Junction Iron Resolve | Junction of Enclave-Excarga, NIO-Krownest

[Kranak Vizsla]

D I S T R A C T I O N

Location: Krownest, Orbit, Aboard Enclave Dropship, Soon To Be On Ursa's Redoubt
Local Time: 02:01
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Crush Enemy Opposition
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 1 + Goran’s Stand
Vode: Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Alora Vizsla | Lesha Priest
Friendlies: Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Volgin Alto | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair
Hostiles: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Engaging: Open For Opposition!

Blow Me Away​

”Unless you have to magdump a remnant.”

A feminine voice remarked on what he had said. It got a chuckle out of the giant. He turned his visor to his left, giving a glance at her. The Mandalorian’s name was highlighted above her buy’ce as Lesha Priest in the Supercommando’s heads-up display. The giant gave a curt nod of his head. <”Unless you have to magdump a remnant.”> the giant repeated with a chuckle. Perhaps it could have been considered overkill for some other aruetii opponent, but the Sith and their wretched puppets? No. They deserved it. Deserved far worse.

"I’ll just have to change my nickname to Spookdog then.”

Shai quipped in response to his remark about her being missing on their squad’s graduation photo. The giant heaved a muffled sigh. They could always take another picture! But it wouldn’t exactly carry the same sentiment unlike the one they had taken together without Shai. Emotions ran high on the day of their graduation. All that pain, suffering, exercise after exercise, training after training, seeing dozens of other Mandalorians getting disqualified in the process, worrying they too could very well be disqualified… But that day, their efforts were rewarded. They had earned the right to call themselves Si’kahya, through tears, sweat and blood. They were no longer ordinary warriors after that day.

He parted his lips to quip back at her, but the intercom speaker in the cargo bay crackled to life once again, informing the Mandalorians inside about their estimated time of arrival over the drop zone.

:: All units. 10 seconds to drop. ::

Excitement gripped his soul, coursed through his veins in response, his heart beat spiked up rapidly for a few seconds until he calmed himself down afterwards. Only a few things gave that addictive rush of adrenaline to Kranak. Airborne drops with jetpacks or rocket boots were among them, at the top of the list.

The giant stood up at the same time with the others at the mention of their ETA. Red lights flooded the durasteel compartment, casting a hue of crimson over everyone. Webgears shuffled, armors and weapons softly clacked and clattered as the warriors stood up and assumed positions, lining up in a file by the closed ramp.

”Sixteens! We make the rules.” Shai spoke up, looking to her men.

“WE MAKE THE RULES!” They shouted.

“Eliz, Vulcan, don’t stop for nothing.” She said to the two youngest soldiers in the dropship.

The sliding doors before the platoon of armored Mandalorians opened. The harsh winds of the snowstorm outside shortly filled into the cabin. The assault craft shook violently with each flak shell detonating in close proximity to the dropship. The surface underneath was completely shrouded by a veil of white from the storm. If it wasn’t for their helmets’ MFTAS, they would not be able to see their landing zone in this storm.

And at last. With a soft buzz resounding in the cabin, the red lights that had filled the cabin in a crimson hue earlier turned green! They were flying at the optimal distance to their LZ. Fearlessly and without hesitation, warrior after warrior jumped out of the dropship once their turn came. Without a moment’s pause, the giant sprinted and jumped out of the ramp as soon as it was his turn to jump. The snowstorm swallowed him whole.

The Supercommando’s helmet comlink blared as the Mandalorian paratroopers shared combat related information over the platoon net, mixed with war cries and war chants.

:: Three hundred meters to our front! ::

:: Thermals, thermals! Compensate for the wind! ::

:: For the Emperor! ::

His long black kama fluttered violently as he plummeted towards the ground on a freefall. His altitude shown on his HUD’s altimeter dropped rapidly as he glided after the paratroopers of the Sixteenth, headed for the LZ. His heads-up display helped track his fellow vode as they made their descent upon their landing zone. The warriors dodged and weaved around flak shells exploding around them on their way to their landing zone.

The pair of dark brown eyes widened with excitement and adrenaline. The thrill of combat ran through his veins. <”OYA!”> The Alor’ad roared in response with a big grin. He was going to enjoy this.

A long winded salvo of blue blaster bolts shooting down from the skies riddled the Sith Remnant defenders inside their trench. The troopers were cut down in seconds before they could return fire at the giant descending down upon them. Wailing in pain as they were shot, their plastoid armor clattered loudly on the cold, snow covered durasteel floor of the trench as their bodies fell. Faint, small columns of smoke trailed off the fresh blaster bolt scorch marks from their helmets and chest plates. The giant landed among their unmoving corpses on his feet a few seconds later. His rocket boots’ sharp whine subsided as his feet touched the ground. With no time to waste, the giant began sweeping the trench.

<”Kandosii, rally to me. Let us aid our brothers and sisters in their advance.”> The giant commanded over his squad comlink to his squadmates present for the mission as he walked at a combat pace in vigilance with his blaster rifle raised.

Several more troopers dared to oppose him during his advance towards a bunker not too far from him. A flurry of red blaster bolts struck the Supercommando a moment after the hostiles emerged from their cover. His particle energy shield glimmered with a vibrant azure where the lasers struck him as it absorbed the shots in exchange of the shield’s battery. Returning fire with short, accurate salvos at the Remnant troopers that dared to oppose him, the giant cut them down with ease, continuing his advance without stopping. The Alor’ad stepped over one of the fresh corpses as he rounded the corner; his long black kama softly caressed the fallen trooper’s armor as the Supercommando stepped over him.

The entrance to the ferroconcrete bunker laid before him, about twenty meters to his front. He could hear the heavy repeaters inside unleashing their deadly, long salvos at their targets. The troopers inside must have not been aware of the massive, armored Mandalorian intruding their trench. With haste, the giant stacked up on his own to the side of the bunker’s entrance. He lowered his blaster rifle as he reached for a D-24 Inferno Grenade from his bandolier. The giant firmly pressed down on the plastoid red cap and engaged the firing mechanism. He held the grenade in his left hand for three seconds before throwing it inside. The grenade bounced from the ferroconcrete wall opposite to him, and rolled inside. Three seconds later, the grenade exploded with a muffled snap hiss as it dispersed its incendiary payload inside the bunker.

The heavy repeater fire coming from inside the bunker abruptly subsided. The startled voices inside exclaimed in confusion and shock at first, but their guttural screams followed soon after as the Remnant troopers were set aflame. The giant raised his rifle once again as he took a few steps back, away from the bunker’s entrance. The shrieks were getting louder as they ran for the entrance.

The torched Remnant troopers flailed their arms around in hopes of putting out the fire as they ran out the bunker’s entrance. Some flung themselves on the snow covered durasteel floor of the trenches, hoping the snow would be enough to put out the fire, but their efforts would prove to be futile. The Supercommando watched them burn as they writhed on the ground helplessly. <”The trench and the fortified bunker cleared in my sector, regrouping with you soon, Shai.”> The Alor’ad spoke into the platoon net, informing the Shistavanen vod amidst the agonized yelps of the aruetiise burning before him. They fell silent soon as they burned to a crisp with their souls leaving their bodies. The Supercommando walked past them as he made his way towards Shai and her elements from the Sixteenth to regroup with her.

He would have to go over the top, as the trench he was in was not connected with the one Shai was in.

The snowstorm from earlier had dissipated by now. It wasn’t as intense as before. The hectic blaster fire and indirect fire support elements from both sides filled the no man’s land. The Sixteenth and Kranak’s elements were assaulting a stronghold, after all. Trench lines stretched about a little over a click or so to the south, after all. They would have to clear each trench, bunker and tunnel they would come across. This would prove to be a challenge for them all.

The giant had gone over the top from the trench line he had cleared amidst the battle. The Supercommando broke into a sprint as he dodged anti infantry rounds and red blaster bolts shot at him, sprinting from crater to crater before eventually reaching Shai’s position. He hopped down into the trench once he reached its edge. He kept his weapon on a low ready stance as he moved in a combat pace towards the Shistavanen vod’s position.

And there she was. She occasionally peeked out of the trench to shoot at the Remnant troopers with his men. She issued him an order amidst the battle, shortly after the giant reached her and her squad. Several squads of Sixteenth were also present, taking cover behind the trench’s wall from the incoming hail of red blaster bolts, occasionally returning fire without exposing themselves too much to the enemy.

”Kran! Those trenches are a problem! Soften them up!”

:: Alright everyone, we push up and clear those trenches once they’re softened up! We break their lines then we take the walls! Don’t stop for anything! :: She barked into her comms over the explosions and blasters around her.

“Karking hell, Kran! Give those karking pilots something to do before they go do their eyelashes again!”

<”Copy, I’m on it.”> The Supercommando stoically confirmed her order as he turned towards an unoccupied position behind the trench wall, passing by the vode from the Sixteenth. He would need to get some eyes on the target before he could call in an airstrike. The giant let go of his blaster rifle as he pulled himself up to the tall trench wall to his left. The rifle was suspended over his broad chest plate by its rifle sling. The giant then peeked his visor out of the trench, getting eyes on their target.

They were taking heavy fire from a series of bunkers and trenches about two hundred meters to their south and southwest, but the targets were not grouped up on a single cluster. The giant decided it would be best to get rid of the bunkers first before the men and women of the Sixteenth went over the top and took the trench. They could deal with a bunch of Remnant troopers, but running through the no man’s land under machine gun fire would certainly give them all a headache.

