Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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FN-999

Guest
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LOCATION: CSILLA - NIO TRENCHES
ARTILLERY:
30/12
ALLIES: NIO & CO | In relative proximity of Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe / Enedina Tal Enedina Tal / DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran / Major Bennett Hall / Halketh Halketh / Tyrell Lockhart Tyrell Lockhart / Ziroka Ziroka
ENEMIES: DA MAW | Engaging walkers and NPC units under Lirka Ka Lirka Ka / The Mongrel The Mongrel | NPC units engaging Maestus Maestus / UX-0626 UX-0626


PAX IMPERIUM
N I N E S

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In the front left quarter of the trenches, a platoon released a collective sigh of relief.
For all its ferocity and willpower, the sole Maw warrior charging into the area had fallen limp to the ground a dozen meters away. After observing their fallen foe for several minutes to ensure that it was not feigning death, they turned away to secure their canteens and take cover before the nearby droid walkers crushed them underfoot.

Her sinew and muscle churned, forcing themselves to reconnect, meat pulsing and convulsing as she was slowly remolded once again. And for a moment, she waited. Letting in a breathe of cold air that stunk of spent blasters, letting the sweet tang of blood lick across her tongue. She was alive. And they would suffer for it.

In a flash, the beast of metal showed her true nature. Flinging herself to life once again: the Monster landed on all fours, bounding forward , like a monster a charging reek that sought only to maim and kill.

Just as the last machine gunner was leaving his nest, he froze in place. Were his eyes deceiving him, or was the Maw warrior rising from the dead? He blinked furiously, shook his head, and even took off his helmet, but the being was still rising, recently brutalized flesh reconnecting as if each chunk was a piece of a puzzle.

"It-it's coming back to life!" cried the trooper, a note of fear entering his voice.

His squadmates could sense the genuine anxiety in his voice, and instantly knew that it was far from a joke or battlefield illusion. They truly were dealing with an immortal foe.


"Return to your posts and give the undying monster everything we've got!" ordered the trooper. "We need to pin down that thing for as long as possible. If it overruns our part of the trench, our entire first line could be in danger. Let FN-999 know about this immediately."

A fresh new wave of rifle and machine gun fire erupted, all directed at the rapidly advancing Maw elite. They fired with reckless abandon, knowing that they could never "waste" extra plasma bolts on an enemy with the curse of revival after death. All that mattered to the platoon now was preventing the cursed warrior from entering melee range, where it would surely be unstoppable in the face of mere combat knives.


Another explosion rock the commander bunker, reinforcing that the politician had long overstayed his welcome. Time was running out.

“My good man,” the Vice Chancellor said, turning again to Nines. “Could I so bother you as to request a priority transport be summoned? I fear my time in your fine company is nearing an end.”

Two trench lines back in the command bunker, FN-999 was reminded of a brutal reality.
There was a Maw superweapon in space, a cannon with the power to destroy entire planets. Reports had come in from air wings recording the destruction of a large portion of a fleet in the first blast of the armament, and guesswork was barely needed to figure out where it would fire next. Ultimately, holding the trenches would be in vain if they were all atomized in an instant.

"Very well, I'll call up part of our relief force to get troops off the ground." replied FN-999. Additionally-"

Then she began towards the bunker once more. Moving even faster than most are ever capable of.

"Lieutenant Legion Commander, a small group of Maw elites with Force aplitude have snuck through the first trench line and are currently fast approaching your location." reported a lieutenant of his. "Additionally, Chiss auxiliary allies lost visuals on them less than a minute after they crossed the trench and a undying foe approaches our first line. How should we defend ourselves?"

FN-999 first turned to face the Alliance's Vice-Chancellor, the most valuable person in the room by a long shot. The lieutenant legion commander had always had mixed feelings towards the Galactic Alliance, but now was not the time to remember national grudges extending back decades. Indeed, time was of the essence.


"Vice-Chancellor, a small detachment of the 409th will personally escort you off planet while I hold the fort here." stated FN-999. "If I don't catch up with you later to retrieve my troopers, assume that I died with the planet. I wish you the best of luck."

Grabbing a master key from the pocket of his waist belt, the lieutenant legion commander gestured to a dozen idle troopers and their equipment strewn across a distant corner of the room. As they rose and armed themselves with rifles and machine guns, FN-999 slid the key into the back of the exterior lock and watched as the automatic steel doors slid open, revealing a dirt-lined tunnel leading up to the snowy line of the rearmost trench.

"After you."

"I say again, Officer Iʀɪᴢɪ'ʀᴏᴋ'ᴀᴍᴍɪ, Aide-de-camp to Irizi'ro'kanto, requesting target on Papa Quebec Zero Five Nine Zero Nine Eight Zero Three.... eight degrees, two-hundred meters. We've got an enemy sniper taking out NIO machine gunners and Chiss soldiers!" She broadcasted this on a wide frequency for the allies.

For the first time in hours, FN-999 had a swift and succinct response.

[Officer Iʀɪᴢɪ'ʀᴏᴋ'ᴀᴍᴍɪ, this is Lieutenant Legion Commander FN-999, currently overseeing the defensive trench lines. I currently reassigning four stormsnipers to the coordinates you listed to deal with this hostile threat.]

As skilled as their opponent was, surely the combined firepower of four of the New Order's most accurate elite long-range marksmen would spell their foe's demise. The four troopers marked by their distinct blue pauldrons were already stationed in the second line of trenches, and merely had to clean their scopes of small snowflakes before they were fully prepared. Each positioning themselves four to ten meters apart from each other at random distance and height intervals, they together scanned the plateau through their sniper scopes, searching for a hidden shooter.

"You're the commander of this garrison, but my men do not suffer as yours do. The forward line is collapsing inward, even with reinforcement, it's time to fall back. My army will hold the line until the living are clear. Sith Lords encircle us, above and coming around from the flank. They will not be stopped as their cannon-fodder has been and this carnage will do naught but fuel them. Take this time, this reprieve I offer for your men, to make preparations to fall back to the next trench and regroup. The Perished can hold the line, over."

With a slight shock, FN-999 realized that the infamous lord of the dead had finally made an appearance. He had first seen the lord's unnerving powers over death itself on the battlefields of Bastion, where hordes of undead soldiers had thrown themselves at Sith legionnaires while shrugging off wounds fatal for any living human. The addition of his wisdom and power would give him all the incentive he needed to begin a withdrawal, which had the added benefit of allowing for faster planetary departure.

[I appreciate your wisdom, my Lord. All 409th Regiment and allied units in the first trench, fall back to the second line IMMEDIATELY. We are nearing overextension, and will likely soon need to be lifted offworld before it is liquidated. All artillery in the second line should fall back to the third before resuming fire on the thinnest spots of the industrial walkers. Almost all of the city's residents behind us have been evacuated, and our mission is nearing its conclusion.]

[Execute Scorched Earth Protocol.]


Placed deep in the concrete bunkers scattered across the first trench were hundreds of meter long cylinders of highly explosive C4. Every trooper unoccupied with holding off advancing Maw waves rushed to grab a cylinder, placing each one about ten meters apart from each other. Combined, their blast radius would consume the entire trench, turning the row into a long and muddy crater of scorched rock rather than a defensive line with useful equipment laying in wait. Even the machine gun nests were abandoned, as they too would not be spared in the detonations. To ensure the total destruction of each of the four bunkers in the first line, ten sticks of C4 were placed in each. After a mere five minutes of efficient placement, the job was complete.

"Fall back!
Fall back!! Fall back!!!"

Wasting no time, nearly two thousand troopers of the 409th Regiment suddenly abandoned their positions and engaged the mutual timer for every stick of C4 stored in the first line. They had two minutes. A mass of helmets sprinted across the depths of the trench, barely avoiding stampedes as they entered the connector trenches and joined their fresh comrades behind them. About thirty more sticks were thrown into the connector trenches as the last troopers passed, seeking to blow up any easy path into the second trench. The last displaced trooper of the 409th safely entered the second trench with twenty seconds remaining.

Ten seconds.
Five.
Three... two... one...

A boom louder than five hundred artillery cannons shook the entire plateau. Towers of dirt and flame shot up dozens of meters into the air, the first row of trenches and its connectors completely obscured by a cloud of dust. The rising dirt soon found itself combining with flash-melted snow to form a deep and thick layer of mud, likely to greatly impede any immediate advance.

Raising the volume of the sound dampeners in his helmet once again, FN-999 awaited the next move on the battlefield.
 
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Matt the Radar Tech

ꜰɪxɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ʀᴀᴅᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ sᴛᴜꜰꜰ

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SHIELDS (100%)
HULL (100%)
██████████
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SPECIALIZED SYSTEMS:
Kyber-Powered Cannons
Interdiction Field Generators
FLEET VESSELS​
BATTLE DIVISION 1
Resurgent Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Resurgent Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Supremacy Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Supremacy Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Supremacy Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Supremacy Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
ESCORT FLOTILLA 1
Supremacy Star Destroyer | 100% - 100%
Matsushima Battlecarrier | 100% - 100%
Lancer II Defense Frigate | 100% - 100%
Lancer II Defense Frigate | 100% - 100%
Maxima-A Heavy Cruiser | 100% - 100%
Raskova Heavy Corvette | 100% - 100%
CR90 Sisa-class Corvette | 100% - 100%
CR90 Sisa-class Corvette | 100% - 100%
FIELDED STARFIGHTER SQUADS
TIE/fo Fighter | x0
TIE Bomber | x0
TIE Brutes | x0
TIE/wh Fighter | x0
TIE/vn Elites | x0
TIE/wi Elites | x0
A-9b Prowler | x0


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EN ROUTE TO CSILLA > MID CSILLA SYSTEM
Bridge of the
FIV Firaxa


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Captain Thorne stood at the viewport, as he watched the cerulean swirls of hyperspace from behind the protective layer of bridge panel. The call had been received, orders for First Order fleets to move with all haste to Csilla, on red alert for battle. The data from the First Fleet, commanded by Allegiant General Gannan, had been recovered by the FIV Firaxa communications crew; so the 99th weren't going into the battle unprepared, they understood what waited, and they were ready to engage in space battle response.

