Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!
Pak looked back over at the exterior camera as he watched Jin Taeyang
mounted atop the Oggdo they had captured not too long ago for the Black Sun, silently mouthing to himself what the kark. He felt a pit form in his stomach, as if his gut was twisting and wrenching as he watched his crazy companion dismount from their ship aboard the giant man-eating toad. They were supposed to just be here to evac wounded soldiers, not get themselves thrown into the middle of the mess that was the middle of the battlefield, but apparently something was lost in translation as his eccentric counterpart landed amidst the snow to help the other Lightsworn on the battlefield.
"Kark this..." Pak cursed as he pulled their ship around, dropping altitude as he swung around with a rapid 180, whorls of snow kicking up as the engines blasted along the ground. Screw the mission, the only thing that mattered was making sure Jin stayed alive. Losing the Oggdo would sting, but he'd take losing credits over his partner in crime. He brought himself around as he slowed the ship's velocity down, turning to look down at the astromech, "R-4T take the wheel, keep the ship close and be ready to pick us up. I've got to go and make sure his dumbass doesn't get killed out there..." R-4T squeaked as they rolled alongside Pak's foot, a small section of the console opening up to reveal a small BB unit-sized slot for him to plug into and take control of the ship.
The steering handles seemed to twist in Pak's grip as he let go, the droid having taken the controls of the ship as he stood up and went to the cargo hold, hands reaching left and right as he grabbed a variety of gear on the way, grabbing a rifle and a bandolier of detonators last as he slung them both over his shoulders. The cargo hold was frigid as Pak made his way to the ramp, seeing the rush of the ground below him as their ship cruised close to the surface. He cursed quietly to himself, knowing full well this was going to sting like hell, but on the bright side it was snow and not solid earth.
He clenched his jaw and grit his teeth as he grabbed hold of the hydraulic, waiting for the ship to lower itself to an acceptable height before dropping down. His feet hit the ground as he let his body roll with the momentum, feeling the impacted snow cushion his fall as their ship blasted off and wheeled back around towards friendlier airspace. Pak unslung the rifle, wrapping the sling around one hand as he shouldered and took aim, picking off stormtroopers from a distance to provide cover fire while moving in short sprints to get closer to Jin, moving and firing with a practiced method that was expected of the ex-GADF marine. Some things never changed. He barked into his comms in annoyance,
"If the Imps don't kill you, I swear to God I will Tae! You hear me?"
"They need to add highly observant to your listings." Fett dryly remarked, retrieving a small holodisplay neatly settling into his palm. It flashed a blue, shimmering holographic display of Feridade and the ten-thousand credit reward reading beneath, all alongside the insignia of Darth Solipsis' Galactic Empire.
It was not all that much, considering the risk. But sometimes you completed a job to have it marked against your name.
He exchanged the device for a pair of binders, tossing them to the Echani. "You're wanted alive."
The Spear III descended further, bright lights illuminating the places the flaming wreckage did not touch. The ramp lowered and the blast door opened, with the bounty hunter flicking the barrel of his lazily carried blaster towards the ship.
Soldiers of the Alliance and Empire would no doubt begin rushing here soon enough. Distant onlookers cowed from fear, equal parts helpless and thankful it was not them.
Objective: 1 Location: SKY ABOVE BATTLEFIELD Tags: Open l Thomas Barran
l GE Forces
Artam received the targeting data.
Droids.
Droids with a key weakness, as the messages came through. He took a deep breath, pulling a hard G turn in the gunship.
It was heavy on his lungs, the sharp turn. But it felt right. Felt good. He was above them- his axis of approach on a deadly attack angle to the Alliance defenders, the droids. Targeting solutions provided by ground troops scrolled across his screen.
Click-click.
It wasn’t hard to kill like this. It was only hard to get there.
His weapon systems engaged just at the right moment- and the Alliance defenders fell prey to the gun run. Droid defenders went sailing and sputtering, ion bombs and cannon fire ripping them to shreds. Guided rockets, honed into turrets and key defenses. The Alliance forces were rocketed, pummeled once more. And ever more still the encroaching Empire marched forward, closer to their target and objective.
Long live the Empire, thought Artam as he used the nose cannon to strafe roughly a squads worth of Alliance troops to oblivion.
CT-312’s eyes surveyed the battlefield as the forces acted on Commander Vaal’s orders. Brow arching behind the visor. A sudden mass of Imperial soldiers collapsed. Lifeless, all at once. It echoed what she had witnessed in the Kaggath tournament. When Darth Virelia drained the crowd like it was nothing. Then a few moments later, the dead rose again. Friend and foe alike. All of this was… Unexpected. CT-312 kept her rifle forward, but her real focus remained on the Jedi. He answered her earlier question, of the goal of this ‘ritual’. Paying attention to Master Dynas’s and the Commanders conversation.
"Through this ritual, I seize the threads of every machine on this field. When it is finished, they will answer to me. And through me, to the Alliance. You must have felt it within your own body, soldier."
Giving a curt nod. Suspicions confirmed. This ritual wasn’t just local. It was network wide. Drawing every unit, node, machine across the field. Each phase the influence grew stronger. CT-312’s HUD logged the observation. Then came the Commander’s question. Sharp and direct.
CT-312 inclined her helmet slightly. “Ashe. That is correct Commander.” Voice steady through the modulator. “I agree with Master Dynas. If it is necessary…. then it’s necessary.” inside the Scout thought of how simple it was for Force Users to twist powers into annihilation. But, war was war. Necessary. At the end of the day, it was perspective. To one side, righteous. To the other, monstrous. To CT-312, it was what got the job done. But as Ashe? Her tone, professional and short. “I don’t believe anyone expected anything of this caliber, Commander. With respect, I’m unfamiliar with Alliance Policy in warfare. But if the enemy is willing to surrender or negotiate, wouldn’t that be the best outcome?” Ashe watched as the Commander’s gaze shifted elsewhere. Overhearing her commands to the rear guard, something caught her attention.
Ashe used the moment to glance back to Master Dynas. His meditating form hovered above the snow. Heat rolling from his chassis. The snow and ice hissed into vapors around him. His metal body began to rattle with strain.