<”To all Imperial and, uh, Mandalorian callsigns, this is Dagger-5. We’re fast approaching the target area with lotta firepower clipped on these wings… just say where.”>

The giant’s comlink crackled to life as the pilot spoke, informing him and others that he and his detachment was ready for tasking. It seemed like the naval elements were now getting in position to provide support for the ground forces. <”Well I’ll be…”> the giant muttered to himself with a grin before he switched to the designated comlink channel over the com circuit to talk to Dagger-5.

<”Kandosii Actual to Dagger-5, I got a target for you fast movers. Say ready for Nine-Line, over,”> The Supercommando would continue his transmission after he got the go ahead from Dagger-5 for the Nine-Line.

The giant spoke in a stoic manner as blaster bolts landed mere inches away from his head. <”Requesting Type 1. IP Acklay, bearing zero, one, five. Distance,”> The giant quickly checked the distance from IP Acklay to his designated target using the GPS and other HUD elements in his buy’ce. <”Seven thousand meters. Target elevation, hundred and twenty meters. Your targets are times four ferroconcrete bunker emplacements. Target grid reference: one, five, zero, six, three, eight. Target marked with a red smoke,”> There would be a short pause as he would swiftly mark the target. Dropping back into the trench after transmitting the first seven lines of the nine line, the Supercommando reached for his blaster rifle and pulled open the grenade launcher’s breach. He removed the HE grenade inside, and loaded a red smoke grenade instead. He closed the breach afterwards as he took a few steps back from the durasteel trench wall before him and raised his rifle above the trench line, adjusting the grenade launcher’s iron sights to two hundred meters before firing.

THUMP

The giant then swiftly let go of his rifle once again as he pulled himself up the durasteel trench wall and peeked his helmet visor out the trench once again, looking at the ferroconcrete bunkers. The smoke grenade had landed in the middle of them. Vibrant red smoke started to trail off from the smoke grenade, marking the target. The four bunkers were set apart with twenty to thirty meters spacing between them, connected by a network of trenches. The Supercommando continued. <”Friendlies two hundred meters north of target location, inside trenches. Location marked with an IR Strobe,”> The giant reached for the strobe from his utility pack as he continued. Turning on the strobe, he magnetized it at the top of his buy’ce so it could be seen by the aerial elements. <”Requesting approach from zero four five, egress two five zero. Say ready for remarks, over.”>

The Alor’ad would continue with the necessary remarks for Dagger-5 as soon as he got the go ahead from the pilot.

 

[Dante Corvus]

M Y R M I D O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LORD-COMMANDER OF THE 173RD. LEGION "MYRMIDONS"
Michael Barran Lachlan Sinclair Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt

BETWEEN ANGELS AND INSECTS

<"We've got movement.">

A fireteam leader from the first platoon signaled out, to which Dante shifted his gaze away from Michael, and off to the direction that a trio of signals had been discovered. The Lord Commander turned his attention in that direction, muttering a few words beneath his breath in order to keep their line of communication secure. He may have trusted his father, but this Michael had not quite earned the respect of the Empire's elite. The response that followed was equally muted, the commbead in his ear switching through multiple channels as reports filtered in, and orders were delivered out.

His focus would only reshift onto Michael upon the mention of a werewolf fighting on their side. He was unaware of what this creature was, but given the existence of Sithspawn and other...beings of ambiguous heritage, he was not in a position to pass judgment. It was fighting on their side, that much he was able to confirm based on the reports he received from the squads positioned further in the distance. Something was slaughtering the Sith Imperials by the second, descending further into the basement as the blood-curdling screams lessened in intensity.

"Hmph." He grunted in return to Michael's suggestion, arms folded across his shoulders in silent contemplation. "Devaron." Words finally exited his lips, the Serennoan-born Lieutenant of Second Platoon finding his way over to his commander. "Take your platoon and some of these...Highlanders, for good measure. Assist them in locating this Lachlan, and ensure their comrade does not die."

A fist tapped against Devaron's chest, the signature sign of respect shared between Myrmidons. He pivoted away from Dante, orders being dispatched through their shared comms. A handful of the Highlanders would join them, the presence of Lord Dante commanding enough respect for the orders to be followed. Once gathered, the group dispersed back into the darkness, intent on finding this Lachlan character ahead of the main group behind them.

In the meantime, Dante prepared to greet their incoming guests. Bending to one knee, he scooped his helmet off the ground and shoved it between his arm and the side of his torso. The Myrmidons were ghosts by the time Michael provided a bit more insight into the situation, dispersed through the darkness of their surrounding environment, vibroweapons standing idle and at the ready, and blasters primed to deliver mercy upon their visitors.

Taking a step to the side of Michael, he would peer upon the man for a spell, sizing him up in the estimation of his father. Eventually, a nod would follow, the briefest sign of respect he could give in return for the helpful advice that Dante was already aware of from the start.

"Your assistance has been noted, Laird Michael.."

Raising his helmet from beneath his arm, Dante slid the battle-scarred helmet over his head, locking it in place until the audible hiss confirmed it was sealed shut. His vibro-axe loomed in his hand, idle, yet kept close by in the off chance their mutual instinctual abilities were wrong.

"Time to go greet our guests."
​

 

[Chelenne Akaris]

THUNDER
N I G H T H A W K
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
Cromwell | Faison Kelborn | Ghalric Rau | Obran | Siv Dragr

​

..bullchit.

"Do you know how to use that thing, or do you want to keep talking about it?"

The zeltron looked behind her, regretting then that she had already started the trek ahead of the pack, or else her petty scoff would have been heard. He couldn't even be original? Hello? That's the real slight. She rolled her eyes, cocking a hip deeper into her stride across the snow, and hummed, metaphorically rising above the almost primal urge to both flash very unladylike hand gestures and hurl a snowball at the side of his stupid helmeted head. He was the idiot who rode through the snow on a covert operation with a bike between his legs, not her. It wasn't her ability that should have been questioned. Chelenne's features contorted beneath her obfuscating visor and she mocked him silently, the expression on her hidden face one of a distinct lack of dignity, with all the class of a teenager whose mom had just told her to get off SpaceBook and clean her room. It was likely the woman would never forget this, that retort, and would remain petty and spiteful over it until she died.

Or until Avenger moved the throw pillows off the sofa again.

Either or.

The agent huffed, slinging the rifle from her shoulder to grasp between both hands at low-ready before her, turning that sauntering swagger she crossed the snow with into something more akin to a cumbersome waddle, the shift in stride only made more apparent as the snow deepened and forced her to fight harder for every step. Okay, so maybe the speeder wasn't such a bad idea after all. But she wasn't going to admit that. She would take that to the grave also. Her painted lips parted to riposte his plan, the woman eagerly stepping up to the plate, guns locked and loaded to blast his idea full of holes, but she was slower on the draw than one rather handsome sounding man Siv Dragr :

"That may work under different conditions, but the Camp is already going to be on high alert from our forces at the Redoubt, even if it is lightly garrisoned. If they're bold enough to thin their ranks out even further, they'd be sure to thoroughly check any transport going in-and-out. Once they find us in there, might as well have tried to blast our way in the first place. At least that way we wouldn't have wasted time stealing the transport."

Damn Mandos and their speedy trigger fingers. She attempted again, to speak only to very obnoxiously politely sigh, cutting herself off as his voice rang through yet again.

"If our snipers take the towers, then there is a small postern hatch here that we can slip through relatively unnoticed. I have an anti-security blade -- that should get us past any locks the Sith may have put in place. Once we're inside there. . . well, the hatch is for waste-disposal. They won't expect two Mandalorians and an Imp Commando coming out of their trash."

<"Yes, very good, these are all excellent suggestions, except yours, Ghost."> She had to jab back somehow, <"The implication was silence indeed, we'll need to synchronize our shots after we scout to see precisely how many operators are manning the towers. Silencers are only going to screw with our range further, so we'll need to make sure we can get the maximum efficiency out of our positioning alone. Of course, that's the next part of the plan, actually getting there, and is the little rascal of a variable we don't quite have just yet."> Chel paused in her hike, turning her head to peer up the steep ridgeline ahead.

Jagged rocks and outcroppings were their next daunting challenge, second only of course, to the posturing and inevitable estimation upon first greeting. Though the path was narrow and would require the group to turn sideways to squeeze through much of it, it was certainly doable. Provided they didn't slip and fall. And possessed the balance for that sort of venture to begin with. It would be a steep climb to reach a vantage point some twenty meters up the sharp slope, where a crown of weathered stone protruded from the snowy blankets. The wind and weather would not grant them any sort of clemency and seemed only to be growing more bothered by their presence each passing minute.

<"Hohkay, well, I lied."> she lamented, <"The next part of the plan is actually a squeeze through a perilous gap between spiky, icy, pissy looking rocks and I absolutely will not be going first."> Nighthawk twisted herself around to face everyone else, <"Sorry, I'm not wearing my fall-to-my-death boots today, so I'll be needing the tracks of someone else to walk in, thanks.">

 

[Noel Strasza]

COMMITMENT
THE_IRON_MAIDEN
LORD EXECUTOR

RAVELIN
870 ABY
​

The admission she was afforded earned a steep raise of her scarred brows, the manifestation of how the words struck her core. It made little sense to her then, even less than before in a way she did not think was possible, that he had left in the first place. What she thought she knew began to overturn and shift, uprooting itself violently from the cracks of her conscience to sow disorder where she had desperately culled the insidious spread of it. He paced the same way he always did when they found themselves butting heads or tackling problems. But there was a change, a shift, made evident in how he settled into his stance and turned toward her, keeping his eyes on hers.