The Chiss turned as he looked to a small hub to one side of the command area. In a large chair sat a small Chiss child, barely older than ten, as she remained still with eyes closed and fingers moving on panels before her. They controlled the navigation systems, the Ozyly-esehembo Force navigator hard at work bringing the entire fleet into the Csilla sector at precise coordinates. The additional benefit of having a sentient navigator was the ability to manually overcome interdiction effects - and the Ozyly-esehembo did just that, as she turned the fleet in hyperspace, and wove a complex trail through the stars and planets, with the Force and precognition guiding her.

Thorne didn't really understand it. He could apply it within his fleet, certainly, but he didn't truly understand it. But that did not matter.

Not presently.

"Reversion to real space in five minutes, Captain," The young navigator Chiss said, eyes still closed, as her head turned as though hearing something in the distance. "We will be at the coordinates you provided."

The Captain smiled grimly, as he turned back to the viewport. He let out a slow exhale, his red eyes closed, before he stomped his boot and turned and walked toward the crew areas. "All stations and crew, to reiterate," His voice was loud, firm and authoritative, as Thorne spoke to the bridge. "We will be coming out of hyperspace alongside the enemy line. Communication has been sent by Allegiant General Gannan, updating the First Order navy with persistent enemy movement data. We will use this to our advantage."

Captain Thorne pointed to weapons comms.

"Prepare all starboard broadside artillery, ordinance and dorsal and ventral cannons."

Thorne turned to the defense systems crew.

"Have our shields with power to activate on reversion, partition forward and starboard shielding."

He focused on communications and navigation crews.

"Have all escort vessels remain behind our main division line, they will emerge from hyperspace in our wake. Do not launch starfighters, we will be enacting another maneuver immediately."

Finally, the Chiss Captain turned to the Ozyly-esehmebo.

"Ensure our battle division lines are set, move any vessels required before we engage. Also have your next course prepared."

All crew and stations responded positive, as they went to work using those last few minutes to prepare the final steps to engagement. It was a well oiled machine, the crew, who had been brought on from the Captain's original vessel the FIV Voritor II. However, due to the increase in threats around the First Order region, there had been improvements made to the 99th. Additional vessels had been supplied, larger vessels with far more firepower, and the Chiss Captain had taken to new strategies and fleet formations immediately.

Now, it all came down to that level of preparedness, as Csilla was under threat.

The next few minutes seemed to drag out, as the various crews on the 99th line prepared for the reversion to the battle. Crew and officers talked between one another, statuses were updated, confirmations given. Before long, they were ready. All hands prepared, tension, fear, courage, uncertainty, positivity - a literal ocean of mental and emotional states were present, as each of the thousands of crew in the 99th prepared for what was to come.

Captain Thorne remained, unmoving, red eyes glowering on the bridge as he stared beyond the viewport.

Then - with the confirmation from the Ozyly-esehembo - suddenly the blue mottled clouds of hyperspace shifted into white lines and then star dots. And all hell presented itself before the 99th Fleet, as they emerged into a space battle the likes of which had not been seen in many, many years. The data sent by Gannan had been accurate, the formations were more or less as reported, with the fleet presented by the Brotherhood of the Maw - under command of Derix Tirall Derix Tirall - had pushed forward to engage the First Fleet away from the military station.

99th had arrived on a perpendicular offset trajectory to the Maw fleet; they were passing behind their flanks, intersecting a point in space that the Maw moved through, between the Maw Star Destroyers and the 'Mercy' battle station. It was a precarious position to be in, but when the First Order had reported a sizable fleet that included almost twenty-five Star Destroyers, the time for caution was limited.

"Open fire." Thorne said, his red eyes locked onto the Maw Star Destroyers. "Target engines and bridges."

The entire 99th Fleet Battle Division 1 began firing, as kyber-focused heavy cannons and ion cannons began blasting across the enemy fleet flanks, as the vessels under Thorne's command plowed along their trajectory. When a number of missiles, torpedoes and other explosives were fired, the Chiss Captain turned toward the Ozyly-esehembo and nodded.

"Begin microjump procedures," He stated. "Engage on my mark."

The young Chiss began doing so, even as the viewport continues to flash with green and white from cannon fire, and formulated a path through her connection with the Force. There was a lot of energy across the battle, light and dark, but the concept of those aspects or alignments was unknown to the Ozyly-esehembo. She remained focused, calculated the path needed to move through the battle, and pinpointed a position in space to aim toward.

"I am ready."

"All vessels hold fire, allow hyperdrive control," Thorne ordered, as the command was relayed to the 99th. "Engage microjump."

The Ozyly-esehembo did just that, as she sent the 99th on another short burst of hyperspeed, angled below the battle proper to avoid impacting with other vessels in the wide open area of space. And after several moments, the fleet emerged once again, on the opposite side of Csilla away from the battling forces. It would give the 99th time to turn, realign and prepare to engage on another front to assist the allies arrayed in the system...

"Well done. Now, ninety-ninth, adjust shield angles, bring us about, prepare for fleet engagement once again."


 
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SIA_TASK FORCE XESH
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BYOO | CSILLA | ABOARD PK 1 MERCY
JSTP | WHITE CURRENT
WITHOUT ME
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Navigating through space and making it to the hangar seemed like it would never end. She grit her teeth through the entire entry and eventual arrival to the superstructure.

Like running her hands through a tidepool, Maijan dragged her fingers through her perspective of the constant undertow. With each step, her immersion deepened. Ripples from her impact fluctuate and undulated around the collective Task Force as they were submerged beneath her concealing currents. Kingsley, Viribus and Maijan were entirely unseen to the naked eye. Allyson would have been to, but she darted off readily and Maijan merely shrugged and made a face at her two counterparts that remained, eager to be free of further oversight. The bomb at the base of her skull was good enough to keep her dutiful.

The hangar was massive. Bigger than anything she'd ever seen before –– the vaunted lines of the durasteel seemed to go for kilometres and kilometres in an endless horizon of metal.


“Alrrright, weapons systems and engineerring...

Kinglsey..wherre would that be…?”


Fumbling around, despite being invisible, was a frustration on their timeline. Nevertheless, they made several turns after leaving the hangar –– left to their own devices. The promise of freedom and a bomb not exploding in their necks motivated to keep them forward moving.

She made a face, glancing back at the two others only she could see.

Arcs, curves, unsightly bits of the structure that jut out hideously as part of its construction were material, but not sentient, and therefore steadfast in the ebbs and flow of the current. It was unexpectedly...grey.


“Y’know..I was expecting morrre bones, or idols..”

The many ripples that she could see, feel, experience, belonged to all the bodies that existed on the weapon. The Jedi were here. The Maw were here. The Sith were here. This was expected. Xesh just had to go...around all that hullabaloo.

A shard of ice coursed through her body, her skin rippling into shivers and she clenched her fist to stop the team by some means of signalling only they could see beneath her protective shroud. The entire station vibrated –– and though it was unseen, Maijan could feel the terrible power permeating through the Force that connected them all.


“It firrred..” she murmured, her marbled skin paling at the realization. The words tasted like ash on her tongue. It fired..but at what? If anything, this only heightened the necessity for them to hurry up and get this dirty work over with.

Her fingers tapped against invisible strings, pulling and teasing to see if they responded.


“I think...frrom this way..” The Fallanassi murmured, taking the lead to pull her invisible counterparts down a corridor that lead to a lift.


TASK FORCE XESH | Kingsley Kingsley | Viribus | Kirk Korrado
SUPERVISOR??? Allyson Locke Allyson Locke
PENDING.......
| COMPNOR | Rohak Vizsla Rohak Vizsla | Rika Hiro Rika Hiro | Joren Loft Joren Loft

 
Location: Csilla, low Orbit/ Surface
Objectives: Save as many Lives as possible.
(Evacuate Charnel Temple's bridge)
Allies: GA/CIS/Defenders
Enemies: Charnel Temple Crucifix Destroyer
Tags:
Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock Teica Giraan Teica Giraan Tu'teggacha Tu'teggacha

On the small screen Korum hunched in front of the image of a captain on his bridge flickered to life "We read you, Noga, If this prisoner has knowledge of the incoming forces, he should be interrogated immediately. You may bring him aboard." A smile curled onto his face hidden by his helmet. The response was wonderful. Not only was a good portion of the bridge being shown to him along with its crew. But, they also seemed desperate enough to take him at his word.

Korum was going to relish what he did next.

He kept the line open talking while searching the bridge behind the captain for the helmsman. Oh Thank goodness you've answered! I would be honored captain, but Im afraid your ship is in grave danger. And, It's imperative you know whats coming for you. Now. Korum paused briefly before continuing. On my way to you the Alliance scum broke down revealing there is a spy on your ship. And, what's more they've placed a toxin in various critical areas. He'd now spotted the helmsman, and through the force began applying light grip slowly increasing in pressure on the man's trachea.

"It's Insidious They designed it to cut off oxygen by destroying the windpipe, it's untraceable, and can even enter through the skin rendering masks useless. Whats mo- Oh No!" Korum feigned worry as the helmsman dropped to the ground. "It's already happening You don't have much time captain you've got to get your men off the bridge now!" he shouted as he choked two more officers one of which was on comms, ending the transmission only once they both were dead.

Korum then sent a message to the Anaxes reading only "Take down that destroyer's Shields." He and the mechanic sat in silence for some time, waiting before he turned and asked him "I'm terribly sorry, but what's your name?"
 

1st Dunwall Irregulars (The Devils of Dunwall)

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Allies: DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran Enedina Tal Enedina Tal FN-999 Major Bennett Hall Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter

Engaging: The Mongrel The Mongrel Lirka Ka Lirka Ka Chimera Chimera UX-0626 UX-0626

Personal Loadout: a DC-17m Interchangeable Weapon System, a vibroknife, and a pair of brass knuckles.

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Part One: A Tad Too Close

Test of a Man

The forces of the Maw had battered the trenches time and time again, and each time the DI and their allies pushed them back. Despite all of their best efforts, their enemies just kept coming. It seemed that their numbers were endless, and every one of them was as rabid and unwavering as the next. Tyrell knew that they would likely not be able to hold the trench, but in the end, he didn't care. At least, not for his own life. If today would be the day, then he'd rather it happen fighting alongside his people.

As they continued to maintain their lines,Tyrell could see the TodHusars dropping in from the sky. They began to land throughout the trenches, plugging holes where others had fallen. To top it off, good ol' Barran had dropped off some new toys for the DI to play with. All seemed to be looking well as they regrouped and continued their diligent defense of the planet...

