Gods of Iron (GA dominion of Yag'dhul)

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Capital City - Fleeing
Allies: Not those metal things. @Aston Jacobs
Objective: Defend and survive
Post: 3/20

Somehow, treating this like any other combat scenario, rather than the apocalyptic one it truly was, helped Qyren calm her inner nervous agitation, which proved to be a boon to her combat skills. A few well-timed deflections blinded one of the robots with his own fire and gave her some chance to focus on the second, whom she fended off for another minute before she released one hand from her hilt and Force-pushed him into his companion while still deflecting his shots. Thrown into a heap, their attacks were momentarily stalled as they attempted to right themselves-- or at least lift an arm in her direction. Qyren's eyes widened slightly in concentration as she slowly twisted her fingers closed in the interim, crushing the robots into contorted hunks of metal with a judicious application of Force. She held her closed fist aloft for a moment, waiting. One twitched, but then the pile was still.

An explosion turned Qyren's gaze from the ground to the sky, and she watched a flaming ship pass overhead, several small objects jettisoning from it before it became so many burning piece of debris. It would be well out of Qyren's area once it all fell, which was a small blessing, but it reminded Qyren that, even if she found other avenues of escape from the city, there was nothing she could about getting airborne. For all she knew, that had been a fleeing civilian transport and not a military ship; it hadn't been recognizable to her as one or the other before it broke apart.

Fuelled now only by the sense that she had to do something, she turned and retreated back to the street, slamming into a body and grabbing at its arm to steady herself and him. "Turn back! They want us to go this way!"

The man ripped his arm from her grasp, his voice issuing from the oddly-shaped cavernous mouth common to the Givin, his face awash with the vibrant light of a nearby burning building. Qyren instinctively found herself recoiling from the image. "Are you mad? They're behind us! We don't have anywhere else to go!"

Qyren watched him run to the elevators, too stunned to stop him, and then glanced back down the street with consternation in her expression. Although their appearance was... startling, and although the situation disturbingly played on their appearance as nightmare creatures, they were still beings connected to the Force, and Qyren couldn't stand by and watch a sentient being be hurt. Not by other species, not by the Sith, and not by whatever these things were. Not during an unexpected war.

Without so much as a shake of her head, Qyren stepped right into the path of the next staggered group of individuals, holding up her hands, lightsaber hilt clearly in evidence. "The elevators are a trap! Find another way out of the city!"

"Another way?" the woman asked, looking aghast at Qyren before she redirected her gaze to the elevators towering above the city, still so many blocks away but looming close enough to seem threatening. Flamelight danced across her face, casting terrifying shadows along her prominent bone structure.

"Tell anyone you can! Find ships, get into the country, but don't go near the elevators!" Qyren warned, looking in the direction the other potential Jedi had been in. She didn't know who he was, but he would be an ally, no matter the faction he supported. A second warrior, a second Force-user, would be a welcome relief to her otherwise solo shouldering of responsibility. There was no military left that she could hear; just screams and weapons fire and the certainty that there was no organized force to whom she could look for assistance. As far as she knew, she and whoever the other Jedi had been were all that stood between the Givin and total annihilation.

However, if she saved this small group, it meant she couldn't warn others, and someone had to take care of clearing out the infestation, even if a hundred more were dropped in the next minute. There was always the hope that she could get some together and they would know a lesser used route out of the city.

And why not this group? Qyren's eyes cast over the Givin before her, one rogue human among the lot, and her expression smoothed out. Very well. This one.

"Stay with me. We'll find another way out. Does anyone here know the nearest exit out of the city?"

"It's more than half a mile," a male Givin called from the back in a quavering voice. "And we can't take the short route because of the fires. We'd never make it."

Qyren adjusted her grip on her lightsaber hilt. "If you can show me the way, I will protect you until we get there. But we cannot stay here and we cannot go to the elevators."

Another Givin placed his hand on the trembling speaker's shoulder, and he nodded at Qyren, face immobile enough that she wasn't sure what he was thinking. Exhaling slowly, Qyren opened her awareness to the Force, trying to ignore the overwhelming emotions of the Givin and focus instead on sensing those who were still fighting, those who might be Force-sensitive. If the Jedi padawan was near, if any others were still making a stand, she would know.

"Lead on," she said. The Givin who had silently volunteered came up beside her and started a swift pace down a course parallel to the elevators that so many had hoped would bring them salvation. A steady pressure began to build in her chest, but Qyren put the feeling out of her mind.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Shuttle
Objective: Get aboard an Architects Hive Ship
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Ylvaris Desman"]

The clone was out, and Ylvaris went right after him. For a moment, Rook was left alone in the shuttle. He took a step toward the gangplank, and froze. This would be an easy way to go. His mother, his sister, all those he'd fought for awaited him in the great beyond. What reason was there to continue this fight? Surely [member="Coren Starchaser"] would figure things out. He had folks like Ijaat and Spark to back him up. They had a purpose. Rook? He just killed people for the greater good.

He drew in a deep breath, and turned to glance out the viewport. The Lambda was rapidly approaching a crumbling skyscraper. Another few moments and Rook would be another casualty of the Architects' crusade.

But Stanley wouldn't be okay with that, would he?

"I could really use your help right now," he muttered, his own voice sounding far weaker than he'd expected. Stanley was gone, and he was alone now. The Tiburons had their purpose -- his stint with them was entirely too brief. It would become a scarce memory for his comrades were he to perish here. After all, going down in a blaze of glory would be honorable enough, wouldn't it?

The skyscraper approached. Rook needed to make a decision. The Architects were still out there. If the Dreadguard had one final mission to complete, it was this.

He turned his back on certain death, swallowed his anxiety, and made the jump.

 

[Malok]

With every passing second, the chaos seemed to multiply.

The cowering masses continued to push, shove, and stampede their way to what they believed to be salvation...only for the metal monstrosities to appear hot on their heels. They came from above, released by a vengeful horde for reasons unknown to the Vulture. Right now, however, motivations were irrelevant. All that mattered was staying alive...and continuing to entertain the heroic streak. As the denizens surged, Jaren took time to help; and in this act he encountered another benevolent soul:

A woman in white.