He was ready to face this, at last.

She found herself questioning if perhaps, for a change, she was the one who struggled to confront it. Though she had words, a great many of them she wanted to spit and hiss at him in one incoherent flash of rare emotion, she withheld. Now was not the time for anger, this was no battlefield, and as such, she was entirely out of her element. It was as if some unseen force had stripped away her armor, that alien shell she inhabited, and exposed what little humanity was left of her. Her expression was neutralized, reined in abruptly, and her face wiped clean of any trace of it- composure restored. Though the struggle remained, little evidence bespoke it. It would've been easier to storm a castle than to face the answers he could give her.

"Then why do it at all?" She finally droned, "You and I were safe, Julian, I can't wrap my head around why you would just leave. After everything you and I endured, after everything we conquered together, was the loss of our world really what drove you away? I always did what I had to do, you always knew, ever since we were kids kicking sand in that dustbowl, that I did what I had to do. You went into this thing with me knowing full well I couldn't always be there, you knew that I wouldn't be the same as I was, and you seemed to accept it." Noel spilled far more than she meant to, but now that the gate had opened, there was nothing she could do to stop it, the catharsis of years of anguish barely relieved was all-consuming, "If all of that was a lie to spare you from having to look me in the eye and tell me you didn't love me anymore, that would have been far more merciful."

// Julian Qar \\
​

 

[Lachlan Sinclair]

TOLLING BELLS
THE BEAST OF GALIDRAAN
KILL COUNT: 10
Dante Corvus | Michael Barran | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Volgin Alto | Shai Maji | Alora Vizsla
Delilah Jones | Kovacs | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Lesha Priest

​

Born from the bleakest womb of desperation, came the curse, a gift bestowed to the devoted from the fringe deities themselves. The very lands of Galidraan had suffered, had bled, had been subjugated and tormented by one pair of hands to the next. The wars which had summoned bestial doom in ages past had ended, yet the hatred for the Sith still held his heart firmly in its hand, and each hateful squeeze spewed fire into his veins. Leaving behind a trail of devastation better left to the imaginings of those who would follow it, The Beast of Galidraan reached his first real obstacle at last. Soaked forelimbs skid against the stone, the lycanthrope struggled to find the purchase needed to halt his tyrannical momentum in the flood of crimson drenching the ground. What sense left about him was pure instinct, the creature unable to control the flames which had birthed it, and as such, he changed directions with a torquing twist of his body, bringing about his lagging forearm to smash into the metal shell barring his entry into the next chamber.

The clang deafened him further, inflicting an invisible sort of pain, but its persuasion was lacking severely, and he would not be deterred from striking a second time. Unlike the larger doors, this one was but one layer of a lesser blend, incapable of enduring the heavy punishment the exterior doors deflected, and it simply molded around his brawny paw, leaving behind a sizable dent. And another. And another. The creature smashed into the door repeatedly, each strike echoing down the tunnel to his back, growling and snapping his stone-shattering jaws with insatiable hunger, eager to be done with the obstacle and move to what it was he longed to do. He would not be left wanting for long. A final cast of judgment was dealt by his inhuman strength, the door forced to give way, and inward he plunged, ears forward, eyes up, searching for his next target.

This chamber contained the first real line of defenses for the underbelly of the Redoubt, a gunnery placement of a sort he would recognize had his temperament been only slightly better in the heat of the infernal moment. One drive cracked the whip against his back, the urge to slaughter his foes spurred his sides, and Lachlan dove into the strobing fire headfirst, unphased by the sting and burn of blaster bolts against his thickened hide and fur. Two clawed limbs wrenched the rotary gun from its tripod and flung it aside, rendering it incapable of harming him further. But it was only one of three, and he was but one creature. The gunnery sergeants called their men to arms, rallying them as the panic set in, giving the order to keep laying down the heat until the beast could take no more. But they had no grasp on what it was they were facing, no understanding, and vastly overestimated the steadiness of their troopers in the face of such insurmountable horror.

Though blaster rain showered him, burning his flesh and boiling the cursed blood that bubbled to the surface, he paid it no mind. He felt nothing, skewed nerves long fried by the druidic ritual which had birthed the "gift" ages ago, and those wrathful eyes of his had focused only on what was in front of him. Soldiers. Panicked, scrambling soldiers. The stark smell of fear permeated his nose, its reach overriding the omnipresence of his bloody warpaint, stoking his predatory urge on. Two turned to flee, a graven mistake they would suffer the price for within seconds as Lachlan leaped to them, swatting one into the other with a swipe from the back of an arm, casting the duo into the stone wall roughly. He arose, snatching up one with both dextrous paws, and swiftly smashed his weight upon the other with a hind leg, crushing through the armor to break the ribcage beneath by sheer weight alone. Strain became him, the wolf fighting against the tension of mortal coil and ingenuity for agonizing moments until one whole was ripped in twain, showering the wall and floors in vital rain. The creature turned, flinging one half of the ruptured corpse into the second nest, scattering the occupants away like insufferable cockroaches with the sight alone.

He gave chase, discarding the fountainous second half of the body, and crashed through the pitiful barricade, overrunning the lingering, fearful few, whose fight or flight had failed them outright. Lachlan snapped another head from its shoulders barbarously and lashed with those blade-like claws the next, rending flesh to unrecognizable ribbons. Deafened by the density of the soundscape, he could not even savor the blood-curdling screams of those he hunted. There was a delight to this, a challenge even, his first real test against heavy weaponry and armor used by the greater enemy forces. Galidraan had been a feeding ground of sort, just enough to satiate the consequential fury of his genesis, but it had never been enough to challenge him.

Here, in the midst of these battle throes, the hunter found himself sadistically delighted.

​

 

[Julian Qar]

✚ K N I G H T _ O F _ C U P S ✚
[ I honor you, with everything ]
RAVELIN
870 ABY

​

"Then why do it at all?"

“After that day...after all, I’d said ta them...part’a me got scared…downright paranoid over the rumors...” Tasting them now, those words, that fear that had been the driving force behind such a regrettable decision still had not settled right. “I heard the rumbles around the lab when they took ya ta get patched up after everything - after my tapes had been reviewed...found out when I was in Wistril that it was a group’a loyalist trying to stir things up…” He looked to her from where he stood, drawing his hands behind his back to thumb at the groove in his metal onyx digit where his wedding ring had lived.

“I left you cuz...I didn’t want anything to happen to ya…I couldn’t forgive myself knowin' I was the cause of you gettin' hurt..."

“Walking out the door that night was the most idiotic decision of my entire life …and I’m so sorry for hurting you...I’m so fucken sorry…” She knew he wasn’t bold, that he was often too timid to use his voice and act, that he was the one who would wave a hand after a fight and walk out to the other room. He was the one on the field they looked after - protect the doctor at all cost. They’d scoop him up from danger without fit or tantrum. But retreat was not the answer...he would not make the same mistake again. Julian pulled away from where he stood, walking up to that line in the sand they often drew in front of one another when things got heavy - and he walked over it to her.

The doctor settled down in front of her on his knees, taking her hands as the junction between their fingers sent a current of data to their minds. The familiar energy written in lines of code that had allowed them a sliver of humanity within their iron cages.

“Noel Strasza...I love you.”

He took pause, allowing those words to hang in the air before speaking again.

“From the moment you tackled me and gave me a blackeye for makin’ fun’a your hair cut..I have loved you my entire life….And if there is somethin’ I know, the greatest regret of my life was walkin’ out that door and letting you go.”

The Julian from before would have gotten up and walked out in a fit of tears, but that man died the night he stepped foot in Wistril. Instead, the doctor reached up and touched her face, preparing for her to pull away as he tried like hell to fight the pressure in his eyes. He looked into those eyes, the ones he’d seen change from steely grey to fiery crimson, prepping for another black eye for stepping out of line, but through the tightness of his vocals he spoke, a single tear rolled from the organic golden optic on his face.

“I'm so sorry Starz...please forgive me."



█ █ █
|| Noel Strasza ||

 

[Eliz Krayt]

Fighting with a unit was far removed from what Eliz was used to doing. He just watched. Shai Maji , Kranak Vizsla . This was something they were used to. The banter over the coms, the orders in between. Trusting their Vod to protect their backs. 'For the Emperor.' Immediately his lips thinned. He wasn't here fighting for some Emperor. Though, was that what made them work together so well?

The doors opened. The green light was given. And all at once such thoughts, worries, musings. All of it faded as Eliz stepped forward and just dropped. Behind his helmet his eyes closed. There was something blissful about falling through the air. For most, it should be horrifying. The end of life was often met by the end of a drop. Mandalorian's never had such fears. Just for that weightless moment Eliz stopped listening to the others around him. Whatever tension and worry he had was gone.

He was among Vod this time.

His jetpack kicked on just before he hit the ground, sending him from a free fall to a sudden jolt forward. Then he was gone. Amidst the chaos, the blaster fire and explosions, the Chissalorian turned on his fractal pattern. His image flickered here and there as he jetted across the enemy line. This was what he trained to do, what his body let him do. He hit one of the trenches in a flurry of Charric blasts and beskad steel. With all the attention on the line of Mandalorian's rushing them the Sith troopers weren't ready. Armor cracked under his blows. His image constantly flickered, as if he was lagging.