Until the line was broken.

The Maw's numbers had finally proven to be more than the first trench could hold back. As they came pouring in, Tyrell barely had enough time to coordinate his men.

"Keep 'em in the first trench, lads! Don't let these chites through! Bayonets, blaster butts, bare fethin' knuckles... I don't care what you lot 'ave ta do! DO NOT LET THEM THROUGH."

He was able to blast the first one that came pouring into the trench. He didn't have enough time to get the second one before he was on him. Tyrell took an elbow to the chin as the crazed marauder slammed into his face. The man hit like a speeder bike. Luckily for Tyrell, he'd taken stronger punches to the chin. As the wild Maw soldier threw another punch, Tyrell was able to weave away, drawing his vibroknife and catching him in the side of the thigh with it. The man, if you could even call him such, screeched in a rage of pain, almost as if he were a feral animal. He slammed his crude, blunt weapon into Tyrell's side, sending him into the wall of the trench.

Tyrell didn't even have time to stand before the beast was on him again. He had to think quick. With a quick roll to the side, Tyrell was able to get a hold of his blade that was still lodged in the leg of his enemy. In one smooth motion, he dislodged it from flesh and bone, and swept a long cut across the back of his opponent's ankle, cutting the man's Achilles tendon. The man fell to the ground, screaming in pain and anger. Tyrell was able to finally find his footing again, looking down at his enemy as it crawled toward him. Tyrell was finally understanding his enemy...

They wouldn't stop. Not until they were put down.

Tyrell approached the man, stepping down on his back as he leaned down toward him.

"Yer a tough one, I'll give ya that. Ya made one mistake though..."

He promptly plunged the vibroknife into the back of the man's neck.

"Ya picked a fight with a devil."

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Part Two: Backs to the Wall

The fight continued as Tyrell and the DI fought a bloody melee in the first trench. Luckily, Tyrell had a moment to fix his vibroknife onto his blaster, using it as a bayonet as he continued to cut down everyone in his path. In the heat of the fight, the young man Arryn Thatch had returned, covered in dirt, blood, and snow. He held a comlink out to Tyrell.

"For you, sir. It's the Brigadier-General."

Tyrell quickly snatched up the comlink.

"Demon One 'ere, I sure 'ope ya got some good news for me."

<<'Demon One! This Brigadier-General Barran! Rank means nothing here, though. This is a plea, lad. Protect the future, the legacy of Tal's Galidraan.... Keep Lady Enedina from harm as long as you can, I intend to return. Enjoy the toys I left for the lads in the trenches. The Blue-Hearts will be back before ya know it! Blue-Heart Alpha out!'>>

"Copy that, sir. Got yer toys, my lads are already puttin' 'em to good use. I can't make any promises, these chites just seem to keep comin'. What I can promise ya, is that Tal won't fall while I'm alive. Any o' these bastards want her, they're gonna 'ave to get through me an' mine. Good luck to ya sir, 'ope to 'ear from ya again soon. Devil One out!"

He handed the comlink back to Arryn as he ended the transmission.

"Right, now look 'ere, lad. I need you to get back to our lads in the second trench. Tell 'em to concentrate any fire they can at the forces 'eaded for Tal. Our priority is to keep 'er in one piece, got it?"

Arryn gave him a quick nod before running back to the second trench.

A good lad, indeed.

Tyrell quickly made his way through the pandemonium of battle toward Enedina's position, killing all in his path as he pushed through. The lady had been ripping people apart with a shovel, and the bodies piled around her as she swung with glorious ferocity. A true daughter of Galidraan. Tyrell couldn't help but to think of how proud her father must have been. He put a round into a nearby member of the Maw as he approached her.

"Looks like you're 'avin' a real 'orrorshow of a time 'ere. Didn't want ya to steal all of the fun."

He gave another one of their enemies a swift kick in the leg, breaking it and causing the enemy to fall. Tyrell quickly followed it up with a point blank blaster shot to the head. It was quite the slaughter they had been dealing, and yet, they just kept on coming. Eventually, Arryn once again found his way to Tyrell.

"Sir, we're pulling back to the second trench. Scorched earth is a go."

Tyrell didn't have time to protest. He knew that they had to move fast in order to get the charges planted. He turned to Enedina, getting her attention for just long enough.

"Time to go, now. We're gonna blow up the 'ole fethin' trench. Lets move."

He turned toward some of the nearby cylinders, picking up two and handing them to Arryn.

"You take these an' plant 'em on yer way down the trench. Spread the word an' let the lads know that it's time to do what we do best. We plant the bombs, get out of 'ere, and blow this 'ole thing away. 'Opefully we can take a few of them with it. Now move!"

The young man proceeded down the trench as Tyrell picked up some of his own charges. He knew these cylinders would be potent, as his boys had helped put them together before the fight had begun. He began making his way to one of the connector trenches, placing the cylinders in key spots along the way. He finally made it through, as did the rest of the DI. As they proceeded to reposition themselves along the second trench, the blast went off. The entire first trench, along with the gun emplacements and bunkers, were reduced to little more than a heaping pile of muck and snow.

Tyrell took a second to catch his breath. This would likely slow them down, but he knew that the fight was far from over...

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POST III
GALIDRAAN FREE-STATE

THE_STORMCHASER

OBJECTIVE 1: HELL FROZEN OVER

COMMONWEALTH FORCES: Enedina Tal Enedina Tal Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter Major Bennett Hall
Tyrell Lockhart Tyrell Lockhart Alais Kaun

ALLIES (NIO): Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar Tyrell Paxxus Tyrell Paxxus Halketh Halketh Tulan Kor Tulan Kor
FN-999 Gallius Orcana Gallius Orcana Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock Julian Qar Julian Qar

ALLIES (GA/OTHER): Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Liza Liza Korum Krov Korum Krov
Himm'vaun'merek Himm'vaun'merek Kaleleon Kaleleon Ziroka Ziroka

ENEMIES: Kascalion Giedfield Kascalion Giedfield Lirka Ka Lirka Ka Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren The Mongrel The Mongrel
Maestus Maestus Khaostra Devoid Khaostra Devoid Chimera Chimera UX-0626 UX-0626

CALLSIGN: BLUE-HEART ALPHA

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)

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized/Artillery/Infantry)

201 Repulsorlift Tanks (-19)
5 AT-ATs (-15)
12 AFVs (-8)
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


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Barran's Ideal Battlefield VII

<"Pencin to Blue-Heart Alpha! Still no visual on the tango, Milord. But we've got a visual on the mountain trenchlines. How do we proceed?">

'We veer right, and give as much breathing-room as we can to our north-facing allies an' commonwealth brethren above. Small mercies, but they'll become something greater if we get our next few moves right. Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

Whether his temporary-2IC approved or not, Barran would be taking on the thickest concentrations of hostile activity with the split-off forces he had at his disposal, knowing well how wild it was about to get for them. Starting with differing barrages of AP and Carbonite shells, Lord Erskine had the intent to exploit the fact the Maw elites rushing the first layer of trenches were overextending themselves in the assault. Lirka Ka, in her own untameable way, had made a mad dash through the first layer of trenchline defences, carving through the brave bayonet-fixed charges of those who were still trying to hold the line; but, much like her allies, her wild dash for Nines' command-post would prove detrimental for as long as they persisted in their advance. The Brigadier-General could see what the latter-mentioned had brought to the party, and immediately turned to his map-holographics and flipped them to a complete colour-blip top-down of the battle itself, intending to find a way to trap his advancing foes with them.

Gigantic droids, standing over 200metres tall, brought to Csilla for the single purpose of destroying everything that stood in their path; but they never considered what the Lord-Commander would plan on inflicting upon their exposed left flanks, or their poorly-guarded backs for that matter. The only thing between them and the trenches was a contingent of a more-conventional nature, charging for the same trenches with a Twi'lek woman leading from the front, so Barran knew the resistance from their intended north-to-south surprise attack would start out consisting chiefly of giant droids trying to turn and face their new opponents. Such sights would provide aid in helping Barran completely miss seeing the spectral form of his own son, staring on at the cosmetically-blemished Saga as it passed him by with a loud engine roar through the snow, quiet like those peaceful nights leading up to the NIO's landings on Csilla.
Good job we brought young Coyle wae us, my drinking-buddy's on his way wae Julian Qar in his retinue. No wastin' this chance.

Just as the Lord-Commander's gaze drifted back to the frontal viewports, the rapid-succession of launches the MLVs he'd assigned to the mountaintop trench-fortifications could be seen lighting up the skies in the distance; but Erskine would be little prepared for what he saw next, and nor would his poor ribcage for that matter. Seeing the MLVs and predator launch-platforms' projectiles on their upward arcs, they would begin to dip down again roughly twenty metres below what looked like the rotors at the stern of a giant naval ship in the sky, following the trajectory of the rockets as they revealed the gigantic starboard quarter, beam and bow in the snowfall.

'Big chonky mad frigate, minn!'

'Murdo!', Barran shouted out through wheezes of hilarity, also recognizing the insignia emblazoned on the ship in question to his own further-intensified mirth. Even though his exclamation was mostly to stop his senior-crewman from making his giggling worse, the Lord-Commander was also trying to get Murdoch's attention to say,'Did ye see who it belongs ti, though? I chit you not, it's actually Haskler's lot! Aw the Imperial exiles are out in force the-day, man! Just the right amount o' madness for me, an' say whit ye will about the Anaxes contingent, but there's nae doubtin' they know how to make a stylish entrance! Phe-nomenal!', once his giggle-fits had calmed down enough for it. Once the lads had a good opportunity to cheer and whoop at the prospect of Anaxsi reinforcements making their job easier, Erskine couldn't help but notice how keen Alais was to get into the fight, but also noting how keen she was to jump into something more difficult as he turned to mutter,'Plenty overpowered opponents to choose from, Kaun. You could test your own hardware on any one o' them if you wanted.... Alais Kaun plus exosuit equals hell for the supposedly overpowered.'

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Barran's Ideal Battlefield VIII

'Barran to Cataphract One! Place twenty tanks at this location, and open up the line so yer no aw bunched up the-gither when the return fire hits. They're aiming for the troops charging the trenches on my mark! Cataphract Two will have a position to hold down the line, but I have his comms-channel, so leave the rest to me.'

