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

[Astra Sadow]

Eurydice | Madrona A’Mia
​

You don't know me, but I know you.

I watched you while you marched through the streets. I heard you as you imposed your decrees upon the masses. I felt the people as they trembled before your might. And I tasted the rage when none of it mattered.

I was always there. Beside you. To catch you when you stumbled. To provide when you were in need. We exist together, you understand. Parts of a whole no one can perceive. No one appreciates. A great work born of the ages. An Eternal purpose. Your purpose.

Now it is time for you to go. You're no longer the instrument of change you once were. Not what you were meant to be. The lightning rod stabbed into the heart of the Galaxy is gone now. Those bold and brave and unrepentant leaders absent. Your local commander a pale figment of that strength that once kept you awake at night dreaming dreams made manifest. A warlord. Simple. Small. Puppeteering a Governor swept away as one might a mote on an otherwise pristine uniform. A smudge on the tip of your polished boot.

I don't pity you. I'm not here to save you. But I can give you a choice. Cull the weak among you. Do this, and those that live may find a new place. To become part of a different facet of this great and endless mission to reshape the galaxy. To build better worlds full of passion and order.

Does my alchemy not shield you from the horrors of the dark that falls across the flesh of this world? Have you not hear the howls of the damned above? Of your own that fell victim to weakness because they did not see the opportunity offered them then? Do you see new opportunity laid before you now?

I'll be there soon. Among you. Do what you must. You know it in your heart it must be done. Excise those that led you here, to these dark places never again to bask in glory. And then I will lead you to the surface. To the stars. To rebuild Humbarine into something glorious. Realize your dreams.

Or die in the dark, alone, forgotten. Bodies never recovered. Loved ones never satisfied knowing what befell you. A life lived and ended without reason.

I am coming.

Astra smirked as she strode down the underground passageways built into the city. Detachment Three had punched down into the crypts and made time encircling the Undercity that Lysander von Ascania had targeted for cleansing. What Anet Raine did in the central command, and Riffraff Ranat did in the ears of the people, Astra and the Legion would do to those below. Morsels that Garza might have enjoyed sampling. Broken souls with stories of their own from a bygone dominion.

Lily Rhodes 's considerate efforts to bind them together skipped over the chaff, of course. A taxing effort to bridge such gaps. The fewer discordant voices the better. Which left Astra free to send a telepathic broadcast of her own to the Imperials and Criminals that hadn't been forward-thinking enough to join Astra's plot already. People that huddled in the dark to escape the maw of the abyss that hovered overhead.

That magnanimous effort, however, did allow Astra to step into the moment. Then help us liberate it. An image of a bunker was projected toward Tamsin Starfall 's mind. A place where people could be kept safe. Humbarine had prepared for an assault, but the Sith Covenant had taken out the leadership before they could organize their defenses. The best laid plans and all that. Now, places of safety could be turned to their purpose and not merely to ensure the survival of the corrupted fools and their minions.

Much like the alchemical offer extended to the citizens of this besieged realm, Astra didn't care whether anyone else ferried people to safety or the criteria they used to decide who lived and who died. With all the destruction above, she'd settle with people doing their best -- in whatever way they saw it -- and dealing with organizing something meaningful once things settled. The long game.

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

 

[Vesper Thrace]

MOTHER MERCY
[THE VIBES? IMMACULATE]​

Vesper had limited time to bask in Tavi's confidence and delight. The Bro'kur-class Heavy Assault Cruiser loomed ever-larger as the Mother Mercy continued to gather speed. She activated the general alarm and called into the channel: "Brace, brace, brace!" She took her own advice, clutching the railing of the command pedestal with both hands, bracing herself against the impact that came. She needn't have been overly concerned; the sharp prow went through the Tal'galar like a hot knife through butter.

A cheer went up that Vesper could almost feel through the deckplates, even though it was surely just the vibration of the wreckage of that sad little ship brushing past. "Captain!" called Banderos across the cheer of the command station. "They're scrambling fighters!"

