Invasion Return the Blade | COV Invasion of TSC-held Humbarine

[Carduul Akahl]

Direct Tag: Meliant

Ally Objective Tags: Feydrik Munin , The Arkanian , Iris Beroya , Darion of Myrkr , Romul Saxon
Reaction: Isobel Serraris

The Mandalorian could tell there was a lot of comms traffic once they had landed. Not only from the enemy, but those they had come to retrieve as well. Individual who had already risked much to come here. The exchanges between the other members of the Covenant could only embolden him to this course of action. Hearing the booms of designated strikes, the cheers of last-second extractions, and the formulation of strategies against massive new threats. All he need do was buy time, and by the Manda he would do so.

All the better that he would reap his share of honorable combat to do it.

As a beachhead formed in the evolving assault, the initial resistance was quite easily driven back. His summons were answered by several disparate teams they had been sent to retrieve, and nearby drop-squads would rally upon him as beckoned. One of the number addressing him directly; and so his Y-visored gaze cast upon to look at his brother-in-arms, The Arkanian . The simplistic names given earned a small nod, only for a gaze to be cast upwards. An eclipse, which most certainly was not natural. Manipulation far beyond imperials.

“...I shall be glad for any able body I can have, vode, for this daunting-yet-valorous task.” He proclaimed curtly in turn to the freshly-arrived squadron, blaster fire scorching past overhead. He turned, a point towards the Command Center of which he had set his sights upon. “Our enemy- this rot, deserves whatever excision we may deliver before our leave. They attempt to frighten us with paltry tricks and these fools they've cajoled into service—but they shall yet know the life of the hunted.”

He knew, of course, that the Sith pervaded nearly every ‘Empire’ to come into existence. Corrupted them. Turning any possible notion of noble ideals, of their championed law and order, into sycophants vying for power and gluttonous destroyers. He had once said that in taking such worlds as his own, he would simply restore the Empire to what it wished—only with a new perspective, the Mandalorian perspective to approach it. What he had come here today was merely finishing off some torn remnants of the last Empire’s vestiges- to excise a tortured, rotted limb…but it had slowly become apparent they had stumbled onto something more. Like a festering tumor, it made itself apparent that this was no mere remnant. T’was so cancerous, they must have been doing far more damage than he intended to do. What it was exactly, he could not quite ponder in the heat of battle. For now, he had death to court.

Carduul’s musings were unceremoniously interrupted by the groan and sudden hurling of metal in his direction—something that finely-tuned senses, even in the midst of a battlefield, could not help but to notice. By the time he looked, it had already been soaring in his direction. “MOVE!” He barked to those who surrounded him, and the sudden expulsion of jet-fuel shrieked in turn. Not all were fortunate to evade in time- a harsh crack! or two coming from the more green of his number caught by the large hunk of metal. Inevitable, as Crusader doctrine would decree, but terrible losses to him nonetheless.

“...And, I believe you’ve found your first hunt of the day.” Came a knowing statement towards The Arkanian , tone rife with venomous bile that could not be directed at the attacker this moment. He could tell just from the downward glance towards the ground-floor, hovering from above—t'was a sith, just as suspected. “Make it count. Tell me the tale when we meet again.”

He could not be distracted from his duty. For now, his body twisted mid-flight to land upon clear ground, his polearm hoisted high in a forward jut. His blaster pistol sang out in his off-hand, exchanging fire all the same with the defenders that stood in their way. “Forwards, onwards!” Was the cry, “Once we clear out the perimeter guard, we shall see to those emplacements and push further still!”

So the front line began to painstakingly move at his utterance, commanded by the inexorable will that was unified by creed. As more defenders fell, skirmishes began to break out all across the Command Center's perimeter. The roar of blaster fire, explosions, charges detonated- it would all, inevitably, necessitate a response.

 

[The Arkanian]

THE ARKANIAN
LANDING ZONE | HUMBARINE
TAG: Isobel Serraris | Carduul Akahl
GEAR: See Bio

“MOVE!” He barked to those who surrounded him, and the sudden expulsion of jet-fuel shrieked in turn. Not all were fortunate to evade in time- a harsh crack! or two coming from the more green of his number caught by the large hunk of metal.

At the Anointed's words, the Arkanian kicked off the ground with his repulsor skates and skimmed in a sideways slide across the battlefield, feet hovering a few inches off the rubble strewn street.

He saw the flash of the hurled freighter, then threw up an arm to cover his face as the jet fuel ignited and an explosion rippled outward. Heat and light struck him and the blast pressure pushed him physically backward on his skates. The Arkanian grunted, lowering his arm. He really should not have thrown it up like that. Reflex. His T-visor had automatically polarized and if his beskar helmet would not stop whatever hit him then his arm certainly would not.

Scarred features grimacing at the sight of at least one body in the wreckage, the Arkanian's head snapped back around as Alor Akahl spoke again.

“...And, I believe you’ve found your first hunt of the day.” Came a knowing statement towards The Arkanian The Arkanian , tone rife with venomous bile that could not be directed at the attacker this moment. He could tell just from the downward glance towards the ground-floor, hovering from above—t'was a sith, just as suspected. “Make it count. Tell me the tale when we meet again.”

"Ugh, Force User," the former Purge Trooper knew what type of being tossed around entire star freighters, "Good hunting, Alor. I'll show ya the trophy after."

Skating toward the indicated prey to close the distance, the Arkanian raised his Stouker concussion rifle and squeezed the trigger. A particle of ionized air lanced outward, shimmering toward his target. If it struck her head on, the resulting concussive blast could liquify internal organs and shatter bones inside armor. Sure, it wouldn't dent or pierce the armor. But that just meant that the Arkanian got to collect a nice intact trophy suit afterward. It could not be blocked by a lightsaber, which was a bonus if she was in fact a Force User. And on top of that, even if she managed to get out of the way the resulting shockwave did not need to hit her directly. Even a blast that landed near her feet, for example, could cause soft tissue, organ damage, and send her flying.

Downside? Limited ammunition. But he had contingencies.

"Sic' 'em," he pointed at the Force User.

Terror croaked, then the several hundred pound oggmiri lizard leaped through the air toward the Force User. If it managed to land near her its nullification bubble would help pin her in place.

The Arkanian did not know if she was some sort of Humbarine inquisitor - which he had never heard of - or a Sith. If she was a Sith, it begged the question of why she was here. But honestly, it did not matter. They would kill them all. Imperial Remnant. Sith. Even Jedi. Whatever it took to bring back their people.

He didn't know if he believed in the "cause" or the brotherhood of the "vod" yet. But he did believe in the feeling of bones crunching beneath his crushgaunts and standing over a captured enemy knowing there was no greater proof that he was better.

Music​

 

[Yolaghun]

STAR DRAGON
OBJECTIVE 2: CRACK THE SHELL
LOCATION: Humbarine Orbit | Exterior of the Spirit Breaker
ALLIES: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Mythos Fleet | Iron Covenant
ENEMIES: Humbarine Defense Fleet | Imperial Forces​

Spoiler: GEAR

Armor: Drahr'gam, Krayt Round Shield
Weapon: Drahr'kad​

Yolaghun had been flying among the Basilisks since the first wave broke toward the crippled Spirit Breaker. He needed no cockpit, boarding pod, or sealed transport. The void had been his home long before he had found the Mando'ade, and the weightlessness of open space felt more natural than any planet beneath his claws. Around him, the Mythos Fleet and the Humbarine Defense Fleet tore into one another in a storm of turbolaser fire, mass-driver rounds, and streaking starfighters. Basilisk war droids surged toward the Imperial formation to sever the corridor between the dying Star Destroyer and the rest of its fleet, while gunships and boarding pods swung wide behind their screen.

