Gods of War | CIS Dominion of Rugosa {Golden Crusade}

[Kyyrk]

LOCATION: FOB Calypso​

STATUS: Alive​

OBJECTIVE: Hold out for Reinforcements​

Tags: @To'Kola Bakari | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Tiria Reinhart"] | @A'Runda​

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Voph was beginning to tire. Each fight taking a little more out of him. It had been years since the Zakuul War, and even then, Knights were a rarity. Not every other step. But Voph pressed on. This was no noble fight for the betterment of sentient life in the galaxy. This was survival. And Voph was in no mood to follow the "social niceties" that their allies among the Silver Jedi imposed upon them. His prey was hunted and struck down with fierce, efficient brutality.

Confederate Fighters began radioing in from various points of the Tunnels. Not exactly an army. But they were soldiers nonetheless. Voph had seen more amazing things happen with fewer people. "I'm broadcasting coordinates. If you can make it, get there. If you can't..." Voph paused, leaning against the wall behind him to catch his breath. What if they couldn't make it? It was as central a location to them as he could find. "If you can't, I'll see to it you're avenged."

Voph cut the channel. He was in the clear. For now. The designated point was a small hanger. Not large enough to use for the main evacuation. But it was defensible. And gave them an out, if the Confederacy managed to break the blockade above. But for now they needed to bunker down. Hold out. Survive. Voph took another moment to catch his second wind, then set off through the tunnels once more. Quick and quiet. He had to make a point of staying out of sight till he had backup. Then they could begin formulating plans...

 

[Keva]

Tags: @Thalliesin Bard @ToKola Bakari [member="Tiria Reinhart"] @Voph​

How amusingly typical. Her comms were dead. No response save for the vague cries of battle, bah. Then she operated on her own, as she always did. Turning on her heels she barked a command at her remaining forces, her Charric still having a slight bit of smoke coming from it's barrel after her little execution.

"No response. We break our defense. Deeper within! Line the tunnel with remaining ordinance. We bury the enemy if they come."

A full proof plan? Far from it. But it felt far smarter than actually trying to hold against a seemingly unstoppable force. Cunning would win the day, not brute force. Truthfully, it may just be wiser to find any inner sanctums and bring the rest of the FOB crashing down. See who could use the least oxygen. Though maybe as a show of good faith, she still flicked on her comms and spoke once again. Quick this time, no need to waste breath.

"My forces are moving deeper inside. Do inform me of any attempts to follow, far preferable to blow the enemy into paste."

And with that, the Chiss made her way deeper down the tunnels. Droids firing from behind as the enemy approached, they would hold the line nicely. For approximately 30 seconds. More than enough time, they'd be well secure soon enough.

 

[Haastal Haran]

Objective: Destroy Enemy Warship | Tags: [member="Safira Varad"] | Post: II

When Haastal finally heard Safira's voice he let out a groan of acknowledgement. "Well next time answer me, hell." He muttered before glancing over at the woman. He picked his head up and was finally able to see the hellish wreckage before him. The entire cockpit of the fighter had been completely destroyed. Circuitry hung loose and let out a myriad of loud snaps and sparks where the cockpit had once been. When the Mandalorian saw the wreckage, he couldn't help but mutter. "And I'm still a better flyer than you." He called out to Safira. However, she was already moving to her feet. He followed suit, drawing his back into a tight stretch.

Once he had finally recovered a bit, he made his way to the door with Safira. "Yea, yea. I'm fine." He said, drawing his second blaster pistol from it's holster. He tapped a button on the side of the bulkhead, expecting the loading ramp to rise. It didn't. The man tapped the button on the panel once again, only to be met with disappointment once again. "Oh, son of a..." He stepped back and slammed the butt of his pistol against the panel. After a loud crack and a faint beep, the door finally began to rise. As the door rose, a hail of blaster fire slammed into the side of the bulkhead. Haastal had been peaking out of the door, but now he was firmly pressed against the side of the bulk.

"I count eight." He called out through the comm. The man pushed one of the blaster pistols into his holster, grabbing a thermal detonator that hung on his waist. "Fire in the hole." He muttered, before priming the explosive. He cursed when he realized they were in zero G. "Once i blow it, it's gonna be hard for us to move quick, use your mag boots so you can keep some traction!"

Haastal ducked down, tossing the thermal detonator into the hall before them. There was only a few moments before the explosion went off. Muted by the vacuum of space, the explosion was far less effective than Haastal had hoped. These soldiers, clad in black and gold, continued to march forward in suits of iron and phrik, their blasters aimed at the two intruders. Although the thermal detonator knocked a few of the men back, it seemed like none had taken any true damage. "Damn it! What are these things?!" He called out before drawing his pistol once again. He crept over the side of the loading bay door, firing a number of rounds into the crowd of warriors. Even now Haastal knew, this was going to be a long day.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Objective: Coordinate
Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Tag: [member="Madalena Antares"]

This was by far the smoothest Ministry operation Razelle had been a part of to date. She had to assume it was largely due to the fact that there were very few militant death-buzzards on this planet, especially in comparison to the actual spies she had under her command. The idea of working for an intelligence agency less interested in gathering intelligence and utilizing than they were in stabbing throats was uninspiring. Normally what this meant was that Raz had to wrangle a bunch of ambush predators pretending to be spies. Today, since all of the "assassins" were off once again forgetting what their job entailed and killing enemy soldiers instead of swinging elections or stymieing criminal influence, she got to work with actual gods-honest operatives.

A shame they were all going to die, of course.

Calypso was taking a beating. The "Warmasters" didn't seem to have much in the way of artillery - at least, not presently - but their heavy infantry had been knocking on her door for hours. It hadn't made Razelle's job any more difficult, but there was always that subconscious realization that all it'd take was one barbarian who'd figured out what sniping was or an errant shell from their first barrage to end her career immediately and without resistance. This had left her with an overwhelmingly imperative goal, and one for which she was supremely suited: recon, analysis, and sabotage. The limited number of operatives she had was a boon here. One agent rarely attracted as much attention as seven murderous gingers wearing leather corsets and stripper boots.

From her seat at one of six communication consoles contained within the main comm suite of FOB Calypso, well out of the line of fire, Raz's headset crackled with activity. Her fingers danced across the console in front of her, swapping from the priority alert system back to her IFF projection of the nearby peaks. Two agents within five hundred meters, five total inside of a kilometer. That was plenty to task to basically being forward scouts. The others were further afield, trying to strike at the heart, as it were.

