Invasion The Eleventh Hour | BotM Invasion of NIO held Noris and Sharb

[Rannan Kol]

Location: No Mans Land
Allies: Skorge the Bloodied | Kyrel Ren
Enemies: NIO | Melvain Braxis | FN-999
Equipment: Apostles Vestments; The Dark Sacraments​

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The Dust Cloud created by the explosions in the trenches began to part and the force revealed an unfamiliar presence as Kol turned his head to see Knight Commander Ondarr approaching him. When Ondarr spoke to him the Dark Apostle offered a strange smile in return before replying across the lessening distance as the Knight Commander descended upon him...

"Gladly."

...the damage had already been done, the destruction of the forward trenchworks had disrupted most of Kol's focus and it was merely a token gesture for him to release any minds that his illusions may have still held sway over. It didn't matter though. The Troopers could no longer trust their own eyes, any of the Ninety-Nine that had failed to evacuate the trenchworks and lived could be the enemy. How would FN-999 and any other survivors not already in the secondary trenches react to anyone dressed as an Imperial wandering out of the dust cloud now?

As for the rest Kol would meet the Knight Commander in battle as he sprung forward to meet his descent. The Dark Apostle wielded the 'Dark Sacraments' which were altogether shorter than a normal lightsaber but compensated by working in a near flawless tandem with one another and being no less deadly.

Attacking Ondarr Kol would make a flurry of blows using the lightsaber in his dominant right hand parry and otherwise attempt to tie up his opponents weapon while the lightsaber in his left, non dominant hand had transitioned into an inverted grip that he used to make quick fanning cuts and slashes on a forwards arc the targeted the joints and soft areas on Ondarr's armor.

When the dust began to clear it would be easier for the Imperial Troopers to see those still on or attempting to cross No Mans Land as well. Beyond the Marauders and 'Moon Children' that had survived the explosions in the initial trench works there were more beyond them, always more it seemed.

Doubtless that included Kol, the Knight Commander and anyone else currently fighting out there in the barrens on the battlefield as well.​

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

LOCATION: NORIS
EQUIPMENT: IN BIO
ALLIES: NIO, Koda Fett
ENEMIES: MAW, Xuan Vo
​

The Jawsome was no graceful creature.

It existed as many sharks did; propelling itself forward powerfully, chewing up anything that got in it's way.

Ghorua kept an eye on the ships positions, noting with some pleasure that the destroyer they had targeted had unknowingly maneuvered itself into the perfect conditions for the Bounty Hunters' ambush. It was only a matter of time before they busted through the hangar.

But then Koda had an idea. Ghorua listened to his message to the fleet, and quite literally facepalmed from his seat in the captain's chair as the call was directed at the Sith fleet.

"There is no way that works."

 

[Aerys Yvarro]

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313TH STROOMTROOPER LEGION
"SABERTOOTH"

1ST BATTALION
1ST COMPANY

MYRRINE'S
"ASTRAL LIONS"

Approaching FOB: Belisarius
From the Southern Outskirts​

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While their sound was distorted, Myrrine radioed ahead to the base. Letting their brothers and sisters in arms know that they were not alone, not today, not ever. "313th. Advance. South." Jorus Fel Gavyn Berand and DECEASED Remmel Karsh are among those who receive the notice. First of the first, Sabertooth's that surround Myrrine are a fighting bunch. They're a mix for sure, mostly humanoid with one or two non-humanoids among their number. Major Shazzeke's stoic voice not too far away, never too far away he was always in range and while he boomed and bellowed his orders. Most of the younger lot took comfort in it.​

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Myrrine was indifferent at best, she didn't know if she would warm up to him in the future but for now, she pressed forward. Daughter of Corellia and Galidraan, made by violence for violence while never gifted with the Force. She was fast proving she had been created for war, and those around her benefited from her presence. What they couldn't see was the malicious smile concealed by the now off-white plastoid helmet and its enigmatic facade. The modulator distorted her voice and gave it an even more harrowing overtone, that strange-harsh digital voice. Her element had fast adapted to both her tone and her language as Dosuunian orders were shouted, and among them a morale-boosting phrase. "Emprós, mazí, tous sfázoume, steílte tous stous theoús tous!"​

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Forward together, so that they might send the Mawites to their gods. Then with resounding might, through the hell spray and explosions that surrounded them. A bloodthirsty cry, a cry of defiance emerged from the woman born with a craving for destruction who delighted in the idea of combat. "STRATIOTES! AERA!" ​

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With haste the charge commenced bayonets forward as the riflemen behind them pulled their triggers. Hues of verdant and crimson seemed to saturate Myrrine's vision as she landed the vibroblade's tip into the exposed joints of the Mawite before her. She herself felt something piercing into her body, a blade - serrated on both ends. Breaking off the blade from the shaft she headbutted the bloody disciple and pressed the barrel of her rifle into his chest. Whatever was left of him was then trampled by her and her element. "Emprós, mazí! AERA!"​

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Forward together, charge she shouted above the cacophony of destruction and the first of the first, the bloodied and worn, of the 313th pressed their advance no matter the cost.​

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The Mongrel | DECEASED Erskine Barran​

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[Ranna Sejast]

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Location: Primus Spaceport, Orbital Cannon Emplacement
Objectives: Escort evacuation ships
Allies: NIO
Enemies: Maw Bros
Equipment: Flight Suit Blast Vest Med Pack Blaster Pistols

Having returned to her Y-Wing, Prulesa was strapping in and plugging her suit into the life support as one of the harried traffic controllers briefed her through her radio. He had that tightly controlled tone of a professional under lots of stress while trying not to show fear and she realized that he didn't have much expectation of making it out himself. "Sin's Tangent, you have a group of three to escort out. Try to ward off any attack until they reach the cover if the Imperial Fleet and then on to the jump point. Your take-off window is in two minutes. Good luck." Right, that gave her plenty of time to finish powering up and a quick pre-flight.

