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Invasion Kill Them All and let God Sort them Out: AC Invasion of TSE held Ziost, Mirial, Ruuria

Blade of Ession
Character

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The message was ignored.

An offer of mercy rescinded, the compassion of the Ashla rebuked with degenerate hubris as it so often was. No longer would the servants of the faithful be forced to bow to the wanton desires of tyrants and despots. No longer would the sycophants of the great enemy be tolerated. No further steps would need to be taken to appease the goddess. All that remained was to carry out the will of the Ashla, the will of the Light.

For decades, the Ashlan people lived as exiles and refugees in the lands of those that did not want them. Their homes burned and abused at the hands of the Sith, their people slaughtered and enslaved to supply their conqueror's war machine.

No more.

The priests of the Ashla call their faithful for one final great struggle. The chosen people will either build a new home from the bones of the oppressors, or bleed themselves dry upon the enemy's ramparts. There will be no retreat, no remorse, no mercy. There is no way out but through.

The Ashlan fleet gathers to cleanse the world of Ziost. Where the godless have failed, the blessed will find retribution. Should they be thrown back, they will come again and again until there are none left to fight.

This would be a holy war. This would be total war. The Goddess Ashla comes for Ziost, and her children march in her wake.​

Keen arrêt virum Ession!

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The Crusade have decided that the darkness has held too strong of a grip on Ziost, and therefore must be cleansed of all Sith influence. The forces of the AC and their allies gather at New Adasta, going door to door and systematically eliminating anyone with a connection to the Sith. It is a cleansing by fire and light, an inquisition cutting to the heart of the Sith that have defended the planet for so long. Meanwhile, the Sith gather en masse to once again defend their territory, hoping to push the religious zealots of the Crusade back to the planet from whence they came.

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In the wake of the previous battles on Ziost, a large number of POWs have been locked in a large prison outside of New Adasta. In hopes of gaining an edge, the Crusade has launched a covert operation in an effort to free those imprisoned so that they may join the fight for the planet. The high security prison is heavily guarded. If the infiltrators hope to succeed, they will have to bypass sensors, turrets, and guards, as well as any Sith that seek to keep the prisoners locked away.

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In orbit around Ziost is a large asteroid field. The Crusade has received intel that a complex holding many historical artifacts of the Sith is hidden somewhere within the field, and have deployed nearby in search of this depository of reliquaries with the hopes of destroying the entire facility. Intel has stated that the location is both within the largest asteroid, as well as the surrounding area. In order to reach it, The Crusade and their allies must traverse the treacherous asteroid field while defending themselves against the Sith fleets. Furthermore, there is a shield protecting the facility, acting as a last line of defense. Until the shield is brought down, the asteroid will stand.

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Broken Heart and Soul
Writer
Lady Ingrid L’lerim Ragal Terassi Vandiir
Eternal Empress of the Eternal Empire, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Shroud, Leader of the Dawn of Hope
The Red Witch, The Night Queen, Lady Stuztala, Head of the House L’lerim, CEO of the HPI Consortium, Archon of the Primyn Group
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Objective: Protect the civilians and hospitals
Location: Farther from the battle, EE’s camp
Equipment: 2x Striith vibrosword | The Soulsabers | Brynja coat | Hersir Imperial Uniform | G1 OmniLink | The Last Gift || Empyrean gland
Writing with: Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson || Tags: Arctus Silmar Arctus Silmar | Geiseric Geiseric
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[ O Fortuna ]

Another war, this time against a lesser known opponent. On the battlefield, Ingrid had never clashed with Grayson or his nation, or with his former states. Of course, she had already seen him in files and holographic records and had already met the man at Denon. This did not mean that the woman had not studied the man's previous military career because she had done so. The Empress never went to war without being prepared for the opponent. Not even when they performed only defensive tasks.

It was for this reason that the units of the Eternal Empire protected civilian buildings, hospitals, civilian warehouses, museums, and places fit into the humanitarian service. Ingrid was still weak due to the organisms of the RUUSAN project, not regaining her strength yet, although she felt much better than before. That is why she was not prepared to fight, but only to coordinate the soldiers. The order was the usual, they can't attack anyone, they can only shoot if they are attacked. Preferably not try to kill them, but rather to deter the enemy. But protect their own lives, and their lives are important. She knew all of her army here were voluntary, but she didn’t want to send them into death.

Ingrid was in their own command building / tent, in a more neutral area. If someone came from the enemy because they wanted to talk to them, they were not arrested, they were allowed in. The Empress held herself to want peace and to protect the civilian population. Therefore, the defence in the attacked area remained, they did not attack, just defending the civilians. She had already completed the last briefing, so she was now looking at the holographic displays to keep track of the movements of their own troops as well as their enemies.

She didn’t like to be in the back like that, to be left out of the fights, but her health hadn’t fully allowed her to fight yet. Last but not least, if she is lucky, everything will be easier from here. One of the officers entered and saluted in the usual Eternal Imperial way, which the woman also reciprocated.

<"My Lord, the enemy has arrived!">

<"We follow the usual protocol, colonel, only defence. And if necessary, begin the evacuation!"> she said in her cold and military voice.

<"Yes, my Lord!"> the man saluted again and left the room.

The battle has begun.

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Cedric Grayson

Mind Over Matter
Character


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Location: New Adasta Outskirts
Tags: Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir , others soon



That they might succeed where their peers had not remained to be seen. The generals of the Crusade were confident in their chances, and faith was an infallible confidence in itself. With their recent campaigns against the smaller states occupying Ashlan claimed territory going rather well, and the surge of recruits following the implementation of conscription, there was no better time to strike at the veins of the Sith Empire.

Twice now the free nations of the west had attempted to tame Ziost, and twice they had failed. The Ashlans studied these conflicts obsessively. pouring over every detail available to them in preparation for their own attempt at toppling the giant. A success here would mean a great shift of power in the galactic game. The Ashlans influence in the east would be solidified, and the great series of wars that had been waged to see the Sith regime toppled possibly brought to its endgame.

Alternatively, committing this heavily this deep into Sith territory could prove disastrous. Where their enemies had the numbers and equipment to replace grievous losses, the Ashlans did not. It would not be economic strength, numerical superiority, or forbidden magics that won the day, but rather superior tactics, undying faith, and a greater will.

The destruction of the holy land might have been little more than a footnote for the Sith, but for the Ashlans it was everything. There could be no peace until the perpetrators suffered for their sins. Whatever reservations about bringing further war to the Tingel Arm were maintained could not begin to outweigh the fervor that had overtaken the minds of the people.

There were no other options. They would either reclaim the homeland, or they would perish in foreign lands. As the men of the line had become so keen on saying, the only way forward for the Ashlan people was through.

The initial breakthrough onto Ziost had been a matter of luck. A brief break in the formation of the Sith fleet had been capitalized on, dozens of troop transports ferrying their occupants down toward New Adasta. The landing had been rough with casualties quickly mounting into the hundreds as the transports settled atop the icy drifts just outside the walls of the city.

The Sons of Ession and several alien cohorts from Bosph and Koboth filtered out around the outskirts of the city, dispatching whatever token resistance moved to meet them. They would need to make their move on the inner city quickly before the Sith could mount a proper response.

"Prepare to breach the walls." Cedric snapped over the comms from his place near the back of the line. Two repulsortanks moved to follow the order as a surge of new information filled the corner of his HUD. An exposed camp sporting Eternal Empire banners had been spotted within running distance, and well within the range of the Ashlan artillery. Not wishing for a diplomatic incident, the Ashlan Lord found his way toward the center of the armored column, and opened a comm channel over known EE frequencies.

"Eternal Empire personnel, this is Cedric Grayson of the Ashlan Crusade. You are present in an active warzone. Clear out immediately, I cannot assure your safety if you remain in your current position."


 

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G R U N G E
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
EMBEDDED WITH | 1st BATTALION 506th INFANTRY REGIMENT
JUDGEMENT DAY
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Defiant Pattern APCU (Ashla Armed Forces) | SRK-65 Service Rifle | DSP-61x Hybrid Pistol | Cradle | Grenades

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PLANET CARAVAN
ZIOST '65
( Written with Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh )​

Ziost. In the past decade, never had so much blood been shed for so little. After the meeting between COMPNOR and the Ashla Crusade within the comparatively concealed tavern on Ruusan, it was established Vrask would be embedded with their military forces, as quickly as they'd been established. Cedric was a competent commander and war leader, but even still, as many Sons of Ession born of struggle there were many fresh faces, green men and women who had yet to see combat.

It'd been the tomb to many heroes of the New Imperial Order and now Grunge would be spearheading the next pack of hopefuls into the deathly grey of this dead world. He'd managed to avoid deployment there twice over, facing easier game in anti-Imperial insurgents but now- his fate was unavoidable.

But soon enough they were about to embark on the great crusade for which the sons of Ession had all been training day in and day out for several months in preparation was due to begin.

Aboard one of the many capital ships destined for Ziost, Kolson and his sole Imperial team-mate, Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh made their final preparations before their rendezvous with destiny.

