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Eisahn had taken to shuffling his cards as they waited with the rest of the commandos present for the Grand Marshal to give them more specific orders. Where had the contacts been? Who was going where? Details like that. Many a rookie, even a seasoned gun who tended to compensate his nerves with a happy trigger, would have been happy hodgepodging tactics as they went, but that wasn't only the path to a court martial, it was the battle plan of a loss. The Private wasn't part of either camp; he wasn't even particularly nervous, Typhan knew of his brother. He was simply warming up.
Even so, another Omega member playfully shoved the man's head. "Stop thatttt..."
A chuckle rippled through the squad's rank, even affecting some outsiders grouped around Omega. It dies off just as the room stilled, and as it did Eisahn finally, slowly stowed the deck in his utility belt.
Typhan rose to metaphorically stand upon the solid foundation that was Haastal's new orders. He shown a bright, toothy grin of his own, charming if not a a little shebbs-eating, at Safira Haran
as he led Omegas out of the war room. "Cut those pinkies off the hand - aye, ma'am," was his delayed reply to her question about kicking ass before he passed into a warehouse hall. He began double timea nd they were out into the wee hours of the morning soon enough. From here on out until first contact, Omega would be adhering to radio silence. Holding up his gauntleted comm, he made a show of silencing it, sound and color all, and motioned the squad to do the same.
By account of his pedometer, Omega had marched about half a kilometer before the crisp pre-dawn air stirred. Typhan held up his hand, signalling a stop, as he tried to identify the source and thus address the threat. Too early for birdsong, he though as the the music slowly swelled. But then, he spotted the figure of a man...swaying his arms along with the tune. What was he doing?! Conducting? Having a seizure? Yes, please.
Either way, he didn't seem to have acknowledged them, as he was facing the other way. Typhan waved his squadmates into cover beside the avenue before joining them behind a road rail. Staff Sergeant Dyarron gravitated to the officer's side and asked in hushed volume, "Drill?"
"One A," he whispered, throwing his gaze down the cobbled gradual hill. A squad attack with three groups was their best play, but before they executed in entirety, Typhan wanted a headcount of hostiles. Maybe they'd get lucky and just face that one, but, one way or another, Omega never got lucky. It was that priceless reputation, I'm telling ya.
Wordlessly, he sent a woman across to the left side of the street. One of the privates scanned the covered areas down the way for any of mystery man's buddies, but she eventually shook her head that there were none. Typhan looked from his vantage point again, checking first yonder privates' blind spots. Likewise, no backup for the prom king, but then a datapad caught the senior commando's attention. It was placed on the barricade he was planning on advancing five Omegas up towards. He was able to understand it in a moment as the source of the nearby opera, as well as a possible IED.
Waving Fengris over, he pointed out the target and simulated a blast with a fingergun. Fengris nodded understanding before falling back in line. He, Kaal and Slahlvo ahead of him, as well as Eisahn and Rhane behind him - altogether making five - were numbered off silently on Berrezz's hands. Suppression group. Another two names made the right flank group. Typhan and Dyarron made flank left after hurrying across the avenue to group with the scout already there. Only then did Typhan activate his comm, shielding the outer side with his hand, to project all light and muted sound towards him and not into the greater environment. "Advise Command, Omega's engaging on CDC Avenue, half klick from home."
Etiquette taken care of, he shut off communications again. The only surprise on this road today would be him.
Silent hand motions had never felt quite so vocal when the suppression group was let loose. Blaster fire flooded from their various weapons almost instantly upon standing and taking the the main road.
Sasmay had done little more than follow behind Domino as she led the way, letting the Twi'lek take the shots on their enemies. Most everything she had would alert anyone easily enough with the snap of the heavy weapons being fairly clear. The information of walkers unclear, and troubling. "Assume the worst. They are probably hanging out and patrolling." She whispered back, eyes running up and down the alley. The sensor jam was made clear on the helmet some time ago and she had frowned. The thought still lingered as she thought on their next move while Domino laid out a map. No comms was going to be annoying, but they could work around it.
"Stay in visual range. With comms down, I don't feel like either of us accidentally abandoning one another." Domino laid out the plan, or at least Sasmay thought it was laying one out until it became more of a question. She pondered for a second, they couldn't contact anyone else in their area, and she was beginning to get a bad feeling about this whole thing.
"I think that will work for now. We can change tactics when we see what the gate looks like. Somehow I don't think any of them are looking to retreat, and I don't want to get caught front and back. We can at least monitor the gate, and at best take control of it." Sasmay peered back and forth before looking at the map again, orienting herself and checking her hud map.
"Let's get this knocked out and move. Sounds like some awfully big flies in the air..." There was something stirring up the wind inside the dome, a cutting sound that echoed throughout the void of the covered city lacking any civilians to cover the noise. Pulling the R12 sling over her shoulder, she produced one of the hand cannons, pulling the chamber open to see which one she had in her hand. She popped it back into place, checking the secondary loadout and spying the ion tag round inside.
She couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face when she heard the voice crackling over her radio. She’d told him that they’d be going to evacuating the planet as part of a response to the Agent’s latest attack upon the Confederacy. Clearing the innocent civilians out of harms way before the agents could arrive and bring more chaos and death to those who hadn’t asked them to come.
The pink-haired Jedi only had to close her eyes to see it again. The wreckage left in the wake of the Lylek rampage, to see how they had cut through the civilians who only wanted to get to safety. Who had looked to her for protection, to see them safely across the city. It hadn’t been far, just across a few city blocks. It should have been easy, should have been a walk in the park for a Jedi Master to get them there.
One more failure to carry on her shoulders. More ghosts to carry with her. At some point the ghosts of her past would overwhelm her, at some point the weight of the failures would leave nothing behind. For now though, all she could do was what she always did. Throw herself into the next mission, the next group who needed her. The next fight and try to do better.
This time, this time they’d learned the lessons about what was to come. What might be unleashed by the Agents who claimed to be responding to the will of the people in freeing them. A people who hadn’t asked for it. A people who had been happy until that message had been broadcast across the airwaves. They’d seen what had happened on Ryloth, had seen the cruelty of the Agents who had failed to lift a single finger to help those caught in trouble, had failed to help as innocents were dying. It was the basic truth of war. The innocents were the ones who would suffer.
They looked to the Confederacy to protect them.
And the Confederacy had answered.
It had been the biggest humanitarian operation she’d ever seen, the biggest refugee operation she’d ever heard of. Over the course of a few days, they’d managed to lift the entire population of the planet and ship them to the surrounding worlds. They’d cleared them out of harms way, leaving an empty planet. But, that was a little worse.
The planet that was supposed to be alive, glowing with the energy of its population, of the people who had made it home. But they were gone. It felt wrong, the force echoed through the empty homes, carrying with it the barest glimpse of memories, of the emotions of the people who had lived here. It was like standing in the middle of a ghost town. If Asaraa closed her eyes and reached out through the force she could still feel the Rodians around her, the fear and anger that had characterised their last few moments on the planet. The Jedi could understand their anger. The unthinking, unrelenting hubris of the terrorists who’d arrived on the planet had forced them away from their homes. Who knew what they’d come back to.
But they were safe.
The mechanical tramp of droid feet around her made it worse. They didn’t belong. The battle droids that made up the bulk of the Confederacy forces deployed to the planet didn’t belong here. In a place of peace, there should have been the sound of children’s laughter and the sound of their parents chasing after them. The streets should be filled with colour and happiness. Not the cold sound of droids marching and the eponymous cry of “Roger Roger” that echoed through the empty streets.
This was the face of the war. This is what the Confederacy had to do to protect their citizens from the terror that the Agents would bring with them. This was how they prevented any more blood.
And it had been exhausting.
Asaraa knew she hadn’t slept for days, drawing on the force to keep herself moving, to stave off the need for rest. She’d looked at herself in the mirror earlier, seen the bags under her eyes and the pale drawn face looking back at her. Only…she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t rest while there had been one Rodian on the planet. Couldn’t stop now, not till the terrorists who thought they knew better than the citizens of the planet had been brought to justice.
A delicate hand reached out to steady herself against the wall, commlink rising to her lips as a soft trembling voice spoke.
“Cae…I’m somewhere in the city, near the factory district. The worker's houses. Come find me….please?”
She couldn’t stop, she couldn’t rest but…he’d find her. He had to.
Just for a moment, a minute. The ghosts that haunted her could give her that much right? Just a moment with him, feeling his arms around her. Just a minute where his steady presence could drown out the guilt and the dead. Just a moment when she could relax.
The sound of fighters, of gunships and transports overhead pulled her attention up as she let her blue eyes drift towards the sky. Watching the Confederacy ships racing overhead as she reached out to the force, letting that energy wash through her. It didn’t get rid of the bone-weary tiredness that accompanied her, but for a time it would push it back to the fringes. For a time it would let her continue.
She could already feel it, the death, the destruction that they’d known was coming as the terrorists unleashed their fury on the Confederacy forces.
Now though, now there were no civilians for them to use as shields, to be caught up in the middle of this fight.
Today the Confederacy would answer. Today the Ghosts of Ryloth would be put at peace as the terrorists were finally brought to justice to pay for what they had unleashed.
Today she would stop them from hurting anyone else.
Boots crunched on the ground as the Jedi’s split-skirt swirled around her legs, her footsteps taking her towards the feeling of death and destruction.
“Cae…I’m somewhere in the city, near the factory district.
The worker's houses. Come find me….please?”.
Their duties had set them apart for quite a time now, Caedyn and Asaraa Vaashe having only seen each other once in Force knows how many months as he served within the Order of the Silver Jedi once again, and she with the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Caedyn's Father had been wary about the Confederacy for many of the same reasons that other Jedi were when concerning the Sith Leadership, yet the Alliance that had been maintained for so long between them and the Silver Jedi had ensured peace between followers of the Light and the Dark Side of the Force, something that was rarely seen since the ageless feud that now took the shape of Jedi vs Sith, had first begun.
