Skirmish The Calling | Frigid Dawn | NIO vs GA

[Oceiros Sunstrider]

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Location: Yinchor
Objective: Wayward Light
Allies: Galactic Alliance | Rebel Alliance | Bernard of Arca
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Sons of Mandalore | Ect...

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Why does one fight? Some find themselves fighting for power, to acquire more territory, to accumulate more wealth, or to see their foes brought to their knees. Others fight because its all they’ve ever known, they crave violence, they crave the primal savagery of war. Then there are those who fought for a cause, who fought for others, who held hope for a brighter day. That’s what the Rebel Alliance was, they were the ones who’d fight where others wouldn’t.

Sitting atop his speeder was Oceiros Sunstrider, once a proud member of the New Jedi Order, now an outlaw in every right. He’d seen the horrors of the Imperials long before the Galactic Alliance had caught a whiff of them. He personally witnessed the lengths that their soldiers would go to in the name of vengeance, in the name of violence.

Memories of Bastion sprung unbidden to Epicanthix's mind. The weight of the deaths he’d felt on that day. The children of the academy, the numerous Sith that were slain, the deaths of the innocents who simply fought for their homes. It marred the Jedi’s soul, it left a stain that could never be washed away.

Grip tightening on the handlebars of the bike, Oceiros cast a glance over his shoulder to the other’s who’d gathered in the hull. They were the ones who had seen the truth. Who could no longer allow themselves to be bound by the bureaucracy that had overtaken the Galactic Alliance. They cared not about bringing worlds under a banner but simply ensuring they could live a life that was free and guided by their own hands.

“We’ll be over the drop in t minus five!” Came the grizzled voice of a pilot over the shuttles com system. Within its interior, tightly packed in was an array of speeder bikes. Sitting atop eat a Rebel fighter. Tension hung in the air between them all, a silence filling the chamber as their time to enter the fray soon approached.

Standing and turning to face the gathered soldiers, Oceiros offered them a faint smile. “On this day we show who we are. No longer shall we hide, fearful of drawing the ire of the Imperials. No longer shall we stand aside and allow them to abuse and decimate populations. Let us show them what true Rebels are made of.”

As the Epicanthix finished his speech the dim interior of the dropship flashed green and the doors began to creak open, flakes of rust breaking free from the refurbished vessel. Awaiting the rebels was a veil of darkness, wind whistled by and into the interior so loud that one could barely hear the roar of speeder engines starting.

From below the Imperials and Alliance troopers would hear the Rebels before they saw them. Lights from the encampment rising to the sky to witness as speeder bikes pierced the veil of night. Their engines releasing a ferocious roar that carried across the encampment, as from their front beams of crimson stitched through the sky tearing into the Imperials upon the wall and within.

 

[Andro Stratus]

D A W N

The Prodigal Son

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Allies: Konrad Bolter | Akash Guul | Amon Vizsla | Tavius Muuaji | Meko Sorrin | Noel Strasza | Enedina Tal | Djorn Bline | Andan Voleg | Chasianna | Lucien Dooku
Enemies: Maynard Treicolt | Aerarii Tithe | Adhira Chandra

In combat, Major Andro Stratus always knew that when he was outnumbered or faced against insurmountable odds, the Prodigal Sons had always been there for Andro to fall back on for support. He knew each pilot of each TIE and could vouch for the training, expertise, and spirit of every single one of them.

But here, on Yinchorr, that was not the case. He and five other pilots -- Lieutenants Raynar Cirrus and Abi Synnefo of Tempest Squadron, and Lieutenants Cirra Cumulus and Alo Anemos of Cloudburst Squadron -- had been sent by high command to Yinchorr to assist in the training of pilots allied with the Yinchorri warrior caste. The reptilian fighters had a strange aversion to technology, but when there was a target in their sights, the subsequent blood frenzy that the warriors were driven too resulted in some of the best flying Andro had seen outside of Jabiim.

Klaxons balred as Andro and his pilots made his way through thetunnels of the compound, away fro the main complex to the set of hangars that housed the TIEs that he, his pilots from the 19th, and the Yinchorri pilots he had been training all flew. As soon as word of the assault came through, all pilots had been scrambled into the air; better their TIEs be in the sky before the compound be breached. Andro descended the ladder into his TXS TIE/INx Interceptor, flicking on multiple systems as the interior of the cockpit powered on. He waited for his helmet's HUD to finish integrating before engaging the TIE's lift, and with a deafening, iconic roar, Andro's interceptor blasted out of the hangar.

The light of Yinchorr's moon reflected dully against the black of Andro's TIE. "Fighters, ready strafing armaments," Andro ordered shortly through the comlink in his helmet. "Bombers prepare heavy ordnance, armor and artillery are priority targets." There didn't seem to be much in the way of enemy fighter support, which for now was good; it meant that Andro and his TIEs could wreak havoc on the ground without fear of repercussion. Andro pulled back on the stick as his TIE spiraled upwards before diving in a tight loop like some sort of bird of prey. Switching from aerial to ground sensors, Andro lined up a group of hostiles in his sites, amplifying power diversion to his ship's canons with one hand as his other pressed firmly on the trigger, sending bright-green bursts of laser fire into the crowd.

The laser bolts ate away at the enemy forces as his fighter shrieked past, it's distinctive ion engines roaring overhead. Andro pulled up once more before looping into yet another dive, swooping into a strafing run and this time sending his lasers at a transport; one that was armored to defend itself from infantry blasters, perhaps, but not the laser cannons of a TIE fighter. Under his helmet, Andro smiled.

It was almost too easy.
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[Tulan Kor]

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demon company
new imperial order
operation: iron dawn
location:

Tags: N/A

Eight.

Eight members of Demon Company- formerly Dorn, including their Commander- Tulan Kor, had been sent by the New Imperial Order to accomplish a very specific mission, that Dorn Company had been very good at in the past, and had trained and been trained to do for years now- training small militias into formidable guerilla groups. It usually relied on a set of equipment, goals, and tasks to be completed.

Tulan had designed a very robust and effective system- 1000, 2000, and 3000-level tasks. For instance, 1000 level tasks were simple things like patrol formations, reading a map, setting security. 2000-level tasks were weapons manipulation and management, advanced marksmanship, room clearing, patrolling- and the last, the most he'd have time for, was the 3000- assaults, rapid patrols, ambushes, explosives, and concealment and incorporating UAS assets.

It made Tulan grit his teeth when other NIO compatriots came not in deniable clothing, equipment- but rather Stormtrooper gear. Sure, you didn't wear IDs and tags, but weapons had serial numbers, helmets, and the Alliance they were now facing had a very robust, in-depth intelligence gathering apparatus that Tulan wanted to stay off the radar. To that end, Demon Company had been equipped with their usual black fatigues, and red-lensed night vision, but their slugthrowers had been sourced black-market, off-site, with cash, and so did most of their equipment and ammunition.