Even if regulations permitted that he could've armed himself with the best kit New Imperial credits could buy, he sought to endear himself to the unit he was attached to and equip himself just as they did, the only uniform and distinct difference being the Skull and Iron Sun of the IMPMAG symbol sewn into the fatigues beneath the olive green armor and plate carrier draped over his body. It wasn't anything to Imperial standards but the Ashlan Crusaders had to know he was one with them, not any better. They might not full respect his command or authority if he looked too distinct, too distinct in a way that might garner some unwarranted distrust of him and his XO.

In their quarters within the starship, in the process of recounting all their equipment neccessary for the operation, he spoke up to the Mirialan across from him.

“Third time’s a charm, right? Maybe we’ll be the difference.” He remarked the way of Sephi, his voice devoid of any real enthusiasm. He believed in the mission, the intent and strategy of it all but in the end, his task and purpose was to get the men and women assigned to his command through to their objective and more importantly, out alive.

It was a world charred and left to ruin by the very Sith who had plucked it from the grasp of the people and slaughtered them in the same breath, laying waste to not only its would-be liberators, but its citizens as well. She hadn’t been here for that. But when the word reached her, everything else had fallen away. The thoughts had rattled around in her skull for ages now it felt like. The price the New Imperials had paid at the behest of their convenient allies. Such a notion made her sick, truly, somewhere beneath the military-facade and the war painted face masking her truest thoughts.

These things surfaced once more as she went down her checklist, inspecting the weapons she was to bear for the sake of the mission. A deep, steadying breath pushed from between her lips as the anxiety and weight situated itself comfortably on her shoulders, earning a roll of each in some half-hearted attempt to shrug it off. It was familiar, even if unwelcome, that nagging anxiousness that caused her heart to stutter and her mind to drift. It got the better of her for the moment, forcing her to pick up her datapad and flick through the aerial images she had been provided to strategize her positioning on the assault forward. Each little marker placed across each frame, every line and arrow, part of the plan carefully collaborated between her and the only other in the room with her. Chats with soldiers who had trekked across the hell-scorched surface had offered them some insight, but ultimately, none of them had revisited this monument to woe since it had unceremoniously been created.

“Third time’s a charm, right? Maybe we’ll be the difference.” His voice snagged her scrutiny from the screen she held, and emerald eyes soon darted upward, fixating in his direction. She nodded, offering him whatever reassurance she could in the form of a half-baked smile. Sephi understood his burden, somewhat, given her role within the squad. Her lips pursed together, proceeding the slow nod of her head. “That’s a good train of thought,” she mused, “let’s ride it through to the end, yeah?”

Decisively then, she slid her datapad into the mount on her gauntlet, locking it into place beneath the gerry-rigged guard. This wasn’t her usual suit of armor and it showed, perhaps, in the quick modifications necessity had required, adjustments made to better accommodate the heavy load and specialized equipment she packed when she got to work. But, as foreign as it all felt to her, Kolson had been right in his insistence that cohesion was important to the success of their mission. And it was her insistence that had enabled her to at least pack the heat she was most familiar with. The pressure to perform was high enough, add the additional clumsiness of unfamiliarity on top of it, and things would inevitably get messy for her. It was better to be safest in that regard.

“That’s everything I need, you?” The mirialan spoke up as she tightened the twin braids crowning her head, gathering them about to bind at the nape of her neck.

“It’s always more than you need, isn’t it...but yeah.” Grunge said, in a way, a faint as he reached to unclasp the small metal container he kept commonly in a pouch strewn to his webbing or battle belt. Within, two double stacked rows of cigarettes. He lifted one to his lips, taking in a long draw of the bitter, crushed up herb before letting the smoke drift away from him.

He was never a smoker...and then he enlisted in the Storm Commandos. Living life on the razor’s edge, it was a difficult habit not to justify. Death lingered just out of sight, around every corner. Might as well poke the bear a bit more.

“Heard some pretty stories, from some of the 501st and Galidraanis that were deployed here last time around...you’d think by now the Sith wouldn’t have anything left here...but you know there’ll be something. It’s one of their worlds...it's not that it matters, losing it...its the principle...but we’ll make it out just fine. Assuming ‘command’ isn’t a total stick-up-the-ass and sends us right back out again, where’s the first place you’re headed after this?” He asked.

She snickered, holding her hands up and overturning her palms in feigned surrender. “I like being prepared, alright, is that such a terrible thing? Remind me, who is it that always has extra spoons, smokes, lighters, ammo…” Sephi trailed, casting her head back and sucking down a breath, nose soon scrunching at the hazy smog that reached from him. “You’re going to make me pick it up again if you don’t quit it.” She remarked in tease, tipping her chin back in his direction.

“You’d think they’d just let us have the damn rock after the bombardment but nah, ‘course not.” The mirialan gave his question a moment of thought, just the one, “Straight home, to my bed-” she flexed two fingers from her fist, each one marking a reason she would list: “-a good night’s sleep, and hopefully, some decent company.” Arms found themselves folded across her bust then, and she further punctuated her point with a grin. “What about you? Casino? Bar? Nice tan on the beach somewhere?”

He offered a faint grin to the remark at picking up smoking. As much as he was seemingly, the straight arrow, a reputation which might have ended him up in the Task Unit Commander position he occupied now- he was bound to pick up as a bad influence on someone, eventually.

Not really, ‘think I’ll just copy your answer, if that’s alright by you.” He said before standing himself up once more, nodding once in her direction before ashing out his cigarette.

“We got a war to fight first.” Back to business. Back to fighting0 easy.

The mirialan smirked still, that expression seeming to become more permanent with each passing day. “Sure, sure. I don’t mind.” A stride carried her to the table where her equipment rested, “All the more reason not to get shot.”

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RIGHT IN TWO
NEW ADASTA
JUDGEMENT DAY

New Adasta. Nothing else would've been a better fit. The amount of valiant souls between the Galactic Alliance Defense Force and New Imperial Armed Forces spent here only to be one among the ruins, pitiful. And here Grunge was, leading another nation's troops to the same bloodied grounds.

Even if they weren't his countrymen, they tread these broken broken grounds as the 501st did. As the 107th did. Too much blood had been spilt for Ziost, he knew men and women who served and died here. Names and faces, not just casualty lists as the Galactic glad hands might have known it, but real souls.

For the Ashlan Crusaders, more particularly, the troopers assigned to Grunge's command, this was a war of judgement, vengeance. For Ession, for the rest of the worlds the Sith Empire had put to the torch. They'd pay, all of them. Even if the New Imperials approached the war more clinically, with less zealous vitriol, he understood the sentiment. He wanted blood too. Too many times the Sith Empire was allowed to walk away, their crimes unpunished and unanswered. Too many times did the Galaxy just sit back and watch.

It was time to burn.

A city of broken glass and shattered dreams, New Adasta would have be won door to door and street to street, again. For the love of all that was, Grunge wished they just buried it in fire and laid waste until there was nothing left but the ash. But it seemed the Ashlan Crusade approached it with a more brutal, personal face. They wanted to will superiority over the Sith and thus- Grunge and his unit had to resort to the New Imperial doctrine of city fighting, at least, when the mission called for the city to be taken and not destroyed.

Clear, hold, build. The Ashlan Crusaders and their New Imperial advisors would have to carve their way through the streets, clear out the Sith block by block and build up their fighting positions to make away for further advances into New Adasta.

That was where Nova's part came in from stage right. She was a combat engineer, a sapper. Their task was to clear the way and fortify. The Mirialan would certainly come in use for that today, the Sith by all accounts should have been prepared, given how hot of a zone New Adasta was. This meant fortified Sith fighting positions, improvised explosives, traps, killzones- the works.

And it was up to them to burn it all down.

The 1st Battalion came into the outskirts of New Adasta, a nigh exlusively leg unit save for the sparse armored escort of Cataphract-class Main Battle Tanks, the staple of the New Imperial Order's armored assault force sent on lend lease and converted to Ashla colors. They'd be there to bail out Grunge, Nova and the Ashlan troops with them went it all hit the fan. But for now, under ashen sky, among haunted, jagged ruins they slowly entered the city, a section on each side of the streets with sights painting over each window, each entrance way, every corridor, waiting for the eerie silence to break into violent chaos.

ALLIES | AC | NIO | Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN FOR SMOKE
 
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S E A M S
N O V A
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP;
ASSIGNED TO | 1st BATTALION 506th INFANTRY REGIMENT, ASHLAN CRUSADE
NEW IMPERIAL "DOGS"
ARMOR PRIMARY MAGCANNON GRENADES MELEE
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It was a world charred and left to ruin by the very Sith who had plucked it from the grasp of the people and slaughtered them in the same breath, laying waste to not only its would-be liberators but its citizens as well. She hadn’t been here for that. But when the word reached her, everything else had fallen away. The thoughts had rattled around in her skull for ages now it felt like. The price the New Imperials had paid at the behest of their convenient allies. Such a notion made her sick, truly, somewhere beneath the military facade and the war-painted face masking her truest thoughts.