The time came and three freighters of three different makes rose from bays on the other side of the space port and Prulesa followed suit, easily matching them in her more nimble single seater. Already in a hot zone and with as many eyes on the port as there were, she readied the Tangent's sensor jammer but held off, climbing for those oppressively grey clouds while internally cursing the slowness of the transports as they lumbered after altitude.

There! The expected lock-on warning sounded and she smashed the button activating the jammer, it was short range so hopefully wouldn't mess up the orbital cannon's targeting too bad, but with her position to the freighter's rear she had to do something. Above the cockpit's roof, her twin ions spun around and began tracking the missiles. First one fell, then a second as the third raced past her, seemed to drift for a moment, and then spiraled off having lost its lock. When no more rose up to meet them, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

 

[Jack E-138]

NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
117th STORMTROOPER DIVISION
21st Company "Cadaver Dogs"
Erin E-141 | DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Cormac Thire | Jalter Volff | Gavyn Berand | Jorus Fel | FN-999 | whoever else its late and i don't remember

'Take all the time you need, Elites! We'll be at the east gate, pushing out to keep 'em off the orbital cannon!'

Jack pointed a nod of head toward the direction of the elsewhere exclamation. "They were eager to see if you made it, too. After all they did, I can't imagine them not having a stake in your recovery," he mentioned at a volume just sufficient enough for the spectators outside to hear. An indirect acknowledgement of the work they'd done to save his friend and comrade. As gauche as Jack was, even he could pick up the triumph in the voice that called from outside medical. He might have shared the same intensity had the capability not been weeded out of him long ago. Hard not to envy them, then again, all men rooted for the outcomes in opposition of futility. Efforts for nothing quickly pile up, break the spirit, weigh down the will to repeat them.

"Thanks for not plotting the downfall of the Maw without me. You mentioned they're trying to plant explosives. Why?"

A sharp breath escaping Jack's nostrils accompanied a dull, vestigial smirk. He mimicked her L-gesture, though it lacked any vigor beyond the minimum. At Erin's wordless behest, Jack took up an All-kit tool and began assisting with her metallic inhuming. "Good question. Why do those Moof-milkers do anything?" he countered rhetorically, disdain clear in his voice. "Retribution for Nirauan? Anyone's guess is as good as mine. Maybe they're just feeling particularly diabolical today," he continued as he stood behind Erin, sealing connections between arm and shoulder.

"I used to think I wore this armour. Now, I think it wears me."

"Yeah," Jack related, hiding a pensive edge with a guise of nonchalant. It only occurred to him at that moment how long it had been since he'd removed his own. It was gradually becoming a second skin, perhaps by design of the very project that made him what he was. Every complication one could consider arising from an extended stint in the walking coffin, the armor possessed a built-in solution. In an active conflict zone, perhaps it sounded far less absurd, yet something about Erin's observation struck a furtive chord. Lately he'd contemplated the same thing, whether or not he was the implement, his armor the soldier.

"Do you have our orders?"

Picking up on yet another gesture, Jack began a stride toward the exit alongside Erin. "38th Company is on the MOAB situation." If they failed it would quickly become everyone's problem, and then no ones, but that went without saying. "Engineer Corps is working on getting that ODS running again. We're gonna back up 15th Company in keeping their asses clear while they work, all the while defending the spaceport as evacs funnel in and out." An armored hand snatched a weapon from a rack, shoved the SE-61x assertively into Erin's chestplate before taking up another. Jack pulled the slide, checked the cartridge, and subsequently hammered the slide with a closed fist.

"After what you've been through, this should be nothing. Just another hellhole."

<"Scope One, this is Croaker. We're enroute to the east gate. Time to even the score.">

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Engaging: DECEASED Remmel Karsh

Loadout: Mandalore's Lament, Regret, beskar'gam

Spoken Words of Venom

The minefield continued to be a problem, keeping the denizens of Death's Hand at bay while the Demon Mandalore closed the gap. Pushing past several of his comrades, Khamul began deflecting several incoming bolts of plasma. His intent was simple, to clear a path toward the wall, no matter the cost. As Khamul pressed forward, he reached out through the darkness, doing what he could to sense a path through the myriad of explosives left by the defenders. Slowly, the patterns in the ground were becoming clear, his sight moving beyond that of dirt and smoke and plasma. He began picking out locations of mines, holding his free hand out as he called to his troops.

"STAND BACK!"

As they scrambled to take position behind their Mand'alor, Khamul unleashed a torrent of lightning from his free hand. The plasma arced through the air and toward the ground, hitting several spots that held the landmines. Several cacophonous explosions echoed across their path, sending dirt and shrapnel everywhere. Finally... a path was cleared. Though it was enough to funnel his troops through, Khamul imagined it would still be some time before they successfully took the facility.

As he motioned for his troops to advance once again, something caught his attention. Something... someone... stalking about in the distance. Though Khamul couldn't see them, he could sense their presence. Reinforcements, perhaps. Or perhaps some wayward soldiers simply trying to make it through the day. If it was the former, then Khamul couldn't allow them to succeed in their task. He quickly gathered a small contingent of Death's Hand, pulling them to the side as he motioned toward the location of the ones he felt.

"Follow me... we have some hunting to do..."

With that, their jetpacks ignited once again, and they began to seek their quarry as a predator would their prey. Whoever these individuals were, they were about to encounter the full fury of Khamul's people... the full fury of Death's Hand.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Spaceport
Facing: Gwyneira Vizsla

Kyrel had watched with intrigue. Curious to see how his foe would react by bringing him towards the dead man. The violence speeding up as the Crimson Hands started to appear in more numbers, appearing beside Kyrel as he watched how his foe would meet him. He could only watch in amazement how as the surroundings threatened to crush the sniper that dared shot at him, he watched as he saw what looked to be explosions. As if he was trying to blow his way out.

Watching more closely, the Master of Ren had an idea that his foe was more than an ordinary sniper, feeling the anger surge through the force. His unholy hearing starting to hear the sounds of a saber. He perked up immediately to the blade’s hum getting excited by the sheer thought that who he was facing was a Force Wielder. He stepped back as the sniper’s nest collapsed, and waited for him to appear at any moment.