<"Wendall to Blue-Heart Alpha! Sending orders to the relevant datapads now... And good luck out there, Milord. Show these karkers what Cataphracts can really do!">

'Naturally, Leftenant. Naturally.... Blue-Heart Alpha out!'

With his remaining 200 cataphracts and their accompanying vehicles, the Fighting First would veer off northwards into the thick of the blizzards that beset the world around them with the intention of making more strategic stationary placements along the way; starting with another fifty at the halfway point, Barran would leave the larger contingent in Cataphract Two's command as he used the snow's eye-straining cover to traverse in a wide, looping northwest arc in their attempt to get behind the mass of giant droids marching on the trenches. With his remaining 150 cataphracts and 20 AFVs, the Brigadier-General would slowly veer around and outside the periphery of their mechanical foes with ease, but the hard part was still yet to be endeavoured, despite the high-stress of attempting to keep a mass of loud engines at their lowest possible collective-rumble in the attempt to take the droids by surprise.

Once the lion's share of Northern-Galidraani vehicles made it within a safe distance of the enemies lying directly to the south of their position, Barran would order the entire formation of Cataphracts to spread out in a wide, south-facing mobile static-line, with orders for the AFVs to hang back and punch through with them, but only as soon as the right conditions for a collective charge south had been carved out by the smoothbores. Much and more was to happen between then and the eventual advance-breaking charge, so everything else would be attended to from a safe distance behind the main cataphract line, two wide-spaced lines deep but still wide enough to offer a view of the trenchlines whenever the snow ahead subsided long enough to offer a decent view, though these intervals would only appear for a few seconds at a time; however, this was enough for someone observing the right flank to notice the presence of eastward pushing friendlies, and a particular presence of whom the Lord-Commander would be happy to see.

<"Pencin to Blue-Heart Alpha! Comm-chatter from Cataphracts One-One-Seven and One-Four-Two report sighting friendlies to the southwest, Milord.. It's the Carlaci Corps, and they've made it behind the third layer of trenches! Heat-signatures and snapshots indicate they've relieved the forces inside and around the NIO command-post. Looks like Haskler's lads can push through to meet us after all!">

'Barran to BRV One! Always nice t'hear when a drinking-buddy arrives on the scene, even better when he makes the right moves.... Perfect timing, so stand by and load up on HP shells. I have something of another idea brewing, blame the thermal optics!'

<"Copy that, Milord. Passing the orders to all the relevant datapads now, BRV One out!">
I can see why Tal can rely on this one, here's hoping Pencin actually lasts the Woad's pace.

As the loud clunking of gigantic flat-soled footsteps slowly faded in the distance, the Brigadier-General could almost guess the overall distance between the Fighting First Brigade and their giant-droid opponents, and even more still, Erskine could even tell how long it would take for the main mass of giant droids to reach the trenches on the mountaintop ahead. These conditions would prove ideal for smoothbore snipers, but the Lord-Commander couldn't help but wonder how proficient the Northern-Galidraanis were, especially in the aforementioned regard. The Fighting-First had held the line and pushed their foes back many times that year, something Barran clearly admired about them; acquitting themselves magnificently on Bastion, Archais, Generis, Ziost and many more battles as NIO-loyal units, and probably many more as exiles, but all Lord Erskine could do was wait and see if they tested the limits of their long-range shooting capabilities, an irritation that wasn't too easy for the Woad-born general to repress at the time.

<"Pencin to Blue-Heart Alpha! All the south-facing cataphracts are locked and loaded, and waiting for the command.">

'Good! Time to test the abilities o' the smoothbores, like the record-holders you'd been before we started gettin' silky on you. Open fire!'

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Barran's Ideal Battlefield IX

The high-explosive ammunition was hitting the lower backs and the backs of the sky-scraping droids' legs with a well-trained accuracy, though the targets were still within the factory-predicted limitations of the Cataphracts' smoothbores, and by four-hundred metres or so by the time the first shells had first been shot in a southerly direction. Some would lose momentum, some would be shunted forward by the shells' detonations after impact, yet a few among the giant droids had lost their balance completely, falling down to a manageable altitude for the barrel-incline capabilities of the Free-State's favourite main battle-tank. Some of the Cataphract crews would briefly switch to armour-piercing ammunition to deal with those titans who'd fallen on their backs, making quick work of the foes they knew not to assume were shut-down so easily as Erskine discussed the intricacies of his plan with the Saga's most-recent passenger.

'The name o' the game here is to shunt these giants with oor shells, an' far enough that their big feet get stuck in the first layer o' friendly trenches! three-hundred metres between each one, so they'll drop safely if they fall backwards and forwards. They're only half as dangerous when they're off their feet, but that level o' subtraction is one that I find most-accommodating for a mass charge at whatever remains.... Perhaps then we can get you close enough that you can show us what that exosuit o' yours can really do, eh?'

A few double-impacts to the nearer droids would send them careening into the backs of those nearing the trenchline, and it was in the following moments that Barran realized they had tapped into the same distance-shooting capabilities that his own subordinates had discovered in themselves. The thermals were picking up the heat-signatures left by their high-explosive shells, making perfectly visible targets to engage in a seemingly-freeform method of smoothbore sniping; the thermal-lenses for the simplistic periscope-optics devices offered no gauges on distance or wind-direction whatsoever, which had amazed Lord Erskine in a way that left him speechless for a while, in complete awe of the Fighting-First as an apex mechanised-brigade in it's own right. Snapping out of it eventually, Barran's goosebumps would return with renewed intensity, bringing him back into focus as the droids began to attempt to counteract the new threat that Tal's subordinates presented.
Every damned battle, like clockwork.... Those shivers, can't help but believe there's more ti that!

'Barran to Cataphract Two! Fire the Carbonite shells!'

The giants were predictable, even most of the crewman on the ground knew the droids on the flanks were the only ones in a position to break formation and deal with the nuisance at their backs; the right flank was well-and-truly covered with their entire path to the trenches cleared, so it fell on the giant droids' left flank to double-back and draw the focus of the Northern-Galidraani threat from the other droids, suffering under the well-placed pressure of Free-State's armoured might already. To make things worse for the, Barran-dubbed,"Skyscrapers with legs and feet!", the giants assigned to double back would have their legs made brittle by high-impact Carbonite detonations, enough that the weight above became too much and snapped the thick-plate metal with ear-stinging snaps that could be heard as far as ten kilometers away.

<"Moore to Blue-Heart Alpha! Targets decked, Milord. Switching to AP shells as ordered!">
Incredible, my goodness. I think my own subordinates may have some training to do. When we're done here, back to Bastion

'Copy that, Cataphract Two. Nicely done, keep it up! Blue-Heart Alpha-'

As soon as Erskine was about to finish signing off, the trenchline ahead lit the horizon like a flashing white strip of light, giving way to dimmer, vibrant reds that threw out a collective shockwave powerful enough to destroy every giant droid within the worst of the blast radius. Their allies' display received collective shouts of amazement from all who were watching safely from within the Saga, but the immediate destruction was just the beginning of the shockwave's catalyst effect, as the blast itself was powerful enough to knock most of the droids within range onto their backs and send a massive dust-cloud careening northwards that lost it's bite (and force) by the time it reached the Brigadier-General's battle-line. All the active smoothbores would kick into action once all the upward-aiming barrels had lowered to acceptable inclines, opening fire as soon as the recognisable clunking sounds of the turrets settling into place could be heard on either side of the Saga's position, a hail of destruction that turned the little white dip in the region's topography dark grey with thick metallic debris.

'First Brigade, this is Barran! Your time has come to lead the pack once more! If our allies wish for us to act as the cavalry, then lance our foes in their backs we must! God save Galidraan, gentlemen! ALL ACTIVE UNITS - ADVAAAAAAANCE!!!!'


 
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The Devil | Kavar Lok Kas'Oni

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Equipment: Necrosis Armor and Sword
Crusade Location: Thrawn's Rest, Csilla | Current Location: Warlord Encampment

Foe: Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar
Foolish Adversaries: Csilla Defenders | Loyal Sycophants: Csilla Attackers
Crusading Forces: The Dread Crusaders

Post Theme: Overlord
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As Thine had expected, the New Imperials rained fire down upon the Devil's defenses with a wide dispersal of ever-changing firing patterns, clearly intent on breaking through the shield generators that had been set in place to prevent what they indeed sought. Thine looked out through the tundra, trying to see where in the fields these projectiles came from, but the constant barrage of debris and explosions crackled and clashed with his electro-sight - the unfortunate curse of being ninety-percent cybernetic.

Consequently, his thoughts turned to the aforementioned intent and what they sought with it. Destruction of the Sith and all they held dear - particularly those of the Devil himself. Thine thought little of these desires, for he knew that they were of a futile nature. If the Devil could so blatantly resist death's unyielding grasp for as long as he had, such measly insects as these Imperials would not be able to deal out that final blow to end his reign.

Still, Thine was not the Devil, and the Dread Crusaders - as mighty as they were - were not the Devil. Not even close. They were mortals, pure and simple. And before them, in their aegis' of argent and cobalt and black - traversing the snow and ice with ease in their machine coffins - was an army of mortals who had clashed with the Sith for nearly a decade now, give or take. The army of the Slayer, Irveric Tavlar. The army who defied Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex himself during his prime and waged war upon Darth Prazutis Darth Prazutis with an unending reserve of spite and forged and re-forged hatred. A contempt - nay, a pure loathing - that could quell a Sith Master's own for all but himself, including himself. This made the battle a challenge for any detail, true as true, but those of Convergence would relish the chance to overcome it.

Thine knew this to be true as well when his electro-sight fell upon those machines in the front of the advancing lines. Massive monstrosities of wheels and metal as thick as a Houk's stupidity and as unbreakable as a Hutt's greed. Truly incredible masterpieces of construction that the New Imperial Order was more than intelligent to bring to battle this day. To say that he felt a pang of worry when these titans of metal suddenly increased in speed to a near-blitzing charge...well that would be something he could have admitted had the fear of the Devil removing his head not been greater. Orders down those frontline trenches resounded through the air and into Thine's cyber-ears, as did the sounds of the blaster cannons being charged up, the rifles mounted, and the tanks behind said trenches taking aim. None attacked, however, as all awaited the order of the Crusade Master.


"Lord Thine," the voice of the old man of the Oracles called up, the man having returned once more from the back trenches. "Do your eyes fail you!"