These things surfaced once more as she went down her checklist, inspecting the weapons she was to bear for the sake of the mission. A deep, steadying breath pushed from between her lips as the anxiety and weight situated itself comfortably on her shoulders, earning a roll of each in some half-hearted attempt to shrug it off. It was familiar, even if unwelcome, that nagging anxiousness that caused her heart to stutter and her mind to drift. It got the better of her for the moment, forcing her to pick up her datapad and flick through the aerial images she had been provided to strategize her positioning on the assault forward. Each little marker placed across each frame, every line and arrow, part of the plan carefully collaborated between her and the only other in the room with her, Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask . Chats with soldiers who had trekked across the hell-scorched surface had offered them some insight, but ultimately, none of them had revisited this monument to woe since it had unceremoniously been created.

“Third time’s a charm, right? Maybe we’ll be the difference.” His voice snagged her scrutiny from the screen she held, and emerald eyes soon darted upward, fixating in his direction. She nodded, offering him whatever reassurance she could in the form of a half-baked smile. Sephi understood his burden, somewhat, given her role within the squad. Her lips pursed together, proceeding the slow nod of her head. “That’s a good train of thought,” she mused, “let’s ride it through to the end, yeah?”

Decisively then, she slid her datapad into the mount on her gauntlet, locking it into place beneath the gerry-rigged guard. This wasn’t her usual suit of armor and it showed, perhaps, in the quick modifications necessity had required, adjustments made to better accommodate the heavy load and specialized equipment she packed when she got to work. But, as foreign as it all felt to her, Kolson had been right in his insistence that cohesion was important to the success of their mission. And it was her insistence that had enabled her to at least pack the heat she was most familiar with. The pressure to perform was high enough, add the additional clumsiness of unfamiliarity on top of it, and things would inevitably get messy for her. It was better to be safest in that regard.

“That’s everything I need, you?” The mirialan spoke up as she tightened the twin braids crowning her head, gathering them about to bind at the nape of her neck.

“It’s always more than you need, isn’t it...but yeah.” Grunge said, in a way, a faint as he reached to unclasp the small metal container he kept commonly in a pouch strewn to his webbing or battle belt. Within, two double stacked rows of cigarettes. He lifted one to his lips, taking in a long draw of the bitter, crushed up herb before letting the smoke drift away from him.

He was never a smoker...and then he enlisted in the Storm Commandos. Living life on the razor’s edge, it was a difficult habit not to justify. Death lingered just out of sight, around every corner. Might as well poke the bear a bit more.

“Heard some pretty stories, from some of the 501st and Galidraanis that were deployed here last time around...you’d think by now the Sith wouldn’t have anything left here...but you know there’ll be something. It’s one of their worlds...it's not that it matters, losing it...its the principle...but we’ll make it out just fine. Assuming ‘command’ isn’t a total stick-up-the-ass and sends us right back out again, where’s the first place you’re headed after this?” He asked.

She snickered, holding her hands up and overturning her palms in feigned surrender. “I like being prepared, alright, is that such a terrible thing? Remind me, who is it that always has extra spoons, smokes, lighters, ammo…” Sephi trailed, casting her head back and sucking down a breath, nose soon scrunching at the hazy smog that reached from him. “You’re going to make me pick it up again if you don’t quit it.” She remarked in tease, tipping her chin back in his direction.

“You’d think they’d just let us have the damn rock after the bombardment but nah, ‘course not.” The mirialan gave his question a moment of thought, just the one, “Straight home, to my bed-” she flexed two fingers from her fist, each one marking a reason she would list: “-a good night’s sleep, and hopefully, some decent company.” Arms found themselves folded across her bust then, and she further punctuated her point with a grin. “What about you? Casino? Bar? Nice tan on the beach somewhere?”

He offered a faint grin to the remark at picking up smoking. As much as he was seemingly, the straight arrow, a reputation which might have ended him up in the Task Unit Commander position he occupied now- he was bound to pick up as a bad influence on someone, eventually.

“Not really, ‘think I’ll just copy your answer, if that’s alright by you.” He said before standing himself up once more, nodding once in her direction before ashing out his cigarette.

“We got a war to fight first.” Back to business. Back to fighting easy.

The mirialan smirked still, that expression seeming to become more permanent with each passing day. “Sure, sure. I don’t mind.” A stride carried her to the table where her equipment rested, “All the more reason not to get shot.”
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L U S T F O R A T H R I L L
NEW ADASTA
JUDGMENT DAY
The plunge onto the war-scarred surface of the world had been just as rough as she had expected upon learning the launch of their operations would see them spearheading the charge straight through New Adasta, plunging themselves into the very heart of hostile territory which had all the time in the world to be prepared for their arrival. The ball of snakes writhing in her gut prompted her to draw the necklace from around her neck, clutching it tightly in an armored fist as the dropship was released and her fear was left in the atmosphere above.

Boots on the ground, her head screwed on straight and she readied her rifle at the low, twisting her visored gaze towards Grunge, awaiting the orders to rally and move. The weight of her kit drove her heels deeper into the decimated ruins stripped of any semblance of life, and the eerie silence over it all. She tread upon the ashes of her brothers in arms, acknowledging every step she took forth unto the hellscape that awaited was paved by their sacrifice. Paid for in the blood of Iron. Fallen comrades had charged this same path, and through the empyreal energies nagging at her consciousness, she felt the rage and confusion of what happened here.

It was nothing but a whetstone for her focus.

They slinked toward the edge of the ruined city, taking careful note of the attempt to re-establish order by the locale, attempts that would have no doubt festered hatred for the likes of her within the scorched walls. Hatred turned to wrath. Wrath turned into creativity, creativity that turned vehicles into high-impact explosives. Creativity that sought to turn she and her newfound comrades into nothing but smoking boots and ash to further add to the waste. At Grunge's signal, she shifted through the formation, keeping a tight eye on her boots and the corners of each pass she ventured by, sweeping the edges of their path with sweat-breaking concentration.

The specialized HUD rigged across her visor swept just as she, collecting data via enviro-sensors for the slightest change in the metallic profiles established within their AO. Heat signatures. Electromagnetic signals. Transmissions. However minor any of them were, she would expose them. The grip on her rifle adjusted with her delicate lean forward, flashing the small, circular mirror attached to the side rail around the corner, revealing the other side. Clear. The ground was undisturbed. Her passage was the silent confirmation of her assessment, and she dared forward, sweeping the lay of the broken street with the barrel of her weapon leveled. <"First point is twenty-two meters northeast,"> her voice crackled across their cooperative comlink, <"Nice and steady.">

The plated mirialan swiped a digit across the datapad embedded into her gauntlet, marking the first of many zones she had to sweep as clear, and promptly switching her vision to infrared. The blare of the carnage would be nauseating, but a migraine was a small price to pay for safety. Steeling her nerves upon the weight of her duty, Nova moved on, eyes up, jaw tight, ready to face whatever this hellish place had in store for them.

ALLIES | NIO | AC | Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN FOR ENGAGEMENT
 
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FAITH

She wasn't here for politics, she wasn't here for some religious crusade; Elle Mors was on Ziost to end an existential threat to the galaxy at large. While Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson and his Ashlan Crusade waged their ruthless war on the Sith Empire, serving as perhaps the single greatest taunt to the old Dark Lord of the Sith in recent memory, a former disciple of that very Empire now strode across the frozen tundra surrounding New Adasta to a confrontation that would be as much up to fate as their last. A traitor to the Sith, Elle was the living example that, just as the greatest Sith in history had been Jedi falling to the temptations of the Dark Side, a Sith redeemed was a far greater threat to that order than one raised and indoctrinated with the dogma of the Jedi Order.

As genuine as the malice of a Sith was her compassion, as unwavering as their ambition was her dedication to the light, and, though the darkness in their hearts seemed impenetrable, the light in her shined twice as bright.

Csilla had ended in tragedy, that much was true, and though a second bout seemed that it might be as fruitless as the first she had chosen to face that darkness again. A pillar of green erupted from the plain silver hilt she carried in her right hand, its glow illuminating her and the snow around her feet, as she reached the point that the force had called her to - the point that she would face Carnifex Carnifex once more. She had been hardly prepared in their last encounter and still she'd kept him at bay, though she had hardly been able to she did much better than he, but with time had come practice, and with practice came confidence - confidence in more than her bond with the force, but in her own abilities both mental and physical. Not quite the proverbial butterfly leaving its cocoon just yet, growth and change was still apparent in everything from the way she walked to the way she now waited for the Sith Lord to arrive with stoic patience.


"Show yourself, or I will." She said aloud.

Light built itself up around her, as if making her demand literal.
 