Demon Company's red-eyed goons creeped out to meet their new adversary's head on. They said nothing- and through a complex series of hand signals known only to Demon company, Tulan instructed his men to give orders to their mildly-trained fools they'd been instructing. They'd been lying in wait, waiting for the enemy to get closer and closer- inside their kill zone.

Jedi were coming.

Tulan felt that old guilt creeping up on him.

But they'd made their choice. He'd seen the folly of their ways. Of their attempt at peace. Peace only came through violence, and the capability to commit it. That was the way of the galaxy, that was the way it needed to be. Peace was the preferred option, sure, but it wasn't going to come out of hugs and kisses. The Sith did not need to be helped, cured, or lured back to the land of milk and honey. They needed to be shot in the face, dumped in a ditch, and anytime anyone brought up the notion of waving a red lightsaber they needed the same treatment.

Tulan would spare the misled, idiotic Jedi if he could.

But they made their choice to kill him.

So he'd return the favor in kind.

He was singing a death song today- but not his. And with that, Demon Company began to open fire on the Alliance-led troops assaulting their position, suppressed slugthrowers tearing into the warrior caste that so foolishly thought they were going unopposed in this war.

 

[Jaida Tess]

Operation Iron Dawn
Allies: NIO, Yinchorri Warrior Caste
Enemies: GA, Yinchorri Intelligensia

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Jaida stepped into the sonic shower and sighed heavily. It had been a long day. She had been in a simulator playing opposition for the Yichorri's learning how to fly TIE fighters. It was a slow process getting them up to Imperial standards but allowed for "Jaybird" to get to know the 'Alliance starfighter's better. Even though as a flight cadet they were drilled on the in's and out's of X-wings, A-wings, Y & B-wings, having more time behind their sticks gave the young pilot just that much more knowledge of how to go up against them in real-time.

The champagne blonde rolled her shoulders trying to get the tension out of them, thinking the whole time how a hot water shower would be so much nicer and do the trick better. The Dosuun-born couldn't remember the last 'real' shower she'd taken. It's funny how small things really do mean a lot when you have to go without for a long time. Military life left out all the niceties that civilians often took for granted.

Suddenly, a chill ran down Jaida's spin. In her experience, that usually indicated something bad was about to happen. She shut off the sonic shower and exited the stall just as klaxons began to go off. Being disciplined, the young pilot had hung up her clothing so that she could slip back into it quickly. Fully dressed in her flight suit in under a minute, 2nd Lieutenant Tess sprinted from the barracks to the hangar. In fact, Jaida nearly got taken out by one of their own a mammoth of a Storm Commando, one Tavius Muuaji she believed as the two nearly collided responding to the klaxons in route to their respective battle stations.

Arriving at the hangar, the first wave of TIE fighters had already launched, noting 2LT Chasianna's Hunter-class Superiority Fighter flying by overhead as Jaida climbed up the ladder to the cockpit of her TXS TIE/OT Outlander. She slipped onto the pilot couch and began the start-up sequence while she closed and secured the hatch and attached her crash webbing. When the flight board was all green, Jaybird feathered the controls and gunned the ion engines shooting out of the hangar and vectoring upward into the skies above to join others to intercept those attacking.

<"Copy that,"> Tess answered Major Andro Stratus , then readied the Outlander's heavy laser cannons for the first strafing run and followed the Interceptor's of the famed 19th in.

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[Taysonyl Callenid]

V A N G U A R D
Vanguard Squadron | Qell Auraeli Frea Sheplin Alex Locke | Open
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Her grip tightened. There was chatter on the comms, probably the CO giving her one last run through of their orders. She couldn't hear it. Her heart was beating so loud it drowned everything else out. Every thump widened the sneer on her face; her brow furrowed in frustration.

Why was she so nervous? She shouldn't have been this nervous. The forces arrayed here weren't any more dangerous than the Yevethans. She'd flown the sims, she'd flown for real. This was nothing new. In fact, this would probably be easier -- the majority of targets were on the ground. She didn't need to worry about agile superiority fighters on her tail. Point and shoot. Easy.

No, maybe it was just the horizon. Reminded her of the day she'd crashed. Only, if she crashed today, she'd probably die.

On that lovely thought she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The stick was heavy enough that the shaking of her hands didn't alter her course. Not yet, anyways.

Chatter on the comms. She squinted. In the distance, blaster fire. Deep breath. Targets marked, weapons hot -- countdown. Full speed. Three. Two.

One.

Payload away. The rockets sped off to their targets as the X-wings passed...

 

[Bernard]

Unintentionally Here, He Swears
'Part of' the Galactic Alliance Peacekeeping Forces
Engaging the bad guys by crashing into that one (sniper) tower
Actors: Noel Strasza
Double Trouble with the Idol and the Bowie

Each person who sat atop the speederbikes in the U-wing's hangar was in some way in violation of the basic civil law of the Alliance. Whether it was an unregistered arms violation, incitement of violence, or disturbance of public peace, each person here had a Marshal file with their name on it.

Bernard glanced to Oceiros, who stood at the hangar's front already in the process of delivering another speech.

The ex-Jedi had been smart to appeal to Bernard's morality. Sob stories didn't usually sway him while he was on duty, and Oceiros' most certainly wouldn't have gotten them off the hook, but their shared history as Jedi bought the Rebel and his group time. They'd gotten all the way to Yinchorr, in neutral space, where Bernard's hands were tied without a Marshal Director's InterSec arrest warrant. On top of that, he was about to help the lawbreakers in an unsanctioned peace-keeping operation. He'd told Oceiros they had to operate on his terms, but it was clear his concerns would go mostly ignored. His supervisor would never let him hear the end of this when she found out.

A sigh escaped him. There was no time left to back out now. He went down the list of last-minute checks for the speeder bike, satisfied that everything seemed nominal, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself for the battle ahead.

The lights went green, and the bay doors opened. Wind and noise crashed into the cramped room. Around Bernard, the speeders accelerated and shot out of the hangar into the night below. The engines' whines soon joined the tumult of battle coming from below.

Bernard pulled up to the ramp's edge after them but waited there for a moment to get a better sense of the chaos.

Blasterfire and searchlights illuminated the battlefield enough to get a good sense of the action. The Yinchorri fought each other already. Oceiros had told the truth about them. If his word held thus far, then the imperial agitators would be among the defenders. From his vantage point, it was hard to make out any specific combatant on the ground, however. There was only one way to find out.

With an engine's roar announcing his arrival, Bernard sped out into the night below.

After a few seconds of free fall, the speeder's repulsorlift kicked in thirty feet above the ground, rocking its frame and rider. Its gyroscopic stabilizers smoothed the descent to the surface as best they could, but the turbo thruster's casing dipped too low and hit the ground, where it skidded along the dirt.

