POST X
GALIDRAAN FREE-STATE
OBJECTIVE 1: HELL FROZEN OVER
COMMONWEALTH FORCES:
Enedina Tal
Konrad Bolter
Major Bennett Hall
Tyrell Lockhart
Alais Kaun
ALLIES:
Irveric Tavlar
Tyrell Paxxus
Halketh
Julian Qar
FN-999
Gallius Orcana
Albrecht F. Herlock
Aerarii Tithe
Liza
Korum Krov
Himm'vaun'merek
Kaleleon
Ziroka
ENEMIES:
Kascalion Giedfield
Lirka Ka
Kyrel Ren
The Mongrel
Maestus
Khaostra Devoid
Chimera
UX-0626
Erskine's Loadout
Primary: Custom Blaster-Pistol (Right-hip Holster - left-or-right hand draw)
Secondary: Basket-Hilted Vibrosword Claymore (Left-hip Sheathe - right hand wielding)
Last Ditch/Second-Blade: Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapons: Gifted Brass-Knuckles from the Guv'Nah (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)
Barran's Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
201 Repulsorlift Tanks
5 AT-ATs
12 AFVs
5 MLVs
1 Coy. Riflemen
3 Plat. Combat Engineers
1 Coy. Field-Medics
Support: Tal's Fighting-First Brigade (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)
220 Cataphract Tanks
20 AFVs
5 MLVs
5 Predator Launch-Platforms
1 Coy. Elite Guardsmen
1 Coy. Elite Engineers
The Stormchaser XIII
'Right, you two.... C'mere!', Erskine growled as Alais and Tyrell caught up to hear him properly, having followed as silently as their gear or footfalls would allow of them. Looking back to find both remaining heavy-hitters taking a knee in wait, the Brigadier-General pointed to his ear and muttered,
'Comm-chatter silence until I break it, an' nae exceptions', as he drew closer to whisper the remainder of his plan, perpetually aware that the Chimera could've been hiding in any awkward blind-spot on the mountain they were climbing. Though Kaun's suit allowed her to hear the Lord-Commander coordinating the AFVs and infantry with his own device, Lockhart wouldn't know until hours after they'd boarded the Free-State transport ships to go home to Archais together, but time was much too greatly stacked against them to stop and explain the situation as it developed around them.
The sounds of war and death, the visuals of firepower and explosives, all of it felt eerily distant by the time they had stopped to ready themselves for the next phase of the rescue. The Woad would allow his soon-to-be heroes time to take it all in, letting them both regain their stamina whilst the frozen landscape descended into abject chaos on every horizon around them, watching as the freshly-reanimated corpses around them disappeared into the snow on their way towards the wildest of the distant hostilities. What they couldn't see or hear in the snowstorm, however, was the moving, whispering lips and teeth of Lord Halketh's zombies, completely unaware of what tongues they were rasping to each other, and to the realms unseen by mortal beings.
<"Attention, all allied units. This is Lieutenant Legion Commander FN-999 of the 459th Stormtrooper Regiment. In my authority as Lieutenant Legion Commander, I am increasing the priority of this evacuation from III to I. A Scorched Earth Protocol will not be in effect for the third trench, as there are no longer any unevacuated civilians behind us to delay our foes for. Instead, I want to ensure that as many troopers as possible are evacuated from the trenches and onto the ships as possible before the planet gets blown to bits and takes the Maw survivors with it.">
'Almost time for the Maw's big,"Kaboom!", is it? Shame, I was quite enjoying myself here.', the Stormchaser muttered to himself, and unlike the undead seen stumbling towards a few beleaguered Helgardians in the distance, contrastingly being unable to escape the eyes and ears of his little rescue-team. Fortunately for the Lord-Commander, the heavy-hitting duo could hear FN-999's transmission with ease, making his verbalized thoughts all the more reasonable to the ears of the rescuers sneaking in the blizzards with him. Looking back up to the curious gazes of both Leftenants, Barran was ready to lay out the true essence of his rescue-plan, pulling them both closer so he could be sure that he'd be heard in his attempt to quieten the parade-ground voice to a careful half-whisper.