The blaster fire turned to him couldn't get a clear shot, though it did start to ruin the coating that kept him invisible. Don't stop for nothing. The memory rushed through his mind as he left the trench, moving to the next.

 

[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
URSA'S REDOUBT | KROWNEST
ABSOLUTE PAIN: Kovacs
ALLIES: Volgin Alto | Dante Corvus | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Jalter Volff | IMLESHA | @whoever else
ENEMIES: Blah
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives

WICKED ONES

Designation crackled to life, causing Del to sit up straight.
<Finally.> she mumbled before comms came through.

She listened as, what seemed to be a Mando code, hailed Kovacs for a CAS, as she checked tact-map on the TAI. An easy enough run with the cover of the mountain range, provided the boys did their bit.

Del waited for Jon to flip Kranak Vizsla over to CAS 20 designation before taking over.
<Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Go for remarks.> she said as she eye-mapped their trajectory to the designated IP.

Waiting for the Mando to relay his remarks, she would then confirm read back with him before giving him their ETA.
<Good copy, Kandosii Actual. Package en route. TOT 60sec. Will confirm clearance on 20sec. Dagger-6 out.> she then relayed before switching back to flight comms.
<Dagger-5, Dagger-6.> she hailed Kovacs. <You boys take care out there. Don't want them bunker AAs hitting ya. Moving to CAS 20 station. Hughes and I veering on our target run. Happy flying. Dagger-6 out.> she said as she angled the Slasher on their trajectory.

The two Fighters disappeared into the mountain range, the ions echoing against the stone walls

The two Fighters crested the hills with a howl.

<Dagger-8, Dagger-6.> Del hailed Hughes.
<Go ahead, Six.> she answered.
<You take East of Red. I'll peck at the West. Confirm copy.>
<Copy, Six.>
Del checked their time frame.
<Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6.> she hailed Kranak Vizsla once more. <Package inbound. TOT 20sec. Please confirm clearance, Kandosii Actual.> she asked him as they slightly slowed their advance to give the ground pounders a chance to respond before getting a face full of turbolaser.

A quick glance ahead showed her that most of the AAs of the bunkers were turned and booming in the opposite direction.

A pang of worry gripped her about the boys' decoy run.

 

[Xeykard]

Chelenne Akaris Cromwell Ghalric Rau Faison Kelborn Siv Dragr Obran ​

"Kark!" A cry of pain came from inside one of the interrogation rooms. Moments later, Inquisitor Yhar stumbled out, clutching his face as blood poured from where his nose used to be. "I'll BREAK that f-" Yhar made a fuss, cursing profusely, calling their prisoner by every name his small mind could think of.

Why the other Inquisitor insisted on torturing their prisoner -- one who wasn't even New Imperial -- was a mystery to Xeykard. He suspected that Yhar merely enjoyed having power over another person. That probably made his nose hurt more. This, this pathetic creature, thin-skinned and blustering, was the only other Sith that remained of the Empire, aside from Xeykard himself. The rest had fled, or been killed, neither of which inclined him to consider them true Sith.

Yet, he was hardly much different. He'd been fleeing for years. He'd been losing for years.

His self-reflection was yet incomplete, but he couldn't stand much more of it. Instead his stay at Camp Gideon had been spent waiting and watching. As the Imperials closed in, he felt oddly as though his world had expanded. He saw how far the war had reigned, even as it came to Krownest to die; the mix of ragged Sith-Imperial units forced together, holding a few defensive points as the Imperials closed in on the last world they still held here.

He saw more of himself in the soldiers than a man like Yhar. They were tired. The few times he eavesdropped on them, he caught their grumbled wonderings on if they should've dodged conscription, surrendered for amnesty, or defected outright. Now it just seemed too late. The men under his own command hadn't said anything to him. Granted, he wasn't the most approachable.

The guards at the monitoring tower were being switched out, but Xeykard stopped one of them with a gruff word, "Lieutenant."

"Sir?"

"Come. Speak."

The man hesitated a moment, before approaching. "Er- what should I speak about?"

"Take off your helmet."

He did. The face underneath was young, dark-skinned, with a beard that didn't quite fit the almost baby-like face. Xeykard stared. The lieutenant shrank.

"So-"

"Do you think Ursa's Redoubt will hold?"

His eyes darted away. "The soldiers of the Empire are the best in the galaxy, sir. Here, I'm sure we won't be defeated."

"You're sure?"

He tried a half nod.

"Speak freely."

He glanced back to Xeykard, tentative. "Well- we are outnumbered. And they have... superiority in orbit... so it'll be difficult for us to win in any meaningful way. And we don't-" he stopped, as though afraid even such an acknowledgement might anger the Barabel.

"We don't what?"

"Well- we don't have many options for reinforcements."

"If you were in command, what course of action would you take?"

"If- if I were in command?"

"Yes."

"I would never presume-"

"No. Presume."

The surprise wore off, though slowly. Through some amount of confidence he made an attempt at truth. "I would retreat -- find any way out of New Imperial space. Maybe even- reconnect with whatever remnants are out there, even if it's... to leave someplace else. I just don't think- they won't show us mercy. I mean, we're-" he gestured around the camp, hoping Xeykard would understand.

He took a long pause, then gave a slight nod. "Yes, I understand."

"Yeah."

"Very well. Begin gathering the men, we'll return to the Red Rain. We should have enough fuel for another jump."

"We're- we're retreating?"

"Yes. Keep things quiet. Only ours, and take a few of the prisoners as well -- the most valuable first. Speak not a word to Yhar."

The soldier seemed to realize that this had been intended from the start, but nodded nonetheless. While the lieutenant ran off, Xeykard turned to the camp's entrance, exiting out into the snow. The cold did not agree with him, but the fat under his scales protected him for now.

Yhar's senses were doubtless dulled by the pain, but Xeykard's were sharp as ever. Something was coming, and he could safely presume what it was. A figure of red and black waded out into the snow. Hopefully they would come to him first.

 

[Kovacs]

IRON RESOLVE
SKY GUARDIAN: EMERGENCY vol. I
Issue #1 w/ Delilah Jones
soon: Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Volgin Alto | Lesha Priest | Alora Vizsla | Eliz Krayt | Jalter Volff | WHO ELSE??

Dagger-5
Bravo Flight, 181st Fighter Wing​

v o i c e s​

<We're gonna have to fix that after.>

His eyebrows wiggled playfully but no witty quip came back as the chatter on the grounders' cooms took his attention. They wouldn't be getting off the hook so easily to his chagrin. Trouble was stirring down on the frontlines and it was up to the Starfighter Corps to save the day. As always. No way Jon was looking forward to it. The Redoubt's stacked with SAMs from end to the other. All automated. The Sith's presence on Krownest wasn't light, not at all, especially for a remnant. But that was expected - it was the last pocket of resistance before the so-called Iron Ring was to be closed down by the True Empire.

The last bastion of the mentally deranged.

It would fall today.

<You better have rubbed your good luck charm for this, Kovacs.>

Even gung-ho Del wasn't feelin' it. The pilot's hand reached inside his obsidian flight suit and squeezed that piece of junk talisman his father had given him years ago. One for him and one for his sister - Cordé Sabo ; Dad's lucky charm. The high-roller's famed juju of fortune. Some might call it a cheap piece of forgery. A fake. And they'd be right. Hell, if this thing did half of the things their Dad said it did - they'd be swimmin' in a fifty by twenty pool in their backyard while sippin' on some 750 green champagne all day, every day.

Can't have it all, pops.

<"Six, Eight... godspeed."> he tapped a two-finger salute on his helmet, throwing a glance at the two diverging TIE Slashers through the viewport as the flight crossed the Initial Point.

At the IP the clocks were hacked and the flight split off into pairs. The shooters - Six and Eight swerved on the right side of the ridge, while the decoys - Five and Seven veered left into the valley that would lead them straight towards the Redoubt.

<"Keep the engine dry, Seven - hands off the afterburner. Throttle up to a hundred and keep the flare and chaff itch under cont--">

<"I know, Kovacs! It's not the first time I'm flying!"> Vane's bark through the pair's channels.

...

<"...alright... but if it gets too hot we're pullin' asap...">

Eight said zilch.

That odd sensation, you know, of something feelin' off just intensified. It's like an overdose of adrenaline, suffocating your lungs and kicking up your instincts to inhumane levels. But his heart rate was only slight elevated, the HUD indicators showed so, and yet he felt like he was just on the precipice of his last breath. He could put no finger on it. Made no sense. At all.

The two birds swerved slightly to the right and the distant battle emerged in the distance. Dots of red flashing against each other turned to lines, white fleas turned into the well-recognized plastoid forms of stormtroopers among the grey-clad dots of Mandalorians as the front lines came closer and closer with each knot of speed ripping through the cold skies of Krownest.

What would first be a gentle, faint hum in the far distance only heard by those that were not in the very midst of the meat grinder of the battle would turn into a screech gradually growing louder as the twin ion engines wailed in the horizon guided by divine wind.

And then the hell on earth surged from the blasted, torn-up ground and lashed out into the clear skies. Right at them. The very first shot struck right at his cockpit, the shield zapping a blinding light that left his eyes squinting and blinking. Jon's hands pull the stick on a hard right, juking the fighter right next to the ridgeline. The turbolasers followed a second later ripping through the ridge. Rocks and stones exploded sending frags into his wings. Too close.