<Aurek, I've got a squad shouting warcries here. Looks to be some kind of hunting party.> As the audio came through, one of those little dots lit up. A moment later, a bigger, redder dot blinked on her screen. <Demarking now.>

Razelle's fingers tapped about on her console for a moment as she sent her own reply. "Estimated numbers, Dorn? Armaments? Composition? Auxiliaries?" They might have been better agents, but that didn't mean they were good agents. Over months of effort and pain, Raz had learned to be gentle with them.

<At least two dozen. Lightly armored, glowing spears. Lots of orbs, probably explosive. No visible escort.> Dorn - "Heron," by her callsign - had been private sector corporate espionage up until a couple of months ago. She shared a lot of Razelle's thought processes, which made her easier to deal with than most birds.

Dancing across her console again, Razelle updated that red blip with further information, giving whatever passed for Confederate field commanders something to sink their teeth into. Then, with two taps, she uploaded the whole thing to the local CISnet and leaned back. "Acknowledged, Dorn. Maintain surveillance until we can verify the nature of those weapons." As she heard a crackle of confirmation, Raz pulled out a stimstick and lit up, surrounding her head with stimsmoke in much the same way that her body was surrounded in the swirling shadows of maalraas magic.

The second she heard from Grek and Herf, she'd hopefully have something more meaningful to deploy her birds towards. Their silence was unsettling.

 

[Madalena Antares]

Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor
Wielding: Dyntech Power Staff | Yrkaa Sidearm | Meymad
Tag: [member="Razelle Breuner"]

She was not supposed to be there that day. With the plethora of missions that she had to personally oversee, Madalena had never even expected to be on that planet. And yet here she was, her heart beating hard within her chest.

The Lord (Lady?) Marshall of the Knights Obsidian entered the room, her eyes wide and leaving no place to wonder whether or not she cared about what was happening out there. She cared. It didn't mean that it would affect her performance; it never had before, nor would it in the future, but her face, at least at present, gave it away.

There weren't many Knights Obsidian on this planet at the moment. A few dozen, and herself. But it didn't matter. She couldn't run to them, couldn't be on the field with them. And everything burned. Too far from the battlefield, where it was supposed to be safe and those who were remote informants were stowed, that's where they'd placed her. Only recently made her Marshall, and first giant mission, she was in the back lines. It was infuriating.

Marching into the Comm Station, Madalena's glowing eyes looked at the screens. It was as horrible as she was feeling it; detached from a buttload of electronics to show her what was going on, she had to rely on the Force. Her other half was on the battlefield, and things were going south. Her sister was on the battlefield, and things were going south. Friends, other people she cared for – but there was nothing she could do short of blowing the planet up that would help, and that would most likely not help those she cared about.

"Anything new to report?" she asked, her voice booming enough hopefully penetrate through the headset worn by [member="Razelle Breuner"]. Maybe… Maybe there was something none of them had noticed yet. Something that the comms person did know. So far from the line of fights, it was a small hope that she could have, that she needed to have. "And is there anything you need to continue to perform to the best of your abilities?"

 

[Safira Haran]

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Objective: Destroy Enemy Warship | [member=Haastal Verd]​

Safira issued a sharp tut in his direction over their commlink, followed with a shake of her armour clad head. 'I answered you di'kut, and I'm supposed to be the deaf one? Damn.' A battlefield was no place for the spirited back and forth they shared, but it was helpful in a way. Not only was it distracting her from the crushing weight of deep space surrounding them, it was dragging her kicking and screaming from the clutches of concussion. At least now, other than a minor head wound and a bruised ego, Safira knew she would be just fine.

With confusion written on her face, she watched Hastaal smack the butt of his pistol straight into the release button. 'You're gonna break that thing before you even get a chance to fire it.' Safira cursed at him over the jagged scrapes the door made as the pistons slid into action, opening them up to a torrent of bright blaster fire. Haastal had the right idea by following it up with their first line of defence. A thermal detonator.

She managed to duck down in time to miss most of the halfhearted shrapnel that sprayed out amidst the explosion. Craning her neck to peak from her side of the door it was disheartening to see several pairs of feet still marching through the corridor toward them. As distracting as the emotion was, Safira allowed it to continue for only a moment longer. A round of blasters fired off in her direction, followed by a response from Haastal, forcing her to snap her torso back up to press against the wall. 'I dunno, some hyped up junkies in fancy suits.' With little time to waste Safira ran her hand along her belt, fumbling for one of the spherical pulse grenades in a pouch on her hip.

Keeping her back pressed against the wall Safira threw the grenade straight down the middle. Before it could even hit the metal walkway a wave of explosive energy burst out into the oncoming attackers. Despite being tucked away behind a wall Safira could actually feel it rippling through the space between them. The two closest men were flung violently into the sides of the hallway. Heavily armoured bodies crashed against the thick metal walls, causing a burst of coolant to spray out and coat the rest of the group in a mist of white foam. Without the grip of their own mag boots the passed out attackers floated listlessly through the hallway. The distraction wouldn't last long, but it would give them time enough to come up with a better plan than this.

Using erratically fired blaster rounds to stretch their borrowed time out further, Safira called out to Haastal. 'Got any ideas?' Their load was lightened by the few that had been knocked out by both detonators, but they weren't out of hot water just yet.

 

[Jeanne-Marie Antoinette]

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Location: Rugosa ~ Objective: Evacuate ~ Tags: [member="Faye Malvern"]​

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​Faye's own labored breathing was all she could hear amidst the chaos. Blasts scarred the battlefield, screams escape the lips of the dying and injured, airships hurtled to the ground. Her blue eyes, puffy from the tears, fixated on the soul before her, grasping on to life. Why him? Faye did not know him, but she could tell he was a good man. The man had no idea that Faye was a Duchess, yet he still shielded her from an explosion out of the goodness of his heart. He did not deserve this, Faye was sure of that. It's what made this whole ordeal worse for the Duchess. As a pacifist, the unnecessary loss of life always deeply upset Faye. Now was the time for composure, she was aware of that, but her lack of experience in war was preventing her from doing so.

The poor man's eyes tried to roll to the back of his head. "NO, PLEASE NO" Faye cried out. As if her pleads would somehow convince the chilling grasp of death to not take this man. That lump in her throat returned, and her soft whimper turned into shaky cry. Faye was out of her depth here. As well as not having any combat experience, she had no medical experience. Her role on the battle torn planet was to serve as a symbol of hope and peace. To afraid civilians, the presence of a noble from the faction protecting them could inspire, give them hope. The proud and loved Duchess of Bestine IV, was hardly looking 'Duchess-y' at the present moment. Strands of hair were sticking out from the large moussey brown space buns, on either side of her head. She was wearing no armour, so the thick clothes she adorned were very damaged.

