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

[Melvain Braxis]

Enemiy Engaging - Rannan Kol
Ally - FN-999

Last Dance

The wind carried the smell of death and the Force carried urgency as an overwhelming sense of fear washed over the men. Ondarr couldn't focus on them though. Stormtroopers were lives given for the good of the Empire and they had all known the cost when they signed up. If their minds were weak enough to fall to the mere whisper of the Dark Side then maybe it was better that the 117th was sacrificed for the good of the Empire. Deadweight only made the burden of His Iron Will heavier to bear.

Ondarr noted the lightsabers the Dark Jedi was using. Were those shoto? No, they were far too long. This was something in between, something he would have to take care to remember when fighting the man. He was already at a disadvantage fighting a duel wielder with his single blade, but maybe he could use the distance to his advantage. Despite initiating the attack, Ondarr was quickly pushed into defense. Falling into his comfort zone, Ondarr used a Fast Makashi to batter the blades away from himself. He misjudged the reach of the man's lightsabers a few times but luckily was able to glance the blows off of his armor. Disarm or destroy. That was his objective. Parrying one of his blades he moved in to the man's attack, taking a blow across his shoulder plate. Stepping cleanly into Djem So Heavy he brought lightsaber down across the man's chest.

​

Dread filled Melvain. He could feel the desperation across the planet. Back at the starport a few of the shuttles had already gotten off the ground. They would be wrapping up here soon. Looking back on the battlefield he couldn't even pick out Ondarr anymore. He had to get to his men. Ondarr could handle himself, it was clear he wanted to when he abandoned the fight to take the duel. Was this any different?

"Prepare to launch," He called out to one of the droids he kept on board. Before the ramp was fully up the Rhyshadium was already aloft and rumbling out of the hangar. Settling into the cockpit seat he took the controls from the droid who passed them on without complaint.

"I'm coming for you old friend."

 

[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 | 1,900/2,292 TIE/fd Interceptors | 143 Squadrons | 778/1,144 Chariot-II Missile Boats | 96 Squadrons | 688/768 FD-120 Starfortress Bombers | 48 Squadrons | 372/384 Have not been deployed yet

"Grand Overseer, we have a new development" An officer said, snapping Sularen out of his thoughts. He was buried deep in thought, largely distracted by the sudden appearance of Koda Fett and his mention of the Hand of Judgement, a hidden card Sularen had worked on tirelessly since the Battle of Adrathorpe and had not intended to reveal until atleast the beginning of the Maw's Push towards the Core Worlds. "What kind of development are we talking about here?" Sularen asked in response, already bothered by Fett's appearance. "We've detected a convoy of ships coming from the surface comprised of Transports and an armed escort. Orders?" the officer said. Sularen leaned forward stroking his beard once more, thinking for a few seconds before he gave a response.

"Divert Two Wings of TIEs to intercept these transports along with some of our Pocket Star Destroyers. Nothing gets out of Noris. Nothing." Sularen ordered. He was determined to deal a deathblow upon the New Imperials here at Noris and would not let a single soul escape his grasp whether they were Military Personnel or simply civilians attempting to escape the carnage. As soon as his orders were relayed over a dozen squadrons of TIE/fd Fighters and Interceptors began converging on the Convoy followed by a Trio of Ascendant Mark-II Pocket Star Destroyers breaking formation to block their escape route. Sularen would ensure that this Convoy would be shredded to pieces one way or another. For this was his battle and he controlled the outcome.

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Tags | Ranna Sejast ​

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[Rannan Kol]

Location: No Mans Land
Allies: MAW
Enemies: NIO | Melvain Braxis | FN-999
Equipment: Apostles Vestments; The Dark Sacraments​

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At this point almost the entirety of Kol's focus was on Knight Commander Ondarr. The shots heralding the execution of troopers from the 'Ninety-Nine' by FN-999 registered somewhere in the background but engaging an opponent the likes of the Knight Commander ensured that Kol's focus remained on him. The Stormtroopers of the Imperial Order would have their own battles to keep them busy too.

Against Ondarr the Dark Apostle often used his blades in tandem, making fluent and arcing blows in an attempt to come at the Knight Commander at angles he might not expect however throughout it all it might have also felt like a feeling out process. Kol would never commit to a heavy blow until he felt certain it would land. All those glancing shots were just a process of learning the distance between them, the range and probing Ondarr's defenses. There was no doubt he was skilled in Makashi.

When Ondarr transitioned into Djem So after parrying one of Kol's attack the Dark Apostle, sensing his moment sprung at him. He'd side step to his right, into Ondarr's reach and underneath the heavy blow made for his chest offsetting himself to the left of the Knight Commander. Instead of landing cleanly Kol would take it off his left shoulder and the outside of his arm which sparked wildly on contact as the 'Apostles Vestments' flared to life. The Vestments, imbued with the force may have appeared as light silk but were as fully capable as any heavy armor. The Blow wouldn't penetrate them but would leave bruising underneath, almost akin to a club.

As for Kol, grunting as the blow from Ondarr made contact with his shoulder he'd have fanned his inverted lightsaber forward at the waistline of Ondarr hoping to find a soft spot in his armor while he continued his forward momentum to take himself past the Knight Commanders left. In a display of some acrobatics Kol would launch himself off his backfoot too, twisting in the air in an attempt to swing himself around while bringing the other 'Dark Sacrament' down in a flashing arc that he wanted to land on the back of Ondarr's shoulderblade....