Together, they aided a fallen man before sharing a mutual smile. It was encouraging to the Vulture to see that he wasn't the only one afflicted by this particular brand of Crazy. However, before he could so much as say a word, the woman in white had quickly moved against the tide of rampaging citizenry. This, initially, confused the ever-living-kark out of Jaren...until he saw the lightsaber. Never before had he seen one wielded, and man did she wield it well.

The servitors demanded that she, and by extension all of them, surrender at once. Oh, and they pointed blasters, as if to say "or else". Then, in the next second, they opened fire...and the woman was practically a blur. She carved her way through a few of them, giving some of the innocents pinned down by the onslaught a chance to escape. Man, look at her go. Jaren thought, before being snapped back into reality by...oh, y'know...utter poodoo hitting the fan. From that point, he continued to do what little he could to help. He kept those who fell close to him from being trampled, whilst also urging them to run faster towards the elevators.

That is, until he heard the woman yell something contrary. They...wanted the people to run to the elevators? That made no sense...but then again, the elevators were the only things not being utterly blown to Hell. "Ah...kark..." he breathed, before raising his hands above his head. "Turn back! It's a trap! he yelled, hoping to inform the panicked souls running around him. Did they stop? No. Did they listen? Negative. Did they...look at him like he was nuts? Absolutely.

There wasn't anything he could do about that, and the longer he stood there, the closer he was getting to oblivion himself. As such, he looked on, hoping to see where the woman in white had gone off too. She stood a chance against the machines, and if he stayed near, that meant he would live longer. With that thought in mind, Jaren ahead until he saw her alongside a small group of survivors. "Hey! Wait up!" he called, before running after them.

[2/20]

[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Captial City - Fleeing
Allies: [member="Jaren Solain"]
Objective: Defend and survive
Post: 4/20

Qyren turned back at the sound of a clear, nearby voice calling out, gazing over the heads of the Givin (and one random human) at an all-too-human figure joining the group. She eyed the newcomer, but anyone made of flesh and bone would be a survivor and welcome in their group.

Movement overhead caught her attention, and her eyes darted up to a small, robotic monitor ([member="First Daughter"]) just out of arm's reach, floating over the group. At the center was a red-hued camera lens. With a quick jerk of her hand, the padawan knocked the monitor aside with the Force, sending it crashing into the side of a building. If it rose to follow them again, she would crush it; their escape had to be quiet and secret or they would send too many opponents for her to safely handle. Did they know where the group was now? Would they be coming? Something on the rooftops flickered in her awareness, a sickening but clear feeling of a Force-user, but when Qyren looked up she saw nothing.

Sith. Would this mean she would have two enemies to contend with? Or were the Sith again behind the orchestration of a genocide? Qyren's mouth tightened and her fingers readjusted their grip on her lightsaber.

"We can't stay here," she said, glancing back to make sure [member="Jaren Solain"] had joined them. "Keep moving."

She offered a short nod of welcome to the newcomer, recognizing him from earlier. The logical part of her said that the larger the group got, the more likely it was they would be noticed, but that would only be a problem if they ran into other fleeing groups. Qyren knew she couldn't turn any of them away. It wasn't in her.

They moved as quickly as they could, looking out for one another better than the swarming mass of terrified Givin had earlier. The streets they moved through now were coated in chemical fire or rubble for the most part, and they had to take several detours to avoid streets that were blocked by fallen buildings or walls of flame. If the Sith was following, he-- or she-- wouldn't be doing it from the heights for long; there was no building in this part of the city that wasn't half-destroyed, wholly destroyed, or engulfed in flame. It was decimated. In spite of the obvious environmental dangers, it was at least clear of the robotic foes Qyren held herself ready for, which gave her the opportunity to acknowledge other things. The pressure building in her chest felt emotional, not physical, and it was a steady throb now, enough to garner her attention. Qyren took a deep breath to expand her lungs, trying to knock the feeling loose, and experienced a sudden shrieking wail of warning in her senses. Still gripping her lightsaber with two fingers, Qyren jerked her arms up as a chunk of burning building cracked off its facade and plummeted toward them. It stopped short as it hit the opposing push of her telekinesis and bobbed ominously overhead. Thankfully, she didn't need to tell the group to run; they did it on their own.

Her telekinesis kept the debris hanging in the air, the heat licking at her skin, and she felt herself giving way beneath its weight. She held it another second, taking several slow, agonizing steps backward, and then allowed it to drop, combat-rolling out of the way as it smashed into the ground where they had been standing. Slowly, Qyren got back to her feet, staring at the chunk of building. Fear shivered through her skin; the people she needed to protect became a boon as it forced her to move past the terror of a near-death experience. Once her guide saw she was moving to rejoin them, he lifted his voice.

"Come on, everyone. Keep moving. We'll have to go past the plaza to get there now." With his instructions and the guiding motions and touches of a few of the adult Givin in the group, they got underway again.

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Location: Capital City - Main Plaza

Allies: [member="Rook"] [member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Jaren Solain"]

Objective: Defend and await orders from Rook


The air was filled with smoke and blood...

Kix dragged his armored body to its feet. Once on two legs he crouched and shook his head. Pain wracked its way through his body and felt as if it were going to suffocate him. He couldn't particularly tell whether it was from his implants or the fall but a gasp of air couldn't help but escape his lungs with each motion. "Haar'chak..." The clone groaned as he fiddled a stim open and opened the slot for it on his wrist plate. Stab. Push. Breathe. It was like cool air flowing through his system as the drugs ran their way across every nerve in is body to belay the pain with iron fingers and gnawing mouths.

"Rook. Come in. I've made planet fall. Rook..." There was no response and his blue visor gazed into the sky where the shuttle was still zooming towards the burning skyscraper. Better not die di'kut. Kix mulled before Cabur's whining dragged him from his thoughts.

