Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Scourge of Glottal

[Primal Architect]

Glottal Burns
Buildings turned to rubble; billions slaughtered, all of Glottal burning as far as the eye could see. However, one glimmering beacon remains; the last hope of salvation for the denizens of Glottal. The city of Kazad remains the last line of defence for those desperately seeking an escape from the Genocidal wrath of the Bryn'adûl Crusaders. That hope falls on the shoulders of a vigilant few whilst the Marauders of the Bryn'adûl lead their forces.

The front line has been crushed, the Bryn'adûl have swept into the streets and buildings of Kazad. Towers burn, streets slick with blood as the native defenders are outnumbered and outmatched in every conceivable manner. All those who remain can hope to do, is stem the tide - but even then it may not be enough. The Shield Generator; defended by sentry turrets and a staunch defence of heavily equipped defenders, is the last line of defence for the city and those making their way to the shuttles whilst the majority of the remaining forces gather at the Shuttle Bay entrance - holding off the enemy forces at the surface landing strips for as long as they can so the shuttles can prepare for an immediate hyperspace jump from the underground hangars.

OBJECTIVE - A
Destroy the Shield Generator, fight through the heavy defences of the sentry turrets and armed defenders to destroy the Generator. Once destroyed, the city of Kazad will be vulnerable to the deployment of mass forces and thusly ensuring our victory and the halt of their escape.

OBJECTIVE - B
The inhabitants of Kazad and survivors all round Glottal have headed for the last remaining shuttles in Kazad. Every available soldier that could, has headed for the Shuttle Bay entrance - holding out for as long as they can. The forces of the Bryn'adûl within the city have been directed to the Shuttle entrance, a massive battle has commenced on the surface landing strips - the Bryn'adûl forces move to crush all in their path. Butcher those who would dare stand in our way, and destroy the feeble creatures seeking refuge in their technological machines. There will be no escape for these cancerous swine.

OBJECTIVE - A
The Shield Generator must remain functional, defend it at all costs! Without the shield, the shuttles will be unable to escape the occupying forces of the Bryn'adûl, seemingly endless numbers of Drones are reinforced by a dozen Ravagers, Zealot Squads and Sirracus Wyrms. Underground and all throughout the city the Servitors bury city blocks one after the other, slowly encircling the remainder of the defending forces. If the shields fall, retreat the shutter bays and extract!

OBJECTIVE - B
A sea of Savage creatures have engulfed almost every inch of the Shuttle bay landing strip, over a hundred-thousand of these creatures now swarm the shuttle bay entrance. Fighting alongside them are vicious Brutes numbering in hundreds. Shamans lead hundreds of Rhivaks and Brumaks, hammering the defenders position as hundreds of small fights break out through the defensive lines.

BRYN'ADUL - Rahm | Osam | Hraelga Nacht | Hrajlmak'Natok | Krael Vizkla | Kad |
DEFENDERS - Ryv | Weyland Castril | Loske Treicolt | Maynard Treicolt |
NEUTRAL - Velok Brokentusk |

 

[Kad]

Objective: A - Take out Generator
Post: One
Tags: N/A
Equipment: Kukri, Kasurigama, Armour, Spike Rifle, Shredder

Gredak was accompanied by two other Zealots, Elite class. The three lethally trained Zealots moved through the burning buildings, darting through the rubble far above the combat. The sentry turrets were their objective, disabling them would make the work of the Drones much easier. Their trek had taken them behind enemy lines. From up here, things almost seemed peaceful. But that peace was a lie, this world was dying and every feeble creature along with it.

Gredak grinded to a halt, peering out through a exploded hole in the wall. His eyes shimmered a deeper gold; his iris' igniting in rings of orange as his ocular mutagen activated; seeing a great distance ahead. There were a few dozen soldiers on guard, the Bryn'adûl forces had purposefully being diverted from this area. Whilst the main bulk of their attack on the Generator was focused on the western end of the facility, the Zealots would slip in the back entrance and neutralise the objective.

The Zealot took the Spike Rifle from his back, waiting for the two guards on patrol to move before giving the signal to the other two Zealots to move. They moved with haste, darting through the smoke and rubble as they headed for a vantage point. Their sniper would remain at a vantage point whilst Gredak and the third would descend slowly among the Defenders. It wasn't that great distance from the Generator, but they would have to make their advance slowly. If the Sentry Turrets spotted him, he'd be torn apart.