What more could be said about the Ninety-Nines too? How many of them still lived? What would the survivors, having seen FN-999 execute their compatriots do? How would they react? Kol had sowed the seeds of dissent but his true victory would be in breaking the units morale. Knowing they would all die would any of them stay and fight or would they retreat? They may have even seen the Knight Commander cut down some of their fellows prior to his present engagement. How prepared were they to defend men that didn't value their lives?​

 

[DECEASED Remmel Karsh]

6th 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 10

Objectives:

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

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

'I think I got another K-C in the bag, Remmel!'

Like fanged monsters in the wild, like demons from the very depths that threatened to swallow their souls with every passing second, the old veterans were still proving themselves a credit to the Empire, and whether this was fated to be the last staunch-Imperials' empire or not, mattered little to the already-doomed Krieger and Lorrdian in these moments. For these future thoughts would always matter little and less to men like these, remaining firmly at the backs of their minds as they toiled and laboured like nothing else in the universe mattered but the good fight itself.

'For what it's worth, I'm happy with that! Even if it amounts to nought in the end!'

As well as both warriors were acquitting themselves under severe duress, Karsh was correct, as Kryze had every intention of seeing them both dead by then. Their rank-bars were prominent enough that neither could escape identification by the scanning tech these Death's Hand warriors had at their disposal, prominent enough that neither the Captain nor the Commander would be permitted to survive the encounter, especially if their deaths meant severe damage to Imperial cohesion as a result.

'Popping smoke!.... Reloadiiiing! Shit! LAST POWER-CARTRIDGE!!!!'

Bad news, but the worst was yet to follow, as one of the Mandalorians had been playing dead until the right moment, waiting for the smoke to clear so he could get a clean shot on the Lorrdian, watching Greene throughout the process as he groaned in agony on the ground just ten metres away. Then, like clockwork, as the last wisps faded to nothingness between them, the wounded Death's Hand acolyte rose from the ground to throw his tomahawk at his target, hurling the axe with every last ounce of strength as he shrieked in an agony that would've shocked even the hardest of hearts in such moments. However, this isn't what shook the Krieger to his very core, it was the crunching impact of the tomahawk as it cut through Plastoid, flesh and bone with ease, dashing all of the Captain's hopes in an instant as his friend was killed before his very eyes, dead before All-Heart could even console or hear his last words.

'Brian.... Is this how it ends? Really? SO BE IT!!!!'

Kneeling to take the helmet off, Karsh would pry the tomahawk from his friend's skull then lazily slip the axe itself onto the right side of his hip as he sullenly closed his comrade's eyelids, offering a silent, solemn prayer for the Lorrdian as the disruptor rounds flew with deathly intent around them. And in the background, heard clearly between the intervals, were the groans and the laughter of the one responsible for the lucky shot, cackling like a soulless spectre in the night until there was nothing but the gunshots and disruptors breaking the serenity, presumed then by all to have cackled himself to death. The only two matters in his predicament that All-Heart could draw solace from were the quick, painless death of his closest friend, and the fact his killer died in crippling agony, though no joy could be derived from it - no matter how hard the Captain tried to draw courage from the situation.

'I need to leave you now, Brian. You fought like Imperials ought to fight, so I'll answer this Mawite insult in kind.... Rest in peace, my old friend. I'll be seeing you somewhere in the Nether anyway, of this I have no doubt!'

A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 11

​

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

'So which one of you bastards wishes to die with me tonight? Who wishes to suffer the edge of my knife?'

On his own, and with nowhere to turn but the corner he intended to fight his way out from, All-Heart knew he was past the point of no return. But he cared not, there was nothing else for it but to go out like the Thane he always was, and Remmel knew it, and had known it since the fall of the Nachtlandir. Borrowed time, an inevitable that had been delayed from the moment he swore fealty to the Vorhut Despotate, going through motions of which Karsh was sure would meet their natural conclusion long before the ill-fated deployment to Nirauan.

'Well? Come on, surely one of you wishes to kiss razor-sharp Beskar before the end. We can share the same carriage to the Nether if you want, I don't mind! IT'LL BE GRAND, I PROMISE!!!!'

Second last mag, though much to the Krieg-born Captain's relief, he had retreated into a spot that never required smoke-grenades to obscure his movements and attempts to reload, giving the old man all the leeway he required to stay in the fight for as long as possible. Remmel's position also created a bottleneck funnel out of the debris, overturned vehicles and the like, though Karsh was loathe to remain vigilant of it's flaws, as the jetpacks and heightened coherence would present challenges aplenty for All-Heart as his last stand continued. Unleashing shot after shot on each brave foe who coordinated their own efforts against him, the Captain would find more warriors standing up to try again every time; even if he found more staying down each time, it wouldn't be long before Khamul's subordinates were within striking distance, clashing helm to helm in a fashion that suited the old Thane's last wishes.

This was the way he wished to go out, this was everything to a man who never truly shook his beliefs, and to go out bravely like this, Karsh knew he would be welcomed with opens in the afterlife he was destined for. The eleventh hour was well and truly upon him, but instead giving in to a teary-eyed indignance for his last minutes as a living man, All-Heart would find himself giving in to the joy, the wrath, and lastly, the wheezing hilarity he felt after perceiving the headache he was causing his foes at the time.

'I HAVEN'T GOT ALL NIGHT, YOU LAZY BASTARDS!!!! WHERE'S YOUR KILLER INSTINCT?!?!'

Last mag, last smoke grenade, last frag.

