Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Invasion Schism's Dawn // NIO invasion of TSE controlled Mygeeto and Muunilinst


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// IMPERATOR | ENIGMA ACTUAL // 1st ‘Punished’ Stormtrooper Legion
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEMATIC // DUEL-35
// ENGAGING // Cara Dorniarn Cara Dorniarn
// NIO - Allies // FN-999
// TSE - Enemy // Mazrim Caide/Taim Mazrim Caide/Taim

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<"Progress."> Tavlar spits in a faint retort as he prioritizes a response to her initial flurry before he ever responded again. Shifting his hips and angling his upper body to the side to his left he move to capture her arm between his stomach and bicep, moving to pull her toward him with a crushgaunt enforced grasp up her arm.

With his composite, heavily armored helmet abosrbing the blow the shockwave of the impact served to irritate the beskar horn jutting from his skull beneath. Offering up a low groan of a deeply painful hit. Immediately after moving to slam his right fist into her abdomen, activating the knuckle mounted retracted vibroblade concealed with his vambrace before he moved his left leg in order to slam the side of his foot behind her calf to send her off her footing. Using the potential capture of her arm with his as a fulcrum point to slam her her unto her back toward the ground, pressing the weight and momentum of his body into hers as he kicked his leg back to the side and toward himself to press the advantage.

<"There is no progress. Your Empire serves to swell the hubris of its gods. If it did not, they wouldn't
hide from it. Wake from your walking slumber, Dorniarn."> Tavlar retorts, in spite of the ailing pain, he retains his composure, speaking in a foreboding, frigid inflection past the vocoder of his helmet. The congregation at Bastion may very well had been the spark which birthed the inferno. Were it not for Darth Bellum Darth Bellum , Irveric may never had been able to confront his enemies face to face till the war's eruption. His kind, the Imperial were barred from such a momentous encounter. The Sith were the ruling class of this Empire and at the summit of its order, it did everything in its power to be sure of it that no true Imperial might catch a glimpse at their meeting.

"Useless, I can see now why this was primed only for the initiated with men and women of my ilk barred from the doors. If the legions of this Empire peered upon you all now as you are the gates would be battered down and the ticks and leeches wrenched clean from our fatherland. You carry yourselves as gods and even so you bleed our Empire dry to sate your lust for power. The lot of you argue over the mass graves of millions who spilled their lifeblood to keep you comfort and even so you hide yourselves from the Empire you cling to so desperately. None of you...none of you have any right to this."
A sentiment which the Imperator made due on. His fear ; inoculated. He would not cower in the face of darkness. He didn't then, he certainly wasn't now.


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// EXECUTOR //
//
MUUNILIST // ASSAULT ON MYGEETO // RIP AND TEAR //
// AM I A PSYCHO? //
// LIGHTSABER //
// Imperial Warlord Zovesa Imperial Warlord Zovesa // Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf //





Blaster fired ripped through the howling storm, the trail of fiery red death focused on the unbending form of Vaulkhar Zambrano. The element of surprise once held by the fallen Jedi melting away by the path of death and destruction left in his wake. Where once the force-wound could be described as a specter, dancing throughout the storm to a raging tune, delivering death unto the unsuspecting, his latest approach demanded something else. The Sith-Imperial legionnaires were on to the dark one's ways. Now, the Bastard took to the front with reckless abandon, his anarchic form wreathed in a shadowy doom. Formerly a specter of the end times, the now-juggernaut marched to the beat of silent war drums, sounding the promised annihilation he held close to his still heart.
As if the Marshal's precarious situation was not enough, but the bonus of one Dark Council member left the fallen Jedi hungering for more.
<"We've spotted the traitor!"> a legionnaire spoke into his commlink, reporting the situation to an unknown. <"We are unable to retreat and hold off the advancing forces! Men, focus your fire on the force user. We must break him to fall back!">
"Loyalty is a curious thing," Vaulkhar muttered to himself as he stomped across the icy bridge. The vermilion saber flashed out to his left, effortlessly batting aside an incoming blaster bolt. "You all hold your ground here, taking your chances against a transcendent being of power you simply cannot fathom," the Executor's hollow tone sounded over the storm, projected beyond the typical bubble of perception via an inbuilt function to the grinning mask. "Rather than retreat and clear the way, you would face me! A grievous error," his words dripped with the influence of the force, weaving between each soldier holding the bridge before him. Terror gripped each in turn, setting a mad shaking through their body that rivaled the effects of the blizzard. "Tavlar gave you all a chance. You turned him down, you sealed your fate, and you've presented yourselves upon the snow that would soon bury your corpses. An exciting prospect, wouldn't you say? A pained death at the hands of one who sought to save you all."
Dozens of shots whipped towards the Executor, only to stop midair as he raised a hand. Each bolt trembled, trapped within the effects of a stasis field. A slow push of his arm sent each round screeching back at its point of emergence. Screams of pain sounded from within the storm as bodies dropped. Steam rose from the blaster wounds, though many of the troopers hadn't yet fallen. Their armor provided defenses capable of weathering such attacks. As they pushed back onto their feet, a cold grip latched onto their pained bodies. That grasp tightened, reaching beyond the physical to instead latch onto the cosmic essence that made up their being. Their bodies slowed, becoming sluggish and pained as their life essence slowly drained away, feeding the unstoppable machine of extermination marching down the bridge. Beneath their armor, their skin grayed, eventually tearing like a thin paper. Fissures ran across their bones, cracking from the weight of their armaments and armor holding them together. The husks dropped to the frozen surface, slowly buried beneath the furious flurry.
Vaulkhar stepped over one such corpse, moving towards the burning form of a dropship laid out across the bridge. He pushed through the flames, the dark silhouette of absolution visible to the Marshall and Dark Councilor. The wide-grinning mask met each, in turn, a gaze of burning crimson locked onto the Sith Lord in particular.
 
we shall all die willingly
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// AIRBORNE TASK FORCE "HELLHOUND" //
// HOLD
//
//
HOTEL ARAD, THIRD AVENUE, HARNAIDAN; BEHIND ENEMY FRONT LINES //
//
CALLSIGN: HELLHOUND-TWO //
//
NIO // Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter


They would die before they gave an inch to the enemy.

Holed up in the hotel, the last platoon of Gladius Company, along with Captain Belisarius, held their ground as the Sith-Imperial Legionnaires mounted an en masse assault. Whatever makeshift defensive emplacements they were able to create were easily overwhelmed by the Sith-Imperial's push, the only thing holding them back was the Company's pure zeal. Make the bastard die for his, was what the veteran Sgt. Vukic had said before the battle ensued.

Missiles launched, tore through shields and tossed lifeless bodies of the Company across. Blaster fire rained from everywhere so hard, everyone struggled to even hear their thoughts, let alone orders. This was no longer a battle between soldiers, organization was no longer existent. No, this was a battle of morale.

And the Company karkin' held, unwilling to die without taking a dozen Legionnaires with them.

Had he kept the rest of the company, along with Lt. Agrippa, in here and not have sent them to disable the AA battery in a hopeless operation to save merely two imperial soldiers - Tempest and Wraith, then they would've had a bit more time for the 12th Army's artillery to get in range; yet, no one disputed the order. The Company faced their fate with no regrets.

But the enemy's commander was willing to exterminate the Company and reclaim the strategic position the New-Imperial stormtroopers had conquered. Through the numerous openings in the building, the Sith-Imperial commander had ordered his troopers to fill the whole place up with Firestorm grenades. The Legionnaires backed away from the hotel, keeping their safe range and awaited the inevitable - the toxic gas to do its job while they come in after simply to mop up.

It burned his lungs, helmet or no helmet. An incinerating plague scorching his whole respiratory system; the coughs that followed brought dried blood into his mouth. An honorless death. Belisarius desired to collapse and end this misery forever. His own men, boys and veterans, fell on their knees grabbing at their throat but there was no easy escape to be found. A few of his men gave up, trickled out of the death camp that was the hotel and were greeted by executioners' blaster bolts; a quick death.

"C-captai--a-an hono-" he heard Sgt. Vukic crawl to him. A meager attempt at a salute - failed.

This was it.

"O-one l-l--" the Captain coughed his lungs out. "-ast or-order."

Vukic's head came up, barely. Life was trickling away.

The Captain reached for his forearm and tapped a few buttons. A command was issued through their HUDs. Belisarius stood up, aided by his rifle and brought Sgt. Vukic up on his feet. Brothers' helmets tapped at each other.

And out of all exits of the hotel a sentient could pass through, the remaining stormtroopers of Gladius Company charged with helmets melting and lungs disintegrating, under the rain of the 12th Army's artillery, to follow the last order their Captain gave them.

FIX BAYONETS!

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// AIRBORNE TASK FORCE "HELLHOUND"; 2ND PLATOON, GLADIUS COMPANY //
//
LIEUTENANT AGRIPPA POV//
// DISABLE AA EMPLACEMENT
//
//
NORTH OF 3RD AVENUE, HARNAIDAN; BEHIND ENEMY FRONT LINES //
//
CALLSIGN: HELLHOUND-TWO-ONE //
//
NIO // Sam Deckard Davis Garrick Davis Garrick Ursula Vizla Ursula Vizla
// TSE // Maiven


The chorus of a roar thundered across the city and I snapped to look back; the hotel was no longer to be seen, covered behind endless grey buildings but we all knew what had happened. The order had flashed across our own HUDs and we had all stopped in our tracks when it had arrived. I recall we never talked about it again, only paid our respects after all was said and done.

"Lieutenant Agrippa, we have to keep moving." the Sergeant's voice sternly brought him back to his mission at hand. He was right but I couldn't help the rock forming in my throat. I wanted to weep, soldier's life be damned!

With what remained of our Company under my command, we shuffled through the streets of Harnaidan warily but decisively to complete our objective - disabling an anti-air battery two klicks north from the hotel. That was the only chance they had at procuring an evac dropship for the two lost stormtroopers, Tempest and Wraith. I had cursed, spat and sworn, all under my breath, when the Captain had given me that order; we all had wanted to remain together, stick to our primary objective and die as one, if we had to; but the Captain had denied him that. No honorable death with Agrippa, he would carry the burden of survival; and survival was still debatable.

Our luck was about to run when we came into a street blockade with no way to circumvent it but the ferocious arrival of Ursula Vizla Ursula Vizla had taken the Legionnaires' attention giving us that much needed leeway to sneak along and head further deep towards our target. If I was looking for the silver lining, this was probably it. We kept our heads down and carried on.

Another blockade of the street sent us like dashing like rats into the shelters of adjacent buildings. Not a few unsuspecting snipers or machine gunner legionnaires met their demise that day at the end of our vibroknives. Not long ago, these men had been our brothers. I wondered if any of those killed today had been someone I knew, a brother in arms once, a bunkmate from boot camp? The thought lingered only for a moment before I waved it away. Now is all that mattered.

