopers several meters.

The squad moved forward, from cover to cover, alternating supressing fire and targeted fire. Behind them, Krenis caught the IFF of Alliance forces moving in to secure their breach.

He paused suddenly, alert. A friendly appeared on the sensors. Alliance pilot, miraculously still uncaptured despite being within the heart of the enemy defenses.

"New mission," he said through the comms. "Secure and exfiltrate downed friendly. Distance of 100 meters. Enemy armor still present."

Krenis knelt again, listening to the Alliance comms. "This is Shriek-Hawks. Moving to exfiltrate downed friendly."

"Confirmed, Shriek-Hawks. Medics just south of your position. Marking coordinates. Infantry informed. Will cover exfiltration."

"Roger that. Shriek-Hawks out."

Krenis slipped a new power-pack into the Westar and double checked the Deathrattle carbine. It still had enough juice left for an exfiltration. He marked the last time he'd seen the pilot on the sensors and studied the layout of the ground around the location, trying to predict where the pilot might have gone. Krenis made a guess and sprinted forward, then ducked to the ground, below a barrage of blaster fire. The squad of Mandalorians did the same behind him. It paused, and the ones behind him returned fire, aided by some portable repeating blasters the Alliance forces had constructed.

Then he was up and running again for a few moments, then back to the ground. Now it was his turn to provide suppressing fire. His helmet marked enemy IFFs and he moved between them, sighting in and firing, cycling through targets that evaded his fire. The others moved up behind him, weaving through the battlefield debris as cover.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

Location: Citadel of Dawn
Enemies: [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Allies: [member="HK-36"], [member="Mao"], [member="Djacen Koyne"]


BOOM


Even amidst the cacophony of sound caused by the battle, the roar of mass driver weapons and the noise caused by the First Order's medical ships, the massive explosion could not be missed when Mao's thermal detonator erupted in a bright flash of white light. Siobhan's beskar armoured shape had reached the trenches.


The apparent stormtrooper commander (Rexus Wenck) was down and apparently a bloody mess. Mao was probably not doing any better. Four stormtroopers blocked her path towards the stalwart Omega Pyre soldier. From this distance, Siobhan could not assess what state Mao's body was in, but it was obviously not good! She needed to get to her quickly if she wanted to help.


Siobhan was not the in the mood to muck around. Drawing upon the tangled web of power that was the Force, she wrapped her telekinetic willpower around the four soldiers in order to seize them with a crushing grip and fling them away with enough force to break bones.


"Take him and leave," she growled towards the medical team. They would be best advised to take their commander and the other wounded and go. Especially since Djacen's GA infantry company alone already outnumbered them. Firemane and allied forces would not target medical ships.

 

[Dish]

Location: Trenches
Allies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], [member="Draco Vereen"], [member="Joza Perl"], [member="HK-36"], the Galactic Alliance
Enemies: [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="BE-183"], [member="Samka Derith"], the First Order
Objective: Tank it
Status: Heavy burning to limited areas, limited muscular damage, blaster bolt in side

BE's shots became increasingly focused on his limbs, he had to adapt if he was to keep himself up. He tried to take stock of his inventory but quite plainly the task would take too long, he had milliseconds. So he bolted forward.

His entire body screamed as he propelled himself forward and past the stormtrooper, dropping into a roll and coming up onto his knees behind the trooper. His movements as he pivoted towards BE his movements were slower, not drastically but noticeably so, somewhere around the level of an average soldier as composed to the lighting quick responses displayed earlier. Bringing up the rifle as fast he could, he let off a quick burst at BE's dominant arm, aimed at the shoulder, but the shaking in his arms could've put the shots any number of place including not on the trooper at all.

The move had been reckless, but his back was thoroughly armored as well as his shoulders, and he had to take away the trooper's cover and ability to fire with impunity. She likely saw him as a monster, some sort of mercenary who'd undergone gruesome procedures in order to make more profit in whatever contracts he'd undertaken. It would be a logical assumption, as soldier with non-uniform armor sporting a design that certainly wasn't regulation. Yet he and her were more alike than anything, how odd it was the perceptions both sides had of each other could be so wrong.

 

[Trextan Voidstalker]

[member="Ludolf Vaas"] [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Samka Derith"]

Smoke hung low across much of the no man’s land that had opened up between Alliance and Order forces. A gunship high overhead launched flares as it banked away from a pair of screeching TIE fighters. The ground ahead of Trextan was suddenly illuminated as if it was under a clear, midday sun.

