Invasion Double Tap | TSC Invasion of COV-held Abregado-rae

[Romul Saxon]

W A R M A S T E R
Safeport, Abregado-Rae​

Stormborn Allies: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Careena Fett | Zavar Kelborn | Vrirrig Awaud | Korar Murrak | Braze | He-Who-Walks-Between | Tytos Saxon | Gel Karn
Mandalorian Allies: Feydrik Munin

Abregado-Rae burned. There had been a prelude to the Sith's attack, and then the first act had seen firestorms and plague ravage the cities of Abregado-Rae as the Sith's merciless war machine descended upon the world. The ritual ships landing with burning victims had been the first sign that they were under attack. The Mandalorians were not unprepared, though above in orbit and below in the cities and epicenters of battle, they were vastly outgunned.

Romul Saxon stood aboard the command center of the Gra'tua Dral. The Clan Saxon flagship, veteran of Humbarine, sat anchored deep below the surface. The safeport had been hard to construct so quickly, but Romul had given it the utmost priority since the Sith had first probed them on Abregado-Rae. Romul's meeting with the Governor had been fraught with tension, but at Saxon's offering of a larger defensive presence, the Governor had acquiesced to the Mandalorian's demands to use the world as a staging ground. How prescient had the Governor been, now that the Sith had come to exact their vengeance?

The blue light of the holotable's tactical display of Abregado-Rae's population centers illuminated deep lines and bright scars that crossed the Warmaster's face. His forces were a hundred kilometers from the outskirts of the fighting's epicenter; the safeport had been carved deep into a pre-existing ravine of the Gilt Gushers, utilizing the archeology of the canyon to save days of valuable time. A canopy had been thrown up over the sky that hid the structure from orbital view, while sensor shrouds masked otherwise telltale signals that would give away their position. Beneath, there was not much to the structure; only berths for the ships anchored beneath. The Saxon warfleet, grounded. Romul had evacuated a vast majority of Gado natives to transports that now awaited his signal in the bowels of the port; many chose to flee, but many more had chosen to fight for their home. Romul would not begrudge them that right. Arming them the best he could, they dwarfed the Saxon commandos and other assembled Mandalorian forces.

Their attack would be glorious. But not now. Not yet. Romul waited and studied the Sith's tactics and deployment to learn what they would do, thinking they had the upper hand. Monitoring the unfolding battle would provide them with the opportune time to reveal their hand. Humbarine had not been a defeat, but a lesson. The vode who had sacrificed themselves there would today have their vengeance. The Gados who watched their planet burn would reclaim their world from the Sith's hand.

"Hammer-hand," Romul boomed, his voice transmitted across light-years through encrypted tightbeam communications. "The defenders report a spreading parasitic plague. All data is being forwarded live across the fleet's battlenet." These parasites were reportedly resistant to fire, the go-to typical Mandalorian crowd-control solution. The Iron Covenant would need to devise a response, and they had little time to do it. "Our comms link is secure and stable. Communicate when necessary; otherwise, begin final preparations. I will rally the soldiers here. Our hour grows near." The Warmaster left the planning room, the holotable still active. He made for the hangar, where the assembled would hear him.

 

[Casimir Thorne]

WEARING: xxx | WEAPON: x | x | ALLIES: Efret Farr ENEMIES: Vreegan Fett​

The trail had led them dangerously close to one of the drop sites.

Casimir could see the pyres through the smoke, their flames rising above the broken landscape while Covenant dropships and ritual machinery occupied the ground around them. Captives had been gathered in numbers that made their purpose readily apparent, though it was what moved between the fires that held the Echani's attention.

Flesh.

Living, spreading flesh.

"Hmmm."

Efret's search for the missing Sith artifacts had taken them through the smuggling networks of Abregado-Rae and, eventually, here. The Covenant assault had complicated matters considerably. Mandalorians and their allies were already contesting the Sith advance, and the skies above the drop site belonged to anything fast enough or heavily armed enough to survive them.

Casimir remained low behind a shattered section of duracrete, watching the activity ahead.

He had seen enough Sith creations to know better than to assume something was safe simply because another Sith had made it. Whatever had been unleashed here seemed particularly determined to prove the wisdom of that lesson.

Something shifted near the edge of the infected ground. Casimir watched the biomass contract around what might once have been a body, drawing it deeper until distinguishing one from the other became impossible.

His nose wrinkled.

