Skirmish The Calling | Frigid Dawn | NIO vs GA

[Alex Locke]

//: V A N G U A R D //:
//: Get in the X-Wing Alex //:
//: Qell Auraeli //: Taysonyl Callenid //: Frea Sheplin //:
//: Enedina Tal //:

​

It was dark, and light only peered through the vents near the top of the door. The cold metal rested against her back as she hiccuped with each breath taken. This was different. The world of simulations, being the only thing Alexandria Locke faced, was over. Blue eyes blinked away the blurred vision of tears as she looked at the device in her hand. On it, was mission orders, flight orders - the REAL thing.​

​

The door to the locker opened and stood the CO of Vanguard Squadron. "There you are." He reached in and grabbed the Corellian and pulled her, setting her onto her feet. She was young, but she had signed up - volunteered to be a starfighter, there was no reason to be crying. Yet, he understood for the most part. Alex leaned against the row of lockers. She looked at the man and sniffed, trying to hide the tears she had been trying to shed while in the locker. ​

​

It was quiet between them, and he sighed. "It's going to be fine, kid." Alex nodded; she never really spoke unless on comms with the CO. Alarms rang, summoning the pilots to the hangers to take off. Alex didn't move, and the CO decided to wait for a moment. "Locke, get in the X-Wing." Alex didn't move, and the man pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you don't do it, we'll be down a fighter -" His speech cut off as the girl pushed herself from her locker door. A hand moved across her face as she exhaled, already knowing what he was going to say, who he was going to use to get her to move. ​

​

Dry hiccups escaped her as she waited for the crew to finish her checks. They looked at her, wondering why she was crying. Fighter pilots didn't cry. Most were known to be daredevils seeking the next thrill, yet here Alex was choking back the tears as she waited. "You're going to be fine, Locke." One of the mechanics spoke as he patted her on the shoulder and handed her the helmet. "Just get in the X-Wing." ​

​

Alex found herself sitting in the X-Wing; oddly enough, the machine's sanctuary felt comfortable and at home. Whispers of the electromagnetic field that surrounded the fighter echoed in the back of her mind. She knew what this was, remembering fondly the explanation from the only other person she knew that heard the Force like this. It was comforting, and Alex felt oddly at home. ​

​

Corellians had rocket fuel for blood, and Alex was no different than the millions of Corellians that came before her. The fighter moved like an extension of herself as she flew into the formation. Comms chattered away, and the fear she had previously was gone, feeling comfortable within the durasteel flying weapon. ​

​

They drew closer to their targets, and the fighters shifted into attack formation. Alex held steady until it was time, thumb on the designated red button on the yolk as she grazed over it carefully. The timing was everything here, and then the order was given. "Vanguard 10 delivering." Her voice chimed over the comms, sounding just as confident as the others. The button pressed, and streaks of smoke shot off from the fighter as it twisted, passing over. Missiles fired away, heading towards their intended target. ​

​

Something in the back of her mind sent alerts, something wasn't right, and Alex did her best not to panic. There was more to what was happening than met the eye. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to find her composure again. Alarms rang violently, and Alex became very aware of the attack from the ground. The fighter twisted and sped up to avoid the rocket that laced through the air. "We have anti-air." She voiced through the comms, hoping that everyone was able to avoid the attack. There was no visual, and that part scared Alex. Her hands gripped the throttle and the yolk of the fighter tightly as she felt her heart racing.​

​

This was all real.​

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

SONS OF MANDALORE
S H R I E K - H A W K
OPERATION: IRON DAWN
I M M I G R A N T _ S O N G

​

The shockgaunt's repulsors hit true and Amon made a mistake. A fraction of a second his thoughts diverted to the situation with Meshla and her wellbeing and the grappling hook yanked him sharply. The momentary distraction had softened his grip on the darksaber and the hilt flew off.

The Mandalorian replied to Treicolt's command with his own trick. He revved his repulsorpack to an overdrive and pulled the hook along with the Jedi Knight down towards him. Should he succeed, his cybernetic beskar hand would catch the blue blade and his other hand would fire a salvo of blaster fire from its vambrace at his chest.

ALLIES | NIO | AIF | KRIG | WARRIOR CASTE
ENEMIES | GA | INTELLIGENTSIA | Maynard Treicolt [ENGAGING]

 

[Konrad Bolter]

S E V E N _ L I V E S
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ATRISIA TENKOKU SENSEN
OPERATION : IRON DAWN
G H O S T _ S T A N C E

That ringing of explosions and ashen rain of gore and shrapnel could only serve to remind the Atrisian of a battered past. The hardline regimented discipline of the sword and steel, the call of the Iron Sun which wrenched him from his homeland. The shattered streets of Harnaidan and the blood-soaked beaches of Dubrillion. It was after then that the New Imperial Order 'disavowed' him before seeding him back into his homeland to assist in the training and resurgance of the Atrisian Imperial insurgent group, the AIF.

The dreams of Empire could so only be so valiantly fought for by the instruments of death manned by men in black and silver or the argent duraplast of stormtroopers. Active measures head to be taken.

He peered back up to see the fruits of his explosive devestation on the rebels reaped in the form of the risen and bloodied Sunstrider. His eyes beared down on the Atrisian. The Epicanthix drew his cobalt blade once more with the characteristic snap and hiss of the elegant weapon's ignition. He was ready to make war, do single combat.

"Hiyaaa..." He said under his breath, his inflection painted in the shades of bitter annoyance. With such a decisive strike compunded in the payload it was, he expected certain death of the Epicanthix and from the fires, he rose. Endured.

This valiant spirit needed to be snuffed out himself. But in the Jedi's face was a challenge and it was in his honor not to refuse, not to simply lob another charge in his direction.

Instead, the helmet was wrenched from his head, fixing it to his hip before he produced a headband from his platecarrier. The rising sun of Atrisia with the Imperial crest eclipsing its nexus. He wrapped it around his head in a ritualistic, practiced maneuver of his fingers before his vibro katana was unsheathed once more, the blade snapping free in a metallic hiss once more.

He stood fully once more, crossing over the storage crates with a leap before rolling toward the Jedi, rising with his sword at the ready to clash with the sapphire blade.

He took his readied stance. Low, with both hands tightly wrapped around the hilt of the blade before he reeled up a cut down from his right shoulder and following through to the left of his waist, following it up with an upwards slash of the Atrisian blade.