Too hot.

"These fucks are throwin' everything they've got up in that loony bin."

He's a reckless dumb jockey, he's gonna keep goin' but only that kid on his portside hadn't insisted on taking the decoy run. If it was Del, they'd probably stick through the shitter but ain't no mark high enough in the Academy that can hide your green.

<"Eight! We're pullin'!.... pull, pull, pull, pull--">

<"Not pulling till I hear Shooter say Up, Six!">

<"You're god damn pullin', Six, or I'll slam this piece of junk straight up your starboard!">

<"Negative, Lead!">

<"That's a fucking order, damn it, PULL!--">

<"Poppin' flar--">

swOOOsh!!

BOOM!!​

<"NOOOOOOOO!!--"> his cry pierced through the fiery explosion painting the left side of his viewport. Ethereal instincts kicked in just as another headed his way, the sixth-sense deploying counter-measures with a timing unmatched by a normal sentient. Incoming warheads exploded nearby, rattling the TIE and Jon's bones till they sang. The Slasher yanked upwards and to the left, swerving away from the Redoubt headed for the nearest egress point.

Eyes wide open, chest heaving in shock, and sweat greased his palms. Green was gone. A moment ago he's there alive and well and a blink later he's gone in a blaze trying to prove himself. Teeth clench hard till they crack. But it ain't green's fault, ain't it? Could've said no, Jon. Pulled a rank. Pulled a Hardass and brought the ISB in the convo, shut him right up. Know what's better for him.

But you didn't, Jon.

His hand plunged into his flight suit, yanking the lucky charm off into his gloved palm.

"CHIT!" he hurls it to the side, steam burning his nostrils. The last remaining pockets of his sense keep his hands from steering back and plunging the ship straight into the fortress.

 

[Alora Vizsla]

Location: Enclave Dropship
Objective: Make Some Noise, Crack Some Helmets

Alora clapped Vulcan Krayt on the shoulder when the announcement of their impending jump came in. She would have smiled, but the helmet wouldn't help convey it. She knew Eliz -- helped him with his arm -- but not much about Vulcan, the other 'young soldier' among them Shai'd called out. Well, didn't much matter how new they were to the conflict, they'd be veterans by the time the day was through.

The door slid open and the bitter winds poured into the confines of their ship. What could be mistaken for simple turbulence from the blizzard outside were explosions by canons that sought to bring them down long before the drop. A bumpy ride to be sure, and one that could have the inexperienced vomiting in their own helmet. Not their first rodeo, though. No one was going to curl up in a corner at the last second here. Mandalorians trained for much worse especially those of the Kandosii squad.

As Alora moved toward the door at an even cadence, she thought about how it might seem to an outsider. It might have even been funny. With how friendly and relaxed Alora came across socializing, some would probably question her being in a unit like this. Wouldn't be the first time someone doubted her abilities. The Imperials probably questioned their presence as a whole, but some of them would have flipped their helmets if they knew about Alora. Which was totally okay, because it didn't matter what anyone thought. It was funny to find someone so zany in a warzone -- unless someone was at the other end of her disruptors, then they went silent.

After she jumped free of the ship, Alora's HUD lit up with the aerial descent path and trajectory of incoming projectiles. Yeah, those below probably hoped the flak shells would shred some paratroopers on their way down. Problem was they were just any paratroopers.

It looked easy once you were out of the ship -- 'all you have to do is fall, how hard can it be?' All it took was one wrong move or a moment's hesitation to get creamed in a free fall though. Alora tucked her arms in and spun rapidly off to one side to avoid a nearby explosion. A carefully application of fanning out and tucking in helped close the distance in a controlled fashion along with the rest of the unit toward the entrenched positions below.

With light pressure, Alora freed her disruptors from their holsters and drew them as the ground rapidly filled her view. The jetpack of her suit flared to life at the same time both disruptors tore through the armor of two of the opposition. A second later Alora's boot planted itself in the faceplate of a third. As the third toppled over backward, the gunmetal and violet Mandalorian twisted to paint two more troops that'd turned toward the sudden killer in their midst.

The pack snapped off and Alora dropped two feet to the ground. Her visor slowly panned around to map the area and take note of where the rest had dropped.

One of the pistols were holsters as she strode along the trench. Her gloved hand grasped and drew a grenade from a nearby cache. Triggered, Alora casually tossed it down a hole dug into a tunnel where sounds of movement could be heard. A burst from her pack propelled her out of the trench as the explosion turned the hole into a crater with dirt and debris flung high into the air after the perpetrator.

Another burst sent her horizontally along the battlefield for just a second as blaster rifle started to turn her way. They even clapped a repeater gunner and pointed in Alora's direction with the intent to riddle her with bolts. Good plan. She had a better idea though.

As the rifle wound up and started to fire, Alora dipped toward the ground and then blasted forward. She slid over the distance as the barrel of the gun tried to keep up with the sudden plunge. Her right hand snatched a baton from over her right shoulder as her foot snapped across the gunner's face; their Mandalorian guest of honor had slid up along side the rifle to hop right into the pit with them. What followed was a flurry of blows as Alora traded the other disruptor for her second baton. They tried bringing guns to bear in the close quarters without time to change their loadout, which only made keeping their weapon fire away easier as she pummeled them with the metal batons.

As Kranak Vizsla and Shai Maji brought a fiery rain down on the enemy, Alora surveyed the area for the rest of the unit and Eliz Krayt and Vulcan Krayt in particular. They were ready for this, but that didn't mean she couldn't make sure they weren't pinned down or in trouble.

Location: Ursa's Redoubt Trenches

POYO! Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Kranak Vizsla | Lesha Priest
POYO Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Volgin Alto | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair​

 

[Rurik Fel]

E M P E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Lucien Dooku | Aemilio Valaar | Caarlyle Rausgeber
The Quartermaster

EMPEROR GRINDSET
RAVELIN '70​

Rurik sat with his hands bound in contemplation, idly mulling over the Quartermaster's proposal in placid demeanor. Such was the nature of Fel. He revealed nothing beyond the metallic visage he donned over his tortured features. He gave no indication, no tells of how he truly felt. He certainly had the capacity for emotion, but made a point to conceal his thoughts to himself. As much as his encounter on Nirauan might've showed the power of the many, the strength of a unified, unbroken front. He was still the lone man in the arena as far as he was concerned. When it came to the reins of power, there were a very few select number of his subordinates and peers he could levy any level of trust in.

"And so you wish to maintain a cooperative...and cordial relationship between the Mandalorians and the Empire. So it has been and so it shall continue. So long as the Enclave remains stalwart against the darkness, against the chaos, it will find a working partner in the Empire. The Sons of Mandalore in tandem with Imperial Special Forces Command have certainly improved the ability and readiness of both units. And as you say, the 16th have more than already proven their mettle in the field." Rurik remarks, mulling over the consideration of a close working relationship between the Mandalorians and the Empire. Ultimately, these were desperate times, as much as the 'Decree of Iron Will' might have suggested an Empire unbreakable.

"Trade will remain uninterrupted, not as if our Galactic positions benefit from it as much. The Aurodium Sword will serve as the contractor to any of your own who seek to work in tandem with Imperial Forces beyond being citizens of the Mandalorian Protectorate or enlisted in the Imperial Armed Forces." The Mandalorian Protectorate being the de jure Imperial classification to the occupied Mandalore Sector under the governance of the loose Oligarchic regime of the Sons of Mandalore. With there being ultimately little left of Manda'yaim proper, Concordia served as its seat of power.

"Do you bear any other points of discussion or inquiry, Quartermaster?" He inquired once more, being sure to make the most of this diplomatic first contact.

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

D I S T R A C T I O N

Location: Krownest, Ursa's Redoubt, Inside Trench
Local Time: 02:03
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: Crush Enemy Opposition
Secondary Objective: N/A
Equipment: Loadout 1 + Goran’s Stand
Vode: Shai Maji | Vulcan Krayt | Alora Vizsla | Lesha Priest
Friendlies: Kovacs | Delilah Jones | Volgin Alto | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair
Hostiles: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt
Engaging: Open For Opposition!

Combined Arms​

Instead of Dagger-5, a different callsign, Dagger-6 responded to his transmission. A feminine voice chimed into his ears as the pilot spoke. The giant listened to the transmission in silence, amidst the chaos of the battlefield raging all around him. High velocity blaster bolts whizzed all around him and the platoon’s position, with explosive ordnance starting to land near their position. They were ranging shots! Remnant artillery started to zero in on their position! <"Heads up, enemy artillery incoming!"> The Alor'ad warned Shai and the rest of the vode over the platoon coms as he instinctively ducked his head under the trench’s edge when a shell landed fifteen meters in front of him. The shell sent a large column of snow, dirt and dust into the air upon detonation. Dirt sprinkled all over the Supercommando’s jet-black beskar’gam. The vode around him also got their fair share of earth sprayed on them. Their white painted armor was caked with grime and dirt.

<”Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Go for remarks.”>

The giant laid out the necessary details without a moment's hesitation after the pilot gave the go-ahead for remarks as he kept his head down from other ranging shots falling short on their position. <”Requesting a strafing run with your times two Heavy Turbolaser cannons. Your targets are in the open, with twenty to thirty meter spacing between each bunker. Watch out for Anti-Air, wave off from your strafe if it’s getting too hot, over.”> The pilot’s response followed soon after her accurate readback of Kranak’s Nine-Line request.