Spoiler

All seemed lost. That was until a melodic voice spoke out to Faye. The Duchess looked up and saw a beautiful woman, who's aura shined like the stars, standing next to her. Faye's mind was not her own at the moment, she could not even form the words to reply to the woman's claims that she could help. How could she? This man was severely injured. Only a miracle of life could save him. Faye had no experience of the Force, she barely knew anything about it. What Faye was about to experience would change the course of her life for ever. Faye watched the dark eyed woman place her hands over the dying mans stomach. The Duchess looked up at, who she assumed was just a medic, and placed her hand softly on the woman's back. "w..what are we going to do?"

That's when it happened. The whole atmosphere of the room changed. This...feeling, inside of Faye caused her to not even notice the injuries of the man improving. Everything calmed for Faye. Her crying stopped, a soft and relieving breath escape her lips. It was as if every muscle in her body ceased to be tense, she felt light headed. The Duchess' hand slowly left the rescuers back and landed on the injured mans leg, without her even noticing. Her eyes closed on instinct, she felt warm. And just like that, the injured man's mood also eased. Faye had no idea that she had just had an awakening in the Force.

The serene atmosphere abruptly ended when Faye Malvern spoke out to the young Duchess. Faye turned to the woman, now slumped in a chair, exhausted from being an angel of War. The Duchess turned her whole body around, still on her knees but now facing the dark haired woman. "He's comfortable?....but how...i was sure he was dying" Faye spoke, in her soft melodic and pure voice. She silently looked around for a moment then snapped herself back together. "Forgive my manners. Something odd just hap...sorry i felt funny for a moment there".

Faye returned a soft smile to the woman "Faye? that's my name also! you can call me Duc-" Faye stopped herself before revealing her title. She was proud of being a Duchess, however she did not want seem as if she was parading her rank, when she had done so little. "You can call me Faelyeia if you'd prefer". Faye rose from the ground and sat in the seat directly next to the woman she was talking to. The way she sat screamed noble, upright with hands on her lap. "Unfortunately i did not. He protected me form an explosion. He was brave" Faye's blue eyes fixated on the woman. "Thank you so much for the help. I know it does not guarantee his life, but you have gave him every chance possible. How can i ever repay you?"

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[Kiff Brayde]

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Tags: [member="To'Kola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] [member="A'Runda"] | [member="Tiria Reinhart"] | [member="Keva"]​

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"Thanks for the sentiment, High Marshal. I'll hold you too it," Kiff replied back over the comms with a cheeky grin. Even though he was probably the most perilous situation of his short life thus far, the young High Marshal seemed to be able to find time for a quip. It was good for a morale boost, and Kiff knew what chit-little morale he had, but he also knew that those Warmasters wouldn't die to a jest or light-hearted remark. His pistol in his right hand, he projected a small model of the base from a handheld holoprojector in the cup of his palm, displaying FOB Calypso in a downscaled version. Zooming in with his thumb and finger, he found his location and the coordinates that [member="Voph"] was broadcasting. Not to far away, but it was on the wrong side of the base; where the Warmasters were. Things are about to get a lot more exciting, Kiff thought to himself as he stowed the holoprojector away and set off.

It wasn't long before the echoes, noises and reverberations of explosions began to fade into existence again, the chaos that Kiff had so desperately tried to escape making its return. The earthen walls of the base thundered, dust choking the hallways as loose rock and stone rained down. Light fixtures swung on their wires, and in some places entire chunks of rocks and wiring crashed on the floor, sending up blinding clouds of dust adding to the chaos. And in the distance, one could hear the slow, heavy footsteps of the advancing Warmasters as the mercilessly continued with their domination of the base, killing whatever stood in their path. Kiff swallowed, a hollow pit forming in his stomach. Facing an unbeatable army of killer machines was not on Kiff's to-do list, but the High Marshal reasoned that soon nothing would be on his to-do list if he stood there and let himself get killed.

Kiff hurried along the tunnels as now droids and organics pushed past him in desperate attempts to escape death, coughing as their lungs inhaled the heavy clouds of dust choking the air out of the Confederacy base. It had gotten so terrible that Kiff fumbled around in the pocket of his officer's overcoat before he found it; combat goggles and a respirator, a stock pair that was commonly found in bases and starships in case of a breach in the life support systems. Kiff used his free hand to cram the respirator over his face, not pausing to set down his blaster or stop running. As soon as it was secured over his face, he took a deep breath of clean air, his lungs filling with much needed oxygen. And the goggles meant that he could somewhat see, if you could call an impenetrable orange-brown cloud seeing.

And that was when he saw his first Warmaster. It was crouched down low, some sort of elaborate blade buried deep in the chest of its victim. In the poor lighting and dust, it was nothing more than a menacing shadow, but Kiff's heart started beating frantically when he saw the shadow move, its head turning to look at the High Marshal. A low growl rumbled from the metal creature's throat, the growl turning to a deafening roar as it grabbed its vibroblade and dashed at Kiff. Shielding his face with one hand, Kiff raised his heavy pistol towards the incoming Warmaster and fired -- and to his surprise, that roar turned to a high-pitched yell as the double-barreled pistol found its mark, the Warmaster crashing to the side of the narrow tunnel. Kiff swallowed, in shock as the injured creature slowly spread out its arms to get its footing, and Kiff fired several more times at the beast, creating a melted hole in the Warmaster's head.

Kiff's head pounded as his heart beat unnaturally fast, but now was not the time to stop and consider what had just happened. Swallowing his fear, he began to continue as he jogged through the tunnels, following the map in his head to Voph's coordinates. From the site of the dead Warmaster, it wasn't long before Kiff found the first place in FOB Calypso that wasn't covered in blinding, choking dust. Gods be good, the kriffing High Marshal had actually found a defensible place, a small hangar that seemed pristine compared to the chaotic tunnels. Kiff paused to take a few short, quick breaths before ripping off his respirator and throwing it to the ground. Keying his comm in, he began to talk in short bursts as he still gasped for breath. "I'm at the rendezvous, and those Warmaster bastards aren't invulnerable. Aim for the head," Kiff managed to say before more sounds of the tunnel made him close off the comm. This fight wasn't over yet.

