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Starlin was already leaping out of the way when the laser hit, blades out, ready to do battle with the Bryn tank—
Except he never got his chance. An explosion rocked the ground beneath him with concussive force, obliterating the beast’s legs in the process. Starlin landed a ways away, narrowly avoiding being hit by the blast himself. He looked around for the shooter, and found that it was none other than Maple, the woman he’d met in the tunnels.
"Head on a swivel, kid! Might not be there next time..."
“You could’ve killed me!” he exclaimed. But she was already passing him by, ignoring him for the most part as she spoke to one of the Neutralizers.
Jaina meanwhile halted before Gerard, standing in silence as he explained the problem. She had not seen any worms thus far, but was aware of their existence through her databases on past battles with the Bryn’adul. Perhaps then it was not prudent of her to aim for an underground hiding place. Then again, had the tunnels they were using to lead the civilians out in the first place not been underground as well?...
Starlin trotted over to her, not sure of where else to go. “Who do these people think they are?” he asked, his tone agitated now that he had realized Maple was part of Laertia’s forces.
“They seem to have a better handle on things than we do,” Jaina replied.
“They’re doing most of the work, and without much warning,” Starlin grumbled. “Are they even really communicating with the rest of our forces? Or is it more ‘hey Jedi, we’re going to do this and you can’t stop us’ and then immediately doing it, regardless of who gets killed in the process?”
Jaina was silent for a few moments. Finally she said, “It’s the nature of war. Every battle is going to be chaotic, and nothing will go completely according to plan.”
“But the very least we can do is try to minimize casualties—and don’t hurt anyone else in the process.” Starlin was distracted by the sight of Maple gathering corpses for some sort of blood ritual. Was she one of those Cult witches Laertia had allied herself with? The same witches whom Starlin had cleansed in the past during his training with Syd? From the looks of things, it seemed like a possibility.
He was on the verge of marching over and demanding to know who and what she was when Maple called out, asking for Jedi teleporters. A knot like a fist formed in his gut, and he almost didn’t answer.
“I do,” he replied. “But it’s sand-based teleportation, normally only useful in a desert.” Not that there wasn’t plenty of dust lying around from all the rubble. “What do you want me to do?”
It was pure chaos. There seemed to be no method to the madness as several armies worked alongside each other with no superior command over each other. It shouldn't have worked but no one needed to be told what to do. They shared this galaxy together. They weren't just fighting for Sev Tok but for every world like her. Many of the people fighting for their cause didn't care about the Concord but the fight was much more than the Concord verses the Bryn'adûl - this was humanity's fight.
It wasn't totally unexpected to see Cas at the battle but after not seeing him for several years it was still unusual to see him again. "I think everyone is." He replied, owing it to his voice amplifier from his helmet to cut through the noise of battle.
There was no time to catch up as no sooner than he arrived was he plucked from the air and dropped onto the floor with a grunt as he instinctively took the impact in a roll. While on the floor, he quickly game to the realisation that his electronics had been deactivated and became suddenly aware of the sound of his own heavy breathing which reverberated within his helmet which was now unable to filter in noise from the outside world.
Without the electronic components of his armour, he was trapped in a shell of beskar with little to aid his sensory functions which was incredibly dangerous for the Hapan who relied on his HUD for vision. Now that was removed, when his gaze moved upwards from the floor, all he could see was the glow of a lightsaber out of the corner of his eye.
While still coming to terms with what was happening, he heard Cas' voice shout his name. It sounded distant, almost dream-like, but after comprehending what was said, he drew a proton grenade and launched it in the direction as suggested by Cas. It was indiscriminate but he hoped any allies would be able to use their sight to their benefit to evade a grenade sent in their direction.
Despite the encasing of near impervious beskar, the Mandalorian felt particularly vulnerable without the safety of his electronics. Without them, he might as well have been wearing no armour as he had no way to combat any oncoming adversaries aside from with information he was fed by his sighted allies.
With few weapons to rely on, he drew the vibro-blade, which was still sharp at least, in place of the more traditional blaster. As his frustrations grew, he considered removing his helmet to allow for a better sense of his surroundings through sound at least. For now, he focused on the glow of the lightsaber ahead. With that he knew where his ally was and could plan accordingly.
Yek Trell lost the subject, clearly they moved fast enough to avoid further detection. It wouldn't matter, plus having lost Alkmet in his effort to pursue meant they were divided in the worst way. Still, Yek trusted in the force much like he trusted his kin. Even now he could feel the slight tension of the lightside trying to find it's way to the heart of the ship.(Dagon Kaze
& Yula Perl
) He wouldn't allow it. Chances were they were already on the ship as he found his way back into the same opening he came from. The force tickled his curiosity, the Jedi had arrived sooner than he thought. The Aeravalin sniffed the air, the thick putrid stench of the corrupt hung in the air. Yek smelled it before, he knew it better than most other Ashaka. The Epitaph carefully spoke to him, the clinging sounds of the remain Kraemenon alerting him of the unwanted guests. With haste Yek Trell traversed the Burrower, his mind racing of all potential thoughts. The most pressing one flooding him mind like a disease.
Don't be dead Vedkar...
The Ashaka Battlemaster continued forth, the glaring issue presenting itself at other end of the hallway. Two Jedi (Yula Perl
& Dagon Kaze
), already in the motion of a retreat. Yek Trell could feel them in the force their influence that of a bursting vulnerability. He licked his jagged teeth beneath his angular jawline. Thick crusted burns presenting themselves as he opened his maw. Each scar a collection of reminders, reminders that the Jedi were capable, but not infalliable. As much as they tried to play the protagonist of every story, their false angelic presence wouldn't work on The Bryn. It never would. Yek Trell watched before the elevator came barreling down, the opposite end of the ship forcing the two victims backwards, right at him. Their sprint that of a concerted effort. He waited patiently, before he shifted his armns upward, ready for a fight. His disgust bellowed through the hallway at both of them.
"You die here, you chose the wrong ship to infiltrate!" Yek Trell screamed it, alerting any others amid the Epitaph.
The scream came in a fury, breaking the contemporary silence of the core room. The voice that of an older Drael. Vedkar knew that voice, Yek Trell. It would be only a matter of time before other enemies someohow found a way into the gorgeous Burrower, The Epitaph. It had been a creation of excellence in collaboration of the Kraemenon and Drael technology. It was a pillar of allied minds, a structure that spoke volumes of how far the Bryn had come. Vedkar couldn't let the little mice freely roam it, instead he moved his right arm. The searing pain had slowly subsided, enough that he could actually use it. practicing the Ashaka Arts was another story. Still, he shifted his weight and began to call on the force. The pain lingered even more now, his arm sifting through the air in a circular motion. He counted, the numbers that left his mouth in a declining pattern. But before he could finish, an incredible explosive roar erupted through the outside of the ship. Large pieces debris slamming into the outer walls of the Epitaph. The shock wave knocking Vedkar flat on his back. A slight groan escaped him, his eyes looking up at the status of the damage. It was close, an entire section of the outer wall completely decimated from the Seismic bomb that had gone off.
He did the only thing he could do before fighting to stand, his body still weak from the creation of the scarlet dome. He placed his hand on the mindstone and through the force it assisted his message.
Heavy damage on the lower deck, several gaping holes detected. One is eight hundred feet from the core room, if they find a way down to the lower deck from mid deck, we could be at extreme risk. Alkmet, Vedkar... Be quick.
Alkmet froze, she couldn't commit to it. Plus, she never faced an enemy with the same capabilities as those in the Ashaka. Regardless, she felt a sense of disgust, not even for the enemy, but herself. To be Drael, was to be strong. Something she was having more issues with than the fact that she could actually conjure a form of magic the Ashaka taught her. It sucked, worse than that...others relied on her to do her job. She knew being created through un-natural means meant that she should've been able to have the same vicious nature many of the other Draelvasier were capable of . She question it many times before this, but here and now...the answer lied beyond something far more complicated than how she was born. She tucked her self beneath the Epitaph, crouching making sure the invaders couldn't see her.
Coward.
The thought taunted her. So much so, she slid through the large makeshift beams of the Epitaph's drill. The radesh oil that hadn't fully been used, dripped off of it, staining her hands with a smell that reminded her of grease. She climb to the hatchway, the door lifted as her heart paced itself, beams of firepower bouncing off the drill. It was hell out there, but nothing was worse than being a scared Aeravalin. She felt like she didn't belong, but her powers were so destructive they demanded her to heed the call. Plus, the first time she had experienced it, made her feel alive. It came at a cost, a cost of another's life. She grinned, considering it before pressing her hands downward as she slipped up into the long corridor. She wiped herself off and as she slammed the hatchway closed, the Quilxyn floated to her side. A deep sigh left her, the comfort of being safe in the Epitaph calming her racing heart.
A chill shuddered through her, the force alerting her of an anomaly far too close to not be dangerous, the last resounding voice she could remember sprung to life.
Sylok felt the twitching itch of his healed wound. Amidst the hellfire of colliding forces, he made an attempt to spread a small group of soldiers, each sending flurries of mixed crimson and emerald bolts. The darkened areas of the battlefield made it more difficult to tell where most other fire was coming from, let alone the little fiasco Sylok had just dealt with. He would no longer be caught off guard, his vision heightened, his focus tunneled for the weaklings. Sylok's arms began to delicately move. A surge of threading provided by the force wove itself into a creation of pure raw energy. Sylok grinned, his hate for the Jedi had grown in the years he fought alongside the Ashaka. They were the worst.
This very night, he would get another trophy for his bone made belt. The small indents of each white and grey scaled bone, that of a memory and trophy. Each scribed, by a Scripter for him to relive the kill. It took him a while to get used to it, given the Scripters were significantly rare. What he never got sick of...was the kill itself. In fact, despite his logical analysis, it brought him a sensation of strength. It had been missing, for as long as he could remember. He was always different and lived through the taunting alphas of his society, mainly due to his size. Of course, it had changed, his gift in the force giving him more respect than he ever thought he would have. Ironically, his enemies would come to do the same. In a flash of pure hatred, a wall of invisible energy split the group of antagonizing troopers apart. They were laggardly thrown from the comfort of the ground, many slamming and bashing their heads into the stone surroundings behind them. The sight was so violent, spurts of blood sprayed outward on impact, leaving the bodies contorted and mangled.
The clearing gave him the perfect opportunity to reach Osam
. Locked in a fight with a Jedi (Cadere
) & and a armored Mandalorian.(Zephyr Krayt) Sylok considered it a disadvantage, although, Osam had become a warlord. It was feat that was only awarded to Baedurin or Aeravalin...at least that was how it had always been. In truth, Sylok respected the newly appointed warlord. The Weaver could feel it back then on many occasions in battle, the heavy implications of the Risen. Even now, facing off against most of the enemy forces with the squadrons under his guidance. Let alone the fruitful leadership he displayed fighting two adversaries on his own. Sylok shifted his attention toward Osam, running to his aide as the carbine released a blazing threat toward the flying threat. The crackle was a new sound to his ears. It wasn't common for him to be near the newly developed munitions of the Bryn. Despite that, he appreciated the visceral power escaping the barrel.
"Warlord, I'm here."
Those were the only words spoken, before the Ashaka faced the Jedi. He watched as the enemy dismantled a Syphon, but at the expense of being thrown backwards by the death of the creature. The blast seemed to shove the Jedi closer to Sylok. In the mere seconds of the Jedi's expectations, he might find himself in the worst situation possible. The Weaver stepped back. He could feel Osam against his back, they would both kill them. Back to back and hand in hand. Just before Sylok called on the force, a shockwave (First Seismic Charge From Truck Laertia Io
) riddled through the debris around them. Stone lifted along with the sandy ground, but before large pieces of rock took the Weaver and Warlord. The Ashaka's fingers split apart. The twisting motion created a small sheen of protection. The stones that slammed into them evaporated into a dust, before drifting away by the early morning wind.