And there wasn't a single comrade nearby who could advise Remmel to at least make one last attempt to reach the walls of FOB: Belisarius, not a single voice of reason to have him find at least one of the sites the Embers won back from the Crimson Hands, nothing to keep Karsh from going all out for his last minutes of corporeal life. Life of an eternal nature seemed all the more enticing, life as a spiritual force of nature in an ethereal realm that hadn't known his ilk for over thirty long, quiet years, it was too beautiful a concept for the Captain to resist by then; the thought of escaping the horrors, the pains and anguishes of the life he'd endured until then, it all felt so easy to detach himself from it, erring away from the harsh, vile realities of his mortal coil - and for something that felt vastly more enthralling to All-Heart in almost every way imaginable.

The old man was ready.

This is it, this is really it.... It's actually happening, ol' boy.​

'IT IS HIGH TIME AN OLD MAN DIES ON HIS FEET, MANDOS!!!! OBLIGE ME THAT IF YOU CAN - OBLIGE A VETERAN'S LAST REQUEST!!!!'

 

[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

Prulesa watched the flight of TIE's for awhile as the Imperial ships grew ever closer. They never so much as twitched in her direction and she nodded, picking up her visual scanning again. Then she saw it. Reaching out, she flicked the comm connection back to live. "Transports if you have anything left in those engines give it now!" Again the lead freighter was annoyed and about to let her know it, "We have a formation and a-" "No!" She cut him off, "Full power now all ships! Head right for the Imperial formation!"

Hand on the throttle ready to slam it forward, she hesitated. Even as the two trailing ships powered past the lead, he didn't speed up that much, he'd been setting the pace and even now he was yelling obscenities at the others and her. "We can outrun those destroyers, not those fighters. Our ONLY hope with them is to get into that friendly formation and use them to strip them off of us. And our only advantage there is how far away they are, go faster while they're still closing." Reaching back down, Prulesa matched the new speed of the two faster transports. Saving two of them looked like the best she could hope for. It stung, but one Y-Wing wasn't going to hold off that tide of fighters. At best she could bloody them a little for taking down the transport.

 

[Koda Fett]

NORIS
THE JAGGED MAW
ALLIES: Ghorua the Shark
ENEMIES: Xuan Vo ​

It became a matter of trust. Had Sularen been aware of his deeds on Noris, his decision to lend his efforts to the defenders, or was he oblivious to them? It must have been some sort of ambush, the Mandalorian considered in his mere moment of determination, and if not then... the Sith had never been the most ideal to offer one's services to; credits had been as fine as all other's, but their often vicious nature ensured a certain unseen element - the sort that Fett abhorred. But soldiers - normal men - no matter their nation, could often be trusted to maintain their desires.

His time with Sith had seen a lust for more consume them, and those that had not were sinister in their machinations. Best not to become the victim of them.

"Sounds as if there's an ambush that awaits me," he returned to the communications officer, "I'll take my chances."

He disconnected from the line.

The Spear III banked to the side, a swift movement had sent it towards the Maw once more; invisible to sensors and the eye as a result of that cloak. "Scratch that idea. I have another," he announced to Ghorua in the Jawesome, his vessel came to a halt and attached itself to the Maw, sudden movements had ensured Fett motioned within the Spear deftly and into the void; a small, miniscule dot once set beside all others above Noris. His boots enabled him to stick to the surface, to march across it, and towards the hangar.

"I've boarded."

Even his finest efforts to stick to the shadows were no doubt futile, this was a destroyer in active combat.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Spaceport
Facing: Gwyneira Vizsla

The hulking brute watched as the Mandalorian moved with her jet pack, and watched with awe as she used the force to ignite his own soldiers. He held himself back if to study his prey. In his time alive or dead he had never heard of Mandalorians who used the Force. Slowly the surprise had turned to glee as the Master of Ren became pleased with the idea of facing such a foe. He gripped his saber tightly as his own soldiers had fulfilled such a purpose of buying time and studying his enemies tactics.

He could only watch as she aimed for him with an explosive. She had been wise to stay far from him, as what she didn’t know about was his undead nature. As the explosion went off he let out a growl as if only not amused by the explosion his armor taking the brunt of it.

What came next was the monster emerging through the smoke. Fueled by pure rage he got close with the Mandalorian. His saber deactivated and while she her vambrace shield activated. In his rage he took the hit to the stomach like it was nothing, going to show he was far from an average man.


In his fury he grabbed her with his undead strength. With a roar that sent a shockwave around him he started to hold her up, if she didn’t try any Mando tricks he would throw his foe through a wall of a burning building. His rage had pushed him to resort to sheer brawn and brutality fueled by the dark side.

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

LOCATION: THE JAGGED MAW
EQUIPMENT: IN BIO
ALLIES: NIO, Koda Fett
ENEMIES: MAW, Xuan Vo - Marlon Sularen
​

Correction: there was no way that worked for more than five seconds.

But before those five glorious seconds, the Brotherhood ship had taken the bait. In that brief moment, puffer pigs could fly, dreams could come true, and all the galaxy was made right.

But then Koda Fett was rerouted to the flagship, and he cut off the plan, to do something drastically different. "Incredibly reckless pot," he began, audibly shrugging, "meet incredibly reckless fire."

"I'll try to keep their attention," Ghorua muttered, the Jawsome headed into a steep dive towards the hangar. He buzzed the side of the star destroyer, releasing a round of ion blasts into the hull, overhead Koda's advance. "Once you get in, open the doors for me, and get ready to shut them behind."

The worst thing that could happen was them getting into the capital vessel, and having no way out. Besides, he'd rather keep his ship intact.

 

[Khamul Kryze]

The Unchained

Engaging: DECEASED Remmel Karsh

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

Spoken Words of Venom

The hunt pressed on, and the predators gathered...