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

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FOB Calypso | Defend, Hunt, & Survive​

[member="To'Kola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] | [member=A'Runda] | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member=Keva] | Open​

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Laughter suddenly echoed up and down the corridor as Voph swore to avenge them if they fell. It wasn't so much the sentiment, as the absurdity of their circumstances. And the fact she wanted to draw the attention of the two Golden Crusaders she found herself behind, thirty feet back. She needed them to stop drawing further away so the blaster she'd sent sliding along the ground to stop at their feet demonstrated its full destructive capability.

The Dauntless pivoted back around the corner before the explosion shook the firmament all around them. Rock split and dirt fell even several meters from the blast. Air and debris had burst down the side channel where Tiria had covered her face with one arm to avoid further bodily harm. With their gold armor a blaster would have taken far too long to engage them; and probably gotten Tiria killed in the effort. Rigging it to explode, however, would suffice.

Voph's coordinates were fresh in her thoughts, and Tiria turned to head that way when the Commando found herself pounded on both sides by pain. Her left hand pressed against the wall as Tiria forced herself back onto her feet. With blurred vision it was difficult to make out clearly, but at least one of the Crusaders had survived it seemed; and from the burn mark on the left side of her armor, she assumed something akin to Force Lightning had sent her into a wall two meters down the hallway. After a cough and spit of blood onto the ground, she smirked at her adversary.

Sith spit.

With a grunt, she lobbed a round grenade toward the towering beast. Tiria didn't stick around to find out if it worked either. Low on weapons, low on ammunition, low on grenades, and barely holding on physically, fighting a Crusader hand-to-hand was down there with diving in a sarlacc pit. She'd taken one on earlier, but exhausting wasn't close to how you felt coming out of that close encounter. And this one liked their Force, which Tiria was severely disadvantaged dealing with on her own. Shame she couldn't Join a Jedi or Sith Master into her Hive yet. Perhaps that potential Gabriel had seen could have been put to good use here.

Tiria booked it down the corridor toward the coordinates to meet up with the rest. If she was lucky there wouldn't be any of these things between her and there.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Objective: Alleviate
Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Tag: [member="Madalena Antares"]

Wh-

Oh. Right.

In the back of Razelle's mind, she'd long since taken into account that there was someone else on this planet that she needed to keep an eye on. Scherezade's sister (or close enough) Madalena was trapped in the same hell-pit that the rest of the planetary Confederate population was. This meant that, whether or not she wanted to, Raz was obliged to keep her safe. If the base fell Scherezade would lose two of the people her life revolved around, not just one. Honestly, though, that was pretty much standard operating procedure for Raz. Her life was rarely the most important thing in any given firefight. It was the primary reason she'd become so very, *very* good at not dying.

Spinning slowly around in her chair to face the Probably-Another-Effing-Sith behind her, the blonde raised an eyebrow and flicked the cherry off her stimstick. "Standard fare," she replied simply. She was fairly sure that she shouldn't be revealing any familial ties. That would just complicate things. "Right now it's pretty chaotic. Being on the defensive usually is."

There was a crackle, and Raz raised a finger in the general expression for 'hold it.' "This is Aurek. Report." Six seconds later, the oldest, least-friendly bird turned back around in her seat and tapped the console some more. "Acknowledged, Cherek. Hold position and maintain surveillance." Another red blip appeared on her console map, and within seconds a similar red blip appeared on the geographic HUD of every battlefield officer hooked up to CISnet. After a moment more of interfacing, she twisted a finger across her headset to change the channel. "All birds, alert. Grek and Herf have sent no report since crossing into enemy territory. Relay any communications with Grek and Herf back to this station."

With that done, she turned back to Madalena and took a slow drag. "I've got eight birds within a kilometer of this chomping at the bit and our forward scouts are non-responsive. Unless your crazy brain magic can hit two agents you've never met who've been trained to hide their minds from people like you at an unknown distance and through distortion, the best thing you can do to help me is keep your soldiers motivated."

As she leaned forward, Razelle took her stimstick out of her lips and rested her elbows on her knees. "First time in a warzone?"

 

[Madalena Antares]

Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Wearing: Obsidian Strike Armor
Wielding: Dyntech Power Staff | Yrkaa Sidearm | Meymad
Nearby: [member="Razelle Breuner"]
Potentially Affected by Battle Meditation: [member="ToKola Bakari"] [member="Voph"] @A'Runda [member="Kaden Farr"] [member="Tiria Reinhart"] [member="Keva"] [member="Asaraa Vaashe"] [member="Faye Malvern"] [member="Safira Varad"] [member="Darth Tacitus"] + Any Force Sensitives I may have missed

While Razelle knew who Madalena was, the same could not be said for Madalena. She had heard her sister on more than one occasion get all excited about meeting her godmother, a woman by the name of Razelle, but there had been no description attached to the excitement and words that flowed, no mention of a specific last name. Unless the woman in the seat told her which Razelle she was, Madalena wouldn't know, and her mind was now on the battlefield, the worry beginning to grow.

While not a Seer as her mother had been, the Sith sorceress nonetheless had a bad feeling inside of her. As though today of all days would be different. As though the events that would unfold were unpreventable, and they would suffer losses that hurt them more than any that they had accumulated in their wars against the Jenari, against the Republic, or against the Mandalorians. It was unsettling.

Looking at the woman, Madalena did her best to keep the worry off her face. No point in making strangers think she was unprofessional. But, she was grateful; the woman spoke of the birds, and she knew what that meant. Her very own sister was one though she pretended to be a Pathfinder for her cover. Madalena as well as her partner in rank had the clearance to know about it.

"Not the first time in a warzone," she said, looking at the screens, hoping to see either Scherezade or ToKola there. She did not. "But the first time here. I'm usually in that chaos, leading the Knights Obsidian."

Sighing, Madalena shook her head. If she would have the choice, she would never sit in the back again. How did Centaris do it? How did the Vicelord do it? It drove her mad, not being able to…

Crazy brain magic.

"I think you're actually on to something though," she said, her expression changing entirely. Whereas a moment ago, someone with Razelle's training at reading people would've easily seen the fretting and worrying, now they shifted to make way for focus. Hyper focus.

"I can hit those who are Force Sensitive," she explained, "all of them." Could she though? She had only attempted this on a much smaller scale in the past. To go now and reach forth to everyone who was there… It would take a lot out of her. There would be a price, for pulling a stunt like that. "Make sure the smoke doesn't reach me. I'm about to do something that's either incredibly genius, or incredibly dumb. But I need my full control for it. There are two Knights Obsidian, Wardens, stationed outside the door – if we get attacked, you are free to command them."