Bernard wrested the speeder back up, giving it time to stabilize before he revved its engines to full power.

Explosions rocked the earth behind him, and barrages of blaster fire seemed to come from every direction, whizzing about in flashes of red and blue.

With the enhanced senses of a Jedi, he wove the speeder through the plasma torrents unharmed until he got close enough to the stronghold's walls. At the speeds he was going a direct collision would prove quite fatal, but luckily speeders held a few tricks for just such an occasion.

Bernard flipped a switch on the speeder and pulled the steering handle as close towards him as the metal allowed.

The repulsorlift whined a shrill howl and the speeder's nose rose away from the ground. Bernard held the new course and soared up into the air. Eventually, the repulsorlift reached its limit, but by then, the walls were already far beneath his feet.

He engaged its decelerator, and let one hand fall free of the steering bar, to his sabre.

Though he had been precise with the timing of his 'jump', he had been less careful about its direction. When he risked a glance down it became apparent that the speeder had cleanly overshot the wall and, owing to his vector of approach, put him on a direct course towards one of the towers.

A nervous laugh escaped him while he tried, desperately, to route more power to the repulsorlift, but gravity had already taken hold, and the speeder continued to trace the downward path of a parabola towards the tower. The machinery may have failed, but Bernard still had a final safety measure at his disposal. Drawing on the Force, he fought against the speeder's massive frame and the certainty of gravity itself in an effort to bring it down on top of the tower rather than against its side.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

OPERATION: WAYWARD LIGHT

YINCHORR // IMPERIAL ROYAL GUARD ACADEMY //
FRIENDLIES: Maynard Treicolt // Zaavik Perl // Bayaz // GA
UNFRIENDLIES: NIO // Amon Vizsla // WARRIOR CASTE // OPEN
SO APPALLED​

Yinchorr. A desert world born and maintained out of conflicts and conquests.

This was the entire planet: hostile, primeval and harsh.

Rival city-states weren’t uncommon in the Alliance’s expansion. They’d been called in countless times for caste versus caste insurgencies, weighing the odds on their involvement and ultimately maneuvering forward for the more altruistic alignment. That was the only known part in this ordeal, and as they arrived in the twilight above the desert. It was a mistake to think this was a known engagement, a rinse and repeat of previous conflicts. As soon as they broke through the wall, and the klaxons sounded alerted the inhabitants of their arrival, they were met with an equal measure of ferocity. Shouts and commands of information were exchanged back and forth, Battlestations immediately readied. The response was trained, practiced, and meticulously ferocious. Even if some were still just getting dressed, it was like a well-oiled machine that didn’t feel like the hopeful, raw, zealous rebellion of one caste to another.

The paranoia of the enlightened had been accurate.

Above the Wolfpack and alongside Twilight company, Yinchorri allies found their wings and flew to attack layers and layers below the atmosphere's starfighters. They were like mechanized death angels in the sea of stars as their backdrop, soaring above the Alliance’s marines to meet their brethren. They might have been Intelligentsia, but they were equipped with the same passion as the Alliance soldiers on the battlefield. This was a crucial raid; if they failed, their way of life would be threatened. Consequently, nobody had to tell them how to fire their weapons to hit true. The necessity of self-preservation emblazoned Their sight.

Red beams of destructive energy struck the earth, scorching the dirt and sending a spray skyward. The next shot that streaked past was far more fortunate, and an indigenous above her was plucked in the chest, knocked from their trajectory while soaring above and spiralling helplessly to the ground with a deteriorating wail.

Enwrapped in a torrent of fire on all sides from the Wolfpack, Loske’s blade became little more than a golden arc of light that shielded and protected herself and those in her immediate proximity. Shots meant to kill sent reverberations up and down her arm with each connection she managed to deflect.

Her eyes snapped up; the watchtowers were aglow with salvos belching from their perches. If it wasn’t the snipers, it was well-armoured artillery. The coordination in the skies was beyond her control, but there was still a necessity to keep the information tight and shared with a deployment like this. Ducking, weaving, deflecting and producing Force-born shields here and there while on the move, she kept the momentum and a feed of the artillery they met within the fortress. Those managing and facilitating the aerial control would see the marks of heavy weaponry the starfighters could easily snuff out with a precise swoop.

Aside from the sources of brilliant, peppering bursts, a lone silhouette postured in their immediate line of sight positioned to prevent further advancement. The subtleties of armour and paintings were lost on her in the chaos, and this was just another enemy.

Until the fellow bellowed and gave purpose to the delay.

"TREICOLT!"
"STAND DOWN!"
"OR I WILL PUT YOU DOWN!"

Hearing that name so closely knit to a threat, and an opportunity he’d never take, created something like a bullet of tension in her chest. The challenger, formerly unknown, suddenly sounded all too familiar.

Was this a Mandalorian training ground? No, that didn't make sense. That only answered for one warrior, not the organized uniformity of the other personnel.

"That uh, a friend of yours, Maynard?"​

The challenge put a pause in the trio of the Jedi at the fore of the battalion, but not in the hardened soldiers under the General's command. Rightly so, if this was a diversion to steal their attention and protect those behind him, Amon's triumph would not be long-lasting. There was success to be had this night, and it would not be his.

<This has to be a joke.> Loske muttered tensely, skidding to a stop alongside Zaavik and Maynard. The dirt from Mandalore’s surface still lived in the soles of her boots, and that voice that had been an ally was now threatening? Rage washed over her in an angry red wave, and she clenched her sabre tighter in protest –– grunting at the absurdity of it.

 

[Noel Strasza]

"If you want to make enemies... try to change something."
T O O _ C L O S E _ T O _ T H E _ S U N
MAJOR "DEADER" STRASZA

THE "BLACK JACKETS"
STATUS : 12/12
OPERATION : IRON DAWN

Bolt after bolt in silent war chant, the Black Jackets dropped the invaders to their nest, moving with lethal, ruthless efficiency. They were unbothered by foes, undetected, and safeguarded by their vantage point on high. "Reload in sequence, do not stop laying fire down on that line," Strasza uttered to them all, communicating without the motion of her lips and by the implants bedded into her throat. It was a simple enough order that was heeded well. Down the line, as magazines found themselves empty, new ones were locked into place with the gentle metallic clicks of decisiveness.​

One after another, they bled their weapons dry and refueled them, giving barrels just enough time to cool before smoking them once more.​

"Deader, it's Karl." He paused to let the name sink in. "I'm about to go on a walk here, but it'll be nice if you point me at a couple of nice scenes to look at, take a few photos for the family. Get back to me when you're free."