The shifting light almost made it seem as if the figures he could see where moving. They weren’t. The medical evacuations had been thorough from both sides. Rifles and other weapons, vehicles of war, all stood up at odd angles. It was an eerily silent graveyard. Trextan had never seen anything like it.

Jacen was nearby, he could sense it. The Force also told him there was nothing living in the field of war he was stood observing. So why did the Force urge him to go forwards? It scared him, the thought of striking out on his own into the open ground. Yet the Force was his guide. It had kept him in one piece so far today.

With his saber dangling from his right hip, Trextan pushed on into the open air mausoleum.

 

[Kiyron]

Santassia-> 1km from Citadel of Dawn
---------------

The transports didn't make their pick-up. For whatever reason why, Kiyron couldn't tell. The two shuttles had arrived, preparing to evacuate the two Sith. Kiyron had intercepted, since they hadn't responded to the fire headed their way. Instead, he'd turned his rifle, carrying 14 mm explosive rounds, onto the ships, targeting the cockpit viewports on the closest. The magazine had emptied itself and he'd dropped it, replacing it with armor-piercing rounds that had hammered the ship, then he'd moved to the other one, darting aside as they tried to turn and return fire.

Things had been a blur afterwards, and he found himself elsewhere, but he was fairly certain that the ships hadn't escaped with a SIS Agent in tow. The battle at the tower had ended. The First Order scout battalion was withdrawing into the city. He dropped atop a nearby roof-top, taking stock. All communications were indicating the same thing. First Order forces were withdrawing and retreating to the South. Intelligence on the nature of where and for what reason was non-existent, but that was a good sign. The Northern theater was falling into the hands of the Alliance. Reinforcements would be arriving shortly to secure the territory.

The Citadel was still heavily engaged. He activated the repulsor-pack once more and sped off, keeping the ruined buildings between him and the fleeing First Order troops.

Some time later, he dropped to the ground about a kilometer from the citadel, and settled onto the bluff, looking out to the citadels. They were withdrawing here as well. He let them be. No need to fight a retreating enemy. But for now, he would wait and watch. Should they counter-attack, he was ready.

 

[Roth Tillian]

[member="Asmus Janes"] [member="Kurt Meyer"] [member="Cathul Thuku"] @Carlysle Rausgeber
--------------------

Roth grunted as his fighter shook from where it caught some bolts of hostile energy, but it wasn't bad. The ship would survive, shields were just depleted. He brought the craft around, faster than its engineers would have encouraged, but he managed it. The other B-wings followed suit. The D-Wings, well, they were fast enough to handle themselves, and with precognitive abilities, could handle themselves. Those VT gatlings would peel open the TIEs.

"Roger that, Rogues," Roth replied as the urgent comment came through the comms. "Hitting target."

The squadron swooped in behind him, spreading out to ensure no friendly fire and let loose on the First Order ship. Barrages of ion cannons and lasers hammered down to the bridge. Three ion cannons per fighter, so sixteen total ion cannons all hammering the bridge, along with two or three proton torpedoes from each fighter.

Roth pulled away from the bridge, turning away for another loop around, watching the activities of Rogue Squadron and their pincer. He was itching to join and help, but that wasn't their role. Even the far more maneuverable version of the B-wing he was flying didn't have the capacity for an extended intense dog-fight. But what he had was something else.

The Force.

So far, he had been conserving his energy, but he could see the fleeting situation well enough. One of the Alliance fleets was getting trapped between this fleet he was attacking and what looked like the main battle-fleet. Another Alliance fleet was attacking this one, but they needed to do more. He needed to draw their attention away.

The initial illusory K-wing squadron was still buzzing around the front of the ship. Another squadron was in-bound. They needed something to draw off the fighters. He closed his eyes, letting the Force guide his actions as he danced through the fire. He crafted an image in his mind- of a fleet. Well, exactly like the task force he'd been deployed in-system with, because it was the same task-force that was sitting at the edge of the system.

He created the image of it dropping out of hyperspace close by and attacking. They were memories of his pulled from other combat missions, and he pushed it out to the minds around him, especially the crew on Destroyer and the enemy pilots. It would be convincing for many- even down to what it looked on sensors. But that was the important part. He didn't need everyone to think it was real. Just enough to be confusing.

 

[Kyrana Gould]

Location: Space, entering orbit.
Allies: [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Vilin"] [member="Naamah Aesham"]
Enemies: [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]

The First Order had been blockading the planet of Kaeshana since the battle with the Alliance began. However, no enemies had moved forward to engage Firemane’s fleet as it moved to take up station.