"I give everything to my country, to my people. What are you willing to sacrifice, Jedi?" The Atrisian taunted.

ALLIES | NIO | AIF | KRIG | Enedina Tal | Djorn Bline
ENEMIES | GA | RA | ENLIGHTENED | Oceiros Sunstrider

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

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

Just when Maynard had thought he'd had the advantage over Amon, the Crusader's fury flourished to life in the wake of his fault in reflex. The Beskar hand grasped at the cobalt blade, the vision of the void imagining a hand cauterized and rendered to a nub at the grasp only for the crushgaunt to take the plasmatic blade into full grasp before wrenching the blade from his hands, the motion drawing a flash of suprise across his gaze before the Mandalorian vambrace reared up to unload a pulse of blaster bolts into his chest.

He shut his eyes and leaned into the impact, letting the armor do the bulk of the work absorbing it before he leaned down low and moved to wrap his arms around the abdomen of the Mandalorian, throwing his weight into the tackle to bring him to the ground beneath before moving to lock his legs around his hips and establish control over the warrior as he tried to shimy forward to plant his knees as much under the shoulders of Amon as he could to limit his ability to throw the Jedi off of him.

Two, weighted crushgaunt hands then moved to clap the sides of Amon's helmet in the hopes of at least rattling the Mandalorian within the iron skin.

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

 

[Daros Karmann]

TACTICAL_PRECISION_DISARRAY
SPECIAL AGENT DAROS KARMANN
OPERATION : IRON DAWN

Daros exhaled painfully, patting his gut. The shot still stung, but good armor saved his life. He'd walked directly into an ambush and paid the price for it. He felt around, praying silently.

When he felt no holes in his armor, he returned to the business at hand. Screaming neon bolts shattered his corner of the wall, gnawing on his cover bit by bit. Whoever they were, and he had his educated guesses, they were good. But he was better- and angrier than them. Daros unhooked a grenade from his belt and counted down from five.

At three, the agent threw the stun grenade backhanded into the flashing corridor. There was a noise of exclamation, but the sudden flash and blast killed the shooting, giving Daros just the right opportunity to dash to the other side of the hallway. Once behind a fresh wall, he turned around and took a knee, hefting his scatter gun and pulled the trigger.

Three rapid fire blasts caught the first trooper out of cover with the full force of plasma-kinetic shot shells that jerked his right shoulder back, and then punched through his gut, and finally blew his knee apart, splattering gore behind them. Daros shifted his aim and sent another shot, nailing another trooper by their upper torso. She fell backwards, screaming in pain. He smiled, the inner sadist within him allowing the soldier to remain writhing in pain on the floor.

Their reprisals were quick, sending Daros back into the safety of cover. "Two down!" he yelled over the corner, laughing. The enemy added their own cursing to the hell fire they were throwing at him, but he was born of thicker skin. Pushing back against the wall, he considered his options.

Staying here was not an option- it was a death sentence thinly disguised as a bottleneck. He could attempt to flank along a longer route, putting himself at risk to a sniper, and leave his own flank uncovered.

Or he could surrender.

When a large chunk of the wall blew apart in a shower of ionized dust and slagged plasma, he remembered that he had already crossed that option out of the list. He could try fooling them. "You shoot like New Imperial dogs!"

"Didn't they tell you to be afraid of the Sith?"

"The Sith didn't tell me I'd be babysitting!"

He paused, looking to his right. His stage routine was slowly becoming stale, and the longer he stayed here debating on the best course of action, the likelier he was to be flanked. "Yeah, that's right, keep wasting your ammo, you might get a medal for it!" He threw one last bad quip at the enemy before sprinting to the end of his hallway and taking another hard right down.

He nearly reached the end of the hallway when a door to his right flung open. Troopers in identifiable Alliance colours poured out, but from their reactions, neither he nor they were expecting a sudden face up encounter.

Daros quickly moved to raise his weapon, but a rubber boot kicked it away from his hands and a blaster shoved in his face. He threw himself at the Alliance trooper, bowling over another trooper in a cabinet room, lined with poorly constructed file cabinets that only allowed for one person to pass through at a time. His tackle brought the whole length of the cabinets on them, adding to the chaos and sending sheaves of mundane paperwork flying everywhere. The agent recovered but ate a boot to the helmet that sent him staggering back into the doorframe. A gloved hand hung onto the frame, stopping him from leaving the room, while another hand whipped out his Feverwasp.

There wasn't enough time for fancy shooting as he emptied the magazine wildly. Particle beams smashed through cabinets, ionizing the air and cutting a burning path through the paperwork. The last four rounds bit into a downed opponent, but he couldn't finish him off before the other Alliance trooper threw a clipboard at Daros. It bounced off his head, but made him flinch, giving the healthy soldier time to close the distance and sock Daros square in the jaw. Though his helmet absorbed most of the impact, his jaw still stung, and the agent staggered back to the rhythmic beatdown of a very angry trooper.

He took a few hasty steps back into the corridor and ducked under a quick jab, retaliating with a heavy blow to the trooper's armoured gut- Daros felt his knuckles scream in agony, and he himself grunted in pain.

Their fist fight drew the attention of the previous squad of troopers that had pinned him down, and their footfalls reached Daros' ears before anything else. As he reeled back from a knee to his battered and cracked helmet, his eyes caught the sight of an Alliance trooper at the far end of the hallway quickly raising their weapon to shoot.

Too engrossed with their bout of fisticuffs, Daros' opponent lunged for another punch to the chest, but yelped in surprise when the unmarked foe immediately parried the punch and threw him sideways into the hallway. There was little more time to realize what was happening, as lances of light rippled into his back, snuffing the light of life from his eyes.

Daros looked down at the corpse before him, scorch marks still smoking from an unfortunate bout of friendly fire. He lunged back into the cabinet room and landed on top of the wounded trooper he had shot. Still wounded from the fist fight, and very aware of the Alliance troopers still outside of the room rushing to put him down like a dog, Daros clambered back to his feet. Weak hands clung onto his armor, the last vestiges of dying resistance trying to hold him down for the Alliance.

He didn't think twice, pulling out his emergency knife and stabbed the trooper in the chest. There wasn't enough time to be satisfied with the clean execution, and Daros dashed away and barged into an adjacent room, this time an empty space save for the stacked chairs and tables. He didn't stop to rest and quickly left as he entered, sprinting away from the enemy, the hunter now the hunted. He rounded into a corner once he put some distance away from them and paused to catch his haggard breathing.