Didn't help that human constructs were built for their own, stealth required a great deal of patience. At least the kills were easy.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: B
Post 1
Tags: Loske Treicolt Kad
Forces:

Spoiler

70,000 Savage Drones
50 Rhivaks
50 Brumaks

______________________________________

Almost an hour ago

At the head of a vast army, Hrajlmak looked out across the landing strip ahead. The battle to get here had been overwhelmingly successful. The enemy had been on the back-foot the moment the Bryn'adul had made planetfall. That was not to say that the fight was not a challenge. Hrajlmak mindlessly caressed his leg where a glottalphlib had sunk its horn. The world was hot, they breathed fire. The fights were hard and his body was struggling against the environment. But with violence at arms reach and the end in sight, the Shaman was entirely undeterred. He turned to face the tide of primitve Draelvasier. They were restless. Itching to resume the battle. It was there himself and his troops found common ground.

Hrajlmak and his troops found themselves at the tail end of the landing strip. Ahead of them was at least two miles of paved duracrete and along it, the pathetic defenses the glottalphlib had erected. Row upon row of fortified line populated by both natives and DSC troops. Seeing them struck a nerve with Hrajlmak. Persistent scum he thought. After Kesh he had hoped they were all but eradicated. But if not Kesh, then today. And with eradication in mind and victory at hand, the advance began.

The Rhivaks and Brumaks fired their first salvo and with it, a glorious cacophony of primitive voices erupted. A bell that tolled the end of yet another weak world. A combination of fully-charged black orbs and beams of ionic energy decimated the first line with ease. When the artillery made contact, Hrajlmak sent 40,000 of his Savage drones straight down the strip to meet the defenses head on. The other 30,000 were sent on a longer route to flank both sides. The artillery would continue to fire at greater and greater range to soften up the following lines for Hrajlmak's blitz.

Presently

Hrajlmak roared at the top of his lungs as he drove his staff through the chest of a glottalphlib. Behind him was a wasteland of rubble and carcasses. Ahead, the shuttle hangar stood relatively undamaged. Artillery had noticeably diminished after numerous Drael tanks had been taken out by heavy opposition weaponry. But they were hopelessly outnumbered and almost entirely surrounded. Now, it was a case of inching through their staunch defense to close the last stretch to the hangar bays.

 

[Weyland Castril]

Objective: Protect the Generator
Post: Uno
Tags: Krael Vizkla | Kad |
Equipment: Lightsaber, Oufit

Saviour complexes were a bastard.

Weyland was already out of breath, again he recognised the signs - again, he recognised the hopelessness. This was a losing battle, hard. All he could hope to do was stem the tide, just long enough to get everyone on those ships including Loske, Maynard and Ryv. They were his responsibility now, and he was going to make sure every single one of them got off this planet alive, alongside every civilian he could manage. Even if he had to carry them on his back.

Weyland switched into a hanging left guard, side-stepping as a burst Spiker rounds flew past him; angling his lightsaber to knock aside the molten residue harmlessly. Releasing the Lightsaber into his right hand as the force empowered him, elevating his agility to allow him to thwart his own momentum; unnaturally gliding upward and running the length of the wall as he decapitated a few Drones, taking his second lightsaber from his belt and he entered a group; cutting down a myriad of the smaller Drones in a blink.

They were smaller than their Brute cousins, but still larger and stronger than a Human. He had to be quick, quicker than them at least and long enough for the Soldiers to clear the closest out before they could drive a dagger into his liver. Weyland put the secondary shoto lightsaber back on his belt as one thrust for him, Weyland just barely brought the strong of his sabers blade between himself and the dagger, redirecting it just in time as he grasped the lower half of the saber with his left hand; pushing it into the Drone's gut and immediately twirling into a pirouette as he ripped the Drone in half, using the momentum of the strike to bring him into a defensive stance.

He was prepared for the next wave, but he could feel the men behind him, demoralised; beaten to hell and back. The ground shook, not even out of eyesight entire sections of city were falling apart. He couldn't blame them for being demoralised by watching their home fall apart. He had to be strong, for all of them.

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

Objective: A, destroy the generators
Equipment: Kukri , Armour , Wendigo Spiker , Hunting Pack
Post: 1
Tag: Velok Brokentusk | Kad

She would've liked to be doing her duty at the shuttle landing base, but while that seemed to be the objective with the most glory to be gotten, the destruction of the generators wasmore of a tactical achievement and Hraelga in her position of Marauder needed such an achievement badly. After all, her victory at Kesh had nearly been burried do the unforeseen rebellion and her scraps with Galak had not been in her favor either.

Overseeing the efforts made to destroy the generators, Hraelga stood atop a small slope, her three Helhas Rhigi, Rhogo and Rhaga clambered up next to her, while she surmised the current progress. The Bryna'dûl had already swept through the majority of the city of Kazad, broken most of the enemy's forces in one fel swoop, but there was still a final, heavy and annoying resistance. Looking at those nearest to her, Hraelga then turned her attention to the sentry turrents and clacked her tongue. "I want the drones to swarm those turrets, distract them while we gather two units of Rhivak to tear those two turrets down at the west side."