The Spirit Breaker loomed ahead of them, wounded and burning. Pale streams of atmosphere vented from ruptured sections of its hull. Flame spilled soundlessly into the void as shattered plating and broken machinery drifted away from the ship in a growing cloud of debris. Yolaghun folded his wings and accelerated alongside the boarding wave as an Imperial point-defense cannon turned toward one of the approaching pods. Its barrel tracked the incoming craft, preparing to fire.

Yolaghun reached it first.

White-blue plasma erupted from his jaws with the force of a turbolaser strike. The emplacement glowed, warped, and burst apart beneath the concentrated blast. Yolaghun tore through the expanding cloud of molten debris just as an Imperial fighter swept in behind him, its weapons flashing against the darkness. He twisted beneath the barrage and caught the passing craft with both claws when its pilot came too close. Beskar-reinforced talons punched through the hull. Momentum carried them together for several seconds before Yolaghun released the crippled fighter and let it tumble away into the battle.

The boarding pods struck the Spirit Breaker behind him, punching hard into the hull. Yolaghun watched them for only a moment before turning his attention toward the planet below. Humbarine hung beneath the dying ship, its surface half-obscured by smoke and gathering darkness. The Star Destroyer was falling toward the city where his brethren were still fighting to extract their trapped vode.

Yolaghun slammed into the destroyer's outer hull hard enough to buckle damaged plating beneath his weight. His claws dug into the metal while his natural repulsorlifts flared against the fall. He spread his wings, braced every limb against the ship, and pushed.

"Move," he growled through his armor's transmitter. "My vode are still down there!"

The idea was absurd. The Spirit Breaker was a Star Destroyer. Yolaghun was still young and far smaller than an adult Duinuogwuin. Even a dragon could not easily force something so massive to change its course. He strained against the hull anyway, muscles tightening beneath his armor as blue-white light burned behind his eyes. The planet remained beneath him. The ship continued to fall. If he altered its trajectory at all, the difference was too slight to see.

Once, Yolaghun might have kept pushing until either the ship moved or something inside him broke. The hyperstorm and the starweirds had taught him better. Strength mattered. Knowing where to apply it mattered more. He released one claw and pulled the destroyer's failing systems across his HUD. Damaged thrusters and external control systems flickered across the display, but tearing into them blindly could make the descent worse. He did not know whether the Covenant wanted the Spirit Breaker redirected, delayed, or simply left intact long enough for the boarders to take what they needed before impact.

Yolaghun opened a channel to the Covenant Navy.

"The Spirit Breaker is still falling toward the city. Do you want me to try to turn it, or keep the way clear until the boarding teams are finished?"

Fresh hostile signatures flickered across his HUD before an answer came, cutting through the debris field toward the boarding route. Yolaghun tore his claws free from the buckled plating and launched himself from the hull, placing his armored body between the approaching fighters and the pods embedded in the destroyer behind him. Whatever the fleet decided, Yolaghun would make certain the boarders had time to finish their work.
​

TAGS: OPEN
Kjartan Hammer-Hand Seva Beroya ​

 

[Delvin jeth]

Equipment: Lightsaber, 1 vial of rakghoul plague, 1 vial of black wing virus, basic armor, cloak

Madalorian enemies tag: Andras Garon / open

Sith tag: open
Delvin walked not ran to deal with the threats he had come prepared his lightsaber in one hand as he walked the streets a few vials of diseases he had that had been known through the galaxy. For centuries secured in steel and glass. He sliced through imoerial faction and random mandalorians with ease "we are supposed to be worried about these people" delvin said standing there. Mostly talking to himself none of the mandalorians he killed has beskar on them which was depressing but the arkanian didnt mind.

His cold uncaring aura could be felt by those around him that was force sensitive as he continued walking examining a mandalorians helmet to see how it worked he could sense Srina Talon and Mercy On the bell tower. But payed them no mind as souls and warriors ran around doing battle the geneticist was here for his own end as he usually was but he would help the tsc none the less. Especially if it mean he got something out of it as he walked his curved hilt lightsaber now strapped to his side as he walked the streets of hambarine ready for more combat. With a cold indifference for the planets issues as he wore common armor as he walked the streets of the planet under threat still examining that mandalorian helm that was covered in blood.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Humbraine - The Governorate Armory

Equipment:
Knight Attire | Lightsaber | Shoto | Cybernetic Arm

Ace's hand remained pressed against his side for only a moment before he pulled it away and looked down. The bolt had burned more than penetrated. A nasty graze beneath the ribs that was painful and annoying, but nothing that would slow him down.

The realization should've been reassuring, but it just made him angrier. Angry that he'd been distracted and allowed himself to lose focus, that a mistake so simple had managed to slip through his guard at all. It wasn't going to happen again.

The pain lingered beneath his ribs like a brand, feeding the frustration already simmering beneath the surface. That frustration became anger, anger became strength, and the Dark Side answered eagerly.

For a moment he felt Tamsin again through the Force. The fear. The confusion. The turmoil spiraling through her web. He recognized it for what it was immediately. And ignored it.

Whatever battle she was fighting belonged to her. He had his own.

Dark brown eyes slowly shifted and gold crept across his irises. Ace moved, the crate exploded apart behind him as he launched upward in a Force-assisted leap, clearing the cover entirely.

Varin was exactly where he'd expected him to be. Holding and anchoring the line. Covering the opening Ace had left behind. He landed beside the larger Sith in a low crouch before immediately exploding forward again.

The first Death Trooper never even raised his weapon, Ace's lightsaber flashed once and the trooper's helmet separated cleanly from his shoulders. Ace pivoted through the motion and thrust out his prosthetic arm. The Force crashed forward in a violent wave, lifting two more troopers off their feet and hurling them bodily into the corridor wall hard enough to dent armor and crack metal.

Another opened fire and Ace stepped through the incoming bolts. One deflected into the ceiling while another returned directly into the trooper's chest. The third missed him entirely as he closed the distance and drove his lightsaber through black armor before ripping it free in a spray of sparks.

He moved with a cold and feral ferocity, showing no signs of the restraint he'd shown earlier. Every movement existed solely to eliminate the next target as quickly as possible.

A Death Trooper lunged from the side. Ace caught him with the Force and slammed him headfirst into the floor three times before the body stopped moving.

Arris' voice crackled over the comms, he heard every word but didn't answer, simply continuing forward. One Death Trooper after another.

One mistake repaid with violence. He wasn't going to allow himself to be distracted again.

Arris Windrun | Varin Mortifer | Tamsin Starfall | Lily Rhodes | Vess Sadragen​

 

[Feydrik Munin]

Feydrik took his stance as the Sith moved into position. He saw it plain as day, a movement of the hand, the tell-tale 45-degree draw of a weapon. A blade. But not the lightsaber he had. His helmet provided insight- a 360 degree scanner meant that he was hard… if not impossible to sneak up on. Feints and moving off his centerline didn’t throw him off like the others the Sith faced.