He lost all three of his weapons- no scattergun, no blaster pistol and no more knife. He had his demolition kit, a bandolier of grenades, now a flashbang spent, and his own fists. His helmet too, nearly cracked open by that brute. Cheap, non-descript armor just wasn't the same as Imperial plating. He couldn't even pull up the map on his helmet, the electronics busted. Still, he had already committed the floor plan to memory, and knew he was simply two more corridors to the security room.

But he didn't know how many of the troopers were left, only that he had killed 4 at immense cost. "I could really use a fucking break." he muttered, sniffing.


// ALLIES : NIO, AIF, KRIG, WARRIOR CASTE | Meko Sorrin Tavius Muuaji Amon Vizsla Konrad Bolter Noel Strasza ​

// ENEMIES : Loske Treicolt , GA, INTELLIGENTSIA, 104th Battalion Troopers | OPEN​

 

[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: III

Tithe gripped onto the back of his chair as the troop carrier careened across the battlefield. At first, it appeared as though they would escape - the Jedi and his aerial assistants launched themselves high into the air as the armoured repulsorcraft manoeuvred wildly. But as Tithe's experience with Force users had caught him, they were decidedly difficult to get away from.

The pursuing enemy opened fire on the troop carrier, quickly disabling its defensive weapons. In a feat of impressive flying, the Jedi landed on the moving Jedi and remained in place despite the best efforts of the pilots. Brandishing a unique bladesword, he carved through the armour as if it was Sarkanian jelly. The vehicle spluttered to a halt moments later.

Tithe buried his face in his hands and shook his head. If the Jedi wasn’t annoyed before, they would be now.

An ultimatum to exit the vehicle was given.

The Trade Federation executive surveyed the inside of the troop carrier. Only one soldier from the squad assigned to the vehicle was still on their feet, the rest were nursing injuries from their failed escape and the weapons fire which disabled their defensive blasters. The nearby consoles were either dead or sparking, and based on the cursing coming from the cockpit, the troop carrier wouldn’t be moving any time soon.

There were two options, neither of them attractive - go out to meet the Jedi, or wait to him to cut his way inside, the latter of which would only serve to antagonise him further.

“Well, it’s been, what, twos month since I’ve begged for my life,” Aerarii muttered, largely to himself. “A record, I’d imagine.”

Checking that his armour was still in place and his electrohammer was at his side, Tithe moved to the hatch and slapped the release. The door groaned a few time as the mechanisms worked backward and forth, trying to pry the damaged hatch open. They door finally settled just short of the halfway mark, forcing Tithe to clamber out sideways, almost falling on his face as he exited the trooper carrier.

Regaining his footing, he surveyed the armed forces around him, all the while keeping his arms away from his sides so as not to invite unnecessary shooting. They were definitely not Yinchorri, though their armour lacked much in the way of identifying features. Mercenaries? Private military contractors? Neither was preferable, as were known for barbaric behaviour and little concern for the fair treatment of prisoners. They were both, however, motivated by something Tithe understood very well.

“I - we - surrender,” he announced. “We, ah, we mean you no harm. We’re observers, non-combatant support, accoutrement to the Galactic Alliance presence.” As no weapons were lowered, he imagined they weren’t quite buying it.

“We have, err, credits, if that can help matters along.”

 

[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 : 10/12
OPERATION : IRON DAWN

The faint hum of charging power cells resonated around the cyborg's frame with her landing on the rooftop, and judging by the failure to disperse the momentum of her landing, she was the source. Kinetic force surged through her legs and hips, collected through the flexing of liquid polymers in absorption, and sorted into corresponding power cells. Someone was going to get a nasty kick to the face later. Or maybe she would find another wall to put a boot through. Either way.​

She approached the speeder, still poised defensively should the rider have had a reaction for her. But alas, he was nowhere in sight. Where had he gone? Irritated, the major used the newfound strength gained from her unceremonious landing to slam the heel of her boot into the crashed vehicle, and with the power cells in her artificial joints boltered by the stored energy, she sent it skidding off the tower and to the ground far below- likely right on top of a few sorry souls' heads.​

"We've got two down, ma'am. They've got countersnipers up." A voice vibrating its way through her thoughts and across her skull drew her focus back, earning a sigh as she stepped off the roof and landed on the wall with a heavy thud and the whir of automation. ​

"Divide into your pairs and flock towards the crags outside the fort. Scatter yourselves amongst the rocks. Stay low. Get me locations on those snipers." The cyborg issued her orders calmly as she returned to where she had left her men, despite her steely togetherness, the sight of two clad in the same armor as she was laying limp across the durasteel floor was enough to kick a rock in her stomach over. Loss was part of it. The machine had to eat.​

At least, by this point, she had gone numb to it.​

"Move, now." A lift of a hand sent the Black Jackets scattering once more, rushing to leap out over the walls and into the rocks surrounding the fort for new vantage points in the darkness obscuring the approach. She ducked as a massive reptilian fist arced towards her helmeted head, barely alerted to the incoming body by the involuntary shock to her nerves. A temporary override of control. Strasza cocked back a fist of her own and swung, mock-muscle and joint torquing and ramping unnaturally to bolster her cybernetic strength. Her foe toppled backward, falling from the wall with a satisfying crunch beneath her plated knuckles. Was that the jaw fracturing? Or the teeth breaking against one another? It was a hard thing to judge with a helmet on. Haymakers were brutal.​

Another message was sent through the encrypted communication link as she leaped down from the wall and bounded for the security building. Explosions. Not good. "Karl, where the fuck are you?" ​

Her shoulder crashing through the door sent her inside and the sound of scattergun fire ringing across her senses drew her like a moth to a flame. Hopefully, she could find her squadmate before he got himself killed. Or blew himself up. Either or. Her legs surged with power, urging the system alerts to flash across her HUD, but she was sprinting now. Full force. A whirlwind rushing down the halls towards the sound of conflict. And around the corner, she surged-​

"Incoming." The cyborg's voice droned out from her helmet as she SLAMMED into the line of troopers, barreling through them as a nigh-unstoppable force. They had no time to react or prepare for it. She wasn't there. And then she was. Boots skid against the scorched floor as the woman shifted her momentum to slow herself, dropping to a knee and pulling her sidearm to bear. Inhuman calculations carried her aim, preventing those she had struck from getting back to their feet.​