Walking to the edge of the room, Madalena sat herself down on her knees, hands clasped together, and began to focus. She could do it. She had it within her, she knew. The power, the raw ability… It could be done.

Slowly, bit by bit, she began to spread her Force Presence. The first few feet were simple and barely required any thought. But then she began to spread it further and further, remembering the data, remembering what was around them and how far everyone was. It wouldn't be the entire planet, no, only a few kilometers worth of a radius. She could do it. Inch by inch and second by second.

Sweat began to run down her face and back as she did so, but her concentration was complete – if Razelle was saying or doing anything, she was entirely cut off from being aware of it, not when the woman was severed from the Force itself. It was a potential death sentence, if they would now be attacked. But for ToKola and Scherezade, her other half and her sister, as well as the people of th Confederacy, she was willing to risk it.

The first links were easy. In her mind she could see it, an invisible orb that kept growing to encompass them all. On its own, the giant orb would do nothing. But she began to feed it with her power, with her ability. Inside the orb she could see little lights coming to life – her connections with all the Force Sensitives who did not reject what she was trying to do. Those who wished to fight on without the Battle Meditation would need less than a single heart beat to deny it.

She found [member="ToKola Bakari"] first among those that were close to her, and then [member="Scherezade deWinter"]. After those two, the lights began to light quickly. Knights or Mandalorians, Confederates or Allies, she would get all of them safe in her invisible orb. The emotions of battle from those who accepted the temporary bond flew through her; the adrenaline, the fear, the fear of dying or worse. It was all there. She knew it.

Keep the adrenaline, she thought as she began to manipulate the connection, fight! She could not let them die. Some of them would, she knew, and there was nothing she could do to keep that from happening. But she could push wherever she was able to, give them all the boost needed to improve the fight. More stamina. More power. Those who used the Force as they fought would find themselves more powerful with it now, as well as more alert and aware.

How far could she push it? The sweat was pouring harder and harder down her body now, her eyes darting to all directions beneath her closed lids. She could not fight their battles, not where she was. But she could win her own private battle and continue to let the powers flow from her to her peers, her friends, her Knights. Those who knew her, those who had served with or under her, would feel it as well – the care and concern for their wellbeing, all of them.

Fight, Madalena commanded as she continued to pour more energy into the Battle Meditation, fight and live.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Objective: Protect-iate
Location: Comm Station #3, FOB Calypso
Tag: [member="Madalena Antares"]


Well... something was happening. Razelle had always hated mental influence. Even benevolent influence like this was severely uncomfortable, since it was borderline indistinguishable from mind control at anything more than the briefest of glances. Yes, the stupid space wizard was trying to help, clearly, but that didn't mean that everyone she was helping had to like it. There was a pretty good chance Raz was only being affected due to proximity, of course; the moment Madalena started her psychic biz, Razelle was expecting some kind of protest or other distress signal from her agents over comms. Instead, she heard nothing but standard chatter and reports.

Keep her smoke away? Oh yeah. This was definitely Scherezade's kin. With a quiet grumble of combined irritation at the mental invasion, compounded with a quiet grunt of irritation of having to waste her cigarette, the blonde took an aggressive drag of stimulants and threw the butt into a corner of the tent. It was the high she needed, as she always convinced herself. Not the flavor, or the "experience." Hopefully she wouldn't push through too much more of her pack before she got off this stupid planet, or she'd wind up in one hell of a withdrawal stupor.

"Yeah, yeah. I gotcha," she replied quietly, voice gravely with fumes. Back to her console, then. "Esk, report." Another one of the precious few Ravens at her command, Esk, callsign "Eagle," was a former advanced scout for a mercenary company. He was in his element here, unlike most of the rest of the very urbane spies. She'd positioned him as a roamer to ensure he could cover for anyone who might be overwhelmed in a war zone.

<Nothing much, Aurek. Six tangos just took a grenade an' got blown out of the base. Haven't got up yet.> There was a crackling noise, then he continued. <They aren't moving much but they're still alive. Permission to address that?>

Raz noted them on her console, tapped, and sent the update to the battlemap projection. "If you can follow up without giving away your location, permission granted. Keep your heads down out there, people. Until Grek and Herf report back, we have no idea what kind of firepower we'll need to bring to bear to make a difference in this fight." It'd probably be explosives, though. It was always explosives. Basically every problem in any military and most civic situations could be solved with a gratuitous application of boom.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

He was supposed to be leading a team in for the relief effort. That had been the plan, but the Warmasters proved a fiercer for than anticipated. The first wave of reinforcements was literally Dead On Arrival, with downed ships exploding far outside the walls of FOB Calypso. Alkor mainted a neutral expression even as cries of panic and disbelief shot up from behind him.

"Steady," he warned the pilot. The man was rough around the edges, possibly a third or fourth mission pilot who just barely rubbed the green off during the Tanaab incursion. The Mandalorians had proven much less of an enemy than what they were seeing today. The youth barely managed to maneuver out of the line of anti-aircraft fire as it swiveled in their direction, forcing all of the dropship's payload to lurch heavily to one side.

Alkor braced, gritting his teeth. The losses were racking up. Already, one unit of relief fighters was radio silent, and every check in sounded that much less encouraging. "We're not going to be able to land at the base," the pilot called over his shoulder. There is no way I can safely get us through that."

"Land us as close as you feel comfortable," Centaris told him. "We're going to have to punch a hole through them on foot. I'll take these men and-"

"Incoming!"

Brightness.

Heat.

Silence.

Darkness.

When Alkor opened his eyes, the static in his ears clouded his thoughts. He scarcely remembered the impact, but he could see the result. Dropship down, one, maybe two other survivors. They felt distant, and he could sense them fading quickly. He tried to stand, but the pain lit up his body again.

Get up. This is nothing. Do it again.

He grasped at the ashen dirt beneath him, clutching desperately for purchase. "Centaris!" He discerned his name, but the source was indeterminate. "Centaris, report! Your ship was flagged as downed. Are you able to respond?"

"Centaris reporting," he muttered groggily. "Confirming ship down. I am boots on the ground, my team is dust."

"Hold position, we'll send evac-"

"Unnecessary. The Warmarshall requires reinforcements. I will not relent."

"Sir, with all due respect-"

"I will continue as planned," Alkor snapped. He could feel the anger bubbling, and for the first time in his life, he did not want to fight it back or push it down. He wanted to embrace it, and to let the hellfire burning deep inside him actually burn something. He had control-

But he wanted to destroy.