People instinctively feared the things they failed to understand or could not comprehend. One of the best deterrents to War, one least destructive, was seeking diplomacy with others, especially those with opposing views when possible. Part of being a Jedi meant doing what it took to preserving the peace and keeping personal bias out of their dedication to the protection of Life and honoring the Will of the Force.
The Confederacy and the Order of the Silver Jedi did this in a way that some wished not to see. That was at-least, until all Alliances were called off officially. Friendships, loyalty and respect however weren't something that required documentation..
"I'm moving as quickly as I can" Caedyn responded, the Helm of his armor equipped with communications equipment and audio sensors, as well as enhanced optics; Meaning that he would hopefully hear anyone on approach before coming into line of sight with them. Aiding him in his sprint through the barren and lifeless City street, the strength enhancement system kept pace with minimal stress for the time being.
The Heads Up Display over the screen of his visor pinged with Asaraa's coordinates, also showing Caedyn's on biometrics as he leapt across a derelict speeder, his jump servos aiding him in clearing the vehicle entirely and landing somewhat uneasily however keeping his footing en-route to her. The Armor was really paying off, although encountering hostiles would truly put it to a test.
With the aid of the Force to elevate his momentum beyond natural limits, and the lack of company to slow him down, Caedyn was covering a lot of ground in a swift amount of time. It was however strange not to have come across others, Rodia not being like most warzones in thanks to the Confederacy having removed the planet of civilian life. Anyone that he might come across would quickly be identified as friend or foe, depending on whether they shot at him or not, yet the fact that there would be no collateral brought the Jedi Knight some great sense of relief.
"I'm nearly there Asa, incoming from your west. If you've got friendlies with you, please call them off. I'm wearing a full armored getup...-Believe it or not. It's light, so you'll know me when you see me.." he informed her, sounding somewhat apprehensive. It was certainly a far cry from his typical Jedi garments.
War. It was what soldiers were made for. In this instance, Ares had been crafted by it. Much of his life had been spent defending Coruscant from the brutal violence of the Sith in whatever form they took in the galaxy. It seemed that no matter what group would rise up to defeat them the head of the snake would always peer up from whatever hole in the ground it found to hide in. They always came back, and they always returned stronger, more violent.
Such was the irony where Ares found himself now. The Confederacy of Independent Systems was led by a Sith, many of their force users held to some form of Sith philosophy, and yet they were different. Ares could not explain, but he knew the CIS held the same values he did. It was the reason why he was with them in the first place, that and the SCP unit he had been hired to protect was no longer active. Freelance mercenary work was no longer something that he enjoyed, but running a unit that housed and contained dark secrets that would be deadly in the wrong hands, that was more his style now.
War was simply the constant drum beating in the background of everything he did. Which was why when the CIS found it coming to their own doorstep, Ares was not surprised. He wished he could have said he was, that no one would dare to take on such a giant, however he also once read of a teenaged shepherd boy defeating a nine foot nine inch giant with nothing but a sling and a stone. True or not, it was possible, even if unlikely.
Ares wanted nothing to do with this fight. It was not the Blackwing Virus, or the live victim he had been sent to contain. This was an annoying gnat of a faction that was only fit to die by the loud and snapping fwap of a fly swatter. Had it not been for the signal which had been triggered on Talay from a communications relay those without authorized clearance were supposed to know about, Ares would not have been mobilized.
Did the base contain state secrets? The answer to that question depended on who was asking. The fact Ares had been deployed to the scene was a telling sign. He was used to moving out at a moment’s notice, and being assigned random partners that would help him in the areas he was not skilled in. Today he found himself with a replicant droid, fitting in case they needed to slice their way into top secret systems. Ares' job was two-fold, to make the base go silent, and ensure its secrets were not compromised.
These jobs always looked easy on the datapad when the orders came through, but very rarely played out that way.
Ares sighed as he began to rub his left shoulder.
“There is a pressure system moving in,” he said to the droid he was seated next to on the dropship.
The mechanical arm which Ares had gotten after losing his left arm fifteen years ago often was uncomfortable where everything connected to the rest of him. Changing weather patterns and drops in barometric pressure often aggravated him. It would not prevent him from doing his job. The soldier had compensated for it along ago, but the ache was there regardless. At least he was more like his partner this time around than what the naked eye could see, especially when he was wearing his armor. His helmet rest on the bench next to him, ready for him to put on when the time came to land.
< “We are nearing the evac point. No sign of enemy activity.” >
That was good it seemed. At least this faction of terrorists, slavers, and murderers, did not seem interested in procuring a very enticing potential bounty of information about the CIS which would make for actual effective propaganda. The sheer stupidity of the amount of twisting and editing the Agents of Chaos had to do in order to make their narrative about the Confederacy work was mind boggling. No mind was flexible enough to perform the mental gymnastics required for such a thing. Killing any of them that got in his way was not going to be hard. Part of him thought the act would be one of mercy.
“Time to go,” Ares said, looking at the replicant. “The signal is the first priority, but… there are secrets about this base we don’t want getting out. This won’t be as easy as it looks on paper.”
Ares stood and secured his helmet, hiding the blue eyes which were as clear as the water of the oceanic world. A soft thud could be felt underfoot as the drop ship landed. Some would find his demeanor cold, lacking empathy. As Ares secured the final latch to his helmet, he wondered if working with the replicant would give him the freedom to be himself. He had no desire to apologize because he came across as uncaring for someone’s feelings. This was war, and war didn’t care about feelings.
The soldier wasted no time in moving down the ramp. He was always the first one off and the last on. It was the nature of a leader, and that part of him was not about to change anytime soon. His visual scans confirmed what the initial report from the pilot’s scans had indicated. There seemed to be no hostile activity.
<<< “There should be others on their way if they are not here already. Let’s secure a landing zone then find out where this blasted signal is coming from.” >>>
It was surprising how fast a civil game of Sabacc could denigrate into a full-out fight.
"Fifteen. I raise it by fifteen."
"Feth that. You don't even have fifteen to put in."
"I'm a High Marshal. I have enough credits to raise it by however much I want."
"I don't see any chips on the table, so unless you want to show me those fething three extra chips, you're out of the round."
"To Malachor with that. I'm raising it by twenty."
"Are you two going to continue your bickering, or can we continue our game?" Jol's stern voice cut through and Verryk's heated argument. The two sat down with the feel of two fighting children being told off by a parent, obligingly but only just so. Sulking, Kiff turned around to an unmade bed and grabbed a small wallet out of a personal drawer, unfolding it and procuring the necessary credits.
"Here they are, happy?" He asked, slapping it down on the table to the unapproving glare of Jol's steady gaze. "Sorry," he added, not looking at either Verryk or Jol in a rare moment of humility, but luckily the two decided to leave it at that. "Now," Kiff continued at last, "I raise it by twenty," he said in exaggeration as he pushed twenty individual chips, one-by-one, into the pot.
Verryk raised his hands in mock protest, but the matter had been settled. At the very least, the comms officer knew that more credits in the game meant more that he could potentially win. The man's black eyes followed intently as Kiff's hands shook and rolled the spike dice, watching them bounce on the cold metal surface of the table. The dice rattled for a second before settling, the green double spikes shining clearly from their final resting space -- all cards would be discarded and replaced. Even Jol groaned in displeasure.
A sudden ping on Kiff's personal comlink interrupted their gameplay, and Kiff brushed past the sleeve of his naval flight jacket to open the transmission. The words were simple and succinct -- "Hostiles at Talay." Kiff didn't read out loud the message, but when he looked up Verryk and Jol seemed to already know; both of their faces were suddenly solemn with the impending thought of battle. "We'll pick this back up when it's all over," Jol said with finality, nodding as the three stood up and began to make their way to the command bridge.
The walk between Kiff's personal quarters and the bridge of the Victator was thankfully short. It had been an admittedly long time since the High marshal had been in command of his own flagship; the aging Invictus-class battlecruiser had spent several months at the drydock undergoing extensive renovations and repairs. Life wasn't easy for a heavy-duty battlecruiser, but now the Victator was once more in peak fighting condition, with perfect timing for this latest deployment.
Verryk headed off to the comms station, but Jol remained by Kiff's side as he arrived at the holoprojection table that made up the battle management system of the Victator. Kiff ran his hand affectionately over the cold, but the familiar metal surface of his ship. "Let's take her for one last spin, eh?" he said aside to Jol as the battle management system lit up with a holographic display of the Talay system, the namesake planet, and the position of Kiff's fleet highlighted. Jol nodded in his affirmation, giving only a warm smile in response.
Kiff pinched in the display, enlarging the image of Talay to the point where the planet itself was so large that it clipped out of the holoprojection. The multitude of ships made deciphering the projection near impossible, but a quick key change highlighted them in a different color - identified friendly ships as purple, hostiles as red, and the rest as blue. Moving away from the planet, he let the system focus on the Confederate and terrorist fleets present. "Present communications indicate that the entirety of the terrorist armada is operating under two separate commanders, given the fact that two separate fleets arrived in the system at different times."
The High Marshal nodded as he zoomed in further, taking note of the positions of the ships. A faint communication relay of what appeared to be the leading terrorist admiral played out in the background, but Kiff chose to take little head of that. He was more interested in the formation of the enemy ships in the rear of the fleet. "Right there," he said at long last, pointing towards the rear. "They're arranged in a standard v-formation, with their backs virtually turned. Hit them from the behind and we can virtually fold them in."
Jol nodded carefully, following Kiff along as he explained the plan. As the High Marshal finished, Jol allowed for a polite pause before pointing at several small clusters of ships, three small groups of four frigate-sized ships spread well apart from each other, even further from the rear than the main formation of ships. "From their placement, those could have some sort of long-range armament onboard. They need to be taken care of, lest we jump right in front of them with our backs exposed."
Kiff nodded. "Right," he said, trailing off as his mind raced, looking back and forth between the various fleet formations. At long last, he came up with a solution. "I'll just drop the carrier line on them," he said with a slight sense of grandeur.