The woman sighed, dropping her dead cartridge to swap it for another as she looked around, mapping the flow of the conflict. Who were these guys after so intently? Blasterfire painting her back caught her off-guard and she whipped around, rolling around the corner in the process. A peek. She returned fire quickly, dropping the first to emerge from the decimated room. "This place is labyrin-" The sound of boots rushing through the room connected by the wall she propped against caught her ear. SmartVision engaged, granting her sight.​

"Sonofabitch-" The woman groaned, dropping another trooper as she ducked into the opposite room from the familiar outline, rushing adjacent to Daros Karmann until emerging ultimately at the same point. She looked fine, save for the heat-licked plate hissing between her shoulder blades, the blood splattered across her helmet, and the dirt that had showered her, of course. That impassive visor glared at him. "You know, if you're going to get your ass beat, I'd at least like an invitation to watch." Strasza spun her sidearm in her hand, offering it to him. "Lead. I've got your back. You took care of everything else already?" ​

// ALLIES : NIO, AIF, KRIG, WARRIOR CASTE | Daros Karmann
// ENEMIES : GA, INTELLIGENTSIA | OPEN

 

[Gala Geert]

OPERATION: WAYWARD LIGHT

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

​

In the air, Finon’s view of the clusterheck below was much clearer. The compound was aglow with activity. Combustions erupting from small to large manifested throughout the training grounds. Both sides were putting up an incredible struggle, meeting measure for measure with successes and losses. And still, The Alliance pressed on. Like water, spilling in closer to securing the inside of the grounds. That’s how he liked to imagine it, anyway. The reality was much dustier and obscured from his purview.

He reached up, swapping from the macro to micro view of his oculars, a silhouette darted along the fallen rungs of the former watchtower. Traditionally, he would have ignored it. One shadow in the dark wasn’t worth the trouble, but he had a strong inclination that this shadow had been responsible for Anila Minne. Grimacing with profound distaste, the targeting simulator across his vision triangulated. Thick, red lines tracing and outlining in an attempt to get a lock.

Finally it turned green and Finon kicked into gear –– floating with a juxtaposition serenity compared to the salvo’s that belched from his rifle, targeting the one-the-run Andan Voleg who was elusive beneath the clouds of protective dust and smoke. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and throat, thunderous pounding and there was a coppery taste on the end of his tongue –– he’d realize later that he’d bitten it. For now, the cool grip of retribution had a firm hold on him and calcified his focus.

--

The wider skirmish put perspective on the current temporary engagement. It was nigh a blip on the radar, only two shadows moving against one another, drowned out by the rest of the light fight.

Bursts of light exploded around the insurgent’s feet, lighting up his movements against the chaotic darkness and inconsistent lighting in the yard. The action spurred small repulsors to evidence from the soles of his feet, and backward momentum continued to pull him away from her –– hence the lunge.

Her forward push was met with a counter. The shimmering, gossamer blue crescent knocked the length of her Sohei to the side. It sizzled in protest, the charge repulsing from the connection against another electrical source. Her downward momentum was stopped short, jarring up her arm and through her shoulder blades. The other blade, a secondary choice, was coming around in a dual-punch movement which was interrupted by the unforeseen knuckles cracking against her nose. The swipe coming in from the left side was incomplete, faltered. Her head snapped back and Gala staggered, the bud of pain at the bridge of her nose erupting and taking over anything that connected. She wanted to clutch it, feel it, make sure it –– doesn’t matter! If it was broken it didn’t matter.

“Karking shavit!”

She could feel it bleeding, warm, smarmy liquid pouring from her nostrils down her lips. The mix of dark burgundy against her emerald skin was frightening, especially when it was highlighted by surrounding flames. The back of her hand ran against her nostrils, smearing the ichor and confirming the hit she’d absorbed.

From there, her reaction was instinctual versus calculated. A single, strong leg kicked out toward his gut once more while she re-stabilized herself, blinking in pain and turning away to gasp a blood-soaked breath in.

 

[Zaavik Perl]

S H A D O W
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
OPERATION: WAYWARD LIGHT
L O S T _ I N _ T H E _ S T A T I C

​

Zaavik maintained the contact pressure of his initial strike, saber weighing down the dinu'ul. His focus now split, his concealment wavered slightly. Still lacking significant opacity, but now the colors of his form visible. Blue eyes peered directly into the opposing visor through the split veil of the violet hairs that had fallen over his face. "You're quick," he remarked wryly as he pressed even harder against the shield with his saber. A vaguely derisive smile crawled across the Padawan's face. "We can do this the e-"

That smile faded into a grimace as he was with a cryo-ban nozzle direction in his face. All at once, his pressing ceased as he pulled his weapon back. His left hand released the hilt to produce a barrier against the incoming frost. Even though the manifestation of the force that kept the frigid mist coalesced away from him, Zaavik could still feel the biting temperature.

A pang of danger assaulted his instincts, causing a deflecting flourish of his saber on near-involuntary reaction. The unimaginable numbing cold in his hand was suddenly forgotten when the molten lead of the slugs which had passed through his blade spattered against his armor and burned into his skin. A quick expletive was hissed in his native Zeltron before a sudden force hit the front of his body like a runaway land speeder.

Zaavik's frame tumbled violently through the air. Several corkscrew rotations annihilated his immediate sense of direction. A meaty whap reverberated in the immediate vicinity as he collided against one of the many warrior caste combatants. Tumbling against the ground, Zaavik bounced and rolled against the ground for several meters before coming to an abrupt stop against a wall.

Placing his palm flat against the ground, Zaavik pushed himself to a knee. He spat, sending the thick vermillion spattering onto the ground beneath. The blood from his nose had already found its way over his lips and around the underside of the chin. With the back of his forearm, he cleared his skin's much paler red of the contrast. "Hard way it is."

Getting to his feet, the Padawan began to sprint forward. He slipped through ally and hostile alike with sudden weaves and skips. Calling upon the force, he propelled himself forward into a dive, tumbling gracefully under a wall of blaster fire. At the apex of the maneuver, he called once again upon the force as his feet kicked off the ground.