With the pain gone he took in his surroundings quickly. He could smell charred flesh and hear screams through the filtered senses of his helmet. When he first game from Kamino the place would have sickened him; not anymore, war had a funny way of making you ignore things. He walked his way towards the edge of the large roof he was on and found his eyes staring down into a broken plaza. Bodies littered the sheet and Architect drones meandered about. Loading a fresh energy clip into the upgraded DC-17m he grit his teeth. It was time to get to work, wasn't it? His eyes traveled down to the strill who lashed its wrinkled tail and looked back toward its master with a hissing snarl. "Cabur. Find Rook. I think we're jammed." Its mouth opened and it slobbered excitedly before dashing off in the direction the shuttle went. Strill were smart S.O.Bs.

Kix on the other hand steeled himself and scanned the plaza one more time. Among the burnt wreckage, slaughtered masses, and smoldering statues and buildings he counted at least sixty drones. He was about to turn himself about and find a safer path when a group led by two sabers, [member="Qyren Leret"] and [member="Jaren Solain"] was caught by his range finder. Normally Kix would have turned his back on a couple jetii running into a kill zone but he caught the glances of startled children and bloodied civilians in the built in zoom. Kark. He could never let a child run to his death and his comms were jammed. "Kark!" He barked into his mic and strode across the roof in a fit of rage for a second, contemplating his path. Moral choices in warzones were always a riddle. He had to pick the right one...

His feet turned and he ran...

Off the edge of the roof into the plaza with his loudspeaker blaring a war-cry, a distraction and hopefully a warning for the Jedi and their troop. "At akaan! Par cyare ner buir! Par Galaar! Par Tal'Verda!" The drones looked up and screeched and began taking a volley of potshots at the air. The first few were deflected by his Katarn armor before he activated his jetpack to spin down and away towards the ground and to cover. They were deadly at range, he wondered how they'd fare in melee.

His armor was smoking with scores of grazing marks that failed to go skin-deep. More battle scars, more glory. That was the way of Tal'Verda.

Another roar of aggression and he vaulted over his cover and activated his pack for the second time. He made a straight dash toward a group of four drones that seemed to catch even such mindless beasts off-guard.

His feet slid across the ground as the jets ceased and he landed. The Drone screeched its own cry of battle before Kix raised the DC-15 one handed and let loose a barrage of blasterfire. The monster gargled and fell as its second comrade hefted its arm up and down to smash Kix's skull. The clone reeled sideways and as he did, caught its arm, twisted sideways, pointed the gun its face and pulled the trigger. It crumpled in his hand and Kix pulled it toward him in an instant. The other two opened fire with screams of hissing weapons and their fallen comrade absorbed the fire for the Mandalorian as he used the body as a shield. Once the firing abated, he kicked the corpse toward the two and blew them to pieces with a hail of close range fire. His fight wasn't over as he broke into a sprint toward the statue in the center of the plaza, popping what ever ugly got in his way and roaring his hate to the heavens as he did so.

"It is a good day to die, scumbags!"

(3/20)

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Groundside
Allies: Lord Cabur(?) [member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
Objective: Space Elevators
Post count: 6/20

Calling the landing rough would have been an understatement. Halfway through the drop his jump pack had run out of fuel. Rook fell like a stone, a few kilos of combat armor and man didn't fall go down particularly gracefully. He swallowed hard as the ground came up to meet him. He could take the fall, it was getting back up after the impact that would prove difficult. Another second and he'd be red paste on the ground.

The command went through. His armor's kinetic shielding came to life along his boots. Now all he needed to do was land on his feet -- a particularly difficult feat when the air below you refused to give. Just twisting around was proving troublesome. Biting back a curse, Rook wiggled about in a rather awkward fashion, just barely managing to 'stand' as the ground came up to meet him.

The impact cracked the cement beneath his feet, and sent a shock of pain up his spine. Kinetic shielding, dampeners, and a thick gel layer could not save him from some discomfort. Still, he was combat capable, and that was all that really mattered at this point.

"Kix." The comm gave no answer. A quick check of his equipment proved what Rook had assumed: comms were jammed.

Lovely.

There were no servitors in his area, but the likelihood of running into his allies was mitigated.

The soft-pitter patter of little feet drew his attentions. His rifle was in his hands as he span on his heel; only to come face to face with the Mandalorian's strill. It yapped twice, and began to spin about in circles. Rook knew of their intelligence. If it had something to show him, it was probably worth his time.

"Lead me." He nodded at the smelly beast. It gave a little half nod, as if it understood the nuances of human communication, and made off down the road. Rook followed, unknowingly coming toward the likes of [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="First Daughter"], [member="Jaren Solain"], and others.

 

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Capital City - Fleeing, Main Plaza
Allies: Jaren Solain , [member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
Objective: Defend civilians and try to help the crazy soldier in the plaza
Post: 5/20

As the group moved, Qyren's sense of foreboding did not abate, and she found herself absently rubbing her chest. Once the group was safely beyond the city's border, she could return to help others-- or flee with this group and hide. The latter wasn't an unpleasant thought, but her sense of duty shamed her for it; she had taken on a responsibility when she agreed to become a Jedi. That much had become plain very early in her training, and Qyren had adopted the idea with ease. She would protect innocent lives as any other soldier did, even if it put her own at risk.

The area was silent but for their footsteps and the occasional sniffle from one of the children. When a slight move of her finger activated the blade of her saber, the sound cutting through that stillness, she felt as well as saw the level of terror in the Givin jump. She shook her head and put her finger to her lips, gesturing the guide to move forward as she swept her eyes along the side street entrances.

Her breath was coming harder to her, but the group wasn't particularly exerting themselves, and she was in good enough shape to know it wasn't that she was exhausted. It was a Force reaction, then. It had to be. The question became what was so imminent and so catastrophic to her that it was able to overcome the control she'd learned since becoming a padawan? Qyren did all she could to keep the discomfort from her face, but her actions had already amped up the adrenaline of those behind her and every step now was fraught with a sense of impending flight.

"Two blocks past the plaza and we'll almost be there," the guide promised quietly, perhaps trying to ease the tension that had settled over them.

A sudden shout echoed off of the rubble, startling the whole group. One mother grabbed her son and clutched him to her side protectively; a small child screamed before the sound was smothered in his father's clothes. Qyren whirled toward the sound as it continued, words in some unknown language reverberating in the air just before the sounds of combat began. The area was not empty. Her instincts were never wrong.