The Dark Side saturated the place, but beneath it was something more immediate. Hunger. The organism possessed none of the restraint that might have made proximity to it comfortable, and Casimir had no intention of discovering whether it understood allegiance.

Unfortunately, the trail continued toward it.

Amber eyes settled on Efret.

Casimir lifted two fingers toward his own eyes before directing them toward the infected ground. His wrist turned, fingers closing sharply before his hand swept toward the route ahead. The movements were small and economical, woven together with the subtle shift of his shoulders and the angle of his body.

Watch the ground. Stay close. We continue.

It was a language the two of them had built together, born from necessity and refined until movement could carry meaning as naturally as speech. Casimir did not need sound to make himself understood by Efret, and amid the chaos surrounding the drop site, there was something almost advantageous about that.

His hand dropped toward his saber as he studied the path before them. Then two fingers brushed lightly against Efret's arm.

Together.

Casimir moved his attention back toward the smoke and waited.

 

[The Arkanian]

X

GODKILLER​

THE ARKANIAN
TAG: Carduul Akahl | Mercy | Srina Talon
GEAR:
Mandalorian Armor + Modular Wrist Attachments (Flamethrower, Whipcord, Dart Launcher, Wrist Rocket), Jetpack (with big missile), Stouker concussion rifle + 3 power cells, Holdout Disruptor Pistol (boot), Dissuader Pistol + 2 mags (hip), Crushgaunts, Hifold Sensory Package, Cortosis Dagger (chest), 'Nades, More 'Nades, Even More 'Nades (bandolier), Raw Cortosis Dust in a Lil' Baggie (belt), 2 vials of Trihexalon (belt), aerosol canister of Droid bio-assault spray (belt), Voidstone good luck rock on a necklace.

Unit: Haran's Hounds

Named NPC Companions:
Spike and Dozer (Sukkot Force Hounds)

"Evacuate?"

The Arkanian finished smoking his cigarra and flicked the butt into the street. Beside him, his two Force Hounds panted, waiting for a command. The rest of Haran's Hounds - the elite Mandalorian Sith Slaying unit - stood in hasty fighting positions, holding steady.

"And why the hells would we do that?"

The spaceport official in front of him was sweating profusely, "But Alor'ad Haran, there's so many of them. If we don't we'll be trapped here."

The Mandalorian Supercommando grinned diabolically and hefted his bone-white, red-striped helmet. "That's where you're wrong, boyo. We're not trapped here with them."

The helmet slid snugly over his head and spaceport official stared at his reflection in the black, emotionless T-visor.

"They're trapped here with us." ​

It collided outward, buckling the roadway, and smashed through the first line of fortifications. Stone and dirt erupted around them, the shockwave rolling outward while Mercy remained hunched at the epicenter. The Warform curled instinctively around the pale woman that she held against her chest, and for several seconds, there was nothing but dust.

Mercy rose up from the Mercy-made crater, enormous, and glanced down at the Sith Empress that had twined two pale arms around her neck out of necessity. She had just punched a devastating hole in Abregado-rae, but it was with almost absurd care that she set her battle-sister back on her feet. The titan brushed a piece of invisible debris from the woman’s shoulder, sensing her irritation. Her grin never faltered, even in the Warform.

Slowly, the Arkanian's helmet turned in the direction of the meteorite impact.

"Well... what do you know..." Through the comms line he asked, "Alor Akahl, you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Turning to the rest of his squad, Haran called out, "HOUNDS! Get ready... It's time to hunt."

​

 

[He-Who-Walks-Between]

Nowhere...​

Far away. So far away.

Yet seated in his chamber, aboard his Kandosii-class vessel, the Storm Seer could feel it. All these threads of possibilities spidering out from the conflict, like so many fractured lines.

Like light through a diamond.

The Aing-Tii knew this. It was why they spoke of rainbows when he was with them.

Not light.

Not dark.

A kaleidoscope of possibilities, rebounding through time.

"The Path Drive is ready, shall we launch, Alor?"

"N̛̥͚͗o̡̢̭̭̝̯͒̽̐͑̕" ​

His voice came out a harsh and dissonant whisper through the vocoder of his helm and echoed in the room as well as the Force. Grating. Nails upon a chalkboard.