It was a long shot, but destroying all those turrets at once would be impossible on her own, perhaps she had to communicate with the other generals, warlords and marauders just in case. "Send word to the Zealot units to keep a close eye on the advance, they are to be the scalpel in this operation. Contact Hrajlmak'Natok that I'll direct an assault on the western turrets, I hope he can make an advance in the east or the center. The chieftain wishes to look upon Kazad and the whole of Glottal as part of his domain, let's not fail him."

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

A large Whiphid dropped out of nowhere with an earthquake of a thud, just downhill from Hraelga Nacht . The Whiphid stood nine foot six, weighed nine hundred pounds, wore an additional weight of simple durasteel armor, and carried a scarred black cleaver.

He leveled the cleaver in question and roared a challenge at Hraelga, because she seemed important and in the land of the Drael 'important' meant 'lethal.'

His name was Velok the Youngest - yes, one of those Veloks. Last week he'd scammed a Jedi prince out of one billion credits, billion with a besh. He was feeling good.

 

[Krael Vizkla]

Objective A - Destroy the Generator
Equipment: Barad Spec Ops Armour
Arsenal: 4 Barad Spike Rifle, Dual Barad Glaive
Forces: 8 Brute Squads, 4 Ravager Brutes, 2 Quilxyn
Tags: Weyland Castril

-----------------------------------------------​

If life were a millennia, then Krael might say that the time between battles had been countless lives. He had spent more time training himself to become a millionfold better than the weak bags of flesh that called themselves strong, whether man or alien, they were all inferior. Inferior to the weakest of Sraelvun servants, inferior to the fighting Drones of the Bryn'adûl, inferior to the less caste of Brute, and most definitely inferior to the 6 metre tall beast that had once been known as Captain Krael Vizkla. He stood now, not as a lowly Brute, but as the pinnacle of Draelvasier combat strength, par only to the Creator himself.

He now stood as the imposing figure of General Vizkla. The Brute that commanded the savage beasts of the Bryn'adûl with little more than a beat of his chest and a guttural growl, or a roar that doubled the lust for gore that plagued the Ravager Brutes. It was this ability that had earned him the promotion, leading his forces through artillery fire, through trenches, breaking down walls bigger than a house, it was this ability that had earned him the privilege to be experimented upon by the Aeravalin. He was no longer a regular Brute, he now stood as the first, and only sentient Ravager Brute.

With a vague backstory out of the way, it was time to return his focus to the battle he had yearned and longed so for. Each of his four arms tightened their grip against the grip of the Barad Spike Rifle. As soon as his grip tightened, he drew the attention of one of his Captains. A Captain that would not be standing where they stood had it not been for Krael's actions on Kesh, a Captain that would be a pile of ash, consumed by the unstoppable wave of death that swept from the sacrifice of an enemy leader.

The Captain gave a low grunt, which Krael returned in kind. As the beastly sound reverberated throughout the enclosed space, the drop pod slammed through a rather large building of some notable cultural significance. All the Brutes save for Krael stumbled slightly at this impact, the General, however, kicked the door to the drop pod clean off, sending it crashing through a wall. He then stepped forward as several more drop pods made similar descents. However, Krael had elected to fill his drop pod with Ravager Brutes, who served him as a soldier to an officer, and his two Captains who made their way immediately over, dividing themselves between the squads.

As was so often the case, Krael's forces had been dropped outside of the objective and been told to get in so forces could be mass deployed, or die trying. As was only fitting for one of the rising stars of the Brutes, who had a consistent success rate. Krael led out a low growl, not dissimilar to a rabid beast. As the growl escaped his beastly mouth, the five Ravagers had launched themselves forward, tearing through the walls of the building they had dropped in, and while the others went ahead, Krael slid the Barad Spike Rifles into holsters on his armour, slowing himself to a brisk walk behind his troops.

Ahead of him the Ravagers charged, laying waste to all terrain and obstacles within their way, living or not. Whatever they missed became the targets of the Brute Squads, who had spread themselves out in Squad Based groups, a rough firing line that covered every last foot of space left in the Ravager's Wake. Very few of the enemy had time to shoot in the general direction of the General's forces, let alone register what had just passed through them, or to pick targets. While Krael did receive the stray or odd blaster fire headed his way, it was nothing his rather unshapely armour did not deflect or absorb. For these were men and women who had just witnessed their defences and comrades, quite literally, torn to shreds before their eyes, and they lacked leadership.

