Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Battle for Clantaano III

[Osam]

Objective A
Post 2

It was becoming harder and harder to claw and cut at the oncoming thugs. The issue arose due to several causes: The blood was beginning to coagulate underneath the lethal tools, making it more difficult and uncomfortable to use them, it was beginning to stick whenever it made contact with cloth or fabric, and his arms were beginning to grow increasingly more weary as fatigue began to overtake him. The massive brawl must've gone on for at least fifteen minutes now, considered the hybrid as he shifted himself behind a squad of allies, letting them take the brunt of yet another charge.

Normally, the Sraelvun and their allies would've managed to mow down any force which attempted to get in too close to them, utilizing their Spiker rifles to turn them into mulched chunks, but these raiders had known their terrain well, and managed to overtake the invaders before they had found their footing. It was not as if though they were genuinely forcing them back, or even winning the brawls per se, but the thugs had faced violence of a similar kind in the past, and it showed in their constant hit-and-run waves hammering away at the forces of the Bryn'adul.

The Brutes would've torn through this crowd as if though it were nothing at all, but the Sraelvun didn't possess such superior strength. They were fierce and savage, but so were the defenders. It was a more "even" fight than anyone might've expected from the inhabitants of Clantaano. Osam observed for a moment as one of the raiders sprinted forward, bodychecking a Drone and digging what appeared to be a mining tool deep into his chest a half dozen times before another Srael managed to tackle him from behind and tear him to ribbons.

There had to be a better way to deal with all of these bodies. Osam wished he knew what it was.

 

[Galak]

Post: Four
Tags:
Objective: B

It was a sight of great relief when the Ra'mak came over head, tee massive beast roared as its cannons opened fire; melting the turrets into little more than slag with only two of its cannons, its other obliterating other groups of defenders. The adrenaline ran through him, the urge to leap from cover was almost all consuming. He was first, always first. The Emissary Brute shifted his automatic into his right hand, holding it by the barrel as he wrapped his left arm round the edge of the cover before leaping over the edge.

"Push! With me!" He cried, darting through the rain of blaster fire that came from the now ruined building.

Quickly Galak raised his rifle, firing off a dozen spikes from his weapon at a group to his right, then another to his left. He dropped one, but she was quickly replaced with a larger alien he didn't recognise; one carrying what looked like a shoddily made launcher. The Brute knew, even low payload rockets would take a leg. He kept moving as the other Brutes rushed to join him, but kept the launcher in his periphery until it fired.

The Brute immediately activated the shield on his left gauntlet, raising it to block as the rocket slammed into the shield; destroying a portion of it and knocking Galak back, the Brute shifted his weight; bringing both arms above his head as he recovered quickly, rolling upright as he took his RAW from the ground; opening fire at the rocket launcher trooper and dropping him with three spike rounds to the chest.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: One
Tags: Naramphra | Galak | Osam |
Objective A

It wouldn't take long for Clantaano's city of Kordo-Tad to fall. The Bryn'adûl were ruthless, but even their powerful infantry alone would not be fast enough to halt the escape of those who had previously inhabited the planet. The Ra'maks in the sky would deal with that, including assisting their own infantry.

One such example being what he was observing below. The Primarch rode upon a large Ra'mak, an alpha of their species. Its arsenal was more than tenfold of a traditional Ra'mak. The great beast allowed him many benefits in terms of combative abilities but it also allowed him a great view of the battlefield.

From below, he could see the great beasts they had deployed and their infantry fighting beneath to control the battlefield. From here, the Primarch was able to co-ordinate their Ra'mak air forces in co-ordination with the Artificers of the Fleet and their thousands of Phedrak Fighters.

 

[Galak]

Post: Five
Tags:
Objective: B

The Brute immediately activated the shield on his left gauntlet, raising it to block as the rocket slammed into the shield; destroying a portion of it and knocking Galak back, the Brute shifted his weight; bringing both arms above his head as he recovered quickly, rolling upright as he took his RAW from the ground; opening fire at the rocket launcher trooper and dropping him with three spike rounds to the chest.