The Crusade Master snorted and rested his arms on a crenelation, cyber-eyes blazing with an intrigued glare. A direct charge into the defensive lines? This was...out of the ordinary for the Imperials, at least from what Thine had heard tell from the Devil. Did they seek to surprise them with this tactic? It sure did take them off guard as those in the frontlines were much more hurried than before to ensure their weapons were readied to fire at a moment's notice. Only then was Thine's attention brought to the shields enveloping the Dread Crusaders. Once solid and only appearing to sight on impact from the shells, the shield now flickered and stuttered from each heavy impact.

EMP rounds.

Thine looked back to the trenches - each and every one. Where the Imperial Order had favored unified lines - to a point, apparently - the Dread Crusaders had made their name off of organized chaos. A lack of cohesion that still held cohesion. He wondered silently if it would still be able to pay off this day, and gave off an invisible smile.

The orders had become louder and louder, yet there was no fear in any voice save that of the old man. An elderly, frightened man who had seen things no man should ever have to see, terrified of his own power, pleading with his master from below:
"Lord Thine, lay your eyes upon these fools! Sound the attack before they overrun us! Sound the attack!"

Thine was then quiet for a few more moments...thinking, pondering. The storm and smoke of the artillery prevented the locating and identification of those firing off the EMP rounds. The monstrosities charging now would prevent any such action and counter-action to those blasted heathens as well from the frontline trenches. The attention of those more materially confined would have to be diverted to the more pressing issue of the advancing tanks, which could not be stopped due to the self-deflective drawback of non-ship-based, rapidly deployed energy shields. It was genius, really.

"Tell the Helgardi to prepare their spears and wrist-blades. Conscript Corps are to keep with their blasters. Short-ranged. Devil's Chapters are to operate on a mixed level - seventy-five, twenty-five," the Crusade Master sternly ordered the Oracle. The old man made no comments as he once more corrupted his body by reaching out through the Force to each Priest throughout the frontline trenches. The subsequent response from there was a unified howl.

Thine then called out through the Force once again, this time to the Oracle who was likely preparing to perform his normal duties as a Priest. Unfortunately, his master had other uses for him:
"Old man...you are to use your gift as I commanded. Identify the location of the enemy firing off the EMP charges, now."

The old man sputtered as he did before, "My Lord, I..I told you that doing so would be careless and...I beseech thee, call upon someone else, I cannot-"

Thine maintained his temper, although the cool fury was unmistakable in his tone: "Your duty is to God and God alone. He gave you your gift, and it is your duty to repay him for it. Use it now and perceive the location of these vile heathens so that we do not fall with ease this day. Understood?"

"...I apologize, Lord."

There was only the sound of rolling wheels and harsh winds as Thine awaited the response from the Oracle, now turning his gaze to those in the backlines, where the men and women of the Crusaders gnashed and gnawed at the sights of encroaching battle. How they longed to join it. To spill the blood of the Imperials. The ranting and raving from within the encampment were similarly ravenous, the roaring and howling of those in the frontlines traveling with the wind and enticing a blood rage. Soon, it would be quenched.

But first, the matter of the EMPs. The Oracle came back from his vision at last, his voice ragged and torn. The Crusade Master looked upon his feeble form and could sense his already aged organs rapidly rotting, falling - melting - dripping into the chasm that was his body, indicating his depleted usefulness.
"My Lord...the...to the...right...through...the snow and...fire...release...them...they...a-are...c...lo..."

Thine responded only by severing the link, knowing that the old man would soon drop to the ground - dead as he was the day the Devil gave him his gift. He could not see it, not with the interference of snow and ash and debris falling from the flickering shield, but the old man was never wrong, as defiant and frightened as he was. The Crusade Master cracked his neck - a terrible sound that sent shivers through the spines of the snipers and wall-mounted defenders awaiting the first sign of organic life in the trenches - and moved to the rightmost portion of the wall. Nothing but tundra awaited his sight, but he knew the old man had seen true. His electro-sight quickly shifted to the closest units to the area most logically holding the enemy in hiding.

The predominant things there that could be physically seen were the A.P.C.'s holding more conscript troops and another tank unit. The former was set to be deployed to the larger battle, and the latter to support said deployment. It would be useless to send them in search of what could be a mass of artillery vehicles, somehow cloaked. They would have to wait, wait until the shield dropped.

No. What lay there, under them, was something greater - having been hidden for the purpose of shock-attacks of the enemy's flank during the construction of the encampment. It was this very reason that the Crusade Master wished they did not need to be released just yet. Especially not just by himself. In another scenario, he would have commanded a Priest or two to have rushed over there had the threat of artillery not be as...disruptive as it was now, and the Slayer's turbo-tanks were not performing a charge to end all charges.

Still, it had to be done, if the defense was to have any success in holding.

And so, with a roar in the language of the Devil, the Crusade Master channeled the Force through his corrupted limbs. The smaller of the cages were far easier to lift, and, in fact, were rather quickly lifted and placed onto the tundra's fields. The largest cage, however, which was the size of three men, was far more difficult to lift and nearly shattered the bones in the Crusader Master's arms, the desperation and necessity being the font of strength that gave him the ability to perform this feat.

For a moment, there was only silence in his senses. Not even the winds could be heard. Not even the thunder of the Slayer's charge. Only the buzzing sensation of the command he gave those that lay within the cages, some frothing and raging in a forced slumber, and others seething in silence. Then, when it was complete, they broke free in a tenth of a second.

First to charge into on the hunt were the Mornfangs, beasts of such savagery, even the Devil had trouble controlling them when they first came to be. On all fours, they slobbered their way through the snow, pained by their very existence and looking for someone to take out their unending agony on. Next were the Ofïglë Sĥûjazze, the lion's pride of the Warlords, who clashed their shields and halberds together in a joint snarl of unity before galloping off to join their hounds in the hunt. They would perhaps throw the Imperials they encountered off guard due to their more orderly, and rapid, tactics. Finally, in an unnecessary show of power that sent splinters of metal across the field that very nearly skewered the A.P.C.'s behind it, was one of two Jek Zûtbo. The living anti-vehicle monstrosity that had the sentience of a human and the confidence of the Mandalore. It uttered nothing but a deep, gurgling laugh before charging off to follow its kin, ready to hunt down those that would dare insult it with their meek ranged attacks.

The first of the Sithspawn had been unleashed, earlier than wanted, yet exactly as needed. It would certainly not stop the charge of the Slayer's turbo-tanks - nothing short of the planet's destruction could stop that. But it would hopefully prevent the avoidable slaughter of the Devil's forces before the battle could truly begin.



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OOC:
  • Prepared Frontline Trenches for the charge of Tavlar's Turbo-Tanks
  • Located General Area of Siege Armor
  • Released the First Batch of Sithspawn to hunt down and disable
 
("BFG Division" by Mick Gordon plays)

Maple viciously gunned down another Maw brigand, a savage in scavenged armor armed with an axe. His head was insta-gibbed by twin blasts from her Dashade Pistols.

Suddenly she was surrounded on all sides in the snow, villains at all angles. They had tried for a mass attack.

The madness interfered, she thought she was in a public park until a bolt smacked into her shoulder, sending her tumbling into the snow and back to reality.

Only quick thinking saved Maple fom being riddled with multiple blaster bolts, pulling up the shrapnel from nearby wreckage to fend off the incoming bolts, fighting off the hissing voices in her skull long enough to direct her two pistols to float above her, firing based on where she heard the shots coming from, even adjusting for the postion their heads would most likely be while aiming. She didn't get all of them. She got half with this tactic. But it was enough to seriously freak out even these psychos, many of whom began retreat in total pants-chitting fear for their lives.

Maple fought the voices and whispers as they got louder, making her momentary shield, flutter, allowing a bolt to get through and graze her leg

Her pistols flashed through the air and killed the one who had done it as she rose, whispering a healing spell she had learned long ago in Darth Maranon's stronghold. It was weak, currently, but it slowly started to reverse the wounds as her rifle floated up, shooting the last of its ammo up to kill her remaining attackers.

Maple was up, grabbing her rifle, when she spotted Lirka Ka Lirka Ka rising, shredded beast not too disimilar from what she regularly faced amongst Brain Demon Cultists. Gods she hated having The Amalgam as a baseline for comparisons.

FN-999 seemed to have realized the threat, because he was blowing up his own side likely just to fend her off.

Maple tried to open fire, but her rifle was empty. She frantically searched the nearby dead, grinning evily as she found a Mandalorian Assault Rifle, firing a powerful semi-automatic shot, and instantly began unloading in Lirka's direction, not just telekinetically firing her immediate weapons on her person, but others nearby as well, all aimed frighteningly well, trying to hit her in her face and limbs.

It was not just her and the NIO arrayed against her. Miranda the Plus Prototype finally got in range, sheath retreating on its left arm to fire its built in particle beam cannon at the Abomination.
 
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Location: Csilla, Eastern Ridge
Allies: Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren , Maestus Maestus , Lirka Ka Lirka Ka , UX-0626 UX-0626 , Chimera Chimera , Khaostra Devoid Khaostra Devoid
Foes: Major Bennett Hall, Liza Liza , FN-999, DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran , Tyrell Lockhart Tyrell Lockhart , Himm'vaun'merek Himm'vaun'merek , Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe , Maple Harte Maple Harte , Jabez Melidoru, Halketh Halketh


As the duel between the Jedi and the zealot raged in the ridgetop trench, the battle elsewhere shifted. Explosions ripped through the first line of trenches, a scorched earth tactic designed to deny the Brotherhood what they wanted most: hand-to-hand fighting in close quarters. Although they had successfully forced the enemy back from the trench, they would not be able to take cover in it. All of their fighting and dying in the open no-man's-land had only gotten them a dozen meters of progress and a new quagmire of mud and slush to wade through. The defenders, still ensconced in their trenches, had the same advantages as before.

Artillery continued to rain down on the dwindling attack force. Dozens of walkers, large and small, lay broken open in the snow, shattered by the enemy's big guns. Lirka Ka Lirka Ka and her assault droids were the spearhead now, with few big vehicles left to support them; most of the Brotherhood's remaining AT-STs and AT-M6s remained in their own trench lines, well behind the current battle. A relief force was being assembled from those last armored units, something to break through the armored encirclement DECEASED Erskine Barran DECEASED Erskine Barran was all too successfully carrying out... but it would take time before any new charge could be mounted.