Maple looked at Starlin Rand
as he stepped forward, clearly grumpy at having Xiphos's point rearing it's ugly head like a sore on a buttocks.
A lot of Jedi in the evac area were looking at the messy moral situation. They kept refusing the willing help of sworn enemies yet here, at possibly one of their most desperate hours, said enemies came to them willingly and without complaint, ignoring the condemning looks.
To say the least, for quite a few, it complicated what had originally been a simplistic view of The Black Knight as an insane traitor. For many Jedi, hardened against her by the loss of friends at The Black Knight's blade, that perception didn't really change.
But even they could not ignore the fact that vast numbers of Bryn'adul were dead because of what she had done here.
The ground rocked as a second Seismic charge was set off in the dome.
"I want to enhance the power of that spell. Teleport a large number trapped on the other side through anything passing for sand over to this side, but I need an effective spell and an effective channel for it. We need to act fast, or whole lot more people are gonna die."
Maple drew the Calculus Symbols for 'multiplication' in Drael Blood. The symbols looked like the ones Syd had used to interfere with Tegan's spell on the Mercy, so if he had good memory, he might recognize some of them.
She had Nuetralizers write other circles of runes in Drael Blood on bare patches of ground, communicating with those on the other side via hand signals to break down rubble to sand like consistency, which they did frantically behind the meager cover of Verikast plated Corpse barricades, away from the magical breach that Maple had created yet was very close to it, hundreds of evacuees frantically pouring through and away from the Epitaph. Gerard signalled the cruiser to lift off and come here. Women and children were first priority.
"I need you to sit there. We'll only be able to keep the ritual effects up for so long, but you'll have to channel it for as long as possible. I'll cover you." Maple said pointing to the largest ritual circle.
The Seer saw the battlefield ahead, a wretched mess of various armies. He was impressed by the resilience of their own, massively outnumbered force. He shouldn't have been surprised, those who had been chosen for this task were among some of their best. The Ultras lead by the Titan would no doubt provide a great theatre of battle for their enemies. Even with his mind focused entirely on the task at hand, he could feel the intensity of the battlefield like whispers, strands of information curling through the air. The Ashaka within continued to focus to enhance their forces with battle meditation, guarded by the Drones within the Epitaph, Vandals rushing in past the Seer; no doubt to deal with the Jedi puppets and the super-commando soldiers below. Such creatures were beneath his acknowledgement, his focus was on the entire battlefield. His focus, was on their entire army. He would save them from the ice, if he could. As he and his party approached the edge of the deployment ramp, the Seer raised his hand in defence as new Imperial forces deployed more of their weapon. His force barrier, blunted the approach of the nanophage upon the Epitaph.
Kalanthir could feel it, swirling in the air like a poignant poison. It disgusted him, shivers running the length of his spine as the force barrier quivered into nothing, what little reserves the Seer had to protect himself spent as his entire focus remained on the maintaining of the Barricas terraformer babe, it was nearly ready. But the battered earth of the crater would not do, they had to move beyond it. Kalanthir lead the trio of Ashaka acolytes down from the side of the deployment ramp, using it as cover as they hung to the length of the Epitaphs exterior before coming to the left most side of the ship far behind their own defensive lines and the concentration of the battlefield. But not so far that they could not see it, clambering through the glassed, burning crater as the battle continued on behind them.
He and the other Ashaka were spurred with some great haste as massive explosions rippled the length of their defensive lines again and again, mortar fire struck at their warriors from out of sight and hundreds of beasts and machines fought to claim the air. Mandalorians, the Galactic Alliance, the Silver Jedi Concord, the new Jedi Order, New Imperials, even Sith. All aligned against them in a futile effort to stop them, but even when so incredibly outnumbered the Bryn'adûl continued to give back as much as they were given, an indication for their foes no doubt. A microcosm of the Galactic stage.
Unbeknownst to them, in their naivety they had forgotten that for so long the Bryn'adûl had been the underdog. A formidable race of warriors, but a small and weak empire. It had only been the Chieftain's manipulation of the Galaxy that had allowed his own empire to grow in size and strength until they became a Galactic contender. By the time the Sith Empire attacked them at Ankhypt, it was too late. The Jedi and Sith both were thrown back, their territories seized and their worlds dominated again and again.
As Tathra said, it was a simple calculus.
The Seer and his acolytes reached the cusp of the crater, moving across the edge of the urban battlefield. He had his eyes set on a field opposite the chaos, the Ashaka at his back barely able to carry themselves any further. He turned, taking the babe from them now. The one he had given it to, their strongest - was now the weakest. With such close proximity to a creature so infused with the ability to syphon life and energy the Ashaka had unknowingly made itself a living battery for the creature. As they reached the field, he could feel the frost on the leaves beneath their feet.
That won't do.
Kalanthir extended his hand, breathes more difficult now as the creature began to pull on his own life. He swallowed hard, concentrating and rather fighting for control of his faculties as he released a small but powerful flame; a controlled extension of the elements as his power eroded the effects of the cold. His arm fell at his side, unable to remain upright as the creature continued to feed.
The Jedi were capable of impossible feats, and though he felt as if though he had caught the one immediately before him by surprise with his presence, it had not been sufficient to prevent him from utilizing his arcane ability to rescue the life of the sole Ranger upon the ground. The wounded man was beginning to look worse and worse for wear, contemplated the hybrid as he observed his bullets seemingly vanish into thin air, only to listen to the resounding crash as they slammed into a nearby wall, shattering the stone there and sending debris bursting outward in an exhalation of detritus.
He had originally targeted the Ranger out of fear of being involved in melee combat with the Knight only to find h himself shot in the back by small-arms fire until he had been weakened enough to fall and lose any advantage that his immense height provided over the Jedi. Now it seemed increasingly likely that the Ranger was far too injured to call attention to themselves unless life and death were on the line. Perhaps they would sit quietly and he would be able to ignore their presence until the combat had finished... and then he could grant them a quick death with his claws.
Osam observed as the Mandalorian flew into range of the Syphons disruptive field, and subsequently dropped to the ground, managing to save himself both from poor standing and from embarrassment through means of an athletic roll. Nevertheless, Osam was certain that he might've concussed himself, because instead of pressing the initiative, he seemed transfixed by the glow of the Jedi's plasmatic blade, as though it were the only thing that the could focus on whatsoever in spite of the hostile threat just to his side.
Like a child expressing their fascination for an insect while a viper lay at his feet.
That was why they would lose the war. For all of their hopes and aspirations that finally the galaxy had come together against the threat of the Bryn'adul, they proved the notion wrong everytime they gathered. Here was a Mandalorian - one of the mightiest warriors in the galaxy if the annals of history had been kept true - and in the midst of conflict he had frozen at the sight of an ally's weapon. Did the Concord think that variety for varieties sake was enough to grant them strength? Did they think that if they banded together a few thousand of this faction and a few thousand of that one then they would achieve their goal of unifying into a single cohesive defensive force?
How many people were in the galaxy? How many had decided to show up today to defend a rock of soot and sand. How much blood did the Bryn'adul have to spill until these wretched primates learned that they could not be stopped so simply, that unity was more than a single battle, that camaraderie meant more than showing up when a mutual threat was on the horizon. That their resistance was based on futility - because for every pound of flesh they threw at the problem, a hundred-thousand pounds of flesh fought in another petty war, or stayed home altogether.
The arrival of a true companion was a pleasantry, though not an unexpected one. Osam had observed Sylok'Vanari
as he was attempting to catch up to the Warlord, but he had gone ahead to guarantee that they had a safe place to begin their conflict and so that the Ashaka could work upon his wound utilizing his healing talents. The Seer made clear his presence with a simple and effective phrase, addressing Osam with the formality of his rank as was custom among the Draelvasier - had news of his ascension been spread so quickly? He smiled at the prospect of fighting alongside a mighty user of the Force.
"Just in time, brethren." He spoke, addressing Sylok in less formalistic, but still socially acceptable terms.
He had been about to direct his companion to one of the foes before them when the crippling detonation - the same detonation that had obliterated their barricades and slain a thousand or more of their number and which had annihilated his Brumaks - finally struck against them, the blast-wave traveling an immense distance so swiftly.
Were it not for the Ashaka, he might've suffered immense injury from the stones which were hurled towards them, but these were deflected with deft action and vigorous spirit. They were distracted for a few moments, however, and it was enough for the Jedi to strike down one of the two Syphons he had brought along with him - though he was punished for his indiscretion in distance and sent several feet away from the miniature detonation.
Osam gazed back out of the courtyard and towards the towering Epitaph, observing the results of the obliterating seismic charge which had rippled through his Akhenaton and Vaydralen reservists and which had contributed to the death of his Shamans and their pet warbeasts. His hands slacked for a moment as the devastation touched his eyes, the countless dead bodies so numerous that they appeared almost as if though weeds, the blood spilled out of them immense enough to fill a lake.
How could this have happened? Had he not been swift in his command? Had he not struck at threats wherever they appeared and given his Drael orders that would see them through the day? Had already his commission as Warlord been marred with failure? His mindstone buzzed, but so taken in his vigil for the spilled blood of his kin, he did not answer.
No. Only when he had just begun to feel the effect of his position, when he had begun to trust in himself once more, and think that perhaps he was worthy to hold his position if only to guide those underneath him... it had been snatched away through cowardice and an act of suicidal destruction. Even the Draelvasier were not so wicked and desperate as to murder themselves solely to kill their enemies, but the proclaimed guardians of justice and Light would do whatever it took to stop their advance. If it provided a tactical advantage to coat orphans in pitch and ignite them, they would do it, just as they had resorted to chemical weapons that melted them down to primordial soup, and orbital bombardments that slew as many of their own as the Bryn'adul.
The Warlord turned back to the Jedi knight and his Mandalorian compatriot, barely noticing the hint of movement that indicated another challenger was coming around from somewhere behind the courtyard.
How had they lived in the galaxy so long, accumulated so much power and ability, and then squandered it in all in fits of despair and hopeless acts. How did they live with themselves knowing that they were seen as guardians and protectors, vigilant soldiers, mighty men and women, when the only thing they could ever resort to was arming peasant militia and throwing bodies at a problem until it disappeared?
Did they not know that great power came with it the choice to effect change without wasting lives? Did they not know they had been gifted with thousands of years to prepare themselves for threats such as theirs, given the opportunity to test it in fledgling wars among their own kind? Where was the grand strategy of humanity? Where was the light that they proclaimed to shine here in the darkness on a remote desert world where there had been so few civilians to even defend?
Osam looked toward the pair of contenders and spoke, emotion overcoming him even as logic dictated that they would not understand Drael: "I hate you." Vitriol and anger transcended linguistics. His hands clenched at the carbine in their grip with such force and tension that he thought he might snap the gun in two without a second thought.
Without another moment, the carbine jumped up seemingly on its own accord, directed toward the Jedi Knight as it cracked with a burst of exceptionally lethal rounds, chasing after him with the bullets in order to keep him moving after he began what would surely be evasive maneuvers. The Warlord braced the back of the gun against the courtyard wall to steady himself, but his aim was generalized, not specific. Simpler to dodge, but still difficult to stop.