Zaavik soared through the air like a torpedo. He twisted around to face Meshla feet-first, bringing his arms up above his head as he soared. Both knees pulled inwards, curling forward like a ball. He'd remain like this for the brief moments of his flight before he came within striking distance of the Mandalorian. At that point, with a labored shout and another manifestation of the force, he'd suddenly extend both legs forward for a kick.

ALLIES | GA | INTELLIGENTSIA | Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt
ENEMIES | NIO | WARRIOR CASTE | TERRORISTS | Meshla Detta | Théodoro | Amon Vizsla

 

[Djorn Bline]

C A L L I N G _ T O _ T H E _ N I G H T
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GHOST VIPERS
OPERATION : IRON DAWN
T R I G G E R _ M A N

Hear the ringing echos in the splitting horizon
​

The scenery did nothing but reinforce his beliefs and ideals, furthering him into that eternal war he vowed carry on until he breathed victory or time defeated him. The chaos, the destruction all brought by the Jedi and their fellow dissidents just so they can preserve and continue their damnations under the masquerade of hypocrisy and deceit. It proved to him that these pro-Republic elements only wished to see broken, compromised people in order for them to reign over and convert them into willing sheep for their abattoir. The Alliance and their affiliates feared one thing: the promises of Imperialism that would bring a collapse to the delusions of corrupt democracy and false peaces.

He knew the dangers of these ideals, it took something dear to him. Something that made it personal for him.

The Jedi and their allies continued on, and the third party of the Rebels no longer had a great altitude above the ground as their soldiers entered the premises of the compound. Snake moved to intercept these insurgents, wanting to make sure their path was obstructed with him, his Vipers and trainees adamant in that task. Kill them all, or control the how many hostiles gets passed their line of defense. Hold them here and give time for support personnel to eliminate any and all traces of their involvement here. Safe measures in case there was no victory in their defense.

“Snake, there’s a Jedi in our vicinity.”

His blue eyes caught sight of the man wielding a cobalt blade that confirmed to be a Jedi. A hot target that needed to be neutralized immediately before more damage could be expanded. Already an Atrisian, one of the best ones, engaged with the Jedi. Nagata treated it like an honor duel with his vibro-katana in hand, not using any other weapons or tools for this dance. It was honorable to the traditions of the Atrisians, but that wasn’t part to Djorn. An archaic idea that meant little to the dead.

“Continhe the task, don’t get distracted,” he firmly said while moving to intercept the Jedi and Nagata.

ALLIES | NIO | AIF | KRIG | WARRIOR CASTE | Konrad Bolter
ENEMIES | GA | INTELLIGENTSIA | Oceiros Sunstrider

 

[Meko Sorrin]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
OPERATION : IRON DAWN
Allies | NIO | YINCHORRI WARRIOR CASTE
Enemies | GA | INTELLIGISIA | Bayaz

​

Got him in my sights.

The Alliance Marine continued to advance along with the enemy. Trying to follow a scope behind him wasn't so easy when you have plenty of other targets to shoot at. He knew that members of the Inteligencia were enemies as well, but the marine was of prime interest. He had to involved with some sort of leadership, and that was gold in during an on-going battle. Sending another shot into a flutterpack that flew by, the marine went out of sight. Most likely behind some type of cover and his rifle didn't have the power to penetrate concrete barriers. A shame.

His rifle trained on another Inteligencia flyer, and with a squeeze of the trigger, it trailed down to towards the ground leading into a small explosion. Another one down. He began to scan the battlefield once more and then he spotted the marine again. He was rushing straight for his position, and he didn't look like he was ready to stop. Sorrin held his rifle with a steady grip as he looked down the scope once more. The target was moving, but a trailing shot wouldn't be so hard. The shot was lined up perfectly. One more second...

An explosion happened near his position. It wasn't your average explosion however, it was a thermal imploder. Debris shot in multiple directions, some pieces hot to the touch. Meko ducked down to avoid getting hit with any flying projectiles but they still landed on top of him, not to mention the dirt flying everywhere. Meko could feel the heat coming off broken pieces of metal and concrete and left bruises as they landed hard on his body. He had to quickly regain his barriers if he was to not get killed. Wiping the dirt off of his visor, he looked around frantically. Any allies, any enemies, anything. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he saw the marine. He was there, hunkered down in a new position. A small group of soldiers followed him, so just taking him out wouldn't as easy as he said it would be. Sorrin scrambled to his feet and quickly sprinted to a concrete barrier opposite the marine's position. It was at an angle, meaning he wasn't susceptible to any straightforward attacks but he would have that nice sightline to get a few quick shots off. The tower support was missing shots like crazy, so ground troopers were all that was left to have faith in. Gripping his rifle once more, he put the handgrip on the barrier and began to empty the power pack. The best he could do was suppress fire until a bit of help comes, but judging by the surrounding chaos, it might not come in time.

Keep shooting.

 

[Taysonyl Callenid]

Enedina Tal | Alex Locke Qell Auraeli Frea Sheplin
​

Anti-air. Tay was in the air, wasn't she? She steadied her hands by gripping the stick tighter, but she couldn't control her breathing. There was a flicker as a few small projectiles sped towards the formation of X-wings. Tay's eyes focused on only one. She saw it. It was coming toward her. She needed to move.

Move.

Stop.

She blinked. Alarms flashed. The damage report flashed in front of her. The lower-right engine of her X-wing was in flames, and the top right was disabled at best. The noise became unbearable, the sweat collected under her helmet, the muscles in her neck tightened. She held her breath as the nose of her fighter took a dive.

Without thinking she reached down to the emergency level and pulled; not strongly enough at first, then almost enough to break it. The Firrerreo went from an Alliance pilot to a speck sitting in a chair with a gravchute faster than a Jedi could ignite their saber. She shivered in her seat until it slammed into the ground and she tumbled into the dirt.

The X-wing left a trail of parts across the rocky desert of Yinchorr, and Taysonyl Callenid stared at the dirt, coughing and shaking.

 

[Oceiros Sunstrider]

Location: Yinchor
Objective: Wayward Light
Allies: Galactic Alliance | Rebel Alliance | Bernard of Arca
Enemies: New Imperial Order | Sons of Mandalore | Djorn Bline | Konrad Bolter

Eyes scanning the battlefield Oceiros finally rose from his kneeled position. Lasers from other cavalry units bit into the ground and encampments that surrounded him. Plumes of flame rose to the air as the work of the Imperials was brought low. The scent of war was on the air, ashes and embers filling the air but even through them the Epicanthix could see the Atrisian. Eyes meeting, the Jedi made no further moves, allowing the Atrisian to prepare. While this was in fact a battle he had no intentions on striking one down while they were helpless.