In that time, the lives of the Maw survivors in the first great push hung in the balance. Most of the Moon Children were gone, killed either by focused fire in the initial charge or during the brutal fighting in the first trench, and that left the remaining marauders to struggle through the snowy ruin of the enemy fortifications. The Brotherhood's best chance for victory lay in its powerful and brutal Force-champions, armies unto themselves, the likes of Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren , Maestus Maestus , and Chimera Chimera , who could wreak havoc wherever they found the enemy and weaken the resistance against Lirka Ka's push... but the enemy had powerful Force-champions of their own.

On the eastern ridge, it was increasingly clear that the Bloodsworn flanking force had been cut off from the main battle. With the crevasse filled in and enemy guns watchful for any climbers in the ravine, there was little they could do to support the primary attack from their current position. Determined not to be cut out of the glory, and without The Mongrel (distracted by his dance of death with the Jedi) to command them, they began to consider abandoning the ridge and rejoining the desperate charge toward the second trench. But then a communication burst crackled over their comms, and the brutal marauders found a different opportunity.

They dared not peek into the trench to see if their leader was dead... but against a Jedi in close quarters, surely he had to be by now?

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Location: Expeditionary Library

The Bloodsworn had received Khaostra Devoid Khaostra Devoid 's call, and they had arrived in force, burly tribesmen carrying heavy weapons and eager for battle. They had abruptly gotten a far greater chance for glory than would have been possible out among the trenches: they had been given a back door into one of the most treasured enemy vaults. They descended through the long borehole in the mining rig's wake, glow rods lighting their way, feeling the weight of the earth above them. When they emerged, it was in the middle of something they had no use for: a library. Chuckling darkly at the foolishness of civilization, they began to cause havoc.

The Expeditionary Library was a pinnacle of Chiss achievement, a hidden record of all their encounters throughout the unknown regions, kept on physical copies in order to avoid any damage through data loss. The damage it was about to experience, however, would not come through electronic error. Bloodsworn marauders hooted with violent glee as they toppled shelves and set fires, tearing through the revered place like bull reeks in a crystalline forest. None of these historical mission reports and xenobiology tracts, researched over centuries, held any value for them... save as fuel for indoor campfires to drive back Csilla's frigid weather.

Those few security officers who had survived Khaostra's initial emergence stood little chance against the zealous horde. They were cut down where they stood, pierced by swords and ripped apart by scatterguns. In the meantime, the more level-headed among the tribesmen searched for the one who'd sent the transmission that had brought them here, the patient huntress who had been working in the background of this battle the entire time to achieve this secret infiltration. They found her and her EV droids by following the screams. "Lady Khaostra," the Bloodsworn elders said, dropping to one knee as they came up behind her, "we are at your service."

They would follow her commands. They would become the knife sinking deep into the enemy's back.
 

She should've never asked the question. Despite the signals Sylvia tried everything she could to push the realization away, but Ellie's non-committal answer hit her like a brick. It was too late to recreate the bond they once had and yet, she still didn't want to accept that fact. Her actions had consequences, but no amount of acceptance of blame was going to make her feel ready to face them. A silent and pained Sylvia hit the accelerator. She had twenty minutes to come to terms with the knowledge this was very likely the last time. If they were even able to get there before that destructive blast got to them too.

What the feth am I thinking?

Her life and that of millions of others were in danger and countless had already lost theirs, yet she couldn't stop thinking of something so trivial in comparison. Quite frankly, she hated herself for it.

Sylvia didn't say a word during the ride. She tried her hardest to forget she had a passenger while she navigated the hills, using hard yanks to the left and right to get the speeder to cooperate. It wasn't outright impossible to control but her ribs and shoulder protested against every turn, leaving the spacer wincing. Perhaps that was for the better, though. It kept her grounded and her thoughts on the terrain before her, instead of getting stuck in the swamp of emotions in her head.

The spaceport where Sylvia's ship was waiting was a small one. It had already been abandoned by now, as far as the woman could tell while they approached it. Surely, goodbye was coming now. At least they'd have one, this way. Sylvia would at least get some level of closure out of this, even if it was going to hurt. Part of her hoped she was overthinking everything, that the state of stress created by the catastrophe looming over the planet clouded her judgment. It was vain, but she hoped nonetheless.

The speeder kicked a few times as it came to a halt, causing Sylvia to let out a pained "feth me" as one hand went to her ribs. Short breaths were less painful to take in, but didn't particularly help with calming herself down. "Here we are," the spacer announced before dismounting, stubbornly pushing through the pain.

The spaceport wasn't much more than the hangar itself. Peering into the open doors and gates, only one more ship could be seen parked inside. Sylvia was relieved to see it was hers. "C'mon, let's not stand around." While she didn't run, Sylvia wasn't walking slowly either. She swallowed, now facing the very real possibility that their goodbye was coming very close now. "You, uh, sure you don't want to come along? You're free to. I can also just drop you off wherever if you'd rather have that. Just to get you to safety."

There it was. The rambling, half-backtracking, and fear of saying exactly what she wanted to.

"I mean... I'd feel a lot better that way, knowing you're safe." Silence. Her hands balled up in fists as they came ever closer to the hangar. She had to say it. It had weighed too heavily on her heart for too long.

"A lot has happened, I know. I just..."


Say it, you fething idiot.

"I miss you, Ellie."

She couldn't bear to look at her.
 
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Chancellor Emerita / Advisor of State
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The Queen's Gambit
LOCATION: Alliance One, approaching Csilla
OBJECTIVE: II - Preservation of Liberty
ALLIES: GA // NIO // SJC // Lightside
ENEMIES: Brotherhood of the Maw // Kuric Taumin

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"Ma'am we need to evacuate immediately!" one of the officers roared as red lights flared on the deck of Alliance One. The Chancellor stood from her overwatch position and felt the ship shift sharply underneath her feet, sending her reeling forward. She gripped the arm of her chair and prevented herself from falling to the ground. "What's happening?" she asked, stabilizing herself just in time to feel another shockwave ripple through the haul of the ship. The sensors indicated that a number of red dots were clustering around the massive flagship of the Chancellor, but somehow she hoped she was too naive to interpret those dots correctly.

"We're being boarded," a phalanx of guards and military officers formed around her and it was clear she was about to be whisked to safety. Perhaps coming to the front was not the best idea she'd had, but she had to see for herself if the vision that the Jedi had was true and, if it all possible, try to stop it from coming to fruition. Too late. She gathered her cape in one hand and descended with the escort onto the bridge and toward one of the doors. Somewhere in the ship she could hear fighting... somewhere that was much closer than she expected, but the hallways she was being taken down was almost completely empty save a few soldiers checking corners as she rushed along.

The old woman thought about the havoc that their attackers would wreak on the ship and whether any of this would be happening if she werent on it. Probably not. But, given the fact that she was present likely meant they had been sent to capture or kill her and they would likely tear the ship apart looking for her. A pit formed in her stomach. "Captain! I need to use to the facilities," she stammered, coming to a stop near a door that she knew from her more leisurely trips on Alliance one led to water closet. "Ma'am?" The man looked like she had just struck him over the head, but she didn't give him time to ponder and pushed past the guards and through the doors. "I'll only be a moment!" As the door closed, she heard him command a few of the soldiers to go ahead and prepare her escape.

Adhira looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, wondering if she had well and truly gone mad. Then she tossed the cape off her shoulders and headed for an alternative route out of the restroom and into one of the wide service corridors. She headed back in the direction of the bridge.

The Chancellor knew that if she abandoned ship, there would likely be no mercy for anyone the Maw expected had let her slip through her fingers. She couldn't leave them at their mercy. Fortunately, when she reentered the wide command deck, the Maw quickly followed. There was a split second where she locked eyes with one of the creatures and he bellowed her name.

“The powers that be would like to speak with you. Come willingly and I will not have the Brotherhood decimate this ship!”

Everyone from her side in the room seemed horrified to see her standing before them again, but she simply put her hands up in a show of surrender and stepped forward. "Very well. I will go willingly... but in return, you will depart this ship and leave the crew untouched," the deep timbre of her voice was steadier than he thought it would be staring down the barrels of several blasters. She wanted to think to herself that she had some clever plan, some card to play or something up her sleeve. But she didn't. She simply did not want to see more people die on her account.

 


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Objective 3: Duel of the Fates
Location: PK-1 “Mercy”
Tags: Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo | Jayda Vanator Jayda Vanator


Jedi nonsense. Pointless banter.

Kryll loathed their self-righteous ways, they only held the galaxy back from achieving their true potential. One must be tempered through the fires of trial and tribulation, the Brotherhood had shown him this truth, in the end he found himself agreeing with the Sith.

Peace was a lie.

The Jedi blurred into motion, his movements hard to track due to his innate connection between mind and body in near perfect synchronization. This speed and precision rendered a dangerous situation before Kryll and his ally Jayda Vanator Jayda Vanator . This was no padawan but a fully trained Jedi Knight they faced, even for seasoned killers it was a serious challenge to overcome.

His eyes followed the Warden of Peace’s movements, the master swordsman reacted as expected putting up a guard to block the incoming strike with his filament edge, sliding his hand into readiness to parry away the Jedi’s weapon. He never got the chance to act, the lightsaber deactivated as his weight pushed forward against the now nonexistent guard moving him off balance as his opponent slipped around Kryll.

Again he was caught unaware, before he could strike a blow in retaliation he was spirited away by the magnificent power of the Force. Sent to his death at the spinning flurry of sabers soon to resemble a meat grinder. Everything came to a slow crawl, once more cast aside in humiliation at the hands of a Jedi. Once more powerless to the all encompassing command of one trained in the Force. The Maw had shown him the way, was he too weak? Could he not grasp the reigns and become greater?

Death awaited, but it was not his time. He scrambled into the depths of his hatred, his anger for being so weak. Feeble.

“Noooooo!”


It came again the crashing shadows that spilled from his hate, the black miasma that passed over and possessed his feelings. Metal peeled from the walls as he nearly came within reach of @Jayda Vanator’a sabers, panels crumbling and groaning as the steel twisted unnaturally. His body diverted by a Force of it’s own, crashing violently into the nearby wall.