It gave him the opportunity to reach for the Sun Quaker grenade at his hip with his left hand, to tear its pin, and to chuck it directly into the chest of the Mandalorian warrior. He would keep the Jedi running, and let the dumb-founded warrior prince choke on his own blood just like his brothers had choked on theirs.
His field of view spun violently whilst his body flipped in the air at rapid speed. Finally he landed on the cold, rough ground with a slam directly next to a fallen soldier, whom he hoped had fought valiantly up until her death. Dazed, his vision continued to spin as Cas tried to lift his body off the ground, but everything continued to spin, fighting against his intentions to get up and fight. He released a small groan, his thoughts shifting back to Vinil, he needed to get back to him and keep the wounded man alive. Still struggling to stand, his equilibrium and sense of direction gradually returned, Cas raised his head and glimpsed the Risen-Sraelvun who was now alongside another Bryn.
The seismic charge's detonation tore through Cas' eardrums, quickly snapping him out of his daze as he slammed his hands onto his ears reflexively - although it was a far enough distance away, the noise it emitted was still loud enough to cause the Kiffar great pain. The initial shock to his ears prevented Cas from reacting evasively, but thankfully he needn't have to. As a result of landing directly opposite of the two Bryn warriors, he managed to avoid any of the oncoming stones and debris forged from the charge.
The Kiffar's eyes narrowed as he sensed something... unique about the other Draelvasier... wait, was it Force-sensitive? How could that-- Cas shook his head and groaned in annoyance, grabbing his lightsaber and slowly rose to his feet. The Force was just non-discriminatory he begrudgingly accepted. Now stood at his full height, lightsaber at his side, for a brief moment Cas stared down the two Bryn warrios. He sensed the hatred directed towards him from the slightly taller of the two, Cas' brows furrowed at this, the feelings was mutual. What right did he have to hate him? Or anyone? His people slaughtered countless innocents; men, women, children, they pillaged and burned various homeworlds, all for what? They were just savage conquerers who thought that claim to the galaxy was theirs.
Today, the Concord and its allies would remind the Bryn'adul that it wasn't.
Cas' grip around the hilt of his lightsaber tightened exponentially and his jaws clenched. Then the Bryn shot at him again, knowing his deadly those rounds were Cas quickly broke off into an air cartwheel toward his right side, evading the large rounds and managing to distract Cas . He quickly landed on his feet, before launching himself upward to avoid another burst. Shifting into a frontal somersault, Cas landed back on the ground and proceeded to evade the next burst.
This couldn't go on forever. Strategically, well, in his mind at least, Cas continued his acrobatics around the courtyard and evaded the rounds coming for him. However, he would also slyly maneuver his way closer to the two as he was shot at. The Jedi Knight threw himself into the air once more but this time extended his right arm forward, with aid of the Force, he telekinetically gripped a medium sized piece of duracrete rubble scattered around the courtyard, positioned behind the two Bryn. Clenching his fist and rotating his wrist 180 degrees, he hauled the debris into Osam
's back, hopefully distracting him long enough for him to close in.
Landing aggressively onto the floor, he shifted into a forward roll before charging toward Sylok'Vanari
whom he deemed the highest threat due to his apparent Force-sensitivity. Falling into their trap, Cas was being efficiently distracted by trying to take out the two Bryn. However, the Jedi Knight thought and hoped that Zephyr would have a better chance recovering his sight while Cas engaged both Bryn warriors.
The powerful Dreddikkast snarled, infuriated as the Jedi escaped into the Epitaph; using its dozens of arms to scale the size of the Epitaph as a massive swarm of enemy fire came directly for it - no matter. The Dreddikkast saw everything, felt every inclination as its battle meditation fed into the warriors of the Bryn'adûl, trying its utmost to stave off the effects of the cold as the black miasma leapt from the warship, easily evading the focused sources of artillery and missiles directed toward it. The explosions instead, rippling along the heavy exterior plates of the Epitaph. The air filtered between its wings a dozen times over, its manoeuvrability unmatched in the sky. Each arm acted independent of another as the massive beast darted low toward the battlefield, careful to cover its eyes and avoid the scorching lines of molten plasma as it dived to the right, slashing the ground and swiping dozens of soldiers up into the air with its many razor sharp tendrils; grasping an enemy tank in its claws - carrying it up into the sky. The weight was a strain on its individual arms, only able to carried it several hundred feet up before releasing the tank as it fired into the Dredd's underbelly. The Dredd shrieked, more annoyed than hurt as it dropped the vehicle down into the thick of the Concord's enveloping force. A fierce explosion rippled below as the Dredd watched, wings bellowing in the wind.
The battle was pure spectacle from above, the Siege Towers of the Primarch tearing into the enemy artillery with ballista fire and hundreds of turrets, the Servitors of the Beast Master Ostak taking the ground out from under the frontlines of the enemy; potholes and new deep trenches forming as the seven encircled the mighty Guardian as it tore through thousands. Even at Tathra's side, yes they were stretched thin. But there was something even their lesser numbers possessed that the Humans and their allies did not.
True unity.
Overlapping fire, the Juggernauts working in tandem with the Ultras as they utilised the discarded Syphon rifles; the Drones and Warlock warriors of Hrajlmak racing to the sides of the frontline to assist them. The fire of siege towers, gunboats covering the ground with molten plasma and the destruction wreacked by Servitors would funnel the enemy into chokepoints on the terrain, right into the overlapping fire of Juggernauts, Ultras, Rhivaks and Brumaks. All these facets, individual elements working in cohesion to defeat their enemy. Flaws and feats accepted and utilised in one beautiful tapestry of military combat. The unity of the Bryn'adûl was unmatched, and even as Tathra faced down multiple opponents he would never feel alone. No matter how many of their own fell, that brotherhood would remain and that was why they were going to win. Because it wasn't just this singular force, the entirety of the Bryn'adûl were working together. The real fleet awaited dawn, and with so many eyes drawn to Sev Tok; the Bryn'adûl who survived today would have proven their strength above all doubt. Tathra felt that harsh cold against his back as he landed, cold breathes matched by the Baedurin. Their bodies aching under the pressures of weather and fighting endlessly.Tathra could hear the pained roars of Galak, no doubt grieving the potential loss of Warlock Osam. They had been close, and the death of the decorated Risen was on his hands. He'd put these insolent wretches in the ground for it. When Laertia disappeared, the Titan knew exactly where she was going to be.
He shifted onto the ball of his right foot, left foot drawn slightly behind the right. Staying manoeuvrable, torso turned at a slight angle, the shaft of the Axe held upright against the length of his left arm. He shifted slightly as Laertia stabbed at his plated back with her spear, holding the Axe to his back - Tathra had leverage, easily pushing aside the head of the spear as he brought his hand and consequently the Axe level, likely also pushing Laertia's spear further away with the Axe's vastly greater weight.
Tathra hunched low, pushing forward on the ball of his right foot as he blocked the swing of the Axe with his gauntlet whilst simultaneously, stepping forward with his left and allowing the saber strike of the Jedi to continue, striking the armour extending over his shoulder - the distance between them shrinking immensely, lowering the possibility of a redirection of the Jedi's saber to defend himself as the Titan simply thrust forward. He had the range, the strength, the speed. - Axe aimed at the abdomen as he pushed through, the Axe's blade and a third of the shaft passing the armoured Jedi and likely cleaving him in half. But he didn't have time to watch for results, retracting the Axe immediately, back to his side.
Enzymes spawned from the bio-blasters in contact with the Bryn began to filter into the boots and armour of the few unshielded Bryn on the front line, burning away at their feet as the shields blunted the effects otherwise. Even so, those very same Ultras continued to fight as their numbers dwindled. Each and every Ultra had fought across dozens of planets, against the Concord itself many times. They knew the ruthlessness of their enemy, and no amount of trickery would stop them from fighting for their Empire, fighting for their home.
Overhead, the Ra'maks continued to rain down fire on the enemy positions as miniature ice tornadoes rippled through the Bryn'adûl front line, even Ultras protected by their armour and shielding shivered in the dense cold of the early morning night, truly darkest and coldest before the dawn. The Reavers moved further up field, still on the fringes of their entire deployment - they had a clear view of the left and right flanks, with the sky dominated by Gunboats and Ra'maks - an momentary opportunity appeared as the Shamans utilised the Reavers, generating magnetic blasts within the lines of the enemy, redirecting their fire back at them as one of the three remaining Reavers turned its attention to the armoured truck barrelling towards the left side of their defences once more.
The Reaver roared, crashing down its front feet - obliterating the droids and militia men pushing into the gap as it attacked the truck with a singular magnetic blast, generating it from underneath as the truck was sent hurdling into the sky, the enhanced seismic charge exploding into brilliant blue harmlessly in the sky. The Bryn warriors rejoiced at the sudden arrival of the kaiju reinforcement, but for every step taken. Another drove back. The New Imperials continued to deploy the nanophage, peeling away at the edges of their defences again and again. Mixed with the cold, it was enough to put even the toughest of warriors on their knees from exhausting. Even as the Bryn'adûl fought their hardest, employed their most punishing strategies - there was no beating the elements or the sheer numbers of their foe. Not like this. Tathra felt it as well, even as he fought to defeat the enemies surrounding him - he felt the sting of the cold, and the poison of the bioweapon on his breath.
His eyelids felt heavy, his throat parched. Pain radiated out from his chest, his back. It subsided and came back in waves. Someone somewhere was shouting. Many someones. He couldn't make out their words, but he could tell from their tones that it wasn't good, whatever it was. Stirring, the knight tried to find his feet, a hand reaching out for a support.
The nausea hit him before he was halfway up. He sat back down.
Looking around, Varn tried to figure out where he was. The moments leading up to his fall were little more than blurred memories. He remembered there being something large and angry trying to kill him. He remembered defeating it. Or at least he thought he remembered. When he tried to picture it, the pounding behind his eyes grew worse. When he turned his head, it grew worse. It was like someone had taken the liberty of jamming a knife in the back of his skull, and had taken to twisting it whenever he tried to do something. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve it; if he had, it was just another blurred memory, a glitch in the system.
The room strobed red and white as something happened outside. People were still shouting, only now it was punctuated with blasterfire, and something deeper. Friendly armor, maybe? Launchers? Varn didn't know. He tried to stand. He failed.
The knight didn't notice as someone came in from outside until they were stood over him. Looking up, Varn had to squint to make out the man's -he thought it was a man- features. The man smiled down at him as if they were old friends. Maybe they were. "Finally awake, then? Took you long enough." Smiling down at him, the man's face became clearer, more familiar. Like the voice, the man's appearance helped Varn to think, to figure things out. The man was right. It had taken him long enough. Varn frowned up at the stranger, wondering if the term still applied. "Captain Rymar?"
"The one and only. How're you feeling, friend?"
Looking down, Varn took the time to study himself. There was enough light coming through the shattered windows to make out his chest, his legs. His arms felt heavy at his side, weighted down by lead. That was good. He hadn't lost anything, then. "Like hammered chit." The Jedi replied, resting his head against the wall at his back. He closed his eyes, envisioned Captain Rymar nodding. "You sure look like it." Rymar agreed, taking a knee, his armor shifting slightly.
Opening his eyes, Varn took in Liedran Kathause
's Ranger Captain. Like last time, his armor was stained by dirt and dust. This time, however, it was also covered in blood. Not his blood though. A friend's? A foe's? Either was possible. A helmet lay in the crook of the man's arm, his blaster off to the side some. Varn wondered how he himself looked, realizing he'd already had his answer. Like chit. Always like chit. Varn closed his eyes again. "How bad is it?" He asked the Captain, something rattling 'round his skull as he tried to stand again.