Ashe watched as his left shoulder exploded. Torn away in a jet of fire and sparking wire. Master Dynas’s arm launched free. Crashing into the snow. Blinking once. Unexpected. Pivoting sharply to the Commander, dismissing herself. “Commander.” Ashe snapped a salute. Sprinting forward, scooping up snow in her gauntlets. “Forgive the intrusion Master Dynas.” Shoving it into the burning joint to kill the fire. Then without hesitation, CT-312 broke off to where the severed arm had landed. Covering the object with snow to douse the sparks and flames.
A thought occurred. Recalling seeing another bounty about a body part. Pulling up the bounty list on her HUD to quickly confirm. Eyes scanning.‘There it is.’
<:// BOUNTY NOTICE //:>
<:// Bounty Hunter ID: CT-312 //:>
<:// Location: Arkania //:>
<:// Client:Jerec Asyr
//:>
<:// Target: Dynamis “Dynas” Ultra //:>
<:// A hand or eye of a Jedi Master //:>
What were the odds?… It was too good of an opportunity to pass up. CT-312’s visor flicked left and right. Spotting a canvas ammo cache bag. Everyone was distracted with the war or Master Dynas’s glowing ritual. Perfect. Grabbing the mechanical severed arm, she made her way to the bag. Sliding into the bottom and strapping it onto her back. ‘Hope the client doesn't mind a whole arm.’
As CT-312 made her way back to Master Dynas, his words rang out.
Her HUD flared to life. Words caught CT-312’s attention. Recording this phase in the ritual. Head swiveling around, capturing the interaction around. Her armor and weapon felt like an extension of her nervous system.
[ SYSTEM SYNC — 0.00 Lag ] [ RESPONSE TIME — INSTANT ] [ TARGETING SOLUTION — AUTO-PREDICTIVE ]
The GADF droids and artillery seemed alive. Turrets swiveled with uncanny precision. Canons aligned and fired in unison. It was as if one pilot controlled them all. The Taozin amulet kept Master Dynas’s ritual from pressing at her mind. For a brief moment, CT-312’s visor flickered. Images not her own, but fragments of Master Dynas’s neural network bleed through. What he saw was being displayed in her HUD. Lattices of machines, millions of nodes, connected. An immense sphere of lines of code and algorithms, forming and dissolving. Rewriting itself. The scout blinked it away. Controlling her breathing once more.
[ UNAUTHORIZED SYNC ATTEMPT — BLOCKED ]
It seemed that Master Dynas brought alignment to machines in the battlefield. Whenever someone claimed control of everything, there was always a cost. CT-312 could see with just how his arm exploded off. His current droid body couldn’t fully handle the ritual without repercussions.
Sharad grunted as his attacks were blocked, he glared intently at Gavin as they clashed. He was forced to stumble backwards against the wall of the trench, the disturbed snow smothering his coat. But no amount of cold was going to be able to temper the man’s rage. However it was the slashes which caught him off guard. Sharad attempted to rush forward, to clutch the pike by the blade end. A crude attempt to stop the attack. But then he felt it, a sharp pain in his gut.
Dhavale’s entrenching tool clattered to the ground. He couldn’t feel them. Sharad gagged, and began to shake. He felt, so cold in this moment. The heat of his anger, still burning inside. The soldier looked down and saw it. The pike, it was deep inside. Sharad gulped, and fell back toward the wall. He suddenly felt very thirsty, and weak. One of Runtur’s errant slashes had eagerly pierced Sharad’s gullet, and the pikes blade had scraped against the young soldiers spine. Nerves were severed, and Dhavale’s legs gave out with no electrons surging toward them.
Sharad collapsed into a heap. His body was slumped against the trench wall, the air expelled from his lungs condensing in the air like puffs of smoke. The sight Reminded him of the cigarettes he and the squad shared on those rainy nights on Prefsbelt IV. He just needed a minute. One minute and he’d be back on his feet. Ready to kick this bastard…. But was he a bastard?
PFC Dhavale looked up at his assailant with a sort of placid expression, he knew he would join his squad. His eyes then gazed up to the battle torn sky as his breaths become slower and more laboured. He thought of the life his parents wanted for him. How he’d been pawned off to Carlyle Rausgeber’s remnant. One more minute. Just a few seconds. Sharad reached to clamber up, but flailed and grunted. He was feeling weaker. Fainter.
Instinct and basic training kicked in, and Sharad pressed his gloved hands to the wound. He gave a pained expression, and accordingly grunted. His viscera mixed with that of Corporal Marr’s and he groaned. While his body went into autopilot, Sharad’s mind wandered to Pa’Desh. His birthplace. The memories were distant now. He remembered the food. The humidity. But the warmth of his family.. He was but four when his parents gave him up. Sharad never knew their names. But he remembered the songs they’d sing, even if he couldn’t understand the words properly. Even now, he couldn't remember his mothertongue. Just vague notions. Dhavale's brow furrowed as he tried to centre his thoughts on family. He knew he had two brothers. But they were older. Kai-eel was one of them. Or was it Kali?
The pain slowly stopped aching. The cold for the first time ever felt serene, and Sharad’s eyes closed. His hands slackened off the pressure. He’d be fine. He just needed a rest. A quick minutes rest and he’d be up and ready again. He just… just needed a min….
The satisfaction of her outcry couldn't stave away the dread as he regained consciousness. He couldn't see. There was snow tightly packed against his face. He has no notion of which way was up.
Panic gripped his core. Jacen had always been brave. He had stood his ground and fought at least two Dark Lords of the Sith in his life. Dying of suffocation, buried alive, that struck some primal nerve.
The Force wasn't there to aid him. Damned grenade. Jacen ignored the pain and waited for his senses to right themselves.
That was is up
He struggled and stretched. He strained against the weight of snow. Rocks brushed against him. It turned out that he wasn't under deep snow at all. He had barely been beneath the surface.
Relief was short lived. He looked up at the hunter down the length of a paddle beamer.
It was amusing, the way this conversation was going. Dayna had gone off to do what she was meant to do, negotiate with the Alliance, and he’d remained to listen to the finality of the conversation between the Senate and the adherents of Solipsis. He was glad he did, because he found it highly entertaining.
On one hand, the Alliance was being attacked repeatedly by these Solipsis followers, and had dealt with them even in their previous Dark Empire form. They were also at war with the Sith Order. This meant the Alliance was between a rock and a hard place; a cornered dog with its back to the wall. Yet these people thought that meant they would just roll over and offer up their belly. Preposterous line of thinking. You didn’t corner a dog and expect it to beg you for pets. It would rip your hand off if you tried.