So, the dagger was parried, sparks flying as Mandalorian steel met the dagger meant for ceremony. Feydrik took a step back, his footwork indicative of his specialty, simultaneously ready to move forward and backward. He was aggressive, he was violent. Feydrik curled his fist and cried out in anger.

“Draw your weapon, Sith!” He said through gritted, angry teeth. He wanted the conflict, he wanted the war. Sith were rare opponents… and Feydrik would not be denied his right to a great battle. A great battle, even if it was to be his last. The rush of death, the possibility of it…. Excited him so. Much more than the screams of crowds, the masses for autographs and sponsors than he’d known before.

“Do not deny me this!” He said, much more quietly. Feydrik wanted the best of his enemy, his honored foe. He did not want half measures. He had to know. He needed to prove to himself that he could face a Sith, face that foe.

@Kasir Doran

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Objective I //:
//: Darion of Myrkr //: Iris Beroya //:
//: Attire //:
//: Equipment in Signature //:

Humbarine, she was here only because of friendship and something more. That something more was a necessary distraction of the heart. Too often, the girl had allowed herself to find affections in the wrong places, only to get her heart broken a million times over. This time was no different, but she had foolishly assumed she could be different.

But the galaxy and all its occupants wanted one thing from the young Queen of Eshan.

A Sith.

Naboo had been a place that allowed her to believe she could be something more, something beyond the religion she had been born into. Hiding and suppressing the dreadful thing that rooted her soul to this life was all she knew. A life in hiding, but even then, it didn't allow her the chance to exist in a world of beauty and elegance. Instead, that beauty was only a ruse, carefully crafted by the Light.

Even thinking about it now, she scoffed.

Imperials were to be dealt with, and as her role as a Dark Councilor, it would fall to her. A small group of guards came with her as she traveled to deal with the resistance.

Unknown to her, her confusion and her softness for the Mandalorians would put her into a situation she was ill-prepared for.

Ambushed, as soon as she had touched down. The guards that were sent to aid her, slaughtered… but not just their hands, but her own. She needed their life essence, their life cannibalized to stabilize hers.

The ambush was quick and deadly for both sides, but Quinn had stopped caring. She instantly released the horrible device in her body, letting the miasma of darkness fill the space around her. Her presence in the force was a sickening dread that clouded the mind and fueled the dark side.

A staff, extended in her hand, as her guard fell to the ground, and the group of Mandalorians charged in. The force imbued upon the blade enhanced and strengthened the metal. Beskar would no longer be their foolish savior. With the might of the force, the Echani threw the weapon at the closest target.

The sharpened edge of the spear cut through the beskar'gam chest plate as if it were butter. Before the body hit the ground, the Echani was upon it, drawing the spear from its chest. Preparing for the next. The slaughter continued, a blur moving and cutting through the patrol that had ambushed her and the Sith guard.

It was over before anyone could breathe, and she stood there for a moment looking down at her armored hand. Blood dripped from her face, but it was not her own. Her breathing labored, and as the storm began to roll in, dark clouds fed off of the Mother's hatred that lingered in the air.

Quinn felt it.

She found the joy, the surge of power that echoed in the Dark Side of the Force.

Thick bolts of crimson lighting surged through the sky as monstrous claps of thunder shook the skies above. Quinn inhaled as she could sense more fighting around her. Blasters and pockets of Force powers are being exchanged. She was in the middle of a battlefield, and now that she was done, her mind focused on what else was there.

Attention was drawn to the corner of the avenue, blasters and bullets carved into the stonework. Those attacking seemingly looked to be allies, but Quinn was prepared to turn on them if necessary. Instead, she chose to see what was behind the wall that had their attention.

She could feel the power of the crystals and the imbued powers in the staff as she exhaled. A hand guiding a thick crimson lightning bolt from the sky struck at the wall and the surrounding corner of the street. Quinn didn't care if others got in the way, whatever was there — she wanted it dead.

This is what they wanted…

 

[Brent Warnel]

BOOTS WITH THE FUR
TAG: Eira Dyn Iris Beroya ​

Brent had only walked a few steps when the comms crackled in his helmet.

“Alor Warnel, this is Bigbird 6-4 inbound to your last known for evac,” came the reply transmission from one of the Mandalorian shuttles. “Requesting top cover.”

He stopped as he replied, "We'll give you what cover we can, but it won't be much, vod, we're in a bad way. I'll keep this comm channel open for you. If I don't respond, link up with Devon Warnel, she'll coordinate the evac."

Brent continued his movement into the City; it never hurt to keep his Plan B still active. In case something happened, he wanted another way out for his people. But fate didn't have the same plan for him this time around. He hadn't walked more than a few meters before he heard another voice.

"Hello there, Mandalorian." Eira called out to her victim.

Brent stopped moving and sighed heavily as the darkly clad figure that stood in the alleyway addressed him. The being across from him was fresh, elegant, and her clothes were untouched by the recent weeks of combat. Red eyes glared out at him from some type of suit or armor that was nearly immaculate.

Brent, on the other hand, was anything but elegant. The paint that adorned his armor was worn away in several parts, the grey Beskar gleaming beneath what should have been green and gold hues. Carbon scoring marred his helmet and chest plate, and his purple cloak hung ripped and tattered halfway down his back.

He did not have time to engage another sycophant; he needed to get his people out. He sighed again inwardly; there was no getting past this, leaving this being here would endanger his people. Devon was more than capable of coordinating with the other Iron Covenant members and evacuating them. Brent's job was now here in front of him, warding off the enemies of his Clan.

"No time for small talk, friend, sorry," Brent said as his wrist snapped out, a net shooting out from the end of his arm and opening up like a giant hand toward the individual in front of him. As the net left his wrist, his legs pumped hard, propelling him toward a nearby doorway to take cover as he pulled out his pistols and fired haphazardly at the enemy to cover his movements.

 

[Astra Sadow]

Lysander von Ascania | Srina Talon | Garza | Darth Carnifex | Open​

The thoomb of gargantuan steps. The pulverization of duracrete and the shrieks of agony from durasteel pierced the air. Lightning roared and transparisteel shook. These symphonic notes were heard above the beat of blasters and the crescendo of atmospheric thrusters. Swells of intent and emotion that bathed the planet in destruction even those that thought to save it. The delicious irony of their neverending story.

But the irony was a pale reflection of the true beauty in that moment. So few took the time to bask in what their anger and rage and desperation had conjured. To truly listen to those subtle voices that gave the orchestration its unique timbre. The vast majority couldn't be blame for their oversight. Swept up in the heat of battle or frantic with a desire to end it, their ears were not truly open to what was around them. And the Jedi if they'd been there... oh, yes, they would know the notes were there, but not the subtle, sweet harmony that they provided.

Exquisite.

It was an experience that would never be repeated again if dark forces were allowed to do as they willed. The dead had music of their own, but it was not filled with the death rattles of those that clung to life against all odds, or the fire that burned in those refusing to submit. A dead world produced no more music the likes of which brought Astra the peace and communion she felt knelt in the middle of the alchemical array carved into the skin of the building beneath her.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Orders should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.​

Eyes closed, hands cradled in her lap, Astra muttered the words to those far and wide from the ritual site. What she had to say was for no creature that scurried near, but the countless people of Humbarine. Even if there were a soul standing beside her, they would hear the same whispered voice in their head as the masses; as the words that passed through her lips were in Sith, yet those heard across the field was of the listener's native tongue.