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The familiar voice brushed along the edges of her awareness, rattling through her skull via cochlear implant casting vibrating frequency. She snickered to herself, seeming to laugh at a joke only she heard. Karmann was here? Of course he was. That peg-legged idiot couldn't keep himself out of engagement if she was paying him for it. Another squeeze of her trigger pounded the stock of her rifle into her armored shoulder, yet her body reacted without recoil, and yet another target dropped out of the sky as dead weight after raining crimson on their comrades. "It is a rather lovely night, ain't it?" Her voice echoed back over that tunneled channel, airing directly to her TF-66 squadmate and him alone. "These guys gotta have a transport closeby. That, or their command does. They're too coordinated not to. Standby, I'll see what I can find."​

Keeping herself low to the roof, Strasza swung her hissing rifle around to rest flat against her back and crept about, night vision fully adapted by this point, to search for precisely that. She swept the areas to the West. Nothing. The rolling craggy faces to the East. Nothing. North was covered well enough by their fighters to be of no concern. And when she looked to the Southwest...​

Speeders rushed over the terrain; a dead man's charge right for the wall. ​

"Southwest, speeders. Approachin' hot." Deader sent the information back to her comrade, uploading the data as quickly as she spoke it to his HUD directly from her own via infolink.​

She swung her rifle around, lining up a shot on the riders, but they were approaching far too quickly. Instead, she murmured for her team to standby for repositioning, and held them from engagement until the riders had crested the wall and were inside. It was much easier to shoot someone in the back of the head than to fire at speeding targets. And that was a good order, a wise, experienced call from a well-put-together squad commander with countless engagements under her belt. ​

Nothing surprised her.​

Until one of the speeders lurched into the air to fly as freely as fighters did.​

Repulsor lifts weren't capable of sustained motion like that, not that she had seen at least. Augmented eyes narrowed behind the red-tinted glass of her visor. "Wait a minute...."​

"Force user...." Someone in her squadron hissed with vitriol dripping so freely from her voice it was a marvel she wasn't drowning in it. ​

Strasza acknowledged this and, in the matter of a half-second, made a snap-decision with a barked order to follow: "MOVE!"​

The Black Jackets scattered, throwing themselves and activating jetpacks and repulsor boots to zip away from the roof of the tower and land on the wall perpendicular to the one the invaders were scaling. ​

And down crashed the speeder, slamming into the tower and hissing against the durasteel in a shower of grating, deafening sparks. Strasza hit the edge of the wall, thankful her frame was almost exclusively false in that moment, and rolled across the walkway. She groaned, recovering far quicker than the others, and rushed to aid those closest. "Up up up, let's go, let's go! Get to cover, I'm gonna go deal with that rider."​

Short-duration cloaking devices swallowed her squadron whole, and they rushed away, moving to find new vantage with the trust their leader would return to them shortly. Strasza turned her helmeted head upward, glaring daggers at the edge of the roof she had just unceremoniously plummeted from. Either this guy was really good and their position had just been that poor, or he was reckless. His crash didn't quite look so controlled... though Deader knew better than to underestimate a foe. She had learned that one when she was young.​

Trusted rifle still slung across her back, the cyborg engaged her jetpack and launched herself upward, sailing through the black with the jets to her flank illuminating her indistinct silhouette, and drew her side-arm, firing slug shots rapidly at the one who had landed there.​

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// ALLIES : NIO, AIF, KRIG, WARRIOR CASTE | Meko Sorrin Tavius Muuaji Amon Vizsla Konrad Bolter Daros Karmann
// ENEMIES : GA, INTELLIGENTSIA | Bernard of Arca [ E N G A G I N G ]

 

[Meshla Detta]

Operation Iron Dawn
Allies: NIO, SoM, Warrior Caste
Accompanying Amon Vizsla
Enemy: GA, RA, Intelligentsia

FOR_THE_GLORY

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Yinchorr's sun had fallen below the rocky desert horizon, but it seemed a day's work wasn't done quite yet...

Klaxon's wailed within the unmarked New Imperial Order's compound where they along with the Sons of Mandalore were training the Yinchorr Warrior Caste - to defend the planet from any local resistance due to their presence while the NIO increased its influence or was it will into the neutral territory between the rising Imperial faction and the Galactic Alliance.

Meshla's mind had momentarily gone back to what Amon had said to her on Bastion at the event celebrating the victory over the Sith Empire.

"Times are a-changing, Meshla."

There indeed seemed to be a change in the wind. Was this the start of it though? Or had they already engaged in it during their recent mission to Manda'yaim? I mean seriously, how frakked up was that?! It really made Meshla question what the future was for the Mando'ade as a whole... and hers as well.

Those musings were pushed aside as Amon's voice came over her helmet's comm unit. He was barking orders to the men under his command, which snapped the blue-armored Mando back to the present and inspired Meshla to move, not that a couple of blaster bolts whizzing by didn't.

The Detta pulled her twin Rippers and returned fire as she ran forward after the Vizsla into the fray striking with deadly accuracy. It wasn't hard to follow him as his Darksaber lit the night like a beacon of strength especially when the man jumped up onto a platform and called out the approaching enemy... by name.

"TREICOLT!"

"STAND DOWN!"

"OR I WILL PUT YOU DOWN!"

Meshla smirked from behind her icy cold silver T-visor as it seemed like they'd all come to a momentary standstill after Amon had thrown down his ultimatum to their once ally. Now to see how the Galactic Alliance foes it seemed this time responded...

The Jetii would either standdown or pay the price here and now. Mandalorians never kid in such matters.

_____

Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt | Zaavik Perl ...​

 

[Gala Geert]

OPERATION: WAYWARD LIGHT

ALLIES: Kir Dantos // MIDNIGHT SQUADRON // GA
ENEMIES: NIO // WARRIOR CASTE //
ENGAGING: Andan Voleg (with NPC) // Tavius Muuaji
EQUIPMENT: COMBAT ARMOUR // FEVERWASP (2) // SOHEI // TIDEFALL
SIXTEEN_SALTINES
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Both triggers squeezed. At this range, the impact was spectacular; the skull of the large, reptilian humanoid looking to prove the profit of their training, turned into something more akin to biological fireworks. Their entire cranial vault sheared away in a dense cloud of scarlet, gristle and bone.

Her heart was beating too hard. She could feel it in her neck and wrists. Exhilaration supercharged her movements and a single pinhead of sweat bubbled on her brow from a mix of exertion and the residual heat that clung to the desert even in the nighttime. Warm planets were insufferable, and even with the cooling units of her suit’s system, it was bothersome.

While it was clear the Alliance’s arrival was a surprise, riposte after riposte was exchanged between explosions and plasmic bolts on both sides. The advantage of nightfall was shortlived but got them into the facility. Her comms were alive with chatter. The most notable string of communication was the neglect of the watchtowers. While they hadn’t prevented the onslaught of the Starbird’s battalions, they still had the best vantage point over the chaos in the compound.