Then on the other hand you had these upstarts, if you could call the renamed Dark Empire upstarts. Solipsis had been trying to take over the galaxy for years. Trying, and failing. But he wins a single battle against the depleted Alliance and thinks it gives him the edge to walk into their home and tell them they will capitulate or face war, when they’re already at war? Unserious. Unserious and politically suicidal. Nobody would ever take them serious again after this, politically. They’d lost all ability to negotiate with anyone with this one action. And when the Alliance was no longer caught off guard, they’d go looking for help, or they’d be destroyed.
Of course he knew why they did it. They were now going to try to frame the Alliance in a negative light for not seeking a peaceful option when one was offered to them. They were going to frame themselves as the good guy and the Alliance as compromising its morals in order to seek endless war. And they thought people would listen to it. Some probably would because they would conveniently leave out their list of demands while pointing out that their offer was rejected. A common manipulation tactic.
Shaking his head, he turned towards the exit to the guest pod. The adherents of Solipsis were done so the show was over. He might as well go and see how Dayna was doing with the negotiating. Back to the grind.
Cora flinched, just once, as her tears were brushed away.
"No one should have to endure such abuse," she muttered. In truth, part of her sorrows had come from how much she saw her struggles reflected in Voldran's own. Like how his mother had sold him to Solipsis, Cora's father had sold her into a harrowing political marriage.
The difference was that she'd managed escape. Scarred, but alive.
Her own shackles had been carved not in runes, but in blood ties. The strength of which had kept her small and obedient, believing in the stability of her family, her world, and her duty as a daughter of Ukatis.
Which brought to mind - would Voldran slay his own mother if it bought his freedom? How remarkable that after enduring so much in his long life, he still managed to be kind.
Steam curled and hissed beneath her fingers as the runes flared, Light slowly eating away at the seal. Cora’s jaw worked beneath her skin, clenching as she fought to keep her bones upright from the weight of the strain. She was close, so close to breaking the chains of Darkness that had wound themselves around Voldran's soul and melded into his very being.
In agony, he collapsed. Something snapped, but it wasn't the snap she had been looking for.
Voldran's form dissolved into a haze of despair. The smoke demon had redoubled its strength and lashed out at the meddling Lightbearer.
Exhausted, Cora had neither the strength nor the speed to shore up her own defenses, given how far she'd drawn them down for the attempted cleansing. She froze, eyes flared wide, as the smoke twined around her, seeping into her skin.
The treacherous fog lifted unpleasant memories to the surface. She saw him. The man who'd she'd been gifted to, who'd isolated and tortured her for his own amusement, who'd embodied nearly everything wrong with Ukatian society.
Voldran's sheer will kept the smoke from consuming her entirely. Her hope was beginning to dwindle, but it still flickered like a candlelight in a storm.
All of a sudden that hope turned sour in her mouth; coppery and bitter and-
Cora's body seized. Her next breath came ragged and choked. A heavy ache resonated deep into her chest, and wide eyes slowly looked down to find that the smoke comprising Voldran's hand had solidified into her own flesh.
That soreness blossomed into a sharp, piercing pain. Heat seeped from her chest in thick streams of crimson, staining his pale hand like blood in the snow. By the time she turned her frightened gaze up to him, blood leaked from the corners of her mouth in dribbling lines.
Cora tried to speak, but her words were lost to the blood that filled her lungs. One trembling hand tried to reach for Voldran - in desperation for retaliation or comfort, he would never know. Perhaps she didn’t, either. In one heaving hack, she pitched forward, spat blood onto the stone floor, and collapsed.
Her next breath, gurgling and crackled, came as a death rattle.
Once the Royal had introduced himself, Line quickened her pace to move ahead of him. With a graceful turn, she spun to face him, continuing effortlessly in reverse. With a bit of a curtsy, she bowed her head ever so slightly "It is an honour to make your acquaintance, your Highness." He had shown no signs of being a stickler of etiquette, which meant that the gesture was likely quite unnecessary. Still, when she made it, she did in no way seem to make a mockery out of it.
After she returned to his side, he asked for her name. Blue eyes sailed up to him once more - a few moments went by before she offered a suave introduction "Beren. Line Beren." It was the name of her cover identity, but it would have to do for now.
The two of them soon arrived by his ship. The agent had slowed her pace close to the fire, but moved on once she determined that the droids had it under sufficient control until the actual firefighters would arrive. A fond smile grew on her lips as she spotted the little BD droid. At first, she just raised an arm to offer it a soft wave - but then she saw the lenses of its photoreceptors move. With a quick tilt of her head, she looked to the Jedi to avoid giving it the chance to snap a good, full-profile picture of her.
"Hey!" Although her voice was far from harsh, it was clear that she disapproved of what the droid wanted to do. "We agreed to a tour and a chat, not a photo album. If you treat me to dinner, I might give you my mail." she quipped, the seriousness of her request was combined with a lighthearted jab and a potential offer. Depending on his response, she would either put the firefighter's mask back on, or leave it off.
Right before setting foot on the ramp, the Agent stopped. Her eyes were fixed on the interior of the ship. Poorly masked fear and anxiety filled her eyes. "Okay" she whispered, just for herself. She let out a sigh - her shoulders fell and she nodded as if to encourage herself. "Let's do this" her voice was low, not at all cheery or enthusiastic. With that, she walked up the ramp to board the ship.
Excerpt from Ines Pen-Ar-Lan's Diary said:
[...]
I took the plunge. Of course I did - he didn't give me much of a choice. I can't remember the last time I was as scared as I was when I walked up that ramp. It felt like I was abandoning fellow Imperials who would walk through fire to save me and the mission - and what was I walking to? I have no idea - this guy is hard to read.
This incident will probably be a bit of a wet blanket over my career for the foreseeable future. I guess getting captured by a Jedi is preferable to most alternatives but it still kinda sucks. Big time.
I'm hopeful though. Maybe something can be salvaged from this. He has not tried to access my datapad and he has not tried to force me out of the disguise or anything else that could endanger me or the mission. There's the photo incident, but I'll chalk it up to an honest mistake for now. He has shown enough good faith to warrant that. Anything and everything could still go wrong though, but at least he's left me with a little bit of hope. I'll really have to play nice with him to get out of this one.