"Iͣͪt̼̗͂̌͞ iͮs̐́̚͟ͅ n͇̦̜̜ͮ͂ͮ͆͟ọ́ͧ̾̈͟t̏ͣ̉ ẙ̬̣e͐t̗̠̖͎̍̐̓ t̸̬h̡̜̮̓ͥ̈e̷̿̒ͪ aͭ̑̅̂͢͠p̴̵̫̠̃͂̇p͇̞͉̳ͪͫͭ̉o̧͍̲͙̼̥̦̲̅̏ͮi̪͋̎̔ͧͦ̃̾̏͝ṇ̡͑͜ț̱̫́̀e̥̥͞d̀̔̉̇ t̯̋̌̏͜ị̢̖̘͉͙̟ͥ͘m̸̘͎͚̒ͧ̐ͯͧḛ̞"
​

He sat amidst the weave of possibilities, a spider with his web, waiting for the string to be plucked. For the chord of destiny to play out as foreseen.

For the Storm to be Born.

Tytos Saxon Gel Karn

 

[Kamon Hourn]

---

​

LOCATION: ABREGADO-RAE
TAG:
ALLIES: Siv Dragr
OPPS: Arris Windrun | Quinn Varanin​

​

KAMON HOURN
THEME​

‘Know thy enemy.’

T’was among the first lessons any warrior of worth would learn early, and well; for if one did not know their enemy, then ignorance would be their undoing. Even still, as Kamon’s optics tightened on the scene unfolding at the pyres from his perch a few hundred yards away - every inch of him wanted to charge in jetpack ablaze to render aid to his brothers.

‘What kind of monster set living men ablaze in the name of religion?’ Kamon never understood the blind, feral bloodlust that overtook the Sith and their ilk - even during his days as a misguided youth fighting for Khamul Kryze. He drew a line then, that he wouldn’t serve monsters. Now, these same monsters threw themselves before him and his brothers.

But he had to focus. He couldn’t allow their profane sport distract him from the task at hand. He was a squad commander now of a unit of Ji’yr Rekr commandos - warriors all, honed into a razor-sharpened tip meant for situations like this. His eyes scanned the carnage unfolding at the pyre, from the twisted creatures that burst from the corpses of civilians and warriors both - to a red undergrowth spreading throughout the streets as unnatural clouds emanated from them.

He zoomed in on the growth as it spread, as well as some of his brothers’ efforts to press their attack and how it affected it. Naturally, the men and women at the front were more focused on the Sith guarding the pyres, than the side effects of the phenomena around them. But as one such warrior set about the enemy with a flamethrower alongside companions who laid out a storm of blaster fire - Kamon noticed something. As the smoke and flames began to dissipate, the growth... spread.

“Shabla Osik!” He said in disbelief. This was about to be a long karkin day.

"Hourn, what's your location?"

Siv’s voice bled through the comm frequency. Kamon pressed the comm button down with his chin. “Observation post cresh, over. About to deploy, but trying to get a handle on...all of this.” came the response. Several rapid action teams had been deployed in observational, overwatch posts throughout the area. Kamon’s position just so happened to be within sight of the action. His mind already began racing for a solution.

"These damned things get harder and harder to kill. You got any ideas? Over."

Kamon hesitated, trying to think of something - when an idea dawned on him. “You got a cryo weapon? Or some slug throwers?” Realization began to dawn on him. He turned to a member of his squad. “Get someone to the nearest militia armoury and fire brigade station. We need to pickup some toys.”

​

 

[Srina Talon]

OBJECTIVE: 2 [Spaceport]
LOCATION: [Abregado-rae: From Sky to Road]
SITH ALLIES: Mercy - Grace - Xan Atropus - Veyla Tass - Kaelyr - Leontis Antalis - Astra Sadow
SITH ENEMIES: Carduul Akahl | The Arkanian

There were moments in life where foresight became less of an advantage and more of an exercise in determining exactly how much nonsense she was willing to tolerate.

This was rapidly becoming one of them.

Hawkish eyes lingered on the emerging battlefield through the open hatch of the assault ship while Abregado-rae burned beneath them. At this altitude, the destruction became almost beautiful because it could be felt in the abstract. Flashing colors against blues and greens, with great wounds of orange and red starting to emerge while artillery stitched momentary stars in the smoke. She could sense the weave of Madrona A’Mia and the Bloody Bonnet that had come to play, feathering across her mind like colorful death. The spaceport remained visible beyond it all, bright with movement, while vessels climbed desperately toward a sky full of warships.

Some might make it past the blockade. Others…

They were already dead.