"Antai buti nie zyemus. Nie kizta. Ilsir tik sis kukas. Tu'iea natura ir kam j'us fasona iv zhol. Rajidona kia tave pjauti ir trunyti iv tave Jena'tes; lyteti le slona naudot ir girdeti tave forjdnamazi iv tave dujikri. Ax... galia arti kia tave zitkaga iv natura, tave shâsot kia kilti, tave lokfirgani iv irus anas aukoti lausk nuo rytojus. Nu galeji valia j'us kia luai. Nu galeji daboti j'us sulig ztaosena. Kam Nu gal dary-- edoui kuris vezra-- buti aukoti j'us tave fibitja kia luai. Kia shâsot. Kia kursas. Kia nulis. Amgavsi ir tave gesti valia zinot nie galia. Amgavsi ir ztalvasi valia xauti nie acasi. Amgavsi."

"There is no good. No evil. There is only this moment. Your life and what you make of it. Surrender to the torment and decay of the Darkness; feel its cold embrace and hear the howls of the damned. Or... hold fast to the warmth of life, the struggle to ascend, the flicker of light that gives hope for tomorrow. I cannot will you to live. I cannot protect you from harm. What I can do -- those who sign -- is give you the chance to live. To struggle. To yearn. To love. Accept and the rot will have no hold. Accept and despair will find no purchase. Accept."

This was far more heavy handed that she'd wanted to use on the spiritually broken people exploited by their betters, but under the circumstances it should work. Some would die, futilely and foolishly, believing resisting the 'temptation' was the 'righteous' thing to do. The rot would devour their mind and their flesh. Those around them would learn a harsh lesson, but how was that any of Astra's concern? Hard lessons were the way of Sith. They were the ones that stuck with you longest. They would remember she offered them the opportunity, the protection, and when this conflict was over... yes, they should be receptive to their long-term agenda.

Glareshades | Clothing | Jacket | Vest | Tie | Gauntlets | Belt | Boots | Broadsaber
Holdout Blaster | CommLink | Dagger​

 

[Eira Dyn]

Objective: 1 - Slaughter the Mandalorians
Armour: Marwolaeth Ddu
Armour Configuration: War
Equipment: Lethal Pursuers, Vibrosword
Tag: Brent Warnel

Eira dived under the net as it was fired at her. Moving fast as she activated the energy buckler shield from her vambrace, blocking the pistol bolts that were fired at her. She tilted her head to the side as she looked overly disappointed that this was the best that the Mandalorian thought he could do. But then again, he was fighting an impossible uphill battle. Their kind had never been success in the wars against Force Users. No matter how much they tried. "This is how you treat friends? I would be scared of seeing how you treat enemies if I thought there was a threat." Eira spoke in a calm tone, she moved forward.

"There is no evacuating this time Mandalorian." Eira growled as sparks of Force Lightning shot from her fingertips onto the ground and walls surrounding them. Breathing in deeper, Eira felt the power surging through her body more. "This time you face the consequences of your ridiculous attempts striking us." Calming the excited lightning, Eira activated the whistling birds on her vambrace. Curious to see how the Mandalorian handled their own tools being used against them.

The dozen explosive darts shot out and honed in on Brent. "The bounty on your kind was for alive, but harvesting your beskar shall be more than profitable enough for me." Eira smirked as she waited for the darts to try and find their target before she made her move. The Sith was best skilled for closer quarters combat, something that the Mandalorian might attempt to avoid. It would be curious to see how he handled himself against someone hellbent on one thing. The utter destruction of him. "Unless you wish to surrender to your superiors and spill whatever knowledge you have on this foolish insignificant resistance you have formed."

While Eira was all too keen on just utterly breaking the man. There had to be some attempt to just imprison the man for the Sith Covenant. Though she doubted one like this would just surrender. The Mandalorians were stubborn people and it was not easy to persuade one to switch sides. Especially when Eira wasn't really trying to persuade him to surrender. Pulling out her daggers, Eira twirled them expertly in her hands as she started her approach to Brent. Calm, calculated steps as she moved.

A relentless predator teasing her prey.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

He moved right after Acier pushed, keeping the line going, forcing the enemy back. Blaster bolts spat sparks from walls around them as the scent of hot metal filled the air.

Orders were barked from the enemy squadron as they pushed forward. The sounds of desperation filling the air as they both drew nearer.

The superheated smoke that billowed from his back exploded with lively animation, unfurling like tendrils that burst forward towards a group that were setting up a heavy turret on the other end.

The tendrils wrapped around the barrel, warping the alignment and traveling down to the power cores of the weapons. One by one explosions followed as the assault continued.

Varin drew his Black Blade swiping with precise feral strikes towards the crew ahead of them. The blade hacked through a couple men, but the telekinetic blast carved through more.

Arris’ voice lit up his comms as he worked his way through the bodies.

<It will be done.>

He responded to her, then his hand reached towards the squadron who were picking themselves up, dazed and confused from the explosions.

Their bodies lifted, unable to move. With a simple flex of his fist their bones cracked, broke and warped into various broken shapes. Then their crumpled bodies fell in piles of crushed meat and bone.

Some started to crawl away, only to be enveloped by the pyroclastic flow that came from his back. Their screams cut short from suffocating soot and ash.

The focus of the fight was all that he had. But that boiling in his blood soon amplified. The Force surged through his body like a rush of adrenaline.

He charged forward with a bellowing roar as bolts ricocheted off his armor. Some seeming to pierce through the small windows of exposure between the plates. He no longer felt pain, his body mended the wounds. He absorbed the fear and anger all around him.

A thermal detonator was thrown at him in a desperate attempt, but at the last second his hand raised catching the object with an unseen force. The explosion followed, but remained condensed as he forced the flames and kinetic energy within itself.

Acier Moonbound | Tamsin Starfall | Lily Rhodes | Arris Windrun | Vess Sadragen​

 

[Iris Beroya]

STRILL 6 - SKIES ON FIRE
ATMOSPHERE | HUMBARINE
GOAL: Close Air Support
TAG: Brent Warnel
GEAR: Jai'Galaar Starfighter

My Vod Push Forward​

He stopped as he replied, "We'll give you what cover we can, but it won't be much, vod, we're in a bad way. I'll keep this comm channel open for you. If I don't respond, link up with Devon Warnel, she'll coordinate the evac."

"Copy that, Alor. Hold fast. We're coming."

Iris and the rest of Strill Squadron moved in formation around the inbound LAAT/i gunship. She targeted an AA emplacement on top of a tower and depressed the trigger. Her Jai'galaar belched hate from its laser cannons, lancets of searing red peppering turning metal to slag and bursting duracrete. She pulled up from the strafing run and rolled left.

The others in Strill were all doing variations of the same, taking out emplacements and encroaching ground forces left and right to help secure the area for Bigbird 6-4.

Iris glanced out her canopy and saw the LAAT/i moving to hover low over the coordinates near street level. She saw the bright green lines of composite particle beams from their bubble turrets raking the streets, trying to suppress the enemy. But they couldn't sit their long.