From above, a horrible rending sound echoed as a massive shadow engulfed the battlefield. All participants of both sides looked upward, hearts jumping into their collective throats as a skyscraper shattered into dozens of pieces, dropping like meteors down on their vicinity. Galak looked back to his Warriors, then to the cover currently occupied by hostiles.

"10th! Into the covers!"

Galak sprinted as hard as his feet could carry him, running with rifle in hand. The ground shook and tore, causing him to trip over himself; catching his own mass with his hand before he fell down fully. He couldn't stop moving or he'd be crushed, forcing himself to step forward as he propelled his upper torso upright as he looked up, eyes growing wide as he a section of the Skyscraper came crashing down right in front of him.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Two
Tags: Naramphra | Osam | Galak |
Objective A

The great Ra'mak Alpha wove through the sky, using its many beams to generate a devastating beam of energy, rippling down and tearing through buildings as it went. The Primarch turned his head, his affixed gaze shifting as he sensed something.

The battle was far off yet he could feel the tightening grip of the Bryn'adûl forces slowly overwhelming their enemy. More specifically, Tathra fighting a vicious battle against a powerful force user. A Jedi, most likely. The sensation of the vitriol, rage and battle sent a shiver down his spine.

It was exhilarating, another tall skyscraper collapsed under the pressure of the Alpha Ra'maks tribeam, a small shockwave erupting with a wave of ash into the air. Beneath them, Drek'ma watched as the ant-sized Clantaanians were consumed in the ash. A twitch of a grin marked his face before quickly fading.

 

[Tarad Morko]

Post: Eighteen
Objective: Kill Tathra
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

Tarad stepped back again as his foe took another forward. He was frustrated, allowing their leader to slowly chip away at him throughout the duration of the fight. This lull in the combat, it wasn't just by happen chance. They both knew their next exchange would be their last. He at least was beginning to sense that intention from his enemy, the confidence was frightening. But he couldn't let it get to him.

Even in his prime, he had never been the greatest of warriors. He believed he'd put up a fair fight, he hoped he had fought well. The only solace he could take now was that their leader was here rather than somewhere else leading a slaughter. Perhaps all his efforts could ever achieve would be the survival of a few more.

That would have to be enough.

Tarad groaned, sighing with some contentment as the remaining double-bladed saber fell from his grasp. Tarad now held the single blade staff-saber in all four hands, pulling the weapon close to his chest as he waited for his opponent to strike.

 

[Galak]

Post: Six
Tags: TBD
Objective: B

Galak backed up slightly, sliding back on his feet as the massive chunk of building crushed the ground ahead. Galak put his arm in the way of another Brute, halting their run before they could get crushed.

"Go around! Move! Go!" Galak put his hand on the Brutes shoulder, pushing them to move around the crumbling surface before they were entirely cut off from finding cover.

Dozens of chunks fell around them, the rest of the bridge behind them swallowed by debris. Ash and soot kicked up into the air as suddenly Galak couldn't see two feet in front of him, couldn't see his teammates. The blaster fire stopped, everything stopped. Screams were distant, his eyes darted around seeing only the outline of what looked like the interior of a building.

Galak leapt forward, clambering into the building. The ceiling came down around him, and the last thing he saw was the outline of something large, maybe metal crashing down toward him. Then everything went black.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Eighteen
Objective: B
Tag: Tarad Morko

His eyes held the gaze of the Jedi, shoulders locked as he hunched over himself. The Long-Axe's golden shaft gripped tightly in his crimson paws as he watched for even the slightest shift in movement. For every turn, Tathra half-stepped closer. He's teeth were bared, sharp pearlescent piercers clashing together in a vicious grit.

The Titan halted his advance as the Jedi dropped his remaining Staff. He would not lose his victory to a cheap killing blow, instead he waited. When the Jedi took a new stance with his now single bladed lightsaber , Tathra responded in kind, taking two steps back and giving the Besalisk Jedi the room to move. Tathra switched his dominant hand into a reverse grip, raising the pommel end of the Axe upward in a right grip close to his chest with his left arm low.