Pointed down and to the right, the cobalt blade cast a dim bluish glow around the Epicanthix. Left foot sliding back and pointing off to the side Oceiros exhaled centering himself, bending slightly at his knees, now a much smaller target. On Brentaal it had been so long since he wielded a saber, now after Brentaal, and Bastion the Jedi could finally find comfort in his own skills. All those distractions that once lingered in the padawan’s mind slowly faded to nothing. His eyes sharpened and focused as the Atrisian closed in.

The screech of the vibrokatana matched and exceeded those of the beasts that lingered in Yinchorr’s wilderness. It and its owner didn’t seek anything more than blood. Blood to satiate their need for violence, the need to prove that they were truly fighting for a worthy cause. Oceiros had seen it with the Sith, for all the hate the Imperials bore for them, they were no better in the end.

Kicking off the ground with his lead foot Oceiros dodged the silver blade as it came down penetrating the air where the Jedi had once been. Saber raising, Oceiros already expected what was to come next. Stepping in and bringing his blade down the blades met with a resounding ring. Sparks shot free between the two as they were locked together.

The words of the Atrisian, fell on the Jedi’s ears but only for so long. Body shifting Oceiros’ right leg lashed out the heel of his foot flying to meet the Atrisian’s solar plexus before the Jedi danced back a step to create room, the sensation on the back of his neck alerting him to more danger. From behind another approached, though far more armed and with less honor than the Atrisian, with the mentality of a soldier. Pride meant nothing in their wake. Only the completion of their task.

Standing away from the Atrisian, Oceiros' eyes flashed between him and the approaching soldier as he turned to have both in his sights. "Sacrifice is a part of life. It's not something to regret. It's not something to simply carry and tote around as a source of pride. It's something to aspire to. That is a lesson I believe you have still yet to learn."

 

[Seydou of Thyrsus]

SONS OF MANDALORE
S H R I E K - H A W K
OPERATION: IRON DAWN
N I G H T _ C R A W L E R

​

Amon would've been one step ahead of his enemy had the enemy been your standard Jedi but Treicolt was a whole different breed of degenerate Force Users. That thought occured to him when surprise washed over the Mandalorian as he saw the Jedi abandon his lightsaber completely in order to pin him. The overprized and overvalued blade of the Jedi was as much as their strength as their weakness. Apparently not for Treicolt.

He landed roughly on the ground, the impact rattling bones and straining nerves.; something cracked underneath. The Jedi pressuring his buy'ce seemed like a tactic bound to fail but the Force said otherwise. Amon's eyeballs bloated, wanted to pop out and escape their sockets. His breath shortened as his lungs were crushed under the weight of the Jedi.

A well-round, melee fighte himself, the Mandalorian's agility allowed him to slither through Maynard's attempt to lock his arms. He brought them in front of his chest and yanked him closer, Amon's head followed next with a kiss. Once, twice, thrice - as much as he could land and as much as it was needed to get the Jedi plague off him.

ALLIES | NIO | AIF | KRIG | WARRIOR CASTE
ENEMIES | GA | INTELLIGENTSIA | Maynard Treicolt [ENGAGING]

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

W O L F P A C K
THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE
104TH MARINE BATTALION 'WOLFPACK'
OPERATION : WAYWARD LIGHT
S T I N K F I S T

That lightsaber was never all too sentimental. Else he might not have disregarded with a spite filled lob into the natured abandonment of Concord Dawn. He'd endured through this galaxy as a survivor. A man who was put low into the blood and mud far too often than he'd ever preferred and far more often than any average man could endure again and again. Every time, he rose back up to his feet.

This fight was machinating into another muddied scrap and the Jedi was all but eager to envelop himself in the struggle. He was quick to establish a control around Amon's hips but the Mandalorian was quick to work for his arms, to pull him closer to his means of control. The Jedi managed to slip his arms free but even still the Mandalorian managed enough leverage to plan the Keldabe kiss unto him...one...twice...three times. His face was bloodied, bruised with his temple split from the strike but he looked back into the T-visor gaze of the Mandalorian with an inferno in his eyes.

He moved up and down unto the ground, leaning into his left should before he moved to snatch Amon's wrist and extend his arm outwards before bracing his elbow over his bicep and grasping his palms in a gable grip to secure a hold of the Mandalorian's extended arm. Threatening to twist and break the bone.

All the while, Maynard peered back with weary, bloodied eyes toward the T-visor. Hoping he might then realize the nature of his opponent. That he was no merciful warrior of virtue. That if he was going to stand up in threat to him...or anyone he loved. He'd break him. Or kill him.

Amon Vizsla

 

[Konrad Bolter]

S E V E N _ L I V E S
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
ATRISIA TENKOKU SENSEN
OPERATION : IRON DAWN
G H O S T _ S T A N C E

Typical of the Jedi. Ever so eager to talk down on their opponent. To hoist and tout false virtues in dedication to an arbitrary code that deemed them 'better' in heart and soul than those who could not bare this gift that they did. Nagata sneered at the claim of the Epicanthix. Atrisia was a land of struggle. A gem to be waged and fought over by the surrounding Galactic governments. Put to the sword by the Sith, the Jedi and now under the decadent violet subjugation.

To see it freed, to die beneath the Atrisian sun, Nagata would do anything. If it meant his people would bask in Imperial glory beneath the Rising Sun again, he would give everything to this crusade. And no Jedi would stop him. That kick to his abdomen grasped and pulled the wind from his longs, nearly sending him to his knees in the fallout of the strike of the Jedi's muscular limb to his gut. There were few places on the human form that could accumulate in greater pain than the Solar Plexis when struck.

The Atrisian endured.

"We'll see if you've aspired enough then, Jedai." Nagata said, gritting his teeth as he weighed his body into another swipe of his curved blade toward the Epicanthix warrior. Whether the New Imperial operative joined the fray or not, he cared little. He put little stock in anything else that wasn't his mind and body. That mortal shell that was the culmination of the endurance and sacrifice of all his ancestors who'd roamed before him. He would put the fear of the Atrisian deep into the heart of this Jedi or die in the process. There was no evening to his polarization of his soul made radicalized in a hungered yearning for his homeland.