“Take us in carefully, helm. The First Order will probably not think too kindly of us breaking their blockade. Dispatch some fighters in all directions to detect approach of any enemy ships.”

Blockades of entire planets were extremely complex things. Even a Star Destroyer couldn’t cover a whole continent, so it was not clear to Gould where the First Order had put their attention.

“Prepare for combat, and tell our forces at Dusk that we have arrived, and keep an eye out for any First Order ships.”

Summary:

• Entered orbit over the Citadel of Dusk.
• Preparing for action should a First Order fleet attempt to maintain the blockade.

Spoiler

1 x Barsen’Thor (2900m) (4F, 2B SQ)
1 x Phoenix (Refitted Wyyrlok)(1300m) (5F, 1B SQ)
1 x Gladius (950m) Sarix – Under [member="Vilin"]’s command now
1 x Hunter (800m) Jaeger
2 x Argent (1600m) Glorious, Gallant (5F, 1B SQ x2)
3 x Sentinel (1500m) Defender, Watchman, Resolute (3I SQ x3)
1 x Warden Interdictor (600m) Constrainer (3F SQ)
8 x Guardians (2400m)
6 x Vigilance (1800m)
4 x Frontier (600m) Adventure, Surprise, Survey (Dispatched to orbit), Brilliance (Dispatched to orbit) (1F SQ x 4)
4 x Fulminatus (500m) F1, F2, F3, F4
Total 2900m GA + 12050m Corporate Fleet

Squadrons Total:
26 Fighter
5 Bomber
9 Interceptor

[SIZE=11pt]

[/SIZE]

 

[Anya Venari]

[member="Naamah Aesham"]
Citadel of Dusk

The Countess watched the Forsaken leader go. She nodded and headed inside the command shelter.
“Countess, the Tempest Cannon is ready.”
“Bring it online,” Selene ordered.

The cannon did not have its full and proper housing yet, and nor did it have the full reactor core to drive it, but it was ready. It would be able to fire – albeit slower than a fully prepared one – at any First Order ship which entered orbit over Dusk.

With the theatre shield active and the cannon ready, the fortress on the west of Kaeshana was practically impervious to bombardment. If the battle went poorly at Santaissa – and it did not seem to be doing so – the refugees could be loaded and evacuated under the shields and guns of this protection.

Turning to Naamah, she nodded. "It did go well. Good idea, let's go and check out the new settlements and get some supplies from the fleet dropped in."
She glanced at the other woman. "Thank you for your assistance," she said.

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Anya Venari"]
Citadel of Dusk


Thusly, the Tempest Cannon came online. It might not be operating at peak capacity, but it would provide a potent defence. After all, it had been designed to take out capital ships. Likewise, a theatre grade Aspis shield was in place and fully activated, along with a defence grid of turrets and flak. Bit by bit, the Citadel of Dusk was reclaiming its former glory.


Naamah gave Selene an enigmatic look. "It felt...good to help. We'll see how the noble and idealistic talk works out in practice. Let's go," she spoke a bit awkwardly. Socialising and small talk were not things she excelled at. A bolt pistol was not far from her grasp, being holstered upon her hip, whilst she'd attached a lightsabre to her belt. This might be a safe zone but you could never be too careful.


So the two departed the command shelter. Now that Gould's fleet had taken up position in orbit, supplies were being ferried from the warships towards the settlements and sanctuaries protected by the fortress. Among those goods were clothes, medical supplies, MREs, toys for children and weapons for the militia.


The pair embarked on a speeder, joining an armoured convoy that made its way towards a temporary settlement, escorted by a mix of Kar'zun and Eldorai soldiers. The trip was short and soon the duo had reached the perimeter of the refugee camp. The local militia looked wary and especially Selene got her share of odd looks, but there was gratitude when the distribution of supplies began. Humanitarian efforts were being carried out by the Church of Ashira and the NJO's Service Corps.

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaEzKRngCyY

Objective: Finish Therapy Command
Location: Imperial-X Star Destroyer Vindicator.
POV: Commodore Carlyle Rausgeber

"Commodore, our dagger escorts are under attack sir." Scanning reported, "They're taking heavy fire, it's overloading their shields. One of their carriers has moved to engage us front on."

Carlyle shot a look down at the Scanning Officer, "Move the daggers away from their range. We'll destroy their fighter capability." Carlyle commanded, "Victory-x destroyers and Empire-class frigates shall sustain fire upon their command cruiser." Carlyle barked, "The Defiant and us shall change targets to their carrier."