"I see them," Vesper answered, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Task our armaments to defend where possible. And charge the Solar Cannon." She half-turned to Tavi. "Never say I don't let you have any fun. You can point the big gun, and when it's ready? Fire at will."

"Should we scramble our fighters?" Banderos asked.

"No," Vesper said. "Keep them in reserve. I trust our armor and other defenses. But put the pilots on standby for the time being."

"Affirmative. Captain, gravatic anomaly detected. Centered -- here." A Har'rangir-class Star Destroyer with a name that was an exemplar of characteristically Mandalorian faux grandeur: Gra'tua Dral Their native tongue was like taking a superheated cheese grater to one's ears. Wankers.

"Then we have our next target."

"Frontal assault?" Banderos demanded.

"No holes barred, Banderos. Get a trajectory on ramming while you're at it. They can take it from the front, from the rear, sitting, standing, or in a semi-recumbent position for all I care, depending on how we can get there. Get me solutions -- now! I'll bet that thing is plated in every kind of unobtanium, impervium, fuckoffium known to mankind. Let's see how they do against the laws of physics. Mass and acceleration have killed more vehicles than a thousand shipyards ever created. I like our odds. And just to make it interesting... retask the Raiders. Tell them..." Vesper smirked and leaned forward, elbows coming to a rest on the command pedestal railing as she watched the battle unfurl on the command table. "...tell them finders keepers. Who takes that ship keeps it."

The Captain kept that posture, almost relaxed, a light in her dark eyes. There was nothing quite like the thrill of the hunt.

"Engineering, factor that gravity into our firing and trajectory solutions. Make these alleged men regret bringing cowardly little gadgets to a gunfight. And once we get the answer from engineering, get our turbolasers firing!" She straightened a little, still leaning a little over the command table as she watched the shapes resolve on order orders. Outside, the shields thrummed as it accepted the Gra'tua Dral's opening salvos. From behind powerful shields, it felt like a slap on the back at the end of a tennis match. That wouldn't last forever. "Tell the remainder of the fleet to follow our lead. Whatever defenses of the flagship and its escorts they can disable to set up our run and the Raiders."

"Aye, Captain," Banderos said, relaying the orders. Then, his head popped up again: "Sir, two of theirs are breaking off toward the blockade!"

Vesper glanced over at Banderos, her eyebrows knitting together, unimpressed. "Do I look like I give a damn? For now that is the Imperials' problem. You have your orders."

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Vesper's eyeliner remains at 100% crispness (mission critical)
• The Solar Cannon is powering up. Don't worry it's just for suntanning.
• Mother Mercy's armaments tasked to defend against fighter attacks to the extent practicable.
• Engineers are factoring the gravitational anomaly from the Star Anchor into firing and maneuvering calculations. Fucking nerds.
• Mother Mercy begins setting up for an attack run at the Gra'tua Dral. Meanwhile, Sith Raiders are being incentivized to turn their powerful ship-deconstructing weapons against the flagship.
• I'm having such a blast you guys <3

___________________________________________________________________

Allies: TSC | Tavi Corvask
Enemies: Mandalorians | Romul Saxon​

 

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

---

---

​

OBJECTIVE 2: CRACK THE SHELL
TAG:
OPPS: Seris Velmora | Emissary of Strife | Vesper Thrace | Tavi Corvask
ALLIES: Seva Beroya | Romul Saxon | Yolaghun​

​

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND​

THEME​

​

Through a fortuitous turn of the force, Kjartan’s opening gamble worked - knocking the Sith woman back. However, the force would indeed be with her, as she was able to recover back to her feet as only a practitioner of their dark arts could.

The twin weapons illuminated the corridor once more. Seris settled into a low stance. Then tilted her head. The grin never left. Her gaze lingered on Hammer-Hand. Then on the two sword-brothers. Then back again. "Three against one?" She laughed.