Lady of Steel
Character

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O B J E C T I V E: PROTECT THE FACILITY
Here she was. Again. Standing guard over a Sith structure, seemingly a mere extension of the Sith. Her icy presence kept the rest of her Sith 'allies' at bay, which was exactly how she preferred it. The command station was quiet, perhaps a bit too quiet, but that wouldn't last for long. The displays before laid out the battle that waged on the planet of Ziost, one that Lilanna herself was quietly hoping the Sith would lose. Of course, she kept such thoughts to herself. If not for the Empress' command, she would have probably joined in on the attacks; but such treachery was the way of her Sith tormentors. She wouldn't humor them by mirroring their actions.​
They had remained seemingly undetected for the time being, though Lilanna felt that was just a coincidence. These crusaders knew they were here, and they'd be sending their teams in soon enough; they couldn't resist the prize that laid within this place. While the Eternal Empire, for reasons still not known to Lilanna, seemed to be something of a leaning support for the Sith, the warden pondered that it would eventually have to let their Sith companions go. The question was, when would that time be? Given she didn't understand the wisdom of the Empress, Lilanna had no way of knowing. Perhaps they would remain locked together, until the Eternal Empire was dragged down alongside the Sith.​
It wasn't a thought she relished.​
"Erm, Warden, isn't there something else you should be doing?" A voice inquired of her, her mind conjuring forth ideas of violence upon whoever dared speak to her, but for the time being she kept herself composed. Turning about, she found herself looking up at her appointed 'superior', a rather zealous commander, Zilch. He had a smug expression that she had thought was welded to his face, and took great pleasure in reminding her of the nature of her cybernetics. Warden was his 'polite' way of addressing her, though he perhaps learned to stop calling her 'Dura-face' after she nearly strangled him early this week.​
She might be 'allied' with the Sith, but she had her limits.​
And this bastard, had nearly hit every single one of hers.​
She said not a word to him, merely glaring at him, her hands balled up tightly into fists, as she shoved past him without a word, and left the lapdogs to the idle observations.​
She had better places to be anyways.​


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Lady of Blood
Writer
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Objective: Disrupt enemy attack, protect locals
Location: New Adasta
Equipment: Bodysuit, Bloodstaff
Writing with: Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze

Ziost, ancient world of the Sith. Another week, another battle serving the Eternal Empire covertly as allies to the Sith Empire. Nyxeris knew little of the opponents who threatened the Sith Empire on this occasion; militant lightsiders, so she had heard of the Ashla Crusaders. She could almost respect that ideology, having had her fill of self righteous pacifist Jedi long ago. Still, they had chosen their opponents poorly this day, and she would need to oppose them harshly.

Nyx was down on the surface of Ziost, having taken it upon herself to protect Sith civilians and workers from the religious fanatics that would surely seek to burn, loot and murder as all zealots did when gathered in great numbers and whipped into a frenzy by their preachers and leaders. She stood on a rooftop, looking out over the cityscape, with one eye on the sky as she awaited the assault forces that would surely be coming soon. Robed and hooded, with a bodysuit underneath to protect her vulnerable physical form, and leaning upon her Bloodstaff, the Lady of Blood awaited her foes.

Any murder-bound lightsiders that found their way to New Adasta would soon find themselves engaged by the Lady of Blood, trained in Sith arts, though not of the Sith, and with more than a few Light Side tricks of her own with which to confound and confuse the oncoming horde she expected any time soon. Nyx listened with a Theran technique she found extremely useful, given her own physical limitations, and awaited the sounds of approaching slaughter with anticipation. The lightside fanatics would find no easy meat for their blades here.
 
Darth Xiphos
Character
Wearing: Black Knight Chitin

Armed with: SynthBreaker

Constant Gardener

With: The Amalgam The Amalgam

Cult of the Brain Demon (200)

Model 2's (4000)

(Equipment: Laser Cannon Model 1.

Contained Energy Axe

Century Tank (70)

Wookiee Quad Turret (Ion Blast Cannons, 100)

LR1K Sonic Cannon (40)

E-Web Missile Turret (25)

Mini LM-432 Crab Droid ( 3000, Grenade Equipped) )



Model 1's (500). (Equipment: Disruptor Model 1

30-06 Caliber Battle Rifle (Scoped)

Electrobaton

Tri-Droid (200)

Class VI Automated Laser Projector

TIE Oppressor (20)

MZ-8 Mobile Pulse Cannon. (20) )


Objective: 1 (Laertia)

3 (The Amalgam)


21 hours prior...

New Adasta. Again.

Xiphos felt cold.

Yet...amused.

She was chortling about it, amused as she had gotten the call. She was openly laughing about it all the way to the Surface of Ziost.

The Ashlan Crusade were a bunch of fools fighting over this chithole. The NIO only exposed their own wounded pride by daring to return.

Her sons were gleeful at returning to their old stomping grounds, especially her Son Martin, who was ready to groove.

Xiphos had immediately begun having booby traps laid out. IED'S buried, Grenade Bouquets hung in houses within burned out districts and squads of Model 1's hiding in the districts most likely to be invaded. The Witches had begun setting Magical traps over certain streets, curses designed to cause Madness or form micro domes of Darkness. Electrical and Force Choke Traps were common. The Model 2 Units, bulkier and larger but just as Skeletal, set up gun emplacements as well as rocket, mortar and artillery positions.

But more than that, this time, Xiphos had secured enough resources to give her son's more than just their lethal weapons and intelligence. They had actual tanks this time. Equipment more than barebones.

Cheap tanks, cheap weapons. But powerful, Deadly, and effective. It just depended on how they were used. Nine and Arianna's pockets ran deep. Especially Arianna's.

Xiphos watched her sons bury the modified mini crab droids, equipped with grenades. Upon detection of the enemy, they were to rush their target and explode.

"Beautiful, isn't it..."

Xiphos tensed up as she watched from an intact rooftop. The Amalgam was watching also, the near impossibly beautiful Sithspawn come to admire the ground work being laid for an absolute Death Trap, coordinating with imperial forces for maximum effectiveness.

"Wait until they get a load of you, daughter..." The Amalgam said. "So...you've basically sacrificed everything on the altar of your self righteousness...why not just officially join the Empire already?"

"I'm not one of you. I don't want what the Empire wants. I don't care about ruling. Or power. All I care about is defeating the Bryn'adul by any means necessary. And the fools about to attack us don't get it. Or don't want to. They would let the whole damn outer rim burn to get Ession back. Let them come. My blade shall taste the Soldiers of Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson , and their bones will turn to ice. Their blood will freeze in my hands." Xiphos asserted boldly.

"I'd love to stay, and try and figure out why the narrator constantly has you quote Arnold's version of Freeze, but these Ashlan bastard fanatic bastards want to destroy priceless artifacts like the vandals they are. But don't fret, Daughter! The Battalion will be here to play with you."

"As if I should be excited."

"Are you?"

Xiphos did not answer.

The Amalgam sighed.

"Oh, just give in to The Dark Side already! Why resist? You've clearly decided you don't want to be a Jedi. You clearly are growing to despise them for their dogged insistence on fighting the Sith, and the more extreme you go, the more you push away people not willing to be as extreme as you are. Just. Stop. Fighting it." The Amalgam exclaimed, exasperated. "Pretty soon, and even Darth Themis is going to start getting wary, if she isn't already. Is spending the rest of your life as a true Sith really such a horrible prospect? All this Galaxy does is chit on you. Do you even actually care about all those Civilians you are trying to save beyond the most abstract definition of 'saving'?"

"Nar Kreeta haunts me. Sarka haunts me. I will not see the whole Galaxy become that, even if it means the Sith get to last another five centuries. Even if it means I become a permanent pariah." Xiphos replied coldly. "Now leave me to the defense of New Adasta. Go to your baubles."

The Amalgam frowned and headed away...

Present...

The Model 1 scouting teams in the outskirts were the first to find battle, violently engaging in hit and run attacks, never staying still as they shot at advance teams, gunning some of them. Xiphos was keeping the heavy artillery close to the city center, deploying Century tanks instead for artillery versions of hit and run attacks. Ashlan soldiers started immediately dying as a 30-unit strong column of Model 2's began to assault forces near Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh , while Model 1 units were dispatched towards the Forces of Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask , two Century Tanks backing them...

Elle Mors Elle Mors
 

Isla Draellix

Fleet Admiral
Character


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Location: Asteroid field and interplanetary space

Complement:
1x Noble Crusader Class battlecruiser (Divine Purpose)
3x Templar class star destroyer (Piety, Hope's Wrath, Legacy of Ruusan)
2x Nebula-2 star destroyer
4x Majestic class heavy cruiser
6x Dominion class escort frigate
4x Seraphim class patrol frigate
8x Principality class corvette
full complement of R-wing heavy space superiority fighter

Ships are dispersed into two roughly even groups, one led by the Divine purpose and Piety and the other led by Hope's Wrath and Legagy of Ruusan. The Divine Purpose force is closer to the planet whilst the second force is fully engaged scouting the asteroids.

"Captain," spoke Fleet Admiral Isla Draellix "what is the status of taskforce beta, have they found anything else yet?

"Admiral, we have reports of some small scale detections. Mostly civilian mining operation. The grav sensors are picking up multiple density anomalies, these are being investigated as we speak. Most are either civilian bases or or abandoned."

Isla had asked for the crystal gravity traps to be set to scan the asteroids and compare their predicted mass to their gravity well. Then her custom algorithm was pinpointing anomalies, hopefully leading to hollowed out asteroids and speeding up their search.

"Good work captain," she replied, "now please open that system wide channel"

Also relevant to:

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"Attention to all Ashlan, Civilian and hostile vessel," addressed Isla into the holo, holding herself tall. "I am fleet admiral Isla Draellix and by the authority of the grand fleet of Ashla, declare the following coordinate string" she timed the holo so a winding path of coordinates leading out of the conflict zone appeared before her on all their viewers. "to be a humanitarian corridor. Any civilian vessels or ships of any faction, with medical registry, will be allowed to pass within this corridor without fear of attack from the liberation force. I invite all civilian and opposition forces to respect this decree to ensure the safe passage of non combatants."