"Keep moving," she ordered levelly. "Stay to the rubble for cover!" The Givin ran after their guide, taking her words to heart and staying as far from the plaza as possible.

Qyren hesitated, then followed. She was the only armed member of the group of survivors, though she had known when she opened her senses that she was not the only group member gifted with the Force. They cut down a side street away from the sounds of battle, then over in the direction they needed to go. She had promised that she would get them out of the city safely. Part of her wanted to lend aid to whoever was left defending the city, but her original promise held. With luck, any armed forces could hold until she returned; her group of survivors wouldn't last if they ran into opposition on their own.

Her noble intent held for two minutes, and then the plaza, which had previously been blocked from them by two streets worth of buildings, was suddenly open and visible to them where the blocks had been entirely flattened by earlier orbital barrages. Fifty-odd robots had fixed their attention onto a single armored combatant in their midst, but the movement of a group of nearly ten was enough to draw the gazes of some droids who happened to be looking their way. There was no demand for surrender this time; already engaged in combat, the first thing they did was fire.

Qyren's blade arced up and around, weaving through short motions that bounced the incoming fire away from her, and, eventually, back at them, but her blade could only handle so large an area. Behind her, she heard someone scream and the sound of feet running. She backed off, blade still moving, just trying to keep as much of the fire from reaching her and those behind her as possible.

She kept her movements slow, not wanting to trip and end her life so unceremoniously. When her foot bumped something, she sidestepped and moved around it; in her peripheral vision, she recognized the mother who had so recently grabbed at her child and her child beside her. Her throat moved in a convulsive swallow, but Qyren kept herself steady, trying to breathe past the Force-induced pressure in her chest. It would pass once they were away from this threat. She could mourn for those she could not save when the battle was over.

Finally, something loomed to her left and she danced back on her toes and ducked behind cover; her careful movements had only managed to bring down one of the metal monsters. The others would be coming. She glanced around her and saw the remaining survivors waiting halfway down a half-destroyed block; one man slouched against another, clearly injured.

"Go!" she ordered those left. "Go! I'll follow!" She pointed at the guide with her free hand. "You know the way."

She heard metal rapidly approaching and looked away from the survivors, hoping they took her words to heart. Bracing herself, she crouched low, eyes on the corner. The first flash of metal caught the edge of her blade, and Qyren threw herself into the close quarters fight, utilizing Force sense as much as vision to twist between the five droids. The first, unaware of her presence, had been swiftly thwarted; her blade cut through legs, chassis, and arms alike as she wove and spun through the close formation of the others, while all their fire managed to hit was one another or the swirling fabric of her over-skirt. She started in a half-crouch, weaving between them and taking out chunks of armor or pieces of bodies, before she spun into an upright stance, deflecting fire and severing a droid's weapon in the process. Fueled by her Force speed and a single-minded determination, she took them out one by one; one droid, which she dodged behind in order to use as a shield, was neatly dispatched by its fellows in her stead.

Panting faintly, Qyren finally stood amid the metal carcasses and looked back the way they had come. No other droids had followed, perhaps expecting five to be enough. The city certainly hadn't put up much resistance until this point, so it would be a reasonable expectation for them to have. Free of her combat burden, the tall Twi'lek ran to the end of the block, eyes scanning for the survivors. She had lost them. No signs remained of their path, and she didn't know the city at all well enough to be able to follow and catch up to them. Wherever they had gone, she prayed they didn't run into any other droids. Qyren hesitated for just a moment more, then turned and ran back in the direction of the plaza, her boots crunching against the gravel of the street. The sound of blaster fire was still echoing, meaning the madman who had challenged them was still alive; Qyren intended to do what she could to aid him, either to destroy the hoard of droids-- unlikely with only two of them-- or to open an avenue for their strategic retreat.

Part of a corpse sticking out from under some rubble caught her attention; however, more important than the gruesome sight of a body was the blaster lying nearby. A soldier, or some armed citizen, hadn't made it, but Qyren scooped up their last possession, checking for signs of damage. It was intact. She had regretted only coming to the planet with her saber once the genocide began; having a back-up would be a blessing. She slid it into her belt as a make-shift holster and cautiously kept moving, eyes and senses alert. Strangely, she couldn't tell where the soldier was in the plaza or anything about him at all, even when she focused her senses to look specifically for him. If it weren't for the sounds still continuing ahead of her, she would have believed she was too late to help him.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Objective: Space
Post 3/20

He knew men were going down to the planet. Coren wasn’t going because he knew the man in charge of the team. That man was @Rook. Someone who had seen the galaxy in the worst of ways and kept on getting up to fight it back. He didn’t quit. That was something Coren, unlike Marek, always respected about the Dread Guard. Sure, they were created in the strangest of ways, with the galaxy not seeming to accept them, and their lack of Force sensitivity, or even presence, but when you had them getting up to fight?

They were a force to be reckoned with. The Architects didn’t have any clue what was coming for them, did they? He knew that they’d get the job done, and if not? He’d get down there himself to pull those men out of the fire. That was why he had brought ShortFin, that and so Lexi could run sequencing on the Reapers Architects. More data the better.

All he could hope for was that the information and call for assistance got out to the network, to the Alliance, hell, even the Coalition. Republic too. Should the Sith show up, he’d have to pick sides, and at that point? The homicidal artificial intelligence was probably a better friend than a Sith ever could be.

The Dreadnought was coming about.

“We’ve got their attention, sir, brilliant plan.” Lexi commented in a sarcastic, if pre-programmed voice. Coren shook his head and merely grinned. Fighters would be deployed soon and the Tiburons were meeting up with him on the playing field.

“Just need to keep them busy.” He stated, rolling the fighter and launching flares that probably need to be added to the ship submission. False transponders and making the AI think there were more targets? That’d let him get in close. Reaching out to the Force, he was charging the Dreadnought and firing full with his ship’s lasers, a strafing run mixed with a collision course.