"Careful." The Sith took several slow steps forward. "You keep looking at me like that and people might get the wrong idea."

Her eyes locked onto the Mandalorian warlord. "Though I admit..." The grin sharpened. "...I've had worse introductions."

The deck shuddered violently beneath her feet as another impact echoed somewhere deep within the dying Star Destroyer. Her smile only grew. "Not much time left either." No strategy. No retreat. No concern whatsoever for the self-destruct countdown. Only violence. Seris launched herself forward with the Force.

Grim silence was all that met the woman as each second seemed to pass for a minute.

He felt the deck lurch below him. He could feel the weight of the moment resting upon him; the time clicking down to a zero hour that tightened about him like a noose. Once again, the Sith woman’s reflexes flashed on the verge of supernatural. Her first strike flew high, obviously meant to either disarm or throw Kjartan off balance. He brought his beskad up in a riposte, yet just as he did so, her second saber lashed out in another wide sweep to throw them all on the defensive. He recoiled just in time, shifting his balance for the edge of her blade to pass within millimeters of his helmet.

His companions though, were not so nimble. The first had to throw up a desperate block to try and redirect, yet the force behind Seris’ attack knocked the sword-brother off balance.

The second could not get his blade up in time, with the edge of her saber carving a nasty slash into the front of his armor. Most of it was Beskar’gam, so he avoided a clearly mortal wound - yet a grunt of pain exited his helmet from a nick along the mesh lining between his plates.

It was then that another message came through.

Yolaghun opened a channel. <The Hammer-Hand. The vessel grows worse. Do you require aid getting your men clear? A distraction or an extraction, perhaps? Or do you require more time?>

<“Buy us whatever time you can.”> Kjartan grunted quickly, hoping his transmission made it through the static. He hoped Caris could make it through the beleaguered Sith defenses before time ran out. For now, his mission was to hold this talkative Sith schutta at bay.

He pressed the attack, feinting with his blade before stopping short and sweeping low, trying to catch her ankle within the hooked back-end of his hammer. He followed up the attack with a stab aimed toward the Sith’s midsection, trying to buy time for his sword-brothers to collect themselves and rejoin the fray.

Meanwhile...

Caris’ strike group pressed forward, meeting frantic resistance as what Imperial forces remained fought a hasty retreat deeper into the ship. As the Mandalorians advanced, they finally met stiffer resistance as they pushed toward a command substation - linked into the central computer network. The Mandalorian lieutenant barked orders against the storm of blaster fire filling the corridor: <“PUSH! We’re running low on time.”>

The Mandalorian raiders fought like demons, laying down thick covering fire while others charged forward with their swords and daggers, punching through the already battered line of defenders and cutting them down with great prejudice. Eventually, the blaster fire died down... and gave way to a notable, unsettling quiet.

It was quiet... too quiet. The substation lay behind a set of thick durasteel doors, no doubt reinforced with turadium. Caris had a sneaking suspicion that more defenders lay on the other side of it, desperate to carry out whatever orders they possessed. “Blow open the doors. We’re going in hard.”

The Mandalorian company arrayed itself in a breaching manuever on either side, with one approaching the door and setting charges against the locked seam. He terminated two wires into a central charge, and stepped off to the side. He held up five fingers.

Four...

Three...

Two...

One...

A violent directed explosion shattered through the door, followed by a pair of warriors on either side throwing primed flash bang grenades into the chamber. They would detonate almost as soon as they entered, and the Mandalorian warriors rounded in - rushing in hard to take advantage of their momentum.

---

---

The Imperials were dead set on snapping closed the teeth of a trap, their interdictors working hard to close the opening desperately kept open by Mandalorian steel. The Forgemaster bellowed orders above the din of status updates and alerts. “Redirect fire upon the enemy interdictors. We need to keep the corridor open for our warriors.”