His eyes widened as he watched who had emerged. Recognizing the vambrace plasma shield, as well as the armor his excitement increased. Not was he only fighting a Force Wielder, but this one was a Mandalorian. Now he understood this as the Mando in front of him looked like she was a hired gun, perhaps even here in a vain attempt to stop his path of destruction. His Crimson Hands surrounded him, and watched as the feral hunger that was never ending grew to be more impatient around a prize like her.

Watching as the rage turned to action. Watching as she shot not bolts this time but sonic ammunition. He let out a feral screech as one blast had punctured into his armor. What came next was the surrounding Crimson Hands coming towards the Mando. As if acting like meat shields moved to surround her. Kyrel himself retaliated by keeping her off balance with his men, and moved with his own rage, in both heavy steps and heavy strikes tried to catch her off guard. Using his undead might with his saber in one hand and a fist in the other he tried to move the battle into an all out brawl.

 

[Karissa Saitel]

Location: Spaceport Defensive Line
Tag Foe Ignatius Rausgeber
Equipment: BH-Durin Charric Blaster Pistol │ SE-61x Particle Beam Carbine │ ZXR-1 "Precision" Energy Sword
│ ACS-208 Wrist Ion Beamer │ Concussion Grenades



Post #3

Just as she was finding an attack vector, the hulking metal behemoth belched to life again and lurched forward. The war rig reached impressive speed with its complement of speeders. All on course straight into the savage battle at Primus. Karissa cursed, kicking the speederbike into a higher gear and giving chase.

As the Maw Auxiliary unit surged closer and closer, so did the heat of battle. The ISB agent could see massive violence, explosions, blaster fire shredding ranks, even lightsabers sweeping in arcs around the embattled trenches. The ion cannon had gone silent, a bad sign. Even in pursuit, Agent Saitel had managed to activate more of the armor's systems, it would give her the edge she would need to make any difference.

The Maw warband screamed over the first line of trenches. Karissa had to weave and juke the speeder bike to avoid the growing streaks of blaster fire. She was gaining on the barge, wondering why it was still at full throttle as it passed the second defenses. Then she realized, it was simply going to crash into the first building in it's way. Some of the armed speeders broke off and began roaming the battlefield, picking off imperial troopers. Just as she predicted, the rig collided with a wall in a loud metallic groan, Mawites clambering off of it.

Karissa veered away. She was no soldier, and could do little to aid the troopers in the city. So she targeted the first LuchsHai speeder moving along the perimeter, bringing the wrist rockets back online. Lifting her arm, she waited for the lock and let loose a volley.

 

[Xuan Vo]

Location	Deep Space -> Outer Orbit
Enemies	New Imperial Order | Koda Fett , Ghorua the Shark
Allies	Brotherhood of the Maw
Equipment	Blaster Pistol
Ship	Jagged Maw
Supporting Ships	Several - Crucifix-II Handful - Ascendant mk-II Fighter Screen - TIE fd/H

"All pilots have been put on alert to disembark." One of the lower rank personnel said, snapping the admiral out of her reverie. She had been standing by the forward-facing viewport, staring off at the planet of Noris that they loomed above, when the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears. She turned away from the viewport to face the officer and nodded wordlessly. "We've also begun bombarding the Imperial's capital ships, they seemed to have been emboldened by the Orbital Cannon's destruction of the destroyer earlier but we possess superior numbers and they do not appear to be in a position advantageous to their efforts." He added. She glanced back, over her shoulder, and waved him off with her prosthetic limb. "Keep the pressure on them." She said before making her way back towards the command chair.

"Ma'am we're approaching a position parallel to the Grand Overseer's."

Sitting down, again, she nodded in understanding. "Disgorge fighters." She answered.

"There's a request from a damaged fighter with codes from Marlon Sularen to enter the hangar for repair, something about friendly fire." The communications officer rattled off while Xuan occupied herself with studying the holographic display of Noris and the remaining ships that battled above it. "Send the request to Sularen for verification and let them onboard once the hangar has been cleared out." She answered absent-mindedly. "Place a tractor beam on their ship once they're inside until they've been confirmed to be who they say they are by Sularen." She added.

 

[DECEASED Remmel Karsh]

5th post

FORTUNATE SONS

EMBER_ONE
117th Division

15th Company,"The Embers"

NIO: Cormac Thire Melvain Braxis Jorus Fel Erin E-141 Jack E-138
Hiran Avola Murraea Pharo Morrow Jalter Volff Mav Ryburn TK-8867 Frajan Borjar
Gavyn Berand Greven Astor Aerys Myrrine Kinoan Anith Dorce

Ascendancy/Enclave: Nuruodo'kal'brast

BOTM: Darth Solipsis The Mongrel Keilara Kala'myr Khamul Kryze
Erion Justeene Romund Sro Darth Kalyptos Subject 54 Havoc Electra-12
Kralmus Orr Darth Saevius Darth Ptolemis

Captain Karsh's Loadout
STORM Universal Combat Platform
CSR-50i Slugthrower Sniper Rifle
AP-25i 'SIMP' Particle Beam Blaster
X3 Flashbangs
X3 Frag Grenade
Beskar Bowie Knife
Entrenching Tool

A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 8

Objectives:

• Hold the Line
• Die Like a Hero
• Make Your Escape
• Aid the Wounded

FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)

'Overturned speeder, cover and track enemy progress until I pass - go!'

Karsh was in his element, operating in ways that his predecessor-captains could only dream of, even his deaf-mute mentor (from the earlier days of the 117th's already-storied timeline) was incapable of operating so effectively, both as a soldier and officer alike, but even Remmel knew it wasn't meant to last. They would need to turn and fight eventually, and of the two veterans, only the Lorrdian was hypervigilant enough to be constantly aware of this fact, though he would be gladdened to see that it still hadn't escaped the Krieger.

'Covering! They're using jetpacks, shit! Definitely Death's Hand then.... Readied, moving!'

