Location: Hoth -
Outpost Veers - Improvised Imperial Trenches.
Allies: The First Order, The Galactic Empire, [member="TK-4261 Strain"], [member="Shaydae Desmaris"], [member="Chron Terix"], [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Sol Stazi"], [member="Aver Brand"], [member="Tomas Yarrow"]. [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="HK-36"]
Personal Loadout: See Signature and Squad Loadout Below.
Squad Loadout: FO-02 Stormtrooper Armour - Snowtrooper Variant,
Z6 Riot Control Baton,
SE-44c Blaster Pistol,
Charric/
Maser Rifle,
FWMB-10 Repeating Blaster,
MPL-23 Missile Launcher,
Concussion Grenade(s),
Bio-Metric Thermal Detonator(s),
G-20 Glop Grenade(s), Combat Vibroknives.
“The universe has many horrors yet to throw at us. This is not the end of our struggle. This is just the beginning of our Crusade to save Humanity. Be faithful! Be strong! Be vigilant!”
- The Emperor of Mankind, Attributed. Collected Visions Page 367.
Once, in the age long forgotten by the coming darkness of Old Night, Echo Base had stood the proverbial heart of the Rebellion against Palpatine’s Empire. From the lawless Outer Regions of the Galaxy, the Rebels were able to wage a myriad of campaigns against the supposed Tyranny of the Ancient Empire. It wasn’t long until the Empire had found their secret base, and when the data from that one probe droid had been transmitted - mere seconds before it’s destruction - their Might had been unleashed. Blizzard Force fell upon the surface of Hoth with all the fury and precision expected of an Imperial Vanguard. They stalked the frigid plains before their Target with purposeful strides, as their Mechanical Pachyderms marched implacably forward towards their unseen legacy.
Now, what had once been the festering heart of the Rebellion, was replaced with the Indomitable Barbican of Imperial Steel. Echo Base was no more. It was renamed to Outpost Veers, and until this moment had served as a Vehicle Depot for the Two-Hundred and Fourty-Second Armoured Division of the First Imperial Army. Imperial High Command had thought it was Ironic, and set about making this ancient symbol of defiance into a mockery of its ashen legacy. Perhaps it would break the spirit of those who sought to assail this fearsome bastion - or have the opposite effect and spur them into greater feats of imagined heroism. It was of little concern. They would throw themselves to their deaths, painting the ivory snows beneath their feet a vital shade of crimson.
Hoth would bathe in Alliance-sworn blood before the twilight hour had come.
As the alarms rang throughout the Anoat Sector, like the pagan war drums of old, the First Order and their newfound Allies had set about reinforcing their holdings with a sprawling network of trenches and - most interestingly - improvised bunkers. With Outpost Veers having a large complement of ancient AT-AT walkers, those that had taken Operational Command of the Base had elected to use their old symbols of war for another nefarious purpose, rather than acting as the mounted cavalry of old. Let those that served under General Terix have the honours of sallying forth to meet the enemy head on. The First Order would entrench themselves further and further into the Outpost - making it suicidal for anyone that sought to dig the Imperials out.
With their legs curled in upon themselves, these timeworn walkers would plant themselves on the surface of Hoth, and partially retract their troop compartments, providing the soldiers that took root within a measure of protection against the coming onslaught. The pilots remained within the armoured cockpits, utilizing their archaic armaments to add their firepower to the impressive arsenal at the Imperial’s disposal. They would hold against whatever the Alliance and their Gods sought to bring. They would stand their ground and defy those that attempted to lay claim to this world. Let them bring their foul word of liberation. Here they would face free Men and Women. Here they would fight against those that believed in the Imperial Truth. This world would be their grave.
Letting his lips curl into a prideful smirk, Sergeant Torian Pierce of the First Legion - Stormtrooper Corps, cast his gaze out across the frozen plains before what was once Echo Base. He had heard the briefings and was even invited to participate when the warning sirens began to wail. The man had recalled standing sentinel before the hololithic table with his arms crossed before his chest, viewing the force disposition and assisting his commanders in determining the Alliance’s assault routes. They would choose Outpost Veers, not because of it’s historical significance, but because of it’s strategic location. It would offer those cretins the opportunity to establish a garrison on the surface and assail the base of the Order’s hold on this frigid world.
That meant this Outpost would soon become a Firebase, one that would ideally break the relentless war machine of the Galactic Alliance. He even remembered the outcry from several of his Commanders when he had suggested using the Walkers as Improvised Pillboxes, how they raged against the proposal. It was probably the very reason why his Company had been assigned to the Frontlines, and why they had been charged with Overseeing the defence. The Sergeant had to suppress a bout of laughter as his men were dismissed. He would show them his worth, and they would know his name. The Saviour of Hoth. The Hero of the Order. He who fought against the impossible, and proved that even Gods could bleed.
With a heavy hand clamping down on his secondary pauldron, drawing him forth from his delusions of grandeur, Torian’s crimson shrouded gaze was drawn towards one of his Squad’s Troopers. Like himself, the man was clad in a variant of their standard issue armour that was enhanced to withstand the harsh temperatures of the frozen world. The outskirts of his visor had filled with a scrolling feed of data that threatened to steal his attention away from the all too familiar face. Why would he care about where the modification packages to the armour were manufactured? What did it matter to him to read about this Trooper’s service number or his spotty record? Blinking in quick succession, forcing his visor to dematerialize the scrolling feed of data, Torian’s eyes refocused on the soldier before him.