No sooner had he uttered the command did the tactical officer chime in. “Sir, we’re detecting emerging signatures from lightspeed behind us.”

As if on cue, the joint mercenary/Covenant fleet emerged behind the Mandalorian assault, lead by a massive Exarch-class Dreadnought, snapping proverbial jaws closed to seemingly hem in the beleaguered Mythos Fleet. But as any commander would tell you, the only way to fight out of being surrounded, was with overwhelming force through one direction. “We have our orders. We must keep the corridor open at all costs, starting with those interdictors.”

The Hammer-hand Warfleet directed its firepower toward the Interdictors, with the b]Buurenaar’gam[/b] pulling the double duty of trying to hold the derelict destroyer in place, while using its massive cannons to join along with the rest in trying to pop the interdictors from the void. The balance of the fleet’s basilisk war droids and fighters joined the fray, surging into the corridor between the derelict and the remainder of the Imperial Fleet in a desparate bid to keep it open.

“We just need to hold... a little longer.” The Forgemaster said, half to those around him and half to himself.

Spoiler: Ship Status

• Buurenaar’gam - Ha’rangir-class Star Destroyer
  • Shields - [Light Damaged]
  • Armor - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Jai’Galaar-class starfighters x3
• Kalden’kad - Brok’ur-class Heavy Assault Cruiser
  • Shields - [Light Damaged]
  • Armor - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Jai’Galaar-class starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x2
• A’den Beskar - Brok’ur-class Heavy Assault Cruiser
  • Shields - [Light Damaged]
  • Armor - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Jai’Galaar-class starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x2
• Akaan'ar - Cabur-class Escort Frigate
  • Shields - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Armor - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Nynir Ekurak starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x1
• Sapan’vod - Cabur-class Escort Frigate
  • Shields - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Armor - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Nynir Ekurak starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x1
• Akaan’uliik - Cabur-class Escort Frigate
  • Shields - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Armor - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Nynir Ekurak starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x1
• Gaht’yc Woor - Cabur-class Escort Frigate
  • Shields - [Lightly Damaged]
  • Armor - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Nynir Ekurak starfighters x1
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x1
• Yai’me’suum’ - Dalab-class Strike Carrier
  • Shields - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Armor - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Superstructure - [UNDAMAGED]
  • Squadrons:
    • Nynir Ekurak starfighters x4
    • Jai’Galaar starfighters x4
    • “Howler” Basilisk War Droids x4

Spoiler: Summary of Actions

• Kjartan Hammer-hand’s duel with Seris turns into a delay tactic to keep her focus on them while the breaching team continues to a command substation.
• Caris (npc lieutenant) begins a breaching maneuver into the command substation, throwing flash bang grenades into the chamber. After they detonate, the Mandalorians push in to engage whatever Imperial forces lay within.
• The Fleet redirects its fire upon the Imperial interdictors to create an opening to escape, with the measure of its basilisk wardroids and fighters rushing in to assist in securing the corridor.
• Kjartan continues aura farming.

​

 

[Emissary of Strife]

OOC: Hammer-Hand and I agreed to do a separate posting order from the rest of his fleeting, so I can better align with his posting schedule!
NPC ENGAGEMENT: Kjartan Hammer-Hand | Seris Velmora | Yolaghun
​

The flashbangs threw off the first line of Imperials. Sure, their visors did a pretty decent job of dampening the sudden burst of light, but not the noise. The noise. That concussive blast forced one of 'em to vomit inside their own helmet, while others around him stumbled awkwardly. Another fired a blind shot directly into the leg of his own man. It wasn't looking great up front - in the back, however, was another story.

See, when they were informed that it was Mandalorians who boarded their ship, members of the Imperial Marines immediately questioned one thing: 'Just what the hell do we do about the beskar?' They asked themselves. Naturally, they assumed every Mandalorian wore the damn stuff.