​

The leading sprints to covering positions would switch between veterans, but as each manoeuvre completed, the heavy armour they were wearing at the time would serve to slow them over time, putting both Karsh and Greene at extreme risk of error or death, slowly but surely becoming the contradiction to the protection and room for error the latest Plastoid specs were known for facilitating for the most part. Good progress was being made though, and despite the increasing odds of death at the hands of blood-thirsty Mandalorians, not an error was there to be seen yet.

'Uprooted tree by the rubble on the right - move!'

Karsh's turn to make the leading sprint to a covering position, and his legs were burning painfully with encumbered exertion already, but with an extra shove forward from behind, and a growled,'Remmel! Don't be slackin' on us now, not here of all places! Move it!', the Captain would dig his treads into the ground beneath with a pained grunt and hurl himself forward with renewed intensity. Making it to the tree and practically launching his entire weight over the top and onto the other side, the Lorrdian would chuckle heartily, but until he heard what the Krieger had to say next, Brian wouldn't know that the timing of his laughter would appear misplaced at best. It had all been going so well for his hypervigilance until that moment, but as soon as one seemingly goofy act occurred, the hubristic facet to that moment would almost slap his mind into competence from within.

'Covering! And it's bad news, sadly! Our tails are pulling back, and not for safety reasons. Seems they're taking a little Sit-Rep back to their commander, and the only one of their lot with enough clout to keep them from killing us both outright would be - Kryze.... Readied, moving!'

Whatever awaited them next, it was sure to be much louder than it had been until then, but as for how long they left to enjoy the calm before the storm, neither Brian nor Remmel could say at that point. All they knew, in that eerie silence that seemingly enveloped them, was that running for all their worth was all they could do until the Disruptor trails started raining down all around them.

'Not marking positions this time, Brian.... We run, and we keep running until they start shooting! LETS GO!!!!'

A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 9

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FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)

The burning sensation in his legs had extended to the hips, bringing the Krieg-born Captain to the point of agony, but All-Heart kept pushing, and in the process he brought out a second-wind which aided his every step. Much to the relief of Karsh, (and much owed to his worry at the same time) Greene would offer exclamations, wordless though these outbursts were, that inadvertently offered a sort of pained solidarity as the veterans both ran their way northwards. Digging heels in, with the widest strides possible, holding their sling-attached rifles under the armpit segments of the bodysuits beneath the Plastoid pauldrons, and all to keep their heads tilted forward in the attempt to reach the walls of FOB: Belisarius; and for all their toil, it was working to an extent, but time had other plans for the two oldest servicemen in the 117th - plans that were just moments from being put into effect against them.

'Half-K left at the most, Remmel! Don't go letting up on me now, my old friend.'

THWACK-THWACK
THWACK-THWACK THWACK

THWACK THWACK​

'THIS IS IT, REMMEL!!!! LET'S MAKE OUR STAND HERE!!!!'

THWACK THWACK-THWACK THWACK​

Sliding into cover, both veterans would spring up from behind their chosen landmarks, letting Karsh be the one to shout,'FLASH OUT!!!!', before they both ducked back down again, unleashing two flashbangs and obscuring themselves from the Mandalorians' viewpoints before anything could be done to anticipate and adapt to the Imperials' opening hostile play. From there, the first proper salvo in reply was offered in short bursts of three, suppressing and hindering their foes for as long as they had means to frustrate the asymmetric engagement in their favour for as long as they could keep their assailants from encircling them completely. Karsh and Greene were doing well for all they could do against such daunting odds, especially after figuring out quickly that the foes they were putting down weren't staying down, and thus, the advanced Plastoid composite's advantages were completely negated by Beskar's many qualities in combat, made even more difficult as traits in the hands of Mawite Mandalorians.

THWACK THWACK

THWACK THWACK THWACK-THWACK​

'Tip from the Krieg-Mandos I grew up with! Throats, armpits, backs of the knees - everywhere else is pointless unless you actually wish to soften them up a bit first!'

THWACK THWACK-THWACK​

Hellishness was all that their position would amount to, especially if no reinforcements or assistance of any sorts arrived, but despite the fact they were in a rather hopeless situation, the veterans were holding their ground admirably. Nothing would stop them for as long as there was room left to suppress the movements of their adversaries, made increasingly difficult by Mandalorians' jetpack advantage as time passed, but still easy enough for Karsh and Greene alike to endeavour for as long as their ammunition and focus held out against the odds.

'FRAG OUT!!!!'

BOOOOOOM!!!!​

'WE NEED TIME TO RELOAD!!!! POPPING SMOKE!!!!'

<"All units southwest of FOB: Belisarius, this is Karsh! R-T-B!!!! I REPEAT, R-T-B!!!! TIME TO START FIGHTING YOUR WAY BACK!!!! Ember One out!">​

With disruptor trails still raining down around them, Remmel and Brian continued to duck and dodge whatever they could, but the Plastoid armour was already beginning to suffer under the heat of repeated trail-burn residues; despite this, return-fire was still viable as a means of suppression, though the veterans had to expend their supply of frag-grenades and their accompanying incendiaries, and almost purely to keep that distance maintained between themselves and the Mawites besetting them from three different frontal vantage-points at the time. For those trying to outflank the Captain and his dutiful Commander, Karsh and Greene could do nothing but unleash slug and burning-trail alike at armour of which they knew could handle the punishment, made all the more obvious and disheartening by the repeated bell-like ringing of slug on Beskar contact.

'This might be it, Brian! If so, it was an honour having you here with me.... an honour to share my final moments - WITH THE GREATEST LORRDIAN WHO EVER LIVED!!!!'

Whilst most were standing back up, Karsh and Greene's well-placed shots would eventually cut through something easier than metal, placing perfect shots on around one out of every twelve Mandalorians who tried to get up close, but it wasn't enough, and the veterans knew it wouldn't be long before they were completely encircled. The beleaguered duo knew they were in trouble, but they continued to offer their own aggressions to the enemy and their own encouragements to each other, holding off against the unassailable with every last ounce of their strength, endurance and willpower. If they could hold off against Khamul's best and brightest for a little longer, then their tenacity would pay dividends and breathing space aplenty, as it would be likely by then that either their expected reinforcements would arrive to turn the tide, or the more likely outcome - that the Mandalorians' commander would call out the strongest of the two for a duel.