The Imperial resistance had been strong, but not strong enough. Another footnote in the histories of failed defenses. At least, that's how Khamul saw things. The very idea of a failed defense disgusted him. Could these Imperials, as brave as they were, truly claim strength when facing down the ceaseless tide of the Maw? No... they could not. Nevertheless, their prey showed a level of sheer determination that few could. They had even taken out several of his number, a feat that would not go without remembering. A footnote, but a note nonetheless. Khamul would remember this battle, as it would likely be one of the last real fights he and his would ever have.

"We will reach them soon. Break away, their leader is mine."

He eventually dropped down in front of his foe, this grizzled old veteran of a man. Oh what battles he must have seen... what people he must have killed... the Demon Mandalore pressed it all back into the deepest caverns of his mind. This man was a true warrior, there was no doubt about that. But was he enough to stand against the full might of Death itself? Khamul doubted it. After all, death came for all in due time. He was simply its messenger.

"You chose the wrong field to die on, Imperial."

His words cut like a knife as his blade snapped alive in a venomous hiss. Whatever this man, this old, single old man may have felt, none of his expectations could have known that he would face down the very right hand of death itself... the Demon Mandalore... Mand'alor the Unchained.

His blade crashed downward, erupting in a torrent of plasma and smoke. The blade slashed toward the man's torso, coming down at a diagonal angle, hoping to bisect the man before the fight could even start. Through his metallic, masked gaze, Khamul sneered.

"Die, dog."

 

[Greven Astor]

GREVEN ASTOR - "SAXON ACTUAL"

New Imperial Order
Strike Team Saxon

Engaging: Kralmus Orr

In Keeping Secrets

They had failed...

Their brothers were slain at the hands of the vicious Dar'Manda in front of them. His blade had cut through them as if they were nothing, tossing their very existence to the wayside as if they were mere Bantha fodder. Greven could only look on in horror at the pure display of raw slaughter, causing him to promptly call back the others.

"No... get back to the FOB. I won't suffer further loss on our part."

The others visibly protested, to which Greven pushed them back.

"GET BACK DAMN YOU!"

They finally obliged, only long too after their brethren had fallen. As the other left, Greven could only look at the man before him in pure disgust.

"Your kind will fall as you always have... and I will gladly die to see that happen!"

He leapt forward toward the man, grabbing one of the thermal detonators on his belt. As he drew close, he embraced the man, almost as if he truly meant to accept him as his own. He attempted to hold for a moment... just long enough to let the detonator go off. Greven knew no other tactic that could save his men... those brave souls that had bled and died for him. No... not him... for the New Order...

As he embraced the man that had killed his comrades, he could only let out two words...

"Ave Rurik..."

 

[Erin E-141]

Erin "Esk 141" E-141
Sergeant First Class
Noris, Near Primus, HM Base Belisarius
Writing with: Jack E-138 , DECEASED Remmel Karsh ,
Narrative Tags: Jack E-138 , DECEASED Remmel Karsh , Kyrel Ren , Gwyneira Vizsla , Xuan Vo, Marlon Sularen , Koda Fett , Ghorua the Shark , Marcad , Darth Mori.

Erin snatches the SE-61X. Erin keeps its' muzzle lowered toward the floor, she blink-clicked, and Erin's acknowledgement light shines on Jack's helmet-mounted display. Erin waits till her visor locks with Jack's again; she pumps a clenched left-fist twice toward the ceiling to signal him to prepare. Erin flicks her thumb and index finger in Jack's direction, gesturing him to open a private comlink channel between them. "Jack, you and I will move together as a team. We'll support 15th company in their defence of the spaceport." The pair marched out of the pre-fabricated building that was the regimental aid post and into the ember-choked atmosphere of Noris; Erin and Jack moved to the East gate.

A wavelength in another comlink window jumps and dips with the frantic pace, subdued in the helmet's speakers. Erin's ears detect a hoarse though firm voice she didn't recognise. It was an encrypted Imperial armed forces frequency. "Do you hear that?" Erin continued. "Are you picking up this message? It's wide cast on all of our channels." She observes pursing lips together, Erin muses. However, she did not recognise 'Cantrell' beyond his name, which she remembered. Winding through the confusion of ranks of Imperial vehicles and their crews, Erin and Jack came face-to-face with her rescuers.

"Sergeant Cantrell, report. What is the strength and disposition of the forces assaulting the spaceport?" Erin's voice was cold and taciturn through the Rampart's helmet; she heard a burst of static through her helmet speakers. Interference from the planet she resolved. Ankle-deep trench water washes against Erin's armoured boots; she stood more than two metres from the ground. She and Jack towered above the Stormtroopers in their powered assault armour.

Just the fact the Elites were there standing in their thrumming Rampart Mark Four power armour was enough. "Welcome back, Sergeant one-four-one; I heard the docs patched you up good!" One milk-faced private first-class hollered to Erin, followed by a boisterous rugged Corporal.

"Phoaw, that's what I'm talking about, gents, a dead-set mark four! Show em' how it's done, Sergeant!" Erin greeted them with a solemn wordless look from behind her visor, not moved to words by their salutations.

One disgruntled Storm Commando snorted as Jack and Erin pass cradling his rifle against shoulder while perched on the edge of a flat-bed landspeeder. "Freaks." He murmured beneath his breath and hawked up a wad of bile into his mouth and spat it into their passing. Erin ignored the comment with quiet stoicism, she knew their community to be hostile to the Elites.