Fire. Hot, sticky fire was their answer. They had snatched the flamethrowers from the armory and distributed them across the ship. Thankfully, two of 'em were in that room. The flametroopers weren't really too concerned about friendly fire, given that the odds that any of them would survive were rather low. If there was one thing you could attribute the Solipsian regime with, it was instilling a cult-like mentality in its officer corps, who in turn drilled that belief into their own men. That their lives were meaningless unless sacrificed. That their families would be shamed and dropped a rung should any of them go out like cowards. Fear. Sith-inspired fear. A shame then that the Sith Covenant hated Imperials, because things might've worked out better for these Imperials otherwise.

The flametroopers opened up, spewing a thin, gel-like substance ignited by a lighter at the tip. It stuck to anything and burned hot enough to turn just about any kind of armor into a barbecue. Including those poor imperial troopers trapped at the front of the line, and barring the most extreme set of misfortunes, the enemy pouring through the breach.

In the reactor room, things were solemn. The exits were sabotaged, the bridges demolished. Troopers were sick, dying, or dead from the immense spike in temperature, and the reactor housing glowed a violent red, with metal literally stripping off in molten slags.

Elsewhere aboard, the Spirit Breaker was chaos. In one bulkhead, a large waterline had burst, flooding the hallways. Crew and troopers waded through, neck deep, fighting the weight of rushing water in a desperate attempt to reach the escape pods. Such malfunctions were happening all across the ship.

On the bridge, the captain stood alone, posture perfect, surrounded by sparking consoles that were destroyed prior to the rest of the bridge's evacuation. Well, actually, he wasn't quite alone.

"Sir," her shaky breath broke him from his dissociation. "It's time to evacuate." Indeed, klaxons blared all across the ship.

The captain smiled bitterly, though he hadn't turned to face her, but she caught it off a reflective surface. "I have been captain of this ship since the day I was promoted. There was no other before it, and there will be no other after. Honestly... I wouldn't have it any other way."

There was a pause. He turned his head only slightly, enough for his voice to carry further behind him. "Dismissed, ensign."

She took a deep breath. "Yes, s--Thank you, father."

When the door closed behind her, the captain drew his pistol.

Slowed, yet still drifting ever lower, escape pods fired for Humbarine below. Not too far from them, the glistening dots against the Humbarine sun that they were, was the rest of the HDF battle fleet, and a pair of interdictors tucked away like a dirty secret. One began to move further behind a formation of heavier star destroyers, but the other was caught in a coming barrage. Shields dwindling fast, and some shots bypassed entirely, pummeling the armor.

Spoiler: Action Summary

• Imperial Marines (flametroopers included!) duke it out with raiders within a substation.
• The reactor core is barely holding it together as it approaches detonation, causing mass malfunctions across the ship.
• Escape pods are beginning to launch in waves.
• The combined effort of the tractor beams and Yolaghun (forgive me if I misinterpreted) is slowing the ship's descent by a good margin.
• One interdictor is taking heavy fire, the other is trying to crawl away behind a pack of ISD2s.

​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

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

Thunder rolled in the distance as she plunged herself into his mindscape. Red flashes of lightning and rumbling clouds seemed to follow her into his subconscious.

It was dark, like night time without stars, or moons. Just blackness. The only light shown were the quick jokes of red lightning that silhouetted a massive palace in the background, looking down at her like a looming shadow, forgotten by time. A crimson red fog clung to the ground swallowing up her boots.

The palace seemed to sit atop a mountain. No, not a mountain. A dormant volcano, a sleeping giant of destructive force that could level the city that surrounded the palace.

There were no other people. Just a quiet whistle upon the wind that followed the tune of the Empress.

Faintly upon the wind she could hear his screams of pain. The very same scream that left Varin's chest before she had leapt into his mind. The sound came from a massive oak nearby, surrounded by a massive garden. Only the plants were all burned.

Chained to the oak tree by three chains, one over his throat and one on each leg. Each arm had a broken chain attached to the wrist. Varin stood wrestling with a massive draconic entity made of smoke and fire. Its massive clawed hand clamped over his throat.