In a way, the Shock Troops had done their job perfectly, perfectly until his forces began to slow, the charge of the Ravager's slowing to a beastly walk. For they had spotted something most intriguing, what one of the weak fleshbags would call a Force Sensitive, specifically, a lightsaber wielder. A low hanging and dense smoke had settled on the path of the General's forces, a smoke that now began to lift as the destruction subsided. Now, it was not the sight of the blade-wielder that had slowed his forces, yet the prospect of giving their leader the honour of the fight. The formation slowly parted as the large figure of the General, who could eclipse a Ravager Brute, walked between them. His four blood-red eyes settled on the man who seemed to be so eager, so determined, to be the victor of a fight that could not be won.

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

Objective: A, destroy the generators
Equipment: Kukri , Armour , Wendigo Spiker , Hunting Pack
Post: 2
Tag: Velok Brokentusk

While she was being bussy leading the troops to try and take down the sentries which stood in their way of complete victory, Hraelga felt the ground shake as a massive beast-like person dropped down to the ground below her, a roar resonating through the air in challenge and defiance. Looking down upon this hairy beast with her golden eyes in a distinct display of disinterest, the Marauder's hand reached instantly for the Wendigo spiker attached to her hip, clacking her tongu once again. "To challenge me, is to court death... go and play with something more of your own caliber, you mutt," Yet again she clacked her tongue loudly, a hiss escaping through her sharp teeth, as she raised the spiker, aming it square at the Wiphid and letting out a volley of shots at the squeeze of the trigger.

"Rhigi, Rhogo...dinnertime," The two smaller examples of the Helhas drones which strayed around her legs jumped down onto the level ground, slowly circling around the Whipid, letting out bloodcurdling growls, thick saliva dripping from their glistening teeth. It was obvious that these two were hungry for some meat and apparently the Wiphid had a large quantity of what they desired attached to his bones. "Rip this mutt to shreds."

Within the blink of an eye the two Hellhass drones changed their direction, charging from two opposite sides at the Wiphid at full speed, ready to snap with their teeth at his legs, both with the intent to rip and tear flesh off of some painfully sensitive spots near the achilis and calves of the beastly opponent.

 

[Ryv]

Objective: Slow the Horde
Location: Tip of the Spear // Point Defense of the Landing Strip
Tags: Maynard Treicolt | Rahm | Osam
Theme: Slayer - God Hates Us All


When the defense of the landing strip began, the thousands of soldiers keeping the Bryn'adûl at bay held a reasonable position. The alien hordes beaten back time and time again, allowing for the civilians of the planet to depart on the first few rounds of shuttles. By the fifth wave of the assault, enough of the defenders laid dead or dying across the strip that it proved impossible to hold them off any longer. The defense fell away into small pockets of fighting among more defendable positions across the landing. Surrounded by a swathe of grotesque monsters on all sides, the defending parties found themselves fighting tooth and nail to escape, all the same as the civilians the initially fought to protect.

Of the Jedi, Ryv managed to rouse Loske, Weyland, and Maynard to join him in the field against the Bryn'adûl. The genocidal horrors left planets burning in their wake, the peoples displaced or dead. Likely one of the greatest to the galaxy at large if left unchecked, the Bryn'adûl chose Glottal as the next in line. Given Ryv's experience with the species, he positioned himself at the head of the landing strips defensive. The priority target of the planet's defensive fell to Loske and Weyland, while Maynard joined Ryv at the strip.

The other padawan's experience in an active battlefield paled in comparison to the kiffar, so Ryv kept an eye on his fellow Jedi. Once the defensive lines fell away, he pushed Maynard and the rest of their squad into a small hangar that housed an available shuttle. It lacked any real weaponry, but it might be the best the defenders would get to escape.

"Alrighty boys, we're up shit creek without a paddle. Maynard, run a diagnostics of the shuttle and get it working. The rest of you, eyes on the exits. We need to give this beautiful bastard as much time as he needs to get this girl in the air," Ryv shouted out the orders before moving towards the opening the group entered through. The rest of the squadron took positions to allow them line of sight on the sealed blast doors and Ryv's position.

 

[Osam]

Objective B: No Survivors
Allies: Rahm
Enemies: Maynard Treicolt | Ryv
Post 1

The defenses of the landing strip had been whittled down to their framework. Osam had not been present when the initial combat here had begun, but the sea of corpses constantly trampled underfoot by the tidal wave of savage drones and bestial creatures was enough to make it clear to the Sraelvun Major that the siege had been ongoing for some time. Within all probability, some of the civilians of Glottal had managed to reach Kazad, and a few of the local residents had probably begun their boarding of the final shuttles long ago, but still, some of the birds remained nested upon the surface, within prime striking range of the predatory Draelvasier.