By the time we reached a building looking straight at the building which housed the AA battery on its rooftop, we had killed more men than we had lost. Oddly enough, I felt no satisfaction, no glory, no sweet revenge. Just nothing.

<"Tempest, this is Hellhound-Two-One. We are in striking distance of the battery. Break. How close are you to LZ? Repeat. At battery. Break. How close to LZ?">
 
He blocks the incoming blow with his forearm, the small bones in his wrist pulverizing on contact. Still, he shoulder checks the other soldier and grunts his reply to his question.
“My name is Mazrim Caide. And you’re right kid, I’m here fighting too. Difference is, I’m defending. You’re aggressing. Trust me, this isn’t some heroic career. You stay in this life, you’ll end up a butcher or a corpse. Nothing more”
As he speaks, he stomps on the man’s foot to hold him in place. Gritting his teeth, he swings his ruined fist in what he hopes looks like a desperate, pain driven haymaker.
Come on,” the legionnaire prays in his head, “Take the bait...”

Tags: Cara Dorniarn Cara Dorniarn FN-999 Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar
 
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Location: Harnaidan City
Task: Objective One - Battle for Muunilinst
Focus: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt (Evil Eyes)
Faction: New Imperial Order

---

As it stood, Dorn-2 should be utterly decimated by now. The crash of the gunship, the injuries thereafter, and the sniper that haunted them, not to mention the fact that they still were in an active battlefield. However the seven had managed, they were pushing onwards. There was some unspeakably deep spirit that echoed between all of the members of the squad. Many of them were hobbling, limping, though none of them seemed to have more of a lack in their step than the one that was leading them. Ravraa was nearly lurching forward with every step, and the pain that demanded his attention as it shot again, step, again, step, again through his leg was nearly maddening. He couldn't afford to succumb to the pain. This was the situation. Despite how much it would pain him, despite the obvious further damage he must be doing to himself, despite the feeling of the suture breaking ever so slightly and letting a dribble of crimson streak, his solution
had to be to press on. Should he collapse, should be give in, these men would be damned. He would be damned. He would push on, if not only for himself if for them, His story would not end bleeding out as an exhausted mess in some forgotten urban center on a Muun planet. That was not to be his life. Afterall, he still had to find a cloak.

The stumble steps were brought to a momentary halt as the HUDs of the squad, nearly in unison, suddenly downloaded new information that they were far from privy to before. Full maps of the layout of the city, after a brief loading period, sprung to life in the top left of their HUDs. Rather confusingly, the display came off as three dimensions, and made it difficult to exactly pan out what they were looking at given any point. Though, there was a saving grace to the update. Now they had a proper understanding of their location within the madness. The map didn't account for personnel or the changes to the landscape that the battle may have had, but it did what it could to present them with a similar sight as what would be given to tourists. Ravraa came to a stop, holding for a moment. Partially to look over the new holomap, partially to allow some of the pressurized pain in his leg to batter off. His comms still occasionally dared to spurt through calls of other squads and other locales, it seemed as if most of the fighting was inside of the city proper by this rate. They were late to the party. There were some names that dared to break through, though the meaning and purpose kept seeming to be lost on Ravraa. Someone was fighting something, monsters, beasts, demons. The names didn't make an exact science. Command? Someone, somewhere, was fighting for their life it seemed. Leave it to Dorn-2 to have to save the day.

<"'Right, new route. Punching right through this slice of town, push through. Quicker that way. Score some kills on the way, longarms up, boys!"> He would call back to his men, attempting to fall back into a more regular militaristic jog, his body crouching ever so slightly, the pain now coming in harsher and more potent beats as he went. Though, for the most part, the new found adrenaline pumping through him at the thought of proper combat filled him with a childlike glee. Maybe it had been worth getting his calf shived by stray metal.

The initial breach into the city was far from the situation that Ravraa had expected. Instead of being greeted by a hail of blaster bolts, or even being funneled into a new command by NIO troopers that had gained purchase, instead he stood on the silent horizon of the battlefield. Making their way, simply walking between the alleyways, into the first break of street into the city, the only thing that resounded with each of them was how quiet it was. The reaper had passed through here already, and laying at the feet of the stormtroopers as they passed were gatherings of betaplast and plasteel. Armored bodies clumped over one another, careful steps would bring the soldiers over each of the corpses, though it was nearly an impossible number on both sides. The squad was nearly dead silent, save for the clacking of their armor, as they went. The positions that these men were originally settled in, behind windows, in doorways, alleys, turned over street-speeders, carried the most of the blaster marks and bodies. Though there were some from the sprints to overtake positions. Commanders and privates, it was difficult to tell rank from the score marks, blood, and dirt. A sight stood out to Ravraa as they passed, following the HUD as they went. There was a NIO stormtrooper, helmetless special, a pauldron hung on his side. A hand blaster was dropped by his side as his form lay crumpled face down. A legionarie wasn't far from his position, steps away maybe, in the man's right hand was a bacta application device. No weapon to be spied. He couldn't make sense of the scene, what it could mean, the purpose lost within the conflict itself.

Wandering down the road, the men attempting to push the sight out of their mind, they moved roughly in a proper order. Spacing between each stormtrooper was generous, rifles kept up to their shoulders, each alleyway and doorway being checked as they passed. Each window a possible thread. Three of the squad took the right side of the street, the other four, with Ravraa at the head, to the left. The sniper hung back from each group, in the event they broke into a gunfight, he wouldn't be fighting against his scope more than the enemy. Despite the booming hearts in each of their chests, despite the worry Ravraa found every time he brought his carbine around in search of blackened armor, he found none, time and time again. It was quiet, beyond quiet, and again and again, they found signs of damage and combat. Fallen soldiers on both sides. The gentle curve of the city gave way to a larger area, that appeared to be some much more simple bazaar. Plain stalls left long abandoned by their users, the Sith Empire must've abandoned the city, if not the entire planet. It was outside of their norm, from what he was aware, but it did strike him. Something about this war was to be different. Again, the floor was littered with dozens of forms.

The groan echoing from the empty space sent each of them onto their knees, rifles brough high, scanning the entire area for some form of resposne. Nothing. Simply another low rumble from the depths of a rattling chest. Slowly, each of the members of Dorn-2 brought themselves to stand, Ravraa throwing sharp chops of a hand single forward as the troop began to advance forward. Inch by inch, interrupted time and time again of his leg begging to let it go out. Step. Step. The groan had turned into a pitiful whimper now. Far off from the main sight of the battle, following the scratches that etched themselves into the stonework, was a form of black armor pressed into the wall of a building. The helmet of the Legionarie was damaged heavily, with much of the right of the face plate broken away, revealing a bloodied face. The exact species was nearly impossible to make out. The lower extremes of the troopers legs were simply blown away, leaving bloodied stumps with ash-grey bone jutting from the mess. A handblaster was loosely fumbled with, before being dropped from the man's grip. Ravraa held up a flat hand, the rest of his squad lowering their blasters as he approached the withering form.

A blurred, bloodshot eye weakly looked up to the approaching Togruta. A voice attempting to make some sense of the situation, though the words refused to make themselves known, instead they kept dying in his throat, time and time again. They faltered to bring anything of mention out. Ravraa lowered himself to the sputtering man, eyes dancing across his broken plate and bloodied form from the baywindow of his helmet. The man was shaking, violently, whether through fear or pain, Ravraa couldn't tell. Slowly, Ravraa reached out, holding and open palm to the foreign solider. The man took it, wrapping a hand missing a fair few fingers around the Togruta's. He squeezed down hard, with all the strength that remained in his passing form. The shaking got worse, the man's helmet vibrating on his head. He could have been weeping, but Ravraa couldn't register the idea.

"Backpack... front pouch..." The Sith-Imperial choked out. His grip slowly went loose. It slipped from Ravraa's hand and collapsed onto his leg.

True to his word, there was a backpack not far from the man's body, which Ravraa cautiously made his way to. Front pouch was slipped open, and reaching inside, he produced a small, hand made, envelope of Durasheet. An address was scratched in shaky penmanship into it, their sweetheart it would appear. She lived on Bastion. Wordlessly, Ravraa stood up, brought the envelope up, and stuffed it underneath his chestplate.

<"Move out."> He would say, bluntly to his squad as he walked over another forlorn corpse. Moving his team out of the bazaar.

...

Dorn-2, by and large, had little in the way of proper communications. Ravraa's comms were iffy at best, cutting out whenever they wished and transmitting most of what he wished to say or hear into pure static, so actually being able to organize a proper response to the situation in the city was nearly impossible. They had been operating on a concept of "if you hear shots, that means it's they way", and so far, the city had been uncomfortbly quiet on the outskirts. It wasn't until they had actually begin pushing into the city proper that the echos of blaster fire became more and more apparent. Bit by bit, more and more voices were added to the chorus, and bit by bit, the screams into Ravraa's comms began to become more clearer. Allowing him to at least see that it was sentients trying to reach him instead of the system itself begging for help. The smoke was getting closer and closer with their move, however, and soon, they knew that hope was just on the dawn.

Coming around the corner, more or less stumbling from another alleyway, Ravraa couldn't help but smile for the worst reason. There were blaster shots being exchanged down the road, near an intersection of buildings. White betaplasted troops were huddling in the windows and on the ground level behind whatever cover was available. Mainly fallen section of building and what seemed to be native police barricades to Ravraa. He hardly recognized the unit, he hardly had any idea on who these men and women could be, but he was insanely glad to see some friendly infantry. Dorn-2 had ended up on the back end of some of the stormtroopers on street level, the last thing he wanted to do was scare them and earn a blaster bolt from a friendly.

<"Whoever is held up at the intersection on fifth, you've got friendlies heading in eastside. Watch your shots!"> Ravraa said on nearby comms.

Bringing his carbine up, the rest of his men doing likewise, they began to move down the street, sticking close to the sides of the buildings until they were afforded close enough to actually stick to the same bits of cover that the new friendlies were. Blasters were already being brought up as they moved, firing over the heads of their fellow stormtroopers, sending return fire at the opposition that had their friends in cover to begin with.
 