Gala ducked to the right, cutting sharply from the trajectory of a laser bolt and stealing a glance to one of the said observational towers. Through the teal scan lines, the scrawl readout highlit a silhouette of warm colours. One life form. A scout, she surmised. Someone calling accuracy and marks for the shots incinerating their allies.

<Someone take those towers out!>

As if on command, a blossom of flames erupted from one of the steeples. Not the one she’d been watching, but a good move nevertheless. Courtesy of a speeder, her HUD marked. Any further outcome of the outpost was lost in the bedlam.

Beside her, a fellow Twilight commando dropped to a knee alongside the sergeant to secure their position. The barrel of their rifle still smoking from their last shot, thickening the air with the smell of ozone that penetrated the filtration systems of her suit. Following Gala’s point, the marksman squinted down their scope and fired off in the succession the rifle supported, short bursts of erratic, potent golden energy that would erupt in violent explosions whether or not they met their mark on the individual (Andan Voleg).

<I’ll cover you. Keep it up.> She informed, positioning herself actively to brace the riposte their position was met with. <Less warning shots, eh? Go for the head.>

<I’m kriffing trying, working with a small target.>

<Make it bigger.> The Mirialan hissed, activating the shield on her arm and squaring to absorb a shot meant for the back of the shooter’s head. Taking the cue, the commando grunted and shifted, activating their jetpack to become airborne toward the individual calling the shots.

Within the compound, near the body of the base, the soldiers that met them were sluggish. It was clear their vigour was not at full capacity and The Alliance’s nightfall attack had given them an advantage within the compound. Their armour looked akin to storm commandos, though it was stripped bare of any distinctions. ( Tavius Muuaji )

In a hasty, well-practiced movement, Gala re-strapped her blasters for her preferred weapons. Gripping the vibro swords tightly, the advantageously agile alien darted forward, weaving and twisting through the wall of meat. The low thrum of the blades was lost in the shouts of pain for the sensitive areas they connected with around kidneys and armpits. She baited strikes from those who were equipped with similar melee weapons, finding delight in the brief clash of blades. For the ones that followed her bait, she danced out of reach long enough for the realization to kick in just before she closed back into proximity where she could cripple or kill. A flurry of motion, Gala pivoted on her front foot, spinning out in a half-circle that saw one of her blades carve through a Trooper's hamstring, the other coming around quickly more at the height of their shoulders.

Anything left unfinished could be picked up by her squadmates.

 

[Tavius Muuaji]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
257th Storm Commando Battlegroup
OPERATION : IRON DAWN
Allies: NIO | Yinchorri Warrior Caste
Engaging Hostiles: Intelligentsia | Gala Geert
Equipment: VT-Grav Armor - VT-Bulwark - Sohei - Mandalorian Energy Shield (left forearm)

​

Typically set on patrol while he had been stationed at this base, he had never realized how many soldiers there had truly been. Primarily Yinchorri of the Warrior Caste, in the onset of darkness, they more or less looked the same. Large bodily masses moving rapidly past and towards him and his fellows. Dodging around those that didn't seem to be hostile, he spun about to see a fairly large lizard crumple someone familiar to him. But the cause for survival didn't give him time to identify who they were before crimson bolts flew from his rifle to smoke the alien, advancing onto their corpse as he kept firing until his boot found the side of their corpse, ensuring they were lifeless.

The base is compromised.

Not my job to scuttle intel.

Is it getting done though?

All he could do was trust that it was getting done by someone else.

Continuing to fire his blaster, as soon as Tavius caught sight of the figure that was Gala Geert cutting through swathes of his allies, he squeezed the trigger, intent on mowing her down like previous hostiles, but it seemed his power cell had gone dry and he tossed the blaster rifle, and reached out with his right hand. The grav glove could pull and push people in close distances, literally made for close quarters combat. He was a force user, but no one that he knew alive knew that.

And he wanted to keep it that way. If there was a technology he could use to simulate it? He'd use it.

Pulling at the hostile, seeking to tug her off balance before his left hand dropped down to grasp the hilt of his vibrosword and charge right at the dual wielding warrior.

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // IN SEARCH OF GREATNESS
// OBJECTIVE // DUEL A JEDI // FIND ONE WORTH THE LEGENDS
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt // Amon Vizsla Meshla Detta // Maynard Treicolt Zaavik Perl
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets
// THEME // START IT UP // CAMPFIRE

Yinchorr was a planet of warriors -- in truth, the presence of the New Imperial Order was less to indoctrinate and more to direct. The young Sun Guard's role was as a trainer and handler, like many of the mercenaries and third parties gathered at the base. He admired these reptilians; they knew the truth as he did. Might makes right. If they were strong enough to take it, it was theirs.

It was the Imperials that were misguided here. Theo had fought alongside them, watched them train, kept a close eye on their progress up the Braxant Run. The great Khonsu Amon had deemed them worthy enough to fight alongside and that was good enough for him. Still, there was that small missing piece -- this place was one where they hoped to train insurgents rather than true warriors. They resorted to subterfuge rather than seeking out their enemy head-on. They had hesitated, and today it would cost them. The Alliance had come to destroy them.

But as always; in crisis, opportunity. The base was crumbling and the work of the New Imperials falling apart, but it was in battle that the weak were cast out and the true warriors revealed. He had not thought that war would come to this place so soon.

He was thankful it had.

The gold-armored warrior rushed through the compound in search of a worthy opponent. Troopers clashed here and there, but they were not yet worth his time. No, there was something greater there -- a beacon. Two, perhaps, raised at the front. A blade of midnight black with a corona of light. A blue saber, merciless in its slaughter of the enemy. There were warriors here.

He approached, following behind the cadre of Mandalorians. He recognized the blade as a darksaber; the weapon of their leader. Could this be the Manda'lor himself? Unlikely given how fractured their clans had been for so long. Still, a warrior who held such a saber was doubtless of some merit. He recognized the man's armor as one of the trainers. Perhaps a New Imperial crony, but the Mandalorians were proud. Theo paused for a moment, waiting for the fight to begin, only to hear the Mandalorian's words.

He was hesitating.

The young Sun Guard stepped forward, drawing his Solar Glaive. It didn't matter . "This is why your people are broken, Mandalorian." He shook his head. "You meet your foe on the battlefield and pause when you see his face. No, no -- when you recognize another warrior, you must fight."

His gaze turned to the others. One Jedi had been claimed, in a way, but there were two others for him to choose from. One, a boy. His posture indicated experience and readiness, but it was his eyes that gave away the truth. He was confused. Unfocused. Simply going through the motions, no matter how deadly those motions were. His mind was in a dozen different places. That could not be for any good fighter. The woman, though -- the way her hand tightened around her saber's hilt betrayed her anger. She was as present as she needed to be.