Osam shrieked a shrill sound, causing his personal squad of six other Sraelvun to pause instantly, just in time to avoid being stomped underfoot by a pack of savages, intent on facing the blaster fire of enemy forces wherever they could find it. The Major despised working alongside the animalistic drones for fear that they might suddenly turn upon their 'allies' and attempt to rip them to shreds, but thus far, whether by the intervention of the shamans and their controlling powers or by methods of strategic directive they had avoided that fate.

Even as the savages were pierced through and through by enemy fire, Osam and his squadron had returned fire with their spikers until the crack of blaster fire had disappeared from whence it had once been. In ranged combat, sometimes it was difficult to tell when an enemy was actually deceased, or when they had only been temporarily silenced by the suppression one poured upon them, but every second that the foe spent in hiding was a meter gained by the Bryn'adul, and the inhabitants of Glottal were quickly running short of space to run.

Ground was gained steadily until Osam and his Sraelvun brethren had managed to reach one of the many small hangars dotting the area of the landing strip. Blast doors blocked the entry into the structure proper, and Osam was immediately reminded of a previous campaign upon the world of Kesh, and the painful wound he had suffered during similar breach-and-clearing. A close-range blaster bolt meant for his head had instead stricken his out-stretched hand, a defensive thrust of the appendage having saved him from an untimely grave, but fusing a pair of his fingers directly to his palm. The surgeries that had taken place afterward had been excruciating and had left the affected fingers; they had been detached from his palm intact, feeling tender upon the pads.

He didn't quite shudder so much as flinch at the idea of a similar experience. Perhaps, he considered, he would make an entryway, and draw some of the meat-shield savages over to soak the initial volleys. Yes, that would be a plan that the Chieftain would have found adequate, and a Primarch might have considered acceptable. Osam prided himself on thinking so strategically on the rare occasions when the dull mind he had been born with managed to strike a spark of intellect.

"Grenadier." He barked, not having bothered to learn the name of the newest replacement for the honored position, and relying instead on the time-honored tradition of calling him by his rank. "Fire into weak walls. Make holes." There was a faint nod of acknowledgement as the Sraelvun moved himself into position, and the Major directed his attention to the remainder of the group. "Make noise. Call to savages. Point to holes."

Simple, but would it be effective?

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Hraelga Nacht 's spikes ricocheted off the matte black cleaver, leaving new scars on the alchemical weapon. As the armored Drael officer spoke, Velok just waited.

The two lean Helhass drones came in to flank him, going low. He lashed out with the cleaver and swatted a drone's head with casual ease. The flat of the blade put the Helhass out of commission, though not permanently.

One durasteel-booted foot came up and down. His heel smashed the other drone's narrow head into the swampy ground. The drone yanked itself out and back before he could flat-out crush its skull.

"Dogs?" he growled, basso profundo. "Is that all you have the guts to send me, little Drael?"

He gestured. The limp, unconscious Helhass became a three-meter-wide lateral pinwheel aimed at breaking and entangling its master's legs.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

//OBJECTIVE// Slow The Horde // Get his ass outta here //LOCATION// The Landing Strip //THEMATIC// Grind //FOCUS// Ryv | Osam | Rahm

​

---

All but a liability with a saber in his hands Maynard elected to wield a blaster in this engagement, focused eyes peering down the sights of his rifle to fire off disciplined three round bursts into the rampaging xenos on their approach. Wearing an parceled ensemble half fit for a pilot and half fit for an Alliance trooper Maynard was only partly prepared for the horrors around him. The sensory envelopment of war not wholly alien but certainly fresh in his mind as followed Ryv's command back into the hangar bay.

"Ah hell man...this is a damn scrap - remind me to stay the fuck home next time you're lookin' for volunteers, Ryv." Maynard said, slinging his blaster rifle over his shoulder as he hungered for heavy breaths, sweat coating his brow as he then shifted his gaze to the shuttle, appraising it briefly before making his way from its aft into the passenger compartment. Immediately he was set on trying his hand at repairing the ship and getting it on the move.

"C'mon Ryv don't flatter me now you handsome bastard- this thing ain't in too bad of shape...just a few minutes and I can probably get this girl cookin'." Maynard remarked before soon enough he threw aside scattered stowage to make his way into the canopy, sitting himself down in the pilot's controls he reeled the throttle to start the ship only for the power supply and repulsorlifts to wheeze out in defiance to the pilot's will over the vessel.