'COME ONE, COME ALL - A DOUBLE-TAP AWAITS YOU ALL!!!!.... BRIIIIIIING IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!'

 

[Gwyneira Vizsla]

Objective: Protect the space port, the Chiss, and the NIO.
Location: Noris Spaceport.
Enemies: the Maw and anyone associated with them.
Allies: The NIO, the Chiss, and fellow bounty hunters.
Tags: Kyrel Ren

Equipment:
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Spoiler

• Beskar'gam
• Cybernetic Leg
• The Distant Chill
• Igradi Small Repeating Blaster sling slung over shoulder, resting at the hip.
• Ra'ntisr Blaster Pistol on left over the shoulder holster.
• Borealis Blaster Pistol on right over the shoulder holster.
• 2xs M.I. 6 Blaster Pistols on hip holsters. One in use.
• The Twins, smaller blaster pistols stored and concealed in cybernetic leg.
• 12xs Magnetic Thermal Detonators, wrapped around waistline.
• Mainhand Lightsaber on hip belt.
• Shoto Lightsaber on hip belt.

​

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Yes! She got a hit in, found a weakness! She was about ready to fire again, but before she could further more she felt the Force call to her in warning. Her heads up display in her helmet also raised alarms. She turned to see an army of lackey soldiers marching to end her. Gwyn gritted her teeth beneath her visor, placing her pistol back in its holster.

She had an idea though. She slid into position, keeping her cool. Then, using both her jetpack and flight boots, she jumped into the air and remained inches above the ground. The plasma shield vanished and an orange flicker glowed in her vambrace. Using the flight boots, she turned in a complete circle as her flamethrower rained fire unto the new attackers. As the flames engulfed the enemies, she extended her other hand. Using the Force, she fed the flames and allowed them to grow a hotter and higher threat to the enemies. Pyrokenesis. The enemies burnt in their shield, falling to the ground in immobility. Gwyneira stopped the jets of her beskar'gam and fell to the ground; using the Force to safely land on her feet.

As the fires died down around her, Gwyneira looked to her primary target again. She took a step forward, pulling her pistol out again. She had landed several feet away from him, and she realized she needed to close the distance. Thus far, ranged attacks only fueled the rage she felt through the Force. She bolted forward, dashing to her opponent as she extended her arm and fired an explosive at him. She expected him to dodge such a blossoming and destructive device. If he did, she would immediately fire another sonic round from her blaster towards his feet.

Whether or not it worked, she was now in melee range. Still not willing to go to her lightsabers so easily, however, she instead put her pistol away and aimed a punch towards her adversary's stomach. On the other arm, she activated her combat vambrace's plasma shield again to block any blows made with his lightsaber.

 

[Skorge the Bloodied]

BOW DOWN​

Blaster fire screamed overhead in a thousand directions, pandemonium, chaos unfurled. This was the MAW’s happy place, this was the true expression of war, may the Avatars be praised. Several of the throat-singing black armored knights, the MAW HOLY CRUSADERS, were struck as bolts bounced off their armor. Fragments of black plastoid scattered from battered husks, the full brunt of the plasma bolts striking others unlucky enough to not bounce back. The soil and debris tossed into the air freely as gravel and mud rushed up to kiss it, Skorge roared like a demon over the battlefield as his crusaders followed.

They would secure the weapon, or die trying.

Skorge slammed his war axe into a nearby imperial, the scorching edge carved clean through the white armor plating like butter as he effortlessly pressed onward leading the charge. He and his men all adorned their helms, the ceremonial symbol of the crusaders in their skull masques.

He rushed forward, deep breathing under his helm until catching the visage of one in his advance. The zealot charged blindly in fanatical fury, a bloodthirsty gambit to close the gap quickly and get close. Get personal.


Redmond Geller

 

[FN-999]

N I N E S

ALLIES: NIO | In relative proximity of Melvain Braxis
ENEMIES: MAW | Indirectly engaging Rannan Kol | Open to engagement
UNIT: The Ninety-Nine

The meaning of the quote "war is hell" resounded within FN-999.
​

For all of his thirty-two years of life, his eyes and helmet had been an unbeatable team. He had never once doubted what was in front of him, his confidence in his keen eye saving him from the tricks of numerous snipers and assassins. Even in the two largest battles of his life, Dosunn and Bastion, FN-999 had moved with a clear sense of direction. At Dosunn, a futile last stand had turned into an utter rout the moment an alien's blade pierced the skull of his CO. Still, he had held his squad together with all his remaining willpower, weaving erratically through ruined buildings to elude their pursuers and personally piloting an abandoned troop transport off-world. At Bastion, the 19th Assault Company had formed a spearhead smashing through two kilometers of Sith defenses, only stopping to breach the central palace complex.

For the first time in all his thirty-two years of life, he could no longer trust his eyes.

Of course, FN-999 had been subjected to flashbangs and smoke grenades before, as well as various hallucinogens and poisons. However, the advanced respiratory filters and HUDs within his helmet had always backed him up when his unfiltered eyes failed, giving him a lens into all but the most unstable of environments. He had even been subjected to mental influences from Force powers, primarily those that altered morale or hid individuals from view. Yet the power of impersonation more effective than that of any ISB agent, illusions so powerful that they were indistinguishable from reality, was an entirely new concept to FN-999. Tactically, its implications were terrifying. If it truly could be employed on a large scale, then entire legions could be torn asunder as regiment is turned against regiment, each believing the other to be the image of an unforgivable foe.

He would have to warn the ISB and Imperial Knights as soon as the battle concluded.

"Nines?"

The lieutenant legion commander's mind went completely still. He no longer had the luxury of hesistaion.

FN-999 pulled the trigger, sending two bullets through the impostor's skull - one to kill it and one to make sure it never got back up.