<”Good copy, Kandosii Actual. Package en route. TOT 60sec. Will confirm clearance on 20sec. Dagger-6 out.”>

The giant gave a curt nod of his head in silence. She then turned his visor to look towards Shai and shouted over the platoon comms. <”Close air support inbound! Danger close, I repeat, danger close! They’re gonna be here in about a minute!”> The Supercommando shouted as he dropped back into the durasteel confines of their trench. The giant could hear the distinct, sharp howling of ion engines in the distance. They were muffled, and barely audible amidst the loud cacophony of blaster fire and explosions, but his helmet’s high quality audio sensors had picked up all four of the Slashers’ engines, and had amplified the sound for the Alor’ad to hear more clearly.

Paying the sound no mind for the moment, the giant peeked his head out the trench cautiously, in hopes of locating the Remnant’s Forward Observer calling in an artillery barrage on their position. If they could take him out, they could at least buy themselves some time before artillery successfully dials into their grid reference. The giant pulled down his helmet mounted macrobinocular and switched to thermals, trying to locate a silhouette. Anything that resembled an officer, or a trooper looking at their position with a pair of hand held macrobinoculars or a laser designator.

Blaster bolts shot from both sides, muzzle flashes, explosions and anything else that emitted heat, were all tinted with a bright white hue. The Supercommando had his thermals set to ‘WHITE HOT’. As the distinct whine of the Slasher’s ion engines grew louder in the distance, his helmet comlink crackled to life once again as Dagger-6 hailed the Alor’ad over the comlink circuit. The would listen as he continued his scan of the enemy’s fortified positions ahead of them, looking for the Remnant’s Forward Observer.

<”Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Package inbound. TOT 20sec. Please confirm clearance, Kandosii Actual.”>

The giant swiftly turned his visor towards Dagger-6’s approach to get visual contact with Dagger-5 and Dagger-6. And sure enough, the pair of Slashers were highlighted in the same white hue as with anything emitted heat his thermals could detect. The giant pushed up the helmet mounted macrobinoculars with the back of his left hand as he responded to the pilot’s transmission. <”Kandosii Actual to Dagger-6! You are cleared hot, I repeat, you are cleared hot!”> After confirmation, the giant lowered his Macrobinoculars once again, and shifted his gaze towards the trench lines to the northeast. He counted dozens upon dozens of muzzle flashes as he kept looking for the Forward Observer while he waited for the gun run.

His eyes caught movement at his peripheral vision in the distance. Snapping his gaze at the unknown contact, the giant identified him in a few seconds. The contact was shoulder-high inside a trench to the northeast, about four hundred meters away. It was a Remnant affiliated trooper, but he could not distinguish any rank insignias or coloring denoting rank due to the white thermal hue cast over him. But he did have a pair of macrobinoculars in his hands. He was looking at their position with his binocs. The giant smiled deviously, assuming he found their Forward Observer. The giant dropped down from the edge of the trench hastily to find a lower trench to be able to shoot over. Passing by several vode of the Sixteenth as he sprinted down the trench with his blaster rifle in his hands, he would come up with such a position in a few moments. The giant rested his rifle over the edge of the low trench and looked down the scope. With a soft tap, the fire selector switch flicked from ‘FULL AUTO’ to ‘SEMI AUTO’ as he lined up his crosshair at the Forward Observer’s head. Slowly breathing in and out in order to stabilize his breathing pattern and to focus on the shot, he would wait for the right moment to take the shot while Dagger-6’s strafing run took place.

 

[Ghalric Rau]

B L I T Z H U N D
SPECTRE
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOMEWHERE | KROWNEST
ALLIES: Cromwell | Chelenne Akaris | Faison Kelborn | Obran | Siv Dragr
ENEMIES: Xeykard | Sith-Imperial Remnants
GEAR: Armour | 2x Pistols | Sniper Rifle | Battle Rifle |Vibroblade | Vibroknife | Basilisk War Droid | Grenade loadout

TEMPEST
​

Bloody bickering children.

He listened as ideas were flung back and forth while he trekked on. He did stop when he heard Ghost countering Nighthawk.

"Do you know how to use that thing, or do you want to keep talking about it?"

Slowly, the Greyhound turned to look at the Mandalorian, who had turned to walk to his bike.
"Did respect for the fairer gender die down completely between the Mando'ade since Hammerfall, or is that just you having no manners at all, Ghost?" he asked, his tone dangerously cold. "Either way, I'd be careful if I were you. Nighthawk can rival even me with ranged shots, so your beskar'gam won't save you when you are between her rifle sights. Tread carefully." Turning to Chelenne, he inclined his head. "You and I can pick off them sentries on the flank, ma'am." he told her, his tone back to calm and cordial instantly.

"Whatever sentries they've got on the ridgeline will need to be taken out discreetly," he adds, his implications were fixated specifically on Blitz and the Mandos. Not the quietest of crowds. "if the alarm goes off before we've made it inside the tower, we're going to be five people against a fortress."

Blitz snorted and was just about to give his colleague another good natured quip when the ISB Agent smoothly interjected.

<"The implication was silence indeed, we'll need to synchronize our shots after we scout to see precisely how many operators are manning the towers. Silencers are only going to screw with our range further, so we'll need to make sure we can get the maximum efficiency out of our positioning alone. Of course, that's the next part of the plan, actually getting there, and is the little rascal of a variable we don't quite have just yet.">

A brow lifted behind his helmet at her last words, but he didn't have to wonder about them for long as she launched into a fashion-inspired explanation of her cryptic comment.

Conditions weren't ideal, but they weren't impossible either. He wasn't impressed with squeezing through narrow crevices, however. He wasn't exactly the smallest of men. Blitz suppressed a sigh. They all had to compromise one way or another sometimes. So he gave a grunt in confirmation.

He had just looked back to what lay ahead of them when a transmission flashed on his HUD from the Basilisk. A frown momentarily creased the Spectre's brow.
"Unidentified individual observed heading in this general direction. To be considered hostile. Who's calling dibs?" he relayed to the rest as he turned to face the line again.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

R E N E G A D E
New Imperial Order
Combined Fire Team of the former 193rd Infantry Regiment "Vindicated"
Blood On My Name

Dante Corvus Michael Barran Lachlan Sinclair

<”Multiple signatures have gone dark-”> Sybila could practically feel the pinch at Ban’s brow as he reported the changes on the radar. His rifle swiveled left to right on the peripheral of her vision and dogged her left flank. She had half the mind to slap it down as her head tilted each time to track it, jaw set tight as she bit in her to tongue.

What water had seeped through the cracks of the damaged service tunnel reflected in the high intensity of the night vision. She culled the pang in her chest, one heavy dark clad hand landing on the man’s shoulder to reassure him. His own dedication to service and a classical training was poorly spent on the road of terror they had treaded to the edges of the galaxy and back.
The service tunnel was looming inward, a pressure born of nerves digging it’s nails into each of them.

One knee jarred, superficial pain running up the limb as she halted-something reverierating off the metal that drew her in closure in one step cutting off Ban. Her hand sprawled out to touch the barrier as the men slowed, the slightest crunch of rock underfoot was lost to the steady drip of water. The winding corridor was to spit them out onto the main tunnel. Her lips pressed together in a thin line behind the veil of her helmet, it was a growing labyrinth. Energy reflected this far away from the active assault, but metal liked to cling and the Force was still stored here like an impression. Screams were like a small shock of pure electricity, a final gasp left to haunt this place.

Sybila’s visor tilted down as she stepped over the Sith Imperial’s prone form under boot like an afterthought. Something else lurked further unseen in the pit of the redoubt, it’s instinct brushed against her fingers-crashing against her senses-warning her of some dark ecstasy that fed… It winded her in an instant and she pulled the net back close to her mind less she considered dipping her toes back into those dark waters. Rage, a cold shiver clawed its way up her spine. She turned her head as if that might starve the beast, refusing to entertain it. There was the pinch of death, quick and fruitless that continued to plague the deep recess of these halls and the..curious..blanketed presence and others.. She nearly passed over it like a river stone but whoever's..burned steadily, burgeoning-unmoving.

Sybila’s eyes narrowed as she tapered back from the unseen reach, cloistering herself- they did not stand tall as a knight’s signature though she couldn’t tell a Jedi apart for that matter. Her helm tilted, as she mulled on the prospect of a real fight since the likes of Helgard. They knew and so did she where one of another stood at least and there would be no game of mouse and cat in the dark.

<”-hook left-I know Ban. We have company ahead, stay on your toes,”> Sybila’s voice was low and grating as she reminded Ban. Sybila knew well his attention to detail was born from a place of practicality, though she swallowed her speel-words seemed paltry. Her steps lumbered as she shed all facade blazing forward, Ban and Hal fell out of step as they rounded on the main corridor. Exposed pipe and machinery still littered the edges of the hall and past it the woman’s sights landed on the two figures at the end of the service tunnel.
There was no shying from the blade, least of all a trooper inkled with familiarity..Corvial..she frowned the name seemed there on the tip of her tongue but her intuition couldn’t pick it out from the sea of muddle memories. The Myrmidons Commander, but what battle-what briefing had they met.

He wouldn’t be as understanding in the worst scenario and she was disappointed not to see Lucien standing amongst the rabble.