And actually, I'm not sure if I mind! All jedi - let's be fair - everyone has flaws, King Caelan included. But for a Jedi, he's not too bad. His BD droid though, Fate. Fate's a menace.
Makko turned the bike over. It was awkward when he had a foot of snow as a platform. A blaster bolt glanced across his head.
He had downed two walkers. The snow troopers inside were not particularly happy about this. Makko fired a shot. It forced the troopers coming from behind him to the group. It alerted the troopers from the walker he'd fired upon to his position.
He swung a leg onto the stolen imperial speeder bike. It thrummed to life and lifted itself out of the snow. The battle raged ahead and even with some manipulation of the odds this was going to get dicey.
That soreness blossomed into a sharp, piercing pain. Heat seeped from her chest in thick streams of crimson, staining his pale hand like blood in the snow. By the time she turned her frightened gaze up to him, blood leaked from the corners of her mouth in dribbling lines.
Makko fell forwards onto the bike. He clutched at his chest as an echo of the pain spread like poisoned tentrils from his heart.
"No..."
He pulled back on a lever and pressed his foot down. The bike shot away as fast as he could push it.
Makko stretched out down their bond but her consciousness was too weak to touch. He let the fear come, let it wash over him. He didn't let it control him.
Makko wove his bike through the legs of an AT-AT and angled the nose of his speederbike towards the mountains.
After making my way down the corridor, I slipped into a room where I could finally begin what I had come to do. Luckily, there was a functioning terminal here, and I had a good hiding place; not that my invisibility wouldn’t have been enough on its own. Then MANIAC could begin the work of downloading the data. I hadn’t asked it to break into anything, just copying was enough. Too much activity, too many files accessed, would only draw suspicion. Especially from the minister, once it reached him.
MANIAC was able to work wirelessly, so I didn’t need to find a place to physically plug into the factory’s network. That made my job much easier.
Of course, I had asked MANIAC to make copies of the files as well, and to send them to the Nite. So most of the operation was spent here, listening to the chatter on the shared comms network while the downloads progressed. After a while, I noticed Tommy had vanished. Checking the HPI network, I pulled up what was happening around Arkania. The satellites and all comms there had gone dark; everything. I had been in the business long enough to know exactly what that meant. Comms had been shut down on the planet. The only question was: by which side? That, however, I could not yet tell. It would have required digging deeper.
So, the cursed downloads were going smoothly enough; and oh, how I longed to step outside and kill a few people. The Jedi were my greatest enemies, though I had little quarrel with most others. It seemed this mission would turn out rather dull - beyond securing the data - until MANIAC flagged an anomaly not far from my position. According to its readings, a Galactic Empire soldier or agent was in trouble. Sensor data showed major energy fluctuations there; enough to interfere even with the data transfer.
That was something I needed to see for myself. I rose from where I had been perched on a crate and moved towards the source of the disturbance. Entering the room, I spotted someone inside. I caught the end of a transmission; she was saying she couldn’t see. At once, MANIAC streamed me the intel. She was one of ours, ISB. The profile flashed before me.
My first instinct was to put her down for her weakness; the way we had done in the Scar Hounds and Maw days. But if I had done that, I would never have stood before the Emperor himself, blade in hand, ready to end him…
I had to cooperate. I had to stand out. I had to prove myself. Again...
"Vireth of Kuat, I am Mercy, an ISB agent. I am going to approach you, place my hand on your shoulder, and guide you out of here. Understood?" I asked the woman.
And if she agreed, if she promised not to attack me, I would step forward, grip her shoulder, and lead her out of the chamber. Back towards the dropship that had brought us here; to place her safely aboard.
Her paddlebeamer came up fast. A silver streak of ion fire shot at him again, intending to drop him hard. No hesitation.
All the while, she moved closer, boots crunching the snow. And while the paddlebeamer never wavered, her hands shook faintly. Cold sweat clung to her skin, and the ache in her head pounded with her pulse. Withdrawal dug at her, thin and sharp, but she pushed it down.
For a moment, satisfaction surged in her chest, but it soured when she saw how broken he already looked. The avalanche had nearly finished him. Her jaw clenched. Damnit all to hell. That nagging sensation shot through her.
Nek take it!
The guilt she'd been shoving down to the pits of her mental hell came tapping back with the aggrevating nail click of Rancor talons.
He watched on, Solan now moving through the lines of battle that had finally become interwoven. The forward push of the two Battalion's walkers meaning that the AT-ATs not being assaulted by the Jedi or not reduced to scrap heaps already were to be faced with a weapon that could trade blows and hold their approach out on open ground. The push was one that Solan would have preferred never happen, but with the Jedi doing their thing, it meant that his strategy no longer was viable if he wished to avoid further harm to his allies.
At most, he would see his own men suffer the pain of loss and death, he would not allow those of the Alliance or their allies. He had come with that very intention, from the start he had handpicked Sunray Squadron to be his pilots, he had handpicked his Shadow Legionnaires to crew the walkers. He had chosen to devote a great deal of resources in bringing Droids from Kesh's own defense forces to this battlefield. Droids could be replaced, could be repaired or new ones could be built with simple capital, but human life was precious.
His dear daughter, cradled in his arms as he told her everything would be ok. As he lied to her, unable to find the cure he desperately sought and refusing to bind her soul to a body like he had his own and risk the damnation of his dear beloved child in the Netherworld.
His eyes closing as the anger and rage spiked once more, those around him feeling that cold chill as his presence rippled out over the ground. Washing over Prowler II
, Wymar
, Skorvek
, Ko Vuto
, Kylass Starhaven
, Pak Jaehyun
and Jin Taeyang
with little held back. Though, he did not fall to his desperation, even as his past selves spoke in his ears, whispered for him to wipe clean the slate and to clear this valley of any threats to the Alliance.
He had already been careless in ensuring that his allies did not push forward, even if he had been unable to plan for the arrival of Kylass Starhaven
on the field of battle.
At this point, his goals were clear, and his gaze narrowed with his sights set on the direction of Prowler II
. He could not physically see them, but it was in the same direction as the lingering essence that he had taken from Kylass before he had ended the sorcery. While he had released nearly all of the power he had drained away from those who had been his targets, he kept hold of that strand from Kylass, used it to track her down so that he could fix his mistake.