Jol raised his eyebrows. "Do you have three carrier lines?"
"No," Kiff admitted, "but I have two assault cruisers and some flak frigates that can be used to eradicate the other two formations. If they're actually built for long-range combat, they shouldn't stand a chance if we drop an Argente-class or two on them."
"Sounds like a plan," was Jol's reply. "I'll go and calculate the jumps, you give the orders?"
Kiff nodded, and the two friends clasped hands before walking their separate ways -- Jol to the internal systems section, Kiff around the holodisplay to the front of the bridge where he could enjoy a panoramic view of the starfield that lay beyond. Kiff took a moment to breathe in before he turned to comm-scan, Verryk already standing at the ready.
"There are three groups of long-range frigates sitting outside of the formation; inform the Last Disciple that they, the Ormano and the Carrion are to jump to the furthest formation and eradicate them with extreme prejudice, weapons-free. The Shadowrun, the Xalion, and the Moon Dark are to do the same with the formation on the furthest opposite side. In the meantime, the Silver Wings and Destined Call are to drop onto the middle long-range formation, with the Arkham Nights behind it," Kiff said as a line was immediately drawn between the appropriate ships to their destination. Activity on the bridge began to stir as orders were relayed to their respective captains and commanders.
Kiff turned away from the vexing problem of the long-range formations, back to the main fleet in the rear. "The rest of the formation will be jumping in the rear of the main ships, from behind enemy position and slightly closer to the prevention point of the flotilla lead by the Shadowrun. The Apotheosis and Iron Lord are to revert in a line on the left of the flagship, on the side closer to the Shadowrun, while the Exigent, Carrhae White, and Ikelos are to revert in a line on the right of the Victator, in that order. Corvettes in the attack line are to be in the shield bubbles of the larger star destroyers and battleships to provide point-defense support."
"Immediately when we arrive, we are weapons-free. I want as many enemy ships destroyed as quickly as possible. Prepare the fleet to make the jump for hyperspace," Kiff finished, nodding for the corresponding officers to make to their posts as the Victator prepared for battle. The High Marshal took a second to watch them, before turning towards Verryk, who seeing that the High Marshal was looking at him, left his comm-station to walk up to him. "Also," Kiff said in a lower tone as Verryk stopped in front of him, "I want an open frequency to transmit to all present ships ready as soon as we revert. I think it would be. . . polite to give them a verbal response."
Verryk nodded, a knowing smile crossing his face as he winked at the High Marshal before moving back the comm-station. Kiff turned back to the front of the ship to see that Jol had suddenly materialized, looking as trim and orderly as ever. It was almost odd to think that not even ten minutes ago he, Jol, and Verryk had been playing a game of Sabacc, and now they were here preparing to drop unexpectedly into an enemy war fleet. It was that kind of surprise and daring that Kiff lived for. "The fleet is fully prepared and on standby, High Marshal," Jol informed Kiff with formality, but a twinkle of his eye and with warmth in his smile. "All they're waiting for is your command."
Kiff nodded, a tad more solemn than he had been a minute earlier. He looked around the busy bridge of the Victator, suddenly quiet as they awaited his final order. Kiff let the moment sink in before nodding in finality. "Punch it."
The black-and-white starfield receded into the blue swirls of hyperspace as the Victator left one dimension and traveled into the next.
The voyage was incredibly short, as was the custom of most system-wide microjumps. It was less than ten seconds before the blue swirls of hyperspace receded back into the starfield as the Confederate armada reverted back to realspace, but now the view was littered by the dozens of terrorist ships that obstructed view. Klaxons blared, and the Victator deaccelerated quickly to a stop, barely avoiding full-on ramming into a formation of corvettes that, from Kiff's point of view, were arranged in an inverted v-formation. He would've fired right as they reverted to hyperspace, but first, he had to make some sort of entrance.
"Commander, General, whoever you are, I've come to inform you that you guys are what normal people like to call terrorists. I'd love to leave this system, but first I'm going to have to, unfortunately, blast your ships into pieces of nothing," Kiff replied over the open comms as the warships of the Confederacy opened fire, thundering to life as they spat out all they had against the opposing ships. He didn't even need to give the order. "Even though you would rather cower behind the lives of civvies -- which, if you did your homework, you would know this planet didn't have any to even begin with -- I'm don't have a fething piece of bantha crap for morales, so what I'll try to make your deaths as quick as possible. Stay tuned into this frequency for some fitting music," Kiff finished as he began to broadcast a popular electronic dance song from Fondor before signing off of the communication and turning to the battle at hand.
The High Marshal watched approvingly as the guns of the Victator blasted away at the enemy fleets. But the battle was far from over. "Gunnery, I want the Victators tractor beam generators to focus each on a separate corvette -- immobilize it, and inform your crew that they have target practice. Comm-scan, order each Grievous-class to do the same thing. Most primary weapons should be focusing on the larger ships in their formation, but once the corvettes are destroyed, every ship is permitted to use their full arsenal with impunity. Aim for their weak spots -- by flanking, we're looking at all the unarmored and poorly defend spots. Use it to our advantage. And I want that composite beam laser charged, and prepare to targe the lead Monarch-class Star Destroyer."
Even as Kiff said the words, laser fire continued to pour out from the mainline of star destroyers and battlecruisers. Missiles left white streaks as each launcher propelled dozens of dozens with each volley, targeting the Monarchy and Sentinel-class ships of the terrorist fleet. The missiles launched were the latest M19 Firefly Assault Concussion Missiles, designed to deploy flares in a manner that would confuse enemy point defense systems. Even from the distance, Kiff could see the tiny orange umbrellas of light as the assault concussion missiles descended on their respective targets.
The closer-range guns of the forward fleet focused on the corvettes, Sentinel, and Mark VII, while the long-range mass driver cannons focused on the further-away Monarch-class Star Destroyers. None of the ships had deployed fighter squadrons, but the point-defenses of the Grievous-class Star Destroyers and Flak Frigates were prepared to fire at any hostile small craft on sight.
Even as the battle unfolded at the front of the Confederacy's flanking formation, Kiff's plan for the rear ships was being enacted as well. An individual Argente-class Assault Cruiser, accompanied by two Flak Frigates had jumped right on top of either of the far-flung formations of the long-range frigates, all ships immediately opening fire on all surrounding frigates, using the powerful mass-driver cannons and assorted weapons to deal as much damage as possible. Each assault cruiser also launched their fighters to offensively strafe the surrounding frigates, each cruiser containing two squadrons of Mk III Vulture Droids.
Meanwhile, two escort frigates dropped right on top of the center formation of long-range cruisers, opening fire with their armaments as well and deploying their single squadron of Vulture Droid fighter each, amounting to two squadrons total strafing the enemy frigates. The escort frigates were not meant to be the primary hitting force, however, as the massive Arkham Nights reverted into hyperspace a half-kilometer away from the enemy and friendly frigates, spewing forth its own squadrons of offensive fighters to take on the frigates.
As the battle raged, Kiff and Jol stood side-by-side at the fore of the bridge of the Victator, watching as the stars were painted by bright streaks of laser fire and the lights of war. It was in moments like these that they did not speak to each other, so great was the power of the battle that stood before them. But despite that, the two -- the High Marshal and his right-hand man -- didn't need words to communicate what they were feeling. Their bond was beyond that. And so the two men watched.
Deployed from the Arkham Nights, attacking "center" long-range frigates
The entire Confederacy fleet under Kiff's command has jumped from their previous location to the relative position of AOC fleets.
The Victator and Grievous-class Star Destroyers have jumped to the behind of Dimitri's main formation and slightly closer to the "left" and are firing all they have at all of Dimitri's ships excluding the LRAS Darts.
A tractor beam generator is being focused on each Disruptor-class Corvette with the intent to immobilize it.
Long-range mass-driver cannons are being focused on Monarch-class Star Destroyers while conventional turbolasers and ion cannons are focusing on the Sentinel-class Heavy Explorers and S.R.R.S.S. Mark VII. Firefly Assault Concussion Missiles are being fired at all classes of ships except the corvettes. Weak spots are being intentionally targeted (exposed propulsion, etc).
The Victator has begun charging its composite beam cannon.
All point-defense systems are primed (including flak corvettes) to intercept any missiles or fightercraft.
A flotilla of one Argente-class Assault Cruiser and two flak corvettes has jumped into the middle of each LRAS Dart formation on both the far-right and far-left.
Two squadrons of fighters have been deployed and are strafing the frigates.
Each flotilla is weapons-free and firing all they have against the frigates.
Two Escort Frigates have jumped into the middle formation of LRAS Darts in a similar manner as the above, and are doing the same in deploying fighters and going weapons-free. In addition, the Arkham Nights have reverted around a half-kilometer behind the escort frigates and have deployed fighters to reinforce the escort frigates.
Kiff is broadcasting some rad music to the AOC Fleet.
The night was surprisingly chilly for what was supposed to be a climate controlled dome. Having laid out on a rooftop for several hours didn't help much. Judd could feel his muscles aching and bones popping from inactivity. He'd been on this world since just shortly after Ryloth. It'd been known that Rodia would be the AoC's next target. But unlike Ryloth where they had tried to give the Confederacy the benefit of the doubt, no one was leaving Rodia to chance. With some rather convincing forged documents Judd had smuggled his way onto the world and found employment in the factories. It had all been a cover though. A chance to gather intel for the AoC and pave the way for the invasion. He'd not come alone however. Sitting next to him, macrobinoculars braced against the edge was Cynder Tolk, a Mikkian survivor of his commando squad on Ryloth. She'd proven herself capable enough to accompany him on this mission.
Cynder removed her eyes from the macrobinoculars and set back with a sigh. He could understand that. It was a long uneventful night so far. But with the fireworks in the sky things were sure to kick off momentarily. She stared at him for a tense moment before asking the question on her mind. "Should you really be doing that? What if they smell you?"