"Son of a- fuck...alrighty that sounded like not what you'd wanna hear but hell I've seen worst shit fly before that's for certain. It'll be a job and a half that's for sure but...nothin' I can't rig on up." Maynard said before soon enough he was fishing through a compartment in the cockpit, strewing out a pack of tools he'd begin to give them a look over for what he needed.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective: B - Defend Landing Strip
Bad Guys: Kad // Hrajlmak'Natok // Osam // Rahm
Good guys: Ryv // Maynard Treicolt
Just a girl


Black skin seared, a string of smoke rolling from the cauterized wound as the Padawan's golden blade struck true on the drone. Having it wedged so deep to the chest, she had to give a forceful yank backwards to distance herself and back into the fray of the ridiculous onslaught of oppressors. The awkward grip of the stab rendered her temporarily inflexible, and she could only adjust her centre of gravity to dodge another leaping drone. It was eagerly racing ahead, while a tank-like creature rushed at the team, hoping to destroy them or push them back even further. A soldier behind her blasted several frantic rounds at the tall, metal-infused creature's chest until it stumbled back, collapsing in a smoking heap.

"What's the count at now, 'sarge?" The Padawan asked, giving a twirl of her blade and tossing her gaze toward the smoking corpse behind her and stepping away from being sandwiched between the two dead multi-armed bodies and wiping sweat from her brow. This place was hot without all the adrenaline-fuelled exertion. The heat made movements tiresome, and many had fallen weary to the tolls of the planet's atmosphere, in addition to the ravaging beasts.

"I think you owe me one." The soldier replied wearily, but appreciative of the attempt to maintain levity. Better to die smiling.

Tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth in disagreement. "Glad your aim is better than your math." She responded, before snapping her attention back to the onslaught of charging tank-like beasts. They were coming in tens, their massive horns lowered for impact. "Oh no, not again." She murmured, and dropped to a knee to ground herself. With a sharp inhale, she drew the attention of her metaphysical ally. Eager to thwart darkness, the Empyrean imbued the girl's limbs with it's intent, manifesting as an opalescent barrier that rolled outward and upward from her palms and stretched into the smoke-laden skies. The bulky, horned masses collided against her barrier and her knee dragged against the tarmac surface, being pushed back by the incredible power of the charging brumak and rhivaks, respectively. The impact jerked through her arms through to her shoulders and she winced at the collision of physical and metaphysical, groaning in protest to the pressure. The tanks were temporarily prevented from moving forward, but didn't hesitate to take another charge at the barrier. Even the tanks were taller than her! Like a pack of hunting wolves, the Drones were hot on the heels of the tanks, anxious to break through the barrier.

If Loske's eyes weren't stinging from exertion, smoke, and sweat, she might have seen the familiar, freshly-scarred face of Hrajlmak'Natok , who was taking a stand amongst his forces in the slaughter of the oxygen-starved Glottalphibs.

There was a command to pull back, with the distance provided, and she rose to stand while attempting to maintain the gossamer bubble. She didn't collapse it until the blast doors were confirmed sealed and the team recouped to receive some direction. Maynard and a few fishy natives followed after him and went to work on their best bet out of the hangar, and she moved to cover the exits.

"Do we have comms with the shield generator team?" She asked, turning from the scene outside to scan over the collected few in the hangar. An amphibious arm lifted.

"They could probably use some reinforcement." It's claws clicked together anxiously, and the girl's frown deepened.

 

[Weyland Castril]

Objective: Protect the Generator
Post: Deus
Tags: Krael Vizkla | Kad | Velok Brokentusk | Hraelga Nacht
Equipment: Lightsaber, Oufit

Weyland and his forces had been able to repel the Drones, the sentry turrets seemed to keep those caught out in the open at bay. But that didn't quite seem the case throughout the area outside of the Generator Facilities Turret range. Weyland couldn't see them, but he could feel them. Something bigger than their Brutes, large maddened beasts far too mammalian in thinking to be simple creatures. They were twisted, strange and ultimately foul.

Weyland cut down another Drone as it came through the cylinder corridors doorway, the rest of his Squad pushing through in the following seconds. The Jedi was about to be quickly overrun when the Sentry turrets whipped around, tearing down the Drones. Outside of the facility was a slaughter, those massive creatures seemed to be lead by something, a large entity. Large, but intelligent. It was giant, close to twenty feet in height! He was the same size as its foot up to its knee.

"That's just ridiculous."

He could feel its eyes on him, but Weyland wasn't alone either. The soldiers following him poured out of the corridor, the nearby Sentry Turrets opening fire on the forces. The large ones gave him the impression they could eat a sentry turret.

"I guess I'm the distraction, then." Speaking to himself under his breath.