Rymar put a hand to his chest, gently pushed him back.
"Not good, sir. When the Rhivak went up, you got caught in the blast. Your armor kept you from getting shredded, mostly, but that's not what we're worried about. It's what's inside. Your internal organs, your bones." The captain's words died away, and were just starting to come back when Varn held up a hand. The captain waited patiently. He was a good man. "I wasn't asking about me." Varn said through a smile he didn't really feel. "The battle, Rymar. How bad's it gotten?" The captain blinked, recovering quickly. An expression the Jedi didn't quite understand crossed the Ranger's face a moment before he began to speak. Varn let it go.
"Honestly, sir? I'm not sure. Our sharpshooters have been cutting the wheat from the chaff like you suggested. We've interrupted the construction of their defenses in this sector. For now, at least. We've... uh, killed two of the fou-" The captain paused as a loud explosion shook the room around them, sending clouds of dust cascading down from the vaulted ceiling above. Varn turned his head down to keep it from getting in his eyes. Rymar continued. "As I was saying, we've killed three of the four Rhivak's attacking us here. But that's all I know." Frowning, the Ranger tilted his head towards the doorway. Or what had once been the doorway before something had struck it hard enough to create a large hole in the structure.
"Reports indicate the Titan has taken the field with a band of his loyal dogs close on his heels. General Thirdas and his forces have moved to oppose them, though, how that's going is anyone's guess. Our shield's been shut down on the General's orders, and apparently we've got people on the Epitaph now. Who knows? Fighting seems to be thickest in the center and on our left flanks, but we're still engaging the enemy here, too, and we've gotten word that one of those heads you mentioned has been spottedOsamSylok'Vanarileading an attack on our lines."Zephyr KraytCadereKranak Vizsla
Still frowning, Rymar watched as Varn tried to find his feet again. This time, the knight made it all the way up before the nausea hit. That was a good sign, Varn reckoned. Better than being dead, anyway. Rymar looked like he disagreed. "Are you sure I can't get you a medic, sir?" He asked, straightening to stand beside the Jedi. Varn waved him away "No." Taking a few steps, the knight stubbornly carried on. Now was not the time for rest. He would not lie around while others did the fighting and the dying. That was not the Jedi way. Not his way. "No as in 'no, I'm not sure' or no as in 'I don't need a medic?'"
The Jedi laughed at that, surprised by the Ranger's ability to find a sense of humour in a place like this. Laughing hurt.
"Just no."
"Suit yourself." Walking towards the exit, Rymar turned to regard the Jedi. For a moment, concern or something much like it deepened the lines around his eyes. Then, it was gone. Rymar put his helmet on. "Need anything else, sir? I should really get back to it." Stepping away from the wall, Varn straightened his back. For a second or two the world swam, before settling once more. He was already starting to feel better, Jairdain
though, he wasn't sure better was the right word for how he felt. More alive? Less like a walking, talking corpse? Yeah, that fitted. Taking a breath, the Jedi's gaze found the Ranger's own, held it.
"Just tell me where I can find this fourth Rhivak."
Red felt the walker shift and shake as a missile hit the side of it. He heard the walker return fire, opening up on the Bryn forces. Outside, he could hear the militia infantry escorting the walkers also firing their weapons, shouting and screaming to each other. They had passed the dome a while back, and ever since, the fire had been nonstop.
Red brought his right hand to the side of his helmet, contacting Ops Command. "Command, Command, this is Epsilon-11, standby for report 1-3, over." Red said into the commlink.
"Epsilon-11, this is command. Send your traffic, over."A voice replied.
"Report: Epsilon has entered the shield, and we are engaging Bryn forces. We have linked up with Armored Platoon 4-6 and are currently proceeding towards the front. Break. Request: location of the warhead, how copy, over?" Red reported.
"Copy, Epsilon, standby,"The voice replied. After about 20 seconds of wait, the voice came back on. "Epsilon, the device is located at Sector Bravo-Whiskey-11-Niner, subsection Charlie-3. Break. Reports of hostiles in the area, how copy, over?"
"Solid copy on all. Epsilon, out." Red confirmed, turning off his commlink and letting his hand drop back down. He looked at the Sergeant and the three other Operatives. "Time for us to head out. Get your stuff ready." He told them.
Standing up, he walked over to the hatch leading out of the walker, and opened it. Red grabbed the edges, and climbed out on top of the walker. Outside, all around Red, it was a warzone. Rubble littered the streets. Buildings were collapsed, and many were barely standing. All around, bodies of both friendly forces and Bryn'adul forces lay on the ground. Blaster fire and Bryn'adul bullets zipped past, shots being fired from both sides. The militia slowly pushed up, alongside the walkers, using the rubble as cover, firing at the Bryn'adul. The walkers also fired on the Bryn forces, firing into their lines with their explosive shots, firing both at their ground forces and their air forces. Red jumped off the walker, into the rubble filled streets. Behind him, his four squad members climbed out and dropped down, getting into cover.
Nearby, Red saw a small squad of militia troops taking cover behind rubble, firing at the oncoming Bryn'adul.
"Corporal!" Red shouted at one of them over the fire. Behind Red, one of the walkers took a hit, and was forced to hold position. "I want you and your squad on me! We need to secure a device!"
The Corporal nodded, ducking his head when Bryn shots started firing overhead. "Yes sir!" The Corporal shouted back.
Then, Red and his Ops squad booked it, running across the rubble, dodging incoming fire. The militia squad also got up, running for a nearby alley. Red and his squad managed to make it to the alley, along with the militia squad. The militia soldiers breathed sighs of relief, thankful to be out of the intense fighting.
"We aren't out of it yet. There are enemy footmobiles all over this place. We've got to be cautious." Red told them.
They groaned, but nodded.
"Alright, let's get moving, no time to waste. We're Oscar Mike." Red said. And with that, he started down the alleyways, followed by the two squads, carefully moving through the alleyways.
The team was on the move, but as they counted on, their luck had run out. While having the appearance of an “organic life form”, as if they were inside a body, it was still a ship, and several corridors were locked down. There weren’t any options to move, no access tubes, no lifts.
Boss, they’re coming.
What's your score?
Eighty-seven
The two snipers are comparing "headshots".
How????
Tanaab...
Are you kidding me? You're counting those as more than one?
Being a good shot doesn't change the count.
Bah.
Psychos.
Perimeter. Gabriel… make us a big hole.
How “big”?
Your “big”.
Boom, baby. The tone in his voice told the story about how big his smile was behind the mask.
You know, you really need some professional help with that.
It’s great, isn’t it?
No, not there!
Huh?
What’s the problem?
I think I found something. Pointing to a section about twenty feet from them. Right about there. Shaped charge. We can get to an access tube that will take us to an opening about eight hundred feet from the core.
I like this plan.
Bam Baby!
Are you trying to say “Boom Baby”?
Whatever.
Don’t. It hurts my ears when you do it.
Guys… seriously… incoming…
He’s right…
Got it covered.
As the team were in perimeter cover positions, aiming in all directions, the demo expert moved over as Bartleby directed him and set the charge. He was “nuts” but he knew more than enough about what he worked with to be able to set the explosives in such a manner that he could get the full explosive effect that he wanted and be standing right over the device.
It’s gotta prime. Need a minute.
We don’t have a minute.
Then duck…
As he pressed the detonator, Gabriel dove at them as the rest of the team “ducked” from the shrapnel and shockwave as an enormous gaping hole ripped open and their access tube was obvious. Of course, it was obvious to anyone else that was there too.
Oscar Mike.
We’re gonna be chased.
All the way there.
We’re gonna be fighting all the way there too.
Pulling his mask up, Azrael was getting sick of having to have this talk. What part of this don’t you guys seem to get? This is “business as usual”. Others get the glory, we do the work. We do what they’re incapable of… you think any of the Rangers could make it this far? We’re here because we work and stick together. I can’t do this without you, but if I have to, I’ll damn sure try.
Putting his mask down, he got moving, the team followed. @Quoron Ver’dum’s forces were not far behind as the rear guard had to be considered. Down the hole, they went as Bartleby took the turn with his FTB Rocket and FYB ordinance. With all that he was carrying, he could only hold one rocket launcher and warhead so this was as good a time as any to use it.
Aiming upwards at the hole did not have the effect that he wanted. The hole was not sealed, but Gabriel was able to set an incendiary charge to go off by the time they were in the access tube and safely away from it. The accelerant would burn long enough to keep anyone chasing them at bay, and with luck, burn the corridor up as well!
The fighting was intense as they were down another two levels but by this time, every “Ahsoka” or “Randall” or whatever these things are called were on them. Headshots were good things, but they were going through their rockets and impact grenades. Where they started this day with thirty total 40mm FYB grenades among them they now had seven, and eighteen FYB rockets were down to five…
… the good news is that they were in sight of the core room.
Xiphos wasn't deterred as Tathra Khaeus
managed to shift a little, his large weight and strength turning aside her weapon and the axe and saber of Beltran Rarr
and Thirdas Heavenshield
.
She twisted to his side, moving as he shifted, away from his axe head. Her Alchemy destroying spear tip instead being focused against the shaft of his axe itself. She redoubled the vicious, unpredictable frenzy of her attacks against his weapon itself as well as his gauntlet, careful to be ready to dodge the giant when he inevitably used one end of that weapon or the other, hoping to give Beltran and Thirdas a chance to go directly for his arms and head.
Her intense command of the cold made the immediate local temperature drop lower.
She said nothing to him, as she had in the previous battle. She wasn't here to waste her breath. He was beyond listening, beyond caring what Non-Bryn'adul thought of his insane, Genocidal war that could only end with all of his people being destroyed, or reduced to such misery that they would wish they had been all destroyed.
She attacked with sheer, frozen determination, like blizzard. The temperature getting lower and lower her swipes and stabs for his shaft and especially his gauntlet, which she focused on with particularly murderous zeal in her stab attempts, going for the red jewel at the center.
Her son's reacted rationally to the interference of the reaver, directing massive bursts of rocket and artillery fire at the interfering reaver, falling back momentarily behind their makeshift Verikast scavenged cover as punishing fire from the lines of Ultras and others blasted apart Militia. But they had acquired some of the deadly syphon rifles themselves, and the Model 2's directed those under their command to use a combination of these and their own Bio-Blasters to send the poisoned, rapidly falling Ultras to hell, focusing on their weakened lines aggressively, even as they took cover behind anything they could find. But as much as they were murdered and butchered, they refused to retreat, and in fact, pushed forward slightly, using nothing more than sheer, aggressive volume fire. Some of the Model 2's and Militia lashed the Syphons they captured along with other Bryn Weaponry into crude turret batteries, using make shift contraptions to fire multiple weapons at once into charging Bryn lines, even as more worms erupted and killed scores of men, the Militia pressed inward, lobbing cryo-grenades like they were snowballs, the Model 2's on one line using the continuous sound cannons in their chest to heavily injure and distract their attackers and free up their Militia to keep firing. But they were not being pushed back. Not today. They fired these makeshift batteries of guns at the legs of the Reaver.
Airborne Model 1's, a few of couple of dozen still functional in the dome, as most had been destroyed, focused on the Reaver that had screwed up their second Seismic charge. They began firing their concussion rifles at its legs also, keeping a random, scattered firing pattern to avoid it's magnetic blasts, while Bio Blaster fire from dozens of Militia was fired at its Verikast plating. Model 2's, their numbers in the dome now reduced to thirty five percent, sweapt the attacking lines with Rotary cannon fire as well as their shoulder mounted charrics, both weapons tuned to pierce the Drael.