Isla wasn't completely naive, she knew the sith were not averse to civilians casualties, but the Ashlans had to win the hearts of the civilians if they were ever going to liberate this space successfully.
 
Worship or Bleed
Writer
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Objective: Guard the prisoners
Location: Tau-Rho POW Holding Facility
Equipment: Lightsaber
Allies: TSE
Enemies: AC / GA / NIO
Tags:
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Ziost.

Twice in recent times it has been under siege by the supposed 'liberators' and 'saviors' of the Jedi and their allies. Now, for a third time, their light shone on the world.

And for the third time, the light brought nothing but death to the people of Ziost.

"By the Force, they're not playing around this time." Alisteri could see the beginning of the battle for New Adasta from his spot in the prison's main control room. Ziost had barely recovered in the time since the last two invasions that had ravaged the planet, and the people were much the same way. His fingers slowly curled and clenched into a fist at the sight of the incoming transports to the city.

He should've been there, helping to get the people out and to safety. That or just fighting off the invasion to buy the citizens more time to evacuate. But no. instead he was having to guard prisoners. Why even have them? These disgraceful heathens should just be killed, stops them from escaping and frees up resources for saving the people.

The officer that cleared his throat behind the masked Acolyte interrupted both the Sith's thoughts and the sound of his teeth grating together.

"Acolyte Haxim, if you don't mind checking over cells 34-48?" Ah, the ones that happen to have windows that don't face the city. Fair enough. He nodded and let out a small sigh. "Of course sir, and please do keep me updated on the Jedi's assault will you? Just in case-" "Just in case you are needed, yes sir you have said that three times now." The officer gave Alisteri a deadpanned response and he merely offered a small shrug in reaction.

"Third times the charm." With that he left the control room, sparing one last glance to New Adasta as he began to make the trek towards the cells in question.
 
"The Stormchaser"
Writer

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I
GALIDRAANI FREE-STATE
BLUE-HEART BRIGADE


KILL THEM ALL AND LET GOD SORT THEM OUT

OBJECTIVE 1: JUDGEMENT DAY
ZIOST, 865 ABY

Commonwealth Forces:

Allies (NIO): Strasza Strasza Julian Qar Julian Qar Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask

Allies (AC/GA/FO/SJC/): Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka Dagon Kaze Dagon Kaze

Enemies (TSE/CIS/EE): Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Nyxeris Nyxeris Laertia Io Laertia Io

Lord Erskine's Loadout (Wielded by Lance-Corporal Yorunarr)
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: Myles' Fairbairn Vibroknife (Right-hip Sheathe - right-or-left hand wielding)
Pocket-Weapons: Berach's Brass Knuckles (Both Trouser-Pockets - akimbo wielding)

Blue-Heart Brigade (Mechanized-Infantry)
220 Cataphract Tanks
32 AFVs
6 ACVs
1 Battalion of Riflemen
1 Company of Combat-Engineers
1 Company of Elite Combat-Medics

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The Hell of New Adasta: PRELUDE

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Free-State Headquarters, Archais
Two days before deployment

'Milord, my apologies for disturbing you so late into the night but- well, we've got new deployment orders.'

Ajaya's childhood friend had proven useful in previous months, getting gleaming reports from their supervisors for the times the Blue-Hearts had left for other deployments, like Csilla, Ilum and the latest flareups of war with the Sith Empire. Yorunarr had risen to the rank of corporal for his merits in being mentioned in dispatches for bravery on multiple isolated occasions, as had Ajaya, though with instructions to let his friend do the hard work for him, as being a high-value officer still had it's risks for the officer-prospect on home soil after the recent purging of the Outback's unruly Highland Provinces. As things stood, Yorunarr was coming in handy for much more than his merit in the field, especially in providing care and post-surgery assistance wherever it was needed; most of which involved running errands, issuing hand-written orders on Lord Erskine's behalf, and in this case, bringing orders back from those who would send Barran where they needed him to be. Letting the young Novanian open the door and enter without protest, the Stormchaser asked,'Where we shippin' off ti this time, lad? More border-pushing towards the Unknown Regions?'

'N-No, Milord.... I hate being the bearer of bad news, but- but you're being deployed to Ziost again.'

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'Whe- Ziost? Yorunarr, you see the condition I'm in, don't you? Kark it all to Hell, man! This job's gonnae be the end o' me, ah swear!'

Knowing Erskine would still attempt to deploy, even with all his protestations, the Novanian Corporal put the proverbial foot down and snapped,'I'm going with you, Milord. If you want Ajaya to stay, fine!', pausing to pour whiskeys for them both and helping Barran back onto his couch as Lady Carla loudly shushed them both from upstairs. Adhering to the Lady's wishes, both men sat on opposite couches and chuckled it off before Yorunarr returned to his irritatingly-solemn concern for his Lord-Commander. With a long and deep exhalation before sipping from his glass, the young Corporal looked out the nearest window, staring off into the stars for a while until he finally concluded,'But we both know you won't pick up medical help along the way if I don't go with you, so drink up and get to sleep. We need your strengths up for the journey, let alone Ziost itself.'

'Fine, we stop off at Carlac on the way. I have a friend who saved my life last time, and her husband can join us so he can help her keep me alive this time too. Ever heard the name,"Noel Strasza", or,"Julian Qar"? Thought so, we'll be fine as long as Halky-boi's fine with it.... Now, lets drink an' get back ti the wives. Lot o' paperwork an' engine-noises in the morning, an' a helluva lot ti talk aboot!'

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The Hell of New Adasta: Part 1 - IN MEMORIUM

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New Adasta, Ziost
00:22:23 Elapsed

Deciding this time, for more ease of comfort for all involved, (and also not risking the relic in a place where it's predecessors were made into relics, to begin with) Erskine would have an APC retrofitted with medical and seating features, also having words with Deaney on the matter of installing the map-holographic plinth and the Saga's custom-made comm-link unit, making sure the APC was ready for everything when the time came. Not even the previous top-turret would be kept from before, as everyone knew and relied on Johnstone's proficiency with the Saga's LMG, and knew they wouldn't have it any other way; giving a smoothbore to the lads bustling away in the back would only slow their incredible working-symbiosis to painfully intense standstills, and the Scout-AFV's turrets would be too much fun for them in contrast, having proven on Range 673 in Ravelin that they could burn through sickening amounts of ammunition for the calibre they were using that day.

'Aw'rite, Doc! Pick yer spot t'set up the aid-station, seems t'be safe aroon' here at least.'. Erskine started, pausing after realising that the armoured column was much further on into New Adasta than he'd previously calculated. Chuckling to himself, Barran shrugged it off, knowing what sort of Juggernauts he'd requested assistance from. The wheezing aspect of his laughter would pain the Brigadier-General near it's conclusion, causing him to growl quietly to himself before continuing,'Well, safe enough for us lot anyways. Though I do plan to push on if you're still up for keeping this auld dafty alive?', generally closing on the same question he knew Yorunarr would ask them if he didn't. Despite this, the Stormchaser was still glad his Novanian Corporal came along to see what Ajaya was getting himself in for, armed very well for a young Corporal, though Erskine had his reasons.

'As much as I can achieve as my Lord-Commander's protector, we need someone much greater for the Third Battle of Ziost.... We need you both.'

'Not to worry, Strasza. I plan to collect juggernauts as we go, beefing up the vanguard on the move.', Erskine said, cutting in to simmer down the mood a little. After all, the Lord-Commander always deployed with a workable plan in mind, given even further grounds for implementation in the process of getting the homework hours in; checking manifests for allies pledging to land on Ziost for a third outing, Erskine had been quietly piecing together every conceivable power-player on the ground as Barran's ideal roster began to yield guarantees with solid intel placing each individual within assault-range of Ziost's orbit. By the time they'd gotten everything and everyone off the drop-ships, Barran's master-plan was ready, making it easier for him to be assured of his strategy in concluding,'First, Zark San Tekka - aided in diminishing and destroying that shadow-storm from last time. After that, we're linking with the Ashlan Crusade to go all out on the freaks who remain in New Adasta. This planet's ours, they just don't know it yet - cursed as Ziost is, in reality.... I truly hate this karking place, right down to my fething bones!'

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Last edited:
Jokerman
Character
Objective I: Judgement Day
Gear: Armor | Lightsaber | Shoto
Tags: Felix Aquila Felix Aquila

Starlin stood in a garden. Surrounded by a stone wall that had remained intact despite the battle raging through the city streets, it was protected from the latest star war outside. Flowers in a variety of colors and shapes and sizes bloomed, while exotic fruits hung from the trees. It was all noticeably overgrown, too—a sign that the mansion it belonged to was long abandoned.

The boy pushed aside a curtain of thick green vines as he continued his search of the house and grounds. As far as he could tell, it was empty. No people, no pets, no droids, nothing.

He was preparing to leave when he heard a sudden crashing noise, like a flowerpot being knocked over. It was probably just an animal that had snuck in looking for water or food, he reasoned. But he was still going to check it out...
 