"Nines?"

He pulled the trigger again.

"Nines, what's going on?"

"Nines, is that-"

Again. Again.

"Nines?"

"Nines, what did-?"

"I swear, we're real!"

"The impostors are gone! We should let the others know!"

At some point, FN-999 had stopped moving backwards. His entire world was the thin strip of no-man's land where the first trench once was. His only conscious action was aiming his rifle and pulling the trigger, again and again and again. He fired until he had completely emptied his magazines, attempting to fire afterwards only to realize nothing was exiting his rifle. He drew his pistols and aimed at no-man's land, but saw no further impostors or Maw elites. All that lay in front of him were dead bodies and the vast, receding dust cloud.

Noting the brief lull in combat, FN-999 cautiously approached the nearest corpse, both pistols drawn and aimed. To his surprise, the impostor's blood appeared to be red just as a normal human's would. Furthermore, the impostor's stormtrooper helmet was incredibly realistic, spiderwebbing cracks and splinters surrounding the area the armor-piercing bullet had penetrated. The barrel of his right pistol scraped the steel of the helmet as he leaned down to observe.

The lieutenant legion commander went stock-still.

Why would his pistol have scraped over the helmet if the armor was an illusion? Hesitantly, his heartbeat rapidly accelerating, he lifted the helmet off the being's face. Then, he reached down with a gloved hand and touched the lifeless body.

A body coated in soft, pale, real human skin, still warm to the touch.

FN-999 had just shot dead sixteen of his own troops.

 

[The Messenger]

Æthelrath the Vengeful
Vicar to the Avatar of War
Heathen Priest​

C U L T​

The Vicar of War hobbled forward on his cane as the hoversled glided over the corpses of both sides, his masqued gaze foully admiring the carnage unfurled. To his left, right, and rear marched the Palatine Guard ready and willing to plunge into the heart of the enemy at a moment’s notice. The hum of the sled’s repulsorlift drowned out the loud drumming of the marauders in their wake clamoring against another, shields battering in the battle scorched winds as explosions wracked the sky.

​

In the midst of their number, another massive sled came forth shielded and protected by many. A weapon not borne or raised since the First Battle of Nirauan, one that had been modified after learning from the mistakes of the past.

“Bring the weapon into the heart of the impact zone. The sonic blast will reave the ranks and restore the rule of the Avatars upon this corrupted plane.”

​

 

[Gavyn Berand]

Private Gavyn Berand
New Imperial Order
117th Stormtrooper Division
29th Company
South of FOB Belisarius, Noris
Allies: NIO | DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Murraea Pharo | Jorus Fel | Morrow | Jalter Volff | Mav Ryburn | Kinoan | TK-8867 | Anith Dorce | Frajan Borjar | Greven Astor | Aerys Myrrine | Others
Enemies: Maw | The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Subject 54 Havoc | Erion Justeene | Romund Sro | Darth Kalyptos | Darth Ptolemis | Khamul Kryze | Electra-12 | Darth Saevius | Others
Engaging: Mawites, open to opposition​

Reluctantly the trooper hauled himself up from where he lay on his back. He couldn't help but grimace as a shudder ran through him. Gavyn had been sore before; the labor required back on Garqi during harvest made sure of that. He'd never felt quite like this. A dull pain throbbed throughout his whole body. It wasn't going to kill him, as best as he could figure. It likely would have, had he not been wearing this armor. On hands and knees he scrambled over to the fallen stormtrooper from whom he had retrieved the disruptor rifle. He patted the trooper's back gently, and a flurry of different emotions flooded him. "Thanks, trooper," he said softly. He swallowed hard, choking back the pain and sadness. Now was not the time. He still had a job to do, people who depended on him. "We'll take it from here." Gavyn retrieved a set of identification tags from his fallen comrade, putting them in an empty pouch on his belt. Their sacrifice would be remembered and honored, by Gavyn if by no one else.

Gavyn crawled back to Maro; the man was mostly still, back against the carcass of a fallen walker where Gavyn had put him. His head turned here and there as he looked around at the devastation that threatened to consume not just them, it seemed, but the galaxy itself. He turned to look at Gavyn as the latter approached, head shaking in disbelief. "You're completely insane."

Gavyn merely shrugged in response. He gave a sheepish smile that would have been apparent even through the unchanging expression of his albaster white helmet. "Come on, we gotta keep fallin' back." He hefted Maro onto his shoulders once more, and once more they began their mad dash back to the reserve trench.

A few gut-wrenching moments later the two found themselves leaping into the trench, greeted by the welcoming site of the stormtroopers of the 29th company. He placed Maro down in the trench, leaving him in the care of a combat medic. Gavyn grasped the wounded man's hand, holding onto it tightly. "You're in good hands now, Maro. Take care of yourself, yeah?" His compatriot nodded. "Thank you," he managed to respond, squeezing Gavyn's hand in turn. They held there for what felt like longer than the few seconds that it really was, and then they parted ways. Gavyn stood and returned to a fighting position; Maro was carried away to a safer place for the medic to work.

Comms were spotty at best at this point, but one message did make its way through to the helmet radios of the 29th that gave the whole company a lift: friendlies were coming to assist. Elements of the 313th were on their way to help the units of the 117th holding the line south of FOB Belisarius.

Whether it would be enough, they had no idea. At the very least, they hadn't been forgotten. They weren't alone.

 

[Cormac Thire]

T H I R E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
117th STORMTROOPER DIVISION
38th SAPPER COMPANY
NIO | Jorus Fel | Baxter Weyland | Gwyneira Vizsla | OPEN
MAW | Rannan Kol | Skorge the Bloodied | Kyrel Ren | Ignatius Rausgeber

THE PRIMUS MILE
NORIS '75

THE WINTER CONTINGENCY
DEFIANT 'TILL THE END​

What began as iron rain soon turned to bloody combat. The brutal barges continued their dreaded course toward the troopers manning the lines. They were already braving hell when the marauders brought down the hammer over them. It would've been easy for Thire, to simply stand his ground here and die like a man. Like the trooper he was born and bred to be. But life was never so simple. He wasn't infantry like a vast majority of the Stormtrooper Corps who only ever had to worry about taking and holding vital objectives, putting rounds down range toward the enemy. He was a sapper, combat engineer. His job was to build, fight, dismantle, disarm, render safe, defuse...anything that cleared the path for the former.