 

[Spark Finn]

Location: Being herded toward an elevator
Objective: Ride the elevator!!!!!! Don't get killed but get captured.
Allies: GA - #mypeeps
Posts < 20

:./open:/ BlackKnight7 in position. Moving in. Initiating Comm silence.:\end encrypt\


One encrypted message went out to one [member="Coren Starchaser"]. The slicer knew the dude (her dude?) was busy kicking butt from space. So it was short. He and a few others knew her plan, whether he liked it or not. The blond was using one of her superpowers to her advantage: getting captured. But this was intentional. #duh If the reports were accurate about the architects...she would be able to handle herself.

Hopefully.

Terrified people screamed and jostled the bony-blond as she was herded toward a massive silver-domed structure. A stray elbow cracked her ribs and she hunched over, a sharp inhale piercing her lungs. She was still healing from her encounter with @Adekos. Something Coren would never know about.

Thin-hand wrapped protectively around her side as she was pushed forward with the masses. The looming sky lift was just ahead where they were being packed like nerfs to the slaughter on a sunny day.

#hopethiswasagoodidea

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Capital City
Objecive: B
Allies: GA
Enemies: The Architecs
Post Count: [2/20]

With hope and luck the dropship that the clone was aboard broke through the Architects grand blockade with a number of other dropships. In the abyss of space no one could hear the screams, the explosions, or the fire of cannons. Death was silent when it came to space combat. Something that he hated. He prefer knowing what was coming at him whether it was a bullet or Death. After the many years of fighting on the battlefield he wasn't afraid of Death, nor was he wishing it to come and reap him on this day. The soldier wished to live as long as he could managed to, and today would challenge him on that matter.

While they didn't have to worry hundreds of capital guns trying to shoot he and his troops they did had to worry about the multiple anti-aircraft guns stationed at the capital gunning every vessel that was affiliated with the Architects. "Pilot! Get us down to somewhere near the city! These soldiers haven't fired a single shot yet. I plan on seeing them do so," Canal ordered the pilot of the dropship. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir," was the only response of the pilot. Unlike the reign of space there was heavy noises could be heard from every corner. With all the skills of the pilot it wasn't enough for the shell of an anti-aircraft cannon hit the wing of the dropship. The clone knew of this by how the ship violently shook and the warning from the pilot giving them from the cockpit. Canal looked at every one of the men inside the ship and said to them, "Brace yourselves!"

Grabbing on to the anything around him with a tight grip the clone prepared for the inevitable. Crash landing. Mere moments later the dropship crashed into the ground which then led to blackness.

 

[Kix Tal'Verda]

Location: The Plaza

Objective: Survive and Slay

Allies: [member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Rook"]


C'mon Rook.

Kix roared as he reached the top of the stairs at the center of the plaza. Blaster bolts exploded in a hail of red about him. Perma-crete shattered and metal flew in all directions, being buffeted from his archaic Katarn. The Clone dove and hit the ground in a roll behind the arm of what he could only assume was some Givin leader. A quick reload to his clip and a breather was all he had time for before the blaster fire continued and the 'clank-clank-clank' of Drone feet go closer. 1 on 20 something, not particularly good odds.

Kix, however, had a plan and the droids were playing right into it. He reached to a magnetic holster and pulled the anti-armor attachment for the DC-17m. Next he loaded the canister, two thermal dets, his last ammo cylinder for this particular attachment. They had count for something.

"C'mon baby, lets show them your real teeth." His gloved fingers passed over the painted nexu teeth on the grenade launcher for a moment in a brief moment of stillness. Kix could see every moment he watched Galaar fire this very same weapon in odds like this and now his ancestor gave him strength. With another howling cry for blood and battle, Kix stood up and aimed down his sights. 'Thunk thunk'. Both tiny orbs of death were ejected at break neck speed and sent into the horde of drones. One at the front realized they'd been tricked and screeched, unloading its weapon at Kix before the heat vaporized the cyborg whole. The screech echoed a good dozen and half of the beasts were torn apart by fire, bone, and shrapnel.

"OYA! That---" Kix's war cry was short in a gurgle of pain as a blaster round ripped through his right shoulder to bury itself into the musculature and bone under the exposed body glove. A second round of defiance caught the clone in the knee and he crumpled backwards. The clone was now on his shebs, in blinding pain as the drones continued their advance. Poorly aimed shots exploded around him and he could feel his leg twitch where it was punctured. His vision was hazed and he could hear his ancestors call his name through the thudding of his heart...

If he weren't a soldier Kix would have allowed death to come to him. If he weren't a Mando he would have tried to flee, but every instinct in heart told him to fight. He ignored the call of his ancestors. "Not today!" He roared over the haze of vision and blur in his ears. His hand dropped to his side and drew his sidearm into his arm. Pinned on his rear, sitting against the basin of the statue, he still fought back. He had to live. He had to see Calico again, his sister and brother, Sylvanan, Tor'r, and complete his mission.

The first Drone crawled over the ruined arm and aimed its gun at Kix. It was cut short by three heavy pistol shots that brought it smoldering to the ground. The next came and met the same fate and the next. Each blue round whizzed through the smoke created by the massive detonation, making his location, as they tore through flesh and metal to slay each cyborg that would try to stop. He just needed a little while longer... A little bit more before help arrived.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Near a Space Elevator
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Ijaat Akun"], Others
Objective: Get aboard that ship.
Post: 7/20

The Strill led Rook to a massive plaza. It was here that the Givin were being ushered into space elevators by the dozens. He watched as an elevator shot up the massive spire, Givin splaying their hands along the glass in terror. They had no idea what awaited them. Truth be told, Rook did not either, and he wasn't too keen on finding out. He turned his attentions to the battle at hand. A number of the Givin were being forced aboard, but some fought. To his far right, Rook could just barely make out Kix's figure sprawled across the ground. The soldier was wounded, possibly dead.

Rook found himself a nice little spot behind an overturned chunk of permacrete. The Servitors approached his ally, he took a deep breath, swallow; then fired. Two of the automatons fell to the ground in a sea of sparks. Three others turned their attention to Rook.

"Up." He shouted. He was not sure as to how Kix had been wounded, only that the Mandalorian was not in his best shape. A few more moments and he might be dead. There was nowhere safe to drag the commando -- the city was falling down all around them. The only way they could go was up.