Judd turned away from the rifle sights and looked up into her bright eyes, a lit cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. "Are you kidding me. This place smells worse then a Hutt's refresher after a bender. If they could smell me through all that I pity them." Returning his gaze back to the sights once again he took one last inhale and flicked the remains away. The air had shifted and he could almost sense the coming assault. His biggest worry were those witches. Half the stuff he'd heard about them were just myths in his mind until Ryloth. Now, his mind was racing with ideas of what else they could do. "Are the party favors ready?"
"Yes they are." Good, Judd thought as he moved the rifle stock into a more comfortable position. They hadn't just been working in the factories and gathering intel. Judd and Cynder had spent the nights preparing a few extra surprises. It had taken them a few days to survey the ways into the district, but finally decided the avenue they were on overwatch on would be the only logical way to move an army down. No doubt the Confederacy believed themselves smart. Knowing when this attack would happen they would evacuate the city and try to spring their own trap. If only they'd realized the info its self was a trap, and by removing most of the civilian population afforded men like Judd to be more careless if his own trap. "This will be like shooting fish in a barrel." Chambering one of the Phrik tipped rounds Judd waited, ready to rain death from above.
Alwine was running. The Godkillers and Rashae
were near her, as well were the Rodians that had wanted to help them, that had not made it off the the planet on time and so wished to help with the small numbers of those left behind. Their entire purpose for coming to the jungles, far enough from the capital city to not be affected by the fighting that was certain to occur there, was for safety. But the Confederacy did not want to grant them any safety. She was more than willing to believe that they had not even attempted to run identification before they started shooting, and the Rodians that died? They would be accused of working with the Agents of Chaos. There would be no process, no trial, only their remains in the jungle, to be taken by nature as time progressed.
But no. Instead, they had tried to kill all of them. If it was just about her, Alwine would've had no problem believing it. She'd read the propaganda from Thyferra, knew she was being accused for a puff float that had chosen to stand in front of a bullet that was released before she was there. There was also that pesky matter of having shot Derek Dib between the eyes. She would never apologize for that. The man had lured them under false pretenses and the Confederacy had ignored the understanding that had he not opened his gates, had not planned the entire thing, Ryloth would likely not have been targeted by them in the first place. They still referred to him as Viceroy, though he had no Confederate planet to reign on anymore. The entire situation was hilarious.
And did not excuse the shooting of humanitarian aid.
She had not initially wanted to come for this. She had not initially wanted to come at all. Thanks to the treatments Alwine was now receiving from Rashae
, she had been doing better than ever before. She hadn't needed her walking cane in days, and she knew her body could take a lot again. Not that checking it in an active field of battle like this was a good idea, but sometimes the situation simply demanded it. Alwine was one of the excuses the Confederacy used to come for innocents, and she would not hide.
The entire last week, reports of bounties set by the Confederacy on the Agents had been making headlines. So much much taxpayer's money offered to waste, and for what? And despite that, not a single one had taken the offer up. Not a single report of an attempt on a bounty claim, even though they had openly celebrated Freedom Day with the Rylothians since. Seemed like no one wanted to help the Confederate Empire after all.
"Do not attempt the comms!" Alwine ordered as all the survivors continued their escape into deeper parts of the jungle, "Give them not our location!"
There would be other ways for the Confederacy to try to track them down, but that didn't mean they had to make it any easier on them. In the jungles, she knew, they would find a small amount of more Rodians.
When they finally came to a stop, Alwine was as out of breath as the rest of them. But there was one thing few would have counted on. Taught to her by Maple Harte
herself, Alwine had become most at home in surroundings that included jungles, forestry, and greenery. She might not have been the greatest combatant in the galaxy, but you rarely wanted to attack someone on the turf in which they were strongest. And while she could do without the humidity, she absolutely loved the wild life of Rodia.
As the rest of the group rested, Alwine touched one of the thick trees, feeling the life pulse within it. Trees never enjoyed fires.
"Not here," she said loud enough for Rashae
to hear, though she was certain the woman knew that already, "One more click. I will be able to aid our protections there, better than here or in the previous location." She hadn't known it before. But then again, she hadn't checked on the life of the plants before. So much richness, and depth, and history. And the Confederacy would gladly destroy it just to kill a few Agents. Just as with the refugees. Hypocrites.
"We should move now," she sighed, grabbing a water flask and downing its contents.
Not in an abstract sense that made light of her apparent youth and an uncanny obsession with Holo-Games—But in a very literal sense. There was a port in the side of her neck that ran into the expansive terminal that her transport boasted. From there, she watched the feeds, and listened to the broadcasts she could access before some things started going dark. She could get them back with a little manipulation of the data stream but things were getting pretty messy out there.
Never had she seen so many warships.
All of them were talking in the space around her. The vacuum was full of chatter. She was just one of the few that could hear it. Athena, had been designed to hear it. Her life had begun as a well-loved AI. From there? She had been given shape. Form. Blessed with a pleasing body that could outshine many on the market. Few could tell she wasn’t organic.
Even fewer suspected that she never had been at all.
“This is the Crotona Star on the approach to Talay.”
She spoke; but it was not her voice the Confederacy would hear. It would be the prompt submission of transponder details and confirmation, regardless, the fact that this ship contained a fair amount of stealth. Athena found it a little gimmicky. It was all the rage these days. Stealth this. Stealth that. The auburn-haired automaton reached up to brush dark tresses behind her ear while green eyes glimmered with unnatural light. “Making final approach. Moments, minutes. Inbound. Counting down.”
Athena had been given a job.
She would complete it.
Even if she felt like her circuitry was misfiring for trying to get into the middle of all this. What had happened on Ryloth and Siskeen was still nightmare fuel for younglings all over the Southern Systems. And some Systems that had nothing to do with it at all. She wasn’t blind and she always had an ear to the ground, so to speak, for all pertinent happenings. This was big. Bigger, than big. Heads were going to roll. Athena really, truly, wanted to keep her cranium attached to her central systems.
It was an expensive fix otherwise.
The Wolves’ Curse-Class Stealth frigate that she had been given whispered through the atmosphere of Talay and followed the flight path she had pre-planned. Athena didn’t even need to touch anything to steer properly. She was connected to the ship. Every fiber of her being. A little bit of turbulence seemed like it wanted to roll in and she tried to place the ship at ease. Every ship, large or small, had a personality all its own. One just simply needed to know how to read it.
“Almost there. You’re submersible. No need to worry about all those big blue buckets of H2O.”
The Confederate Relay had a docking port where she could bring her gear down. It wasn’t much. Generally, she was the gear. And backed up on a half-dozen different servers. She could be cut terminated here and nothing would change. Athena would be a little sad. Lose a good outfit. But, it didn’t change facts. She was expendable, just like, if not more so expendable than the run of the mill B1. At least she didn’t seem to have their quirky personalities. For the love of all things. Some of them were afraid of mice.
Smooth sailing. For all of the fire-power going off in the sky?Smoooooth sailing.
“Don’t worry Crotona. You did so well—We got through without a scratch.”
The ship was worried. Athena didn’t blame it. All of the big guns were trying to shoot each other into smithereens. They didn’t seem to be holding back anymore. Everything had been heightened. She honestly needed to talk to whoever made the bad guys their travel papers. The CIS had all but checked her memory core at the gate and she’d been invited. Talk about looking at a girl’s unmentionables… Jeeze. It was really,really rude.
All that being said—She couldn’t blame organics for their shortcomings. She was programmed with flawless punctuality and equally impressive manners. They were, after all, imperfect.Only human.
Speaking of human, it seemed, that her hired help and or “muscle” had arrived. Securing a landing zone?
Athena brought Crotona around to take a look. The credentials stated that they were friendly, however, she wasn’t sure she could trust it. Plenty of the Agents had gotten into the Confederacy somehow. Otherwise, they’d not be fighting so hard so soon. It was only a matter of math. Choosing the lesser denominator, she eventually chose to dock at the Comms Relay after a few passes.
She couldn’t just fly around like a meter maid hunting for cheap credits all day.
Disconnecting from her ship she gave the control bridge an affectionate pat before standing up. She wore an all-black catsuit with knee-high boots. A black knapsack remained draped over her shoulder while silken hair fell to just beneath her shoulders in a straight cut. She had a few other tricks on her person, but, she was here to fix the relay. Not fight.
Stepping down from the ramp she began to scan the area.
“Salutations!”, she greeted the much taller man from across the landing zone. “I have been informed we will be working together—”, her head tilted, momentarily, before she straightened up again, “Mr. Stone.”
It wasn’t hard to find the identity of someone quickly. As long as you knew where to look.
“The system…It’s still transmitting. I can hear it. We’ve got to turn that off or we’re most definitely gonners.”
Whether or not Shalita believed the words she spoke at this particular time, was something she felt was kind of moot. Anyone could believe anything after it was repeated many times. Just like anyone could skillfully handle any weapon with a great deal of practise. When the assassin had joined Vytal and Solanaceae, she had meant it. The woman wasn’t simply here to learn new skills only to walk away. When Shalita did something, it was done with purpose and every action she took, was fueled by commitment that couldn’t be shaken by outside influences. However, what she could confirm was that she did indeed believe in the spirits, had seen first hand on Ryloth how the spirits had been risen from their eternal sleep through a ritual and had gone to help maintain the dome’s structure until everyone could be evacuated. The spirits had helped them then and now perhaps the dead of Rodia might help them now.
Now whether she believed in the gods, that was a completely different topic entirely.
Icy blue eyes rolled at the suggestion of not following Vytal into a battle and her hands that were clasped behind her back, fell back down to her sides as she rolled her shoulders and looked to Shamira when Vytal addressed her current mood. Her thoughts returned to the reports at hand as she turned away from what seemed like a moment that she needed to not be a part of. Sometimes, other people’s sorrows were a private affair that didn’t need acquaintances to nose in on it. Shalita respected the privacy of those within her faction. At least, she usually did until she had a reason not to, or unless of course she was tasked by the Vicelord to look into matters that required an assassin to look into.