The Rovagug
Writer

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Z I O S T

A wild gale assaulted Elle as she stood, steadfast and resolute, on the wasted fields stretching beyond New Adasta. Many of the fields had fallen fallow, abandoned by the farmhands who once tended their crops and harvested their bounties. Empty shells of houses lined the roads, many cursed by the kiss of fire and the suffocation of ash. Neither the living nor the dead congregated here, for both had long passed from the world's memory.
All that remained was the echo of what once was, absent was the promise of what could be.
Yet, upon that same wind which assailed the young Jedi Knight came a whispering voice. Tantalizing was its words, beckoning with rapt anticipation; Come and See.
Beyond the margins of the ruins outside the walls of New Adasta was a necropolis, a place where the residents once buried their dead with all the melancholic tradition of their ancestors. Those traditions had long since been forgotten, the necropolis little more than a mangled charnel house as bombshells littered the rows. Ancient graves had been defiled, their contents spilled out onto the sullen earth while the memorials to their occupants worn away or broken into bits.
Great yawning pits had been dug here and there, filled with the still bodies of those who had died at the hands of Alliance soldiers. Now those who once stacked the bodies were gone, the dead left to spoil at the mercy of the elements.
Yet even further still were the oldest of the tombs, great mausoleums which had once housed the bodies of the ancient Sith that had lived on Ziost thousands and thousands of years ago. None had escaped destruction, ancient history snuffed out at the press of a button or the pull of a lever. All the doors were broken, sprawled out on the footpath, or blocking the entryway of each one.
The voice called out again, more insistent; Come and See.
Before Elle was another tomb, recently excavated. Stairs led down into the dark gulf below, the faint flicker of hololamps illuminating small portions of the path. The bones of the unearthed dead occasionally littered the walkways, mummified remains torn from their coffins and left out where they had been thrown. At the bottom of the stair was a long corridor, leading into lightless depths unplumbed by living souls for millennia until now.
What awaited Elle was a grand amphitheater, built during the reign of the ancient Sith Kings where they had once held court over their subjects. A throne, broken and occupant-less, sat at its center. Rising up along the far wall were rows upon rows of stone seats, all of them in various states of disrepair and ruin. Beams of sunlight shone in through tiny cracks in the ceiling where erosion had broken through from the surface world above.
"Welcome."
The voice of Darth Carnifex was threateningly close, the source coming from the same path that Elle had taken to reach this hidden sepulcher. The Dark Lord himself stood in the corridor, a single beam of light illuminating a portion of his face as he glowered at the Jedi Knight from under a wide hood. A cloak concealed the rest of his body, but from its outline, it was clear that he wore the same armor underneath that he had worn during their last meeting.
"Have you come to fulfill your destiny?"

 
Character
Character
Objective : 1 Judgement Day

Equipment : Plattenpanzer , Kriegertod

Opponent : Mrurh'en'lase | Hel Mrurh'en'lase | Hel

It is one of my many flaws to opine and wax philosophical on the battlefield. Perhaps this is to distract myself from the carnage I wreak. Perhaps it is a subtle side effect of the many ghosts I dredge up, both figuratively and literally. There will be none of that today. For I have decided to stake my claim for nobility. Plant my banner deep in the fertile ground and let the powers that be know that I am to ascend even unto their lofty ranks. My aspirations require more than strength of arm and alacrity of thought but command over legions of both the quick and the departed.

These latter forces I may call up myself but followers among the living are a harder host to corral. The mechanisms already put in place by the Sith are ready for the taking and this zealots crusade is the perfect opportunity to show that I deserve just that. I do not start this conflict as I have done so many times before by descending from the air but rather approach on foot at a full run. As I move the ground quakes beneath me. Nine tonnes of muscle bone and scale further reinforced by the enchanted plate armor that further bolsters my considerable natural defenses.

The crusaders are already torching houses. Promethean jets spray from the nozzles of backpack mounted flamethrowers. This is religious war at its most brutal, a pogrom with but one outcome, total genocide. I don't fault them. I plan to perpetuate much the same acts in time. But they are in the wrong place at the wrong time and I crush them in order to further my own goals. The first team feels the vibration as I thunder up the streets. Five armored crusaders reducing an occupied dwelling to rubble. One of the team notices and then points a gauntleted finger towards me calling the others to turn their flamethrowers on me as I approach.

Fools. My scales are flame retardant at the best of times and with my armor heat is only effective at the most extreme temperatures. I lower my head as I charge my horns hitting the first and second of the team. There is a crunch as the impact hits their armor. Bones shatter and organs rupture and even as the rest of the team bathes me in flames I crush them underfoot . No time to stop. No time to bask in the adrenaline, the ancient instincts that even now thrill at the hunt.

There is a troop transport up the street from me, a hover model affixed with a mounted heavy blaster. As I move I leap, muscles contracting before I spring. Not true flight, but a vast jump, aided and propelled by my wings. Several heavy shots punch into my armor. Naught but force hitting the skin bellow. It will bruise, but that's a small price to pay. Mentally I bid the spirts of the area to harken to my call, relay a message to the lords of the sith who are present.

" Arctus Silmar Arctus Silmar , freshly crowned Emperor , Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir Ingrid L'lerim-Vandiir elden Empress, bear witness to my prowess in battle. Watch as I grind thy enemies to dust, scattering their souls to the winds of chaos. Know that I, amongst my peers, am worthy of title and command. Last son of Basilisk and dauntless fist of the netherworld I offer this tithe unto you."

With that I hit the carrier. Flexing gauntleted talons I reach for the side of the vehicle lifting with all my might. It isn't easy , but with powerful muscles and sheer bloody minded determination I lift the transport from the ground spinning it as a great discus and send it hurtling through the air into a squad of advancing crusaders. They die on impact. The ones in the transport are not so lucky. There is a rupture from within the vehicles interior and a spark ignites the fuel tank.

The resulting explosion is deafening. Forty men dead in as many seconds. I count their souls as they are dragged into the aether, Ashla's hungry embrace calling them to the great hivemind that is her being. Drawing hot air into my lungs I roar out a challenge to any who would come and face me. Let none on the battlefield be ignorant of my deeds today.
 
little trouble
Character


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OBSCURING GLARE
ZIOST | NEW ADASTA | the new jedi order complement
THERE ARE TWO KINDS OF LIGHT;
THE GLOW THAT ILLUMINES
AND THE GLARE THAT OBSCURES

SHE IS MURDER
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She hadn’t been at the first two attacks on Ziost, but she’d heard about them. Heard about the darkness that plagued the planet, the shadows that were so heavy they were a part of the atmosphere, the dirt, the dust. Dust...was all she was expecting after everything had been regaled through briefings.

The Ashlan Crusade.

Just their name sparked a sense of holiness about it, and she loved the sweetness that rolled with their title along her tongue. It was smooth, pure and honest. There was no question in their intentions. No laziness. She loved it. She almost idolized it….until Sardun warned her the dangers of fantacasim and dealing with absolutes.

A similar sentiment was delivered by Battlemaster Tafo. The Ashlan Crusade was a searing sort of light –– the kind that blinded rather than illuminate. It seemed as though they fully expected the soldiers of the cause to make some sort of irredeemable fault.

Ishida, on the other hand, deeply resented that sentiment. These crusaders bore the name of the goddess of light herself. Their faith and emulation of their worship was to personify the Light’s truest form: Honesty, compassion, mercy, and self-sacrifice. There could be no flaw.

There could be no hesitation.

Carefully, she tightened the strap around her neck that fastened her rebreather around her neck. It was a carefully alchemized upper jaw from one of the Bryn’adûl drones. A feat in..many ways. One, a trophy (she hoped one of the Ashlan Crusaders might see it, compliment it, and ask about her victory) and two a scientific advancement in the sense it actually worked through the lung network of the Bryn’adûl to help her breath in less than friendly atmospheres. From the stories of the first two attacks on Ziost, she certainly expected atrocities on her lungs.

Their position was one of subtle watchfulness, herself and The Alliance’s personnel. Overseers in the shadows. Like chaperones ensuring the crusaders didn’t accidentally destroy any civilians that were unfortunate enough to remain alive, and who didn’t support The Sith reign.

It sounded high and mighty, but so far, it was just a lot of sneaky slinking around and no confrontation.

So..boring.

So condescending to the crusade she was otherwise internally fangirling over.

“This planet is filth.” Ishida judged, breaking the silence between herself and the Jedi Knight that she’d been partnered with.

"I hope they finally destroy it." She continued, speaking plainly and stooping for a moment to touch the street's grime, rubbing it between her index and thumb and watching the silt fall back from whence it came. "They're righteous enough."


ALLIES | ASHLAN CRUSADE | NJO | NIO| Aaran Tafo Aaran Tafo
ENEMIES | TSE | Evalina Betrik Evalina Betrik

 

Equipment: Hel's Lightclub | Robes
Objective: Engage the Sith | Judgment Time
Targets: Ulrich Ulrich
Enemies: TSE | TSE Allies
Allies: Ashlan Crusade | Ashlan Crusade Allies
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"We're going to Ziost. We're going in with the spearhead. We leave within the hour."