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Amur

Guest
A
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Post: 5
Location: Mygeeto, Southern Mesas, Bridge 2
Faction Objective: 1
Allies: Darth Kados Jyon Hlervu Jyon Hlervu | TSE Forces
Enemies: Darth Bellum Darth Bellum Hunter Blackburn Hunter Blackburn Grrwunhoooll Agaburry Grrwunhoooll Agaburry | NIO Forces
Gear: Listed in Character Bio along with Two Durasteel climbing axes affixed to belt. Boots have been replaced with spiked boots from Alpine Legionnaire Armor
Theme: Alicorn
Immediate Objective: Fight


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It was a mess of chaos going on around the Sith from the marine charge, to the face off that a fellow Sith had decided to do against Kor Vexen, to the yelling going on over the comms that was a shower of information but yet all of that was fading away from her field of view as she focus on the great large Gen’dai that seemed to be relishing every second of this. She could taste the psychotic boiling energy in him that just craved for the sound of flesh being torn asunder and for the thrill of hearing your opponent scream. Orders being flashed through the hud of her helmet only to be ignored as she fixated on her massive opponent not wanting to give the cretin a single opening for an easy hit.

It chuckled at her which only made her more inclined to battle as her body instinctually leaned forward and she could feel the heel of her foot dig into the ground. It really wanted her ferocity right now? Well then. ”Sorry, I’m saving that for another man.” Amur would say as she started to sprint forward as well. The Gen’dai’s swing was quick, brutish and aggressive as he extended his reach out with his right arm. His charge accompanied it to quickly overwhelm and saturate whoever he faced with attacks, Fear inducing for many but fear had already left her mind. When he swung his vibrosword Amur would unleash a quick force dash to get inside his swing and close the distance between the two rendering his sword harmless for the time as she cleared passed it. As she passed she would twist to her right while delivering an upward strike that would hopefully cleave through Rive’s thick durasteel armor and sever his left arm.

As she finished her swing she would drop down on her side in order to slide pass Rive and while doing so would keep her saber held out so when she passed by the hulking Gen’dai the saber would cut through his leg just below where the Gen’dai’s ‘knee’ would have been so that she could also sever it in order to both greatly reduce his attack strength and mobility for long enough that a more permanent solution could be enacted.

As she would pass behind Rive she would turn around and kick herself up to a standing defensive stance ready to react to any blow the beast decide to try on the Sith, and she did hope that there was still plenty of fight in him still.
 
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Sam Deckard

Guest
S
// Buckethead - 7empest //
// Muunilist, Harnaidan //
// Objective // Survive
// New Imperial Storm Armor Mk. IV | REC-RCG/01 'Reaper' - Pattern Particle Beam Chainblaster //
// New Imperial Order // Davis Garrick Davis Garrick Belisarius Belisarius Tessa // Stromtrooper Corps
// The Sith Emire // Maiven
// ESCAPE //

"Tempest, how many charges we working with? I've got a flash and one more smoke!"

Sam quickly reached down to his utility belt. In the struggle, he had all but forgotten about the explosives. Patting his hips down, his hand eventually met a loose and empty pouch. After feeling around for a second, his fingers found the large hole that encompassed the bottom of the receptacle. He must have lost the charges in the crash, he thought. In a half-hopeful, half-desperate probing, his hand shifted to the adjacent pouch. This one, much to Sam's relief, was fastened firmly with contents still inside.

"Twenty tangos minimum, they're growing with every goddamn second!"

Sams fingers rifled around in the pouch, combing through each charge in a slowly like a stack of credits. He whispered the numbers to himself as he counted them before pulling one from the stack. With a quick press of his thumb, he refastened the pouch with a small snap as the charge slipped free from his hip reticule.

"Three left, not counting this one."

"Plant a bloody charge, I'll pop a flash, and we can retreat deeper into the complex."

Sam looked around for a place to plant the charge. Many of the best locations were nearly impossible to reach without getting lit up, even with suppressing fire. Staying low, Sam crawled over to the corner of the large desk they had taken cover behind. The desk curved into a L-shape on that side and the inner corner was his best bet for placing a charge. Brining one knee up, he placed the charge on the inner side of the curve, punching a few buttons to arm the explosive.

"If we retreat down the corridor to our eight, they'll have to walk right past the charge, but this is the best I could do."

Sam peeked up over the top of the desk, resting the chainblaster on the surface. He began to fire in large back and forth arcs. Bending his knees and tucking his head down, he sought to make himself a smaller target. The suppressing fire wouldn't mean much if he were to be shredded on the spot nor would Wraith's flash serve any worthy purpose were one of the S-IMPs to get him.
 
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Muunilinst // Harnaidan // JTSP
Maynard Treicolt Maynard Treicolt // Galactic Alliance Rangers - Raider Squadron // Hailyn Hailyn

Can't Stop

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Tension made the grappling line taut, and Loske leaned her weight against it to drag the winged woman closer to her, wrapping the glowing line around her bracers one loop, then two - the line between them got shorter while her feet scraped against the concrete. Beneath the concealment of her helm, her brows raised in shock when the tendril-topped Sith took the action of self mutilation to free herself. “Wha---”

Loske had never duelled a Sith Lord head-on. Whatever number of sparring sessions she’d been through, the image painted of the dastardly foe was that they were blindly consumed by hate and aggression, and fought to smite their foes as their single objective. Sacrifice to the end goal hadn’t been considered, and when the rope’s tension was released, Loske’s step faltered and she staggered backward. Instantly, her footing was impaired by a typhonic burst of energy. Any footing she’d hoped to gain was immediately eradicated, the floor completely out of her reach while an invisible current swept her up with enough pressure to crack bones. Like a ragdoll, she was hurled backward and the tether still attached to her vambrace dragging the lifeless wings along with her. Gross.

Her HUD screamed with orange and yellow flashing lights, warning her of what she was undergoing. It was mostly distracting, rather than helpful when her back cracked against the table top that was right behind her again. The suit managed to absorb most of the kinetic burden. She skidded for a bit, before digging her saber into the table’s surface to slow the slide. The table sparked in protest, and she hammered her heel into the top, disengaging the useless chord that was still attached to her with a single gesture to her vambraces before thrusting back to her feet and springing forward.

At the same time, precognitive senses and her HUD reacted to alert her of an incoming energy surge. The swell was sourced behind them.

It was encouraged by the Force, but the electricity itself was not Forceborn. It had been Force-generated, it could be Force-repelled. Alas, it was created from a charge of motion, magnetically and sporadically intermingling. There were similarities to it, enough that Loske felt a measure of confidence twisting in her landing to face the torrent and arc her blade to defend her person, capturing a majority of the coruscating tendrils with her lightsaber. The kyber crystal inside surged with the torrent of energy, increasing the golden glow of her blade. Bits of sparks danced around her hilt, surging through her suit’s absorption powers -- the shocks came with such speed and power that it eventually overwhelmed her saber and tore through the girl’s insides, looking for ground. The young Jedi was confounded in agony, dropping to a knee and barely able to twist and point her blade back at the now wingless monster and focus all she’d collected back out in a belch of angry golden and white tendrils.

The redirected electric burst didn’t last long, and she gasped, searching for air against the pain while her suit issued breaths of bacta to the singed areas of her skin beneath the fabric. She lifted her head to assess her partner, scolding herself for not doing something more defensive to protect the pair. Was he okay? Her HUD appraised it as so, enough for her to revert her attention back to the girlish gargoyle.

Back to two feet, she clenched her teeth and her fists - grip tightening against her hilt. She'd been right, though. Going for the wings impaired the woman from flying away - their opponent was now grounded. What other weaknesses could they exploit?

Wasting no more time, she charged forward once more, planting a foot to kick off from and projecting up again with a twist, both heels together to kick out into the woman’s chest and a wild swipe of her blade that came from the right to the left.
 
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Melia Siari

Guest
M
KING GHIDORAH THEME
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Location: HIMS Imperial Fist | Bridge
Objective: Defend Muunilist
Allies: The Sith Empire
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Dracken Pryce Dracken Pryce


As the Imperial Reach pulled back from its position over the Imperial Fist and the rest of her line slowly broke formation to maneuver away from the outpouring long range weaponry the disparity in the two choices of approach was quickly beginning to show - whoever led the Alliance aiding the New Imperial Order had come prepared to attack at a distance, but they'd underestimated the Empire's own willingness to play a game of proxy warfare with an overwhelming sea of droid fighters. Their approach had seemed solid, one which relied on pushing the Empire back with a slow and steady approach, but it was one which had clearly not taken into consideration the very fighter superiority that the older Galactic Alliance, the one which the Empire had put down like the rabid dog it had been, was infamous for.

"Our slow war of attrition with the droid fighters appear to be making some semblance of headway, Ma'am." The Mirialan officer positioned to her left said, something which wasn't wholly unexpected. Fighter superiority was always a welcomed advantage, but the Trierarch had only accounted on their numbers as a source of frustration for the enemy - they were far from the key to their victory, although they were certainly a form of additional security for the course she'd set them on. "How is our positioning? Are we within range?" She asked, her attention directed to one of the analysts focused on the stream of data, variables pertinent to statistics they were seeking to quantify for strategic purposes, that seemed to constantly scroll down a holographic display at their desk. "We are still ten second from a forward position offering optimal firing range, and three and a quarter degrees from desired position of nose." The man answered, with only the slightest of pauses after she'd asked.

"Excellent. This is Trierarch Siari to bridge of Dauntless and Ravager - it is time for the line to make its push, please move forward and press an advance to our long-range targeting adversaries, the Starhawks. Trierarch to bridge of Ascension, please set course to press the advance and fall in line behind the Dauntless and Ravager. It will be your duty to fire on advancing large craft with your long range weaponry, and to try to keep the heat off of them from the Starhawks - you have permission to openly fire upon them as you enter the range of their long range cannons." She said, putting out the next round of instructions while glancing at the viewport overlooking the length of her own vessel, and the twenty or so squadrons of fully manned Sith-Imperial Strike fighters that came washing over it to prevent interference with the ship's main cannon. Bright bubble-like bursts of long range fire peppered the shields far above the Siege Breaker, but taking damage to shields was a risk she was willing to take while they lined up their Siege Cannons to target the Colony II-class that they'd presumed to be the enemy command vessel.

"Trierarch to Longbows Sharpshooter and Vornskr, please break from formation and adjust formation beneath the Imperial Fist. I want our ships parallel, positioned at the same angle, and while the Imperial Fist presses forward I want you both to be an extension of our reach until we can fire our orbital cannons. Fire your coil guns on the designated command vessel, which Communications will flag on your holographic display." Melia said, sending further instructions to the now-invaluable Longbow cruisers she'd quickly become rather fond of using. "Siari to Black Leader - I am putting my full trust in you to keep us safe, and to keep this cannon operational. You will have seventy seconds until the Imperial Fist's orbital cannons will fire on the enemy position, give us seventy-five if you can." She added.

"Black leader to Imperial Fist, instructions understood. We'll try to push for eighty." The pilot replied, maneuvering her Strike fighter across the length of the battlecruiser, trailed by dozens of other manned craft, to engage the approaching wing of Alliance fighters and the rest that were coming with them. "Let's give them hell, boys and girls." She said, addressing the rest of the Sith-Imperial Strike fighters.
 