Finally, Vytal opened the gateway and the woman passed through it, her booted feet touched down on the opposite side of Iskaaayuma and Shalita continued to follow the Nightmother while her thoughts returned elsewhere. There had been reports of deaths leading up to the invasions. Deaths that were military and non-military, had been displayed to Rodia. They were marks of a serial killer for sure. Most cops wouldn’t look for a motive after three deaths, but there was something about the details that gnawed away at the assassin's mind. A serial killer didn’t display their victims unless it was for a purpose, they also didn’t remove identifying marks. There wasn’t a point to it, because the identities of the victims passed the three kill mark, were no longer important. The identities wouldn’t have mattered, because serial killers didn’t kill based on individual vendettas. This was something… Different.
Except, the bodies could be identified. The killer had removed the faces, so identification through facial recognition wasn’t something that could be done. However, nothing had been said about the removal of fingers. Fingerprint identification was a thing. A hand rose so then her palm could slide over her pale jaw in thought while they walked. The killer also hung the bodies and that told her one thing. You didn’t display your victims unless you wanted someone to feel something. Something like fear and serial killers often became loose cannons, always trying to scratch that next itch to kill, to reach out and taunt. Yet this one didn’t do anything except display the victims to incite fear. This told her that this wasn’t the typical run of the mill serial killer. They were dealing with a pro… An assassin.
The woman was pulled from her thoughts and back into the present when they stopped moving and she listened to Vytal’s words as icy blue eyes watched the area they stood in while she reached out through the force to sense anything that could potentially be considered a threat. Although a graveyard, the woman didn’t want any surprises. That was until the Nightmother began speaking and a hand rose to lightly rest upon the unlit lightsaber that hung from her belt. She was new to everything witch and as the ground began to shake the woman had to bend her knees slightly so then not to lose her own footing, only to watch the ground crack inwards as if a sinkhole was opening up right before them.
Yet as Vytal continued chanting she found that her own lips began to softly chant alongside the Nightmother while her gaze was also drawn to the abyss before them.
Just had to update location and minor spelling and punctuation errors. Also did a minor restructure of a sentence so then it made sense.
Madalena had switched her comms off, knowing well in avance what would happen the moment she sent a single word into the open frequencies. There was no need to hear any Confederate tantrums. The treatment of Rodia since their announcement had told them everything they needed to know - the Confederacy was afraid. It didn't know how to deal with people like the Agents of Chaos. Their victory on Ryloth and Siskeen had made them feel like they hadn't done enough. Intimidated by the insurgents now, they tried to move to the other end of the doing spectrum into the total overkill.
Looking to @Eldroc, she gave him a grin. "Our team isn't here for the factories," she answered him, "We're here to clean the streets. We're probably going to be seeing a lot of chit thrown our way. Hope you had your armor maintained recently enough," she chuckled. Turning her attention to Nerium
, she offered the woman a smile as well, "Someone will indeed pay for it," Madalena assured her, "We'll get the Confederacy to pay for your new gloves."
There wasn't any time for more words. The shrieks of bullets and missiles ripping through the air announced the only warning they would receive without more advanced equipment or working frequencies, and Madalena already raised her arms before her head, pulling the people around her (except Theo, sorry) towards her, and threw her Force Bubble over all of them.
Things began to explode on every direction, the ground and the walls around them beginning to take the damage. Her bubble would not protect them for very long, not if there was no break.
"HOLD ON TO ME!" Madalena screamed over the sound of things exploding, and began to move back, into the nearest factory. The invisible tendrils that came from every pore in her body wiggled with excitement and she groaned. They were a nuisance in times like this, even if no one but her could see them. "THEODORO PIRRAN!" she screamed towards the man. He had mentioned in his challenge that he was of the Sun Guard. Madalena didn't know everything about them, but their reputation for amazing battle mates came before them. Her own sister had worked with them during a few wars, and had only positive things to report. "I will face you in combat! Help us secure the area so you may fight without the Confederacy's aid, and prove you need no external help to try to beat the Kickass Madalena Antares!"
As she challenged him right back, Madalena almost moved towards the factory behind them, before shaking her head and then moving more towards the bigger main street - where space was ample on all sides.
OOC - Tried catching everything from the last 5 pages but if I might have missed someone please PM/DM me!
Eldoc laughed. He could fight with the best of them. "Can't let them ruin a perfectly fine pair of gloves." Then hell seemed upon them thankfully it would seem his new ally could defend them and as Eldoc scurried into cover with them, He was going to say more but he was more preoccupied with not dying from missiles bullets and rubble. He was rather attached to living. Once they were in cover, Eldoc waited for the source of the fire and brimstone to draw close enough and he smirked poking his head out.
He watched for the opposing eyes in the sky to get into a position that he could do something. Then he began to move into position himself, knowing he had to do this right or he would just die in a blaze of weapons fire. No plans to die today at least. He darted out, moving fast and with purpose. This was his moment or that at least was what he told himself. This was the time to win all the marbles.
He used Force Bellow to scream at them in a destructive wave of force enhanced sound waves, "How can you live with yourselves! Fighting for a side that spaces innocent lives!" He let the force expel in his voice as he sought to perhaps crash one of the gunships or cook some munitions or anything honestly. HIs voice becoming a scream of force empowered destruction as it began to vibrate things it hit. Then it was time to duck out.
Where: Rodia - Field Hospital
Why: To help the wounded
Wearing/Wielding: Fate & Robes
When: N/A
With: Prennis Keeoli
Opposing: Choas Agents of Chaos
Aurelion's nerves thrummed with tension, excitement and an undercurrent of fear as he helped the finishing touches of the field hospital be established, moving equipment where it would be most needed, moving supplies where they might be most crucial and preparing each and every cot, every bed, every single stethoscope and syringe for proper, safe medicinal use. Once this was done Aurelion glanced to who, he supposed, was who he supposed was his 'commanding officer' or.... senior in this instance, in the form of Prennis Keeoli.
Aurelion timidly approached the older woman, ears tucked down sheepishly and eye downcast in worried trepidation. This was his first time tending to patients, near active combat, without his Buir there. It made his stomach churn and roil as he found himself looking up at Prennis without really any idea as to what exactly he would say. There was a bit of an awkward silence, his ears wiggling in distress before he simply blurted "Ummm A-Aurelion Nova.... reporting for uhh... duty?" He blushed, realizing how silly he sounded, and ducked his head as he mumbled.
"That umm... sounded better in my head....."
Aurelion then shook said head and cleared his throat. "W-What I meant was..... I'm willing to help however I can M-Miss Keeoli." Aurelion gave a respectful bow, sweeping his robes back as he closed his eye, showing her the respect he felt she deserved. "I'm.... capable of minor surgeries, administration of bacta and also have an astromech companion that can do field repairs o-on ummm.... people who have robotic limb replacements." Aurelion concluded, hoping that he and V1 could be useful, should Aurelion have to retrieve the little astromech from The Escape.
The pilots ready room aboard the Justice was almost empty, a few stragglers who were getting prepped for the operation ahead. Squadrons mixed and intermingled, barging past each other in their rush to get to their assigned birds in the hangar not twenty feet away.
In the corner a holoscreen broadcast the CIS Grand Marshal and Salem watched quietly, a cigarra slowly moving from one side of his mouth to the other as he unconsciously chewed on its end.
"Agents of Chaos, this is Grand Marshal von Sorenn. At Ryloth I had been tempered, I had been understanding and even shown compassion when your vessels were disabled. I had offered you assistance, I had offered you a means to leave that world and return home, though that offer was received and responded by spitting in our face. Now though is a different story. I tell you this now, You will receive no Mercy. There shall be no Quarter. As long as you are on Rodia or in its space above, you will be hunted, found, and brought to ruin. You sought to use innocents as fodder on Ryloth, you have shown your colors as nothing more than mere Terrorist the moment that you allied yourself with those that snuffed out the lives of civilians by using themselves as bombs." the volume was low but he found himself alone now, just himself and the Grand Marshal, and the voice carried well.
“Good thing we aren’t going to Rodia.” Sal thought to himself, leaning a shoulder against a locker and folding his arms against his chest. He watched the helmet slip off and her features reveal themselves.
"You think the Confederacy monsters? I tell you this, you've not seen a monster, so I shall give you the monster that you so fear the Confederacy to be. I shall become the thing that you revile and fear. For every life that you took at Ryloth, I promise you this, I shall feed upon a thousand of your agents." the Grand Marshal continued, then the prisoner came into focus. The next few seconds, Norongachi watched dispassionately, like a man examining a nature documentary or trying to work out whether a modern art piece was really art or just a banana taped to a wall.
“She sure does smirk a lot,” was all he commented as he picked up his helmet. In his day you would have called that performance cartoonish; Paint a mustache to twirl on her alabaster features, slap on a monocle and a top hat and the image would have been complete. Still, she enunciated well and whoever wrote her monologues wasn’t bad.
The reversion countdown sounded and he tossed the cigarra aside before slipping his helmet on and entering the hangar deck proper. Pilots and deckhands scrambled in fervent activity, doing all the checks that needed to be done before any combat mission began. His squadron, which made three now by his count, was designated Aurora and he was the 8th of the 12.
He saw Bella
there, waiting patiently in her Ballerina, a new fighter that needed put through its paces. It reminded him of the old RZ-1’s from yesteryear when he’d pulled up the specs and he could only hope it was as lucky today as the A-Wing had been in his youth with the Alliance (before he’d turned traitor and buggered off with the fighter but that was a story for another time).