He fired a burst in the direction of the enemy one last time before the tac pad on his wrist came alight with a glaring beacon. The MOAB, the bomb that was the aim of Thire's team of sappers had been deployed on the field of battle.

He had to move, but under the assault of the Maw Auxiliary, they were hardly in a position to sprout wings and get out of this mess. He'd need to pull the most he could without completely sacrificing this stretch of trench.

Thire clamored through the mud, corpes and rubble to his second in command NCO, his head uncovered from the characteristic Stormtrooper helmet and looking through the sights of his rifle with a nigh deranged fury before he peered in the direction of the approaching Cormac and ducked behind cover. Blood streamed down the man's face, hardly from any truly grievious injury but from the micro shards of glasteel from the blast impact caught by his helmet during the artillery salvo moments before. It was a common injury among the corps when their helmet gave but underneath they were otherwise unharmed save for hundreds of micro shards of glasteel breaking into their skin and causing multiple lacerations. Nothing lethal, but certainly annoying.

"Sarnt. We got...I don't know how many left up here but that MOAB is too damn close to the objective for comfort- we need a-"

<"Just what I was coming to talk to you about- I'll handle it. I'm taking two of ours and booking it that way."> Thire responded without any reluctance in his voice. As bad as the situation was here, his counterpart knew the MOAB was going to be a hell of a lot worse and hardly regarded his NCO's actions as an abandonment of duty to the men here.

"Trackin'...good luck, Sarge." The Sapper throwing a new power pack into his rifle before coming up to the wall of the trench once more.

"And hey, Thire..." Thire turned back around in the direction of the trooper.

"It's lookin' more and more like this is a one way trip. Give 'em hell. Defiant 'till the end, brother!" He piped up with a raised fist before slamming it against the muddy white betaplast chest plate.

<"Defiant 'till the end! You two, we're moving!"> Thire said.

Then began the run.

Broken ground pocked mark with artillery shells, deep, slick and abrasive mud. Piles of the dead stacked high.

Didn't matter.

The three troopers made their way across the field of battle with the objective in their sights with no regard for the hellish danger around them.

They had a job to do.

Three.

Another two troopers somewhere along the line recognized the pauldron of the sergeant, split from their broken and shattered unit. They looked in his direction and with a glance back and wave of the arm forward, Thire piped up at them that harrowing command of the infantry.

<"FOLLOW ME!">
​

Any Stormtrooper worth their salt knew the words, the command, the sentiment behind it. It was their motto to be made and broken by. Without a salute, without a word of protest, they took hold of blasters and matched his pace.

Five.

Each footfall was taxing on the flesh and bone. Pulling the heavy boots through mud and blood with full kit and an unwavering pace. It was tiring, exhausting. He wanted nothing more than to drop his knees and give up.

He couldn't.

The work had to be done.

Two more troopers were caught out on their own stuck behind burnt out speeders.

<"Up! Up! On me!"> He barked to the two of them, pulling his hand off the pistol grip of his rifle to motion them to their feet with a ferverent wave of his arm before continuing on his pace.

One of the troopers collapsed, throwing off his helmet into a pool of vomit as the exertion got to him.

Couldn't turn back.

Had a job to do.

Six.

The sight of the planetary defense tower loomed closer and closer before soon enough the Maw presence grew thicker and thicker as they made a dash to disable the gun.

With little more than a squad of troopers at his back and the MOAB well in sight, they halted their sprint, something which amounted up to over two miles of a nigh dead sprint before they set their focus on contact with the enemy again.

He just needed to be on the damn bomb, once he was, he could work his magic, defuse it and most importantly.

Send it back.

 

[Marcad]

C R E S T F A L L E N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
NORIS
NIO
MAW | Darth Mori

Death? What was worse than death? It was an absolute for all, even those with sorcery and dark magic to escape from its grasp. There were things much worse than death, in his own experience. Such as the time when the Sith occupied Mirial, or when the Jedi came to liberate it from their mortal enemy; only to have the undead summoned and the Jedi indiscriminately massacring most with a wall of light. Those moments showed that death was much more merciful and quick than to suffer tragic experiences as that.

How pompous of the Sith to herald him to his death, as if he would show any signs of fear or hesitation in his approach towards her. Any fear was repressed by his desire for revenge, for his wants to slaughter those whom abide by the Sith Code. Death perhaps was certain for him today, though he did not yearn for it; didn’t mean he was not afraid of it.

His eyes glowed brighter and brighter, his hatred and anger giving Cewr a surplus of power. The corruption of emotions was empowering to any practitioner of the Dark Side. It would be an even fight, or so he thought. He was more unhinged, more rabid than the Darth. Useful, but dangerous when taken to the extremes. A fury of waves came from her lightsaber, attacking from every angle with violence. The form of Juyo, typical for those of the Sith. He, too, shared this violent nature with his lightsaber; however, it was in the form Djem So.

They were much alike in certain aspects, but with great difference

His own lightsaber came up above his head before striking down with great strength at the black fog, taking the first strike in combat with Mori. He would take great measures to command the flow of the duel, to control it and have her keep up with his own pace.

 

[The Messenger]

Æthelrath the Vengeful
Vicar to the Avatar of War
Heathen Priest​

C U L T​

He could sense it, the destiny the Avatars laid out for he and his flock. Even as the ferocious warlords and their zealous ilk continued to hammer away at the New Imperial defensive lines, he could not help but believe this was the moment he’d awaited. The glory of which only the Avatar of War could bestow, the sensation of destiny the feeling of fulfillment as untold lives would be snuffed out with the detonation of the bomb. The ultimate sacrifice to assure his own ascension, Rebirth awaited him he could feel it.