Srina could feel the terror below even through the thunderous vibration of heavy weapons going off. Hundreds of tiny little disturbances pressed against the edges of her awareness, indistinct, but impossible to ignore. Panic had a particular shape when enough sentient minds experienced it at once. It became a form of psychic backlash, atmospheric, and for one who could turn negative energy into power?

It was food.

The people of Abregado-rae had turned their backs on history that witnessed them join the Sith. That had seen them fight against the Republic and the Mandalorians until the disappearance of Darth Malak. They knew what it would cost them when they reached out for their beskar-clad protectors, knew the totality of war her people would wage. This was a reckoning of their own creation, damnation, by their own hands.

“Do you feel it, sestra?”

Her attention shifted from Abregado-rae and settled on the Core Empress. Of course she did. The pale woman remained motionless while her battle-sister practically vibrated with eagerness, save for the faint rise of one elegant eyebrow. Mercy was smiling in that way that generally preceded something destructive or irresponsible. Probably, both.

“I am so fucking excited… this is going to be great.”

It was genocide.

The thought was singular and didn’t hold any condemnation, but it kept her grounded in truth. Srina had never required cruelty to be dressed prettily before she could accept it. Nor did she pretend that conquest became a righteous adventure when it was all just the result of a series of choices. Abregado-rae had chosen its allies, Mercy had chosen her path, and Srina had chosen Mercy. That was all, nothing more to consider.

The Echani turned her attention toward Grace when Mercy opened the hatch all the way, seemingly unconcerned by the atmosphere screaming past them. Mercy looked at her and the words…Didn’t really register. Eyes of molten gold narrowed, and she raised a hand with denial on her lips, but the giantess hardly noticed.

A powerful arm caught her, and then the floor was just…Gone.

Cold struck first, then pressure, and then the violent understanding that there was very little breathable air where Mercy had elected to put her. The nano-tech armor hidden in a bracer on her wrist reacted, and her onyx traveling dress disappeared beneath a liquid shimmer of silver and black. Nanites poured across pale skin in overlapping scales, swallowing silk, until she was sealed with a rebreathe covering her mouth and nose.

Air returned—and with it?

The sounds of Mercy laughing…To which she decided that if the fall didn’t kill the red-haired woman, Srina might. It was perhaps fortunate that the half-firrerreon remained focused on their descent because if looks alone could kill, sestra or not, the larger woman would have had much worse things to worry about than the Mandalorians. The change in Mercy’s body momentarily cancelled out her irritation, and Srina found herself secured against something increasingly monstrous. Something she had helped create…Of course, it was terrifying.

The Blackwall Empress remained eerily calm while in freefall. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, but her eyes merely smoldered, burning gold against the darkened framing of her armor while white hair streamed above them like something drowned.

”Hold on, sestra.”

<<You are absolutely insufferable.>>

The thought pressed swiftly from her mind as the giantess folded her Warform around Srina and the ground became everything. She felt the Force bend, and her eyes closed as they made landfall. The world beneath them broke. Every second that passed became a show of widening violence, and at the center, Srina felt almost none of it.

The stillness was a mirage as she was lowered carefully to the ruined road. Armored boots touched broken rocks, and the slender creature regained her balance as if she had merely stepped down from a transport. Her eyes drifted down to where Mercy knocked a little dust off her shoulder before pivoting back to the Lord of the Sith Covenant.

Her expression remained serene, empty, of all things.

C R A C K​

The slap came without warning while silver-black nanites swarmed and reinforced every delicate bone in her hand, sparing them from shattering. The scales of her armor peeled back in shimmering waves until pale skin emerged from beneath it. Her rebreather dissolved last, just enough to see her face in full. When her voice came, it was low but soft enough that it felt barely there, light, and ethereal. “You just threw me out of a ship.”

Her hand rose as if to strike again, though this time, her fingers merely settled against the skin and bone she had struck. She couldn’t stay angry with Mercy for long, and now was not the time. She stepped closer, and her head lowered just slightly. “Do that again, sestra…And I will punish you with everything you hate.”

The thumb of her right hand passed once over the larger woman's cheek before pulling away. As if none of it had happened and instead turned her sights on the spaceport that would likely start shelling their location as soon as they had target lock. Probably, before.

They had work to do.