His gaze did halt on some dying imperials though, his thoughts flying through if he should finish them off, if he should kill them here or if he should leave them to suffer. He couldn't be sure, didn't know if this was the right call or not. But as he reached out towards them, he would breath out slowly. Instead of draining them, he would call upon the force and would do something that he had once learned from Sochi Ru and from Ran Serys
. A kindness as he would take from them their pain and instead grant them the peace that he could without taking their lives any more.
It was possible they would still die, that a missile may fall where he stood now, or a bomb may miss a target. But this act quieted them, pushed down the two selves that fought for him to drain them, to take from them and to satisfy his hunger. It made him look down at that young self of him, and taht older self that had been his form in its final moments before his first death. They were the past, a past that he had lived through and had been given a just end to in the defense of his people. Yet now his thoughts go back to that day, the cold of Arkania instead the warm winds of Kesh. The Imperials traded out for the dark and overwhelming waves of Brynadul monsters and creatures that massacred so many.
He stopped those thoughts, cleared them from his mind and started walking again, even as the battle continued and as Tiberius Zaarin
would be met and forced to halt by the Walkers of Solan's forces. They shot into the frontal armor with their top mounted cannons in order to blind the enemy AT-ATs while more Guided Missiles were launched from their tubes to arc up and then down onto the tops of the armored behemoths. While the old imperial AT-ATs were impressive shows of force, there remained the simple fact that it was a design people had long developed countermeasures for.
Of course, that did not mean the tactics were fool proof. Infact, he did not rely on the Walkers, but instead the Jerichos to do the majority of the work. The weaponry on the Jerichos were designed for this specific kind of enemy in mind, and to be able to turn their cannons up and fire into the bottom of the AT-ATs who had without thought presented such easy to strike targets for a force that was on par with them rather than a rebel group of terrorists who scrapped together each piece of tech they could.
An arsenal designed for fear only worked as long as the enemy was one that kind of arsenal could force to its knees. That was not what the GA was, nor what Solan's designs were. He had fought such empires of fear for longer than most on this field have been alive. The Sith Empire, The One Sith, The First Order, The Brynadul and so many before, so many that had long since thought such weapons could bring forth their tyranny for millenia when instead they barely lasted a decade.
He let his thoughts move from the battle though. He trusted that Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra
, Nida, ADM. Reshmar
and Ailuros
could handle the rest from here. That the results of everything would be over soon, and instead he continued his march until finally he would come across Prowler II
and Kylass Starhaven
, or if it would just be the Jedi that he found before him.
POV: Nida Vaal, The Ground Commander
Solan had left her in command, and that was all the more true now than ever. While the First Armored, as well as the First and Second Infantry had moved forward, there was still the other half of the forces that remained in a defensive stance. The Third and Fourth Infantry, the Second Armored, and the First Artillery as well as the droids that had not joined the push with the First and Second Infantry. They maintained position, ready to resume fire once the allied forces were clear but in holding fire of the main guns, there was a change that Nida would have to react to quickly.
As Artam Macek
and SCAR
found their way into the airspace, their bombers able to strike the lines of the Alliance's forces, they would find two things to have been in wait for them.
Though, waiting for them would be the wrong words. After all, Nida would not have expected a force who did not have Air Supremacy or have conducted zero SEAD operations to try and bring Bombers over the heads of the Alliance Forces. It was an arrogance, to think that their bombers could strike without so much as a return shot given, and even more stupid considering the weaponry already displayed and the Interceptors still in the sky above.
Firstly though, the bombers as they passed over did strike well, taking apart some of the Second Armored's tank droids, or a few of the Hyperion Heavy Artillery Droids, even breaking apart some of the defensive lines around them with the shielded Eshkrene Battle Droids or Shielded Striker War Droids being overwhelmed by the destructive power of the bombs.
It was impressive but a short lived sight as the droids who were not within the immediate blast area suffered little damage thanks to their personal shielding, and the heavy armor of the Screechers and Walkers held in reserve meant the fate of those pilots was sealed. In the Shadow Legion, each squad of ten came with one Rocket Trooper, and while the remaining four hundred Shadow Legionnaires kept in the defensive lines could not all turn their eyes to the sky, atleast twenty would find the opportunity to turn their weapons to the heavens. Scrap Maker missiles rippled out, launched from the trenches and screamed into the air, tacking the Bombers with ruthless efficiency as those same bombers had wandered into the range of Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra
's efforts. The guidance systems of the man portable launchers further improved by the same influence that linked together the droids with a hive mind like efficiency.
And that was the second mistake, it was not only those Shadow Legionnaires as Walkers still in reserve used their own guided missiles on these new targets. Their own guidance systems locking onto the bombers and without any delay or hesitation pushing into the skies above to rip apart SCAR
and his wingmen. Those who were lucky and had avoided the truly overwhelming response from the ground would find they were no more safe from the skies either. The Interceptors of Sunray Squadron crying out and their Lasercannon fire falling upon Shadow Squadron, their lack of foresight to clear the skies or to even consider the ground might have means to wipe them from the skies leaving the pilots with the bleak truth that they had flown to their death.
Of course, human spirit could always bring them through this, could always bring them salvation and escape, but if it didn't, they would find resistance would only keep them alive for so long.
"Jedi Master Dynas, if I might be blunt and inhuman in this next request... Wipe this filth from the field of battle. Utilize the my Lord's Creations to their fullest extent." She looked towards Dynamis "Dynas" Ultra
for a moment, letting him know that she trusted him to finish this once and for all. That the forces of the Alliance had been given to his command fully and that Nida would allow for the man who had become one with their systems to be unhindered by her own suggestions from this point forward.
Instead her eyes would return to CT-312
, looking to them and giving them a soft smile. The now woman in her fifties would keep her gaze on the soldier for a few long moments.
"How my Lord fights, is not the ways you may be familiar with. We have long fought against this Galaxy's darkest monsters. Stole to ensure the ships under our command remained capable of doing the duties that had been given to them. By all merits, one would consider my Lord nothing more than a Pirate and a Scoundral, a terrorist in the minds of some but to him he does these things with the hopes to lessen the quantity of the dead that fill the Netherworld. Ruthlessness is Mercy, to ensure the enemy capitulates while ensuring that the weapons we use spare us from sending our brothers and sisters to their deaths." She was cold in her words, cold in what she stated and how she said it. It had become methodical for the Shadow Legion, to kill without compassion just as the droids by their sides did so.