"Bigbird 6-4 to Clan Warnel, we are on location. Load up wounded first."

That's about when she caught sight of the LAAT/i's nose art. She rolled her eyes. Someone had painted a garish, blue Twi'lek wearing hardly anything at all posed provocatively on Bigbird 6-4's nose.

"Nice."

They were sent here, deep behind the Sith's lines, on a stealth mission. The odds of retrieval if the iron fist of the Sith clenched down on this planet were slim. On top of that, instead of dying a warriors death at the hands of their enemy, many of his Clan were now dying from lack of medication, wasting away in their armor. Brent hung his head, realizing he did not know what to do. What hope could he give? What plan could he come up with?

Iris caught only another glimpse as she passed low overhead, barely able to make out the small figures moving toward the LAAT/i's open ramp and side doors in the dusk created by the eclipse. She could not see the state of them, but from how their Alor sounded... it was bad.

Somewhere in the city, even through her canopy and the hum of her ion engines, Iris heard an awful cacophonous noise.

The structure groaned as invisible pressure descended upon it from every direction at once. Walls folded inward. Support columns shattered. Entire floors collapsed into themselves. The building disappeared beneath a storm of debris and darkness as its foundations failed catastrophically.

AWACS Watcher
«Watcher here, all squadrons and ground forces be on alert. There is a second Titan-class lifeform destroying the city.»​

"What the-" said Strill 5.

"No way," muttered Strill 3.

"Focus up, Strill," Kelborn's voice was hard but calm across the squadron channel, "Don't worry about the beasts. If Mythos wants us to take them out we will, but until then we sharpen up and we karking thank them for the havoc they're causing. It's a distraction that will help us get our people out of here. Understood?"

A chorus of oyas followed.

Iris frowned and looked out her canopy again. Why would the imperials be loosing giant monsters on their own city? And if it was not the imperials, then was there another entity involved somewhere out there in the shadows, helping them get their people back? And if so... why?

Too many questions. Iris shook her head. There would be time to debrief later.

"Bigbird 6-4, Clan Warnel is loaded up. We are RTB."

"Where is the Alor?"

"Went on ahead. No time. There are manda who will die if we idle here. We will send a second gunship for him."

The LAAT/i lifted off the ground and began climbing rapidly, moving toward the Mythos Fleet in orbit. Strill Squadron went with them, ready to take out whatever the imperials of Humbarine could throw.

Iris looked back toward the city below. Somewhere in those buildings, she knew Alor Warnel was fighting for his life.

Suddenly...

Thick bolts of crimson lighting surged through the sky as monstrous claps of thunder shook the skies above.

AWACS Watcher
«Watcher here, all squadrons be advised, unnatural weather activity continues. A class three storm is approaching the city and we expect it to be upgraded to a class four when it hits.»
​

Iris' eyes flared wide as the storm rolled in, the already dark skies occluded with thick clouds now and crimson tendrils of unnatural lightning. The pilot's hand tightened on the joystick as she remembered Coruscant. Remembered dogfighting through skies that looked just like these.

The Sith called it a Force Storm.

Oh...

Oh no.

"AWACS Watcher, this is Strill 6. I've seen this before. This is a Force Storm."

AWACS Watcher
«Watcher here, confirm your last.»
​

"It's a Force Storm," Iris snapped, annoyance and an unnatural fear bleeding through her. Why did she feel this pressure. This anxiety? It was not like her. "There are Sith on Humbarine."

Imperial Inquisitors did not conjure storms of pure Dark Side energy out of thin air.

Imperial Inquisitors did not drop enormous titanic beasts to level entire cities.

Sith did.

A pause from AWACS, then...

AWACS Watcher
«Watcher to Mythos Fleet, there is a Force Storm over the city. There are Sith on Humbarine. I repeat, there are Sith on Humbarine.»​

 

[Meliant]

Attn: Eurydice

And just like that, his ride pulled up, and who should be at the helm but…​

​

"Stumpy!" Meliant clapped his hands in delight, and gave her a few uncannily cheery pats on the top of the head. It was like someone who had never pet a dog before in their life was attempting to do so now. "I thought you were feeding worms on Chandaar." ​

​

Nothing balmed the soul like remembering there were creatures lower, weaker, and more helpless than you. Meliant roughly and unpleasantly tousled her hair. Bullying was always effortless on his part. ​

​

Explosions racked the city and forced the earth to shudder, but no strafing runs had been made on the spaceport yet. Still, his soldiers were working double-time to load the loot. Except the Night Legionaries, a dozen of whom were circling around him now…​

​

"The complex is under attack. We've been cut off." He flicked a stray piece of debris off his shoulder. "The boys and I need to make a detour."​

———​

Although the ride was noisy, punctuated as it was by the sounds of distant warfare and emergency klaxons, the inside of the armored speeder was deathly quiet. And cramped. The Night Legionaries who cared to do so were checking their weapons. Some muttered softly to themselves. Meliant sat across from Eurydice.​

​

Something started crawling out of one of the eye-holes in his mask.​

​

It looked like someone had cut a strand of deep shadow and made it tangible. It wriggled and convulsed like a dying worm. Eventually, he plucked it out with a thumb and forefinger, and gave it to Eurydice. It kept moving.​

​

"Hold onto that," he said gravely, and did not elaborate even a tiny bit.​

———​

They came to a modest (for Humbarine) military depot which stored exactly three HAVw A909 Juggernauts. That is to say: massive wheeled vehicles (of the latest model) which bristled with weaponry. The platoons to whom these vehicles belonged were readying themselves for deployment to some other beleaguered part of the city until Meliant and his retinue arrived.​

​

"I'm in charge now, these are coming with me."​

​

The ranking officer knew wisely not to argue with ghosts in armor that do magic and bowed his head obligingly. "We are at your disposal, my lord. What are your orders?"​

​

Meliant told him.​

​

The ranking officer blanched and reached instinctively to loosen his collar, but rigid Imperial-with-a-capital-I discipline stopped him. "Sir, there is a security wall directly..."​

​

He trailed off, as Meliant had taken both of his golden hands and lightly clasped the ranking officer on either side of his head, drawing him just a tiny bit closer.​

​

"I'm in charge now," he repeated, "And I don't care."​

———​

"You're in charge now," Meliant told Eurydice while the juggernauts revved up. The Night Legionaries embedded themselves among the regular Humbariners, prompting shudders and worrisome looks. "I'm going to kill the people outside the complex until they fuck off. You go to the command center and stand-in for me until I'm finished."​

​

The way he spoke sounded like he was working his way towards a punchline, but he was perfectly serious. Meliant did not want to spend another big invasion inside of a fortress telling other people what to do. That was the purview of nerds, and luckily he had this really funny one on deck.​

​

Meliant removed his glorious red cloak and tossed it to the ranking officer, who very shrewdly caught it - and then folded it neatly! Now there's service.​

​

"If you're not sure what to do, just hold That Thing I gave you to your ear and ask," he made the OK-hand, as if holding something small between the fingers, and held it up to where an ear would be on his mask. "Like this."​

———​

Attn: Carduul Akahl The Arkanian Isobel Serraris

Many of Humbarine's districts are cordoned off by a security wall. These are not much good for anything except restricting the movement of citizens, which any self-respecting Imperial administration is obviously keen on doing.​