Mrurh'en'lase grimaced at the sentence almost immediately, the words not fully hitting her recognition for five seconds of uneasy silence. Shakily, she set her cup of
Rise & Shine down onto the polished glass table of her dormitory and let out a shuddering breath. She had herself hoped that the cinnamon mocha would have calmed her nerves for the deployment notes, the full announcement of which she had missed due to prioritizing the gym over her expected attendance. It was almost funny to her - for a moment - that what was to have been a nice treat before the march to battle should have more appropriately been more poison for her liver to avoid that battle. Enough to incapacitate her, get her on a gurney, and spend the next few weeks in a hospital. If only, right?

After the cup had been placed on the glass surface, her gloved hands trembled and she pulled them away to set down on her knees. The overall shaking of her body was subtle enough so as to not be noticed by those in the room with her, although that mattered little to nothing due to the sudden spike of adrenalin that shot through her body. It was anger, fear, sadness, panic. The markings of anyone besides a Jedi, hidden enough under a veneer of quiet brooding, but they could sense it. Hell, it didn't take a Force Sensitive to sense it. The air itself changed around her, and her eyes had grown dark and grim - the normal lush vibrant red now a deep maroon of solemn regret.

The others - Joyce Lahan, Irik Tongap, and Oin Bjarnsen - looked to her with worried glances and she briefly looked to them with lips parted in a way to imply she wanted to ask something. She asked nothing, and they could only guess as to what it could have been. Regardless, it was a knowing expression they had donned as they looked to her. It was clear that any hopes of the announcement going over smoothly were dashed in that brief instant, the hybrid's own expression telling the story. While they said nothing on the matter, they all knew for certain that it was a terrible thing she had just heard and that they had just told her. Perhaps the single most terrible thing anyone could have told her. But even that would be an understatement.


Shame.

Her mouth had gone dry as her heart raced as fast as a ship in hyperspace, beating against her chest in a war drum-like fashion. Beads of sweat formed in tiny clusters on her forehead, thankfully hidden by the locks of purple silver hair that covered her head which would soon be covered in the grease of dread. Her foot began tapping a rapid rhythm that had no tune or cohesion, each tap of varying hardness and speed. Rap-tap-tap-rap. Rap-rap-tap-rap. Tap-tap-tap-rap. For the hybrid, this world and its sickening filth had clung to her like old dung spilled into a trash compactor. It had coated her in its stink for nearly a year now - or perhaps more than a year, if her calculations were off, which they likely were. But no matter the time that had passed, the memories were as fresh as if she had stepped upon its vile grounds yesterday.

The images of Laertia Io - the She-Wolf of the Jedi and Traitor Hound of the Sith - and the dominance she held over the hybrid flashed before her eyes like holographic pictures. Each deflected attack showcasing an opportunity missed; each misplaced step a regress from her training; each wound inflicting lasting agony on her mind for years to come after this one; getting captured after succumbing to the darkness of the Sith perverting her mind and twisting her soul to the point of catatonia. The Sith...the most damnable things in the universe that would just not go away. They just could not go away. They were carrion crawlers eating the marrow of a hundred thousand million corpses.


Why won't they go away, Mrurh'en'lase? Why are they always in your mind? Did you ever think...that it's your fault?

It wasn't...it wasn't entirely her fault, and some part of her knew that. Everyone suffered on Ziost because of the actions of one person opening a stupid box. But, her loss of control and the emotions that she had let loose in that violent tirade not minutes after landing would forever be her humiliation. No amount of training from Allyson Locke Allyson Locke could ever fix that, and no amount of healing by the mystics could ever achieve that. Suppress and hide? Yes. But never heal and never mend. In fact, it was only the presence of those three in the room that kept her from screaming out that shame. Instead, she rose from the table and slapped on as best a professional working face as she could, shrugged, and motioned for them to join her in heading out of the dormitories.

Rage...

Each step was a crack of thunder and each glare shot at anyone unlucky enough to cross her path was a bolt of red lightning. Her muscles were taught against her skin, tense and flexing to their maximum expansion and pushing her veins out to worrying protrusion. Her feet crackled against the stone and metal of the halls and, eventually, the carrier ship's interior. Mrurh'en'lase should have been able to escape this damned thing - this fracking invasion of this fracking planet and its fracking horrors.

She did so the second time the Alliance brought war to the world, but only by virtue of being labeled "temporarily unfit for service." A saying used for people on the verge of becoming invalids, cripples, and asylum-worthy hospital patients. In her opinion, she only survived morphing into that by way of her uncanny physical hardiness and stubbornness to being knocked down and not getting back up. How fitting that it was by Mrurh'en'lase refusing to allow that to happen that she was now paying for it - as well as for not downing a hundred gallons of black ale before the announcement.

She was locked in, and she hated every second of it.

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As it had before, the shuttle shook and quaked as it descended through the atmosphere amid the chorus of anti-air rounds, starfighter dogfights, and exploding vessels that would never see another flight. A shout over the radio next to their shuttle pilot crackled to life before being cut out with a blast of unseen flame and shrapnel. Somewhere in the near distance over New Adasta, a ship burst aflame and careened towards the frantic panicking streets, denting the ground and killing dozens.

Mrurh'en'lase closed her eyes as she felt their deaths, quickly before using much of her energy to shut off the empathic abilities of her cursed Zeltron blood. She could not afford it again to fall to its effects and become nothing more than a heavily muscled stick. She and her compatriots - Jedi and veteran infantry - were part of the spearhead, unfortunately enough, and that meant business and focus. At any other time, in any other invasion, Mrurh'en'lase would likely have been part of the second or third waves, and especially with Master Locke, but this was no normal invasion. This was the third invasion of Ziost, and it had to work this time. This planet had to fall or this border of Sith Space would never buckle and never bend. In Master Locke's place, a human male by the name of Dol Hox stood. He was taller than Mrurh'en'lase by an inch, skinner too, but his skill was undeniable.

Fortunately, he quipped, this was likely as bad as it was going to get. Before the defending Sith forces could get distracted enough by the invading forces on the ground, these Jedi would have to face dogged defense intent on driving them away before any damage could be done. After that, if they still lived, they would have a much easier time doing what needed to be done - although their...approach to the objective would naturally be less zealous than the Ashlan Crusaders they called ally this day.


Not yours though, right Mrurh'en'lase? Oh no, you're a violent one. The most anti-Jedi of them all here. What would Allyson think to see you so violent on this world? You're angry-y-y-y-y just thinking about it. You want to kill-l-l-l-l them all before she sees.

"I will fracking kill you," she blurted out under her breath, her eyes flashing a horrifically bright crimson for a half-second. Against the sounds of war and the flashes of light coming in through the transparisteel port windows, none of her compatriots appeared to hear or see. None, at least, but Master Hox who was on the verge of saying something when the world went red and then black.

When Mrurh'en'lase came to moments later, she was in some ruined building on the fourth floor, Master Hox standing above her with only a couple of the Jedi that had been in the vessel. Each was bloodied or injured in some way, but still of fighting capability, it seemed. There was no time to ask what had happened, though, as Master Hox helped the hybrid to her feet and handed her the Lightclub she had created to replace her Fang. She thanked him silently with a nod that was immediately punctuated by another explosion, this one some ways to the west beyond a string of buildings that had been plastered by artillery fire. Mrurh'en'lase's eyes widened greatly as a roar echoed through the air seconds later and the urge to meet it with her own on brutish instinct was barely suppressed.


"That is where we are going, Jedi," Master Hox proclaimed. "Prepare yourselves, and steel your hearts against the darkness."
 

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G R U N G E
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
EMBEDDED WITH | 1st BATTALION 506th INFANTRY REGIMENT
JUDGEMENT DAY
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
Defiant Pattern APCU (Ashla Armed Forces) | SRK-65 Service Rifle | DSP-61x Hybrid Pistol | Cradle | Grenades

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YOUNG MEN DEAD
ZIOST '65

New Adasta had a strange history in recent times. But almost all of it, was brutal. It'd been glassed twice over by those sworn to defend it- yet the cruelty it inflicted unto the invading forces and, by extension, the people of New Adasta hardly garnered any sympathy from the New Imperial Order's attacking force and certainly not from the Ashlan Crusaders.

The remains of war was evident in the streets, the smell of death permeating in the air. Whether it was a preemptive sensation wrought by his experience or whether the essence of the reaper lingered from earlier engagements. Regardless, it was heavy and death would rake his scythe through these broken roads once more before long.

Headed down the wide corridor heading into New Adasta the crack and blasts of warfare echoed in the distance, a distant but constant shock to the system in reminder that it was war now. Grunge wasn't adverse to these conditions, trained down one of the most strenuous pipelines and now veteran to multiple combat operations of varying scales, his worry wasn't on him- but his unit.

He glanced backward at the sound of creeping gunfire erupting in the city limits, looking to each of their eyes. Most of them, equipped with some level of brazen confidence, genuine or not, it was still the best option. Others, there was anxiety, fear, uncertainty. Only natural, that was how they really all felt, deep down, certainly in their first engagement. There'd be men with no idea how to operate beyond the fast twitch reactions and cyclical movements that came from training and then there were those more than happy to breathe fire in return.