 

[Kralmus Orr]

Location: Noris, Wartorn Trenches
Engaging: Greven Astor

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus is grabbed by Greven, and falls backward into a trench
• Because of the signal jammers and ionite in the trench, the thermal detonator fails to go off
• Kralmus attempts to stab Greven repeatedly in order to dislodge him

​

"Yeeeeees," Kralmus taunted, positively howling with laughter. "Go on, run away! Honor demands cowardice! What fine Mandalorians you are, attempting one attack and then fleeing with your little tails between your legs!" Apparently it had taken only one kill, one injury, and one taunt to break the fighting spirit of this so-called supercommando squad; the cannibal was still heavily outnumbered, and had only ever faced two of them at once so far, but already their leader was calling for a full-scale retreat. So distracted was Kralmus by his incredulous giggling that he failed to see Greven coming right at him, detonator in hand, until the man was already tackling him.

Your kind will fall as you always have, the Imperial squad leader was ranting, the same tired old speech about how good and justice will prevail, and yada yada yada. Whump. Greven's arms locked around Kralmus, the sudden impact throwing him to the ground. Unfortunately for both, Kralmus had been standing right on the edge of an NIO foxhole. Rather than merely hit the mud at foot level, he tumbled head over heels, rolling backward down the incline while his foe held him tight. There was no way the cannibal could disengage from Greven; he couldn't even catch himself as he rolled and slid in the churned muck. And that thermal detonator was right next to his body...

... ready to atomize everything within six meters, including both Mandalorians, any second now.

... aaaaaany second now.

"... huh." Deeply confused on account of his not being dead, Kralmus Orr raised his helmet from the sodden bottom of the trench. The mud squelched loudly as he moved, seeping into the gaps between his armor plates. Greven was still firmly affixed to him, holding on with a durasteel grip. "If this is Mawite paradise," the cannibal finally said, "I'm disappointed. Aren't there supposed to be endless banquet tables, and a choir of virgins to attend to my every need?" Raising his helmeted head far enough that he could look at the man wrapped around his midsection, Kralmus gasped in mock horror. "Wait a minute... are you my designated virgin?!"

The explanation for his continued survival was... somewhat complex, a combination of factors that boiled down to right place, right time. Thermal detonators were no ordinary grenades. They were military-grade hardware designed for throwing or for manual sabotage placement and later detonation, not suicide attacks. To keep their users safe, they contained sophisticated internal rangefinding tech that set an automatic detonation timer when the projectile left the thrower's hand, ensuring that they did not blow up the thrower but also could not be thrown back. In their other mode, they could be affixed to something and set to blow when a specific condition was met.

Greven hadn't thrown the grenade, so the sensors hadn't triggered and the timer hadn't properly started. Nor had there been time to program it with a detonation condition. That left the dead man's switch, which detonated the grenade with an energy burst when the wielder's thumb came off the trigger. But that energy burst had never come. In their push to occupy the NIO trenches without getting blown up by booby traps, The Mongrel's warriors had deployed signal jammers to cover their advance... and not just backpack units, but ionite-based projectiles they could throw ahead of them, neutralizing electronics in their vicinity. And when Kralmus had fallen backward into the trench...

... he'd come into range of the ionite disruption just in time for that detonation energy pulse to be foiled.

Not that Kralmus Orr knew all that, of course. He was deeply confused to be alive.

"Well," the cannibal Mando said, staring down at the unexploded grenade with a shrug, "I guess we should get back to it, then." He'd lost his grip on his axe in the tumble, so instead he pulled one of his many vibroknives out of his left bracer. Taking a firm grip on it, he began to stab at the man who'd tackled him, trying to find the gaps between the plates of his armor and rend open the succulent meat within. He laughed as he stabbed, the blade moving up and down in a frenzy. Kralmus didn't even pay attention to whether he was doing any damage to his foe's armor, let alone getting through it. He was giddy with his unexpected survival, manic with the thrill of near-death.

And he was channeling it into a frenzy of cackling violence.

 

[Anith Dorce]

S L A S H
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
SW OF FOB BELISARIUS | NORIS
ALLIES: DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Jorus Fel | Erin E-141 | Jack E-138 | Hiran Avola | Murraea Pharo | Cormac Thire | NIO | @whoeverelse (there's a lot of you)
ENEMIES: Darth Solipsis | The Mongrel | Keilara Kala'myr | Khamul Kryze | Erion Justeene | BOTM | @whoeverelse (seriously)
ENGAGING: Darth Saevius
GEAR: Armour | Pistol | Rifle | Vibroblade | Vibroknife | Explosives loadout

THE STAND​

"IN HERE! PLEASE!!"

That bone-chilling cry again, this time coupled with more incentive given by growls. What the hell did the Maw bring to this planet that could instill such fear into hardened troopers?

The Chiss woman wasted no time to hurry towards the cries. The vast warehouse seemed empty, but that didn't mean anything. She knew better than anyone the horror the Maw could unleash out of nowhere on people. She lost not just her family to it, but her homeworld and other Chiss-homeworlds as well. And now they had come for the last of those as well. She was more than prepared for surprises.

<Slash, where are you?>

Danny's comms-question made her breath catch and balked her in her tracks. Please no. Not surprises like that.
<Corporal, please tell me you're at Belisarius.>
<The squad is. The fight is heavy there, but they're inside.> he evaded.
<You haven't answered my question, Evans.> Panic was rising in her chest.
<Leave no man behind, Sarge. You've drilled it into us.>
<DANNY! Where are you?>
<Outside the warehouse.> Stated so simply.
Anith was sick to her stomach. She still had no idea what she was up against and now one more of her own had waltzed up to possible slaughter.
<Take cover and stay there in case our troopers need extraction.>
<Yeah, I don't think so. You're not getting off the hook that easily. I'm coming in. Deek out.>
Anith bit her lip behind her helmet. She knew there was no forcing him away with the mood he was in. So she kicked into a run once more and tried to focus on the situation at hand. Evans was a capable soldier - he'll find her or the others eventually.