Letting the steady approach of boots on gravel fill the space between them. Years had chipped away at the Imperial standard across her breast, walking cadavers that's what the men had taken to calling their equipment-a far cry from the General she had once touted. And then there was the little anomaly, cocking her helmet regarding the stranger. Another sod with a subscription to the Force. Testy as she was, if she pushed she wondered how far he’d push back. Dooku had a habit of collecting the unique afterall, the corner of her mouth quirked beneath her helm.

Corpses at secure points lay smoking still and her visor passed over them quizzically, wrenched hands and blasters-but the angle was wrong and it looked like self imposed suicide. From gauntlet to shoulder she tensed, knowing the wolves were there waiting-a high whine of white noise burned in her mind warning her. This wasn’t the swath cut by the likes of Dooku’s men. Alas her hands raised slowly, fingers brushing the hilt of blades strapped across her chest as she approached the men, the weight was reassuring as she walked freely into the jaws of the brutes.

The boot heel really came as a surprise, it wasn't the time timing but for the mere fact they had chose to attack. It was a bruise upon the likes of her ego, Sybila jerked back as the figure descended from above landing messily where she had once stood. Metal clashed against blast plate and a heavy thump kissed the crown of her helmet, a passing glance that had her shaking her head like a dog. The loud crack rang over the audio receptor, driving a painful dagger through her ear as she rose back to her full height with a muted groan. She dragged her feet back, distancing herself as the hum of vibroblade whined. Her blood roared in her ears, eyes snapping toward the weapon-lip curling back unseen as she sneered.

“Excuse me..?” Sybila vocalized her disbelief, venom dripping. Eyes warily tracked the soldier's emerald form-red streaks highlighted the man’s hand as the HUD reacted. The grunt and crunch of body armor behind her had her whipping her head around, only to witness Ban as he was slammed into the ground from there from another. The Zabrak forced to wrestle for blade and the upper hand. Dooku's men..and here they were on the wrong end of the blade. A misunderstanding but one that shouldn't of been written off, maybe they all knew what happened on Generis-to the Shili men by her hand. This wasn't a means of redemption the shrill voice in the recesses of her consciousness assured her. Guilt took a chunk of her heart. This was already getting out of hand and a growl tore up her throat-diluted by the helmet’s communicator. She reacted to the shift of air as the soldier before her stepped in, her digits flexing as adrenaline coursed up her veins-

“Fething shavit..Gentlemen, maybe less fists and some civility between Legions. Where is Dooku at? Off planet if my guess is correct?" Sybila said, scourging for a measure of patience as her servo hooked under her helmet ripping the bloody thing off, seals hissing. Her breath pooled before her in the cold climate, biting at her exposed skin and the woman leveled her infernal gaze-a faint glow of orange in the dim light. Her helmet was held aloft as her men struggled behind her, letting it continue-knowing trusting that it wouldn’t escalate even if was kinder to reach out and rip them apart she tempered herself, eyes passing from one man to trooper. "-do you remember me atleast, Commander?"

 

[Delilah Jones]

DAGGER-6
LIEUTENANT
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
URSA'S REDOUBT | KROWNEST
ABSOLUTE PAIN: Kovacs
ALLIES: Volgin Alto | Dante Corvus | Shai Maji | Kranak Vizsla | Alora Vizsla | Vulcan Krayt | Eliz Krayt | Michael Barran | Lachlan Sinclair | Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Jalter Volff | IMLESHA | @whoever else
ENEMIES: Blah
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Vibroblade | 2x Vibroknives

WEAPONS

<"Kandosii Actual to Dagger-6! You are cleared hot, I repeat, you are cleared hot!">

Finally.

<Cleared Hot. TOT 10sec.> she replied to the Mando. <Dagger-8, Dagger-6.> she then hailed Hughes.
<Go ahead, Six.> she said.
<Birds away, Eight. We are dropping packages on confirmed areas.>
<Copy that, Six. Godspeed.>
With that, the pair of Slashers split on their runs to do their strafes in a pincer movement to divide up SAM fire from the bunkers and fortress that weren't turned on the decoy.

Shields blitzed white as shots were deflected by shields. Shudders went through the slashers but they were yet unscathed.
<Hot damn! You good, Eight?> Del cried as she angled her TIE toward the BP.
<Still good, Six. We engauge. Confirm?>
<Affirmative, Eight.> She replied. <Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6.> she then hailed Kranak Vizsla . <Daggers engauging. Packages away!>

SAMs shuddered past them, but then the Fighters were in position. The cumulative thunder of both the Turbolasers and the Heavy Laser Cannons of both Slashers echoed against the cliffs surrounding the area as they blitzed in a strafe, consecutively obliterating both heavy infantry and bunkers as the two TIEs howled past one another.

Reaching the end of the strafe, Del hailed the Mando once more.
<Kandosii Actual, Dagger-6. Confirm effect on target.> she asked.
While receiving Kranak's confirmation, she angled her Fighter to regroup with Decoy to head back to IP. She had flipped channels and was just about to hail Jon when her body went cold.

An explosion met her viewport.

"No."

The denial came out in a breath rather than a sound.

<DAGGER-5!> She had found her voice. <Dagger-5, Dagger-6. Please respond.>

One of the two didn't make it.

What the hell?

Everything had reverted to slow motion, Fortress SAMs shuddering past in subsonic speed, shields still holding against the skimming grazes of the missiles.

Please, dear Ashla.

She could barely breathe as she waited for response.

 

[Obran]

FORGED IN LEGEND

Objective: Liberate Camp Gideon
Enclave Tag: Faison Kelborn | Siv Dragr
NIO Tag: Chelenne Akaris | Cromwell​

| Xeykard

The Sith left with a chunk of his face missing and booming laughter echoed in the cell as the Doctor emptied the probe droids drugs into the Bard. Burning pain overlit his senses, driving him, fueling him. They had simply put him in standard restraints, but that wouldn't hold with the adrenaline pumping in his system and the conditioning of his life upon an already exemplary physique. A twist, a tug, and then a sudden pop and Obran was free and lunging at the doctor.

There was a loud, shrill scream as his hands found the man's throat. Said scream cut into a gurgle as the barely clothed and half-dead Mandalorian who had entered a red-hazed frenzy, began to throttle his captor with hands nearly the size of paws, tangled hair, and beard far from their usual oiled perfection. In truth, Obran was covered in blood, dirt, and sweat and looked more animal than man, hardly recognizable.

Underneath him, after several moments, the body went limp. It took a long time to choke a man to death, but not nearly as long to choke them unconscious. Standing, Obran grabbed the blinking probe droid, and as it began beeping in alarm, ripped off the injector arm as it tried to retract it. Basic programming would likely have it reload the injector with a sedative. Instead, as it tried to stun him with a taser-like arm, he jabbed the broad arm down into the throat of his captor and twisted. Rising in time with the arterial spray from the now-dead torture doc, knowing the ruckus would call others soon, but caring only about the last implement of his pain, the droid.

And with little less option to him, Obran began the noisy process of dismantling the droid with his bare hands as the floor of the tiny cubed cell grew slick in blood from his victim and his own wounds reopening. Since the rage had taken him over, little was sounded except grunts and snarls, animalistic noises. Though his movements were slowing. Not even he could keep this up with the drugs on board.

Somewhere in the pile of broken armor, a distress beacon began to blink. Linked to an implanted biometrics monitor, the condition of it's host had it transmitting distress on encyrpted Enclave channels. Though, if anyone could detect it or pinpoint it was anyone's guess. Obran would likely regret taking this contract with the NIO for months to come if he survived.

 

[The Quartermaster]

M A N D A L O R I A N
E N C L A V E​

Objective: Establish Relations with the Emperor
Tag: Rurik Fel | Caarlyle Rausgeber | Lucien Dooku | Aemilio Valaar

She nodded in approval. So it was set, then. "There are no other official matters of business I wish to discuss," she replied.

But that did not mean she was done.

Beyond the veneer of power that Emperor Rurik Fel displayed, he was very much an enigma to the Quartermaster. Fel was an ancient and well-respected name, she knew, but she was very much unfamiliar with Imperial politics and heritage. What more, the aged records of an unbroken lineage could not testify to the mettle of a man living in the flesh.

"Is there a place we can converse more. . . privately, Emperor?" She suggested.

​

 

[Michael Barran]

FOURTH POST
THE_CAIRNSMAN
THE HIGHLAND BROTHERHOOD

OBJECTIVE 1: FALSE FLAG

ALLIES (NIO): Lachlan Sinclair Dante Corvus Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Kovacs
Shai Maji Chelenne Akaris Volgin Alto Nukth Kelga'an Delilah Jones

ALLIES (ENCLAVE): Kranak Vizsla Vulcan Krayt Alora Vizsla
Siv Dragr Lesha Priest

Enemies: helloo? Anybody there?

MICHAEL'S LOADOUT
PALE-BLUE LIGHTSABRE
FRAGARACH DISRUPTOR PISTOL
VIBROSWORD CAVALRY-SABRE

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 6

'Your assistance has been noted, Laird Michael..'

With the airtight hiss of his helmet connecting to the rest of his armour-array, Lord-Commander Corvus would exchange a last nod of mutual-respect with Lord-Colonel with visor down before drawing his Vibroaxe to use in his attempt to link up with the Highlanders inside. Lachlan would be deep inside Sub-Basement 2 by then, eventually finding himself split off from the main Imperial advance of Goidelic and Serennan elements pushing north, something that couldn't be helped with the sheer scale of the redoubt's basement and sub-basement levels, though it wouldn't stop the Myrmidons' Lord-Commander from trying; not with the weapon he hand in his hands, not with the famed high-mobility of the Myrmidon armour-array on his side, not with Corvus' clear intent to rip and tear at a head start on his Force-Wielding acquaintance. 'Time to go greet our guests.', the Myrmidon concluded, letting the cold green-blue glow of the axe illuminate the area around them, and enough that it made Lord Michael choose Cav over Kyber for once.