The Militia, still getting shredded, began to move hastily constructed mobile barricades of pilfered Verikast plating forward, allowing them to move slightly closer while the Nuetralizers provided covering fire against the vicious hoard. A team of Ten Model 2's even managed to get close to the crater, even with all the fire they were taking, spotted Seer Kalanthir
and his team, and immediately began pouring heaps of Bio-Blaster fire on his position, hoping to interrupt whatever it was he was attempting, firing their arm mounted rotary cannons at him at the same time...
Her sons efforts and sacrifices filled Xiphos with pride and love for them as she fought Tathra for the fate of Sev Tok, unrelenting as her skeletal sons, and equally unforgiving.
Meanwhile...
The Westenra copy known as Melissa slew and slew through hoardes of drones as she fought to reach the same thermonuclear weapon Subject 73 Red
and his team were going for, the artificial vampire on a mission quite opposite of his.
She intended to recover it. That was the only similarity.
She also intended to detonate it as close to the Epitaph as she could, for she saw no other way to stop them at this point.
It might kill scores of people. It might render the city uninhabitable.
But it might also force The Bryn'adul off of Sev Tok.
She was closer...the scanners the Nuetralizers used had given her a greater estimate of the bomb's location. She let none of the horrors the Bryn'adul possessed, stop her, carving through dozens of drones, bent on reaching it's buried location before anyone else could...
The Guardian servitor continued unchallenged, the left side of the battlefield and the enemy spread across it attempting to flank their forces now pinched between the approaching Reavers, Siege Tower and the Guardian. It had been a wise decision of Tathra's to bring the Reavers - most wise. The enemy artillery would of no doubt eviscerated them all if they had not brought them. Speeder bikes exploded along the lines of the foremost Bryn, some within the enemies own lines as they were shot before they could reach the Bryn. Thousands of the enemy charged in against them, regardless of the layers of thick molten plasma in their path or the sinkholes surrounding the ground in front of them created by Ostak's Servitors. Anti-drael utilities were harnessed by the enemy, fired into the rows of the Warlords and Chieftains forces, a stray blast catching him in the back of right knee.
The Primarch gritted his teeth as the pain nearly took his leg from under him, but the force sustained him. The brave lives of every warrior that put themselves between him and the enemy sustained him. But he could feel the Titan's thoughts, the perspective was shared. One step forward, and two steps back even. Their bravery, superior tactics or fighting skill would mean nothing if their lines did not hold and their plan succeed. The darkness held all around them the, vapour of the Hive Bombers all but dissipated alongside the abhorrent bioweapon. But the New Imperials were know to be relentless, even if they cleared the field again and again the continued bombardment of the nanophage would be catastrophic. That was all true, yet his concentration still remained on the Guardian. He would trust in the unity shared between he and his kin.
The Guardian turned its body inward, drilling through the ground beneath the push of the neutralisers and militia on the left - its tail moved to the left of its body, carving across the edge of the battlefield as its own body hollowed directly underneath it. By the time its tail finished, an entire five-hundred metre segment of enemy militia pushing forward with barricades and neutraliser support would feel the ground tipping beneath their feet, crumbing into the deep beneath them like a gigantic seesaw. Drek'ma slammed his staff into the ground, fuelling the physical power of the Guardian through the force as it dove underground.
Ostak! Use the Servitors to hollow grids beneath the bulk of the enemies force supporting their front lines. It will take time, we will sink them all.
Drek'ma closed his eyes as the Guardian delved deep. Now, the final phase would begin. The great serpent, it felt the rhythm of the battle above as the earth shuddered and vibrated all around it. Deep down, it could feel everything; no detail hidden behind the deafening cries of the dying or the steam of blaster fire. No, it felt the true battle. The music of the battle, the drum beat of the beasts stomping across the battlefield. The Guardian hungered for it, longed for it and so it mimicked that rhythm. It utilised every muscle in its body, vibrating deep beneath the earth as the foundational cracks began to form across the battlefield. Dots for Ostak to connect. The Primarch knew that the experienced among their enemy would know what was coming, the very same rumblings that had doomed them on Sarka and Nar Kreeta before that - the notion that some might've known what was coming for them - it gave the Shaman satisfaction. Those with knowledge would die in futility.
Another blast struck the Primarch, a disruptor beam of a stolen Syphon rifle carved through the plating of his cuirass, his flesh eroding as pain carved through him; rapid breaths following staggered poise as he grasped hard onto his Stave. Drek'ma pushed the bottom into the ground, almost leaning against it as he placed his head against it. The pearl white orb in its helm glowing with power as Drek'ma called upon it. No matter the wounds sustained his focus remained on the control of the Guardian. Together, they would bring the Concord and their allies to their knees in one fell swoop. The question remained if he would survive it, he did not know.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was the survival of those whom he treasured. Their Chieftain and his kin, and the victory of the Bryn'adûl on this day. In his heart, he knew they would prevail. But if he did die, he wanted to be remembered standing tall, proud to be a Draelvasier and proud to fight and live alongside the greatest warrior he had ever known. Tathra. The Primarch forced himself to his feet, standing broad shouldered as the Guardian continued.
The battle was going reasonably well much to Jax's surprise, looks like the plan the Bryn employed in landing in the middle of the city turned less like a clever plan and of fool hardy one. The defense quickly surrounded the crashed flagship laying down some heavy firepower upon them and the Bryn were scrambling to form an effective counterattack. However they were in disarray running around like headless Magnaguards wading through the crash site and responding passively. Jax and the forces continued to fight through wave upon waves of enemies, the Jedi's Lightsaber sliced and diced his way through many Juggernauts and Bryn advancing a like a charging Rancor.
"Is this it Brynadul?" a smirk formed on the Jedi's face. He spent hours fighting and while his armor was dented and covered in blood, he didn't lose a step. The battle was swinging the Silver's way and Jax couldn't help but feel a little overconfident, were they going to do it? Where they going to actually hold off the Bryn and hand them a major defeat. "Is this all you can muster up after laying waste to planets like Charos IV?"
The memories of the evacuation was kept Jax pressing on, the scared faces, the total annihilation of a city. Jax remembered one of their starships destroying the civilian transport ship right in front of Jax and the remaining forces. Jax took those memories and transformed them into passion, and rage. Because the Bryn were merciless they gave out so much dark side energy which Jax could use for Vapaad. Just like Caltin Vanagor
taught him, the Jedi was immersed in Vaapaad his yellow blade a weaving whirl of slashes. The Bryn fell into tiny bite sized chunks as the dark side of the force created by the chaos of war went through Jax and out without touching him. Jax did not fear death, in fact the Bryn should fear him.
"Ingrid L'lerim
," Jax used the force to call out to her. "I hope you're safe and I want you to know that we are finishing what you have started."
Just then Jax's radio picked up a disturbing transmission that there was a nuke somewhere in the city and it could go off. "Chit!" Jax held his radio close while he used his Lightsaber to bat away the bolts. "Ground troops we make sure that bomb is secure! I'm sending coordinates to my location! Anyone close contact me and I'll rally to you!"
Not dread, not excitement, it was a strange zen-like shape coiling in his chest as his eyes fixated on the streams of hyperlight around them. One eye saw the blue, the other... saw something else entirely. Had anyone ever considered to travel the Netherworld and activate a hyperdrive? He thought not and perhaps it was for the best that they had not.
The ship reversed at the same time as his armored hand settled on Ishida's shoulder.
"Steady, Padawan Ashina." He murmured without looking at her. His eyes only held the planet in front of them. "Ours is a solemn duty. We kill without hesitation, because it is the right thing to do, but take no pleasure or excitement from it."
His helmet finally shifting towards his Padawan.
"That is the path of the Dark and you do not want to tread those grounds." Tone steady, but through their telepathic connection Ishida would feel the dangerous edge. It would not be the first time Sardun had put down a wayward soul. Regret? Yes, but that had never stopped him in his duty before and it would not stop him here either.
She would know this.
Only then did it shift up to Ishida's brother. He did not offer the same warning to him. Inosuke was a Jedi Knight and not part of the Lords of Light, that was one reason he did not rebuke him too. The other was that he saw no need to embarrass Ishida any further. His young padawan clearly held her sibling in high esteem.
Some things were sacred. Once upon a time Michael had known it personally.
"Are we clear to make landfall?" Inosuke had no desire to waste any more time.
"It is now or never," Michael said softly and here their ship began descending procedures.
One of the intelligence officers fed information back to them that the other Alliance troops were receiving as they went down. "The red dome does not seem to hold back ships or organic material, sir, instead it seems to slow down any movement inside. We can either land outside of it or take the ship directly through the shield, awaiting orders."
Sardun stared at the sphere for a moment longer.
"By the time we have landed, marched the troops out and through the dome, the battle might already be lost." His attention shifted back to the other two Jedi beside him.
"Through the dome we go, risk and all, and hope we meet at the other side to bring Light's Justice to the Silver's call."
Unless they challenged him? That is what their ship would do, move to pierce the dome and slide deep enough inside of it, so they can deploy fighters to target the Epitaph and provide relief to the Silver Jedi within.
Hopefully they would not all die in the progress of it.
Location: Sev Tok, City of Anvil, City Center, 550 Meters Southwest of The Epitaph Local Time: 22:25 Date: -DATA CORRUPTED- Primary Objective: Defend the City of Anvil Alongside SJC Forces in the Area Secondary Objective: Extract Wounded SJC Personnel To Safety and Dispense Medical Care Equipment: Loadout 2 (Carrying 1x Portable Clip Recharger in utility Field Butt Pack. Flame Projector swapped out with a CryoBan Projector.) Friendlies: SJC | Cadere
| Zephyr Krayt Hostiles: The Bryn’adûl | Osam
| Sylok'Vanari
Their concentrated fire directed towards the two Brumak’s had proved to be effective for the time being, as the two lightning hurling monstrosities no longer continued firing at their position. The militiamen and the rangers assumed they had eliminated them.
But the Bryn’adûl elements retaliated once more after their salvo was complete. The Bryn’adûl troops surviving the return fire from the platoon had reloaded their rifles and suppressed them once again.
Their deadly volley ripping large chunks of ferroconcrete from the buildings and walls alike. The majority of the platoon was pinned down once again. The militia riflemen and the rangers threw themselves on the ground behind cover, in hopes of minimizing their silhouette to avoid getting killed or injured.
“Ah, kark! When is this going to end!?"exclaimed Hozze as he dove into cover. The small chunks of rubble lifted off into the air by the Bryn’adûl rounds crashed against his durasteel helmet with a metallic rattle. “I’m sick of this-”
The earth beneath them trembled violently for a few moments as one of the buildings garrisoned by the militia riflemen crumbled from the concentrated retaliation. Some of them were trapped under the rubble. They were shouting for help from their brothers in arms to get them out.
“Kark! Get them out of the rubble, quick!”Rena shouted as he peaked out of his cover to glance at the collapsed building and the Bryn’adûl side of the frontline.
Four of the militiamen nearby sprung into action upon receiving their orders to pull their friends out from the rubble. They ran towards the left flank while keeping their heads down, occasionally diving to the ground and behind cover to avoid the hailstorm of rounds.
“Damn it!” the Ranger shouted as he ducked to shield himself from the incoming enemy fire. He looked to the other Rangers and militia riflemen posted on various defensive positions to his right. “Sound off! Is anyone hurt? Did we lose anyone?”
“Hozze, I’m fine!”
“Nes, I’m okay!”
“Kohan, doing okay!”
“Brigges, green!”