"Yes Commodore Rausgeber." Comms replied, before looking at Rausgeber, "Sir, we've just lost a dagger."

"Tell them to disengage, move to the far side of the fleet, they'll screen us for fighters." Carlyle ordered, "Move them, now!" The Commodore looked up and saw the two massive ships, teetering on the precipice of destruction, "I want an order to go out," Carlyle commanded, "We're going to take aboard any Alliance escape pods." Carlyle ordered.

"What?!" The Gunnery Officer asked.
"We're taking them aboard, the enemy may be ruthless, but we will pick them up." Carlyle barked, "Send word to Colonel Heinz, I want troops on board ready for possible internment."

The fleet continued to advance on Cathul's Therapy Command, guns blazing. The Hero Of Coruscant recieved the wrath of two imperial-x star destroyers, while the Excubitor was fired upon by the remainder of the fleet, even as the daggers fell back across the fleet, to Rausgebers starboard. They moved away, opening fire as they moved out of firing range. Towards the rear, the Vindicator-class carriers absorbed most of the punishment given by Alexandra Morrow's fleet, but were taking heavy damage. Crews rushed to stem the flow of damage, as engines spluttered and batteries erupted in flames. It was a bloody sacrifice, but one that needed to be made to secure the rest of the fleet. Carlyle would later think back to the sacrifice of those bold Commander and Captains who performed that duty, and how diligently they performed it.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Objective: Wipe Out Enemy Squadrons.
Location: Space Around The Liberator.
POV: Major Horace Cordern.
Fighters: 10 TIE Defenders, 11 TIE Interceptors, 13 TIE Fighters.

"Hold steady boys, we have them!" Horace barked on comms as they flew through the bombing formation, two of the defenders were cut to pieces by Alliance fighters, but the rest of Drachen squadron began to fire their own missiles at the B-wings, once assured they had proper targets, "Keep loose!" Horace barked, "Keep-" Horace saw an enemy fleet jump out of lightspeed, "Evasive action!" He called.

The TIE Defenders fell into the squadron formation in between the B-wings, trying to ensure the incoming fleet would blast their own ships rather than have outright free attacks on the squadron. Despite the closed formation, the TIE's still took shots at the B-Wings, sticking on their rear. The comms channels of the TIE's were going wild. Screams of evasive action and questions of what to do were clogging the comms, until Valkyrie Three piped up.

"Shut up, the lot of you!" The pilot snapped, "Look at your scanning, there's nothing there!"

"She's right!" Drachen Four said, "Move in, reform, and attack!" The Valkyries and Drachen squadrons continued for harrass the B and D wings while below them, the Fury and Vixen squadrons tried their best to follow the Rogues. When the Rogues attempted to perform their daring attack on the TIE's, rears, two TIE's were destroyed by missiles, and another three by other pilots. But the Alliance forgot that these TIE's had back, in the form of rear gunners.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Objective: Destroy Therapy Command.
Location: Victory-X Star Destroyer Liberator.
POV: Commander Hector Kane.

The Liberator was the second most rear victory-x, followed the lead of the Defiant. A dagger-class corvette passed over the bow of the destroyer, Commander Kane was knocked as the bridge was hit by the first run of the bombers, "How are our bridge deflectors!?" The commander asked, turning to his crew.

"Still online sir, but another run like that, and we're done!" The Shields Officer warned.

"Kark!" Kaine bellowed, "Continue to-" The officer was struck by a bizarre vision, one of enemy fighters engaging his fleet. An entire fleet coming out on their starboard. "Turn ship, we'll engage the enemy head on!" Commander Kane roared.
"Aye aye sir!" The Helmsman replied.

"Belay that!" A voice called.

The Commander turned, and looked at the crew pit. "Who said that?!"

"Commander, it's a trick!" The voice replied, it was the Scanning officer.

"Can't you see it?!" Kane asked, "The enemy, they're, they're right there!"

The Scanning officer shook his head, "Sir, there's nothing on our scopes, it's a trick." The officer reported, "There's nothing there."

Kane shook his head, "Are we taking any damage?"

"None sir, bar the bombers." The Chief Engineer offered.

"Kark, continue attack." Hector barked, "We're not going to let some trick fool us." He paused, "Alter our course, get that dagger class corvette to move to our rear, destroy these fighters."

[member="Roth Tillian"] | [member="Kyrana Gould"] | [member="Kurt Meyer"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Vilin"] | @Asmus James | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Alexandra Morrow"]