'I need to meet this kidnapper alone apparently, but I'll need assurances here; taking all the potential risks into account, I've chosen roles for you both. Kaun, you'll hang back from me by roughly a hundred metres in wait for the eventual rescue-attempt order. Make no mistake, I'll be calling you to run up and grab Lady Enedina quickly - an' by the way, you'll have to evacuate with the Lord-Protector's daughter without us.... Dangers like that must be kept distracted for successes to endure, you know this, so don't be hanging around; you've been mentioned in dispatches multiple times for bravery already, Kaun. Job done after Enedina, understand?'
Seeing Alais' menacing smile through her exo-suit covered nodding-reply, the Brigadier-General smirked as he replied,
'Good, you're ready.... Move out, Leftenant', ordering Kaun to move out after watching her stand to attention. Once the order to move had been given, Kaun pivoted well in an about-turn southwards to move into position; disappearing into the snowstorm behind the Woad and the Dunwaller, clunking to a muffled silence as they watched on with an assured trust in the half-Corellian's ability to play her part professionally. Once the silence had been assured again, the chilled whiskeys came out for one last hurrah before they made their next move for Enedina's sake, though neither would be able to say whether it was pre-emptive celebration or commiseration; for fate wasn't about to reveal what would happen next, and certainly not in that calm before their predicted firestorm.
'You ready, Devil One? Eyes and ears open, sneak ahead for a hundred metres or so. Maintain yer low posture, eat snow an' stay put when ye stop. You'll be coverin' two retreats, moving with the second to make for the ACV again. Tavlar awaits, an' ah hate bein' late for battles as it is, let alone the makings of the greatest tank-battle of the decade. Enough o' that caper for now, though. Time's still stacked against us as I'm sure you know already.... Alright, better get moving.'
The Stormchaser XIV
Passing Lockhart on his way ahead, Barran would tap on the Devil of Dunwall's shoulder with the flat of his Vibrosword, muttering,
'Good, eat s'more snow an' hold position.', before moving forward again, bounding into the snowfall alone with hips low and knees bent. The snowfall would grow heavier as he continued to climb, but this Brigadier-General, unlike many others with the same levels of military-leadership prestige, relished the feeling of battling the elements he'd known since the winters he'd spent as a youth on the surface of Galidraan 3. Everything about the intensity of his surroundings, the test they presented to his physical endurance, and the life-or-death situation he was walking into felt right to Lord Erskine in that moment, letting the goosebumps run riot on his spine and follicles as the steep climb slowly-but-surely began to level out it's lower-altitude incline.
After some ten further minutes of climbing, a tiny blot on the horizon began to show in the storm, gradually becoming more visible as Erskine continued to climb, eventually drawing close enough to identify the blot on the horizon as a small outcrop of jutting rocks, and an unmoving humanoid in prone position or sprawled between them. It was Enedina, lying completely unconscious between the rocks near the summit, with the risk of being snow-covered and killed by the drop in body-temperature with each passing second; but the Brigadier-General knew then that he would need to be hypervigilant from that moment on, drawing his Fairbairn dagger with his left hand and continuing on with jaw clenched in peak apprehension.
Picking up the pace, Erskine would take almost a minute to reach the Lord-Protector's daughter, though he would be relieved to find a lively pulse when he placed two fingers on the side of her throat, muttering,
'Good girl, Tals don't die to fights like this. See you on Archais, Milady.', before standing to make a last effort to ascend to the summit. Not far to go, but that didn't matter, for he was not alone. Sitting right in front of him, with his eyes staring off into to the eastern horizon, was the kidnapper, completely unfazed by the Lord-Commander's arrival. The blizzards would briefly subside for their sake, offering a reprieve of light winds and minimal snowfall to gift the Sith and the Imperial a panoramic, all-encompassing view of the entire battle.