Djorn Bline | Oceiros Sunstrider

 

[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)

​

That dark fist dropped from the sky like a hammer upon Gala Geert 's green features.

When contact was made, he was rewarded with the spurt of scarlet fluids painting his closed fist. Before he himself could pull away, he felt the sting of her second vibroblade biting into his opposite shoulder, sinking through the armour and cleaving into his flesh and muscle and he cursed, though not as obviously as the Mirialan did.

Feeling the blood that seeped out slipping between his plates of armour and bodysuit, he knew the wound wasn't bad as he mentally tried to assess possible damage. He healed fast, he had known that much from a young age. As far as he knew there were no vital organs in his arms, so he'd be alright for the most part. Due to his physiology it'd likely heal nicely within a few hours.

Reaching that left arm up to clasp his right arm, he felt the kick that she flung at him and he jerked backwards with a grunt, but otherwise unbothered. The fight could continue, but as far as Tavius saw it, the base had been compromised and it was time to get the feth out of there. There was undoubtedly another official, probably a spook that had set about to eradicating any of the evidence that it had been the New Imperial Order that backed the Yinchorri Warrior Caste. And whether that was true or not, Tavius would will it so, those jet boots activating to take him away to the probable clandestine evac site.

 

[Théodoro]

// THEO // THYRSIAN SUN GUARD // IN SEARCH OF GREATNESS
// OBJECTIVE // DUEL A JEDI // UNLEASH
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt
// REGALIA // IN BIO // 2x Wrist Rockets

Oh, yes.

The way she twisted in such an impossible way, reacting in an instant, creating a barrier -- this was the fight he'd been searching for. This was a Jedi Knight.

The Thyrsian roared as the shimmering barrier closed in; slamming and slashing against his constraints even as they grew tighter. His eyes flicked side to side as he resisted. It wasn't enough to escape; far from it, but this barrier wasn't strong enough to crush him. The force was on the outside -- if she was trying to kill him, attacking his organs directly would've been far more effective. Jedi and their restraint...

Still, it did present a number of problems. Aside from the fact that he was trapped in the bubble, the crushing force was causing some of the impact gel in his armor to activate, which would limit his mobility when he escaped. His helmet returned to encase his head as he continued to struggle against his cage.

It was then that the Jedi paused to ask a question. Disappointment crossed his face. They'd been getting somewhere, and now she stopped to ask questions? True battle did not deal in such trivialities. His eyes focused on the woman. She was talking, yes, but it seemed that the focus was more on holding him in the bubble of supernatural force. Most importantly, though, was that he could hear her. Doubtless that she could hear him, too. The young Sun Guard laughed aloud.

"I do as I wish! And now, I wish to fight you! Now-" His eyes flicked around in his helmet. In an instant the bubble filled with gases as the high-density gel packets and dampener aerosol were fired off. The plasma disruptors mounted on his gauntlets activated as well, and he renewed his efforts to break free. Anything to escape.

The annunciator in his helmet amplified his voice to an ear-splitting roar.

"LET

ME​

GO!"

​

 

[Lucien Dooku]

[P R A Y I D I E]
KAL'ORITSOR | JEDI ARMOR
173RD. STORMTROOPER LEGION - THE MYRMIDONS
OBJECTIVE II - Aerarii Tithe

---

---

Sometimes it even surprised him as to what the outcome of a force user aggressively using a force artifact could accomplish. He ripped through the transport with enough zeal that the occupants inside were well and truly unwilling to do much, if anything at all. Combined with the Mandalorians and Unmarked Myrmidons companions that hovered around him, such a small yet elite force of warfighters were easily able to subdue anything that they were able to throw at them from the inside. Resistance was a fool's folly, which he hoped would be clear to those inside if they maintained any semblance of a desire to save their lives to fight another day.

A tense moment followed the inaction after his declaration, when the hydraulics of the transport door's hinges creaked to life beneath the stress of the fragmented hull around it. Out came the person who he figured was in charge. Behind him Luc could see the wounded still within the vehicle, nursing their wounds whilst their leader came out to parley with their attackers. Luc had his mind elsewhere, observing his features and absorbing in the man's emotions through the force. He could tell that the individual seemed ill-suited, to put it lightly, for the type of war that he and his men had fought consistently for years by that point. Their transport was evident enough to that, but Luc had granted him the benefit of the doubt considering it wasn't truly a vehicle of war in the first place.

But regardless, his interest would finally pique upon hearing a handful of words that actually answered what he'd come looking for.

“We, ah, we mean you no harm. We’re observers, non-combatant support, accoutrement to the Galactic Alliance presence.”

"...The Alliance?"

Luc answered back, the cold gaze within his eyes beginning to soften up a tad upon taking in fully what the man had said. His position within the New Imperial Order demanded that he display a semblance of loyalty to it, but truth be told, his loyalties to Tavlar far outweighed any commitment that the Order felt it deserved from him. Fighting the alliance-- their supposed allies -- was not something he considered on the cards that day. Granted the Yinchorri on the other side of the lines had been a bit on the quiet side before their surprise offensive, he still never considered a scenario where the Order and their allies would eventually meet on the field, even in the limited capacity that Yinchorr would offer.

His eyes shifted away from Tithe for a moment, settling upon his command squad's second-in-command. He was one of the two Mandalorians currently hovering within the air, and upon seeing his commander's eyes settle onto him, he dropped down to the ground and landed next to the Jedi with a thud. Luc didn't give the man any time to speak before he addressed the Mando, his attention shifting entirely away from Aerarii Tithe for the meantime. "Take the squad and break through the Intelligentsia's lines utilizing the same route as before." Luc began, raising a fist into the air momentarily to deliver a silent signal to his squad.

Rifles lowered across the squad, and vibroblades no longer added to the audible background noise that filled the air around them. The Mandalorian didn't question Luc's order despite having a full comprehension of just what the Jedi was alluding to doing. Unorthodox as it may have been, the Myrmidons never waned in the trust they held for their foolish Jedi commander. The conversation had been broadcasted on the squad's shared comms, leading to the medic within their group entering the transport to quickly provide first-aid to the occupants inside-- with an escort of the other heavily-armed Mandalorian. Just in case, of course.