She had just arrived outside the room from where she had heard the cry for help, when Davies' shocked voice pierced her ear through their helm-comms.
<Jed! Hey! Snap out of it!>
Smart girl using the comms like that.
Anne spun around and sped towards the blips on her tac-map.
<What the hell did you do to him?> and then a second later....<SHIIIIT!>
A shot rang out through the building.
"Fuck." Anith gritted her teeth and pushed into a harder sprint. <Talk to me, Davies.> All caution was out the window now. Now it was only trying to get her troops alive out of this awfully clear trap.

The silence for numerous heartbeats over the comms was deafening as Anith ran.

Tears were burning just beneath the brim of her eyelids. Had she really just led two troopers to their doom?

<Sarge.>

The whisper was barely audible.

Anith stopped.
<Erin, what happened?>
<Sith. He's got Jed. I'm hiding.> still barely audible.
Shit. <Sit tight, my girl. I'll get them off you, then you run the hell out of here.>

No more running.

She took her stand in the vast hallway - one way in, one way out.

"COME OUT SITH FREAK! GET SOME BALLS AND FACE ME!"

There was no way the Sith would be able to not hear that bellow. Evans would have as well.

Only a weak Darksider would ignore a direct challenge, that much she had learned in the decade since her home got destroyed by them. The steadfast ones were the ones that took on the warriors face to face. The rest cowered in the shadows, wreaking heartache in other, backstabbing ways.

But that hurt would stop this day.

 

[Kinoan]

Frontline of Primus
Take Out The Maw
Darth Ptolemis

From Silence, To Sirens, Without A Space Between
​

It seemed at first the thrust of the lightsaber had thrown the Sith off guard.

After what seemed like a quick an effective attack that would injure the warrior was parried, the Knight was greeted with a quick that was sent straight towards his sternum. The kick sent the Knight stumbling backwards slightly, causing himself to regain his balance. Before he could bring his saber up to attack or defend himself the Sith warrior shot upwards into the air.

The jumped was a flashy show of the Sith’s force sensitivity. It seemed as if there was no benefit to doing it. Aiming their blasters upwards, the Stormtroopers began to fire at the falling creature.

Suddenly a cloud of smoke began to surround the group of men. He could hear the soldiers and their worried calls. The men were disoriented, and worse off, vulnerable. To make matters worse a loud cry of some sickly creatures could be heard approaching with rapid speed. Maw forces were advancing.

Danger. Incoming. The force began to notify him of something that was coming, and fast. Darting his eyes around the Knight finally caught onto the crimson blade slashing downward. In a quick attempt to stop the saber the man brought up his own, catching the downward slash. The power of the strike brought him down onto a knee, driving it into the surface. Grunting, the man looked up at his attacker.

The Sith has horrifying features. Alien wasn’t even a good term to describe it, as aliens were not as scary to look at. This Maw warrior screamed fear.

But through fear came strength, and not just for his opponent.

“Your fancy tricks will have to be better than that.”

Still holding back the Sith’s blade, the man would try to attempt a risky move. Lowering his lightsaber he went for a slash towards the warrior’s chest, while also exposing the right side of his body.

It was risky, but it just might pay off.

Darth Ptolemis

 

[Greven Astor]

GREVEN ASTOR - "SAXON ACTUAL"

New Imperial Order
Strike Team Saxon

Engaging: Kralmus Orr

In Keeping Secrets

The plan seemed to work at first, the crazed member of Death's Hand being caught off guard as Greven's body smashed into him. The pair fell into the trench, and Greven held on for dear life. He was ready to give his life for those of his men... those brave men that had followed him into the fire so many times before. Those same men that he promised to provide some rest... the same ones that came here to die. Greven closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable explosion to take them both into the arms of oblivion...

Except, the blast never came.

A faulty detonator? No... it couldn't be. Then what? Greven was staring in confusion as the cannibal mocked him, taken aback by the sheer stroke of bad luck he had just experienced. Perhaps there would be no moment of reprieve for the supercommando... not even the final reprieve of a heroic death. It wasn't something he would have the chance to dwell on, as his opponent quickly drew a blade and began violently stabbing at him, seeking to find a weak point in Greven's armor. Thankfully, the armor was doing its job. The blade scraped against him time and again as Greven desperately attempted to pull his own knife.

As he fought against the flurry of attacks from his enemy, a sudden, searing pain shot through his side. The blade had managed to finally puncture him, barely squeezing between the plates of his armor. Greven let out a yell, frustration building up in him as blood began to spill from his side. In a last attempt to get away from his foe, Greven grabbed the man with both hands. Following the grab, Greven cocked his head back, and slammed his helmet against the dar'manda as hard as he could. He was sure it wouldn't do much in the way of damage, but it just may be enough to get his attacker off of him for a moment. This wasn't about survival anymore. Greven knew that he would likely not leave this planet alive. All he could do was fight until his last breath...

 

[Erion Justeene]

​

Objective: Pick a fight, win at all costs!
Location: Noris, The NIO Trenchworks
Equipment: Lightsaber, Voidsaber
Allies: BOTM
Enemies: NIO
Tag: The Mongrel | Subject 54 Havoc | Romund Sro | Darth Kalyptos | Darth Ptolemis | Khamul Kryze | Electra-12 | Keilara Kala'myr
Engaging: Murraea Pharo

The muddy trench would cement any who doesn't move into its mucky mess. Well, this was expected regardless of the worsening weather. Superious realised with the absurdity that whenever he went, the weather turns rather nasty. That is not his fault, the weather does exactly what she pleases, the force does not will nature.