Yet, there was compassion in them being the ones to suffer. To use cold steel and droids in these wars her Lord brought them into.
"Though, I suppose it is now the policy of atleast a portion of the Alliance's Forces. And while I am certain my Lord will have to answer for his choice of actions, for his use of vile sorcery in order to spare those the suffering of conventional wounds and death claiming them slowly. It was still killing in the end, and there are those who will not look upon his choices with kindness or view things in his way. The man has long since left behind his Humanity in some ways." She paused for a moment before looking towards the Soldier.
"Ashe, a good name. It reminds me of some of my old companions. I have seen so many die over the years in service to our Lord... but I hope this venture will bring some peace for him and for your fellow soldiers who no longer have to risk their own lives when we can offer the weapons before you today." She would give the woman another smile, letting Ashe be welcomed before looking over her shoulder again in the direction of the man she had sensed before. He seemed to be after something other than the Generators, and so she did not care to stop him. Let him claim his prize, whatever it is.
POV: Project Adam, Naval Commander
Adam did not need to be told twice as ADM. Reshmar
gave the command. The Star of Kesh continuing to lead the two Hellfire Cruisers with it forward. Their weaponry ripping through the emptiness of space and without any loss of momentum and energy the accelerated shells and rounds impacted against the turrets and superstructures of the ISD's. Ripping through metal and shielding as the Heavy Warheads twisted and tore open the surface of the craft. Solan's small cruiser strike group had only one goal, and the thought to take the ship had been wiped from Adam's concerns.
Instead, the Dropships would be used for a different goal. Areas where the ISD's ships failed, they would let the warheads they carried loose. Further impacting and rupturing the surface of the ships. The Fighters that could be scrambled having the focus of the gunners or the interceptors that were with Ailuros
, all the while Scurrg Heavy Bombers loosed their own weaponry upon the engines and domes of the ISD. It was a onslaught all while Reshmar continued his own assault on the other crafts.
Adam did not need to give a single command by this point, and instead his focus moved to the planned arrival of their reinforcements. The arrival of the Mon Mothma. It was soon, he had already calculated that out and the AI knew it would not be trouble for the vast ship to lay waste to their enemies. That all said though, he considered that the craft may arrive outside the planned engagement area. A backdrop for their enemies to realize that the Alliance had not been so thoroughly broken as they believed. Of course, the Home Fleet was separated from them, the Third was to the North and away from the battlelines beyond what Reshmar had brought today, but the Tenth was far from that. It had been the Armada that had been placed in this area and had included even officers and ships from the Hapes.
While those Hapan Ships have been given leave, and the ships were still organizing and getting into a more capable force once more, the Mon Mothma had been called as a symbol. Something more for the Imperials to look upon and to see that they were not so unstoppable.
It was for that reason that Adam smiled when his officers spoke up, that he found his gaze turning to the right and the sight of the ship's IFF was registering now. That the ship ripped through and into the system, its systems and hull groaning against the Admonisher's Interdiction field. As Adam thought, it was too far to be of help in the current engagement, but its presence would do more than enough.
Imperial Pilots and Crew would see the seventeen kilometer vessel appear, that it stood behind Reshmar and Adam's own forces. It would be a beacon of hope, one that the people below could even start to hear chatter regarding if the ground based systems picked it up. All the while Adam refocused his mind on the battle at hand.
"Have the Uvak's Cry and Ruination of Dreypa loose their Warheads without pause. Bring low our enemies, and should any fighters seek to come and strike out own craft, utilize plan interference." The plan in question was early detonation of warheads in the path of the incoming starfighters and bombers, creating a field of flak and debris or simply blasting apart any vessels too close to the missile at time of detonation. It was a method of point defense quite unusual but one they had perfected when fighting the Swarm Ships of the Brynadul.
And with that, Adam allowed for the future to play out, and for the good ADM. Reshmar
to take his next steps as well.
The offer was before the assembly. Their task was done: the ultimatum delivered, the Emperor's will declared. Trillions had come under Imperial dominion. No power in living memory had done the same. The Alliance had been cast from the very heart of its territory. Its political centre was left gutted, its grandeur reduced to ruin.
He caught the eyes of several of the senators and dared himself to give the humblest of smiles. He knew something they didn't. He bowed with a gentle nod of deference to the assembly.
Redak never believed they would accept clemency. A wounded Mawkus cub will always fight when pressed against the wall, no matter the odds. It thrashes because it knows nothing else. That instinct is admirable, though it blinds more than it saves. The Emperor would not admire it, of course. The Vizier had made the truth plain: the Alliance would destroy itself long before the Empire needed to. Their own quarrels would undo them, more surely than any fleet bombardment.
He himself had seen Alliance force users assaulting their own Lightsworn allies in the heat of battle, captured in the Minister's broadcast. The Jedi were clearly more desperate than the Emperor had given them credit. He could admire that too. It was what an Imperial would do, strike out against anybody in their way. For them, even their own allies. For the Emperor, a political remnant.
Their legacy would not be carved in stone or song. It would drift as stardust, nameless and unseen.
And what of the other guest, tolerated yet ignored? Boyd could not even pity him. The man was hollowed out, still raging at the night, convinced his people would leave a mark. They would not. Their legacy would be a joke shared by drunks who barely remembered the punchline. Boyd thought perhaps the flotillas might one day cut them from the rest of the galaxy. If it came to that, it would not be punishment. It would be a mercy.
The force pike found its mark, jabbing itself straight through the stomach of his opponent. It had been pretty well thought out-- back him into a corner, and overwhelm the Imperial with attacks. Simple, yet clearly effective. It had proved too much for the other to handle, and he exploited the opportunity to deal the finishing blow.
With a drag backwards, the force pike slid out from the wound it had caused the other, as Gavin watched the Imperial collapse against the wall. The shaft of the force pike was covered in a deep crimson, as a light steam came from the electric tip. Produced by the electricity burning off the blood that had covered it. It was clear that there was going to be no second wind from the other, as despite the fire that burns inside of him, the body is too damaged to support his rage and ambition.
This, was the end.