Khagan Harrow

Guest
K
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\\ Bridge network one, several stories below Imperial Warlord Zovesa Imperial Warlord Zovesa 's main assault, opposite Lirka Ka Lirka Ka and her forces
\\ New Imperial Order, Force Corps Auxilia platoon Castus and three other platoons
\\ Cmd. Farwell: Half-way across the bridge, trying to figure out a way to get out of this alive
\\ Troops: Engaging Sithspawn warhounds, slowly converging on the midpoint of the bridge
\\ 56/56


The crunch of snow beneath his boot drowned within the intensity of the howling winds. With each step, the betaplast buried itself within the snow, creating a distinct sinking sensation as Cameron trudged through the snow towards point besh. The last of Bal's cape disappeared into the white before him, prompting him to hasten. He feared he might not see it again if he didn't.

His heart raced as his mind created the image of red bolts raining down upon him from behind the wall of snow. As thoughts of his troops dying struck his imagination and that dagger sunk deeper into his heart, eliciting a new rush of adrenaline as fear shot through his muscles like electricity.

The New Imperial Order had betrayed the Empire. The Sovereign Imperator had spat in the face of the Dark Lord and all his Sith tyrants the same way the Lord Executor had during that fateful day of council within the Sith sanctum on Bastion. A day that would become known as the day of liberation amongst the troops who now fought for the Imperial Order. In the eyes of the Dark Lord, they were worse than the cattle he called his citizens. Cameron had no illusion the Sith's offer of surrender was little more than some cruel game to goad him out of the cover of the storm had he ever genuinely considered the option.

So when their response came he scoffed.

"Your terms are deemed acceptable, traitor!"

Even if this Sith Imperial had true intent to permit their surrender, it would only be a matter of time before they ended up in the hands of some Dark Lord of Misery or Angst who would delightedly pick apart every molecule of their bodies. Cameron felt contempt rise within for even feigning interest in abandoning what they fought for.

Through the snow, he could just make out a corrupted verdant glow on the other side of the bridge.

"Lay down your arms...and kneel."

He'd grovelled before the Sith enough for several lifetimes. His existence of subjugation had come to an end the moment he tore loose the Legionnaire's insignia on his uniform and replaced it with that of the Sovereign Imperator.

The citizen's life within the Sith's Empire was a reduction to little more than the existence of a thoughtless machine that only knew to obey. To a prisoner of a tyrannic order. Those who dared to oppose it became prisoners and were robbed of the last scraps of their freedom's illusion. The most fortunate perished by the plasma of a rifle or sabre. Those who did not expected fates far worse. Their minds were shattered wholly, their bodies reduced to malnourished husks or tools, often literal, for the Empire to exhaust without mercy.

The Sith's willingness to commit unthinkable acts of cruelty upon ordinary people who dared nothing more than think beyond the narrow world their gods prescribed them had ultimately driven Cameron to free himself of his chains and to follow the Tavlar into this campaign built on treason. It was no bid for power, no selfish desire to take ahold of whatever wealth the Sith had amassed, but the affliction the Sith had thrust upon and continued to maintain over their blinded captives.

The concealed deaths of countless of their citizens whose crimes were little more than 'improper' thoughts and the relentless cruelty they gleeful inflict on those who dare to oppose in desperation to save what they love. All of the innocents caught within the wake of their repugnant shadow and under their revolting claws created the true reason he wished to fight.

As he pressed on down the bridge he pondered what his next words would be. He wanted to scream and curse the Sith, to vent the anger and resentment that had crystalized over the last eight weeks. He wanted to yell at them with everything he had, to lay bare all the crimes their gods committed, all the sins they paid with blood to cover. Desperately he wanted to tell them all the reasons why their Empire was unjust, why their lives should not be sacrificed in vain for a group of galactic parasites.

Yet with every word his mind conjured he heard that wet laughter, so replete with contempt. The blood gurgled labour of lungs that functioned only to hate. He saw only the face of the Sith officer who spat at the freedom Sawyer had offered with the same disgust he would offer a slave.

There was little reasoning with those who remained with the Sith. Little chance of turning veterans of indoctrination. Yet, the smallest part of him still held a small ember of hope.

Through the barrier of snow, dark figures began to appear. Shadows of his troops already working to set up mobile defences. Slowly the veil of white around them began to lift as a bright light began to flicker upon the length of the bridge.

Soon a new howl was added to the backdrop of the cyclone, one underpinned by the mechanical screeching of metal bending under pressure and the wail of muffled sirens. The sounds were coming from behind Cameron, who turned to slide in the snow to break his momentum and bring his gaze to whatever was producing that brilliant glow.

The black visor of his helmet reflected the flickering of fire as he stared up, frozen as the ground beneath him. Before him was the burning husk of what once was a New Imperial gunship but was now transformed into a blazing husk of metal barreling towards their bridge. Explosions violently rocked the gunship's body as it twisted and bent under the pressure of its unnatural velocity.

He was struck with dread as he watched the conflagration come ever closer. The gunship's velocity would easily break through the bridge if it didn't veer off its current course. Another series of explosions ran down its spine, its triangular shape appearing almost like a flaming arrow come to claim its target.

Instinctively his system began to flush with adrenaline, his mind racing with fear. The vector of approach the ship maintained would bring it down behind where Castus had taken up position, at approximately the third-way point of the bridge. There was not enough time to get everyone back across to the friendly side of no man's land. Too many of them would be consumed by the vessel's fearsome power.

"Revenant, get yourselves to Castus' position five minutes ago. We're not letting the others fight those bastards without us." Revenant-actual's level-headed voice broke Cameron from his thoughts.

He lowered his head to look back down the bridge. The outlines of Thorn and Sunder platoon's troopers flickered under the gunship's flight through the barrage of snow the wind brought with it. With a nod to no one in particular, he turned to race the remaining distance to his platoon.

With a slide through the snow, he came to a halt next to two of his soldiers, bumping against the barricade they were crouched behind. The stripes on the first trooper's helmet immediately drew his attention.

"Ori, what's our status?" his helmet's systems distorted his voice.

"We're about done, defences should keep us alive until we're close enough to see the enemy, but with that thing", she pointed towards the gunship's general direction without breaking visor contact, "I don't think we'll have any problem seeing them anymore."

There was frustration in her voice. The bridge ahead of them was beginning to become illuminated just as the section behind them had. Visibility was improving, if only so far as to make out general shapes and outlines. Nonetheless, the added light would rob them of any cover the cyclone was providing, leaving them exposed as they charged.

"Then get moving. The more time we-" Cameron's words were cut off by the distinctive shriek of a blaster rifle.

His head snapped in the general direction of where it came from. Another could be heard, then another. They all came from their bridge, only a couple metres further up towards the Sith side. The first bolt had not flown far, disappearing as soon as it was fired. Those that came after were directed upwards, impacting or flying right past the massive support beams. One finally illuminated its target in a red glow. The black fur of the anubian hounds racing down the metal structure came into view for the briefest moment before being hidden behind its veil again.

"We've got hostiles coming in from above! The hounds, they're starting to engage!"

More of the bolts flew towards the targets above, soon joined by a chorus of others. Combat chatter began to break the silence of their comms as soon even the platoons behind them began to open fire.

Cameron couldn't help but let loose a series of curses as combat began to erupt all around him. No matter what, casualties would begin to mount from this point onward. The blaster fire rang out in all directions, some portion directly targeting the Sith. For Castus, trapped half-way across the bridge, the battle had finally caught up.

The hounds continued to descend from up above, dodging the troopers' fire as they flowed down the support structures like spectres of death. Slowly the troopers of Sunder and Thorn began to trickle in, but Revenant was still catching up further behind.

"Move, move, move!" Came the command of Sunder-actual, soon echoed by the other platoon commanders.

The chaos of war engulfed the troopers. Too many variables for one mind to handle had all conspired to bring about a premature start to their conflict. Cameron sat inert for several moments, turning his head from soldier to soldier in an attempt to grasp every detail of the anarchy that was unfolding. Blaster fire continued to echo from all around him, but his mind had yet to solve the issue of the conflagrating husk still barrelling towards them. They found themselves wedged between the barrels of the Sith's rifles and the blazing death coming from above behind them, all the while undead warbeasts rained down from above to tear them apart with their fangs and claws. Cameron's mind was racing with possibilities and fruitless ideas as he tried desperately to come up with a plan to save them all.

He fell to his side as he felt someone pull him down towards the snow. His gaze shot to his side, finding Ori firmly keeping him behind their cover.

"Stay behind cover, airhead."
 
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// BUCKETHEAD - 3 //
//
MUUNILIST // ASSAULT ON HARNAIDAN // SURVIVE //
// New Imperial Storm Recon Armor Mk. I // KXR SBR-60x Particle Beam Battle Rifle // Tech IL-25X Sniper Rifle //
//
FOCUS // Sam Deckard // Maiven // Belisarius Belisarius // Tessa