Despite the relatively-low altitude, the positioning of the solitary peak was perfect for the gorgeous type of views that Barran felt he ultimately bled and suffered to earn the honour of seeing, the kind of sights that the Stormchaser himself knew that very few in the galaxy, even after centuries of war, would ever get to witness.Flares, muzzle-flashes, tracers, blaster-trails, explosions, crashes and architectural collapses as far as his aging eyes could see, but his momentary, existentially-spellbound state of mind would find itself cut short by the eye-level presence he'd already spotted in his right periphery, lashing his mind into action for one last outing as he made the unorthodox choice of taking a knee in close proximity of his foe; still unmoving, sat in a non-combative posture that oozed an aura of infallibility.
'Kaun, it's Barran. I'm alone with our kidnapper now, you're clear to collect the hostage an' move out. Be quick, though.', Erskine muttered into his comm-device, though loud enough for his enemy to hear his orders clearly. Happy that his opponent remained unfazed, the Stormchaser could relax his posture slightly, knowing that he was being rewarded for adhering to the seemingly-reasonable captor's demands. Tense though his predicament was, Barran was observant enough to notice and appreciate the fact that his fire-wielding enemy was just as enamoured by the view of the distant struggles for survival beyond. Barely a metre apart from each other's shoulder, the two warriors would say and do nothing but look out into the snowstorm's respite beyond, a moment that neither would forget any time soon; neither would encounter warriors that were taken out of such moments by the sheer scale of chaotic beauty, never again would they encounter another enemy who'd appreciate the rarities of war and death with them, and certainly not in such awe-inspired fashion.
'She'll live, but you'll still end up near the top o' the Free-State's Chit-List for this.... Though I dare say I'm stating the obvious on the matter, but enough o' that lark - if you wish to return to your master in one piece, you may. I can open an escape corridor to the northwest, letting you enjoy your little grace-period for now. But if you're deciding to take the offer, tell me; is it Giedfield you answer to, or the Zambranos?'
The Kellas VII
'So you came all the way over here to tell us that we're good at war - we know. We were born for it.'
Where can I find more foes like you in this galaxy? All my enemies have been much too predictable until now, it's actually ridiculous!
What pleased the Tuath, above all the other qualities that magnetized Gowrie to the Mongrel, was the Mawite's honest belief in his life's primary drive to live and die as a naturally-gifted warrior. Everything about the statement, the absolute, unwavering confidence in the way the Mongrel stated his belief for all to hear, Lord Aron knew that many within the ranks of Barran's brigade would begrudgingly relate with that specific assuredness of warlike proficiency. Gowrie also saw much of his comrades in the dryness lacing his enemy's abrasive brand of humour, finding himself unable to keep from joining the laughter of the blaster-brandishing Mawites on either side of them. However, there was no laughter or mirth in the Mongrel's eyes when he spoke, just a deadpan, matter-of-fact expression of mild disdain that relented only for the continuation of his response.
'But yes, you're right; we have that birthright in common. We both belong here, knee-deep in blood. It's why you've been more of a match for us than we expected. It's why each one of you that we bring down brings us glory, builds our legend. You're worthy kills... unlike the politicians who sent you here, ruling over 'civilization' from their rotting thrones.', the Mongrel said, pausing to spit bloody-phlegm on the snow-covered ground between them, still teetering dangerously close to losing consciousness on the spot. As he returned his gaze to the Kellas sat in front of him, the Mongrel would growl,
'They haven't earned good deaths, on the field, with weapons in their hands. When we come for them, well...', flashing a sneering, jagged smile akin to Gowrie's before drawling,
'It won't be a pretty sight.'
With a fusion lantern being placed between them, fully lit and generating heat enough to offer the wounded commander a chance to fight the cold that threatened frostbite on all the Mongrel's cuts and burns, Lord Aron would lift it by it's handle and rest lantern closer to his opponent, much too acclimatised to the cold to give in to the alluring warmth the lantern gave off. Leaning towards the lantern had proven quite painful for the Mongrel's ribcage, letting out a teeth-gritted groan of pained exertion before continuing,
'But if you understand the purity of war as well as you claim, you know that being worthy foes only means we have all the more reason to kill each other.', with little regard for the hands that barely orbited the warm aura of the lantern itself. Lord Aron knew there would be more to it's placement, even before the Mongrel had leaned in to mutter in his usual gruff tone,
'Because you're a challenge, because you're born warriors just like us, you've given us a battle worth remembering. We'll tell tales of this war, show off the scars you gave us and the trophies we took from you.'