Rook pulled himself over the permacrete and opened up on the Servitors. For all their power, they lacked finesse. The pseudo-droids could not move fast enough to catch a bead on their target. Rook's rifle toward them apart, their smoking bodies collapsing in foul smelling heaps.

He offered Kix a hand.

"C'mon. We need to get on that elevator," he gestured toward the massive pillar, "This city's falling apart, and that's where all the Givin are."

Then he saw her. A familiar face in the sea of strangers. But that could not have been her. Qyren was safe back on her colony world, away from all this violence. It was not the kind of place for her, yet she was here; with a lightsaber in her hands. He didn't know what to say, and he didn't have the time to think about it.

"Move your people onto the elevators. We'll figure something out." He snapped at her. His visage was hidden by his visor, his signature lost to the force, but his voice had not changed. There was a possibility she recognized it. He wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not.

The Servitors were giving the elevators a wide berth. The areas around the plaza were quickly going up in flames -- skyscrapers were collapsing in the distance. Staying in this city would be suicide. The Givin seemed to understand that; they were hurrying aboard the elevators now. Rook moved to escort them aboard, turning to Kix and those nearby. As the city fell, so did the jamming devices the Architects had set around it. Comms were live.

"This is Commander Rook broadcasting on all Galactic Alliance channels. The city is falling. Vacate the area," he frowned, "My team is on one of the elevators. Comms will be outonce aboard the Architect ship. We'll find a way to get in touch. Starchaser, Spark, Ijaat, find a way onto that Harvest ship."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Near a Space Elevator
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Rook"], Others
Objective: Link Up
Post: 2/20

As the transmission came through, Ijaat could only grin. Whilst the possibility of raiding a Kyr'stad bunker for toys had excited him, this tickled him even more really. In his own personal mind, he liked competing with Rook. The two were very, very similar, down to a scant handful of differences. But those differences, when they were found, were huge really. As the craft arced through space, he pointed to the new destination, and the bird arced down into the atmo with a fierce slice, contrails blazing. The engines whined, horribly over-taxed and fast, and Ijaat stood at the back of the deployment hangar while Alliance soldiers looked on in confusion as the bird began leveling out and the ramp lowered to the howling wind outside.

Without a second thought, his IFF went active, for the first time actively synching to Alliance channels beyond the Tiburon squad ones. Flares of light marked his HUD, tactical data streaming, and he pounded the floor with his feet, arms churning as he bolted out the open space and leapt into the air, arms and feet trailing through the sky. Through the comms his squad would only hear an insane sound cackling and laughing of pure joy as the Mandalorian hurtled down. In a flare of energy his repulsors shot on, every ounce of energy diverted to them and the sudden glow of the Exemplar-class shield around him. He impacted the ground with a huge thud and whoomph of pressure, and eyes in the helmet he wore lit up omniously from the haze of duracrete dust as he sauntered over to Rook, rifle resting against his shoulder on one arm, and a massive hammer freed on the other, cackling with energy.

"Too late to the party?"

As he said the words, the shield around him dimmed, armor unlocking, and the servos and synth fibers in his armor hummed with the energy now released back to them from his flashy entrance.

 

[Spark Finn]

Location: Elevator
Objective: Take selfie and send it to [member="Rook"]
Allies: #GAmypeeps [member="Ijaat Akun"] [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] [member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Post: <20

Comm buzzed in the pocket of her skinny-jeans pocket. The Givins pressed in around her as the lift doors closed. She was sandwiched between an elderly man and the glass wall to the outside. Face pressed uncomfortably against the glass-surface, glasses sat slightly askew on the bridge of her freckled nose.

#buthewindowseat #winwin

Blue eyes squinted as she looked down, seeing a flash of a familiarish-looking armored dude. Coulda been Rook. Grunting, she fished her comm from her pocket and saw Rook's message. She was on comm-silence so she got everything in text. #SMS

Hands were half pinned against her sides so there was no time to text back. All she could do was send a picture of her face smashed up against the glass wall of the lift with the city's destruction in the background as their cab was whisked higher. It was only after she hit send to Rook that she realized that would probably make for a killer Spacebook profile picture.

She would tag Coren later.

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]
1/20
Objective: Harrass in Space

Yag’dhul was besieged, its people slain and even the Galactic Alliance could not stem the flow wholly. Now it was about survival and saving as many people as they could.

However, the Alliance was not completely without friends. Appearing from hyperspace out of range of the Architect’s weapons was a fleet of Coalition ships.
Admiral Kyrana Gould once more was in command, but this time she was not looking to attack, at least not at first.

“Scans reveal over 50 large hostile capital ships,” the scans officer said grimly.
Gould looked over her fleet list. For a planet so remote from the Coalition, even for an ally like the Alliance, they could not spare their full fleet. Currently she had a mere 5 capital ships and fifteen related escorts.
“What’s the word on enemy fighters and defences?”
“None we can detect. I am trying to patch a message through to Commander Starchaser, but there’s heavy jamming.”
“Bring forward the Elysium and begin long range fire. If we can draw a few of their ships away we might be able to help the Alliance. Ready fighters and bombers and deploy a screen. And keep trying to get through to Commander Starchaser!”

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Space
4/20

He was going to need to keep his focus about him. This mission was unlike anything he’d done. Even when he was leading the Underground, at Csilla, Glee whatever and elsewhere, the odds weren’t this bad. The Architects were something completely different, and Coren needed to keep them distracted. Rook’s team had work to do and at this point, he was going to need to do his best to help them out.

“Sir, we have a message from a BlackKnight7.” Came the call from Lexi. Coren looked up when he heard the voice and then directly back to his flight plan. Pushing the throttle to full, he used his rudder pedals to spin the craft and slammed on the repulsor, bouncing the ShortFin off the Architect Dreadnought.

“Well, go on then!” He shouted as the shields took several hits, Coren cutting the throttle to amp up the shield power for a moment before kicking in the SLAM engines. He looked down at the message that came from Spark and shook his head. “Blast it…”

“Is that for the fighters chasing us?” Lexi asked. An audible sigh came from Coren as he shook his head.