'Been a while, so it has.', the Woad drawled as the equally-cold, but wintry pale-blue glowing second-sword slid quietly from the polished-redwood inner lining of it's scabbard, enticed into going back to his swordsman roots by a weapon-type he never thought he'd get to see on modern battlefronts, like a thorny rose-bush had grown from nought but solid rock before the Wanderer's very eyes. Watching the axe's light trails dancing behind it as the Lord-Commander ran off to establish his head-start, Barran would follow the light as best as he could before being forced to stop in his tracks, as his nostrils had mildly erupted with blood, relieving a lot of pain in that moment but leaving him momentarily light-headed at the same time. Lord Michael would take a knee for a moment among the Sith-troopers' bodies, but would rise again and keep walking until he'd passed the corpses of his making before blowing the last of the blood out of his nostrils, muttering,'Might be scum, but they never did anything to deserve that sort o' disrespect anyway.', as he approached a group of south-facing Myrmidons, adhering to Lord Dante's mutually-driven curiosity to the presence behind them.

'Heh! I guess he wants to know after all- ooftya! Maybe best if I have a wee seat - o'er here.... Stim was a bit loaded, was it no? Could've given me half that an' I'd have been fine by noo.'

'Noted, Barran. Just get behind the defensive line, will ya?', the nearest of the troopers retorted, showing to be slightly irritated in the way he waved Lord Michael over from the other side of the sub-basement entrance, though calming down as soon as Michael started trying to walk a little faster towards his allies. By the time the Lord-Captain was sitting with eyes searching southwards, everything on the south side of the sub-basements had fallen deathly silent but for the rustling of the Myrmidons' armour and the crunching of the gravel beneath their boots, and with nothing but the whistling winds of the weather battering against the hills and the fort at the surface, it wouldn't be long before they heard and saw who was approaching. However, first to feel the presence once more would be Lord Michael, sensing this unidentified individual's power nearing at bipedal walking-pace, approaching with subordinates of their own, though of more-conventional midichlorian counts than the one who was assumed to be leading them.

'They're close, ready up!'

CANCELLED RESURGENCE: THE WOAD-BORN HUNTSMEN - PART 7

'...have company ahead, stay on your toes...'

'Well, give your official challenge the- wait, but I didn't mean.... Oh great, here comes the mayhem then. Hold position until that fizzles out!', Lord Michael said, trying to keep the nearest Myrmidon from acting rashly and giving up soon after realising the trooper had stopped paying attention.

Well, this should prove entertaining.... Force-sight it is, only way t'get the best view o' the scrap.​

Disappearing into the gloom ahead, the Myrmidon troopers would advance into what sounded like a near-instantaneous scuffle, to which some solid impacts would be head in the process, the lattermost of which yielding a rather irate (though feminine) response from the approaching group's commander. Whilst hearing a staggered receding cadence on the gravel, Lord Michael would hear the powerful presence from before exclaiming,'Excuse me..?', in a scathing tone as she was finding her footing to jump back into the fray again. Melee weapons had been drawn, with both sides of the misunderstanding adopting CQC postures and going at it for a moment or two, before their still-obscured commander managed to create enough space to step forward and parry a number of blows in a steady-handed defence, (against what was otherwise a very difficult combination to deal with) much the same for the guards who approached and owned whatever ground they were steadily gaining at the time.

A woman walked into that punch? But not only that, she stayed on her feet too?​

'Ho-ly chit, man. Not only powerful, but 'ard as nails an'aw.'

'What?', the trooper to his left asked, wondering what the Woad was on about, and how he could see so well in the dark all of a sudden. Michael would wave it off and shake his head as if he was both telling the Myrmidon-trooper to forget it and that he needed to be left alone to focus on the fight for a while longer. One of the confrontations had devolved into grappling and scuffling for control over a knife since, with the unknown factor succeeding in tying his Myrmidon-affiliated opponent's movements, enough that he was just seconds away from enacting the first-steps of a disarming hip-toss when the voice of the unidentified commander rang out in outrage, echoing off the walls of the tunnel and reverberating beyond the entrance behind the south-facing defensive formation. Despite the feminine qualities, there was no doubt that the unidentified commander's voice was one that was accustomed to years of bellowing orders over the din and auditory Hell of warfare at full intensity, and one that certainly carried the right authoritative tone with it.

'Fething shavit..Gentlemen, maybe less fists and some civility between Legions. Where is Dooku at? Off planet if my guess is correct?'

'Knew it, friendlies.', Michael muttered under-breath, letting the scuffle disengage and waiting for the woman to step northward into the dim light with her retinue. The lower-ranked Myrmidons on either side of him sighed with relief and lowered the barrels of their disruptor rifles in response, gladdened that they didn't need to hold off against two fronts after all, and relieved even further that the previously-shrouded power was known to their king; it wasn't very often that had happened for the Myrmidons, and especially not on Ilum or Serenno for that matter, but they would take the small blessing for what it was worth regardless - knowing that not many of the likes awaited them in the sub-basement levels of Ursa's Redoubt. However, it still seemed that despite the woman's verbalised association with their king, the recognition was yet to register for those who should've known her.

'-do you remember me atleast, Commander?'

Seeing the problem as it unfolded, it wouldn't take the Woad very long to surmise the difference in serving generations that the still-unidentified woman was contending with, almost as if those who half-recognised her hadn't believed her to be the legend all their predecessors knew so well. In this moment, Michael decided it would be best to help the situation along as best as he could, and as he grew increasingly worried for the wellbeing of his lycanthrope bodyguard, Lord-Captain Barran would be smart in reading the room and interjecting,'Ah, I know some who encounter such confusions along the way, an' from the wisdom that was imparted on me, I'd say these are a new breed of Myrmidon in comparison to the heroes you've known from before.... The axe-wielding Lord-Commander here for instance, this fellow is very new to the summit of Serenno's high-command, but very much deserving of the promotion also.', sheathing his sword and walking out from the defensive line to meet the new allied arrivals in person.

'Commander of the Myrmidons as you once knew them, Dooku's new second-in-command - Lord Dante Corvus. Saved my old man's hide more than a few times in the past, operating at the efficiency one might expect of a great in the making.... So if you have any questions or queries for King Lucien nowadays, I'll wager Lord Dante's the one to spear it to.'

The punchy newcomers would be unsure of how to interact with Lord Michael in the beginning, as he seemed to still be swaying slightly as he talked, with eyes occasionally rolling upward before the Laird paused to attempt to shake off the double-vision lethargy that was still affecting his ability to focus. Little did he know that he was standing in the presence of soldiers from the 307th, renowned for their sharp, impactful nature in battle, so seeing such an individual standing as a momentary contrast to the aspects that defined them had them all wondering what sort the Wanderer would be once he'd woken up a little. there was dried blood-residues on the skin and moustache-hair on his philtrum, a straight-angled scar on the upper-end of his right temple that disappeared into his hairline, and occasional sneers whenever he'd struggle for standing consciousness; giving off quite the erratic aura, though no doubt very aware of it, it seemed that the Woad would need to prove his worth over the course of the battle's final phases.

'Not many foreigners in this Galaxy who can rally so many of my kinsmen to the field so easily, but this is one o' them. As for me though, I'm just property of the Galidraani Free State for now - Lord Michael Barran, at your service.'

But then, just as names and handshakes were about to be exchanged between himself and the new arrivals, a deep, guttural roar resonated from within the basement levels they were all about to advance into, to which the unnamed commander and her troops raised questioning eyebrows towards their heavily-accented new acquaintance. Seeing for himself that they were owed an explanation, especially after seeing that he was the only one who hadn't reacted to the sound in any way but shrugging as soon as eyes turned to see what his reaction was, Lord Michael let the bellowing roar run it's course before explaining,'That, believe it or not, is our ally in this mess! My ever-so-effective bodyguard, in the full fervour of lycanthropic transformation.... An' he needs our help t'kill every last Sith-Loyalist within the walls of Ursa's Redoubt, so we need to wreak as much havoc as possible until we find him!', trying his best not to look like an idiot in the process.

'If we find him in time, not only will we see something glorious to behold, but we'll be able to use his momentum to our advantage. We can save your introductions for when we get out of this place, agreed?'

 

[Rurik Fel]

E M P E R O R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SOVEREIGN IMPERATOR
Iron Skin | Lightsaber
Lucien Dooku | Aemilio Valaar | Caarlyle Rausgeber
The Quartermaster

EMPEROR GRINDSET
RAVELIN '70​

Rurik nodded once in reply to the Quartermaster before motioning a hand to his retinue present in the counsel to him.

"That will be all, Admiral, Lucien. You are dismissed." He said in his usual placid, frigid tone before eventually shifting his steely eyes in the direction of the Mandalorian opposite of him. In truth, he had little idea of what to expect and in certain measures, didn't reveal any shades of questioning or anticipation in his ironclad expression. But now, they were the only two living souls within this meeting chamber. She had her wish fulfilled.

He made no movement from his seat, only awaiting her to eventually continue that matters that dictated this privacy. He said nothing further, for he had nothing to say, nothing to expect.