The immobile forces of the General would find themselves punished for their Leaders pride, the turrets tearing into the stagnant formation. They would focus fire on the Ravagers, but the biggest one would be Weyland's to contend with. Though that was the way of things - he was sure it would come to him. Weyland leapt a distance away from where the Soldiers were, best to minimalize who or what got in the way. He held its gaze with his own, Lightsaber raised.

 

[Kad]

Objective: A - Take out Generator
Post: Two
Tags: Weyland Castril | Loske Treicolt | Krael Vizkla | Velok Brokentusk | Hraelga Nacht
Equipment: Kukri, Kasurigama, Armour, Spike Rifle, Shredder

Gredak's Kukri turned the Soldiers throat into a oozing blood valley, jerking the bone into an unnatural shape as he yanked the weapon down; pulling the body to the ground, slowing its descent with his other hand as the other two Zealots took a Soldier each themselves. Gredak leapt cover to cover, pulling another into a headlock as he forced the blade through the ceiling of is skull, cutting through both helmet and bone before dropping the body. Ahead, a handful of soldiers stood on guard just beyond a bridge. He'd have to climb under the bridge to get close but any way down was in eyesight.

Suddenly, a distant explosion north of their position drew their attention; giving the three Zealots the chance to drop below, climbing across pipes and grates to get a smidgen closer. With the arrival of Genera Vizkla's forces, Gredak's job got a whole lot easier. Fresh faced soldiers were routed to the defence against Vizkla's horde, whilst Gredak and his fellow Zealot Elite would move to infiltrate the facility.

"Zealot Elite Tenebris moving for Generator facility."

The nefarious Zealot Elite snarled leaping across to a climbable ledge, clambering over and drawing his Spike Rifle. He didn't intend on letting range get him killed, Gredak had no intentions of landing a black marker on his mission list. He'd disabled Generators aplenty before, hopefully this wasn't nearly as desperate as Kubindi.

His eyes darted around constantly, turning corners as the Elite's split up; moving toward different access points of the Facility.

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Objective: B
Post: 2
Tags: Loske Treicolt , Ryv , Maynard Treicolt Osam
______________________________________

The strip was overwhelmed. Yet again, the Bryn'adul's suffocating numbers and nightmarish ferocity proved superior. Hraljmak dug his claws into a DSC soldier's chest and crushed whatever he could lay his fingers on inside. The soldier shrieked in agony before crumpling to the floor. What was left of the hangar's defense began its final strategic retreat. One last fortified line stood between Hrajlmak's savage army and Glottal's exodus. But this one last line was the most desperate. Life had a tendency to strike out with all its strength when the border between life and death became unrecognizable. Life will do all but accept its death. Anything just to breathe a moment more.

The entrance to the hangar was well fortified. The final stretch was dotted with smaller hangars for individual vehicles. These would become the backbone of the final defense. Here the defenders grouped together to form staunch strong-points that would have to be annihilated before the assault could finally knock on salvation's door. Stood right where he needed to be, Hrajlmak had the perfect view to reorganize the assault.

With eyes frantically scanning the battlefield for the information to plan, Hraljmak threw together commands for what needed to be done and relayed them telepathically to every mind under his influence. What followed was rapid formation rearrangement. No delays, no mistakes. Rhivaks and Brumaks grouped up and began simultaneously shelling the main hangar, softening it up for the next and likely final wave. While artillery did its work, any Sraelvun, savage and sentient, were instructed to swarm strong-points in large groups. The savages took to this task immediately while the drones were left to act on these instructions how they wished.

There was something of intrigue on the field. Hrajlmak could feel it. The army separated into large groups to execute the instructions while Hrajlmak felt the air with his senses, trying to weed out what exactly he could feel. Often it was akin to smelling the air. A collection of odors, and one, buried deep, was the one he was looking for... and there it was. His head snapped in the direction of the cosmic energy. A calm voice in a sea of screams. It was toward the hangar he felt this voice that he took himself and a sizeable group of savages and armed drones. As they neared the building, the voice continued to ring bells in his head. The present Sraelvun major began barking orders before Hrajlmak had even pieced together a breach plan. Grenadiers took up positions and began firing explosive rounds at the building's weaker walls. One caved in and from that moment it was a free-for-all among the savages. They piled into the hole and were subsequently shredded to bits by the bottle-neck they were entering. This didn't phase Hrajlmak who strode up to the hole, leaned into a slight crouch, and threw himself through the hole. He burst through with a roar, smacked into a stack of crates and bowled a ball of fire at the first humanoid figure he saw.