"I will send word to FOB Calypso to expect you."

Alkor grunted in response.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

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Objective: Fight | Tag: [member="Thalliesin Bard"] [member="Voph"] @A'Runda [member="Tiria Reinhart"] [member="Kiff Brayde"] [member="Keva"] [member="Madalena Antares"] | Post: III​

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Blood dripped down from To'Kola's fist in a steady stream. Klaxons rang out around the man but he could scarcely hear them. The warriors who stood before him, three total, were poised as predators eyeing their prey. The sound of their vibroblades was all the man could hear. They had a subtle hum to them, one that was nearly hypnotic to the man who stood exhausted. He had no moment to rest. One of the warriors charged forward, bringing his vibrosword up in a vicious slash. To'Kola brought his spear up, swinging his body to the side. He was able to bat the vibrosword away from him, however in the next moment the man felt his right shoulder grow hot with pain. To'Kola screamed out, looking to see the warrior behind him that had run his blade across the back of his shoulder. In a rage of pain, the War Marshal clenched his fist tight, ramming it into the side of one of the warrior's head.

His leg shot back, slamming into the chest of the other warrior. Both of the golden warriors were pushed back, recoiling from the weight of To'Kola's attack. The moment of victory was brief, in the next moment both of the men had fallen back upon him. Each of their Vibroblads were bared against him. With his right hand, To'Kola used his spear to guard against one of the men and his left hand extended out to the warrior on his left. The Force flowed from his palm, wrapping around the behemoth's hand and pausing his attack. Keeping the men at bay was not simple, the exertion in the Force alone was a drain on his stamina.

The sound of metal slamming into the hard surface below. The charging warrior slammed into To'Kola, ripping him from his defensive stance and slamming his back into the ground. The Sandali warrior yelled out, pulling the Force into his hands. He slammed his hands into the man's chest and a mighty repulse rang out. The warmaster was thrown off of the War Marshal. He flew a few feet from To'Kola, slamming into the ground beside the other warriors.

To'Kola kicked his leg out while pushing off of the ground, allowing him to move into a three-point stance. What he saw forced pause. He could see the droids, being dismantled by the Golden warriors. They cut through the soldiers as if they were no more than butter. The main gate had long since been overrun and it seemed the golden warriors were now receiving reinforcements. The inner wall had fallen.

"Fall back! Fall back!" To'Kola screamed out, watching as the surviving soldiers worked to bring themselves back into a line. They rallied around their War Marshal, moving back out of the main atrium and towards the tunnels behind them. Their blaster power was enough to hold the golden warriors back, but not for long. To'Kola turned, waving his hands back at his men.

"Go! Go now!" The men turned, running down the hall, moving deeper into the FOB. "Go! The base has fallen, escape! Escape you fools!" He yelled. With the blaster fire fading, the golden warriors were able to press their attack. And soon they would overrun To'Kola and move into the rest of the tunnels. It was in that moment that To'Kola felt the wind flow back into his chest, he felt his muscles tighten and expand, and even his wounds began to knit themselves back together at a faster rate. Power flowed into the man and he knew it's source, [member="Madalena Antares"].

The man turned, his eyes gazing at the warriors. "Thank you, my Yua." He muttered, as his crimson eyes began to mist a emerald hue. His grip tightened around the warspear as he turned back to the tunnels where his men were escaping. "You will not take them." He said, stepping back towards the tunnels as he was pressed by the warriors.

"You will not take them!" He declared, before slamming his foot into the ground. He brought his arms up, his muscles tightening as a single explosion from the force came out. He sent a powerful repulse into the ceiling of the tunnels. The repulse echoed throughout the tunnels and in the next moment the rubble began to fall. It crowded the tunnels, sealing the exit behind To'Kola. He had made sure his men had escaped, made sure they could fall back, but in doing so he had sealed himself at the gate, and he was going to be surrounded very soon.

 

[Faye Malvern]

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Location: Rugosa | Objective: Evacuate | [member=Faye Irithiel] ​

'As comfortable as I can make him.' Faye spoke with a nod. Her healing powers only extended so far, the last time she had used them it had been entirely an accident, to save someone she couldn't have lived without. But before she could get lost in the downward spiral of that line of thought, the woman spoke again.

'Funny, how?' Faye's brows furrowed softly in the centre, face a perfect picture of concern. She had simply assumed she was on her knees on the floor because of the dying soldier, not because she was injured. Her ebony eyes travelled quickly over the woman's dishevelled attire, but it was hard to tell if the blood that stained it was her own or the soldiers. Still, she couldn't see any open wounds and she didn't seem to be in any pain. 'Are you alright?' Emotionally, she was feeling everything Faye would have expected a young woman to feel in the middle of war. In fact, they were almost a perfect reflection of her own hectic emotions.

When the subject of her name arose, Faye mirrored her grin.

'Oh really?' Faye was just about to comment on how unusual the name was, but that it wasn't really her name, when the other Faye began to say the exact same thing. She couldn't help but let out a soft laugh and, though the bell like tones had no place amidst the madness of war, it brought some life back to her tired eyes. 'Faelyeia is such a beautiful name. In that case you can call me Francesca, considering Faye and Faye will get a little confusing.' Faye's eyes watched closely as Faelyeia stood from the ground and sat on the chair next to her. The way she moved settled any doubt in Faye's mind that she was injured.

'You can't really put a price on life.' Faye offered the auburn haired woman a soft smile, her birdlike tone teasing gently. 'By saving you and being here to fight for the Confederacy he has done us a great favour. The least I could do was give him a fighting chance.' What she didn't voice was the sheer, yet selfish, relief she felt as the icy hand of death began to release its clutch on her spine, finger by finger. The chill still remained, for the solider wasn't out of danger just yet, but it eased enough to give the empath room to breathe. 'What brings you here anyway?' The change of subject would be a welcome one. She still didn't feel quite up to the task of returning to her work, so for now idle conversation would have to suffice. 'If you don't mind me saying, neither of us seem to really belong here.'

Faye shared a rather sheepish smile with Faelyeia, as though it was some great secret that the stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the dauntless and the knights. Now feeling a might more relaxed and less pressured than a few minutes ago, the heavily armoured Minister lent forward in her seat a fraction of an inch to closer inspect the auburn beauty's features. Something about her face seemed to turn a light on in Faye's mind, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. 'You seem awfully familiar. Have we-...'