The Squadron was composed of the best the AoC had to offer which, when his reassignment came, left him wondering why he was here. Nothing he’d done in recent memory warranted it. Although he was a modest pilot by his own reckoning the term ‘Ace’ sat uneasy (like your grandmother calling you a handsome boy in front of your girlfriend, whether it was true or not) and made his insides squirm. Bella, on the other hand, deserved the call and like a creepy stalker he’d pulled her records through questionable means and reviewed them. She was a great pilot, certainly in the running for such a squadron and with a word here and a word there, he’d managed to get her the gig. (Alcohol is the lubrication by which bureaucracy turns no matter what reality you reside in.)
He climbed into his Ballerina, settled himself and looked over the controls. The clock outside ticked down to game time and it took only a moment for his gauntleted hands to go on automatic, working through the pre-flight check with efficiency born of experience.
The alarm sounded, they had arrived, and then they heard William Forlorn, their commander for this shindig plead with the assembled might of the CIS. Sal thought he sounded wooden, like a fighter forced to say nice things about his opponent while imagining all the ways he was going to detach his head from his shoulders. Protocol, he thought.
“Hyperspace translation confirmed! All pilots, prepare for imminent launch! Repeat, prepare for imminent launch!”came the call and Sal brought his girl to life, the thrum of her engines rumbling across his armour. Attack craft launched from the hangar in an orderly fashion, the deck hands guiding and confirming clear skies before another slipped beyond the hangar bays shields. Then he was up and he felt the weight of acceleration before internal systems compensated and all he saw were stars.
“Standing orders are to hold position behind the Justice. They shouldn’t be able to hit us with the rest of the fleet covering our position. Do not break formation or engage. Aurora One, out.” the comms, relayed to his armours helmet system chimed. Sal wasn’t about to argue and pulled into position by Aurora Seven, even at this range he felt the rumble of emotion through the Force and set his comms to ship-to-ship.
“Sal to Just Bella,” he looked out across the way to her, unable to see her face through the canopy nor her his. “Relax a little, enjoy the sights. Plenty of death in our collective futures, may as well meet it with a smile.”
In the week that had followed the Agents of Chaos' open declaration of their intent to attack Rodia, the Confederacy Defense Force had worked round the clock shifts in a bid to evacuate the Civilian Populace to neighboring Systems and safe havens; throw in a killer - possibly an Agent of Chaos or somehow linked to them - running around slaughtering civilians and putting their bodies on display during a Planet-wide evacuation, and one could easily say that the process had been a monumentally exhausting endeavor. The end result was thus; There were No Civilians remaining on Rodia - with any individual that wasn't broadcasting the newest Confederacy codes being deemed a terrorist that had arrived on the planet by unknown means - managing to slip through an evacuation blockade as if they had deployed some kind of magical substance with a wave of their hand.
Many of the crew beneath her command were dead tired, having given their all to ensure the safety of the civilian populace; and after all, evacuating an entire planet in a week's time was a rather arduous endeavor that took its toll on just about everyone. Still, no matter how tired they were, they pressed on and focused upon the task at hand. There was to no longer be any kind of understanding, no more 8-minute grace periods. If they were not with the Confederacy they would be opened up. Thus, as soon as the orbital bombardment of the 'Medical' corvettes and their internment camp had begun, it had ended. However, for the corvettes now attempting to flee and those that had run into the jungle, they would come to face their own challenges.
"Deploy the White Sun and Lady's Revolver to the blast zone, they are to scourer the site again. Saturate the location with another barrage and work their way out to five-kilometers in all directions. They have permission to launch their starfighters to assist in this endeavor. As for the two Corvettes attempting to flee, set the Rae and Brass Heart on an intercept course. They are not to take prisoners, even if those corvettes surrender, no Agent of Chaos or affiliate is to be permitted to leave the planet alive."
And just as it seemed that a few wayward, unregistered, "Medical" corvettes would be the most 'exciting' event; the event was delivered an unexpected gift of sorts. A bio-vessel that apparently deemed it necessary to drop out of Hyperspace right in the middle of the fleet. Of course, they had to greet it properly with their own salvos of fire. How the vessel managed to drop from Hyperspace on top of the E'care Shukur - effectively putting the vessel in the middle of the fleet orbiting Rodia, and within the Planet's Gravity Well - was something to be worried about and discovered later. For now, it drew the fleet's attention, perhaps even giving a reprieve to those fleeing Medical corvettes - though that was unlikely. Almost immediately the fleet responded to the Yba'sokug's presence and assault in kind - with the Opal Sabot and Righteous Immortality unleashing a withering storm of fire upon the vessel, coupled with the assault that it drew from the Souther Talon and Obsidian Banshee. A flurry of Quad-Turbolaser Cannons, Heavy Turbolaser Cannons, Turbolaser Cannons, Railguns, Quad Laser Cannons, and Octuple Barbette Turbolaser Batteries unleashed salvo after salvo of bolts across the vessel's hull. With each Battlecruiser and Star Destroyer unleashing a series of Proton Torpedo bursts, backed with Deck Cannons and Heavy Guns to assist in dealing with the slugs that were streaming towards the E'care Shukur.
However, it was not just the Battlecruisers and Star Destroyers that had targetted the vessel. Even with its shields straining under the effects of the Dovin Basins, the Super Star Destroyer was bringing its own weapons to bear against the Yba'sokug. A flurry of activity abounded upon the E'care Shukur, its Flak Guns, Railgun Turrets, and Heavy Gun Turrets unleashed their own withering salvo upon salvo into the Bio-engineered hull of the vessel.
"Ma'am, additional AoC vessels arriving and moving towards the Planet."
It brought a smirk to her lips to be such a target-rich environment, and if they were this willing to throw themselves at her just for Rodia, perhaps, just perhaps, she could entertain the idea of burning Rodia just to spite the Agents and derail their attempted plans of grandeur. After all, if they could spin their little Ryloth narrative, how difficult could it be to spin Rodia's destruction as the Agents of Chaos' plan all along?
"Stiletto of the Ecclesiarchy and Blessed Cartridge will concentrate their fire on the lead AoC vessel; Dark Forge, Goddess Defiant, Calypso, and Pryor will also assist and concentrate fire on the lead AoC vessel. The Azurite Dragon and Gilded Chancery will unleash Concussion Missiles against their attack line in a full spread and follow up with concentrated bursts of fire, targeting the outermost vessels first and working their way in. Likewise, the Cyanide Redemptor and Chimera will unleash Proton Torpedoes against their Skirmish line and support the assault with concentrated bursts of fire as per the previous command. Focusing on their outermost vessels and working their way down the line. For now, the Sauma and Ingracious Scythe will hold positions, all Starfighter and Bombers will remain in reserve until I give the order."
Each vessel had been given their commands, and the sky above Rodia was alight with a shower of Blaster Bolts. The scorched location of the hospital on the ground was once more feeling the burden of their decision in siding with the Agents of Chaos in their attempt to intern Rodians that were no longer on the planet. The White Sun and Lady's Revolver began another concentrated series of bursts from their Quad-Turbolaser Cannons and Quad-Laser Cannons, while the Longsword Starfighters slipped over the treeline, beginning to strafe the paths and likely routes that those fleeing from the location would attempt as a means to escape further into the jungle.
There was no time to answer about the entire announcement thing. Scherezade barely had time to blink before suddenly Larentia was on her and everyone was merrily holding hands, and a heartbeat later they were mostly a safe distance away from something going boom.
Oh.
As people let hands go, Scherezade burst into laughter. Really? They were trying to play bowling bomb with them? She cracked her knuckles as her laughter died down, only for her nose to pick something up.
Part of Scherezade's abilities let her catalogue people and species in her mind, based on the scent of their blood. The first scent was one that had become familiar to her much later than one would expect - Gerwald Lechner
. The other one… She recognized it as well. Redd
. It hadn't been Scherezade herself that had found her. That was something that Madalena had managed, though she had been in Scherezade's body at the time. The two had shared their memories of those months so much since they became two separate sisters in two separate bodies, that Scherezade remembered that day as though it had been herself who'd been there.
And Gerwald was covered by a wall shield. Wall shields did little to cover scent though.
"Hey Redd!" she greeted the wolf with a smile, her hands already working to disperse the dust around them. She really hated dust, but everything that was flying around them for now was very much part of something she did often. Alwine had told her what Redd's name was, after she and Madalena had spoken of that day. "Your fur is looking so much better! I'm glad to see you're eating better!"
Then turning her attention to Gerwald Lechner
, she chuckled. There had been a time where she would have been more than willing to listen. Those times were long passed.
"Nope," she answered with a shrug, and motioned for the others - Larentia
and the five others, to get ready. From the distance, she could see the fires raining from the sky - not the fireworks that the Agents of Chaos has merrily set off, but missiles and bombs and all that lovely stuff coming down. The part of the city they were in was still not hit, at least for the moment. But that was something that could easily change, especially since the Confederacy was keen on destroying the entire city just to catch… The very small number of Agents who were actually present. Poor Rodians. So many taxes to rebuild something the Confederacy was destroying all on its own.
She walked backwards a few steps, enough so that she could take a right and just keep walking with her people if they went unchallenged. "Good luck!" she laughed and waved, ready to take off, Larentia next to her. Chit. If there was something those three shared, it was their being a Lupine. Scherezade hadn't yet seen Larentia next to new Lupines, she hoped the whole moment of surprise thing could be spared. After all, they had an infestation to take care of.
Beneath them, she was already spreading her presence with the Force. There was absolutely no reason to hold back, after all, was there? Though, she was more than prepared to release it and do something else in case of need.
Edit - been told my "location" in the header wasn't updated from the last post, have updated it to reflect where we are for easier skimming. Actual post content has not been edited.
It’s always the little things, the ones you can chuckle at. Of course, sometimes those things are short-lived and this time not even seconds later did those little things just die out, but it is probably hard to keep up a joke in the midst of being fired at. Thankfully they received protection, how long it would last though was an entirely different story. Yet there wasn’t much most of them could do except stay in the bubble really, after-all one step outside of the bubble would be certain death. Something that no one needed at that moment, because when you’re under heavy fire you need everyone alive.