Above him hanging from the tree, we're three bodies, unidentifiable from the quick flashes.

Ignati's grip squeezed as if to smother Varin until he submitted, Varin's hands clamped down on the claws of the beast in an attempt to hold them back. The burning runes upon his body pulsing weakly.

"The....mission..."

His voice strained from the pressure clamped over his throat.

Driect Tag: Lily Rhodes
Tags: Acier Moonbound | Tamsin Starfall | Arris Windrun | Vess Sadragen​

 

[Siv Dragr]

G U N S L I N G E R

[] Entropy []​

Allies: Sahan Dragr | Mandalorians
Enemies: Srina Talon | Mercy | Sith

“…Here I am.”

Siv remained fixated on his opponent as he hung in the air her, intent on gauging her reaction to a lethal weapon pointed directly at her head, whether or not she could ascertain it. In those seconds, finally with a moment to spare, Siv's HUD could process the face that stood in front of him, algorithms churning through relevant biomarkers and cross-referencing with Iron Covenant databases. Immense, built out from the days of the Enclave on Roon and continually updated via the Nynir'kad's underworld contacts.

FACIAL MATCH: SRINA TALON
MATCH CONFIDENCE: 84.6%
CAUTION: MULTIPLE BIOMETRIC COLLISIONS DETECTED

His hand tightened on the trigger. Siv knew that name. Echani. Sith, through and through. Rumors swirled of a Sith Empress, and Siv wondered whether that was truly who was on the other end of his blaster's barrel. How surprisingly fragile she appeared. He waited with bated breath. Would she say more? The lack of recognition, the near lack of passion, enraged the Mandalorian. How dare she, she whose kind had taken everything he knew and loved, who'd turned him out alone to the galaxy when he was barely even out of his adolescence, stand here now and not hate him with every fiber of her being, as did he, she and all she stood for.

"…You are in my way…”

"So be it--" he snarled, finger squeezing on the trigger, but then beneath him the floor exploded. Dust and ice created an immense cloud where a tower had once stood. Siv, hovering, was knocked back in the air by the violent decompression but remained afloat. Sahan. Where was Sahan? Smoke still rose from where the tower had stood moments before. In the distance, a bell tolled, dissonant and corrupted. It sounded like mourning. It sounded like death.

Siv flipped his sight to thermals. He could see two figures in the distance at the base of the tower. Rage filled him like fire. An unnatural smog had begun to creep through the streets. Above, red lightning thundered. In the distance and near, explosions. The eclipse that had once threatened to cover Humbarine City in darkness, itself now shrouded by dark clouds conjured by Sith magicks.

He scanned the surroundings frantically. Tried comms. "Sahan. Sahan. SAHAN!" Tried battlenet. No sign of Sahan. He refused to believe that his son had gone down with the tower -- he'd raised him better than that -- but where was the damn kid? His breathing was elevated, his heart pounding in his chest as he wildly, desperately tried to see some sign of his ad'ika. But he could see none.

Rage built up in him, and his attention refocused on the two who stood far below. Their thermal signatures stood out clearly against the rubble. They would die, he swore. Worse. They would know pain worse than mere death. There were still elements of the tower and its larger base standing. He did not know how the Sith had survived such a collapse. He flexed his wrist. His whistling birds chirped happily. He fired them, not at the Sith itself, but at the weak points of the remnant structure, sending it collapsing downwards and inwards on them. And with the caving in ferrocrete and durasteel, Siv himself dove with singular, purposeful intent.

The pattern, he'd taken notice of. He could see the care the larger Sith had for the Echani. Siv did not aim to strike the golden one at all, but for the one thing that she cared for. He unsheathed his knife in the seconds that it took for him to dive, ready to plunge it into the silver-haired woman's neck as he hurtled downwards towards her.

To take what was owed him.