Spoiler: Equpiment

Armour Saber Ring Ring Terentatek Body Gloves HG-54 "The Vora" Class Hand Cannon Holding Aces Popper Echo Implant NPC Units (On Standby) Drake "Vaelcryx" (On Standby)

 

[Grace]

Tags: Srina Talon Mercy

Grace could feel it, the fear and chaos that roiled beneath them, a nightmare made real crept across the surface of Abregado-rae and she hungered for it, to be among it, and watch it unfold first hand. Her crimson gaze slid to Mercy, lips curling in a smirk at the way she was practically vibrating with excitement.

Then her gaze slid backward, to the one they called Empress Behind the Wall. Where Mercy was energy and chaos, she was still and calm, unreadable, almost. Grace wondered what it would take to shatter the illusion, what pressure points might break the woman carved of marble. Molten gold eyes shifted her way and Grace’s smirk widened.

Before she could give it much more thought Mercy kicked the door open and the wind threatened to pull all of them out, Grace anchored herself, the leather of her skirt whipping wildly about her legs as she let out an excited giggle at the madness in Mercy’s eyes, watching her snatch the marble woman from her feet and jump.

Grace let go of her anchor and stepped after them. Wind stole the breath from her lungs as she tumbled for a few terrifying moments before gentle nudges in the force corrected her course and she streaked in wake of the colossal being, cackling her way down through the artillery fire. It was music to Grace’s ears.

She slowed her descent far sooner, careful not to get caught in the explosion of the ground around Mercy, landing lightly behind Srina as her hand snapped across Mercy’s face, drawing another giggle from her as she moved forward to Srina, hand trailing across the small of her back, nails tapping lightly along her armour.

The lethan did not care about personal space, and she was very much in Srina’s when she settled neatly beside the Empress Behind the Wall.

“I knew there was some fire beneath the ice. ” she purred. “I like her.” Her touch lingered, trailing along Srina’s waist as she moved away closer to Mercy.

Mercy who was encased in what could only be described as bone, Grace’s attention shifted, hands running along the living armour she had created, her steps taking her in a small circle around the behemoth of a woman as she inspected this new form.

“Beautiful.”

​

​

 

[Chomba Womba]

Objective: 2 - Chomba's big day out shopping!

"Oh boy! Chomba gonna get new hydrospanner, new hyperdrive, ooooo, maybe Chomba get something to fix the leaky fuel!" Chomba croaked excitedly with a jump in the air. The man was overly pleased to have arrived on such a big industrial world. Plenty of things to get and hopefully ensure that his ship was more respectable. The dock officer had mocked Chomba when he abruptly landed, calling poor Chomba's ship the worst looking ship that he had ever seen. Chomba was devastated, took a full couple of minutes for the poor Chomba to recover his mood. However, he made sure to be excited once again to enjoy the beauty that this new world had for him.

Walking down the streets, Chomba was confused, everyone seemed upset, panicked or running around like crazed maniacs. Chomba wondered if there was some festival going on? "Ooooo Chomba love festivals! Drinking, partying, ooooo Chomba could sing! Everyone loves Chomba singing! They constantly beg Chomba to stop since Chomba ruins any singing competition!" Chomba started skedaddling down the streets, searching for where this festival might be. Chomba was getting deeper into the city and wondered why people were running more towards the docks. Did he miss the festival as he pushed forward?

Chomba did get turned around a lot so he could have missed it, Chomba thought to himself. "Dang it. Chomba needs to turn around and follow everyone else, maybe Chomba ask someone where festival is?"

A human looked down to Chomba and held a face of full terror and utter confusion, "festival?! There's no festival! The Sith are here! They are here and killing us all! THERE'S A DEADLY PLAGUE!" Utter fear was being expressed in only the most truest of ways.

Chomba tilted his head a little, attempting to understand what was being said. Sith. Killing. Plague. Chomba blinked then let out a horrified cry as he fell backwards scrambling away from the human. "NOOOOOO! CHOMBA DON'T WANNA DIE! CHOMBA JUST WANT SINGING FESTIVAL. OR HYDROSPANNER. OR HYPERDRIVE. OR SOMETHING TO FIX LEAKY FUEL! CHOMBA NOT READY TO DIE! NOOOOOOO!" Chomba leaped to his feet and hard scrambled away to the docks. His limbs moving in awkward spinning movements that looked like it would be super fast but he was not moving any faster than the other civilians around him.

However, he was the loudest out of them. "CHOMBA NO DIE! CHOMBA NEED HIS SHIP! CHOMBA LEAVING PLAGUE WORLD! CHOMBA JUST WANTED TO SING! CHOMBA NOT FIGHTING SITH! CHOMBA NOT A FIGHTER!"