“Tiburons come about to heading three five seven, two eight. Will join you there.” The pilot fell into the Force and reached out to the battle, his focus was extreme at this point, and reaching into the Force was a simple matter. The fact that the ship was flying straight was panicking the ship’s VI. The missiles were coming in, and the alerts were going off, but getting closer, Coren dove the ship and the gunship leapt through the Force and he was away.

Taking the second, he sent off an “Affirmative – Stay Alive” to Spark, before hearing the call from Rook. “You heard the man. Alliance on the ground, get the Givin free, secure the Protectorate bunkers. Fleet, we---”

"Sir, friendly analogs have jumped into local space!" Lexi said, very pleased with the announcement.

"Wonderful, patch me through!" He ordered. "Gould, that you?"

Next? Harvest ships.

[member="Friedrich Stahlmann"]
[member="Spark Finn"]
[member="Rook"]
[member="Ijaat Akun"]
[member="Kix Tal'Verda"]
[member="Qyren Leret"]

 

[Eldaah Aderyn]

Location - Capital City, walking on the rooftops
Objective - Observe
Allies - None
Enemies - None

She frowned as one of her probes was tossed aside by the Twi'lek Jedi, luckily it was durable enough to take the hit. She ordered to remain out of sight until the Jedi has passed and it would follow at a very discreet distance. It was admirable of the Jedi for wanting to save as many of these people as she could, but foolish in her opinion.

Whoever these droids were would not be stopped, there were too many of them. Survival would be a much better tactic for the Jedi, but she wouldn't mind following along to see how things turned out. She suspected the Jedi might have sensed her presence for a moment, but it didn't really matter to her.

A banging from a service caught her attention and one of those big droids barreled out of it, weapon raised. Troublesome annoyance. A flick of the wrist and a push of the Force, and it was tumbling over the edge of the building to the ground below. Stretching, she took the next nearest gap at a run and used the Force to jump from the rooftop to another, following this fascinating Jedi. She got split up from her group by some droids, but that was to be expected.

Directing her probe droid to follow the group of Givin, she kept her watchful eye on the Twi'lek until they reached an open plaza where there were plenty of those droids. A soldier, his presence in the Force absent, was fighting them but she didn't pay much mind to the Force-Dead man. She was far more interested in the Jedi that was hefting a blaster rifle from a nearby corpse. Introductions needed to be made apparently.

Leaping down, she landed behind [member="Qyren Leret"] at a crouch before standing back up.

"Oh very good," she said, her voice modulated and cybernetic sounding. "I don't believe a blaster will help him much though."

 

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Capital City - Main Plaza
Allies: [member="Kix Tal'Verda"], [member="Rook"] (FINALLY.), [member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Spark Finn"]
Objective: Destroy droids, ally with crazy apparent mercenaries
Post: 6/20

Somehow, Qyren had gotten turned around. The only reason the area she had been in was unpopulated had to be that it was the half of the city already cleared, because above her towered the space elevators she had tried so hard to steer people away from and in front of her was a mixture of droids and Givin that the droid guards she had seen earlier had masked. The path the guide had taken them on had brought them in a circle around the very structures Qyren had hoped to avoid.

Standing in the middle of the plaza, drawing the attention of every enemy in his line of sight, was the clear giver-of-the-war-cry from earlier, making his last stand. Her Force sense pinged, and she turned abruptly, lifting her saber into a defensive stance as [member="First Daughter"] straightened from her jump and addressed her. The Twi'lek contemplated her options as she studied the woman before her, certain it was the same presence from earlier. It was obvious she had been observing her, and the monitor now floating behind her queued Qyren into how. In spite of her being Sith, Qyren was not her master; if the mystery woman didn't decide now was the time for a duel, Qyren had little interest in adding an enemy to her list, even if she represented a host of things Qyren herself could never stand for.

After a long pause, Qyren simply replied, "But I can."

A pair of explosions interrupted their conversation, and Qyren turned back in time to see the Mando's shoulder blown open.

The injury to her potential ally focused her; she moved with single-mindedness, rushing in with no time for fancy strokes or spins as she decapitated two droids, disarmed-- literally-- another, and was silently slicing through a fourth before they even noticed she was there. The Sith behind her still wasn't a threat; Qyren hoped it stayed that way, or the man at the center of the plaza was sure to die. Droids Qyren was finding it easy to handle in small groups; a Sith would require her full attention, and she might wind up with a saber in the back or a barrage of blaster shots in her chest if the fight went that way.

Qyren took out one droid at a time as the guard droids nearest her turned their attention her way. Whatever [member="Kix Tal'Verda"] had done before she arrived, it had thinned the crowd considerably. Her saber cut sharp paths and smooth arches through the remaining ranks, but the Mando had picked a central location; that meant no wall to Qyren's back, no guarantee of safety.

She let out a short cry as an unexpected shot burned through the same arm that had caught a glancing blow earlier. She whirled into a crouch and shoved the offending droids away, turning back just in time to deflect fire back at the foe she had originally been facing. That droid went down, and Qyren rolled away from the expected shots from the droids she had almost incapacitated moments earlier. For several minutes, fighting down the droids in her vicinity was all she could do; she didn't even have the focus to consider if Givin were becoming the unfortunate victims of what deflected shots she didn't aim back at her foes.

When she rose from her final kill and turned back, there was a second armored man standing on the platform, and the Givin were milling around before them, unwilling to come close. The droids, too, seemed to be standing back for some reason. Qyren sprinted through the crowds, taking out a few more droids on her way before they decided to regroup, but the others in the plaza ignored her. She deactivated her lightsaber and pushed her way carefully through the Givin to the front to see what had become of the lone warrior and grimaced momentarily; the holes in the Mando's armor were worrisome in size and location.

For Qyren's part, her previously white clothes were torn and mostly marred with grime, burned and slashed at random from fire, blast bolts and direct attacks from droids. She panted as much from exertion as from the nearly painful pressure on her chest, but she stepped forward to the front of the crowd in time for the new arrival to say something about getting on the elevators and turn his helmet to her. The suit was unfamiliar to her, but that wasn't a surprise; she had done little work with Mandos, mercenaries, or soldiers.

"Move your people onto the elevators. We'll figure something out."