Wraith continued his fragmented vigil, peeking out from their makeshift cover at different angles to pop off shots where he could at the closest legionnaires. The sheer number advantage kept both of them locked in place. To make matters worse, they knew it. Rather than stay behind cover, the legionnaires slowly pushed towards the two stormtroopers. Davis took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing while he reloaded the beam rifle in his grasp. He felt at his belt, unlatching a magazine before popping the now used magazine out and to the floor. Wraith slipped the former in place, locking it into position with shaking hands. He couldn't recall a worse situation he'd been in throughout his career of service within the 12th Armored Assault Army or the more recent 1st 'Punished' Stormtrooper Legion. Had it not been for his long-time battle buddy, Davis knew he'd of been dead in the wreckage.
"Three charges, huh? That's a lot of dead S-IMPs," Garrick muttered before pushing up once more. He mounted the rifle onto the desk, eyes snapping wide open in response. Legionnaires covered most of the distance between their initial position and the stormtrooper's cover, now only half a dozen meters out. He rapidly pulled the trigger, snapping from one target to another with reckless abandon. Four legionnaires dropped before an errant blaster bolt caught Garrick by the shoulder and sent him tumbling back behind cover. "Ah, fu-" he closed his hand into a fist and beat down on the burn plates, hoping the continued tension would at least numb the heated flesh beneath. Seeing no success with Garrick's poorly thought out strategy, the scout trooper scooped up his helmet and fitted it over his head once more. Before he could open his mouth to complain, Deckard spoke up.
"Anything to slow these SOBs is more than enough, brother," Garrick called out, his gaze studying the charge's surroundings. "Alright, focus up," he said quickly, snagging the flashbang still resting on the ground beside his first perch. He met Tempest's visor from beneath his own, nodding once. "Flash out!" his arm lobbed the ordinance over the counter. It bounced once, then twice, before a loud popping sound reverberated throughout the entire structure. Wraith shoved Tempest forward, throwing an arm around the heavy trooper's shoulders as he limped beside the larger man. Though slowed down by the bang, it only provided the two stormtrooper's enough time to push past enemy line-of-sight and down an adjacent corridor. Booted feet soon followed after them, the effects of the grenade finally fading away.
"Blow these S-IMPs sky-high, Tempest!" Wraith called out, his attention on the encroaching soldiers as they took up the same cover the two stormtroopers temporarily claimed. One appeared to notice the charge as Deckard activated the device. A much louder explosion ripped through the building, echoing like thunder within the close halls hugging the warring soldiers. Sith-Imperial Legionnaire bodies launched out in several different directions, some still whole, others not so lucky. Plaster and durasteel rained down from up above as massive fissures spread along the walls, floor, and ceiling. The second story began to collapse down on the first, crushing the red-armored soldiers as the two stormtroopers started a mad dash to outrun the falling tunnel. Each step put them ahead of a shameful death until eventually, chunks of the building bounced off their armored form. Thinking quickly, Wraith shoved his heavier compatriot down the right side of a T-intersection, only to dive after him a split second later. Garrick covered his helmeted head and awaited the artificial storm to end before finally picking his head back up.
"Shit man, perfect placement! Thirty-plus tangos KIA," Garrick shakily pushed himself back up, once again helped by Deckard. Their brief celebration ceased almost immediately as the sound of marching soldiers and voices calling out to find them reached their ears. "What's the ETA on evac? We're running out of time here," he groaned out, once more falling onto his battle buddy for support as they pushed down a hall. As they ran, Wraith caught flashes of crimson armor at the corners of his vision, while he could hear them all around them, though not quite yet pushing onto them. "They're herding us somewhere, Tempest. We need to find another way out of here, or we're FUBAR."
 
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// OUTRIDER // Raider Sqd
// OBJECTIVE // Harnaidan
// THEME //
Pushit
// TGA // Loske Treicolt Loske Treicolt
// TSE // Hailyn Hailyn


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It was a brutalist sight, to see the dark abominant before him stood in idle satisfaction as the wings were severed from her form. The violent clash of cobalt against a deep magenta thwarted another of the Concordian's strike making purchase on the fallen Braith Achlys. Surging the blade away from hers for a moment to strike again he was apprehended by the surge of power that Braith draw from the holographic table behind her and projected into a fierce electric storm toward the two.

The energy clinging and wrapping around his armor before plunging around and through his body, his form seized for a brief moment as he fell unto his knees. Disengaging the bright blue kyber ignition of his saber he collapsed letting off a guttural scream of pain which was later drowned out in deep shades of venom to make a bellowing cry of anger from beneath the helmet clasped around him. Only in the last split second of the attack was he able to muster the force around him and absorb the nefarious energy until it dissipated in its entirety.

Getting back unto a kneel he pressed the hand clutching the leather padded hilt of his saber against his knee before he glanced in the direction of Loske. Just as the pain welled up and distributed between the two so did the Concordian's anger, his T-visor gaze briefly glancing toward her to appraise her condition before he lifted himself back up to his, squeezing his thumb against the saber ignition again to spark it alight. They'd attacked sporadically to this point, though overwhelming they necessitated a more cohesive effort if they were going to survive this encounter. Even from the brief displays of power it was clear to Maynard by now that the Firrerro he'd encountered aboard the Vong flagship all but let him slay her. There was no victory to be gained from that. Being the brazen spirit he was, he accepted that. He didn't work all that hard for it to begin with.

>Again...together.< Maynard seemed to channel between them. Even if the playing ground felt more level between the two Jedi and the Titan of the Bryn'adul, they would be damned to continue the same pattern in flurries of rage only to be struck back and repeat again before being slowly ground down. These bouts of rage, they wouldn't help him. Each time he'd bury himself into this fury he'd only hurt himself and by extension hurt her. Even as he'd determined he could sustain the damage before.
Over and over Maynard's life was a tale getting bloodied and beaten into the dirt. Even as he shed tears in defeat, he got back up every time.
But that wasn't Loske's burden to bear. He couldn't let himself be chained by these emotions, this anger and doubt. He'd been enslaved to it for too long. Coursing a deep breath through his body he rolling the hilt of the saber forward along the fingers of his right hand, twirling the blade in a circular motion cutting through the air in heated plasma before he readied himself for another surge into the bout. Letting the force roll over his form he pulled himself forward into the fray again, pulling his blade down from over his shoulder in a downward cut, stepping into the strike as he sought to close the distance between him and the Sith, using the anticipated lock of her magenta blade against his as a fulcrum point to slice down toward the tendrils protruding from her scalp. But he wasn't long into the engagement, seeking to break out of the lock - staying within the exchange only long enough for Loske to join him in the assault from which he'd pounce back in a defensive stance, reading for the Sith's action.

<"They really must give you all a script, huh?"> Maynard shot up, warping that malicious spirit to his will as he continued the fight.


 
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> OBJECTIVE : Harnaidan Get Out Alive Keep Them Busy
> THEMATIC : COLOSSUS
> KIT : Tenebrae Armor / Streiter Vibroblade / BR-212-'Jackal' ACR / BH 'Durin' Charric Blaster Pistol / KXA AFVG-01x 'Void' Grenade / Basic Light Saber / Genesis Ranging Company /
> Focus :
AMCO AMCO Ravraa Vyshraal Ravraa Vyshraal Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter Kardev Byrric Kardev Byrric Avernus Avernus




.."Hah, you have the audacity to violate the Imperial Peace and yet still expect a fair fight? I think not."..

When the silver demon’s hand failed..When her boots hit the cement, so did her knees follow. Armor creaking and hitting with a dull smack. A familiar coldness seeping into her very bones. The pressure of the tyrant’s hand was gone but the damage was done, Lyra’s screech echoed down the lonely back road. The electrical squall flowing from her hands. The arcs of lightning punishing the colossus that had wrought her so low, in her concentrated rage she did not see the second one smoking and squirming. She was standing atop the world gleefully. She had been it before, withering below a cruel hand. The Commander didn’t care, a bloody and choked noise-something that bordered amusement and mania escaping her. Sybila. Drunk upon this, it wasn’t until long after they stilled and by the force-knew they had met their expiration..did her hands fall.

The sixth sense she had ridden out dwindling, and Lyra fell hunched over. The trooper struggled, grasping at the ruined helmet, contusions lacing her head cut further as she finally yanked it off, tearing some hair off with it’. The metal catching her ears and scalp. Red splattered the cement where she dropped the helmet with a hard thwack. Planting her hands out on the ground, her whole body shook. The wounds burned hot against, and the blood dripped down off her chin. Head wounds always bleed profusely. Explosions yielded behind her and her vision doubled and another cough racked her body from the burning smoke choking out the city; burning her nose. In a moment of clarity. Lyra considered her vambrace, clumsy hands slapping the dark buttons until the ruined pack clicked-dropping off her back.


.."Kill her men and leave her for the Legion."..


It was an echo. Whoever it was, she’d see him scre-Dragging her foot up, she planted one boot under herself staring up at the bleak city. There was burnt flesh and she gagged, the stench alone bringing tears to her eyes. One more button clicked on her vambrace injecting the emergency bacta. The needle digging and pinching into her joint. There was suppose to be a counter, and Lyra realized how unprepared she was without the HUD. Blaster fire whizzed past and Lyra jerked down, torn from her thoughts. Something rumbled, something she had missed. Daring to look back she saw the behemoth, but a silver blur-she felt it but her eyes could barely keep up. The third one. A fire team was trained on it, losing hell and all rifles out upon it. She had told them to retreat.

“No,” she croaked, voice foreign to even her own ears, her chest heaving bordering erratic. Her hands scrambled for purchase. Falling forward, she caught herself on the black top as her strength escaped her, flailing and half dragging herself toward position helplessly.

They’d never stand a chance, and her hand shot out grasp at the air. Something shook there, as if she was grasping something and a dark shadow passing over her mind. Grasp it. If she could feel the thing she ought to- a strained noise, a scream bubbled from her throat trying to...there was no more rage just desperation. The weight went like a wisp, like sand passing between her fingers and she had nothing more to give, dragged down with it. Her hands flew to pull her rifle up from it’s strap. Shoving the sights all but to her eye, relax..relax. A heavy exhale escaped her and she pulled the trigger, pelting the behemoth’s back burning out the power cell. As the burst died on it, nothing, she admitted to herself, would work. Cement flew as it smashed through the line and something died inside her; the city street pulverized.

Those were her fucking men.

Dropping her eyes, she stared at the lightsaber strapped to her chest plate, eyes trailing back after the sith piece of fucking-Over her dead body. The rifle fell from her hands, snapping against it’s strap and Lyra crawled forward scraping her knees-pushing herself up to her feet. Her hands were numb, was that normal? Each step she took her legs burned, and blood caught her eye.

Her knee buckled, barely catching herself stumbling over the corpse of the second behemoth. Her senses overwhelmed by the iron tang. One more shaky step followed a second, and her lungs begged her to stop but Lyra pushed herself forward-running down the burning road toward the impact.

The woman’s legs carried her toward the blaster fire, feet beating the pavement. The woman swiped her hand across her mouth, pushing hair out of her vision. A bloody trail left over her palm. Ten meters away..if she stopped now her legs would give out. Through the dust she could see the thing ripping it’s arms, her breath caught in her throat as it hefted up a trooper. Vivid red, blood.. blood poured down it’s arms, a pain shot through her heart as it ripped the ranger apart-eviscerating him. Her stomach churned, gagging-bile crawled up her throat and she coughed on it...

There were golden charric shots sputtering and eskew flying through the air, nothing seemed to keep it down. Pushing herself-It was the only sign she had that one man still lived to fight and she reached out once more. Gritting her teeth until pain took her jaw, her eyes burned and she let out a desperate cry. Her heart beating against her chest, hammering-Another trooper was flung out of the chaos as the thing turned, before pouncing. Screams, she could hear men screaming in their final moments, could taste their death.

Don’t move, almost there, don’t-

It shook, rearing it’s faceless-ugly fucking plated head toward her. Her trooper’s blood coated it’s body, gore clinging to its form and revulsion filled her. It jerked back with unnatural speed, to flee. It was afraid, and she could taste it’s fear. The woman’s eyes narrowed. Good. When she was only meters away, her hand ripped the saber off her chest plate. Thumb brushing the switch, the weight of it was foreign-it was too light. It flickered-igniting in a burning, damning haze before her. The blade crimson. She hit the thrusters on her boots, slamming herself into it, slashing madly.