The plasmatic edge of his weapon snapped to life; the gold weapon shone and glittered. His gaze focused on the woman. "I have never fought a Jedi. Prove you are worth the legends."

He charged like a bull, his armor pushing him faster and faster to close distance between him and his chosen opponent. There were enough enemies to go around; the other Mandalorians and Jedi would surely choose their own adversaries. Any interruptions would be unacceptable. It'd been far too long since he'd had a good fight. Far too long since he'd had a chance to fight a Force user. The hum of his stabilizer mask, the effects of the Thyrsian battle oil reaching his system...

It was bliss.

When he was close enough, the glaive he held with both hands at his right side swung up in a wide arc towards the Jedi's left side. It was not the quickest of strikes; if he'd hoped to kill immediately it would've been through a thrust or slash with the other side of the weapon. Instead the back end came, with all his strength behind it. He wanted to see her power, see if she was willing to meet him head on. If she was too weak, well -- the strike would send her or her weapon flying, or simply bisect her.

With every fiber of his being he wished for her to meet the attack.

 

[Andan Voleg]

Location: Observation Tower, Yinchorr
Objective: Iron Dawn - Call in Artillery Strikes
Allies: NIO Unmarked Imperial Units | AIF | Warrior Caste | Open to Interaction
Enemies: GA | Intelligentsia Caste | Gala Geert

"Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be an ugly brawl."​

Voleg reloaded his rifle and looked out at the battlefield. It was getting chaotic, close quarter combat becoming more and more prevalent, coordinating artillery and airstrikes was about to get a whole lot harder. He rested his rifle on the edge of the barricade keeping him covered and held the radio handset in his other hand he began to call in another strike, he still had a job to do after all. After spotting a few dozen Yinchorri moving to reinforce the battle Andan began speaking into his headset. "HARP Shelldrake 1-1 this is Observer Bravo 2-3. Got more targets for you. Fire direction 0780, distance 630 meters, over." he said and the voice of the comms officer came in right after that "Copy 2-3, 0780, 430. Over" Andan ducked as a blaster bolt came in. "Target description is 4 platoons worth of Yinchorri reinforcements. Fire for effect then repeat fire mission, Over." he said and he sat there watching as a rain of artillery shells landed on the group. Right before he could commend Shelldrake 1-1 the rifle fire began to intensify.

One of the rounds grazed his face. He felt the heat melting some of his flesh, the intense pain that came with it and a large part of his left cheek left scarred and burned. He fell on the floor, dropping his rifle and holding the burn. "AAAAAH KARK!" he screamed to himself. He slowly moved himself to the observation towers first aid kit and as soon as he was about to open it an explosion rocked the small tower. He looked up at the towers roof which began to crumble on the right side, red hot metal bending and coming apart but not completely collapsing. He turned to the first aid kit and took at a bacta patch, placing it on the burn mark. That'd at least reconstruct some of the tissue.

The Forward Observer turned his head to the Twilight Commando under Gala Geert 's command who was now airborne. Under his goggles and what remained of his bandana an expression of pure anger. He kept crouching, moving over to his rifle he picked it up and began opening fire at the airborne commando. He had switched to full-auto and was spraying bullets towards the commando, aiming to take her out or force her back on the ground. As he was firing a reptilian hand appeared and grabbed a part of the railing to his left and a Yinchori bearing the mark of the Intelligentsia faction was attempting to get into the tower. Andan turned and pulled the trigger but his rifle was out of rounds. He looked back to the Yinchorri and they locked eyes and the lizards pace hastened. "Oh no you don't" he said while taking out his Entrenching Tool and after turning it side ways brought it down on the Yinchorri's head, the sharp edge of the shovel piercing the lizards skull. He ripped the bloodied shovel back out, letting its lifeless body fall to the ground before falling back onto the floor. He began reloading his rifle in anticipation for the next attack on his tower.

 

[Enedina Tal]

S A E Q A B R I G A D E

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER

KANDARAN IMPERIAL REVOLUTIONARY GUARD
​

Those of the company of Fedayeen not present back at training camp and still out amidst Yinchorrs winding sand dunes were among the first of the KRIG to see the ships come. Perhaps it was blind luck or the convenient protection of the Wadi's that shielded the fedayeen from the precision-guided missiles of the X wings. Half the company had vacated to the Compound for rest and political thought indoctrination lessons, leaving the rest still out in the desert when the ships had descended from the heavens to wreak ruin on the resistance.


The highest-ranking officer in charge of the men in training outside, Captain Azam Yunis signalled silently for a radioman hiding in the Wadi with the rest of the platoon over, removing his goggles and wiping a hand over a furrowed brow as he scanned the skyline. He knew that distinctive sound, any man who had been subject to its swift bombing attacks knew. Those that survived that is. The howl of an x wing was ironically a blessing and curse, demoralising the enemy and yet also giving them time to run for cover. He didn't know the situation back at the compound, no doubt the Alliance troops and their allies would be deploying ground assets. There was no chance in hell his units would make it back, not without heavy losses. Captain Yunis had a mere three platoons at his disposal.


A few men could cause much damage when well-coordinated and well-entrenched, the wadis offered that protection. Armed with the new harbingers, the Fedayeen under his command were far more dangerous than simply a few cut off insurgents from the base. And besides, they didn't know they were there, better to let the armoured formations draw themselves into an ambush. His men were few and ill-equipped, but they could buy their comrades time.

"Major Khaldun over? what is happening, enemy aerial assets are close, and we think armoured assets will come in our direction soon, we will stage an ambush and buy you and the rest of our comrades time, over."

Captain Yunis handed the transistor back to his radioman and picked up his binoculars, another squadron of x wings flew ahead in the distance. Two of his men hurried to the edge of the Wadi, setting up a bipod for the harbinger launcher. Unfortunately for them they hadn't received too much direction and instructions on the proper deployment of harbinger launchers, the Fedayeen had only received them recently. Much of the tech made their homemade missiles look like children's rockets in comparison.
​

"Comrade have you locked on?"

"Yes sir."

"May the imperial spirit guide your missile comrade."


"Fire." ​

Allies: NIO, ALF, WARRIOR CASTE, Khaldun Fakhir Konrad Bolter

Enemies: GA and Intelligenista reactionaries Taysonyl Callenid​

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

F R E E D O M _ F I G H T E R
KANDARAN REVOLUTIONARY IMPERIAL GUARD
SAEQA BRIGADE
OPERATION : IRON DAWN

He was looking forward to bring some life into the night after a day's of hard labor. They were rewarded with time to enjoy themselves whether it was gambling or some other recreational activity. For Khladun? Have his hands and fingers beautifully drum on his personal dabruka, an instrument he became adept at playing yet yearned to master it. He was the minority of soldiers here present to know how to play an instrument as many of his brethren from the KRIG had some musical talent whether it was their vocals or an actual instrument. Something that he knew more than just war as the duty of a soldier was his main occupation. The music of their culture shared to the Atrisians and other Imperials present.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't get the chance to take his dabruka as the alarms sounded around the base with the patterns indicating that they were under attack.