Tathra's grin disappeared, a focused calm taking over as his heart slowed; eyes dulling as he waited for the Jedi Master to recommence the combat. Tathra might've been a fool to give him a chance, but if he beat him all the same - he would be stronger for it.

 

[Tarad Morko]

Post: Nineteen
Objective: Kill Tathra
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

There was no hesitation. He knew his enemy was drawing him into the combat, perhaps the red titan carried some twisted sense of honour. But in truth Tarad would never know. He pooled what little energy he had into his body, his speed and his strength all pushed to their upper limit.

This was it.

Tarad darted forward with one powerful stride into a flurry of blows toward Tathra. No doubt Tathra could overpower him, but if Tarad kept leverage; he could maybe get inside the red beasts guard.

 

[Osam]

Objective A
Post 3

A loosed Spiker round went wild, sliding through the crowd like a vicious beast. It had almost certainly been aimed at a specific target, but with all of the jostling and brawling still being undergone, it had likely been thrust aside and the round sent flying. Finally, the superhot metal found its mark in a nearby structure, boring a hole through its wall in the process and exposing a number of natives to the eyes of the encroaching invaders. They'd finally begun to win greater and greater ground against the fiendish raiders as the fight had worn on, demonstrating the difference between the battle-ready Sraelvun and the hit-and-run affluent Clantaano residents.

With every passing minute, more and more of the cityscape was thrown into desolation, leading the surviving defenders to flock to their assorted leadership for answers to the growing problem of the Bryn'adul. Unfortunately, there were few answers that could be provided to these ailing gangsters, as methods of both escape and combat grew increasingly more difficult. Desperation made itself manifest in the actions of the fledgling bandit race as they defaulted to the normal responses of flight-or-fight, attempting to save their own hides or those of their offspring from the raging fire of the Crusade.

The tide which had struck against the Sraelvun crag finally broke against its rocky formation, the individuals involved in the striking surrendering themselves to despair as they clung to whatever remained of their chances at survival. At the heels of those who fled were the riled drones and their cousin races, who now suddenly found themselves back in their rightful place as predators and persecutors.

 

[Galak]

Post: Seven
Tags: TBD
Objective: B

The world crept back into conscious reality as the Brute Emissary awoke, finding his surroundings almost entirely silent, the backdrop of combat now distant as it seemed their forces had pushed farther into the city. Galak tried to move, but found himself unable to do so. Pieces of rubble crashed down around his periphery, now realising he had been half buried.

The Brute grunted with distaste as he struggled to bring both of his palms flat in front of him, pushing up to shift the massive slab of duracrete on his back. A groan of exertion escaped him as he brought his knees to his chest, pushing up and to right, allowing the debris to slide off of his shoulder. He instinctively raised his left gauntlet, only then noticing his communication gear had been destroyed.

Who the hell was dropping sky scrapers on them and why weren't they giving tactical read outs? Galak was taken out of his thoughts as he heard something, a murmur or a groan from just beyond the wreckage. Galak turned on his heel and ran to the rubble, throwing away bits and pieces. If it was one of his own, he'd help them. If it wasn't, then he would be the last thing they saw before they died.

 

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Post: Three
Tags: Galak | Naramphra | Osam |
Objective A

In the mist and ash, the natives were blinded, scattered and afraid. Few ran, some hoped they would be assumed dead in the wreckage. That was not the case, like the dozens of small oscillations of energy one could feel in dormant machines, the same could be said of minds and beating hearts.

Flesh was not at all too different. They were simply machines of flesh and blood. The tri-beams of the Ra'mak Alpha cut down into the ground, its victims crying out in pain. It was a mercy in truth, a split-second of agony until they were melted down into slag, leaving nothing but bones and flesh.