A wave of untamed force crashed through the tent, enveloping it in a bubble of raw power. It drew energy back into Faye quicker than a shot of straight adrenaline. The raven haired woman sat upright in her chair, eyes widening with the sudden boost of force that coursed through her veins. Battle meditation was a rare and wonderful gift, and Faye had never been exposed to it before, but perhaps that was a good thing. In this bubble, in this shield that Madalena had placed over the entire battlefield, Faye could feel everything.

Everything.

 

[Thalliesin Bard]

"Thooom…" ​

As Thalliesin, Garo and Gorgona charged into the Golden Horde They saw a man that Thalliesin believed was the war-marshal,​

raise his arms and bring down the entrance to the tunnel behind him.​

Thalliesin was livid.
"That...was not part of my plan."​

Thalliesin dove into the Golden warriors swinging his mace at their vibroblades​

"THAT. WAS. NOT. PART. OF. MY. PLAN."​

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"Argggrgga."​

Gorgona and Garo went around behind the golden horde dealing with Thalliesin​

and started firing their bowcastors into their joints hoping that their armor was weak there.​

​

Well at the very least it got their attention two of the six warriors started walking towards the wookiee twins.​

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"Oh no, I'm not done with you yet"​

Thalliesin charged up onto the back of one of the Golden warriors and started hammering away at his face.​

the Golden warrior grabbed Thalliesin off of his back and through him against the wall...​

Thalliesin hit with a sickening thud and then lay motionless in the rubble.​

But his hammering had not been in vain...Gorgona looked at the Warrior still coming at her.​

his helmet had been cracked open... it was a small crack but gorgona leveled her bowcastor.​

………..​

The Warrior teetered for a few seconds and then fell, dead, onto the ground.​

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[member="ToKola Bakari"]​

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[Kyyrk]

LOCATION: FOB Calypso​

STATUS: Alive​

OBJECTIVE: Hold out for Reinforcements​

TAGS: @To'Kola Bakari | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Tiria Reinhart"] | @A'Runda​

​

Voph had found a moment of peace. It had taken time, but he had found his way to the hanger, where the Confederate Soldiers would make their final stand. He'd found a small gathering of soldiers along the way, bringing them with him to the Hanger. They were tasked with one job. Hold the line. People were converging on the hanger, Confederate and crusader alike. Voph needed time to prepare. There wasn't much in the hanger, but he intended to use it to the fullest capacity. "Move those crates to reinforce that door. Take cover, funnel them through the main tunnel. Keep side and maintenance tunnels open for our people to use. Once the crusade arrives, our people will be cut off through the main tunnels." Voph placed a hand on the shoulder of the highest ranked soldier in the room. "You have command. I must prepare myself." The soldier nodded and set about continuing Voph's orders, following the theme of barricading themselves in the hanger.

Voph meanwhile had retreated to a quiet corner. He knelt down, placing his lightsabers in front of him. He knew this ritual well. He had used it many times. An ancient Sith art used by only the most fearless of combatants. His head bowed, and his hands lifted towards the sky for a moment, palms raised. "Satkari ki Waria anas Nu kiha niati. Satkari ki Tutsatsa anas Nu kiha sûrsyiyi. Satkari ki Midwan anas ri drasosûtâona tqi tina arsia ki." The chant was quiet and melodious. A prayer of sorts. And yet as he spoke the words, Voph felt something stir within his chest. Something begging to be let out. Voph let his hands return to his lap for a moment, then his right hand rose to his cheek. He began to draw his finger across his scarred face, the Force leaving visible marks upon it. Glyphs. The rest of the incantation, which he spoke as he drew. "Duroki sas Jina'tis. Titnirja ir Nikisosûti. Sosûtudisinir iw Kanasazi. Mirsius iw Waria."

Voph fell silent as the final words were spoken, and his hands returned to his lap. His mind was clear. A fire raged within his chest. He stood, taking both of his blades, and turning them to lock at the hilts, fusing into a single saber staff. As twin blades hissed to life, Voph pulled his left hand to his face, pausing for a moment, then pushing it away and down to his side. Darkness began to seep from his being, as the ward fell into place around him. A soft glow began to emanate from behind his mantle, where his eyes would have been. And as he drew a deep breath, he felt the effects of Madelena's Battle Meditation began to take him. The Effects of his own Valor would be felt through the room. The sight of his last stand. The Crusade was at the door. And as lightning coursed down the twin blades of Voph's saberstaff, Voph smiled. Darth Voph he had been known. And Darth Voph he would be known as again. The Darkness was his ally. The Darkness was his friend.

The darkness was his weapon, and the Crusade was about to discover how to use it.

​

 

[Alkor Centaris]

The walls shuddered, and the gates groaned. Ahead of him, the behemoth fortress dubbed Forward Operating Base Calypso was a Confederate Fortification in every sense of the title: they strengthened the walls and built up the troop contingent, manned it with competent leaders, and left it to operate autonomously. When came the Warmasters, they sent in the leader of the CDF to coordinate the defensive effort personally.

Yet belief was suspended before his eyes as the siege broke through, and the monstrous beings poured inward. Screams of ecstasy and of horror rose up from within the base, sounds of carnage and visceral merriment as metal met bone, organs came free, and blood splashed the walls. He could taste their deaths in his mouth, their futility was ash on his tongue. His anger frothed over and gave rise to the hatred, so eager to be set free.

He moved through the mountainous region like a man possessed. The pain in his body wracked his thoughts with doubt, cast aside as the need for satisfaction outweighed his drive to survive. Already he had failed in his duty to protect so many lives. Already he had failed to lead, because there were those who would never follow him- whether because of who he was, or because he was truly unworthy did not matter.

He would not fail in the one thing he was good at.

The rear guard leveled his blaster at Alkor, like any good solider ought. "Lay down your weapons or be prepared to lay down your life," came the hoarse, mechanical command. To be expected. Armored, automated, disciplined. Even the sight of a half burnt, bloodied, enraged man gave the soldier pause.

The darkness that enveloped his arm, however, drew some attention. "I said to stop-" Alkor shifted for a split second, and all the colors that made him up spilled over the world like paint on canvas, blurring together as he converged on his target.

Shots fired.

Two more glanced back. They recognized he was engaged, but they had orders. The outer wall had fallen. Press on. "Should we engage?" one asked.

"He should be fine," the other replied.

The rifle went off thrice more before it clattered to the dirt. Alkor had wrestled the soldier to the dirt and disarmed him in the flurry of movements that closed the distance between them, but the man was still much larger, heavier, and stronger. Even with a moment's surprise, Alkor had gained no advantage.

