Objectives:
- Hold the Line
- Die Like a Hero
- Make Your Escape
- Aid the Wounded
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)
'Master-Sergeant Ramon Cantrell.'
Standing to attention in a clear gesture of respect between soldiers, the obedience and duty factor would be ruled out for the understanding of what they were all about to endeavour together, showing clearer than ever when Erin sounded off,
'First Sergeant Erin One-Four-One and Staff Sergeant Jack one-three eight reporting for duty.', before relaxing to a calmly-confident, non-regulation stance once more. There was much and more to take in after all, many and more readying for the last defensive play of the battle, seen in the Elite's demeanour as her helmeted gaze drifted to and fro.
Survivors like her should live to see another day.
Briefly turning his gaze to the Elite who ensured their safe return to FOB: Belisarius just days before, Ramon scoffed at his own neglectful ignorance as he considered the numerous moments (in that one engagement in particular) when Jack saved his life from hidden cannibal-sharpshooters on their way back. The Tetan distractedly smiled under the obscurity of his helmet in consideration of this, almost an instant away from remembering the state Erin was found in but Esk-141 chimed in,
'Master-Sergeant.', then pausing to adopt a warmer tone in contrast.
'It'll be simpler if you call me,"Erin", "Chief", or,"Sergeant" though.'
Nodding amiable acceptance with open and receptive demeanour, Cantrell would appreciate the dropping of Imperial soldiering etiquette, for it didn't matter much to any of them by then. Not whilst the planet burned, not whilst Imperials and Chiss alike suffered, bled and died beyond the walls, beyond salvation and the reprieve of their helping hands - beyond the dignified deaths they all deserved to embrace on their own terms.
'I apologise there aren't more of us.', Erin said soon after, voice changing to reflect her part in the mutual awareness of the fact the writing was well and truly on the wall for all the Imperials still fighting on Noris. Fearsome though she appeared in the Rampart power-armour, it was obvious that none of the suffering sat well with the Elite, and on that occasion, Ramon accepted it for the moral right that it was, being thoroughly happy to have someone with a heart fighting alongside his subordinates for the battle's final moments. There was much and more that Cantrell would be thankful for in that moment, and even more when 141 continued,
'But we'll still stop them.', politely expressing her disdain towards hopelessness as a concept and further enhancing the Tetan's morale in the process. Rare were soldiers such as these, but in that moment, Ramon realised that both Jack and Erin retained qualities seen most-specifically in All-Heart himself, silently dumbfounding himself as a result of the self-revelation.
'Shall we get going?'
Remmel, it would seem that your,"All-Heart", legacy has been assured.... Oh.
'Mierda....', Cantrell began, trailing off as he cursed quietly to himself with head bowed, then lifting his chin again to look at the two armoured Elites before him before bringing his helmet over his head, hiding the first teary droplets of his grief-struck realisation as the air-tight hiss hid the shuddering sigh that threatened to rob the Tetan of his Iron-wrought resolve. It would take a moment to snap himself out of it, but when he did, revealing,
'I hate to admit it, but I think Captain Karsh is-', was too much to bear, storming off ahead with a beckoning hand-signal for the Elites to walk with him. Ramon had every reason to break down and give in to his despair, especially with the Maw closing in around FOB: Belisarius on all sides with every passing second, but his willpower would return as he growled,
'I want you to inflict untold agonies on these freaks, I want every last one of them to suffer!', over the din of distant artillery shelling, taking the safety off his rifle then holding it up with his right hand as a signal to the Scopes by the east gate.
'AAAAAAAVEEEEEEEEEEE RUUUUUURIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK!!!!'
And thus the red mist descended, bringing the Tetan to a state of warfighting fury that would be impossible to repulse for as long as none could get a clean shot on him, bringing the other Scopes to a similar rage as they opened the east gate and began fanning out beyond it, with rifles shouldered and pointing out to the battlefield beyond in anticipation of the madness that awaited their collective advance. By the time the trio passed the gate, all the Embers' best sharpshooters were past the threshold and spacing out generously already, set in their wild, wide-eyed death-stares to give their enemies a fright in the event their helmets were removed from their lifeless corpses, disregarding the ticking-clock completely as the skirmishing line widened to it's farthest reaching points on either side. It was too late to consider if one circumstance nullified the relevance of another, too late for what-ifs and how-comes alike, so all that could possibly remain for the Scopes was the fight itself, and their collective urge to inflict brutalising judgement on their Mawite adversaries with the time they had left.