He was always told to go on the offensive rather than defence as it keeps the advantage in the Sith's hands. Yet the mud and trench works made the fight a little different than normal. The pathways that kept boots from sinking were now slick and sinking.

The odds are now a dice roll, the standoff can go either way, he had no idea what a cloak was, it must be Imp slang. Superious was smart but slang was never his forte, nor was healing, the burns from Dromund Kass still were not quite healed, they were still sore and open, but they were the least of his worries.

But he pushed the unrelenting need to scratch at them to one side, he fights to win and then he'll get to the beating heart of the trenchworks to send a signal to Mongrel letting him know the place is nearing take over. But Superious was perfectly aware he is but one man and he could sense the advancing Maw, it won't be long before they arrive.

This means as long as he remains here the easier for the shook forces to overrun the area. The rain bubbled and hissed as it hit his Lightsaber, the haze, blurring all outlines nearby. He'll strike forward with his Lightsaber and let loose a barrage of Force Lightning at the same time. Superious did exactly that, the bolts of electricity tearing into the muddy walls of the Trench.

<"Fine by me."> He replied icily, intent made very clear.

 

[Kralmus Orr]

Location: Noris, Wartorn Trenches
Engaging: Greven Astor

Spoiler: TL;DR

• Kralmus's vibroknife is disabled by the ionite
• The headbutt lands, cracking his helmet visor
• He lobs the thermal detonator out of the ionite's range, causing it to go off at a distance

​

The universe, Kralmus Orr had found, tended toward balance. Over thousands and thousands of years, the Jedi and the Sith - the light and the dark - had gone back and forth with their time in power, one dominant for a while, then the other, a pendulum swinging back and forth for all eternity. In the same way, luck tended to be cyclical, with give and take. One minute you got a lucky break, and you felt on top of the galaxy. The next, luck swung back the other way, and suddenly you were in deep chit. Anyone who wanted to survive for long needed to never count on luck, to accept that it could and would go both ways. You had to be ready for unexpected benefits and unexpected problems.

The ionite in the trench had indisputably saved Kralmus's life - and Greven's too, preventing his messy suicide. But for Greven, it was a gift that kept on giving. At first, Kralmus was deeply confused by his knife's failure to penetrate his foe's armor. Sure, it was strong Mandalorian stuff, but he wasn't stabbing at the middle of one of its reinforced armor plates; he was aiming for the gaps, trying to slip through the weak points. It took him a moment to realize the problem: just as the ionite had disabled the grenade - which was rolling around, still armed, in the muck beside him - it had also disabled the power cell of his vibrodagger. He was left stabbing away with an ordinary knife.

It was still a very sharp knife, though... and eventually, he found the gap he was looking for.

Greven shouted in pain as the blade sank into his side, and Kralmus grinned as he found his blade slick with blood. He couldn't be sure that he'd managed to hit anything major - nicking a kidney would be a big win, while puncturing a lung would pretty much end the fight - but scoring first blood against his foe was always satisfying. That flank wound would slow the Imperial, paining him when he used the muscles on that side of his body... and slowly weakening him through blood loss. That was good, because Kralmus needed an advantage. He was still flat on his back at the bottom of the trench, his armor half-sunk into the muddy bottom, with Greven positioned above him.

That positioning made it almost impossible for him to do anything about the headbutt.

Wham-clank. The two men's helmets smashed together, sending a loud ringing through Kralmus's armor. As the reinforced beskar of his foe's dome struck home, Kralmus's visor cracked beneath the blow, a spiderweb of structural weaknesses appearing across his vision. If the helmet had struck Kralmus's face without the benefit of armor, it would have squashed it in like a rotten melon. As it was, Greven's tactic had worked; the cannibal was momentarily stunned, ears ringing, eyes blinking. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his senses, giving his opponent time to maneuver. That was always a mistake in a fight, Kralmus knew. He needed to do something to counteract it.

Reaching out by instinct to where he remembered seeing it fall, the cannibal Mando grabbed ahold of the thermal detonator. Although the energy pulse that would activate its baradium explosive core had been blocked by the ionite, it was still trying to fire... and as soon as it left the ionite's disruptive range, it would. So Kralmus lobbed the grenade over the lip of the trench, trying to land it somewhere behind Greven. The ensuing explosion wouldn't be close enough to directly harm his opponent, but it would generate a good-sized pressure wave, kicking up a storm of dirt and rock and metal debris. With any luck, all that crud would hit Greven from behind, distracting him.

That might just give Kralmus time to scramble to his feet and get back in the fight.

 

[Aerys Yvarro]

313TH STROOMTROOPER LEGION
"SABERTOOTH"

1ST BATTALION
1ST COMPANY

MYRRINE'S
"ASTRAL LIONS"

South of FOB: Belisarius


Gavyn Berand | Jorus Fel | DECEASED Remmel Karsh | | @NIO
The Mongrel | @Mawites​

Myrrine took a moment to catch her breath as she pulled herself up, a glimpse through the suit's heads-up display however grainy it was by that point, was all that she needed. She could make out the 117th's markings on their armor and looked back at her own unit, the Major still not that far away - although even his armor had been riddled with scorch marks. The private adjusted one of her armor plates pushing out debris while she did so, the quiet loomed only for so long. Myrrine climbed into the trench and introduced herself to the nearest 117th soldier, "Private Myrrine, 313th we're still coming in, the Park to the south is secure."