Zaldros couldn’t tell how many ships there were, all he could come up with was that there was the bare minimum of two but considering how scared the Confederacy seemed to be it was likely that they were being fired at by at least three or four ships, maybe even more because of the open frequency the woman, who was now protecting them had sent out an announcement on. Not that it mattered anymore, they’d make it out, alive and hopefully in one piece. Although an arm or leg is better than the loss of your’s or a teammate’s life.
He noticed that one of those inside the bubble had slipped out, to do what exactly he didn’t know. Probably to buy them time, time to do what it was hard to tell if anybody knew, it seemed the only thing they could work towards doing was surviving and that was good enough. Of course, how they would do it is something Zaldros was unsure of, hopefully, whatever this man was doing would stop or at least slow down the heavy fire, but until that happened all he could do was wait, wait for an opening so they could leave or find something he could do that would help get them someplace much more preferable than their current position was.
R/IS-01-0095 bobbed around, held aloft by low-signature sound dampened micro repulsors. It's life form scanners had picked up a pair of foot mobiles approximately a hundred meters from its position that didn't possess CIS IFF signatures. Unit 0095 began slowly approaching the two targets, but first immediately made the information available over the Manda tactical battlenet to all Strill Securities/Breshig War Forge Consolidated personnel.
Droid detects Domino and Sasmay. Reports their postion.
"Karatyr 6 has engaged, Alor. With any luck we'll find some action too," said Ragar as they sat strapped into the crash seats in their gunship's troop bay. Shuklaar absentmindedly nodded. In truth, he couldn't quite understand why they shabuire had even bothered to hit Ryloth. Shuklaar had fought for clients who had pretty awful reasons for doing what they did, but every way he looked at the supposed reasoning for the Ryloth invasion he just couldn't see one. Now they claim this invasion was for something that happened during some sort of negotiations. He didn't know anything about that, and frankly he didn't care. Their hands weren't innocent in all this, they'd been the aggressors at Ryloth and they were the aggressors here.
Though that wasn't the only thing nagging at his mind. He kept coming back to the incidents of civilians and Rodian officers' bodies being mutilated and strung up. He'd come to see the horrific sight for himself on one occasion. If he had to guess, he'd guess it'd been the work of terrorist sympathizers. He had no proof, there was no headway in the investigation as far as he knew, but he did know that it was extremely unlikely it was a series of random acts of violence on a planet that largely supported the confederacy.
He let out a sigh. They'd all been assisting with the evacuation. The time they had to get an entire planet evacuated was nothing short of madness. He had no idea how they'd gotten it done, but it had happened. Shab, if it wasn't for the implant his ruug'la shebse would have likely fallen asleep. Not much biological fact in that, according to his vitals he was fine. It was probably just the mental fatigue of it all. A lot had happened in the past few months, it really was a lot to take in.
Thankfully, an alert over the Manda snapped him out of his thoughts. "Beroya 1-1, we're taking that call. Divert. Alright vode, someone's finally decided to rear their ugly heads, and from the looks of it they're trying to leave. Remember our instructions. None of these chaakare leave this city alive." A chorus of 'oya' answered him as the gunship kicked into high burn, making for Domino
and Sasmay Cull
's position. At the speeds they were travelling, and with the skill of the Strill Securities pilots, it wasn't long before they were over said street.
Shuklaar didn't need to be told by the pilot that they didn't currently have sightlines on the two humanoid targets their sensors were picking up, instead he decided they were going to handle this while the gunship covered them, "Beroya 1-1, call in to CDF command that we've sighted two hostiles and are about to engage. Rest of you, with me, we're going to flush them out." He didn't even need to tell Ragar Nihut'tyr to open the bay doors, and a repulsor slowed fall later they were on the ground.
One of Ragar's men opened up with a PBHR-01 Particle Beam Heavy Repeater at the corner the two sensor signatures were detected around, while the rest of them began their advance up to the targets. Their gunship settled into a hover over them, weapons menacingly aimed in the direction of the two terrorists. Shuklaar had nothing to say, none of them did. The time for talk was long over. Now? Now it was time for them to die.
Shuklaar muses about the recent happenings before they get word about the location of Domino and Sasmay.
The gunship gets them there pretty quickly with some fancy flying and powerful engines and also because they were close to the general area.
Shuk and two elite shock trooper squads exit, and advance under cover.
"Taking ground fire. Single target, looks like a force user. Shields holding strong. Engaging, standby," Ukran heard the pilot announce over the intercom which he and his men were all connected into. Ukran couldn't quite see it, but given the relatively low number of people on the ground right now, it was not hard for the crew to single out the lone figure (Eldoc Quasat
), turn to face him and send a hail of fire from both front mounted turrets. Eight rapid firing rotary RHM-04 Repeating Heavy Mass-drivers sent a hail of baradium high explosive rounds at the force sensitive.
Ukran felt the gunship vibrate, and knowing that the gunship had bigger targets to fry and that he and his commandos could handle one jetii or dar'jetii, he gave the order to deploy, "Alright vode, you heard the man, it's time to earn some hazard pay! Drop those bay doors and let's introduce ourselves! Karyatr 6 to Karyatr Alpha 6 and Bravo 6, you're with me! Rest of you, after the shabuir who put that shield up. Drop in behind her and cut off her escape! Galaar squadron, stay on station and watch our backs!"
Normally a Mandalorian air assault would have been a sight that most in the galaxy wouldn't have seen, unfortunately the galaxy had likely seen plenty of that in recent times. Ukran was confident that even so, there was something to be said about the way they did it that set them ever so slightly apart. The gunships broke and moved to engage the different targets. Two sped over Madalena's position, their underside troop deployment bays opening and spilling out two eight man squads of rocket pack clad Vornskr Mirshir-Jurkad Rammikade.
They landed behind Madalena Antares
, standing in the way of her and her companions. She'd easily be able to feel the presence of ysalamiri in their 'Ysalamiri Birikad' Nutrient Frames. Though the ysalamiri made it difficult to notice, they were all also wearing Taozin Amulets. In any event, the two gunships kept up their fire on the force bubble, now turning their sides to continue firing with their two port quad rapid firing rotary RHM-04 Repeating Heavy Mass-driver turrets.
While this was happening, Ukran and his commandos dropped out of their gunship and turned their attention to Eldoc Quasat
. There were no threatening words engaged, no chance of surrender offered, instead they just fired. They were armed identically to how the other squads were, and all sixteen commandos opened up on the poor unfortunately force user, held aloft in the air by their combination rocket-repulsor packs and safeguarded from any force powers he may try to direct at them by way of the 'Ysalamiri Birikad' Nutrient Frames mounted to the back of their armor. Any other day, they'd have offered the poor shabuir the chance to surrender, but not today. Today they had orders, and those orders were to not let anyone walk away alive.
The gunship is largely unaffected by the sonic blast, it shoots at Eldoc.
The gunships split, two drop commandos who engage Eldoc.
Two head in Madalena and the others direction and continue to fire at her, as do the commandos with her.
The ground battle may have been chaotic, and it may have been chaotic for the Vuhyr'galaar gunships directly supporting the infantry, but for pilots of the super heavy bombers, fighter bombers and the heavy assault transports things were relatively calm. There really wasn't all too much for them to do that was challenging, sitting at the high altitude that they were. Their operational call sign wasn't Ash'amur for no reason. Ram'ser crews knew they when it finally became time for them to die in battle, they weren't exactly going to go out nice and peacefully. It would be in a horrific ball of flames, and they'd likely be cooked alive painfully.
Flying the big bomber wasn't all that hard. The craft's flight systems made the entire process very routine, and that was during a space battle or a tense ground engagement where they were taking ground fire, this more like walking in the park than flying. "Alor, friendly troops report a dangerous contact moving toward the CDC HQ. We're getting the target on a focused scan of the area, friendly troops are too close for missiles. Orders," said his WSO.
The pilot nonchalantly glanced at the high resolution sensor scan of the area that showed a single man sized target suspiciously close to CDC command. He sighed and put the bomber into an orbit of the area, "Alright, main guns, I want you to dissuade that shabuir please. Two extended bursts in front of him, HEIAP, get him to turn around and stop being a shabuir. I'm sure the infantry can deal with it, and if they can't I'm sure we'll get the call." A chorus of affirmative responses went out through the intercom, and pretty soon the bomber's chin-mounted twin RSM-01 Repeating Super-Heavy Mass-driver turret was aimed to spray arounds about fifty or so meters ahead of Gabriel Volturi
.
Only barely moments later two long bursts of HEIAP rounds crashed into the path ahead with deadly explosive detonations that tore into the ground, making it largely impassable terrain that was also on fire thanks to the round's incendiary component. With that seemingly small matter out of the way, the bomber continued its orbit around the objective, watching and waiting for its next potential target.
Crew of a bomber strafe in 'front' of Gabriel, making it nigh on impossible to continue walking the way he's walking.
Despite being a battlefield much like this one, Atrisia had been a much easier task than this day had been so far. Even though they both took place in a majority urban landscape, Luna’s role had been smaller in comparison. There, she only had the Dauntless under her command with a few small outliers beyond that. They were her people. Many of them she had seen to their training personally. Their qualifications were known, and their experience was unquestioned. It was easier to trust that they’d get the job done, and would do it with a minimal amount of casualties.
Here…that guarantee couldn’t be given.
There were too many unknown factors. As much as trusting SLDF, BWFC, and even the Rodian military police would be the preferable takeaway, she had too few experience with these elements to understand just how likely it’d be that they would complete the objectives given to them. Not only that, but the survivability of these groups weighed on her mind. Those men and women had families. And she was sending them into dangerous situations where their ability to survive would be tested.
All the while, their lives rested on their commanders, and, by extension, her shoulders. It made hard to concentrate on the battle unfolded in front of her. It was easier when their training was known, their commander’s ability to work efficiently was known and there were less mysteries running around on the battlefield. It gave Luna the peace of mind that those that were out there could handle themselves with ease, and that many of them would be able to go back to their homes and families.