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

Objective: A, destroy the generators
Equipment: Kukri , Armour , Wendigo Spiker , Hunting Pack
Post: 2
Tag: Velok Brokentusk

Someone who had some sort of weapon potent and reliable enough to hold off a volley of spikes coming from her Wendigo spiker, that was not a first time for Hraelga, but it certainly was rather rare to come accross those with the skill to actually be able to deflect the spikes themselves. The Marauder watched on as her "hounds" rushed towards the massive furball, hoping they'd be able to at the very least tenderize the meat a bit. However, it sadly seemed that her two male Hellhas had little to no effect on the Wiphid.

While Rhigi managed to avoid being smushed all together, running back towards its master, Rhogo on the other hand got swung towards the Marauder like an underweight, wet ragdoll. A single step to the side was all it took though, to avoid the incoming hellhass hound, Hraelga's sharp claws digging deep within the flung beast's skin to slam it to the ground, where it stayed unconscious. Patting the unconscious Rhogo, Hraelga gave a nod to Rhaga; the female of the pack, to keep her kin safe for now.

"Given your own appearance, I thought you'd have more in common with them," Hraelga sneered as she put away the spiker and grabbed the two Kukri she was carrying. Clacking her tongue and squinting her eyes a bit, the Marauder tensed every mucles within her lower body, curling her back slightly forward as she bent through her knees a slight bit. She was fairly certain that this beast's strength either equalled or outmatched her own, but in terms of speed, there was no equal, not outside of the drael at least. In what could only be seen as a blur through the eyes of an inferior being, she launched herself towards her prey. However her aim was not to strike any sort of deadly blow, but to graze through the fur and skin with her blade right beneath where she assumed the Wiphid's ribcage would be, too mainly cause a nuissance, to slow her prey down and to lengthen the fun of combat.

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Velok roared as Hraelga Nacht 's kukri bit into his durasteel armor just below his ribs. The Drael imparted enough momentum to put the durasteel blade's edge through the plate of the same metal. Velok twisted and lashed out with his matte black cleaver, offering her a stark choice. She could get out of the way of a chest-level counterswing that might smash her armor open like the shell of a tasty crab. Or she could keep the kukri that she'd wedged into his cuirass.

The choice was a fake. A vicious Force choke snapped out faster than his off hand could have done it. The goal here was to slow her, immobilize her maybe, and split her ribcage in half laterally.

Depending on the substance of her armor, anyway. If he connected, it might just send her flying, maybe even shatter his grandfather's favorite cleaver.

 

[Hraelga Nacht]

Objective: A, destroy the generators
Equipment: Kukri , Armour , Wendigo Spiker , Hunting Pack
Post: 3
Tag: Velok Brokentusk

A moment of triumph never lasts long, this was a lesson Hraelga had to learn the hard way. With one of her kukri's biting deep within the wiphid's durasteel armor, the worst possible result came to be: it got stuck and though she should've been strong enough to at the very least pull it out, the situation made it less probable that she'd be able to do it swiftly.

To make matters worse, while she attempted to yank out the kukri, it seemed the wiphid had recovered faster than expected, focing her to jump back only to suddenly be holding her in place with that same kind of "force" those jedis and sith people seemed to use so proficiently. Noticing the fact that the wiphid was preparing to no doubt attempt to cleave her in half with that massive weapon of his, the Marauder cursed slightly, only glad that to hold her in the air with the force this wiphid had to exert himself probably a lot more than he was used to, given the Drael's particular semi-resistance to the force. Not that she thought this would be of any concern for a beast that size.

"Rhaga, attack," From above, the much larger female of the Hellhass drones she employed jumped off of the higher position. However, the hound did not attempt to bite at the wiphid, but attempted to use it's strength and momentum to grab hold of the kukri and to yank it out, which would probably allow for some distraction, a distraction Hraelga would use, as she grabbed the Wendigo spiker to aim at the wiphid's face. Half choking this wasn't easy, but if it meant she had to take a hit just to kill this beast, she would gladly do so, not wasting any time to squeeze the trigger. "Die...you beast."

 

[Velok Brokentusk]

Velok roared again, more in frustration than pain, as one of the dogs yanked the kukhri out of his armor. He let go of the Force choke, which wasn't functioning as well as he'd like. Somewhere in there his cleaver clanged uselessly off the Drael's armour.

Hraelga Nacht brought up the big gun, and though he caught her intent, he couldn't do more than lean aside. A superheated metal spike took off a chunk of tusk and ripped a sizzling hole in his cheek. He roared again, this time a matter of the Force. Charred fur and cheekflesh ripped under the strain. The bellow ripped up the earth, a semicircular overpressure shockwave. The goal was to stun her, take her dogs out of the fight, and ragdoll them off the hill.