"Fuck."

Khaldun was not fully in his armor, only the chest and back plates adorning his body with his arms and legs only protected by the bodyglove he was still wearing. There was no time to attach the other plates, the time to fight was now. The only thing he staggered to find was a blaster for his hands. Grenades and other munitions? Get a damn private to bring that to them.

"Captain," his voice reached out to Yunis via comms after assessing the situation with a quick glance at his environment and receiving quick notes of what is going on, "the reptilians are flying over the walls with their aerial devices, we -" and was cut off short as the familiar sound of X-wings hummed in the air. Rockets were launched, aimed for whatever targets they had intended. "Hostile infantry are entering the premise of the compound, we will paint the desert with their blood. Fight well, comrade."

ALLIES | NIO | AIF | KRIG | WARRIOR CASTE | Enedina Tal
ENEMIES | GA | INGELLIGENTSIA | OPEN

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

W O L F P A C K
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104TH MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
OPERATION : WAYWARD LIGHT
R U S T Y _ C A G E

Once ally, seemingly made foe. While Mandalorians typically fit this role like a glove, to be military advisor or supervisor to arming and preparing any armed levy for war. With the shoulder's he'd seemingly been rubbing with New Imperial armed forces, in retrospect Vizsla's presence shouldn't have been too much of a surprise. Mandalorians within Imperial ranks was a sight growing more and more common with the dawning of the New Imperial Order, an alliance was re-brokered in a common hatred of the Sith.

Not that he couldn't understand.

That's what made the fight all the more dreadful. It didn't feel right in his stomach. It felt like both betrayal and futility. To be staring down the sights at men and women who might have very well have marched up to Fortress Carnifex at his side not months prior. But orders were orders. Even if the Imperials rewarded him a medal of valor, with the Alliance awarding him nothing but new assignments. He would do his job to the end, see through on a vow made to a Chancellor who'd now resigned.

The more he thought deeper about it, the more he found his virtues put at odds with his aim, his ambition. Somewhere at the end of this winding, broken path there'd be that fate he'd always yearned for. A peaceful, quiet life with Loske Treicolt and whatever fruits came from their union. What he needed to do to get there? At this point? He had no idea. For now, he'd make war.

"That uh, a friend of yours, Maynard?"

<"At the moment? Certainly doesn't seem it."> Maynard replied, a sharp draw of his blaster pistol throwing a superheated projectile of tibanna into the center mass of a Yinchorri warrior before he charged forward once more. Making way behind cover.

<This has to be a joke.>

<"I've got it."> He said, voice dipped in shades of determination. Like the solution seemed to be bathed in finality. Of upmost confident that he'd be the better at the end of the day from a battle of wills between Treicolt and Vizsla. In all truth, Amon was a killer and he doubt he held as much mercy for him, the Jetii as he did toward the Mando'ade in kind.

<"Loske, keep the push going...I'll be back...only after I pacify Vizsla."> He'd said it and thus, he now had to do it. He holstered the DL-44 'Outlaw' once more before willing the hilt of the cobalt saber to his hand once more. An ever present union between a Jedi and his elegant weapon.

Peering up and over the cover he caught a glimpse of the Son of Mandalore once more. Standing up unto his two feet once more he willed himself from the earth before activating a strong pulse of his jetpack to surge himself unto the very same platform Amon stood atop.

He lashed out with his saber, more than expecting Amon's black blade to meet his in return.

ALLIES | GA | INTELLIGENTSIA | Loske Treicolt | Zaavik Perl
ENEMIES | NIO | WARRIOR CASTE | TERRORISTS | Amon Vizsla | Meshla Detta

 

[Aerarii Tithe]

LOCATION: Yinchorr
OBJECTIVE: Operation Wayward Light
ALLIES: GA - Open
ENEMIES: Lucien Dooku | NIO
KIT: Lesser Ring of the Protected Mind | Taxman's Embrace | Visions of Gold | REC-LA/02 Combat Armour
POST: II

Aerarii was tracing a series of credit payments along the Hydian Way when someone landed on the troop carrier.

He instinctively looked up at the roof of the transport, then remembering where he was, slid down his chair and under the limited cover afforded by the holoterminal. Of course, if the sound striking the roof of the vehicle was an artillery shell fired by the Yinchorri warrior caste, he would already be dead by now. Shaking his head, Tithe climbed back to his feet and turned toward the pilot’s cabin.

“What was…”

A familiar snap-hiss rung out through the transport. Tithe felt his stomach drop and a cold sweat break out. The Sith had found him. He always knew defecting carried the very real risk that someone would be sent out to hunt him down and kill him. He’d banked that slipping out in the aftermath of Bastion, where numerous other high ranking official had also fled the Empire, would allow him to disappear into the crowd long enough to garner the full protection of the Galactic Alliance. But somehow they’d tracked him down to Yinchorr, and were intent on executing him as a traitor.

“Sith!” Aerarii yelled to the pilot. “Get us out of here!”

He wasn’t about to die, certainly not out here on some insignificant rock helping a rabble of lizards try to wrestle control of their primitive world. He needed to escape and wasn’t certain he could trust the GA pilots who were driving the transport. They had orders, courage, and morals - things not conducive to a clean escape. Tithe cast his eyes around the small cabin, looking for his personal effects. Best to be prepared if be needed to bail out.

“Not Sith - Jedi,” the pilots called back from his cabin. “And an angry one at that - he’s demanding we dismount.”

“Under NO circumstances do you open that door!” Tithe screamed backed. “The data on this terminal is necessitous to the war effort.” A fabrication - the intel was available from any terminal in the battlegroup with the correct permissions, and so far, the information hadn’t revealed anything actionable or incriminating. But it worked in Tithe’s favour if the pilots thought they had something worth fighting for. Or even dying for.

Aerarii was thrown from his feet as the transport lurked violently to the side on it’s repulsolifts. A rhymic thud rang out as the small defensive blasters opened fire on the Jedi and his retinue. Tithe grabbed onto the back of a chair and hung on for dear life, hoping the pilot was half as good at flying as he was at blindly following orders.