“Faster!” He cried out to the whipped and tested, the laborers who steered the instrument of fate.

They met heavy resistance, the New Imperial lines tearing into their own ranks as they funneled closer and closer to their objective. The Heathen Priest cackled aloud, drinking in the carnage like the monster that he was. Bolts bounced off his shield bubble like hail, his hands reached out into the expanse, speakers blaring the prophetic message of the MAW as all began to hinge on this glorious moment.

The Palatine Guard were less ‘distracted’ by megalomaniac delusions, their eyes honed in on the nearest threat and moved to engage, crimson sabers springing to life as the Darksiders advanced to meet their opposition.

Cormac Thire​

 

[Marlon Sularen]

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F A T E_O F_T H E_C H I S S
The Eleventh Hour - Winter Contigency

FINAL DAWN
NORIS, CHISS SPACE

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TASK FORCE MOMIN ​
Fleet Composition FDS Immortal [Flagship] Supremacy Mark-I Star Destroyers [24/24] Tyrant-Class Star Destroyers [12/14] Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyers [14/16]
Starfighter Compliment TIE/fd Fighters | 191 Squadrons | 2,040/2,292 TIE/fd Interceptors | 143 Squadrons | 904/1,144 Chariot-II Missile Boats | 96 Squadrons | 722/768 FD-120 Starfortress Bombers | 48 Squadrons | 372/384 Have not been deployed yet

Sularen watched as another shot from the Orbital Cannon struck one of Supremacy Mark-I Star Destroyers knocking out it's shielding. In the wake of the reactivation of the Orbital Cannon, what was left of the New Imperial Fleet had intensified their attack against Task Force Momin, emboldened by this new development. Nevertheless, even with the Orbital Cannon at their disposal , Task Force Momin stood its ground and pressed its own attack against the New Imperials now supported by Xuan Vo's Fleet, allowing the Final Dawn to still inflict heavy damage upon the New Imperial Fleet whose numbers were starting to dwindle quite rapidly thanks to the sheer size of Sularen's Fleet, the Immortal itself and Xuan Vo's Fleet.

"Grand Overseer, we have word from the surface that a MOAB has been deployed and is being hauled towards the New Imperial defensive positions." an Officer said. "Do we have confirmation of what's the target?" Sularen said in response as he proceeded to stroke his beard. "It seems that the target is the Spaceport of Primus and the Orbital Cannon." the officer replied. "Good. Deploy a few Squadrons of TIEs to the surface. See what kind of support we can give to our fellow Mawites down there" Sularen ordered. "Yes, Grand Overseer." the officer replied. Soon half a dozen squadrons of TIE Fighters has split off from the Battle and we're now headed towards the Spaceport of Primus ready to provide whatever support would be needed to ensure the safe delivery of the MOAB. They we're so close to victory, Sularen could feel it. Once the MOAB would be detonated and the New Imperial Fleet dealt with, he would be free to execute a full base delta zero on Noris to end the New Imperial Order's resistance once and for all.

"Uhh, Grand Overseer? Admiral Vo has reported that she has received a request from a damaged fighter to enter the hangar of the Jagged Maw to conduct repairs. The Pilot has identified himself as Koda Fett and has stated that he has been contracted by you under a Hand of Judgement?" another Officer said with confusion unaware of what this Hand of Judgement was. Sularen was quite surprised about this development. Indeed he had recruited Koda Fett for the Hand of Judgement as a contractor, but the Grand Overseer had not activated the Organization proper as it was still in the final stages of it's development. Not to mention that his own spies within the Politorate had already reported that the New Imperials had contracted mercenaries to aid them here at Noris against the Maw via Aurodium Sword, which included Koda Fett himself. The Grand Overseer knew this was a ruse but why would Koda Fett seek to board one of the Final Dawn's ships. From what he knew, the mercenaries contracted by the New Imperials we're there to assist in the evacuation of Noris and the defense of the Primus Spaceport and attempting to sabotage a ship full of stormtroopers was suicidal considering the amount of personnel each Star Destroyer had. What was Fett's plan?

"Inform Admiral Vo that she is to redirect Fett to the FDS Immortal. Our hangars should have enough space for his fighter, whatever it may be." Sularen began. "Then deploy a full Platoon of Sith Troopers to the whatever hangar Fett choses to land in and bring him to my office. I'd like to have a little chat with the Bounty Hunter." Sularen ordered. Whatever Fett had planned, Sularen would make sure it would not compromise his own plans here at Noris. He may have been hired by the New Imperials, but like every bounty hunter he was only interested in credits. If the Grand Overseer could offer more then the 10,000 UCs offered by the New Imperials, then he was certain that he could deal with Fett. In case that didn't work the Grand Overseer had a few other surprises in store for the Bounty Hunter...

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Tags | Xuan Vo | Koda Fett | Ghorua the Shark ​

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[Ranna Sejast]

​

Location: Primus Spaceport, Orbital Cannon Emplacement
Objectives: Escort evacuation ships
Allies: NIO
Enemies: Maw Bros Marlon Sularen
Equipment: Flight Suit Blast Vest Med Pack Blaster Pistols

The convoy breached through the upper layer of clouds and out of the upper atmosphere to unveil another tableau of death every bit as terrible as the one they'd just left behind. Seeing how battered the Imperial forces now were, how few remained, Prulesa bit back a curse. "Transports, I'd recommend adjusting onto heading two-two-five, skirt around the rear of the Imperial formation" A full minute later the lead transport commed back with their reply. "That was the plan Tangent, you just focus on escorting." The line went dead without waiting for her reply. "Condescending jerks," she said to no one in particular. She hoped they knew what they were doing, this may have been her first fight on this scale, but they were likely civilian pilots, this could be their first fight.

Her computer blipped at her as new contacts appeared from the swarm of ships ahead, TIEs, lots of them, but not angling towards her. Nervously she checked her jamming, hopefully they were interested in something much more important than a few refugees. If they realized it was basically just the four ships, that may be too tempting an opportunity for them. With the radar fuzz hopefully they wouldn't.