"Try not to engage the Yinchorri if at all possible, yeah? I'd rather not shed unneeded blood, especially with shit being so murky as it is." Luc continued, reaching to the strap across his back and removing the sheathed force relic from its spot beneath his jetpack. He tossed it to the Mandalorian, then unclipped his lightsaber and did the same once again. The pistol holstered on his hip remained where it was. He didn't need it, but he also really didn't need it if his aim were to be hostile towards the Alliance personnel around him. The Mandalorian gave his commander a final nod before he lifted off into the air, bringing himself to a hover as the Medic returned from performing emergency triage on the soldiers inside the vehicle. The squad took off back towards friendly lines seconds later, thrusting away at max speed in order to make the trip as uncomplicated as possible.

Luc sighed, returning his gaze back towards Tithe. Extending a hand out towards the man, he offered to shake his hand, offsetting the previous mentality he held when Luc was consigned to cutting his transport quite literally in half. "Sorry 'bout the transport, but you should really consider listening when someone asks you to parley." Handshake broken, he'd return his arms to once more lazily drift across his chest. "I'm Lucien Dooku, Warlord of Nirauan Province, of the New Imperial Order. I'm assuming that we aren't officially in a state of war , therefore I'm offering my surrender within the terms of my diplomatic immunity."

A smirk crept on his face. "Take it as you wish, but i'd like to see your superiors."

​

 

[Daros Karmann]

SHEER_WILL_AND_COMMITMENT
SPECIAL AGENT DAROS KARMANN
OPERATION : IRON DAWN

The Major's arrival was an unexpected surprise, but a welcomed one for sure. He knew her to be a professional and consummate soldier, if a little inhuman. He accepted the weapon and took a second to gather his breath. Together, the two of them could blow a hole through the enemy in the hallway. Not accounting for her own kill count, there could be anywhere from a squad to a platoon running amok in the labyrinth.

He shook his head at her words. "Security room tapes." Daros dug into his pockets and handed her a small disk without waiting for her approval. "Smash the recording device, but not before you upload the disk."

Glancing over his cover, he saw movement rapidly approaching their direction. "I'll run interference. You just rush over to the fucking room before they do." He didn't leave her enough time to formulate a response in that cybernetic head of hers, and dash around the corner into three riflemen. He wrenched a blaster barrel aside and quickly fired two shots into the man's face.

As the body fell he held onto the rifle and executed the second man, who fired his weapon out of desperation- Daros could feel the heat of the bolt as it flew past his head.

The third riflemen backed away smartly and fired a barrage from his weapon, but Daros had already ducked beneath the wide shots and shot at his center mass. The trooper fell back against the wall with a pained grunt. Voices clamoured nearby as enemy troopers converged on his location. He wasted no time in scavenging ammunition from the the dead, before dashing ahead.

He scarcely broke into the opening before bolts whizzed angrily from his right. He ducked back into cover, tossing a grenade into the hallway. Panicked voices ordered their men to fall back just as the detonator disappeared in a flash of brilliant light. Daros swung around with his weapon up and pushed onwards, putting dying men out of their misery. The last soldier of the unit dragged his body across the carpeted hallway, his legs blown to bloody stumps.

Daros felt a pang of regret and sympathy, his own legs suddenly ice cold. To the soldier's credit, the moment his hands fumbled onto his blaster, he immediately turned around and tried to shoot Daros. The weapon glowed, and then died in a whine. Shrapnel had killed the weapon as much as it had devastated the squad.

The COMPNOR agent aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. The barrel glowed, and then spat out brilliant, dazzling death. More voices nearby. He left the corpse, eyes closed.

He kept up the game of cat and mouse, dashing and ducking into corridors, hallways and conjoined rooms, frustrating the hunters. Each time he appeared, it was to a small hunting party of 3 or fewer men, exterminating in cold professionalism that was a far cry from his prior, heated fight for survival. Eventually he ditched the pistol Strasza had gifted him, but reacquired his scattergun along the way. Even his pilfered blaster, he had lost, thrown at the enemy after it ran out on him in the middle of a firefight.

Along with weapons, he also picked up more wounds. None of the hunting cells gave up without a fight, and his helmet was discarded. He felt the black eye and the bolter burns of near-misses along his jaw, even if he couldn't see them. He walked with a limp, a deep aching pain that cut through his sprained ankle. Small prices of physical exertion for precious seconds alive.

The enemy were well trained, and despite their casualties, had regrouped in good order, refusing to spread out any further. He didn't know how many they were. He could be fighting an entire company that had been slowly reinforcing over time, by his own self. Daros checked his watch- the Major had better reached the security room by now. He didn't know how long he could keep up.

Exhaustion moved into his body, slow and insidious, removing adrenaline from his system and replacing energy with fatigue. But he had a job, and a familial commitment to honour. So he loaded his weapon, chest heaving for air as he watched the corner. An idea crept into his mind as he waited. He looked at one of the dead troopers and removed her helmet. Her radio was buzzing with communication. Bit by bit, he picked up a few words, but enough to tell him their next plans.

It also gave him one last opportunity to play his next card. Fiddling with the buttons, he managed to open a line into an open channel for the ears of everyone still listening. It was a gamble, a desperate one, but no one else knew what his job on Yinchorr was- not even the Major knew for full certainty, and she was the closest person he had to a friend here.

"Attention."

He released the button, trying to suppress a sudden coughing fit. "Attention. This base is rigged to blow as part of a contingency plan with enough explosives to leave a giant crater. I repeat, this base will detonate its explosives in five minutes. You have until then to clear off." He paused, looking at his inventory. He didn't have the means to make a crater that he preached, but he did have enough satchel charges in his backpack to make a large mess of the base if placed in the reactor room. It was all a matter of forcing a critical failure, which could be easily done.

"Good luck."

He threw the helmet away and stepped over the corpses. Strasza was on her own now, he couldn't reach her and go through with his own threats. With no radio of his own, nor a functioning datapad, he couldn't communicate with her either. He prayed that she would forgive him for the sudden twist, but he knew deep down, as sure as the stabbing pains of his wounds, that she would only add to his injuries the next time they met.

He racked his weapon and turned around the corner.

If they met.

// ALLIES : NIO, AIF, KRIG, WARRIOR CASTE | Meko Sorrin Tavius Muuaji Amon Vizsla Konrad Bolter Noel Strasza ​

// ENEMIES : Loske Treicolt , GA, INTELLIGENTSIA, 104th Battalion Troopers | OPEN​