 

[Cartr Arkhis]

191 "Black Squadron",203 Squadron & 199 Squadron
Objective: Iron Dawn
Cartr waited with his Squadrons behind one of moons and waited till scaners show any Hostile Units, after only half a hour of waiting they got small convoy:
<All Units Regulate Power in your cannons to one used by Pirates> He said trought Comunicator and started engnes,
<I will atack first, Alpha you lead 191, Delta 203 and 199 are under your comand to intercept transport ship>
<As you wish Comander>
<Any questions?>
<Yeah, what will we do to transport.. I mean intercept payload or destroy it?>
<Intercept, now into formations I will go first>
He Accelerated to max speed and after 5 seconds flew trought escort of transport destroying with Missles, 2 from 9 E-Wings guarding it, the rest of escort focused on him and haven't noticed the 191 flying towards them, after 15 seconds escort was destroyed. Meanwhile 203 and 199 atacked Transport ship, when bombs destroyed ship Bridge the ship was immobilized and Cartr helped alongsite rest of Fighters "free" the payload.
<get the Payload and we will go to base to refuel>
<Third convoy this day, almost 30 fighters destroyed>
<Lets hope on planet, Operations go as well>
<Shut up and just follow orders we still got many things to do>
<Don't be so angry Beta Everyone here is Veteran just like ya>
<Beta is right Pi, we should not celebrate untill we finish the job>
<You too Epsilon... we still are best Starfighter pilots in this conflict!>
<Don't be so sure of yourself, all of you, now shut up and we are entering atmosphere, so our comunication system may reveal our position, Comunication Silence from now on>
15 minutes after fighters entered atmosphere the 191,199 and 203 arrived to base and receivied orders to wait in base utill the evening when they will go for next hunt.

Allies: NIO, ALF, WARRIOR CASTE
Enemies: GA and Intelligenista reactionaries​

 

[Gala Geert]

OPERATION: WAYWARD LIGHT

ALLIES: Kir Dantos // MIDNIGHT SQUADRON // GA
ENEMIES: NIO // WARRIOR CASTE //
ENGAGING: Andan Voleg // Tavius Muuaji
EQUIPMENT: COMBAT ARMOUR // FEVERWASP (2) // SOHEI // TIDEFALL

​

​

Twilight’s sharpshooter, Anila Minne, was good at her job. And a portrait of attraction –– too much so to be ready to throw away her life for something as abstract as freedom. But she wouldn’t be dissuaded from her work for things as temporary as youthful charm; liberty was far more everlasting.

The dream would have to live on without her.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t anticipated the riposte from the outpost, but she might not have counted for the erraticness of the response. When she shoved her shoulder to the right, to encourage the jetpack’s response and support, she evaded the first volley. The blue shimmer of her arm-equipped shield picked up four other peppers, but that only protected her torso. The sting of bullets bit at her thighs and knees. Given that was the only Force, other than the jets strapped to her back, the pressure was enough to override her initial trajectory and put her back on course to the left. Into the secondary salvo from the shooter inside.

In response, she fired off two more blind rounds. But that pretty face beneath the helmet was awash with surprise as further blasts struck her shoulders and, fatefully, her neck. The sweet spot where only weave protected between her helmet and breastplate.

Gala was forced to watch while the formerly airborne commando twisted helplessly to the ground, their body soaked in blood that permeated through their armour and spilled down her chest. The amount of ichor looked dreadful, and the medics –– she double-checked –– were still another wave away. She was about to divert from her course, to apply pressure or at least confirm a pulse, when an invisible agent tightened its grip around her legs. Her weight became her enemy.

<No!> She barked in protest, some sort of humanity tugging at her heart with a gravity she hadn’t expected. She lost partners all the time. Death wasn’t uncommon. But it had never been under an order she delivered. And she’d never been forced to watch. The sting permeated through her lungs and throat, beating harshly behind her eyes and contesting with the frustration that knotted in her chest at the lack of control she had over her journey over the duracrete. Writhing and scraping, she protested. The blades of her swords seeking to penetrate the ground to give her something to anchor against. Futility was apparent, and she rotated to face belly-up, preparing for the inevitability of an encounter. Anila Minne would have to lay in waste.

Her destination came quickly. Heels planted in the earth for some sort of strength while the inertial grip lessened. An armoured shape, lithe, sleek and imposing, charged at her. It was obvious her position was at a disadvantage, and before she could right herself, the blade of her opponent slashed down. Her own caught it in an X above her torso, grimacing at the displacement of strength; momentum had been on his side.

The contest of strength would have to be short-lived if she wanted to prevail. Her wrists burned, and elbows quivered. Abdomen clenched for support, she grunted and shifted, shoving one of her shoulders down to activate the thrusters of her jetpack. Simultaneously, her free leg kicked up to the lower stomach of her assailant for a kickstart. The propulsion at this angle activated a scoring blaze of heat down her back, marking some of the sleek pearlescence of her armour with black marks but propelling her backward at a speed that would hopefully force the attacker off balance. With another gesture, the pack ended, and she staggered back to stand before rushing forward with an initial hop again, dual blades coming in from opposing sides around bicep-height.

 

[Cartr Arkhis]

Hit and Run
Objective: Iron Dawn
Cartr arrived to Comand Room as fast as he could and received simple orders: Find, Destroy and Run away. This was one of most important missions in this Shithole for Fighter Corps, no wonder they chosed him and his Squadrons. He stare at his subordinates saying what they will do and what will this have effect on Hostile Forces:
<Enemy have here 103 X-Wings, 28 E-Wings and 12 A-Wings. Our informator is sure that when we will arrive all of them will be grounded. we have to destroy them and outpost, we will use well known to you "Hit and Run" Tactic but in much bigger scale. I expect you to not die, these are just grounded fighters, dying from Anti-Fighter fire would be Dishonor. Now to Machiness and Start Operation!>
After 15 minutes they all were flying trought night, 30 black painted Fighters were low but sometimes to look for Target Cartr would get Highter with his wingman to look for it, when they Detected it they ordered to get High. Hidden amongs Clouds Cartr seen base, the night was dark but he menaged to count all mentioned Vechicles, grounded and refueled.
<Great, lets just shoot at main Fuel Tank and half of base will go up in smoke>
<No we will strike as planed, get low we will make them experience fear!>
When Units designated to destroy outpost get low to fire on base he Prepared himself for his part: Dive, fast as lightining he started t ofall upon his enemies and enabeld Ion Engines to make their terryfying sound, firing during dive made it look from below Terryfying. Falling from sky like a Eagle on a prey, TIE Slasher stoped 50 meters over the earth and Run away to hide behind near mountain, and then he heard explosions behind him, he looked on monitor of Back camera and Seen what he expected to see, his "friends" were doing their job, after around 15 minutes nothing was left from outpost, but to make sure Cartr ordered to drop Incendiary bombs.
<Now lets head back to base we done what needed to be done, now our firends on ground will have much better time>
<I do not belive someone could survive this>
<Stop fooling around we did great job, and as comander said: "what needed to be done">
<Right...>