When the ash cleared, Clantaano had grown more and more silent as the battle in the city seemed to come to a slow close. Though he sensed something, a conflict on the edge of the battlefield. The Primarch turned on his steed, looking up to the maze of sun syphons, noting the distant flashes of green and blue. He could feel it, Tathra was in danger.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Nineteen
Objective: B
Tag: Tarad Morko |

The Besalisk strode forward as Tathra backed up two steps, ensuring he wasn't cornered on the platform but rather on the bridge with plenty of space to retreat. Even so the Jedi Besalisk reached him, exploding into a flurry of blows with his single blade. Tathra shifted to a two handed grip across the mid-length as he used his centre of mass as an anchor, jabbing back and forth with either end of the Long-Axe to meet the incoming blows as the Jedi seemingly shifted his strikes from right to left with incredible speed.

Tathra caught the last with the pommel of his Axe, and immediately thrust upward with his right arm with to attempt to push the Besalisk guard upward and allow for a slash to the abdomen.

 

[Tarad Morko]

Post: Twenty
Objective: Kill Tathra
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

And there it was, exactly what he'd been waiting for. When Tathra switched from defence to counter, Tarad would reply with a counter of his own; it had been a trap and it was one the red beast fell for. When he attempted to push upward, Tarad brought his saber sideways and underneath the pommel. With all the strength he had left, Tarad pulled down with all four arms, fighting against Tathra's extended arm to push the pommel in a circular motion right and down to finally get inside his enemies guard.

If successful, Tarad would immediately swing outward for both his chest and right arm.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Twenty
Objective: B
Tag: Tarad Morko

The Jedi's blade shifted from horizontal to vertical in a flash as his blade was now underneath the pommel. At this angle, the Besalisk could've shifted to an inward thrust or slid down the length of the pommel to cut some of his fingers off, but instead he choose to try and throw his guard off to the left. Tathra had no choice but to take the hit, and he was happy to.

A warrior with no battle scars was one who had nearly truly been tested, never had to push themselves to best their foe. Not at all a warrior.

He had allowed himself to be lulled into a false sense of security momentarily, which gave the Jedi the edge and thusly the Besalisk had rightfully earned the strike. But Tathra still intended to kill him, as the shaft of the Long-Axe went down and left with the Jedi's parry; Tathra loosened his left handed grip, allowing the shaft to spin in his palm from a reverse grip to a standard one; sacrificing the protection of his right arm as the Jedi's saber struck across the length of his chest. Even wearing the best armour the forgers of the Bryn'adûl could have made, it did not stop the painful surge of twisting muscle and blisters to appear and suddenly sizzle in electrifying pain across his chest. Through gritted teeth, he bared the pain - no true wound was made but the pain was not fleeting.

The saber continued slicing through his underarm and bicep directly, leaving a black scorch through the circular white strokes of war-paint that decorated his forearms. Tathra howled in pain, bringing his dominant hand right to increase the range of his swing as he replied; slashing from left to right with a concise stroke aimed to slice through the abdomen of the Jedi; once just beyond the range of his opponents guard the strike stopped.

 

[Osam]

Objective A
Post 4

Finally freed from the captivity imposed by the clubs and knives of the marauders, the rifle-wielding Sraelvun and their Risen companions were able at last to utilize their ranged advantage to its full. Tired as many of them were, the exhaustion of combat didn't prevent them from banding together into their squads, and occasionally into makeshift ones where casualties made that impossible. Operating like well-oiled biological machines, the squads of Srael raised their rifles towards different portions of the cityscape, firing in unison.

Spiker rounds were massive compared to most ballistics, and their superhot characteristics made them exceptional for punching through armor. What most people didn't consider was that they were also well and capable of annihilating many buildings outright if they struck them properly. The opening salvos of Spiker rounds crashed against residences like a torrential flood, breaking holes through the walls without difficulty, occasionally blowing out chunks of organic matter and foundation in the process. Buildings collapsed entirely as the swarm continued forward, destroying all that they saw.

Triumphantly, the Crusade performed the same tasks it always had, and they would not finish until the city was rubble and there were no Clantaano natives at all.