However, before Gavin was able to turn away and resume business as usual, he had caught the other's placid expression. Halting, to see the other look at him with a sense of...serenity. Despite the fact that he had a hole in his stomach, his mind was drifting off to better thoughts and better times. Gavin was witnessing the man's life flash before his eyes, which is something he isn't used to. Sure, he's blasted several men in the past. Even in this battle alone, he's cut down many of the opposition. But he didn't get to witness their last breaths, the expression on their faces.
For a reason he couldn't comprehend himself, he started to feel sympathy for the one laying against the wall. The man was a complete stranger, who would've happily cut down Gavin had he been given the chance. But he was a person. A person who, in his last moments, decided to give it his all. Discarding his rifle in favor of an entrenching tool, to take Gavin on in melee combat. And that was worthy of respect.
As Sharad Dhavale
had his own thoughts on what could've been, Gavin had his own. Maybe the Imperial was someone who was fun to share a beer with. Maybe he was a comedian, a good man. But whatever the man might have been, it was ripped away by the Empire. An Empire that decided to shoot first, and throw lives away. He wasn't much of a politics man at all, it normally bored and confused him. But after today, he was sure that his hatred of this Empire was well placed.
He briefly took his eyes off the man, to glance around the battlefield. As the warfare in the trenches went on, it became clear that the Alliance had the upper hand. Whether it was through numbers, positioning, skill, or a mixture of it all, the Alliance forces in the trenches were too much for the attacking Imperials to handle. They were steadily being defeated and driven out of the trenches, as the reality was clear that the attempt to charge into the trenches was a failure.
His gaze returned to the one against the wall. The Imperial was starting to fade, as his hands had loosened their hold on his wound. While he contemplated putting the man out of his misery, it was clear that he wasn't in a state of misery. He couldn't read the man's mind, but he could read his body and face. And they said that the man felt, at peace.
They could've likely been friends, in another life. But in this one, they were enemies. That's the way it goes.
With a lift of his offhand, he gave Sharad a tip of his hat. He didn't know his name, his backstory, who he was. But the man stood and fought. And for Gavin, that was worthy of his respect. And to show that respect, he decided to leave the man to his fate. To give him the bliss of his memories, and to give him a peaceful death.
"Easier...ack...said...ACK...than done...!!!" Ersethy said, The Deputy having gotten it into a headlock and trying to brutally pound her skull in and strangle her at the same time. With a shout, Ersethy hurled The Deputy off it before trying to strangle her with the Force. The Deputy used telekinesis to launch multiple shards very calmly in retaliation, shredding part of its face and spilling black blood that burned in the snow.
With a mighty shout it breathed red fire towards the Deputy, who dodged the blast, flinging more and more shards of debris it's way and forcing Ersethy to dodge, unused to fighting such a homicidal opponent that was on the Light Side.
It was honestly taken back by how damn aggressive The Deputy was, who had retrieved her sword and lunged, only to dodge as Ersethy just resorted to overwhelming the sightless fighter with heavy red flame blasts from its throat. Blasts too powerful to overcome directly.
The Deputy weighed her options. She was no fool. A tactical retreat was the best that could be achieved right now.
But Ersethy had not seen the last of this particular Deputy. She was going to be on the witch like a fly in poodoo.
The Deputy retreated into the snow storm. Ersethy pursued, only to find she had already vanished.
Snarling in frustration as it's face regenerated, Ersethy breathed a massive gout of red flames onto both Arkanian and Alliance Forces, which burnt through armor and shields and flesh in seconds, melting the snow all the way to the rock beneath, while wordlessly gesturing for any nearby Mawites to get out of the way as a professional courtesy.
It directed its hands and the lake of flames became a raging tornado of red fire, that she used to burn a swath through defending forces, the Tornado unleashing fireballs of its own as it rushed the the battlefield to kill as many as possible, soldiers roasting alive before turning to ash just by being in a very relatively short general proximity
"We take what was promised." Talon repeated back to Tyro Lok
.
As the two men stood within the circle a voice came from behind, that of Damien Zannen
. Talon's head bowed down some in acknowledgement of the new party member. His confidence of himself was....admirable, but in times such as these Talon would say otherwise. Nonetheless, he would not say no to more help. A nod of his head as the three of them stood within the circle.
His troopers surrounded the circle, blasters pointed at the doors just in case something were to come out giving the three no time to react. They were his best after all.
Stretching his hands towards the doors and taking a very deep breath to calm himself and his mind, Talon exalted all of his force with his comrades doing the same. The dim red circle illuminated beneath their feet signaling it's acceptance of their will and resolve to the Dark Side. Even with three it was not an easy task for the door to succumb to their will to open. For Masters who lived and breathed their ways it would be simple, much like if their Emperor was here he would have easily made the door give way. A bead of sweat rolled down Talon's face as they slowly started to turn the sealed door to the left. The steel and stone finally gave way inch by inch as it crumbled from years of no one ever entering it's depths.
Flashlights were shown through the opening as best as possible as an icy cold blast came forth from within the sealed chamber towards the party standing before it. Clean air but steeped in darkness flowed through them all. In Talon's case it gave him a sense of renewal for energy. More they pushed through gritted teeth and feet shuffling to keep it opening. Finally through the midway point, Talon, Tyro and Damien gave it their all and slammed the door open revealing a dark entrance.
That same breeze still crept through them all as Talon took a couple of deep breaths and steadied himself and stood up completely. Bursts of fire from sconces illuminated along blackened pillars as if welcoming them all in. The floor looked as though it were made of the slickest black granite ever seen and reflected both the pillars and fire magnificently giving it a mirrored like effect. Talon took a step forward as the rest of the sealed room lit up with light.
Desks lined the sides and a massive desk stood far before them, singled out, but made known it was in command. Talon looked to his comrades and nodded his head. He entered first and soon his troopers did as well. It was without any hesitation the expedition team made their way in setting up a small base camp and going over everything and starting to pack up what they thought would be information the Empire would need.
He reached out, feeling through the thick blanket of the Dark Side within the enclosed tomb of desks and literature but he could not sense anything that would cause them harm. Unless it blended well with it's surroundings, he deemed it safe enough for them to continue forward.
Behind the desk that commanded the room, a massive double gate stopped anyone from entering. Through the bars, Talon could see crystals.
A smile cracked behind his mask slightly.