​

During a battle, they mainly served as a military impediment to the unimaginative, serving as a false obstacle on what armored response could come from where. An Imperial HAVw A909 Juggernaut, for instance, can smash straight through a standard-built security wall.​

​

And one of them did, with a dramatic, thundering crash. Two more followed from the breech, and they barreled apocalyptically into the fortified position the Mandalorians were attempting to secure - at an angle no Imperial would have conceived to take. One came straight down the middle of their grouping, with one more against either of their flanks. The slow would be crushed under the pitiless wheels, and those who survived would live only to deal with the avalanche of rockets and laser cannons shed from those iron giants. ​

​

Then, of course, the side hatches opened, and out launched some hundreds of war-screaming stormtroopers, whipped into bloody frenzy by the Night Legionaries.​

​

Too many people were circumspect with Mandalorians. They didn't want to get close for fear of death, but then they died hiding anyway. It was better, Meliant reasoned, to get right in their faces and visit upon them the same shock-and-awe. They needed to be overrun before they got their bearings - before they could push on to more important things. In time, more would pour into this thrust to maintain momentum.​

​

But for now: the Golden Emperor emerged from the centermost Juggernaut, landing nimbly on upturned street and wreckage. He took up a beskar spear left behind by a road-killed Mandalorian, and flung it like a javelin through another. It pinned them cleanly to a duracrete wall, where they were left to despair and die.​

"Where is your field marshal?" Meliant yelled mockingly over the din, wading deeper into the violence to find such a person, "Bring me someone worth killing!"​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

BELLY OF THE BEAST​

LOCATION — Humbarine, Landing Zone
TAGS — Allies: Meliant // Opposition: The Arkanian
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost and Vesper et Aurora.

The instruments of peace were drowned out by the thunderous cacophony of war; it crowded one's mind, filled their senses with its brutality until there was naught more than the desire. . . that vexingly sweet desire to be a part of its horde, to lose one's autonomy to this calling within her--to accept this blight within her.

Though reason battled it vehemently, suppressing this needless craze and clearing the fog of war unto her mind, there was only the clarity of mind that may carry her throughout this duel. Not passion, not needless surrenders to rage, nor the crushing fear that often held her in a chokehold. Only control.

Like a sea parted, the Mandalorians were separated at the hand of the burning wreckage, whilst most had withdrawn toward the Command Centre, only two silhouettes remained. A Mandalorian, and its reptilian companion. Something. . . Felt odd about this creature, distorting her connection to the Force when she sought to gauge the intentions from the helmeted warrior. It was neither the bloom nor the rot, it was. . . nothing, an absence of the living Force altogether.

What lacked absence was the bright light of an object darting toward her, her right hand drew up and painted a translucent dome around her presence--invisible to the unknowing eye, though easily absorbed the damages inflicted by the concussion round. Its shield persisting for a time, as if anticipating a second round of fury from her foe.

Before an unseen force tore it apart in an instant, as the reptilian beast landed right beside her--sending a shockwave that pushed the Sith back by numerous metres. Isobel had no time to spare to soften her landing and landed against one of the remaining spaceships, the back of her head striking the metal with an agonising thud. There was nothingness, no hand of the Force to guide her, naught more than the excruciating ache on the back of her head, and the blurred vision that flitted between a blinding light and an invasive darkness. . .

Words left her lips, incoherent and breathless. Her breathing wilted and grew shallow, whilst her gaze refused to focus, refused to remain open for longer than a second. Her ears rang with countless cacophonies and her mind felt empty for the first time in her life--no longer burdened by visions nor the fear of losing those near here. Empty as a garden amid a frigid winter. Her hand hesitantly found the back of her head, tangling in her braids curls, only to uncover the crimson pooling across her fingers.

Danger still lurked nearby, a dominating thought that knew no mercy nor remorse. If the Mandalorian pursued. . . then she would die, and death had not been destined to claim her yet. Isobel sought to sit upright, making out the distant shouting and the rumble of tanks approaching the landing zone. Whether it was the stupor summoned by the concussion or genuine delight, a weak chuckle escaped her lips as she attempted to wish away the agony holding her in a wicked chokehold.

In time, the Force welcomed her back into its loving arms and she was able to weave its life through her system, replenishing her with newfound energy if only at the cost of what remained of her health. Bel spat the blood from her mouth onto the ground before sliding back down, reclaiming her twin lightsabers as red and gold ignited in perfect unison. "I have no quarrel with your beast. If you seek my death, then at least claim it yourself." The crimson shoto gestured toward the beast, one she prayed would be released from its mortal shackles by the Covenant's tanks.

A vile rush of hatred surged through her, intensified by her agony as it sought to slip through the fractures of her composure. She bit it down, wishing not to indulge this cruelty, and attempted to hurl the stranger backward through the Force--to no avail. There was naught to seize, naught to impact.

Another pulse of pain rang through her skull, turning the world into a haze of crimson and ash. Time slipped through her grasp with every painful heartbeat, and so she desperately called upon the Force, tearing apart a jagged piece of the bloodied metal from the wreckage, before hurling it toward the Mandalorian.

---

Action summary. . . With the assistance of a Force Barrier, Isobel could absorb the damage of the first concussion round. It fractured once more as the Oggmiri at last neared her close proximity, sending the Acolyte back into a wreckage (inflicting a head trauma). Once 'recovered', if only temporarily at the hands of Force Body, she engaged The Arkanian once more--hurling a piece of metal toward him.

​

 

[Emissary of Strife]

NPC RESPONSE: Iris Beroya | OPEN
Force Hydra
Previous Posts: 1 |
​

From the control bunker, operators analyzed the battlespace, feeding telemetry to their starfighters. A ping swept across the Baron's command console.

"Ah. What a shame," he switched to private channels with Zim. "I will handle this."

There was wheezing on the other end. "Handle it?" Null leader cackled and coughed. "Oh, very well... Their landing ships make meatier targets anyway," the channel clicked in disconnection.

The Baron glanced outside the glass at the creep of darkness. An eclipse? He switched his visor to low-light vision.

Rancor squadron broke away, making a direct path towards the enemy groups that had now entered the fray. However, the Baron himself kept his eyes fixed for a dance... observing the IFF feed, watching shapes dance on the viewscreen, until one stood out.

"There you are."

His TIE Avenger peeled away from the others, climbing up before descending at a gradual, corkscrew curve, increasing his burn steadily as he did until he found himself angled on a direct path towards the enemy's flank. Then, he opened fire, letting rip a volley of the Avenger's wing-mounted lasers. He always shot to kill, but Donnic really did hope it wasn't that easy.

NPC RESPONSE: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Romul Saxon | OPEN
MENTIONED: Seris Velmora
Humbarine Defense Fleet​

Vice Admiral Glacier lazed in his command chair aboard the Serrated Claw, which formed the center of the HDF's Heavy Battle Squadron.

He let out a long, frustrated sigh. "Idiot!" He cursed as the Spirit Breaker, which now crumbled towards the atmosphere. At least the captain wasn't a coward, he thought, as the readout showed a sudden spike in the star destroyer's reactor temperature.

"Give me interdiction," he commanded, then opened a channel to the rest of his fleet. "All squadrons, the enemy is moving to assault our platforms and the staryard. I will not make my orders any clearer: Stay in formation, and follow the battle plan. Break ranks and I will fire upon you myself." End communication.