 

[Tarad Morko]

Post: Twenty-One
Objective: Kill Tathra
Tags: Tathra Khaeus |

His strike had been successful, but came at a cost. When the Titan struck in response, he carved through his abdomen. However their height difference brought the strike up and threw his lower right arm. Tarad felt a jolt of lethal pain shoot through him as the lower right arm fell from his body, bouncing off of the side of the bridge and falling into the battlefield below. Just another piece of the corpse pile.

The split-second of time stretched on for a life-age. Where both stood, growling from pain. The sky had grown dark as the evening came, their silhouettes casting long shadows of the golden beams of energy cast their frames in shining gold like gods. Was the red monster a God? A Titan?

Tears ran down Tarad's face, pain and fatigue creeping in from all sides as his battered lungs strained to cry out in agony. At the end of his swing, his own momentum nearly put his off-balance forcing his left foot to take a half-step backwards as he brought the Staff into his underarm and thrust forward for the Titan's throat.

 

[Galak]

Post: Eight
Tags: TBD
Objective: B

As more rubble came away, Galak found himself prying more and more rock away with no success. He grasped a rather large rock in both hands, raising it slightly so that he could wedge his fingers in between it and what was below. With some effort, Galak tore the boulder of debris away, dropping it at his side to inspect what was below.

Galak froze for a moment, his eyes staring at a gloved hand. A glove that no doubt contained a human hand, and below that what looked like a broken Lightsaber. The jedi was still alive, he must've been coming for Galak when the buildings collapsed around them. He might've killed the Brute Warrior had it not been for the crash. That unnerved him, he could've gone done without a fight at all.

Maybe he should be better than this Jedi. Give him a fighting chance, rescue him from a pathetic death just to kill him anyway. Maybe. Galak stared long an hard, watching as the hand twitched. It felt wrong, just to watch. Without thought, the Brute began moving the rubble away from just above the hand, moving enough away that he could begin to make out the outline of the Jedi's body.

A breath escaped the Jedi. Relief from the weight moved off of his chest, no doubt.

"Still alive?"

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Post: Twenty-One
Objective: End This
Tag: Tarad Morko |

As the Jedi staggered back, Tathra prepared to strike again; believing his foe to be too weary from the combat. But to his surprise the Jedi attacked immediately and with great speed. Tathra raised the Long-Axe , barely catching the glowing green blade of plasma and pushing it upward into a blade lock. Tathra held it for a moment, using both hands to push the Besalisks blade upright, the two Warriors held their position, eyes locked.

Tathra didn't blink, didn't flinch. A low growl escaped him in the lull, eyes widening as he readied for the kill. Tathra's upper body heaved with heavy breathes; adrenaline flowing through his body at a hundred metres a second. If he had pupils, they would be dilated; but there was nothing. Those opaque aureate eyes stared right through the Besalisk. But somehow, they always knew in their gut that he was looking at them.

Tathra moved as a blur, his right hand moving to slam into the upper left wrist and push the Saber to the right in cohesion with a heavy push of his Axe in the same direction, intended to also bring the weapon low and close to his side again.

 

[Tarad Morko]

Post: Twenty-Two
Objective: Kill Tathra
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

The two were engaged in a blade lock, but even with his enemy only using one hand to hold Tarad back, he could feel himself straining to compete. His strength was spent, all that kept him in the fight was sheer will. The red monster seemed to stare at him, through him rather.

In every sense, the Besalisk had been fatigued; doing all he could to avoid going into shock over the lost limb. His attention was split, the battle had - already been lost. So much - lost. The Besalisk furrowed his brow, pooling what tiny amounts of energy he had left and readied to strike.

But it seemed that was what his opponent had been waiting for, as soon he even flinched; the red warrior swiped at him, knocking his saber and arms to the right. Tarad brought his arms into a close defensive guard, conserving his energy as he turned both wrists low and outward, aiming the lightsaber downward with an inward facing curved swing aimed to remove Tathra's head, and bring the blade upright on his left side.

Tarad didn't even wait to see if the blow struck, immediately raising the saber from the left and striking downward at his opponent again.