One strike, the glow of the blade reflected in its armor but the swipe fell short, turning it like a knife in hand she flicked her wrist bringing it back down upon the colossus’s chest, watching it singe the metal and she pressed on.
Not good enough. Her weight off and her feet fumbled beneath her- On the third strike, it glanced off the plate just the same. Slashing an 'x' across it's plates. Ducking on instinct, it's arm swiped past her head. If she had form it’d be considered..questionable and the metal was resisting. Don’t think about the bodies-what's left of them. Renewing her vigilance. She stumbled after the colossus, passing over the blood bath. The Commander batted at it with the lightsaber-baring her teeth at it like an animal. Hunt. Dogging it’s every step, throwing her strikes, catching corners of it until it leaped back. Lyra throwing herself over a cement chunk after it and bringing but another strike down upon it's arm. The saber gliding off, hissing and and leaving a blaken mark.

Everything was humming around her.

They were approaching the same street section, back to the start of it all..Where were the others? Just one squad? Slashing, she threw her weight to the side bringing both hands to the hilt; swinging the blade like a bat. Catching upon it's forearm. It only took one frantic smack from the behemoth in retaliation, it’s hand swinging back catching her in the gut and she wasn’t fast enough; sending her flying. Saber wretched from her hand and Lyra soared back, her eyes falling shut; hitting the pavement and rolling across the road in the gutter. She heard the hilt tink, the blade fizzling out and rolling across the cement out of reach.

..Rarely do careers of our station end gloriously...It will be either from Sith rage or blaster bolt that I see my end..They weren’t her own words but they were apt.

Would they say she fought hard? Until the end? This didn't feel like fighting, just a boot crushing-Consciousness waning, she tried to lift her head-one last blaster popping off behind them. She licked her lips, another cough bubbling and flecked with blood. It didn’t really matter what she did, the behemoth was gone in a blink of an eye and she could hear an ugly snap something sickening sliding across the pavement behind her. Dry heaving, she vaguely recalled rolling over hand raising her hand trembling. Pull, it whispered in the back of her head.

-she was terrified. It was unnatural what followed, when her gauntlet flexed, a blur when she reached not for the gang-man but for the gun saber. Demanding it, pull-ing it through the very air.


.."-draw upon your fear, your passion, and make you so powerful that no one could deny you of anything.-"...

Lyra didn’t know how many minutes passed, the metal trembled there out of the corner of her eye and whistled through the air. Find it, seize it. She caught the lightsaber, a deft weight now-oh she understood. Thrusters spat out at the end of her boots as she swung herself up to her feet. The behemoth tore through the last man, dredging the last of his life, the Ranger's neck was snapped and body hanging oddly in it's hands. It didn’t matter now she was truly alone now.

That should of been her, black spots dotted her vision. If the woman focused focus upon him she'd fall if- Lyra narrowed her eyes. Appraising the silver demon. Shoulders shaking, a low growl escaping her as her rage filled her veins. She'd been aiming for the wrong spots, she just needed one hit. It wasn't a blaster, but she didn't miss her mark and the saber flickered on. Leaping, boots propelling her forward, weightless if only for a moment falling atop the bloody thing like a shadow.

She hooked a hand on to thing's armor, anchoring herself there. Feet swinging under her, planting themselves off of it. She wasn't standing on top of the world, but it would do. A blinding light accompanied by hissing noise sputtered from the saber as she so excruciatingly and slowly drove it through the blacken x she had begun to carve out. It's hand clamping down upon her wrist, tenebrae cracking under the inhuman strength. Fear reeked around her. Lyra stared it in the gore tainted face plate leaning in close.

The force trembled under her hand, and she pushed it, she was scared and she molded it behind her own hand as another crack resounded from her armor. She saw something in the reflection-her own eyes..golden. Her mouth stretching wide and she howled in it's face, she seized the energy around drawing upon the force to push the saber in deeper piercing the angel. The blades heat reflected back at her as it fed cutting through the metal, red hue coating her face. The pressure on her arm rising. A final uglier crack sounding, the colossus hand snapping through her wrist just as she finished burying the lightsaber to the hilt in the thing's chest. When the silver demon’s life waned..When her back hit the cement, so did her eyes follow rolling back. The pain to great and the world falling away from her.




<”This is Evil Eyes One and Platoon. We have eyes on you boys, get down here. We have more friendlies coming in hot, if you can shoot put up, focus west side-if not fall back inside the market.”> a voice crackled over the comms, answering Ravraa Vyshraal Ravraa Vyshraal

The city intersection was dogged down from the north and west sides. An explosion eating up the western approach from a thermal chucked down on the S-IMP’s weaving through the ruins of the streets. The black clad demons contesting the trooper’ foothold, blaster bolts traded between them and the hostiles. Small teams of soldiers skirting out under heat, ignoring the fire fight with radar in hand-scoping out hot pockets that trapped the streets in the northern sector. The local comms were filled with chatter between the fire teams pushing up to cover the explosives teams, bringing the fight to the Blackblades. No roof top was safe and much fire was directed over head, a handful of troopers laid out dead in the road. Spent canisters and ammo cartridges tossed openly between the Rangers; their name sake clad on each soldier’s arm. The Eye of Genesis.


<”Evil Eyes One, this is Genesis Two with Bird Dogs check your map-we’re here four buildings up. Are you ready to receive us?”>

<”Genesis Two how’d-”> the man sounded confused,“ standby for the traffic report.”>

A rocket screamed through the air on the north side drawing the eyes of the troopers, it came from the ruins of a smoking building. Tearing in to the tagged hostile zone that had pinned down the intersection, fire engulfing and blowing out the windows; dusting the upper block.


<”Tangos down. City map got us a way out through some back ways. Now, that was our last care package Evil Eyes One. We have more Legionnaires moving in from the top street and sith scum at our back. I repeat! Are you ready to receive us!?”>

<”Evil Eyes smokes out! Explosives fall back!”>

There was a flurry of footfall at the road center, several troopers moving up. Long arms hurtling out canisters before ducking back down for cover behind the cement barricades, as their left still stood under heat. The men skimming the road for the mines pulling back. Pale smoke trailed through the air, contrasting with the fiery hue set upon the city, the grenades populating and bouncing down the black top. Minutes ticked by, the faint noise of blaster fire echoed up the road, smoke choking out their last shreds of visibility. A stray blaster bolt flying up through the haze.

<”Evil Eyes One, we got a large force moving in on the west road. We can’t hold this position!”>


<”Genesis Two, watch the radar! Iron Orback. Repeat Iron Orback.”>

Unseen from the vantage at the intersection, up the road the combined platoon came pouring out of the shopway, tripping over themselves and troopers armor clanking. The Bird Dogs sprinted down the streetway on the order. The comms devolving into chaos, tossing out encouragement. The radar picking up on the influx of friendlies, blue dots fizzling into existence and from the fray emerging, the most zealous of the troopers throwing themselves over barricades to join their brothers.

One man unlucky as a shot came from the western approach, fell before he could reach cover. Men diving out to drag the body back. In minutes the last of the troopers came backing out from the smoke, the favored verpine and heavy guns firing brazenly back into the abyss on the inbound S-IMPS. The intersection was bolstered by their sister platoon, lending them a hand, punching back at the hostile forces in approach.

It was a short lived victory, they we’re still hanging by the noose.

<”Genesis Two where is the Commander? What are our orders!>” one trooper emerged off the western first teams, shouting. Distinguished only by the ranks of lieutenant across his breastplate. He kept his chin tucked close, helmet down as he took a knee at the center of the intersection. Meeting the Captain that emerged off the retreating charge.

<”She’s drawn off the Sith Shavits, they came out of nowhere. Some of the boys had visuals but their lines just went dead...those things. We couldn’t even touch them with forty rifles, do we have contact with the spear head?”> the Captain spouted off, not stopping to kneel but reaching down to haul up the Lieutenant. The pair of them huddling up bargained a cement chunk, the Lieutenant fumbled to produce a map. Throwing it down between the two of them amidst the rubble.

<”Negative, we’re trying another relay now to the scout’s squad, they’re coasting east. Comms! Throw another test out!-Captain, we have our bird boy trying to get us an airstrike...If we got Sith Spawn in bound-Wait why is the Commander’s emergency beacon on if everyone’s been toasted? Those are manually activated.”> the man questioned, shifting carefully and pointing out on the map where a marker slowly trailed down; tracking the squad. His hand stilling as the cerulean map read a close range marker on the Legion Commander.

Inside the base they had erected inside the shopping market, the support team worked off the back chatter of the comms. An emergency relay was attempted, trying to contact the spearhead Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter and another, well..a struggling trooper, threatening to kick the radio pack-screaming in to the comm ‘d a d d y’ the secondary call sign of Kardev Byrric Kardev Byrric ‘to rain sweet hell down upon the marked coordinates-'. The soldier wasn’t paid enough for that and it drew the concerning gaze of the officers just outside-


<”I don’t know, the volunteer fire team that covered the retreat confirmed she was kicking and then there was an enmass of lightning on her location. They went dark less than ten minutes ago-”> the Captain said, pausing to briskly turn her helm toward the sardined troopers. Smoke was drifting over them as the blaster fire seemed to get thicker, cement chipping under some blasts. <“Heavies! Four of you put a dent in the west flank! Lieutenant, I want the Company prepared to fall back east, get the wounded on the move. We can’t hold this position!”>

The woman threw down a heavy gauntlet hand, hailing down the big boys off the northern fire teams to adjust their bulwark.

<”Captain, if she’s moving we need to send someone back! She’s only a block over, you made it over in no time through the back ways!”>

<”Captain!-”>

<”No! We’re not throwing any more lives out, ten more men are already dead! She gave us an order. We honor it-”> the Captain yelled, reloading her own rifle. Hefting it up and shooting blindly over the barricade down the western street, arms shaking under the recoil.

<”She cut a horde off Aeten Two for you with half a fire team!”>

<”I know that Cinn!”> Appw’rii snapped, dropping the rifle and seizing the man by the shoulder; stilling the fool. The woman’s regret laced her words. <”she knew we couldn’t kill those things! The boys who stayed behind knew it was suicide too and I can't condone anymore. I didn’t wanna do this! If we get caught out now, what time she bought us-”>

<”Ma’am! We’ve got a signal! They-well someone hears us!”> a trooper slid out of the old market interrupting the pair of officers, throwing himself down beside them.

<”Company Retreat! Trooper, relay that airstrike now,”> Captain Appw’rii shouted, muscling her weapon up. The soldiers organizing, falling back inch by inch away as the the S-IMP’s pushed up.
 