And then there were her eyes. They looked back at him like nothing else. Half that gaze was seemingly focused on the mission ahead of them, as she should be. But another part of it seemed to look back at him with the inkling that there was some level of reciprocated care and reassurance in those piercing emerald eyes. He offered nothing in return but a nod to her words. They were soon reaching the first objective point. And it was time to start clearing.

"We got word back from force recon- enemy mech units up ahead, Commander." One of the Ashlan troopers, a Lieutenant, green, fresh from his officer's training under the New Imperial tutelage at Adumar remarked the way of Grunge who nodded in return, glancing back to the columns of infantry stacked on either side of the street corridor.

"Noted, Lieutenant. Get second platoon out and ahead to take point Besh, we'll build at point Aurek and move out from there. Maintain constant contact, identify exact target buildings, no one goes anywhere without you knowing it, Understood?" He said, cold and sternly to the officr, he wanted a reaffirmation in reply.

"Copy, sir." Wasn't good enough. Grunge had to reassure him what to look for.

"I've seen it too many damn times, blue on blue, green on blue, don't leave any box unchecked out here in these cities, trooper. It's real damn easy to get confused in these urban jungles where each and every building looks the same. Remember the brief, keep communication up." He spoke like there was an incident in mind to match his intensity in the tone.

"I understand, sir. Gotta prevent confusion." A bit better.

"And don't move too fast, if your sappers see something they don't like, stop and check it out. We'll be here all f*cking year if we have to. I'm not leaving this damn planet on a transport or a bodybag only to have more of our own having to come back and clean up our mess. Not again. It's now or never." He stressed before motioning him away with a flattened hand where he nodded once, crossing the street to regroup with his own unit.

They'd be the first to meet the droids in the hex grid adjacent to them. Meanwhile, Grunge scoped out the first point of fortification. All the while, any building they went past, half a section of Ashlan troopers were there to berrate the doorway before entering with violence, clearing each building.

<"Got our first point- looks like a plaza, good to move supply into, can probably call up the Cataphracts to set down here once we have the surrounding buildings clear- set up in one of these multi story points likely..."> He paused, consulting the battle map overlay on the on the corner of his heads up display. Prior to any Ashlan trooper under New Imperial advisory entering the city, each and every building in New Adasta was marked, to be able to quick hand triangulate their position in relativity to anything else.

<"Echo-nine-one."> The main building at this plaza. Meant a big target but also, better eyes.

He crouched down before slowly moving to grasp ahold of an object buried and neglected in ash and urban dust, taking it into both hands he wiped the front of it off with his left hand before the gaze of a Galactic Alliance Marine's Katarn helmet peered back at him, painted in the decoration of the 107th Marine Raider Battalion 'Wolfpack'.

<"If it looks good by you, we'll take up defensive pos-"> A landspeeder not a few meters away from Grunge exploded, abruptly, sending him back unto the ground before a hail of blaster fire enveloped the block.

They were in it now.



ALLIES | AC | NIO | Sephi Karneh Sephi Karneh | Erskine Barran Erskine Barran | Julian Qar Julian Qar
ENEMIES | TSE | OPEN FOR SMOKE
 
defy the tyrannous stars
Writer
"Pegasus on final approach. We'll be over the drop site in five."

"Copy that, flight. Do me a favor and thank Commodore Kathause for the ride."

Strapped into his drop harness there was little for General San Tekka to do but relay the news and wait. Less than a day ago he'd been meditating in his cabin on board the Morai when a disturbance in the Force prompted him to investigate. Ziost was something like a curse back in the Alliance yet Zark had managed to talk High Command into sanctioning a force recon mission while targeted strikes along the Daragon Trail set Esstran Sector worlds ablaze. Liedran commanded a small task force of volunteers brave enough to return where so many GADF soldiers gave their lives and the greater Sith campaign was finally blunted.

"Stand by for drop. May the Force be with you, General."

"I know it is."

There was a feeling of weightlessness then a pressure against his chest as inertial dampeners struggled to compensate for gravitational free fall. An inferno quickly raged outside his viewport as the General's drop pod descended through Ziost's upper atmosphere. Steel rain began to fall on New Adasta's remains. He surrendered himself to the terror of it for here Zark was no different than a trooper under his command. True helplessness was an unfamiliar feeling for a Jedi Master. Wrestling with that survival instinct would only allow it to overcome him.

Retro boosters engaged and his stomach turned. He felt a jarring impact when the pod landed at what seemed like just shy of terminal velocity. Explosive charges cracked it in half when he pulled the release catch and Master San Tekka leaped down toward all too familiar scorched earth. His Jedi armor clanked softly when he landed. He lifted his burning energy blade by the crossguard hilt. It was part challenge and part rallying cry for the marines under his command would be drawn to the redeemed kyber's distinctive white blaze just like their enemy.


"Commander Dane!"

"Not dead then, wizard?"

Thracians like Dane could be superstitious for they were a tribal people. Many saw them as little more than brutal savages and Dane certainly fought like one but he also knew how to lead men in his own simple way. 912th Attack Battalion's reputation for calculated ferocity under his guidance was part of why they had been selected for this operation. His armor was covered in ritualistic warrior markings but Zark certainly wasn't about to cite uniform code regulations at someone carrying a heavy repeater cannon.

"We need to make contact with the New Jedi Order landing party. Weapons tight. Withdraw if any Ashlan zealots challenge our authority. Once we've established a beachhead we'll link up with the NIO's 506th and-"

"With respect sir," Dane cut him off, "Just tell me who to clobber and my boys will take care of the rest."
 
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Darth Xiphos
Character
Laertia Surveyed The Battlefield of New Adasta with Range finders.

NIO AND Ashlan Crusade. She tensed, sensing Erskine Barran Erskine Barran here. The man didn't give up, she'd give him that much. They wanted New Adasta this time, and didn't care how much blood was shed.

If they could be denied New Adasta once more, it would likely Sabotage their efforts across this whole sector. She was avowed to do whatever was necessary to assure this.

My Sons. She called out to them with her Technopathy. Columns of Infantry are moving down a wide avenue to New Adasta. Dispatch Century Tanks in that area and four quarter Columns of your brothers with back up Legionnaires to intercept. I want a few Model 1 Sniper Teams dispatched to likely NIO Incursion points. Send some of the Tri-Droids ahead of you. She requested.

Century Tanks and a lot of pissed off Model 2's were soon rumbling their way to the Avenue Kolson Vrask Kolson Vrask and his units were moving down. The Century Tanks, ten in all, didn't Stay put, Their Model 2 Pilots constantly moving in a strange zig-zag pattern to frustrate targeting attempts, 4 Model 2 Columns of 25 units apiece leading in front of Sith Legionnaires as the tanks weaved around them, each column coming from four different angles at the Plaza to attempt to blunt Kolson's advance, hail storms of very weak bolts from Their Laser cannons in the front rows of their columns saturating the air with red streaks at a high rate of fire, trying to hit and kill not just him but everyone around him, The Laser Cannons not meant to kill outright, but instead have such a high ammo pool that near Constant suppressing fire could be maintained. Back rows of the Model 2 Columns hurled Thermal and Sonic Imploder grenades at very far distances due to their immense strength, where they would land and detonate among platoons.

Model 1 Sniper Teams began to reinforce this offense, starting to snipe at the Ashlan Soldiers trying to move from House to House and kill whatever was inside, The fired from the cover of burned out buildings, hitting and killing Commanding Officers, identifying them through sheer body language of whomever was around them.

That was not the only Hazards they began to Encounter.

Some unlucky soldiers set off some of the randomly placed, invisible Magic traps that had been set up by The Cult of The Brain Demon, some blasted upward by a magical sonic scream that shredded flesh and Armor. Most didn't die, instead being horribly maimed.

Ashlan Soldiers breaking into houses were starting to get nasty surprises, in the form of Automated laser traps, simple IED's, or even just a Nuetralizer Dual Wielding Model 1 Disruptors into the breaching teams, inflicting horrible, painful deaths.

"THE WAY THAT YOU HOOOOOOLLLD MEEEE, WHENEVER YOU HOLD MEEEEEEE---THERE'S SOME KIND OF MAGIC INSIIIIIIDE YOUUUUUUU, THAT KEEPS ME FROM RUNNING, SO JUST KEEP IT COMING. HOW'D YOU LEARN TO DO, THE THINGS YOU DOOOOO-" The Model 2 Columns sang as they advanced...

"Impressive."

Xiphos froze, hearing the familiar voice of the horrible beast that had helped her out here before.

Xiphos turned, spotted The Battalion The Battalion waiting with hands clasped behind her back.

("Rock Your Body." By Justin Timberlake Plays)

Xiphos felt her mouth go dry, thankful her Black helm hid her nervous, uncertain expression. She felt nauseated at finding The Witch attractive. And Ashamed.

The gorgeous, pale skinned witch in a White Catsuit slinked forward.

"Did you miss me?" The Witch asked, smiling arrogantly.

Xiphos fumbled a few seconds at the response.

"I...uh...we'll be wading into the thick of combat shortly...have you prepared?"

The Battalion whipped out a pair of Sunglasses.

"Always." She said, putting them on.

Ishida Ashina Ishida Ashina

Zark San Tekka Zark San Tekka

Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson

Erskine Barran Erskine Barran
 
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