These were the types of thoughts that weighed on her mind as the War Marshal looked over the holographic table, watching as more and more information about the terrorists came in. Reports were being made of the enemy having already made it to the factory district, while the largest group was still making their way down the main road. As far as Luna knew, Haastal Haran
would handle the group that was closest to him. The factories were important, but the man knew what kind of people they were dealing with.
There was only two reasons why these people would be attempting to attack the factories like this. They either wanted to send a message of some kind, and felt as though defacing and destroying them would accomplish this goal, or they were making their way there to steal the weapons that the factories produced. Perhaps they believed that they could make it there easier with the planet evacuated like it had been. It would have been easier, at least in her mind, to not have announced they were coming. Their ability to weave in and out of crowds and blend it would have benefited them greatly.
That was why it didn’t make much sense that they were here only to steal weapons. If they wanted to send a message, telling the Confederacy that they were coming made sense in a twisted, almost illogical, sort of way. Informing them of their imminent coming was…not the smartest move in Luna’s mind. Gave them time to prepare.
It seemed as though their preparations were working too. With Haastal engaging those that had made their ways to the factories already, that just left those on the main road for luna to deal with. The strafing runs had already done their part in slowing the group of Madalena Antares
, Eldoc Quasat
, and Zaldros Sabolte
down. Now, all that was left was for the walkers to cut off their route to the factory. Captain Maxilius should have that handled. The blinking dots indicating the walkers were moving rapidly into position, and would be cutting off the route any minute now. The task that these terrorist dogs had to make it there and reinforce those already located at the factory would be made much harder.
That didn’t mean they couldn’t crank the difficulty up just a bit more.
It didn’t take long to tap into Draconis Sederius Wolf
‘s comms. There was a moment of hesitation for Luna to look up at the man as he appeared in holo form. Not because there was any holdup on her end, nor was she nervous of the call she was about to make.
No, she was just worried for half a moment that the man would be shirtless already.
Thankfully, for her eyes and the rest of the command staff, Wolf had reframed from ripping his armor off just yet. That moment was sure to be coming soon, so Luna made the call as brief as she could. “Viceroy…you may commence with Operation Nightfall. Let us update the battlefield just a bit.” With a smirk, the War Marshal cut the comm, turning to command staff once it was finished. It wasn’t as though the Confederacy really needed that many more advantages in this battle. That didn’t mean that what they were about to do wasn’t going to be surprising for the terrorists, and worth the trouble for the Confederacy.
“Officers, make sure everyone know that Operation Nightfall is beginning. Their COs should have befriended them. As soon as it starts, make sure they know to pick their targets quickly and take advantage of the surprise.”
“Sir!” One of the majors called out from his perch, catching the attention of the woman. “What are we to do of the reports of rodian’s with the enemy, sir?”
For a moment, she paused. There was no room for hasty decisions in an environment such as this one. No matter what happened, the terrorists would turn whatever the Confederacy did against them. If there was one thing this group seemingly excelled at, it was twisting a narrative to fit their desires. After the moment had passed, she looked to the major. Where her smirk rested previously now was pulled into a tight line of unhappy thought.
“Make it known to all ground forces. Unless the Rodian’s they encounter are wearing are colors, they are to be treated as plainclothes enemies. We know that the entire populace was taken away from this place. They are to use stunning tactics if at all possible, but do not let these dogs use people as meat shields again.” There was a pause for just a moment, as if the woman was trying to remember something for earlier. It took a minute, but a quick look at the holotable refreshed her memory. "Ah, yes, and inform both our men and Rodian's that we are working with that a woman named Prennis Keeoli
has set up a field hospital on fifth street in a theater. Could end up being quite useful."
The orders seemed to satisfy those in the room. Comms were beginning to be sent out, and within moments, all their men on the ground would know the situation they were being threatened with. No matter what, her people would not be jerked around and toyed with again. They were in control here.
Operation Nightfall was only the first step in the tightening of their grip around the enemies throat.
The sounds of the six-legged machine digging into the streets as it propelled itself forward echoed through the hull. It was rhythmic, almost soothing to the Captain’s mind. Over and over and over again those legs dug into the ground, each time reminding the crew of the power and speed of the vessel they were in the belly of.
Command cabins of Scorpions were notoriously small, and were among the most disliked of all of the armor options that the Dauntless could employ. While Maxilius didn’t have too much of problem with it, a little extra headroom so that whenever their walker rounded a corner just too tight he wouldn’t have to be mindful, otherwise having the threat of slamming it into the metal top. He could only imagine the hardship that some of the taller men and pilots must go through piloting these things.
Despite the deafening sounds the legs made, a call out from the radio operator was still able to be heard loud and clear in the headsets of both Maxilius and the pilot. “Captain! Just got a comm from command. Operation Nightfall is to go through early. Figured you would want to know.” From his position in the command cabin, stooped down and hunched over, there was little that the Captain could do beyond flashing a thumbs up in the direction of where the comm’s officer was sat.
“Heard you loud and clear! We’ll be ready.”
From the navigational data, they were coming up on the main street now. Maxilius’s walker, quickly followed by two others that moved to flank his, burst out onto the street a few hundred meters from where it appeared as though a group of terrorists was being strafed by some strange looking gunships. Seemed as though this part of the operation was proceeding smoothly enough. Now, with his and two other walkers blocking their path, it would be quite interesting to see what they would do.
“Sergeant Chance!” Maxilius called out to the man, reaching out and tapping his shoulder to gain his attention doubly so. “Tell the other walkers to hold their fire until the air group forces them closer. Our three walkers will hold this line, and make sure the others begin to constrict the side streets. Let’s box them in!” The sergeant gave a quick salute in response, starting on his duties as Maxilius began to look out the walker’s periscope viewfinder.
It would only be a few more meters until this group of sad individuals would be close enough for missile range. As soon as they were, their day was going to get much worse.
The vessel at the rear of Lo-Notar’s Fleet was a monolith. It screamed through the Force, the suffering and pain that was inflicted within its halls unable to be masked at such a massive scale. Discordia’s Vengeance was a magnet, a beacon of the Dark, should one seek it out. Pain, suffering, anguish, madness. All were experiences, sensations, and fates the Epicanthix was intimately familiar with. The domain of passion and pain were his to command and inflict as he saw fit. The mind was the most important aspect in battle, the deciding factor of battle was settled within the mind. If it was persuaded or even its will eroded, the body followed suit.
He knelt in his personal “prayer” chamber aboard the ship. Even it still echoed with the distress of the man he’d left to unravel days prior. His armor weighed him down, seeming to press him down under the weight of it all. It was the only thing anchoring him to his current reality. He felt as though he was floating within the recesses of his own body, extremities tingled and the voice of Svea growled loud and clear through his skull. “Make. Them. Pay”The fate of H.O.P.E still rested heavily on his fractured being, he allowed the Scintilla and the Tower to go unprotected in the rush of battle and their people paid the ultimate price for his failure to act. His head jerked quickly to one side from the mounting anxiety he allowed himself to feel, the tightening of his chest caught in an invisible tourniquet. A tic.
Kyrinov swayed, vaguely aware of the wolf pacing to his left, intently watching the door for signs of movement. His sword lay at his side, singing in response to the anguish all around them. It was a quiet process, allowing the Dark to pool into him, swelling within his body. Soon it would be time to unleash it, but, for now, he tempered himself and allowed the Dark to wash over him in a blistering, stern embrace.
His ear strained to hear footsteps enter the chamber, Anat moving to sniff at the man whom she was not too familiar with. Even though her companion seemed to trust the man, she was the one that kept him safe so double checking even those she knew was imperative to fulfill her role as his protector. Kyrinov himself did not move, he hardly seemed to breathe, the only sign of life was the faint rise and fall on his armoured shoulders. “I did. This place,”nodding towards the door to indicate the ship they were on, “seemed to be the most appropriate for your first lesson. While the setting and circumstances are not ideal, the presence of the Dark Side is easy to draw upon here.”
It seemed, impatience was a vice for his newest Apprentice. He was eager to get into the thick of things. The man turned weapon was not yet used to the idea of not being used, for lack of a better term. But, he lacked refinement. He was too unpredictable, too untrained to be sent into the field. If the Sith unleashed Valkur now, he’d endanger himself, his allies, and their enemies all at once. He needed guidance, and that was where Kyrinov came in. “Can you feel the Dark around you? Pull from it, gather it slowly into yourself. Do not force the connection, just allow it to flow. Control will come later.”
The door opened quickly and a flashing display was held up for the Sith to see. The woman holding it was a fairly new operator aboard the battlecruiser, he recognized her as the Navigation Officer's adjutant. "Chaplain, a new fleet arrived in the system at the rear of the main fleet and have opened fire. Will you be able to begin the objective soon? It's a madhouse up there." For moment, he did not respond and merely stood as an initial reply, looming above the pair in front of him. "Soon, yes. Your orders remain the same, we stay in place and offer support from afar. The fleet can hold its own." The Lieutenant nodded and left without another word, whether she believed him or not was up to her. His eyes shifted back to Valkur, expectant.
Adjusted Location from rear of the fleet to the edge of the Talay system
NPC informing Kyrinov of Kiff Brayde's fleet entering and opening fire on the main AoC Fleet above Talay to acknowledge Kiff's actions
Edits made per a request by Kiff Brayde in the OOC Thread
Haastal Haran
+
Subject 73 Red
+
Draconis Sederius Wolf
+
The Monster
+
Shuklaar Kyrdol
( friendly )
Gabriel Volturi
( fire! )
Safira Haran
as he led Omegas out of the war room. "Cut those pinkies off the hand - aye, ma'am," was his delayed reply to her question about kicking ass before he passed into a warehouse hall. He began double timea nd they were out into the wee hours of the morning soon enough. From here on out until first contact, Omega would be adhering to radio silence. Holding up his gauntleted comm, he made a show of silencing it, sound and color all, and motioned the squad to do the same.