The rest of the militia riflemen and Rangers had reported green. Some had bruises here and there when they dove into cover but for now, they were still alive. <Come on, just a little longer.> coped Rena with the situation. They needed reinforcements desperately. They were holding out in their current position for now but for how long could they keep it up? If they did not receive reinforcements, enough concentration of Bryn would be able to break through this side of the frontline.
The Ranger snapped out of his train of thought upon hearing a blood curdling scream from his left.
“AAAAAAH! AAAAH, MY LEEEEEEG!”Derril cried out in pain as he collapsed to the ground, right shoulder first when his right leg was torn off above his knee cap by one of the Bryn’adûl rounds. His rifle clattered on the ground as he dropped it while he fell.
What made the situation worse was that he was in the open. Rounds were landing around the man as he desperately tried to crawl towards his friends. Derril was one of the four that was dispatched to dig out those that were pinned under rubble when the building collapsed. His friends had managed to sprint through the hailstorm of rounds, running cover to cover towards the ruins, but he had run out of luck.
“SOMEONE HELP MEEE! PLEEEEASE!” Derril begged for help as he helplessly tried to crawl towards his fireteam.
His comrades shrunk behind a ferroconcrete wall littered with bullet holes the size of their heads, trying to take cover from the incoming rounds. They were pinned as well. They couldn’t move from their spot to help Derril, or ran towards the ruins.
“Just- Hang in there! Keep your head down!” Shouted one of the militia riflemen at Derril. There was nothing they could do to help him at the time.
Thinking quickly on his feet, the Ranger decided to order his men to return fire and try to suppress the Bryn in return to get the pressure off the small fireteam. “RETURN FIRE! RETURN FIRE, DAMN IT!”
“ARE YOU CRAZY!? NO WAY! NO KARKING WAY!”objected Hozze in fear. His concerns were not for nothing. They could sustain more casualties while trying to prevent them in this situation. The others also hesitated to peak from their covers to shoot back.
But they couldn’t just sit there doing nothing, either. “FIGHT! FIGHT, OR I’LL PUT YOU IN A BODYBAG MYSELF!”Ordered Rena. He very much wished for the Mandalorian to be here with them. That man was cool headed under fire. They could’ve used his leadership here more than ever.
“SHOOT THOSE BASTARDS!”Rena bellowed as he peaked from his cover and started firing towards the muzzle flashes in the distance in controlled bursts. Slowly, others followed suit. Blue blaster bolts trailed towards the Bryn’adûl, in an attempt to suppress them.
The return fire seemed to be working. They were putting the pressure back on the Bryn’adûl on the other side, all the while giving themselves some room for a breather.
“That’s it! Keep up the fire!”The Ranger shouted. “Don’t let up men! We got this!”They had to hold the line until it was all over. It was very hard trying to do that when all they had was nineteen riflemen in total. The casualties were mounting with each volley from the Bryn’adûl.
The return fire from the militia riflemen and Rangers had given enough time for the militiamen to drag Derril out of harm's way. One of the riflemen grabbed him by his battle dress uniform’s collar at the nape of his neck. Derril yelped in pain as his friend pulled him. Blood from his open wound trailed as he was pulled behind cover.
“It’s alright! You’re gonna be okay!”
“Hang in there, Trooper! Come on!”
His comrades tried to embolden him, trying to help him endure the pain. One of them applied pressure a few inches over the torn limb to try and slow the bleeding.
“We got to do something about this! Does anyone have a medkit!?”Newt shouted in panic as he continued applying pressure while quickly glancing at his three other comrades around him.
“Try the field dressing!”Galhan pointed out, referring to the field dressing pouch on their web gear.
Continuing to apply pressure on the blood vessels to slow down the bleeding with his left hand, he fumbled for Derril’s field dressing on his web gear. A few muttered curses later, he managed to find it on him after searching Derril’s web gear. He quickly retrieved a pair of gauze from the small field dressing pouch and unpacked it.
“It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay.” spoke Newt as he applied the bandage, trying to calm Derril -and himself- down while applying the gauze.
In between Derril’s muffled cries, Newt managed to wrap the severed limb with it, but it wasn’t going to stop the bleeding. He had one more gauze left, but that was it. The field dressing pouch given out for the militia didn’t contain anything else. <Kark damn it…>
His mind raced to find a solution. He had to find a way to slow down the bleeding -and fast- to prevent Derril from bleeding out. After thinking for a few moments as he continued applying pressure on the wound, he brightened up. He had an idea!
“Hey! Galhan, Sturges!”
Galhan and Sturges turned to look at him as soon as he heard Newt shouting for him.
“Yeah?”
“Give me his helmet and take the gauze. Position the dome directly on his right thigh firmly and tie around the gauze tightly!”Newt wasn’t a medical professional by any means, but knowing where the major arteries in a human was pretty much common knowledge. Pinching off that artery with enough pressure with an object like the helmet could slow down the bleeding, enough for a medic to arrive!
Galhan and Sturges followed Newt’s instructions swiftly. Galhan unbuckled Derril’s chinstrap and removed his helmet swiftly. He then turned the helmet upside down and set the dome of the durasteel helmet where Newt told him to. He applied pressure on the major blood vessel with the durasteel helmet.
Sturges then quickly took the last remaining gauze and fastened it around the helmet tightly to keep both the pressure and the helmet in place.
“Okay. He’s good!”their mood lightened up a bit when they successfully slowed down Derril’s bleeding.
“You’re gonna be fine! Hang tight, brother!”
“Oh god, it hurts! Aaah, kark…”
“We’re gonna make them pay for that, don’t worry!”
“Rena’s already working on that, hahah!”
Now that Derril was fine, they could help the militia riflemen stuck in the rubble. Remembering that quickly, Newt looked at Galhan and Sturges before he spoke.
“One of us needs to stay with him, with the other two digging out the ones trapped underneath that damned rubble.”
“You stay with him!” said Sturges, as he reached for his DC-15A blaster rifle. “I and Galhan got this.”
“Okay! Stay safe out there! Keep your heads down! Karking Bryn are bringing hell on us.”
After a curt nod, the pair of riflemen leaped out of their cover and sprinted towards the collapsed building while under fire. The firefight was drowning out the shouting and yelping of those who were trapped under the rubble.
They leaped from cover to cover, occasionally ducking and crawling when rounds flew overhead. After a few moments they had made it to the collapsed building. There was rubble everywhere. The muffled shouting of the militiamen that had garrisoned the structure became louder when they were close.
They quickly threw their rifles on the ground and reached for their Entrenching Tool from their web gear and started to dig out parts of the rubble to reach them. “We can hear you! We can hear you! Hang in there!” shouted Galhan, fueled with adrenaline as he pushed, and lifted the rubble away with his hands; trying to dig out the rubble to reach his comrades trapped underneath it.
---
The return fire was working. They had gotten themselves a wiggle room as a result, and saved Derril, and they hadn’t gotten any other casualties from the Bryn’adûl for now, despite a few very close calls.
But their success over Bryn'adûl would be short-lived. Aside from a number of muzzle flashes in the distance, three red dots appeared and grew in size on the Bryn’adûl’s side of the frontline. A few moments later, the unknown contacts unleashed their salvo.
Unknown to the platoon, the creatures returning fire at them were called Rhivaks. The monstrous creatures unleashed a salvo of continuous beams of ionic red plasma at them!
“Ah, chit! GET DOWN!”Rena shouted, as he ducked behind his piece of cover.
The ground beneath them trembled as the beams struck the cover and buildings alike, garrisoned by the militiamen and a few Rangers; columns of earth, rubble and body parts were lifted into the air and scattered around a fifty meter radius.
The right flank had completely collapsed as a result of the Rhivaks’ first volley, with a number of buildings within the perimeter collapsing from the blast; their foundations finally giving way from the sheer punishment they had endured thus far.
Peaking out of his cover amidst the chaos, Rena saw another power spike from the monstrous creatures. They were powering up for another volley in the distance. They were going to finish them off.
But the sudden sonic shrieks coming from their side of the frontline interrupted the Rhivaks. A number of sonic blasts trailed their way towards the hulking beasts in the distance. Confused, Rena looked to his right to see who it was. It wasn’t any of the Rangers or the militia riflemen, that was for sure.
To Rena’s and the platoon’s surprise and much praise, the Ranger spotted a number of Gweld-class CAV’s in the street to their rear, opening up on the 3 Rhivaks with their turret mounted LR1K Sonic Cannons. The rear ramp of the CAV’s swiftly lowered; the infantry within disembarked from the armored confines of their vehicles with haste and ran towards nearby cover. Relief was finally here!
“REINFORCEMENTS! REINFORCEMENTS HAVE ARRIVED!” Rejoicing at the sight of friendly reinforcements, Kohan informed the rest of the platoon with glee.
“Oh you beautiful babies, yeah!”Rena cried out in joy at the sight of reinforcements!
“Let’s gooo! Pour it on them! Let them have it, come on!” Now reinforced by the elements of the 666th Mechanized Infantry Regiment, the militiamen and Rangers doubled their efforts to hold the line; the southwestern SJC frontline erupting with the sound of a hundred blaster bolts, sonic cannons and assault rifles alike, stabilizing that side of the frontline for the time being.
The rubble and debris crunched loudly under the boots of Kranak and his small fireteam as they sprinted towards the Bryn’adûl side of the frontline, passing through No Man’s Land in the process; moving from cover to cover, leapfrogging forwards with their guard up. They were double timing to reach the wounded, trapped on the wrong side of the frontline. They had crossed a significant stretch of land already.
[“Come on, we’re almost there, guys.”] The giant’s HUD indicated he had about a hundred and fifty meters of ground left to cover. They would be within line of sight of the trapped friendlies soon.
“Yes sir!” Adriean replied in between huffs and puffs while sprinting.
With the movement of his eyes, he enlarged the probe droid’s live-feed in his HUD while continuing to sprint. The probe was relaying valuable reconnaissance data to all friendly ground forces in the area of operations, including himself.
He was checking for enemy troop movements within his current sector, but the sudden energy discharge indicated by the probe to the west caught his attention. Assessing the violent energy discharge, the probe notified Kranak of the detonating seismic charge. According to the calculations the giant received in his HUD, the blast would be hitting them in a few seconds.
[“Haarchak! Everyone, hit the deck! Open your mouths and cover your ears!”] shouted Kranak as he dove to the ground to minimize his exposure to the shockwave from the seismic charge. The small fireteam followed suit without a word.
They had taken cover just in time. The shockwave violently swept over them. The weakened structures close and far collapsed from the blast; the very ground beneath them trembling in the wake of the explosion, shaking them all to their core.
But the after effects of the seismic detonation passed swiftly after a few seconds. The giant stood up slowly and looked over his right shoulder at the riflemen. [“Is everyone okay?”] Kranak hoped they were unharmed. He had given them instructions to mitigate the effects of overpressure, but was it enough?
He was relieved to see they were relatively unharmed from the shockwave when the militia riflemen slowly stood up in between coughing and huffing.
“Ah! Son of a mudscuffer! What the hell was that?” asked Dash in surprise.
“Cough coughDamned if I know.”replied Barlos to Dash's question.
[“Seismic charge, from one of ours.”] the giant heaved a sigh before he continued. [“Come on, we got to-”]
He was interrupted from an incoming barrage of enemy fire from his left flank. It was a small fireteam of Juggernauts armed with Assault Carbines, about seventy five meters in the distance. A number of rounds hit the giant center mass. He stumbled backwards as the rounds hit him. The kinetic force behind the gigantic rounds was massive. But thanks to his personal energy shield, he was still alive. But blocking the lethal rounds came at a cost. The shield dissipated upon receiving immense punishment, entering a cooldown phase before it could power up again.