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Directly Engaging: Melia Siari
Allies: The Galactic Alliance | New Imperial Order
Objective: Take the Skyhook and High Port Space Center
Location: Muunilinst Orbit



Muunilinst Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard the Starchild II - Bridge


"They're on the move," Garvey said as he zoomed in on the 3D battlespace. He was right of course, but a look out of the viewport and decent eyesight could have told them that. Two of the newer Sith destroyers along with the Bajulator II were headed towards their line and so far it looked like the Alliance Fleet's long-range fire had put a damper on their longbows' fighting spirit. They'd spent the last few minutes moving and maneuvering back and forth to new positions but now it seemed like they were beginning to settle in on their final positions.

"How long until their welcome party is in range of our main turbolaser batteries?" He looked to one of his weapons officers, the one who had command over the Starchild's main batteries.

"About five seconds from optimal range, eight seconds before it turns into a brawl." A brawl? Knife fighting range...That close he knew he'd have the advantage, especially with the Starchild in the middle of those destroyers. Honestly, at that range he could probably ram them in half with the bulk of his Colony if they all flew in a straight line. But no, he wouldn't have the time to make the difficult maneuver work. They'd have to take them on, but maybe the Starchild could still take the brunt of the attack.

"Order the Hyperion and Guardian to form up behind the Mon Cals and get those three in a wide wedge. Its too late for them to get above us but tell them to try and let us be between them and the incoming vessels. We'll be meeting some of their fighters soon too so order the frigates to take up defensive positions around us." He checked his Chrono. Three seconds. "What is Commodore Satou's ETA to position Alpha?" Garvey swiped his hand over the table and raised it, bringing with him a picture in picture holo of the battlegroup of Starhawks and Redeemer-class battlecruisers.

"Not much longer. ETA, two minutes until they can jump. What about their interdictor sir?"

Pryce looked out of the viewport at the series of explosions and laser cannon fire that was the Starfighter meatgrinder. His eyes fell to the tactical and he wondered, not for the first time, if they had enough small firepower to clear out these hordes of droid fighters at least a little bit. They needed more time. "Lieutenant Davis," Pryce called to one of his weapons officers. The man looked up from his monitor, a look of steel in his eyes. "Prepare your teams. You'll have targeting solutions in five minutes." He looked back to Garvey, "Make sure Satou knows there might be a wait on his orders, but to be ready when I say. We pull this off and we deal a devastating blow, but we need to give the corvettes and fighters more time." Both the Lieutenant and the V.I. nodded and set to work.


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Muunilist Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet

Stardust Squadron
Assigned to Carrier Blue Bantha
Stardust 3 - Sam


Stardust 3 pulled hard on the trigger on her steering yoke, not waiting for her targeting computer to tell her she'd got the hit. She flew old Alliance A-Wings in the final days of Operation: Endgame, she knew how to lead her shots and didn't need the welcome but often cumbersome integrated droid brain of her current bird. Military procedure had always been to mind wipe astromechs after a certain amount of time, but because those same regulations made it that the droids were almost always connected at the hip it was more common for pilots to let droids go on with their lives and develop the same killer instinct that their pilots shared. She sometimes wondered how the R-Wing would develop if it was given that same chance, but you couldn't exactly hide your R-Wing from maintenance or "forget" that it was wipe day. They did it in regular starfighter maintenance. It would never develop a quirky personality or tell funny jokes to ease the mood on long recon flights. No, instead what she would get every time was exactly what she was getting now as she held down the trigger, leading her target.

[Miss. Miss. Miss. Miss. Deflector strike. Recommend waiting for full targeting solution to increase accuracy by 80% and increase tibanna gas usage efficiency by 13.76%. Warning. Sith Droid Fighter at your 6 O'clock. Recommend Airman Marquez await targeting-Miss. Miss. Miss. Target has veered away. Recommend waiting for Airman Marquez to await full targeting solutions to increase accuracy by 95% and increase tibanna gas usage efficiency by 19.5%.]

The words trailed down off to the side on the droid brain translation and interaction console to her left. She tried to ignore it.

"Is there a way we can shut off that screen?"


[Warning. Warning. Bandit to your 5 O'clock. Bandit is squaring lock. Recommend flares.] Sam twisted the yoke and pumped the ion engines, sending the R-Wing into a spiral into the inky darkness of space. The trio of droid fighters targeting her and her gunner co-pilot followed, pulling off a maneuver that made her head spin just thinking about the G's that she would have been subject to. Beneath her helmet, her antennae twitched as said G's began to build a tightness in her chest. She pulled up sharply, allowing for a pair of Alliance V-Wings to run into the droid fighters, their lasers already firing on the incoming fighters. That was the only way they would defeat this black cloud, working together to take out groups of the unthinking, unfeeling droids.

"Nice going Stardust 3,"

"Your save on that one Gold 5."

"You'll owe me a-" His V-wing exploded as a pair of the Sith Strike Fighters passed right through the pair of V-Wings.

"Cham!" The surviving V-Wing veered off to give chase.

"Gold 9 wait!" The warning came too late. A large bulbous starfighter spun in behind the grieving pilot and its red laser cannons ripped it to shreds. They could work together to put a hole in the droids...They already had. But them on top of these real true-blooded pilots...That might be too much.


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Muunilist Orbit
Galactic Alliance 3rd Sector Fleet
Aboard Nimbus Gunship Kakarot
Assigned - Agni Kai Escort Group


Captain Morgan, dashing Captain of the Alliance corvette ANV Kakarot was strapped in tight, one hand on the yoke, the other gripping the arm of his captain's chair for dear life. They were deep in the thick of this Black Cloud of fighters now but his gunnery crews were absolutely killing it. Their job was to keep the fighters occupied and boy were they occupied.

"Shields down fifty percent. Starboard auto cannon has taken some damage but the crew says they can fix it in two."

"Make it one," Morgan shouted as he simultaneously attempted to squeeze the small gunship through a hole in the fighter screen pull back from the fighting. He needed to give his crew a chance at fixing that gun. Even one down and they'd be in serious trouble with this many karking mynocks in the stars. The Kakarot shuddered under fire.

"Dorsal deflector just went out!" Great. Just great. So much for the career of the Dashing Captain Morgan.

"Well get it back up!" This. Was. Hell. By the Force he hoped the Admiral had something to change the tide. He glanced up out of the viewport as a massive shadow began to inch its way across their vision. "Well speak of the devil..." The massive bulk of the Supercarrier Starchild II dwarfed the small gunship. Looking up into the cavernous underbelly hangar bays that held Sword Squadron he noticed that while three of the hangars lay empty the remaining three still held the frigates hanging like hawk-bats, ready to pounce.

"Gunship Kakarot, we see you've got some serious damage on you. Fly on up and let's see about getting that looked at and you back out in the fight." Thank the Force.

"Yes sir."
 

Miko Evans

Guest
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Location: Bridge 1
Enemies: Cara Dalgas Cara Dalgas
Allies: Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Obinmiux R'avfa Obinmiux R'avfa

The armored troopers were on them in seconds. Equipped with jetpacks and magnetic appendages they had no problem snatching them from the bridge. He cursed under his breath as they hung over the Great White, the expanse of wind, ice, and snow between them and the ground. He wondered now if his NCO was right and that if he took off his helmet if he would die before he hit the ground from exposure.

" You've got two options here; I shoot you here and now and you become another name on a wall fighting for some nerf herder who doesn't care about you, or you surrender and we take you prisoner...Assuming we all get out of this alive. "

The voice came out modulated, not unlike his own. But something about it sounded colder, more professional, and like she would have no problem butting a bolt in his head or shoving him off the edge of the bridge. He swallowed hard. HIs NCO stepped forward, hand still firmly placed on his blaster but keeping it still in his holster.

"We'll be treated fairly?" He said cautiously, drawing looks from all of the Sith troopers.

"Sarge!" The man lifted a hand up to silence the insubordinate soldier.

"I'm the NCO for this op. You do what I say or I'll execute you myself, now shut up."
 

FN-999

Guest
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OBJECTIVE (426th Platoon): SUPPORT FRIENDLY ARMOR
ALLIES: Belisarius Belisarius | Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar (CO)| Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Sturit Goan Sturit Goan | Other NIO Forces
OPPOSITION: TSE Forces
ENGAGING: N/A
EQUIPMENT: STANDARD
ARMOR AND BLASTERS
PLATOON COMPOSITION: 32/50


The platoon would continue to endure.

Many of their members, like their CO, were First Order veterans. They had seen battle in almost every major population center in the galaxy, and most had even lived through the horrors of Dosunn. They had initially felt conflicted upon joining the NIO. They felt as if they had betrayed their past, betrayed the nation that had given them strength and hope that they could bring order to the galaxy. But just as FN-999 had been reassured, many of his platoon had been taught by recruitment officers what the NIO's values were. The New Imperials and the First Order had a great deal of similarities, and the NIO now had the power to complete what the FO could not. With this in mind, FN-999 and his old squad had willingly joined the New Imperial Stormtrooper Corps. Since then, the newly formed 426th Platoon had shown nothing but excellence.

The platoon had lost sight of Irveric Tavlar Irveric Tavlar minutes ago, but they continued to push the Sith line back. After nearly fifteen minutes of brutal engagement, they had created a breach in the enemy frontline about a hundred meters wide and two hundred meters deep. It had cost them six troopers, but the platoon had confirmed fourty-six kills of their own. After all, nothing less was expected from the 426th.

Using a brief reprieve in the firefight to his advantage, the platoon's 2IC and acting CO pulled out his comms array.


[This is Acting Lieutenant Brackson of the 426th Platoon.] stated Brackson through NIO secure military radio. [We've made a breach in the Sith frontline at our location, no sign of reinforcements yet. I'm sending the coordinates of the breach now. Brackson, out.]


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OBJECTIVE (FN-999): ELIMINATE HIGH-PRIORITY TARGET
ALLIES: NIO Forces
OPPOSITION: TSE Forces
ENGAGING: Mazrim Caide/Taim Mazrim Caide/Taim
EQUIPMENT: IN SIGNATURE, AS WELL AS SBR-60x BATTLE RIFLE


"We'll see about that."

The man had actually blocked FN-999's baton, even in what he had thought was the man's blind spot.

The following shoulder check, while nearly harmless to him through his armor, momentarily staggered him. That had given the man, Marzim Caide, the oppurtunity to pound his left foot into the ground with his right foot. Then, he threw a punch with the arm he had used to block FN-999's baton. He knew the arm was likely weaker than before, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He deactivated his riot baton and threw it multiple meters behind him in an instant before catching Marzim's fist in his right palm. While the force of the impact resonated up his arm, it was likely much less than what would have occurred if he had struck uninterrupted. With his free left hand, he drew a fist and sent an underhand punch arcing up from the height of FN-999's waist towards Marzim's chin, a blow that had knocked out soldiers cold when performed fluently enough and without interruption.
 