Kryll breathed deeply, the impact likely having bruised a rib or more. None of that mattered, his blood was on fire, his adrenaline pumping as he rose and with a blood curling roar charged the Jedi Knight with newfound strength behind him. He rose his weapon high as he came to and feinted, dropping himself into a human spear to try and put the Knight onto the ground.

He was going to kill him, pulverize his face until nothing remained.



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The 9th Imperial Battlegroup
"To the Hilt"
| Task Force Baritone
First Imperial Shock Trooper Contingent
Stealth Shuttle 109773-AG
Rolf Amsel, Commanding
Status:
#####
-

"Two possibilities exist... Either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." ~ Arthur C. Clarke

-

Lieutenant Colonel Rolf Amsel had been around long enough to grapple with the question many times over. Were there gods? Was there a God? Battles had been fought, won, lost, and yet the man was no closer to an answer. One moment a shimmer of hope for the galaxy, the next utter despair. Good. Evil. Neither had been able to fully tip the scales one way or the other, towards Order or Chaos. They have tried, he mused.

It had begun with scurried reports, whispers on the proverbial winds of the galaxy. Then come to fruition. The exact scope of things was largely unknown but what intel they had acquired bode ill for the Chiss Ascendancy. More specifically Csilla. It was more than a 'Stone's throw' from First Order space but that hadn't kept the First Order's brass from designating the defense of Csilla a priority diplomatic effort. It made sense tactically, diplomatically it would be a win as well. The so called threat of the Bryn'adul had been below their notice on account of its distance but this threat was different. It brought about memories of the Omega Crisis, those seemingly fated days bringing a frown of consternation to the veteran trooper. Already the death toll numbered in the thousands but Rolf knew in his heart this was just the first few drops of a deluge.

The veteran had remained silent, dutifully checking his weapons and his kit. What they were about to do was risky, far riskier than most of the missions he'd been on. Mustafar included, and it was there he'd nearly lost his life at the hands of Aver Brand Aver Brand and another - a fur clad Mandalorian behemoth. It was there that Rolf had finally begun to come to the conclusion he now rest on. There is no god. With a final once over completed Rolf looked up towards the latest arrivals, a voice echoing in his mind. "If you're on time, you're late!" As any good trooper he'd arrived almost fifteen minutes prior to their disembark and secured his additional equipment. Who knew what they would find when they reached their destination. If they reached their destination. He grimaced. There was no use in being grim now, what would happen would happen. So spoke the fates - if one believed in such a thing as destiny or fate.

"Ahh, the cavalry has arrived." he spoke loudly down the boarding ramp. A subtle heft of his weapon in greeting. "Glad to have you boys along.. and gals." Beneath one arm the Lt. Colonel had the signature helmet of the First Order trooper Corps, though this one was darker. The design was specific to the 9th Imperial Battlegroup whose bulk of force remained in reserve, but Rolf had modified his with Reflec material in place of the porcelain of the standard issue. "We'd best get going while the gettin' is good." His adopted Alpinn accent sneaking out in a lazy drawl. His accent had reverted to that of Dosuun for the majority of the time but several phrases and statements would still hint of a twang.

 

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The Dark Side was strong.
The Dark Side was absolute.
Death and destruction were the orders of the day as Csilla burned, its skies choked with ash and its lands littered with the bodies of its native sons, foreign defenders, and insidious invaders alike. Such devastation was unmistakably contributing to the thick miasma of dark energy which wreathed all of Csilla in its noxious embrace. Each death, each act of violence taken by either side contributed to the growing darkness, and there were not enough Jedi to counteract such engulfing shadow.
Carnifex slipped into this web of death as easily as it was to slip on a coat, basking in the negative energies which rushed forth from Csilla. The skull-faced helmet he wore greedily gobbled down what it could, transferring that energy into the ritual he was conducting. One by one, the obelisks down on Csilla's surface began to light up with radiant scarlet energy, crackling with lightning, and pulsating with unnatural heat that melted snow and ice.
The clouds above each obelisk grew heavy and dark, maelstroms appearing all over the planet visible even from high orbit. Lightning struck the ground, carving great wounds in the planet's surface accompanied by a great howling roar as the wind picked up to beyond hurricane speed. Those cultists that found themselves in the eye of these storms willingly shed their own blood, adding their own deaths to fuel the mystical machine which snowballed strength with every passing moment.
Those that died on Csilla would be stripped of their vitality, sickly green light rushing out of their bodies in the moment of expiration and rising up into the growing storms. What remained were emaciated skeletons, paper-thin skin pulled taut over brittle bone. This vital energy was siphoned through the network of obelisks that had been erected, funneled up into space and into the ritual chamber where Carnifex continued to power his profane acts.
This vitality, these souls, pooled into Carnifex and the sword he was using as a conduit to power the ritual. The fate of Csilla mattered little to Carnifex, whether it survived or was destroyed entirely, but the people of Csilla were his to freely harvest as he saw fit. Even the dead of his own armies were callously devoured in this manner, their Eternal Father showing no mercy to his own even as they fought without fear; words of worship for his sake on their lips.
But while his body remained fixated on conducting his ritual, Carnifex's mind had expanded out to observe the events unfolding around him. What was of great interest was the arrival of one of Darth Solipsis Darth Solipsis ' prisoners, one who he quickly recognized as Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson . The scion of a dead world, one who had conspired to stand against him but had been leveled low during a punitive expedition that scoured a dozen worlds from history.
Carnifex kept his observation silent, preferring to see how it played out for now.
It was unknown if or when he would act.

 
Honneur, Patrie, Valeur, Discipline
Location: On board of the Pride of Anaxes, orbit of Csilla
Task Force 58 compostion: X101 Pride of Anaxes (flagship); X102 Audacious; X103 Courageous; CV-1 Foudroyant
Objective 4: Stop the ennemy fleet with the help of the Noga (Pride of Aanxes and Audacious) | Support allied ground forces (Foudroyant and Courageous)
Allies: CIS, Eternal Empire, First Order, Galactic Aliiance:Jedi Order, New Imperial Order, Chiss Ascendency and Independents.
Ennemies: Brotherhood of the Maw, Kainate, Sith Eternal, Warlords of the Sith and Independents.
Post theme: Zipang OST, JDS Mirai battle theme (first part)
Tag: Korum Krov Korum Krov | Teica Giraan Teica Giraan | Constantine Oliva Constantine Oliva | Gallius Orcana Gallius Orcana
Legend: Comm out, comm in, crew, ship's intercom, dive bombers' frequency



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On the Pride of Anaxes

"Take down that destroyer's shields."

Those were the words Herlock was waiting from the Noga.

"Noga, this is Anaxes. Please keep your distance from the destroyer, We might not only disable his shields, but also take it down. See you later. Herlock, over."

"Full speed ahead! All guns to port side. We'll take this destroyer down. For freedom, for Csilla !!"

The Pride of Anaxes suddenly accelerated, quickly followed by the Audacious, all their guns pointing to their port side. They quickly reached the ennemy destroyer and sarted to fire at will, with the intent to not only disable its shields, but also to sink this ship.


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Dive-bomber squadron, plane Fortis Leader. Pilot: LT Jack Daniel. Gunner: LT William Peel

"Fortis 12, standing by."

"Fortis Leader, this Foudroyant control room. What's your status ?"

"Foudroyant, this is Fortis Leader. We're entering Csilla's atmosphere. The weather is nice, at least -5 degrees, the sky is clear. Fortis squadron is ready and escorted by the Hayabusa squadron. The targeting will be easy. Fortis Leader, out."

"You know Jack, I think Foudroyant doesn't care about the weather conditions."

"We don't know, William. Maybe theyre going to land to make the bomb replenishment easier."

"All Fortis, this is Fortis Leader. We're approaching the bombing zone. Remember to not drop all your bombs on the same target. And get back home safe. That's all. Fortis Leader, out."
 
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Traumatized Carrier-Loving Mess
{Galactic Alliance Expeditionary Fleet 1 - Squadron 3 -- Standing by}

{Commodore Kathause in Command -- Aboard ANV Pegasus}
{Coordinating Rogue Squadron}
{Approaching Csilla}
{Direct Relevancy: Olen Halcorr Olen Halcorr , Albrecht F. Herlock Albrecht F. Herlock }
{1st Expeditionary Fleet - 3rd Squadron:

-Liberator-class star defender - "Pegasus" - 1500m - Flagship/Carrier/Ship of the Line
-Iblis-class missile frigate - "Huntress" - 500m - High-yield Missile Platform/Long Range Attack
-2 x Negotiator-class light cruisers - "Valkyrie" "Sonata" - 330m each - Screeners/Assault Ships
-3 x Tantara-class corvettes - "Lullaby" "Odyssey" "Ardent" - 200m each - Light Carriers/Screeners

{Sit. Rep. : THE BLUE MAN GROUP'S STILL DOWN ON CSILLA AND THE BROTHERHOOD HATES GOOD MUSIC}
"Pegasus-actual, this is Rogue Leader, transmitting coordinates now," From the comm signals to the receivers to the ears of the Pegasus senior staff came those words.

Liedran felt the elation in the C.I.C, manifesting itself in the most minor of smiles or the slightly relaxed shoulders of the bridge crew. But, in the end, they still had an enemy fleet to hold off, they still had refugees to evacuate, and they still had to save Alliance One.


"Confirmed, ma'am. Coordinates received."

"Good. Transmit them to Huntress for missile locks," The commodore waited a few seconds, then reopened the channel with Rogue Squadron, "{{This is Pegasus-Actual, good work. Regal, Tavern, and Arrow squadrons will meet you in three minutes tops. You'll make another attack run, cut down as many boarding craft as possible, but I want you out of there after that. Over.}}"

After her thumb let go and the transmission cut, she spoke again, "Dispatch the rest of Wing 1 to Alliance One."

The Pegasus shook, metal tore, and missiles rang out from both sides of the playing field. But the star defender held, and her shields stood strong. Dancing around were the Valkyrie and Odyssey, passing briefly over their flagship's dorsal hull in an effort to distribute the damage evenly and overwhelm enemy sensors. The Huntress, meanwhile, let a swarm of assault concussion missiles escape the narrow launch tubes and turreted launchers, all closing in on the Max ships bombarding Alliance One. Barely matching the pace of the ordnances were the two B-wing units known as Arrow squadron and Tavern squadron, accompanied by their V-wing escorts in the form of Regal squadron.