Moments later, a pair of interdictors, tucked behind a trio of star destroyers, activated their gravity well generators. Any approaching or departing vessels without specific countermeasures would be pulled out of hyperspace. However, occasionally the generators were deactivated in pulses to allow the escape of their civilian and commercial vessels. There was also a brief cool-down period between these pulses, of several minutes, before the generators could be reactivated.

Fast frigates moved ahead first, grouped into small squadrons - their job was to wedge between the enemy formations, creating gaps and disrupting the pace of their engagement. Although this was always considered a high-risk affair for the smaller warships, ignoring them would be a peril unto itself. Following them were two forces of gladiators, firing volleys of assault concussion missiles to force the enemy hand: direct point-defense on the capital-cracking warheads, or concentrate on the swarm of fast-moving fighters that moved to intercept the war droids.

Elsewhere in the battlespace, a scatter of defensive satellites, spread all around, began flooding telemetry with noise. The HDF had already developed filters to protect its instruments, though not to perfect effect. At most, it slightly reduced the accuracy of their own EW suites. For the enemy, however, it would take time to sift through the array of radioactive noise, junk data, and other disruptive frequencies. Until countered, it would be very difficult for the enemy to know if they were jamming legitimate signals or just... noise.

Seris Velmora
A message was sent: <"The Spirit Breaker will self-destruct in approximately fifteen minutes. We believe the enemy has plans to seize intelligence located within the data store room. Erase it before the intel is compromised, then evacuate the ship, or you will go down with it."> End signal.

Spoiler: Action Summary

OBJ1:

• Rancor Squadron is engaging Mandalorian fighters.
• Baron Donnic is engaging Iris Beroya
• Null Squadron is intercepting enemy dropships and transports.

OBJ2:

• Heavy groups are holding positions to defend the orbital platforms and facilities.
• Gravity wells are active. However, they are being recycled in pulses to create gaps (several minutes at a time) where ships can jump to hyperspace. These pulses are randomized, so the HDF can coordinate commercial evacuations without creating a predictable vector for the enemy to know exactly when these pulses will occur.
• Fast frigates are moving forward to create wedges in the enemy assault formations.
• Gladiator-class destroyers are firing assault concussion missiles at enemy capitals to draw enemy point-defense fire.
• TIE Fighters (Interceptors and Predators) are moving to intercept Basilisk droids.
• False data/noise is being emitted from decentralized pockets of defense satellites (established here). They work to mitigate enemy jamming by obfuscating real signals from false ones.

Thank you for your patience! TSC is not a faction of fleeters and dogfighters, so I'm all you've got But I plan to keep it interesting. There's a decent chance I might miss some actions, as I have a lot to read through and respond to here. @Me in the OOC in that case, and I will do my best to respond.

​

 

[The Arkanian]

THE ARKANIAN
LANDING ZONE NEAR COMMAND CENTER | HUMBARINE
TAG: Isobel Serraris
GEAR: See Bio

And one of them did, with a dramatic, thundering crash. Two more followed from the breech, and they barreled apocalyptically into the fortified position the Mandalorians were attempting to secure - at an angle no Imperial would have conceived to take.

Nothing like three Juggernaut armored personnel carriers and wheels the size of houses blowing through a security wall to grab the attention.

The screaming and noise behind the Arkanian caused him to glance back long enough to see Ori'ramikade getting bulldozed by a HAVw A6 like they were in the middle of a Raxus Prime monster truck rally.

"Are you jok- ungh."

Time slipped through her grasp with every painful heartbeat, and so she desperately called upon the Force, tearing apart a jagged piece of the bloodied metal from the wreckage, before hurling it toward the Mandalorian.

A chunk of twisted metal slammed into the Arkanian's beskar chest plate, knocking him on his ass despite his gravity skates. His feet floated ridiculously off the ground still, leaving him in an incredibly awkward position for a beat.

"I have no quarrel with your beast. If you seek my death, then at least claim it yourself."

Oh come on.

He punched a button on his wrist, deactivating the repulsor skates, and crunched every ab in his torso to get back to standing in his heavy beskar. The Arkanian eyed the woman in front of him, the Hifold Sensory Package modifying his ocular sockets working overtime to take in every bit of her body language. She was not tall and though she wore armor, she looked slight and lean. Soft brown curls tumbled from her head and her eyes might be a warm and kind umber in any other situation, but right now they shone fierce and determined as hardwood. The way she spoke and carried herself screamed nobility.

The Arkanian did not know any inquisitors who wore that kind of armor, spoke like an aristocrat, and carried paired lightsabers whose hilts could probably be sold to buy a condo on Naboo.

"Lady, you threw a star freighter at both of us," the Arkanian raised his rifle and started marching toward her, shooting more concussion bursts at her as he spoke.

"Rather bring you in alive, personally."

BLAM.

"But you're in the way."

BLAM. BLAM.

The Arkanian sought to close the distance, pushing her toward a wall that should pen her in while Terror prowled forward from her right.

Music​

 

[Riffraff Ranat]

Tags: Efret Farr & Casimir Thorne

Realization dawned and the ranat felt like an absolute nerf herder. Of course. She knew the woman was hearing impaired, had been told and had done a bit of background research on the otherwise mysterious addition to the Covenant. Riffraff adjusted the tool bag into the crook of her elbow to free both hands as they neared their destination.

Damned hangover, she thought to herself.

"Don't worry," she added, flashing another smile. "I know universities like the back of my hand."

"Not a problem. We can pivot. What's happening?"

Wincing, the ranat replied back in GBSL while also mouthing the words. She hated how obvious her discomfort with being in the institution was but doubted the reason was quite so clear. Few souls outside her direct family knew she was a glorified lab experiment.

"Chit, sorry 'bout that. Had my mind on too many things. Right, we've got bucket-heads incoming," she signed, hand spelling out the phrases she didn't know to stay true to her speech pattern.

Hoisting her toolbox onto her hip, she continued and clearly gained confidence when they stepped into the Broadcasting Room.

"Misdirection is going to be very stilted now, and with some of the transponders I placed in pockets last night we should have a steady stream of real-time data to reference."

Finding a suitable workstation near enough to main control panels and soundboard, Riffraff hooked a rolling chair with her foot and nimbly leapt into it with a grunt. Slinging her toolbox up onto a suitably clear area, she began pulling all manner of technological equipment from the bag. It looked like a slicer's personal treasure trove.

The purple furball grinned up at her companion, sharp white fangs and orange eyes gleaming with mischief. She took a short break to sign again.

"Time for your debut then, eh? You'll find a flow — take a look at current reports coming in and let's identify the enemy communications to scramble and which evacuees to rile up."

Then with a motion, she cast a holoprojector onto a clear table which gave a display of current known hotspots of aggressor activity. Thanks to Riff's cantina run and underground speakeasy frolic, she'd managed to sleight of hand over 40 tiny transmitter/ receiver devices of her own creation. All of which scalped nearby data from any device that wasn't double encrypted against such skimming, and they were all sending the data back to her personal datapad.