"I believe we found what the Emperor was looking for..." He looked at his comrades for approval.
Jacen blinked open his eyes. He blinked open one eye. He felt a type of pain that rose up from his guy on a wave of nausea.
Training kicked in. Think, assess and plan. It wasn't easy. He was in a bad way. He couldn't reach for the Force.
Jacen moved. Even the slightest movement was a mistake. He learned that he was on a bed. He was chained to that bed.
Jacen drifted back out of consciousness for a little longer. He didn't fight it.
He woke again. Something had beeped. There were things that beeped and hummed. He was on a ship. There was medical equipment around him. He mentally walked through what he remembered.
Not dead. That was good. But was he on an Alliance medevac ship or had that frelling bounty hunter dragged him away?
The invitation to Alexandra's pod signaled on Cressida's pod's message center. She checked it and looked over at Alexandra, giving her a thumb's up followed by a raised finger. Yes, I'm coming. Give me a minute. She watched as the Imperial delegation -- if one could call them that -- filed out of the chamber. It was an awfully long way to come for what was obviously a fool's errand. So why had they come? Why had Runar Ævar
irreparably damaged the reputation of his business interests to represent them? Only a fool would have done so without some sort of guaranteed return.
So what was it?
The Senator's features remained thoughtful for several moments, and then after a moment she signaled Kenat on her communicator. "Senator Tolliver," he said, as always the picture of benign efficiency.
"I'll be visiting Senator Feanor's pod in a moment. I hope you won't think me paranoid, but would you do something for me? Ask Senate Security to run a scan in the chamber. A full scan, including toxicology."
"You think the Imperials brought some sort of toxin? A poison?"
Cressida frowned and looked over the edge of the pod toward the ground, half-expecting to see a cartoon cloud of noxious fumes. She saw nothing. "I don't know," she confessed. "But they must have known we wouldn't accept their terms. And I think they aren't stupid enough to believe that any media coverage of their absurd little game would break in their favor anywhere outside of their own propaganda waves. I want to know why else the would have come all the way to Fondor."
"If there is something, you should leave the chamber," said Kenat.
Cressida said: "If there is something, either it hasn't made it to this level, or it has and I'm already dead. In theory, the Alliance should have some sort of automated sniffers in place to protect against this sort of thing, but I want to be sure."
"Understood, ma'am," said Kenat after a momentary hesitation. "I'm sure the SIA is tracking the Imperials during their time on Fondor. I'll request a briefing for their movements following the session."
"Good," Cressida said. "Let me know when. If you need me I'll be next door."
Cressida left her pod and rounded the corner to the entrance to Veradune's pod. It fitted nicely; Veradune and the Renascent Heirate had entered the Alliance at the same time, and they were all but neighboring entities, so the proximity was poetic. Not to mention that both Cressida and Alexandra had joined the Senate at the same time, following their planetary leadership returning to other duties. "Permission to come aboard?" she called from the entrance, more as a gentle icebreaker and announcement of her presence than an actual request for permission. She greeted Alexandra with a slight incline of her head before turning her gaze to Dayna Rhyss
. "Good morning. Cressida Tolliver, of the Renascent Heirate." She glanced at Alexandra, her face impassive. Skeptical, but open to being convinced.
Reshmar watched as the instantaneous impact of the Neutron cannons faded away, leaving the shattered hulk of the destroyer. Its starboard side gashed and crumpled from the force of the weapons. While the vessel was dying, it was not yet dead. The ship turned its attention to Reshmar's group and began to fire on the Reef home. A sister destroyer joined the first and fired on the Concordia.
Reshmar looked at the holo display and watched the formation of bombers sent to dispatch the Destroyer moving into the lower atmosphere. The fighter escort had moved forward and engaged the fighter craft that had come up from both the destroyer and the world below to intercept the incoming attack wing. He switched to the video feed from the lead bomber and watched it moving in for a moment. As the ship shook from the impacts of the destroyer's barrage, he watched as missile after missile launched from the attack craft, aiming to strike the Destroyer. He gazed away as an officer to his left reported. “New contact bearing 198 by 37, sir. It is the Mon Mothma” said the sensor officer. Reshmar knew the massive ship would have no problem with the Abolisher field, but imagined it was a rough reversion into real space. The massive form of the Mon Mothma appeared on the holo display behind and to the right of his formation. Like a great Leviathan, its presence was far more intimidating than the entire force that engaged the imperials. “Comms, welcome the Mon Mothma to the system and see if the Admiral would like to have Caf aboard The Reef Home when this is all over,” said Reshmar before turning back to look at the tactical display.
Missile after missile impacted upon the destroyer’s shielding as the bomber wing circled for a second run. The video feed from the lead bomber vanished in a short plume of light, then static. Reshmar looked at the feed from another of the bombers, noticing that eight of the thirty six of the attack craft were marked red. Another five were moving to return to the ship, suffering damage that would prevent them from continuing the mission. Half the fighter escort was gone, and the remaining six fighters were holding their own against the far superior Imperial fighters. Reshmar considered dispatching another wing of bombers and fighter escort, then paused. “Comms, ask the commander if he would like the kill on that destroyer in low orbit,” Reshmar said, considering the massive vessel was out of position for the main ship-to-ship fight but perfectly in position to engage the destroyer with its attack craft. He looked one last time at the destroyer moving towards the planet, then gave the order to recall the remaining attack wing. He had lost enough men today. They had softened the destroyer and brought down its shielding; the Mon Mothma would do the rest.
In the distance, the Imperials fired volley after volley only to have their fire disperse on the shielding of the 3rd fleet's vessels. The battle for Arkania space was over as the Mon Mothma sat like a demon over the system, wreathing power and asserting its might and control of the system.
Jin Taeyang
mounted atop the Oggdo they had captured not too long ago for the Black Sun, silently mouthing to himself what the kark. He felt a pit form in his stomach, as if his gut was twisting and wrenching as he watched his crazy companion dismount from their ship aboard the giant man-eating toad. They were supposed to just be here to evac wounded soldiers, not get themselves thrown into the middle of the mess that was the middle of the battlefield, but apparently something was lost in translation as his eccentric counterpart landed amidst the snow to help the other Lightsworn on the battlefield. 
Kylass Starhaven
| Henna Ashina | Inosuke Ashina | Corr | Jannik Morlandt 