Something in that voice struck a chord in her, and Qyren felt the pressure in her chest rapidly unravel and vanish with a nearly audible 'pop'. Her brow wrinkled faintly as she frowned at his terminology, the Force and her own subconscious. She knew no one this tall; the harshness in the tone was strange to her; the address was clearly unfamiliar and military. Qyren turned to look at the waves of Givin behind her, each face seeming the same as the next and each clearly not marking them as "her" people. There was little need for her guidance here, as many understood him and took it upon themselves to begin piling into the first available elevator. Qyren's gaze flicked off to the droids standing watch and the burning city beyond. Guilt and fear swelled in her, and she closed off her Force sense for the moment, knowing her own inner turmoil would overwhelm her enough for the moment. The people she had meant to lead to safety, unless they had turned back, would not make it off the world alive. She had led those people to their deaths. Her eyes closed against the truth.

Grieve later. Later.

She deactivated her lightsaber as she turned to help Givin up the stairs toward the elevators. She now even understood the hesitation of the droids: this was, after all, what they had wanted all along.

They will find us less agreeable than they expect, Qyren thought, helping an older Givin onto one transport. She didn't think the armored men now in charge were keen on becoming slaves or food or whatever the invaders had in mind, not even the one whose injuries suggested he wouldn't be doing much running or significant fighting from this point forward.

With one ear, she listened to the leader-- Commander Rook-- as the skyline sank into chemical fires. His voice played over her memories, ran down her spine, drew her gaze back to him even as she absently handed Givin after Givin off onto the elevator.

Galactic Alliance. She knew the Galactic Alliance, knew where her thoughts went any time the group's name was mentioned. There was a reason the Force might warn her about someone from the Alliance as if finding him were as vital to her as imminent bodily harm. She stared up at the soldier towering above her as an uncertain idea began taking hold, forcing her to push back hope-- and confusion.

When he'd finished his transmission, Qyren left her real question unspoken and instead steadily announced, "There is at least one Sith nearby. Will you be able to patch his wounds?" The change of subject wasn't as abrupt as it seemed; those were the salient points to her at the moment. She was amazed his friend was standing at all; his knee looked like it possibly needed a reconstruction. Walking was going to be a trial, if possible for him at all. The Sith, also, might prove an issue, though Qyren was more certain now that she had nothing to do with the genocide-- "harvest", Rook had called it-- going on around them.

Before Rook replied, a third soldier joined them, dropping from the air with a crunch that caused several Givin to scream in terror, sure that it was the sound of the renewed slaughter. Like the others, he was heavily armed and taller than average. Qyren shushed them and stared blankly at the flashy entrance and the swaggering individual who began chatting up their de-facto leader. Her eyes darted back to Rook and the picture the three soldiers made by standing together, ominously looming over the Givin; her expression smoothed over into her usual calm mask, the face she presented to strangers and the one she used to hide inner turmoil. Both suited her now.

 

[Kyrana Gould]

[member="Coren Starchaser"]
2/20

A crackly message was finally patched through.

“Commander, I thought after Coruscant we could have an engagement without impossible odds,” Gould said with a grim nod.

“I don’t have the ships to engage their main fleet, but I can snipe at them. I also have 12 squadrons of fighters and 4 of bombers ready to fly. Judging by these ships’ armaments they might be our best chance. What’s your analysis on enemy fighters and defence guns?”

The Elysium moved into position. Encounters with the One Sith and pirates had proven the need for a ship with the long range hardware of the Dark Blade, Wyyrlok and others of that kind. Therefore this ship, in addition to heavy batteries of long-range turbolasers and ions had some Vortex Cannons and HVC cannons too.

So far the enemy had taken little notice of their efforts, but that would change once the engagement begun.

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Capital City
Allies: GA, [member="Spark Finn"], [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Ijaat Akun"], [member="Rook"], [member="Kix Tal'Verda"],[member="Jaren Solain"]
Neutral: [member="First Daughter"] (?)
Enemies: Architects
Objective: B
Post Count: [3/20]

He wasn't dead, yet. No, he had thought that the impact would've killed him, but there was always that small window, that small chance of surviving such impact. Not many could survive a crash land and continue fighting. While he wasn't dead he was unconscious. His head grew heavy, his sight grew dim simultaneously, and he could only hear a ringing in his ears. Except he could hear the fading screams and the unloading sound of weapons as if they were all miles away from him. The ground shook the very ground that he was on but it felt light to him. For a moment it seemed that the laws of physics or the laws of reality were bending around him. Was this also similar to those drug addicts who went overdose on some pathetic drug? Probably, especially when your head was very light. He wouldn't have come back to his senses if it wasn't for one soldier grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while yelling at him.

"Sir, we need to do something before we get hit again!"

The clone shook his head and he finally came back to reality. Both the screams of millions could be heard and the sound of gunfire filled the air like a choir. That's what everyone could hear on every corner of Yag'dhul.

"Right, let's move!"

The exiting pad was already opened for them from some of the conscious men aboard the dropship. Canal wasn't the only survivor of the landing as he could see a few other soldiers on their feet, waiting for orders.

"Get ahold of the other platoons and tell them that we are going to head out to the research facilities and military bases near to us. We're gonna salvage whatever tech there is for the Alliance and load up the dropships with it."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

With those orders coming from the clone he began to run through the chaos that was littered with corpses with his team following his lead. Hopefully, they would be joined by the other platoons that made the company he was a part of. With his DC-17m in his hand he began to shoot hostile servitors that intervened his path. Blaster fire that met him was met by the Paragon-class energy shield integrated on his armor being the first line of defense of his armor. Unfortunately, for the hostile drones the same could not be said as they were disabled by the blaster fire of his team's and his. He was glad that the soldiers of the Alliance were wearing the same material that made up the plates of his armor making them endure the plasma projectiles being shot at them. Some, however, took enough damage for a single blaster bolt puncture through the armor and killing them right on the spot. He didn't know how much the energy shield could take until he had to rely on other components of his armor until the shield charged up again. Canal only hoped that the energy shield would linger until he and his platoons would make it to a military base containing treasures of Protectorate technology.

"No stopping, troopers! Don't even plan on taking a quick breath of air!"