Liedran leaned forward, looking down as the sensor graph while balancing the heartbreaking task of monitoring the squadrons she had in the air. Her grip tightened within seconds, as distressed voices began to overlap more and more, then were silenced. Her free hand stood by, tapping against the table, and ready to call it all off.


"{This is Lancer 4, they're on my tail--I ca--}" The words were cut short, and the commodore was left shaking.

There were more, just like it. More pleas, more abrupt silence, echoing throughout her mind. And it all grew worse as she remembered her involvement in all of it.

Now hovering into reach of Csilla's atmosphere were the Sonata and her corvette escorts, dispatching their dropships for the chance to get whoever they could off of the hellscape below. Turbolasers came to a slow build up, ready to reinforce the current bombardment with short, accurate bursts.


And so, the slaughter continued.
 

Kaeli

Guest
K
Chiss Ascendancy | Brask Family
"Kaeli" | Brask'ael'inrokini
Objective II: Hell Frozen Over
-

"Ch'uscah!" A ragged breath escaped Kaeli's lips as she heaved upward against the Phrik reinforced spear in her hands. Silently it exited the flesh of the now lifeless marauder at her feet as the sounds of combat echoed in her ears. This one had wielded a heavy vibro-axe, a weapon that would have seen the Chiss woman cleaved in half save for the wide sweeping attacks that had given her an opportunity to jump in. It had taken only one nimble stab to take the man's life. Even so, her eyes burned with a vengeance.

She knew little of the Maw. She knew little of their purpose. Kaeli barely even knew about the massive space weapon above - she had lived a sheltered life in some respects. Born as a shadow child of the Brask family she had been raised in the Redoubt all her life, only now striking free of its convoluted space corridors and constantly shifting nebulae. She had been replaced, another shadow child whisked away to a place hidden from even her - a benefit and a horror as she'd found.

Carnage of the battle unfolding before her had been invigorating, the years upon years of training and preparing for this very moment had seemed fulfilling in the moment but now as she caught her breath the weight of it rest upon her shoulders like the multi-layered scaffold that was Coruscant. The responsibility, the gravity of it all was overwhelming. Gathering herself she rose, bladed head of the spear jumping up as her eyes sought out her next target. Before she could locate one the comm at her ear chirped.

:: Priority One Assignment. Communication lost in sector Bav'b. ::

That was it, a simple enough redirect. The sector in question, sector twelve, contained a large ground to space laser battery. When every weapon counted, an anti-starship ground emplacement was pivotal. :: Redirecting now. :: Kaeli grimaced. She was going to have to fight her way across the battlefield to get there.. unless she got creative. :: This is callsign Vet'ar to any friendlies. En route to sector Bav'b. ETA three minutes. ::

Three minutes would be cutting it close, she'd have to duck and weave her way across a spat of open ground and avoid getting pinned in. With the chaos unfolding, she'd be lucky to have support.


 


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Location: Chamber of War | Throne
Tags: Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson | Ryv [SOON TM] | Mar'Sika

"I had thought you were just another petty warlord carving out a piece of the galaxy for yourself, but you don't care about that do you?" He drew in a sharp breath. "Its all fuel to you," he nodded toward the fleets floating out in the void. "To what end?"

Ah yes, now he understood clearly.

The End. After that, the galaxy will be remade into any image that I choose.” His hands opened out on each side of him, “A second genesis begetting a galaxy under a new order. The Final Dawn of a Final Empire.”

His hand cast a wide arc as it glided through the air, “Imagine looking back on a perfect galaxy free from the troubles and decay of the current, a pure galaxy, a thankful galaxy.”

He felt the anger roll off the Jedi Master, the very mention of Darth Carnifex Darth Carnifex had thrown off his equilibrium. The Lord of Ession’s powerful sense of self-control abandoned him. The Elder smiled with wicked intent knowing full well an opportunity when he saw one as the lightsaber soared back into the hands of it’s master.

"Where is he?" The exile demanded.

The Sith Master’s decrepit right hand lifted and with it a near-skeletal finger stretched forth pointing the way. “There, the source of all your pain lies within. Your moment is at hand.”

And then the voice's words brought Cedric to another standstill. One name bubbled up from the depths of his mind. "Kaigann?"

“Once upon a time.”

He approached the Jedi Master unafraid, like a long last relative, like a loving father figure. “You now accept the truth.” The Elder let his left hand fall to the Essonian’s shoulder, “So few have a chance to avenge the ones they love.. to right the wrongs of the past. Why deny yourself?”

“Go on, give in to your anger. Bring the beast down.”


 
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Tags: Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo Alars Keto Alars Keto

The Jedi's movements were fast. This one was more in touch with the Force than she had with any encountered Jedi previously. No matter, this Jedi's words didn't mean anything to her. She never believed in the good of believing in a ever flowing energy like the Force. If everything was connected to it, then why didn't it do her any good after all she had been through. "Well then, let me reacquaint you're allies, Jedi" Jayda scoffed as she watched the Jedi force Kryll backwards to her. She was almost temped to grab the fellow Brotherhood member with her taloned foot, but his sudden jerk to the side saved her the effort.

Taking the opportunity to act before Kryll was inevitably disarmed or again pushed away, she activated her arm's functions. With a light scrap of metal against itself, her bulky arms split, before her hands ceased to spin and following suit. Within a few seconds, her two plated arms became four slimmer, yet equally armored limbs. With the two upper arms beginning their spinning motion again, creating the same blue and green vortexes of plasma, her lower arms activated a series of switches on the underside of her left forearm. Her Cybernetical Friend, Narsire, had tapped her into the basic systems of the floor she was going to head to; after learning Jedi had joined the conflict, she wanted a bit of 'insurance'. With a final activation, the doors to the ignition station closed, a defensive second door joining it before a Ray Shield covered the whole affair.

With Kryll bolting at the Jedi, she used her second pair of arms to draw the another pair of lightsabers. With a simple flick of their igniters, two crimson blades cast deep red light across her leg plating. Her body was alight with dull blue, vibrant green and a wash of rich, crimson red. "Let's see how strong the Force was with these weaklings!" Jayda said, knowing the Jedi could possibly feel the two Sith Crystals in her second pair of sabers. She had collected them from two Sith that had just been slain by the very Jedi who previously owned these shells.

Taking a slight bend of her knees, she darted forwards, the top arms still spinning to create two large shields, as the Sith Sabers readied for a barrage of attacks against his arms, torso and legs. Even if he was connected in the force completely, he would have to keep track of both Kryll's attacks, and her four arms that were each armed with a lightsaber. Not to mention her taloned legs could also grappled a person's torso with ease.

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CSAPLAR, CSILLA
EXPANSIONARY DEFENSE FORCE HEADQUARTERS
COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER (CIC) AUREK

CA: Ziroka Ziroka
NIO: Enlil Enlil | Julius Haskler Julius Haskler | FN-999
Opponents: UX-0626 UX-0626

Though it was the elder diplomat who seemed to have the grandest vision for the Ascendancy, but the Grand Vizier appeared more interested in a measured approach. It was apparent that the two were not on the same page.

Admitting to the New Imperial Order's true motives in Chiss Space, Enlil pivoted to the situation at hand. Irizi'ro'kanto had his suspicions, and it was the words of the Grand Vizier that all but confirmed them. Failure here could very well mean there is no Csilla to interest us. They did not intend to stop at the Redoubt. They intended to consume the whole of Chiss Space.

Now, the highest echelons of the the New Imperial Order sought cooperation with the Ascendancy. A merger of military forces, even if only temporarily. The young executive's proposal was simple enough - the Ascendancy would obtain access to New Imperial IFFs and communication channels that were being used by their military on Csilla. As far as Irizi'ro'kanto could tell, he asked nothing in return. He didn't need to ask - Irizi'ro'kanto already knew his intention.

"Upon our victory here, it is my hope that we will have earned your trust."

Kanto blinked, staring at the man momentarily.

"Yes, lieutenant?", he asked, his gaze not breaking contact. As they were speaking, a young Chiss male adorning the formal uniform of the Chiss Defense Force had stepped to toward Irizi'ro'kanto. He almost hadn't noticed the man's entrance, and likely wouldn't have if he wasn't facing the CIC's secondary entryway. It was a welcome distraction from an otherwise unwelcome discussion. Leaning his head slightly to ear the man's whispers, his stern expression cracked, forming a slight frown, the product of a fusion of sorrow and contempt.

Both his uncle and elder brother had been killed in action. The commander and engineer respectively, both aboard the same destroyer, had fallen victim to the first discharge of the superweapon in orbit. Irizi'ro'kanto would ascend to the highest vacancy such casualties presented as a Syndic for House Irizi.

"Thank you.", he said, dismissing the officer to continue his duties.

"The Ascendancy will accept the offer of access to New Imperial IFFs and communications network, in the interest of the preservation of Csilla and its people."

He offered nothing in return. If this access was meant to be a gesture of good will, it fell well short of the mark. Perhaps the Syndicure would feel differently, but to Irizi'ro'kanto, any symbiotic relationship with the New Imperial Order was destined to cease after the determination of Csilla's fate.

If the perception was that the Chiss were an enigmatic people, Irizi'ro'kanto did little to assuage that perception. Radio chatter of the CIC soon filled the otherwise quiet room. Beckoning a second tragedy for the House, he heard a familiar female voice - one which spoke his name. It was on the wide band, an open channel which saw heavier use given the abundance of factions present. Activating the table's comms, he was interrupted before he could begin by a New Imperial trooper on the ground. He would be dispatching a sniper team of their own, but Irizi'ro'kanto doubted they would be able to acquire their target in time. The request for artillery offered more immediate relief. After the trooper finished speaking, Kanto himself spoke with a measured confidence.

"Irizi'rok'ammi, Ichor Actual.", he started, this time using his callsign. "Stand by to be patched into New Imperial comms channels." CDF forces had taken a hit in the fighting, and it would be minutes before they could recalibrate to get a firing solution for the requested coordinates. The New Imperials though were concentrated in that sector. Perhaps such access would yield some benefit sooner than anticipated. Glancing to the Grand Vizier, he returned his gaze to the table. In his mind, he needn't verbally ask. If the New Imperials were offering military coordination, and the opportunity to do so was immediately before them, he expected words were not needed. Artillery, however, was. Flush out the sharpshooter picking off the comrades of his kin and let their own marksmen seize the advantage it presents.
 

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