“Oh chit!”exclaimed Adriean as he ran for cover.
[“Hit the deck! Return fire!”] shouted the Ori’ramikad as he went prone swiftly to minimize his silhouette. As soon as hitting the ground, he flicked the fire selector switch from “SEMI” to “AUTO”. Lining up his sights, he gently squeezed the trigger and fired off a salvo of five blue blaster rounds at the closest Juggernaut.
His fireteam followed suit as soon as he opened fire at the Juggernauts; their rifles howling with each pull of the trigger; with the blaster bolts and rounds from the Bryn’adûl’s Assault Carbine lighting up the patch of ground between them, albeit briefly.
But Kranak had no intention of getting himself into a drawn out firefight with the enemy. He had wounded personnel to attend to, awaiting reinforcements. He had to finish the fight swiftly.
The five Bryn’adûl Juggernauts had smartly taken defensive positions behind cover. Two of them had swiftly taken shelter within the ruins of a building, but it did little to cover their immense size and stature.
[“Stay calm, lads! Focus your fire on those two, in the ruins over there!”] shouted the giant Ori’ramikad, directing the fire of his small fireteam towards the two Juggernauts to suppress them.
“Yes, Sarge!”the fireteam answered in unison.
Upon receiving his orders, the fireteam let loose at the two, designated gigantic foes. The ensuing salvo of blue blaster bolts on occasions struck their armor, but mostly struck the ferroconcrete remains of the ruins they were using as cover. It did the trick. Kranak only needed those two staying put.
He swiftly switched to the underbarrel grenade launcher on his Paranaor Blaster Rifle and adjusted the range quickly. He already knew the targets were seventy five meters away in the distance. He squeezed the trigger of the underbarrel grenade launcher not a moment after lining up the firing solution from memory.
* T H U M P *
The High Explosive round flew in the air with a faint whistle during its flight towards the two pinned Juggernauts. A few seconds later, a small column of rubble and earth was lifted in the air upon impacting the ground between the two Juggernauts. The explosion and the overpressure that ensued sent bits and pieces of the armored Juggernauts scattered in a twenty meter radius.
The small fireteam rejoiced at the sight, praising the Mandalorian. But their glee was short-lived as the Juggernauts took action as a response to the Ruus’alor’s tactic. Enraged from the passing of their comrades, with a ferocious, inhuman roar the remaining three remaining Bryn’adûl Juggernauts leaped out of their cover and charged the Ruus’alor’s position.
The ground trembled beneath their armored feet, shrugging off the blue blaster bolts hitting them dead centre as they sprinted; spending the remainder of rounds left in their Assault Carbine’s magazines at them as they charged.
Kranak had never seen such large beasts -sentient or not- moving as fast as these Juggernauts. He respected their ferocity, like any warrior would.
The giant leaped into action, however. He wasn’t going to let these damnable beasts trample the militiamen in his fireteam. The giant swiftly stood up and let go of his grip on his Paranaor Blaster Rifle and waited for the Juggernauts to get closer; the giant stood unopposed, his arms seemingly hanging limp at his sides.
The Juggernauts were coming closer with each second. They had crossed a thirty five meters distance in a few moments. The militia riflemen continued to rain down fire on them; blaster bolt after blaster bolt struck their chestpiece. Some of the bolts seemingly punched through their armor, but to no visual effect on the targets.
“Uuh, Sarge?” spoke Adriean with mild concern to the inaction of his Sergeant as the young rifleman continued opening fire.
“Sarge!?”the young man repeated himself another time to stir Kranak into taking action. The Juggernauts had closed the distance significantly now. Twenty meters remained between them, and they were closing in rapidly.
“SARGE!”
The giant Ori’ramikad swiftly sprung into action when the distance between the fireteam and the charging Juggernauts were reduced less than ten meters; [“Clingwire.”] with his HUD receiving the verbal command, he launched clingwire from his right vambrace mounted whipcord thrower at the Juggernaut’s legs in front of him. The clingwire coiled around the creature’s legs firmly and tripped him face forward on the ground. Due to his speed, the tangled Juggernaut drifted on the ground towards the Mandalorian.
The tangled Juggernaut had stopped drifting half a meter in front of the Mandalorian. He swiftly lowered his right arm and stepped forward to finish off the Juggernaut easily. The giant effortlessly stomped the impaired Bryn with his left feet by the nape of the Juggernaut’s neck. With a sickening crack, the Juggernaut’s neck gave way under the strength behind his stomp.
Not a moment after he executed one of them, the Mandalorian swiftly raised his left hand towards the remaining two Juggernauts charging at them. With a pre-recorded eye movement, the Ruus’alor activated his CryoBan Projector and spewed CryoBan on the remaining Bryn’adûl with it.
The two Juggernauts that remained combat effective shrieked in terrible pain as CryoBan froze them. They recoiled back from the pain and raised their giant hands to shield them from the merciless cold, but it did little to prevent their fate. They were frozen in place in mere moments. The change in their weight balance caused them to tip over backwards. Their frozen bodies shattered into tiny frozen chunks upon falling to the ground.
The firefight was over as fast as it had begun, leaving silence in its wake. Only the sound of battle happening over in the distance disturbed it. The militia riflemen were dumbfounded from the events that had unfolded. They had heard stories about Mandalorians in their life, but had never seen one in proper action, until now.
[“Come on, we got to move,”] said Kranak, breaking the silence as he reached for his Paranaor Blaster Rifle suspended over his chestplate by its sling. [“Sound off, everyone!”]
He reloaded his grenade launcher as he spoke. His right hand clutched the pistol grip of the blaster rifle; his left hand reached for the blaster’s underbarrel grenade launcher’s breech and pulled it forward, ejecting the spent shell from the breech. Retrieving another HE round from one of his pouches, he inserted the new shell into the grenade launcher’s breech and closed the breech by pulling it backwards.
“Adriean, alive!”
“Dash, combat ready.”
“Barlos, ready and able, Sarge.”
There was a short moment of silence as he waited for Ric and Corran to respond, but they didn’t. [“Ric, Corran! Are you alright?”] Shouted Kranak in response to the silence from the two. The others turned their heads towards the rear to see if they were fine. The Ruus’alor passed the three riflemen and quickly paced towards the rear of the formation.
It took a few seconds to find their bodies. They were within close proximity of each other, laying on the ground, unmoving. There were a number of large gaping holes on their chests, with blood pooling on the ground around them.
“Dear god…” mumbled Adriean, wincing at the sight of Ric’s and Corran’s deformed bodies.
[“There’s nothing we can do for them now.”] said Kranak as he broke his gaze from the bodies and turned around, heading towards their intended destination. [“Come on, the friendlies are this way.”]
“But why!” Adriean ranted angrily at the situation they were in. “Why are we risking our damned lives to save them? Would they even be worth the effort, sir? Worth Ric’s and Corrans lives!?”
The lad had reached his breaking point, and he couldn’t blame him. Everyone had theirs; some were just resilient than others. He was afraid for his life and the life of his friends. That was completely natural, but he could not let fear get a hold of their minds. It could paralyze them, and could get them killed.
Without skipping a beat, the Ruus’alor responded to Adriean, as calm and collected as he could be. [“Because leaving someone abandoned to the mercy of an enemy that lacks mercy to begin with is not the fate I’d wish for anyone, Trooper. Now get a grip, Adriean.”]
His words had an affect on the lad. He visibly calmed from the brief explanation, simmering down. [“Now come on, we need to move. Let’s go! Combat spacing of five meters. Form a wedge on me.”] This wasn’t the time to mourn their deaths. They had to extract the wounded out of there alive.
Adriean and the others followed suit after a short moment, following Kranak’s orders. “Yes Sarge…”
---
[“Cover, now!”] Kranak shouted an order to his fireteam as they approached the ongoing confrontation by the courtyard. Around the courtyard and towards the crater to their north, there were thousands of Bryn’adûl corpses lying on the ground; the earth soiled by their blood. He wasn’t sure what exactly caused their deaths. <Probably the seismic charge’s handywork.> the giant assumed, but he didn’t think they would have this many casualties.
The remainder of his fireteam followed his order and had taken up defensive formations within the ruins of a building nearby. They were about twenty five meters away from ensuing confrontation. There was a Jetii and a fellow vod fighting off two large Bryn’adûl.
“Ah, I don’t have a clear shot from here!” shouted Barlos when getting into position.
“Yeah, me neither, Sarge.”added Dash as he rested his rifle on top of some rubble to increase his accuracy.
“Well I’ll be…” said Adriean in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone alive here. He had assumed the people they were headed to extract were dead or dying. “What do we do, Sarge?”
[“Stay put and assume overwatch positions. Shoot anything you have a clear shot on. I’ll be back.”] Said the giant Ori’ramikad as he vaulted over the piece of cover in front of him, sprinting in a combat pace towards the fight to find the wounded.
[“Friendlies, coming from your rear! Watch out!”] Shouted the Ruus’alor as he moved from cover to cover while he sprinted towards the courtyard. Kranak would be trying to locate and extract any and all wounded personnel from the area into safety before first aid.
Position came under heavy fire by Bryn'adûl forces in the form of retaliation upon entering the engagement.
Sustained heavy casualties with at least four wounded.
Ordered Troopers to return fire to aid a wounded comrade.
Engaged five enemy Juggernauts while on the way to aid allies. Dispatched all five of the enemy opposition. Sustained two casualties in the process.
Ordered the remainder of the fireteam to hold position on overwatch upon reaching friendly elements pinned down in the Bryn'adûl side of the frontline.
The Platoon Sergeant, as well as the medic dispatched to extract wounded and friendly assets from the Bryn'adûl side of the frontline.
Her face darkened at the subtle scolding from her brother, and her expression turned into something listless while she went back to a place in their memories where their father would lecture her during sparring sessions. She’d had a personality once, but the patriarch Ashina had sought fit to erode that almost entirely. Make her as smooth as steel.
That neutral expression brightened though when he seemed to support her challenge.
Words came into her mind, as clear as if they’d been spoken. The words were both matter-of-fact and threatening, but held no heat to them. No sneer or accusation. Ishida felt them like a blow to the chest. Alabaster cheeks rosied quickly. At the same time, her jaw tightened and throat hitched at the implications that came with the warning. She scowled. Little flashes of humiliation blinking in and out of focus. It had the bright, painful feel of touching a fresh scrape.
Being Sardun’s student meant there was no room for missteps. She didn’t try to speak through the blockage in her throat, only remained silent in her shame lest either of them scold her again.
Focusing hard on the recommendations to temper her enthusiasm, she was quiet throughout their deliberations on the plan. Be as cold and sharp as steel. Their teachings sounded like the echo of her father in the recesses of her mind, and she couldn’t help but sidelong at her exiled sibling. He’d been the pinnacle in her father’s eyes, only to crash to the ground as the greatest failure and regret. She’d been born only to best him.
And here she was, being scolded by him too.
Before she went too deep into the holes of her psyche, she was pulled back to focus by instruction.
Wide-eyed, she blinked and something in her gut shifted. About the same time the Alliance assault vehicle started to feel the turbulence from the command.
The ruby shield shone with an eerie metallic glow.
Ishida’s breath grew faster in anticipation while their ship buffeted and her teeth clenched against the turbulence.
<Attempting to pass through the shield!> The Pilot announced through the comm systems. A few muffled sounds came through the speakers, before popping and snapping like static.
<We’re stalled out. Too much interference.>
The turbulence continued, rattling the inside of the ship as it was slowed to a sluggish pace. <Systems failing!> The crew communicated, and Ishida glanced toward the Jedi Master’s resolved expression. Now or never.