"Where do you need us," followed as she checked her weapon and cleaned off her bayonet. The moment was all she needed, as adrenaline caught up with her body. It was just that - a moment, the information was provided and Myrrine ordered her people to where they would go. Without hesitation, she and her element marched, while doing so an object fell into the trenches, "kato!" Down Myrrine shouted shoving her squadmates back as the explosive device went off, punching out part of the trench network. "Pyr! Pyr! Pyr!" Another of her squad cried out, and whilst her ears were ringing she had gained enough back to direct her bayonet up and into a Mawite.

"Eiserchomenos!" Incoming someone else called out, Myrrine scrambled to her feet and cursed, utilizing the butt of her gun to crack upward onto the Mawite cultist. "Two-Terrik, Avalonia!" The order was known among her element as they readied themselves to counter the Mawites, in the depths of the trenches that seemed eager to claim the soul of any soldier or cultist who wished to dance among it.

 

[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:
​

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.
• The Twins, smaller blaster pistols stored and concealed in cybernetic leg.
• 12xs Magnetic Thermal Detonators, wrapped around waistline.
• Mainhand Lightsaber on hip belt. In use.
• Shoto Lightsaber on hip belt.

​

​

Gwyn's mouth kept going agape at the sheer amount of damage this guy was taking. The punch was not even reacted to. The karking explosion did nothing! As he grabbed and lifted the girl, Gwyneira was trying to collect her bearings. Gritting her teeth beneath her buy'ce, her thoughts were racing.

He's practically indestructible! Should I just blast him with my missile - no, I can't risk him taking that too!

As she was thrown, Gwyn snapped into action. Using the Force, she steadied herself as her jump boots switched on. Kicking her body towards the ground, she ripped out her lightsaber, the Survivor, and shoved it into the ground to stop herself from slamming into the wall. Though, when her momentum slowed, she was only inches away from the rubble.

Hey. Death or injury is not the only way to defeat a foe.

She tore the white lightsaber blade from the ground. The purified blade hummed, calling in sorrow for the bleeding crystal if their opponent. Gwyn stood up, Of course! If I can't hurt him, I'll immobilize him! Question is, how?

She looked her opponent up and down, reflecting on what she knew. The Force gave her nothing but rage from his psyche. Enraged people could be fooled easily if preyed upon. Gwyn started walking forward again, lightsaber still in hand. Granted, I've only trained a little with Zlova in lightsaber combat. Most of what I've learned, I've learned through lucky Holocron finds in the Ji'yr Markets. But no matter, all I have to do is draw him closer to the rubble while we fight.

She picked up the pace, jogging towards her opponent with her lightsaber at the ready. She briefly pulled out her Borealis Cyro Blaster Pistol and fired at his chest. She wanted to see what cyro technology did to him. Putting the Blaster away, she reached the monster and activated the energy shield on her vambrace.

"Eat this!"

Light on her feet, she entered Form Four, Ataru swung her lightsaber. As they fought, she used Ataru's flexibility and fleet footedness to her advantage. She was sure to steadily fall back, pulling the fight towards the rubble the fallen wall. There, she would finally enact her end game strategy...

 

[Darth Saevius]

Objective: Woken Furies

Tags:

Maw: Darth Solipsis The Mongrel Khamul Kryze Erion Justeene Keilara Kala'myr

​

NIO: DECEASED Remmel Karsh Jorus Fel Erin E-141 Jack E-138

​

Engaging: Anith Dorce

Location: The Shadows

Be Mine​

Anger welled up within Saevius as his attack against the female missed - she was apparently on high enough alert to snap around in time to see him approach, and backstep away from his follow up attack. Her shot went wild, flying past his head with nearly a meter to spare. She did not remain to take a follow up shot however, rushing into the shadows until she was out of his immediate view. To add to the developing situation, he could feel the presence of another entering the building, with a mixture of emotions shedding off of all.

This ‘Jed’ - Saevius’ new pet, was not entirely devoid of his personality or former self, but appeared as if a muted version of what he once was. After Saevius uttered the word ”Kill”, the thrall surged after the fleeing soldier. As the Sith Lord observed his new servant running off to do as he was bidden, he further set about completely springing his trap. With a wave of his hand, an invisible force billowed through the building, with all doors and shutters shutting violently, and their security latches locking in place. It was shortly thereafter that he heard the voice - the taunt which emanated from the other side of the building.

"COME OUT SITH FREAK! GET SOME BALLS AND FACE ME!"

As soon as the words left her lips, Saevius’ lips curled into a menacing smile, murder in his eyes. ”She wants to play? I will show her how to play the game.”

But he was also not the type to refrain from playing with his food. He reached out with the force as he slowly approached the origin of the sound, focusing on the figure who had positioned themself in the general direction he was heading. Yes... that was her. He could feel the barely contained anguish over the idea that one of her soldiers had fallen prey to his machinations; the anger which bubbled beneath the surface, screening a deep pit of complete and total fear. How delicious...

He approached slowly, as if going on a casual walk. Meanwhile, he used his mastery over the surrounding area to do a little ‘taunting of his own’.

”Is that really what you want?” The voice would come from behind her, sounding as if his lips were right behind her right ear. Whether she turned to face it or otherwise, he would speak again - this time the voice speaking as though it were alongside the left ear: ”Your companion is at peace now. No anxiety, or reservations. And soon enough, you all will join him. You will join me.”

As the final words were uttered, Saevius would emerge at the end of the hall Anith was previously facing, his lightsaber in hand, with one of the two blades activated. The deep red light shimmered hungrily against the dull durasteel-encased hallway, with the light only barely illuminating his face. Slowly he advanced, the footfalls of his boots now surprisingly audible, as if punctuated by some unseen means of amplification.

Thud...

Thud...

THUD...

​