<"All Scopes, this is Ramon! This is my last moment of kindly coherence, so I'm going to make it count while there's still time to do so; we saved the life of one Elite, but I would like it if we tried for two this time, reasons though.... One, they're too young to die just yet, and two, they're much too valuable to the war-effort.">
Double-clicks on the comm-link shot like automatic blaster-fire on the airwaves, all replying,
"Affirmative", in quickness and the attempt to adopt early OPSEC at the same time. In any other circumstance, the Master-Sergeant may not have been pleased in the slightest by it, irritated beyond reason in any other occasion it had been done before, but this time, on this night of nights, Ramon would allow it - letting it increase his adrenal output as the clicks steadily increased then quickly died off to silence within seconds.
<"And without further ado, it brings me my last great pleasure to say.... Scatter!">
Like a gust, the Scopes ran into the smoky fog of the eastern battlefront beyond, sprinting into the unknown with bloodthirsty, vengeful intent as the Tetan calmly let the moment sink in, taking in the sheer ferocity that he could feel in each and every sniper he saw leaping forth.
'You two, set your scopes to thermal-optics and follow me. First part's easy - first part's fun.'
Then just like the others, Ramon sprinted into the hazy city beyond the walls, and with two of the empire's best troopers in tow, using smoky fog as cover for the first segment of their advance. Some of the first shots of the advance would be heard pulsating nearby also, with comm-chatter lighting up the local channels with kill-confirmations and orders to continue as intended, painting a supremely clear picture of the Scopes' ferocity in their attempt to close the distance. Comm-chatter would also light up between the Elite and Ramon in the center of the line, also making good progress as they swiftly made quiet work of each risk factor who walked into the trio's line of fire, with the occasional melee-kill in silence applied in last efforts to conserve ammunition. Covering street after street, block after block like it was just another deployment, even after the heaviest of the murk had long since been passed and directed by gusts elsewhere, but the time for serious warfare would arrive soon enough, much to the excitement of the Scopes sat waiting from their newly-acquired vantage points.
<"We're all set, Ramon. Where you at?">
<"Don't worry, Denzo. We're close.... I can hear the hostilities quite easily now.">
<"Copy that, Scope Three out!">
And within minutes, the Master-Sergeant was standing atop a derelict three-floor housing block's roof, overlooking the last approach to the spaceport itself, bearing witness to the sorts of horrors the Imperials had been enduring through the uncomfortably graphic view of his rifle-scope. Despite the fact the Imperials along the trench-line were fighting doggedly to keep their foes at bay, it was obvious to all who were watching that their comrades were just minutes away from breaking, with Embers, Sabretooth-Troopers, and others holding on against all hope, sacrificing their lives in a way that served to strengthen the resolve of each and every last surviving Scope who had to watch.
<"So what's the battle order this time, Ramon?">
<"Simple one this time, Quinton. Break this assault, then prepare to defend against the next one.... Mark targets, load.... Confirming fire at will order, check wind direction.... Fire - fire - fire!">
A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 15
FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)
Unflinching in the face of All-Heart's final act of defiance against his aggressor, Kryze watched on as Karsh roared at the top of his lungs, taking it all in as his vision returned to focused, 20/20 vision once more. The armoured-headbutt had been enough to create space between them, and had been enough to leave a mark that would stay with the Mandalorian for as long as he shied away from a Bacta tank, but it wasn't enough to dissuade Khamul in any way, shape or form - only serving to enhance the rage that powered his pulsating blade.
The angrier the Mandalorian became, the brighter the blade pulsated it's red hue, and what a pretty glow it was to the old Captain, appearing as something beautiful enough to be considered otherworldly as his eyes drifted in transfixed magnetism towards a weapon of which Karsh had never seen the like. In this realisation, Karsh would delight in another revelation, such that screamed out from the depths of his soul; bellowing into All-Heart's mind that he'd never known a weapon to appear so alluring as it was in that moment, gleaming with the wrath that soared up from within the Mandalorian's heart. And as Khamul's sword continued to grow brighter, Remmel nodded satisfaction that his headsman was using something much more eye-catching than something as cold and soulless as an executioner's axe, considering it an honour most befitting of an old, scarred warrior of the Empire.