It wasn't perfect and there would inevitably be dark spots on her "techno map" but it was a damn sight better than taking a swing in the dark. As her map populated data onto the holoprojection, Riffraff turned back to her work of slicing into the academy broadcast system and boosting it for her own nefarious purposes.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Feydrik Munin
​

A Beskad collided with the dagger, the impact shuddering up his arm. The blade vibrated violently in his grip from the Mandalorian's strength. Interesting when you felt it in a single clash. More than brute force, but technique and discipline; perhaps that of a lifetime dedicated to violence as a deadly art.

Above, the Force storm roared, a malevolent breath that twisted sound into ghostly howls and warped light into distortions; the battlefield was becoming a living nightmare. And beneath it, something else. Beneath that tempest, some unseen weight pressed.. a phobis device clawing at perception, surely a familiar thorn from clashes beneath Sith banners. It gnawed at the edges of consciousness, a dull thunder behind the Sangnir's eyelids.

The dagger slipped away, vanishing from thought, clattering against the ground. Fingers ghosted toward the other weapon upon his hip; pale and swift, it was a blur born of the buried abyss and endless nights. Before the Mandalorian's last words could choke the air between them, a thumb slammed the emitter.

Kasir's gaze remained locked upon the cruel T‑visor; this next display was for the Mandalorian's eyes alone. The saberstaff burst to crimson, searing plasma flaring at both ends, casting the ruined streets of Humbarine in a bloody glow. At first, there was no shift in stance; he existed with the weapon like it'd grown from his spine. With a sinuous stride, the saberstaff swept, a horizontal slash carving through the air, the glowing blade a scythe of wrath. Searing plasma finally met beskar; sparks exploded like stars. The heated edge clawed at the visor, melting and twisting it, leaving behind a hellish streak.

 

[Iris Beroya]

STRILL 6 - SKIES ON FIRE
ATMOSPHERE | HUMBARINE
GOAL: Close Air Support
TAG: Emissary of Strife
GEAR: Jai'Galaar Starfighter

Music
​

"There you are."

His TIE Avenger peeled away from the others, climbing up before descending at a gradual, corkscrew curve, increasing his burn steadily as he did until he found himself angled on a direct path towards the enemy's flank. Then, he opened fire, letting rip a volley of the Avenger's wing-mounted lasers. He always shot to kill, but Donnic really did hope it wasn't that easy.

AWACS Watcher
«Strill-....Chhhhhhhhh bandit breaking-..... chhhhhhh.... Storm interference.»​

Strill Squadron and Bigbird 6-4 were still in a near vertical climb as they made to return the wounded to Mythos Fleet.

"They must be below the storm ceiling - at this altitude it's between us and them," said Apex.

"What were they-" Strill 5 started to say before being cut off by Dax.

"Eyes up, lone bandit rolling in."

The shuttle, Iris immediately thought, knowing that the juicy gunship packed full of the Mandalorians they had been sent to recover, indeed the entire objective of this assault, posed an almost irresistable target.

But no.

It didn't.

Alarms blared inside Iris' cockpit. "What?!"

"Strill 6, bandit's coming right for you."

"Me? Not Bigbird?" Then laser cannon fire flashed by meters from her starfighter's canopy causing Ar Nine to scream in alarm. Iris immediately began basic fighter maneuvers, breaking from the formation and going into a dive to gain airspeed. "Nevermind. I will keep him busy."

If the lone pilot wanted to play dogfight while the rest of Strill accomplished the mission, so be it.

"Don't worry 6, I've got him," said Strill 5, the kid, before opening up with his own laser cannons on the TIE Avenger.

Iris continued her dive toward the looming clouds, streaked with crimson lightning below.

"I'll lose him in the storm. Don't follow."

It would only be her second time dogfighting in a Force Storm, after all.

Apparently unpursued, the four remaining Strill fighters and the LAAT/i gunship crammed full of Clan Warnel mandalorians broke through atmosphere and made for the nearest Mandalorian ship's hangars.

"We'll circle back for you two," said Dax.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, fingers sweaty on the yoke and breathing ragged.

AMIDST THE BLUE SKIES, A LINK FROM THE PAST TO THE FUTURE.
THE SHELTERING WINGS OF THE PROTECTOR
This is an NPC Story
Emissary of Strife | Seva Beroya

///...loading
...
..
.
[[ HUMBARINE: ATMOSPHERE ]]
[[ MISSION RESUME ]]
TIME ELAPSED 00:04:45
PTS 001859
TGT GND-AA

STARFANG WING:
Ghest Squadron | Svaper Squadron | Darkwolf 1 & 2


Ghest 6
«He's on my tail! I can't shake him!»

Svaper 3
«Evade Ghest 6!»

Ghest 4
«Missile lock. That's it! Fox two, fox two!»

Darkwolf 1
«Darkwolf 1, unleashing hell.»​

Ghest and Svaper squadrons, supported by the two basilisks from Darkwolf, tore into the enemy starfighters like a pack of rabid vornskrs. They might have been outnumbered two to one, but their starfighters were faster, more heavily armed, and - most important of all - they had the beskar armored basilisks causing absolute carnage.

AWACS Watcher
«Watcher here, be advised low ceilings due to Force Storm. Do not enter the storm. Repeat, do not enter.»

Ghest Lead
«Copy, watcher. Pilots descend to 400 meters.»

Svaper 3
«400? We'll be scraping the ground.»

Ghest 2
«Watch out for those towers.»

Darkwolf 2
«Getting real tired of those titans.»

Ghest 4
«I'll paint 'em.»
​

Ghest 4 painted Garza with a targeting beam.

Ghest 4
«Watcher this is Ghest 4, requesting orbital strike one round, heavy turbolaser on my target.»

AWACS Watcher
«Acknowledged. Relaying.»​

 

[Lily Rhodes]

TAGS: Vess Sadragen Arris Windrun Acier Moonbound Varin Mortifer Tamsin Starfall Quinn Varanin

Arris’s irritated reply was almost drowned out by the onslaught of blaster fire, something small came flying her way, Lily’s gaze flicked to it and she let out a snort. Arris had actually thrown a wire at her. The brief amusement was swallowed as another round of fire hammered into the wall beside her making her draw back further into the already cramped alcove.

Lily closed her eyes and opened her mind, lowering the barriers as Vess called out the mainframes location, she reached through the building, marking minds in their path, it would be a fight to get there, but Vess had a foot in the door which already swung things in their favour.

“Got it.” More minds were moving, violent in their intent. The groan of the blast doors brought her back to her immediate presence, her hand closed around Vess’s and Lily folded the force around them. They teleported, appearing ahead of Arris and her purge trooper.

Lily turned, releasing Vess’s hand. “Keep moving, I’m right behind you.”

Her hands moved to the small of her back pulling her batons free, they extended with a snap and a faint hum as she stepped in behind the purge trooper, one baton reached for the floor, hooking Arris’s gun a flinging it up towards her, while the other she jammed in the back of its neck between the helmet and the back plate. The trooper went rigid trembling as his muscles seized before Lily retracted it and he dropped.

“There’s at least eight more on the way and-”

Lily didn’t finish her sentence as she felt something beyond the reach of the armoury, a suffocating darkness that pressed against the minds of Humbarine. Sith, Mandalorian and civilians alike. Fear spread like wildfire, amplifying the noise of their minds from a distant hum to an unbearable noise that pressed against her skull before she had time to brace.

Batons clattered as they hit the floor, Lily’s hand closed over her skull as she crumpled, screaming.