“How’s the rest of the Squad?” He asked, his voice carrying a measure of pride.
“They’re eager, Sir. Some of them are muttering about the stalled Taskforce that was sent to aid us at Skor II, and how they want vengeance.”
Torian nodded, before casting his gaze back out towards the mist-shrouded horizon.
“Good,” He said, letting the prideful smirk fade into a thin-lipped smile.
“We’ve got a lot to atone for. Hopefully, we can wash the stain on the Legion’s armour away with blood.”
“Hopefully, Sir. If not, we’ll die-”
Interrupted by the distant wailing sirens, the two Trooper’s instinctively turned their gaze towards the crystal-bound heavens above. The Alliance had come. They had managed to push through the Indellian Gateway, despite the ambush that laid in wait, and now orbited the pseudo-fortress world of Hoth. There was no doubt that their Navy had engaged the orbiting flotilla of Imperial vessels and defence stations, however - even though this world was well-defended - not every square inch could be defended from attack.That meant there would be Landers, carrying either entire formations of soldiers or war machines. Torian grinned.
“We’re Soldiers, Bishop,” It felt odd using the man’s warname, even more so that his hand was still planted atop his secondary pauldron.but the Sergeant was slowly starting to accept the degree of familiarity in which he addressed his men and women.
“Death is a certainty. All that ever changes is the where and when.”
“Now rejoin the men. We’ve got ourselves a siege to prepare for.”
Parting ways, with the soldier affectionately named Bishop taking his post within the Iron-shod corpse of a semi-prone AT-AT, Torian turned back towards the sapphire-hued skies. Though he couldn’t see the opening stages of the battle above Hoth, a part of him wished that the Order’s Naval Forces were able to funnel their foe’s landers towards the surface. Where they would deposit their troops into the killing fields, and allow the combined forces of the Galactic Empire and the First Order to reap a bloody toll against their enemies number. His hand began to itch. The urge to hold the Mortalis started taking root, sending nervous spasms through his fingers. He was glad that he was alone for the moment. The rest of his Squad didn’t need to see the echoes of madness that gripped their Sergeant tight. They already knew of his rising temper, and how he seemed to tense at the slightest provocation - even the gesture from before had caused a tremor of anger to flicker through his veins.
With the booms of entry resounding overhead, the Sergeant turned about on his heels and descended into the interior of the improvised Bunker, and watched his fellow Snowtroopers take their firing posts. Their billowing thermal kama’s flowed smoothly behind their armoured forms as their rifles were leveled, and the pintle-mounted Megablasters were scanning the horizon for targets. Warning sirens sounded again, followed swiftly after that by the percussive detonations of Anti-Air munitions, replacing the silence that threatened to hang over the defensive emplacements like a deafening shroud.
:: Sergeant Pierce! :: A voice called over his suit’s encrypted comms, drawing the Snowtrooper’s gaze away from the chaos ensuing in the skies above.
“This is Pierce, Go ahead?” The man said, hoping to draw out the purpose of the Interruption. The Suit’s internal systems had showcased the signal coming from within Outpost Veers, and that the name rune had marked the speaker being one Specialist Trynn.
:: Sir, Staff Sergeant Desmaris is requesting your presence in the armoury, on the double. ::
He scoffed.
“Are you serious?"
The reply was delayed a moment, as if the brutish and blunt retort had caught the speaker off guard, but played over his suit’s internal comms system nonetheless.
:: Sir, the request was made with high priority, She-::
“I don’t bloody care what that woman wants. I’ve got a fight on my hands. Would you like me to tell the Supreme Commander himself that one of his Stormtrooper’s had abandoned his posts, during an active engagement, to rush along the barricades, so that he can fulfill the requests of a bloody Quartermaster?”
Without waiting for a response, Torian severed the encrypted link and turned back to the chaos at hand. Transports began filling the horizon, laden with troops and mechanized armour, while dark - armoured figures rocketed towards the frozen surface. Yeah. There was no way he was abandoning his post. Not now. Not when things were starting to look like fun. That was when the shooting started closer to home. Mass-reactive detonations rippled through the battlefield, stitching the adjacent improvised Bunker with exploding concussive blasts. More ear-splitting reports riddled the bunker, tearing through the reinforced durasteel plating and connective cables that sheathed the immobile walker’s neck.
What came next had filled the Snowtrooper’s mind with barely constrained excitement. An aetheric ripple tore through the air, that matched no known sonic weapons, but fell into the realm of impossibility. A Force-cursed soul, perhaps one of the New Jedi Order - or maybe even one of the vaunted Eldorai Firemane? Whatever the case may be, Torian believed that a worthy challenge had finally come forth. With a savage grin adorning his lips - the Snowtrooper watched as the wave of aetheric energy tore into the snow before the semi-circular line of improvised bunkers. A snapshot, even with the mystical nature of the Force, was unlikely to connect with anything of note; especially when one was rapidly descending in an armoured coffin. These were notes that his helmet recorded and would possibly prove useful later on when - and hopefully if - the Sergeant’s armour could be recovered.
“Hold the line!” The Snowtrooper called out, letting small trickles of spittle spray against the bottom portion of his tactical visor.
“Let them come to us, then light ‘em up!”