By then, it became apparent that the soon-to-be exalted marauder was getting to the point of gauging the Tuath's reaction; judging him on his reaction, deciding then and there if Gowrie was as fearless as his actions up until that point had indicated, as even the slightest indication of fear would mean a horrible death in the enemy trenches for the Kellas. Searing into the cold gaze of his opponent, the Mawite leaned in closer, with his soul burning like a supernova as he concluded,
'But we still aim to kill you all... so what do you want?', maintaining an unblinking malice that would've made even the hardiest of foemen shudder or flinch, but Gowrie was something more than the hardiest of humdrum foemen.
'Good, nothing worse than facing against,"St-StAy b-bAck! I-I d-dOn'T wAnt t'KiLl yOu - b-BuT i wIlL, I s-sWeAr it!", is there? And as for the other matter, it's quite simple.... You're dropping into critical condition right in front o' me, and I can't be having that - not if I wish to fight you at your best someday. Even if you survive this, you wouldn't recover in time with the butchers and the faith you're reliant on; I can't be having that either, not even maybe. To fight you now, as we both know, would mean an untimely death for both of us; and like the other matters, I can't be having that on this matter either.', the Lord-Major began, pausing to hold the Mongrel's gaze and light two cigars at the same time, staring down his foe whilst using the same fusion lantern that Mongrel was relying on for warmth like it was the easiest thing in the world for the Tuath to do.
If fate's bound us together, might as well make it the best clash possible.... An' ah'll be gettin' that in spades wae this wan, thank feth!
Leaning closer to the face of his opponent, Aron had switched from a backwards-leaning slouch to an edge-of-the-seat, knees forward-bend crouch to get himself close enough to meet the Mawite's intensity in the center; with his face inches away from Mongrel's own, the hereditary Tuath-snarl eventually showed face, with bared teeth in approval of the way his opponent carried himself. Passing one lit cigar the marauder's way, and placing the other Faslane between his lips to one side, the Kellas nodded his affirmation of approval before loudly muttering over the wind,
'So, what's happening now is you're going to be stabilized an' healed as well as can be allowed of the limited time we have, then we're going to part ways as soon as my medic's sure you're not going to die on us. The tools we have would mean roughly ten minutes of treatment, but after that, you can return to your dropships and I can finally fight against the Warlords of the Sith.'
'What? Even your friends know you deserve a wilder end than this!', Gowrie barked after seeing the look of absolute disgust grimacing across his entire facial-structure, knowing that the Galidraani offer would mean a greater, more memorable clash in the future. Relenting, the Kellas inhaled through his nostrils, shook his head and continued on regardless, grabbing his comm-device and muttering,
'AMV One, move in and move in alone.', with wide-eyed defiance. The Tuath had it decided, the Mawite no longer had a say in the matter; whether the Mongrel wished it or not, more than just the loud-mouthed opponent opposite wanted to see him prove his true worth eventually, and the reality was slowly but surely setting in that Csilla would not be the place to make that ultimate sacrifice.
'If Csilla had been the place to do it, there would've been no Force-Users getting in the bloody way - you know this! We both know I should've been duelling you instead. I mean, adhbhar Dhè! Ah've even got a regular ol' Vibrosword for the occasion an' everything! We weren't able to make that magic happen properly, an' though time was stacked against us both this time, ah know it won't be when we meet again. Gettin' they Barran-goosebumps at the mere thought of it, so just imagine how much of a rush it's going to be when we finally do get to fight each other without interruption.... The type o' fight the Brigadier-General would gladly see me gettin' intae, an' that's nae joke!'
Subject 54 Havoc
- zipped past the glasteel. Odd. Either way, with the crews loading in, the turbolift began to fill with occupancy quickly - but it was designed as such, to allow the complement of bridge crew a chance to avoid destruction by doing exactly as they were. There was little point in not learning from the past mistakes concerning exposed Star Destroyer bridges, after all. And given how widespread the damage outside in space had become, no one dragged their feet to reach a more protected location.
Teica Giraan
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Constantine Oliva
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