The behemoth punched him, a forceful hit to the jaw that rang in both of the Corellian's ears. Alkor pinned his knees on either side of the man's torso, nailing him down. Fists, even though he had no advantage in that fight. Another swing spun his entire world.

Alkor snarled as he worked his thumb under the helmet, and the crazed expression mutated into vicious triumph as the metal gave way to a bodyglove, something much less resistant. He shook off another powerful punch, spitting out and coughing blood even as he pressed his right wrist firmly to the Warmaster's throat.

Shiiiiing!

The blade ejected cleanly from his wrist and drove deep, burying itself in the jugular vein and breaching bone. A slurping sound came before the body spasmed, then went limp. Warm fluid pooled beneath the corpse, and Alkor remained atop his victim for much longer than he intended.

He stared, hard, into the unseeing eyes of his adversary. He looked for satisfaction there, some hint that fear or recognition of fate existed, just before the end came.

Nothing.

What answer are you looking for?

He stood, shakily, and trudged toward the Base, where the Warmasters had already begun to filter in, short a single man. Alkor was hardly the reinforcement they needed alone- but that hardly mattered. Failure was no longer an option. Not now.

Not ever again.

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

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FOB Calypso | Defend, Hunt, & Survive​

[member="ToKola Bakari"] | [member="Voph"] | @A'Runda | [member="Kiff Brayde"] | [member="Keva"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | Open​

​

Every step was a lifetime. Each breath possibly her last. The Golden Crusade was relentless and to that Reinhart could praise them as a foe. Blasters, blades, and the Force tore apart every tunnel, every body that came before their putrid gaze.

The Dauntless Commando leaned against the wall for a moment. Her chest rose and fell with a steady pace to refuel her blood and muscles from the exertion of the warpath Tiria had taken. A strange sense came come over her not that long ago, and with it much needed rejuvenation. Even The Hive's influence over this shell's state could only contribute so much so quickly. With another seemingly joining in far closer the effect had sealed a number of bleeding wounds. One of which had covered the right side of her face with now dried blood.

Twin furnaces of unfiltered stars shone in Tiria's eyes as she righted herself in the corridor. Yet another retrieved blade off the fallen was held securely in her hand; her fingers wrapped about it securely.

Wherever the rejuvenation came from also carried with it a sense of togetherness. Not nearly as strong as the one Tiria shared with those in her Hive, but near enough. There were no words or imagery that came to her, only a sense of impending danger, isolation, and being far from where the rest had been summoned to gather. It seemed to come from the fore of the base, which she assumed would have been flooded with the enemy by now. They could not leave one of their own behind even, not even if she had to wade through the golden sea that endlessly crashed against the walls of their fortification.

In. Out. In. Out. In...

A soft grinding of dirt beneath her boots echoed in the corridor before Tiria burst from the side of the atrium.

Both boots slammed into the chest of one of the monstrosities that stormed the base as it turned toward her. They both went down, but Tiria managed to rolled back up to her feet without delay. One quick strike knocked a rifle aside, and another swift blow severed the hand that held it aloft. Without waiting for its counter she stepped into reach and slammed the point of the blade through its armpit and toward the opposite side of its neck.

Her hands plucked the hefty weapon from the ground and sought to bring it to bear when an all too familiar sensation took hold.

Fortunately, the Commando managed to don a broken helmet some time ago as the Force Push slammed her against the far wall not far from where the War Marshall stood. Tiria's legs bent, but did not buckle. A single shot sniped one in the head before another Pulled and then slammed Tiria back into the wall a second time.

One knee buckled, but after a moment Tiria began to rise. If they wanted to put an end to her they'd have to do better than that, the quick impression skittered across her mind. As she took her stance, shoulders slumped slightly from the constant barrage of abuse this day, each breath steady but ragged, the blaster lifted once more. In that moment a strange sense of clarity seemed to fall over her. An understanding. With it, the Commando's finger rapidly pulled on the trigger as the barrel shifted ever so slightly side to side at the Golden horde that advanced upon them; each blast a face full of what they thought of these Crusaders and whoever or whatever was behind them. If they wanted this base, they would pay for it in blood.

Tiria let out a roar of defiance and rage of a creature trapped on its broken world that bore witness to another that would do the same to this one. They would all pay. They would all suffer. They would all die.

 

[Kaden Farr]

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w. [member="Daisy Americus"] | [member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Asaraa Vaashe"]​

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The calamity around them was more than most could handle. War was something which made many stomachs churn, but there was one thing which seemed to make stomachs turn worse. Blood and Injury. Kaden had a stomach for all of it. His first experience with battle wounds was at the age of 10. @Preliat Manits had lost his arm in battle, and Kaden helped to cauterize the wound. The stomach for war and death had been developed early, and only grown through his time in the Netherworld. Kaden looked around and he could tell who the green medic were, and the green soldiers. A sigh escaped his lips as he watched a few of them throw up on the ground at few of the more gruesome cases. Walking past them, Kaden shook his head as he walked passed them.

"Suck it up and let's move on."

Kaden heard the sound of boots coming alongside him as he sensed something in the force which was unique to him. It was clean, light. His head turned toward the direction of the feeling, and his eyes fell on the Jedi which had joined the group. Was there room for one more? Kaden nodded.

"You can either help with Triage, or you can help defend the medics. Either way we could use all the help we can get."

When Scherezade mentioned she was ready, Kaden nodded. The landing zone was attracting the attention of the enemy, and as a result Kaden readied his twin pistols. Anyone who tried to attack the medical teams or the landing zone was going to regret it wholeheartedly. While there was part of Kaden who saw this a humanitarian opportunity, he also saw this as a way to collect what his mother needed. She was still wandering about looking for freedom as far as he knew, and while Scherezade had warned him about the woman, Kaden's loyalty was to her. The only person who might be able to persuade Kaden to abandon the dark woman entirely would be the one person who had broken through the beskar lining of Kaden's heart, [member="Daisy Americus"].

Kaden loved her, and he knew it. Had he told her yet, no. Taanab had put things into perspective, and while his words had not said as much, Kaden's actions when he was with Daisy practically screamed that he was in love with her. There was nothing he would not do for her.

His attention focused back toward the task at hand. There were enemies to kill, and souls to capture. Scherezade was with him, and they knew what to do, so with that, Kaden decided he was going to engage the enemy while the other tended to the wounded and the evacuations.

"Everyone not tending to the wounded or the evacuation on me... lay down some cover fire and take out as many of the enemy as you can."