'Yes... a dog... AND NOTHING MORE!!!'
And this old dog has had it's day.
A low mechanical hiss was heard soon later, rising into a roar of air-pressure, then a bright flash of fiery light momentarily snapped Karsh out of his pre-death meditation, defining the silhouette form of Kryze's Beskar'gam whilst the Imperial set a low, cat-like fighting stance once more. Then, as soon as the Mandalorian's body lurched forward with the increased momentum, so too did the Krieger, sprinting forward with weapons bared like his final moments were all too easy to endeavour by then, almost as if the hardest part of it all had been endured already. Even as his arms instinctively thrust his weapons out to block the full-force of the attack, Remmel knew it was all over, smiling gleefully under his helmet as the pulsating blade cut through his weapons like butter; no flat-side safety net this time, no headbutt-delivered breathing space, just a short moment to allow a smile to reach an old man's lips before the end.
'For the Empire.'
With head parting from his shoulders, the air-tight seal that kept the helmet on his face was burst upon impact, sending the helmet careening off the old man's face as the head itself fell spinning towards the ground. Khamul, if he was savouring the kill as much as Remmel had hoped, would be paying attention to the resting expression of the Thane he had just beheaded, and would notice that the old man had been smiling in the end; not with rage, jest or insolence, and not with any smile Kryze would ever expect of a dying Imperial. Instead, what the Mandalorian would find, (confirmed as soon as the Krieger's head bounced off the ground between them) was a smile of the purest, most unadulterated bliss. Going far beyond the many realms of acquiescence, with soul leaving for somewhere more like home in a journey that made such notions seem far too petty to worry about - a home where the bravest of his ancestors awaited.
Thank you, Mawite. And like this old dog, I know you'll see your day also.
I'll be waiting in the Nether, lad.
And thus ended the storied life of Thane Remmel Karsh, Captain of 15th Company, best shot in the Embers; father, husband, friend and leader to honourable people, proud native of planet Krieg. From the thawing wilderness of Nachtland, in all it's lush, snow-topped beauty, to the Empire's war-torn western frontier on Noris, the man they dubbed,
"All-Heart", had been a pillar of strength and duty to all who had the honour of knowing the Captain personally. His gift for language, sign-language and Lorrdian Kinetic Communication were also great aspects to an already great man, a passion that later became necessity; such that Karsh would welcome with open arms, giving his all for souls born of his own, and for souls fighting for the survival of his own in turn. A fierce man he may have been in combat, throwing every last ounce of his strength into fights others would see as unwinnable, but that fierce wrath had always contrasted to a ferocious ability to love and care for people in dire need of it.
Such a man's bright, heavy-hitting spirit, with that explosive strength and sincerity for which so many were grateful, would no doubt find it's way to the Halls of his Forefathers; passing between realms in combat, though not only as a brave, but for doing so with an otherworldly gladness in his heart. If his beliefs were as correct as he believed, then a warrior-champion's welcome would await the old Thane at the gates of Aesvania, for all the parameters for entry had been met, and the courage required to slip his mortal coil in such a way had far exceeded all expectations, both recent and ancestral alike.
All-Heart died a hero that night, but as for the question of whether any would learn of his valour or not, would be left entirely to fate, the Empire and the Galaxy's fleeting curiosity.
Thane Remmel Karsh,"All-Heart"
Captain of 15th Company,"The Embers"
812 - 874 ABY
"Death smiles at us all, but all a man can do is smile back." - Marcus Aurelius.
DECEASED Remmel Karsh
| Murraea Pharo |
Jorus Fel
| Morrow |
Jalter Volff
|
Mav Ryburn
|
Kinoan
|
TK-8867
| Anith Dorce | Frajan Borjar |
Greven Astor
| Aerys Myrrine | Others
The Mongrel
|
Keilara Kala'myr
|
Subject 54 Havoc
|
Erion Justeene
|
Romund Sro
|
Darth Kalyptos
|
Darth Ptolemis
|
Khamul Kryze
|
Electra-12
|
Darth Saevius
| Others
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