“We can’t stay in this ship.” Ishida deduced, her bottom lip hardening beyond argument. Be as strong as steel. Decisive strikes. With stomps that seemed far too heavy for someone her size, she stalked to the ship’s airlock and gave it an intense press.
In an instant, the door slid open and gave way to a screaming wind that filled the hull with a banshee-like howl. Everything in the room suddenly drew to the small opening of the ship, and she gripped a nearby railing to keep from being sucked out. Half of the opening was wedged between the red dome –– only a portion of their ship had made it through the bubble before it had stalled.
She’d never jumped out of a ship before. And certainly not into an unknown environment above a genocidal hoard. Following the lines of the shield, she looked downward to where the source of the shield might be. She only communicated it with a point, the howling wind making any shouts superfluous.
Silent as ever, Ishida’s internalizations remained...internal and she closed her eyes, clenched her fists..and jumped.
Everything became a great blur as the wind carried her, tossing and rolling in the turbulence on the other side of the dome before she figured out to open her eyes and try to right herself, tucking her arms by her sides to become more like a bullet than a body.
Radiant heat pressed against her throat and face and everything fell slightly out of focus. The spatters and smears of red in the shield and the conflict of below shifted from diamond points of light to halos to clouds, like the whole universe dissolving.
On Yurb, Beltran had been surprised by the speed with which the the massive Bryn'adul, Tathra Khaeus
, moved. That surprise had very nearly ended in his death. On this day, on this world, he knew with whom he was dancing. That the beast had been able to simultaneously block Laertia Io
's spear strike and Thirdas Heavenshield
's axe strike did nothing to catch the Lorrdian off-guard.
He'd expected it.
As he had expected the sudden strike toward his abdomen. While Khaeus might have the range and the strength, his speed-as impressive as it was-was not enough. The Force was with Beltran. Aided by the skills he'd learned from Laertia Io
, reinforced by the ruthless instruction of Darth Solipsis
and secured by the mental aid of Jairdain
, Beltran moved so fast that it might seem impossible to those watching.
He'd felt his lightsaber bounce off of the Bryn'adul's armor and he hadn't bothered trying to counter Tathra's thrust. Instead, he leapt to the side in a blur of movement. Even as the Tyrant's axe moved through the area that he had occupied barely a second before, he landed in a crouch. His off hand drew the hand-cannon at his side and fired off two depleted baradium slugs in rapid succession.
Using the Force, Beltran bent the trajectory of the bullets, causing them to circle outward and back around toward the Tyrant's head. On Yurb, Beltran had been a brave man standing against a being who wholly out-classed him. Here, on Sev Tok....he was another animal completely.
***
Captain Harbok Mrawr let out a roar of anger as Galak
sent one of his men flying through the air. His fangs were bared underneath his helmet as he moved to engage the being. While the Bryn'adul had several hundred pounds on the Togorian, they stood at roughly the same height. In fact, with his power armor, Mrawr stood perhaps a little taller.
He levelled his blaster rifle, sending half a power cell's worth of heavy blaster bolts directly at the being. On his shoulder, his automated battle cannon locked on and also sent a spray of deadly energy at the being.
In his peripheral vision, Mrawr could see one of the droid's Galak had taken down, beginning to stir.
He stalked around the larger being, just pouring fire into it and trying to keep the being's attention. Whatever the droid had in store, Mrawr knew that it would be something nasty and, he hoped, agonizing.
Hades Platoon – 50 Rangers – Divided into squads and set up in observation posts outside of the city. Snipers set up to take down high value targets (Bryn officers and the like) and communicate enemy movements.
UPDATE: Linking up with stranded 666th Elements, attempting to secure air transport back to city.
Rangers 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] Infantry – 1800 Rangers – Set up along the outer most wall of Anvil, anchoring key sections of the defense along side SDF and Planetary Militia –
UPDATE: Mortar teams are beginning to pepper the Bryn'adul landing site with shells. Machine gun nests are being set up in an arc around the landing site. Standard infantry is moving to reinforce the 666th QRF's and allied counter attackers. All indirect fire is pretty much being deflected by Thunder Dome at the moment.
663[SUP]rd[/SUP] Mobile Artillery – 64 Rangers - Set up inside the walls alongside other artillery units for priority fire missions as needed - UPDATE:Wiped out by Epitaph's landing.
666[SUP]th[/SUP] Mechanized Infantry – 1000 Rangers in CAV vehicles with minor armor support –
300 Rangers and CO currently deploying thermonuclear mines at possible Bryn’adul landing zones outside city.
UPDATE: Approx 200 Rangers currently stranded due to power loss of unknown origin. Moving on foot toward Hades Platoon positions. 100 Rangers returning to Anvil. Mines deployed.
UPDATE: 100 Rangers returned to Anvil, currently moving through main city gates. Moving toward Epitaph landing site to engage Bryn'adul. 200 Rangers currently linking up with Hades Platoon, seeking air transport to city if possible.
600 divided into Quick Reaction Forces (100 Rangers each), located in middle levels of city.
Utilizing Gweld-Class CAV’s for quick movements.
UPDATE: All six quick reaction forces engaging Bryn'adul now (600 Rangers and vehicles). Most are inside the Thunder Dome, heavily engaged with Bryn'adul forces. (Approx 200 dead or wounded atm)
UPDATE: BOMB detonation kills several front line units. (Approx 350 dead or wounded atm).
Paladin Company – 150 Rangers – Deployed to top most level of Anvil, all utilizing A.I.P.S battle suits in defense of Shield Generator - UPDATE: Currently holding position at shield generator. Not happy about it.
UPDATE: Shield deactivated, Paladin Company moving toward Thunder-dome-murder and mayhem on their minds. Paladin Squad arrives, begins to slaughter Bryn like it's their job....mostly because it is.
UPDATE: Engaging the Bryn near Galak
's position. Captain Mrawr is attacked Galak directly.
Red and the two squads pushed through the alleyways, turning around corners, and moving deeper through the city. Red led the way, with the squads following after him. They had their weapons pointed every direction, scanning the buildings and the surrounding area for hostiles. So far, they hadn't encountered any resistance, but you never knew when there could be a sniper laying in wait, just itching to shoot someone.
Eventually, they broke out of the alleyways, now on the main streets. Further down, Red could see fighting, but Red and his squad hadn't been noticed yet, luckily.
"Come on, just up here, in this building." He told the squads, motioning at a relatively intact, 3 story building. Leading the squads inside, he looked around, combing through the building. Small bits and pieces of rubble lay on the floor, and other assorted junk also lay on the ground. They moved through the building, sweeping all of the rooms. Once the first floor was cleared, they moved up to the second floor, and began the process again, scanning the rooms, and systematically sweeping the floor.
Red opened a door to one of the rooms, and found it.
There, on the floor, sat the warhead, just sitting there. What it was doing here, and how it had gotten here, Red didn't know. His missions usually never told him specifics, such as how or why these predicaments occurred. And Red never asked any questions he didn't know the answer to. If it didn't pertain to the actual mission, he didn't need to know the explanation of how they got into this situation.
"I've found it!" Red called out to his squadmates. "Continue to search and secure the building, see if you can find anything else!"
Red walked into the room, and crouched down next to the armament. Around the bomb were the dead bodies of multiple Rangers and Militia. All of them had been brutally killed, blood and gore all over the place. Many of them still had looks of terror on their faces. "What the hell happened here..." Red mumbled to himself.
Red raised his hand back up to his helmet, and contacted Ops Command again. "Command, this is Epsilon-11. Send Traffic: we have located and acquired the device. Repeat: we have the device."
"Copy, Epsilon. Hold current position. Standby for further instructions. Command, out." The communications officer for command said, before shutting down the transmission.
Red sighed, before this time contacting Thirdas Heavenshield
. "Heavenshield, Heavenshield, come in, this is Red, designated Epsilon-11. Heavenshield, if you're still breathing, I've got good news for you. We have secured the device. Repeat: we have secured the device. Currently holding position on the device, awaiting for the dome to come down, over." Red said into his commlink.
Red stood back up, looking around. Well, he should probably get to work setting up traps and defenses. Firstly, he got to work disarming the nuke. It could be rearmed, sure, but only someone with the proper security credentials would be able to reactivate the warhead.
Nothing like working on a highly explosive doomsday device.
A loud boom from an artillery blast shook the shoddily built prefab walls of his hastily commandeered command post. Dust from the durasteel girders wafted down into the motel's lobby like the pollen from Wroshyrr trees of Kasshyyyk on a warm summer day. Gir silently prayed that the next blast was further away. His eyes rapidly scanned the holo-projectors, watching the lines of troops on either side fall back and then push forward once again. An unending struggle. While the Silver Jedi forces often lacked the brute strength of the Bryn'adul shock troops and their gargantuan beasts they made up for in sheer numbers - even now, more ground forces marched into the dome even as low-flying starfighters and gunships from the fleet above slowly hovered into the shield itself. But will this be enough? Surely the Bryn'adul have another trick up their sleeve, even if it's not our accidental ace...He shuddered at the latter thought.
"Did you hear that?" asked one of the troopers.
"Hear what?" said Tilos, "there's too much damn artillery fire out there to make much of anything..."
Gir frowned as he turned to face the Hellfighter, "What did you hear soldier?"
"I don't know...something like a twang?"
"That's an odd sound," said Tilos.
If this had been any other sort of battlefield, I'd be worried right now that we were about to be infiltrated and then assassinated. But the Bryn have never really been about stealth, have they? For a moment, the man could only imagine that the hulking brutes that had made up the bulk of their ground forces in the past. Yet he had heard some reports during this battle about encountering a much smaller than normal bryn'adul trooper - smaller than even than him if the reports could be believed. That brought another frown to his face. If the bryn'adul are now smaller than us, they can't possibly have the same brute strength, yet it's hard to imagine them genetically engineering an inferior species in some way...maybe this new species fights differently, using its small size to sneak into places and then ambush people? That'd be pretty devious...He frowned.
"Tilos, take a few troopers outside with you and investigate. The Bryn'adul are employing some new, small species as fighters. Maybe they've finally wisened up to infiltration tactics."
"If you insist sir."
"I do."
Captain Tibbs spared a glance from his flickering holo-projector, "We've linked up with the 98th. They're sending a handful of stragglers up our way to reinforce us."
"What've we got coming?"
"Maybe a half dozen Katarn Main Battle Tanks and another dozen light walkers."
Gir nodded. That's maybe a platoon's worth of vehicles, probably all from different elements of the Regiment so we'll have little cohesion...but at the same time, that's more heavy firepower than what we had originally...As Tilos walked out the door along with a squad of Hellfighters, the man began to envision how to best employ his newly acquired forces. The nascent ground commander inside him thought of simply employing the classic blitzkrieg tactic of using armor to crush enemy infantry forces while his own Hellfighters could follow behind him. I wonder what Tilos would think of that? He seems more practical than Tibbs over there...He brought his comlink up to his lips.
"Tilos? What have you found out there...hopefully nothing. There's an idea I'd like to discuss with you."
Yet even after waiting a handful of seconds, he received no reply. He felt a coldness squeeze at his heart. His right hand immediately went down to rest on his sonic pistol, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Sensing their new commander's unease, several of the other Hellfighters within the room began to don their helmets and ready their weapons and aim them at the doors into the room. The admiral took a deep breath in before turning the comlink on again.
"Sergeant Tilos, you better reply back to me this instant if you don't want a court-martial headed your way...assuming we both survive this..."
Maple Harte
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Tegan Starfall
| Open