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Location: Harnaidan, Muunilist
Objective: Breach Harnaidan's Defenses
Allies: Galactic Alliance, New Imperial Order
Enemies: Sith Empire
Equipment: See bio. (Assets)
Complement: Gideon Raith (Null), x2 Alliance Commando NPCs (Whisper & Dynamo)


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Outer Rim Territories // Obtrexta Sector // Muunilist system
Din's T-visor slowly turns to align with Null as he approaches. Behind the gentle blue glow, he scans Gideon's bloodied face. Seemed they were all lucky enough to survive their glorious entrance. Unfortunately, the real fun hadn't even started yet. Din could only begin to imagine what might be waiting for them in the citadel.

When the Lt. starts to speak, Din can't help but note the stutter once more. He'd passed it off as the alcohol back on Coruscant, but he hadn't caught his CO taking swigs on the shuttle. His mouth flattens into a thin line; he wasn't sure how to feel about the revelation.

Din nods to the suggestion of pressing on, then gives the armoured plated of his left thigh two sturdy slaps. The entire limb was close to numb now that the injections had kicked in,
<"I'll be fine. I'm all dosed up on stims, so ya don't gotta worry about me. Besides; it's only Sith, right?">

<"And that's 50 credits each,">
he corrects, the unseen wink that'd accompany the words implied by his tone. Pulling his rifle close to his chest, the Commando begins to limp in the direction of the smoke plume. As he moves to pass Gideon, he reaches out and slaps a hand on the Lt.'s shoulder <"Don't worry, Boss. I'll make sure we square up.">

Fueled by bacta, adrenaline and anxiety, Din hobbles his way forward with little acknowledgement of the pain that still remained. With the shuttle crashed, they'd essentially launched a massive flare to announce their position. Sigma would have to keep on their feet if they wanted to put some distance between them and any Sith-Imperial response force that might detour to give them hell.

<"Nothing like the HALO simulations, huh?"> he jokes with a wince stalling his words at each step.

Muttered curses and groans avoid detection by his helmet's anunciator as the two scale a slight incline to reach the plateau that their shuttle had gone down on. A bit further ahead and up several more inclines, the fortified walls of Harnaidan stretch high above. Din paid them little attention; his focus was on the smoking wreckage of the
LR/FA and the busted breachhole of the subterranean citadel.

With the risk of enemy fire increasing as they draw closer, Dare presses himself behind the cover of some stone debris that had crumbled from a cliff face in the detonation. Facing ahead of them with his rifle at the ready, his eyes look to the 360 FOV video feed in his HUD to spot Gideon behind him,
<<Null & I have reached the target. Waiting to regroup before advancing.>>

<"Alright -- I let the rest of the boys know we're in position. Now we wait,">
he says out loud, knowing that Gideon had no access to their squad comms without a helmet.

 
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Alis'ila'miurani - Captain of the Ch'avset'ecsi
Location: Bridge One, Southern Mesa Towers, Mygeeto
Objective: Eliminate enemy forces, Reinforce the Sith-Imperial front
Equipment: CDMR-02, 2x Scorpi-0s, Shadowkat Suit Mk II
Complement: 20x Chiss Commandos, 275x Chiss Regulars, 5 AT-11s
Allies: The Sith Empire | Taeli Raaf Taeli Raaf Aerarii Tithe Aerarii Tithe Madelyn Lowe Maro Dansk Obinmiux R'avfa Obinmiux R'avfa Jyon Hlervu Jyon Hlervu Amur Lark Darth Kados Lirka Ka Lirka Ka Darth Ophidia Maiven
Enemies: The NIO | Imperial Warlord Zovesa Imperial Warlord Zovesa Vaulkhar Vaulkhar Darth Bellum Darth Bellum Darth Kentarch Avernus Avernus Gat Tambor Jekadius Lawson Ignis Imura Kyrel Ren


The battle raged on as both sides of the conflict continued their fight valiantly.

The Chiss Ascendancy forces among the Imperials fought as hard as one expected a chiss soldier to. Some even harder. With each shot of their charric rifles, bolts of blue flew across the bridge at their targets, bringing those that were hit a painful demise. Alis'ila'miurani continued to remain at the rear, spectating the battle as she awaited the proper moment to advance alongside her commandos.

One commando walked up to the Aristocra's side to speak. "Ch'eo ren'musen'i. To Ect'aseo en'can'sah ch'at bacsa to tun'ci. Csei s cart ch'a g'esben'ir nah csivcevi, rab ch'acacah cakavcez rah etah sat cart ch'at nor bakan'bah. Csican, Ch'ah cart tsarviuh vatvo to ch'iticev csarcican't cssuzah ch'atah cseah bah ch'an'cio'an'er ror nen."

Sila looked to the sky and gazed at the frost storm up above. "Vah cart vusavco. Csei s cart etah bicit vim Ch'ah hsr'ah nah bevcah veah etah k'ir hah. Nah cart nor cseah s ch'at vatt'ah etah can veo ch'amn etah bapun. Non, Ch'ah bapun vah ror veo hisbah. Veo Ch'ah bun to rehn'e'ehah, vea hsr'ah cart bitbo, nah ch'islah." She raied her hand to her chin, resting it just beneath her jaw. "What are these Imperials up to? Wait ... What's this?"

Sila paused her whispers as she could see a Sith engaging an invader. Alone. "Very interesting. Not very often I get to see something like this. Vucin'bi, tihn k'ascah ch'acan't. Cant nah tuzir himn'ah vatvo rsah ror neo ch'iticev bicit rceti sir carcun'co cavnicit."
 

Tessa

Guest
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Location: Economic Tower Resata w/ Shatter Squad
Objective: Capture Economic Tower Resata
Allies: Konrad Bolter Konrad Bolter | Sturit Goan Sturit Goan
Enemies: Open
Thematic Music: Danger - 88:88
Gear: Body | Armor in Digital Urban Camo | Pistol | Knife | 1 Smart Grenade

She reached the third floor with little difficulty. The hardest part was walking over the bodies of those she'd killed in her climb to the top of the tower. There was no remorse felt for them. No hatred, either. She detested what had happened to her squad, but the two responsible had already been dealt with. The rest of them were just unlucky sods that had happened to get between her and her goal. They were soldiers doing their job just the same as she was. She could respect that. She didn't like them, but she respected them for being willing to throw down their lives in defense of what they believed in.

Lenses was still unconscious as she came to a pause. Somewhere down below there was movement. No other NIO forces were supposed to be coming to the tower as far as she was aware. That meant there were likely some Sith patrol that had happened across the bodies she'd kicked out into the street. They probably were curious and had come to see what they could do about whoever it was that was in the building.


<"Understood, Shatter Actual. Group with Feral Company we need a need another breakthrough into the city, understood?">

<"Copy, Engima Actual. Proceeding to Feral's location.">

Fighting through the forces below was a possibility, but she was almost certain it wasn't the best choice. With Lenses heavily injured and across her shoulder, she only had one arm with which to fight, and a blaster with which to do it. Taking on a full squad at the moment would put the both of them at risk, and though she was certain she would be fine, she could not guarantee that Lenses would survive the encounter, which ruled out a direct engagement. The only option she had was a stealthy extraction from the building that allowed her to avoid a fight altogether. Not the most desired of choices, but she would take it.

She proceeded into one of the bars on the third level, which was technically four stories up from the ground. Crossing to the exterior, she peered down into the street below through one of the full glazing panels. She could see a few enemy units in the street below, but most importantly she made out enemy armor. That path was not open to her. She tried the other side of the building and found the street relatively clear. The window was made of polycarbonate. It wasn't easy to break but could be broken with enough force. And sure enough, she had the force to do so.

Fortunately polycarbonate didn't shatter the way true glass did. When it fell to the street below, it was in larger chunks that made far less noise, though she was certain it would draw attention. As such, she swiftly jumped through the opening and fell the three stories to the ground below where she landed smoothly on her feet, though the ground gave way to create a small crater beneath her. The benefits of a robotic body were great. She certainly didn't lament the loss of the one she'd been born with.

"Hold on, Lenses. I'll get you out of here," she said before taking off at a sprint across the street and down the first alley she came to.

Getting out of sight was the first order of business. The second was getting into contact with Feral Company.

<"Shatter Actual to Feral Actual. What's your pos? I say again, what's your pos. Over.">

Concealed behind a trash bin deep in the alley, she lowered Lenses to a seat and crouched down beside him. She needed a moment to get her bearings and needed to hear back from Feral about their position before she could figure out how they were going to get out of where they were and make it back to a friendly group.
 
A Light Shining in Darkness
Dun Moch was the most widely utilized, and most poorly done, ability Wyatt came across from the Sith. It didn’t matter if it was an acolyte, or a Sith Lord; when blades were drawn, many thought their tongue just as sharp, full of wit. Wyatt heard the Emperor’s tone, and were he younger, a padawan or knight, he may have felt that momentary disbelief - to consider his words amid the combat.​
But Wyatt was no child, and he was certainly not a fool.​
The man who speaks of traitors in our midst, can’t even identify the ones in his own…”, Wyatt smirked - though cold as it was - just as the Emperor shoved against him.​
The Force, however, spoke to Wyatt of the future - seconds ahead of what was to come at all times when he was focused. He took the shove with grace, helping to negate much of its impact, before pulling up his blade to catch the Emperor’s lightning - rabid and bloody, an extensive of the darkness that rested deep inside the titan. Wyatt could feel its pressure, knew that so long as it held him down; there would be trouble for Locke.​
There was a momentary peace of that - knowing that if the Emperor escaped, there would be less of a chance to take him down later. Triumvirs, Pillars, they could attempt to fill his spot - but it was the Emperor the Cult of the Sith was surrounding now; and should the head fall from the necrotic body, the rest would spread, separate, and fight amongst themselves for the position of control.​
For all his personal qualms, Wyatt knew this had to end here - and broke a sacred tenant in his heart. Wyatt’s eyes opened, and his once calm gaze became something darker as Carnifex would feel the circuit he had created between them; Lightning breaking free from Wyatt’s saber and spreading back to the Emperor in full force. Vaapaad, the more refined and arguably more dangerous form, became him - and through him, it became the light that eviscerated the darkness.​
Wyatt’s feet took him forward as he could feel that circuit, every few moments its darkness breaking free from his control and licking at his once Mandalorian heart. Quiet as it was, he could feel that anger he once did over his wife and son, the monstrous fury he had to bury almost a century before - to become the Jedi he was now. While he was the torch that destroyed the darkness, his light cast shadows of its own that grew with the moment - something even Carnifex could likely feel through their forced connection.​
And it began to blind him from Allyson’s emotions - blinders on the once all-seeing Grandmaster.​
 

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