Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

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

IMG_6239.png

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

The fortifications around the gun were much more permanent than those she'd seen in the terminals and bays where she'd passed through. A high wall surrounded the emplacement along with several heavy guns pointing skyward to ward off enemy air attack. From the equipment and troops about, she was sure that there were more extensive defensive works outside. Her attention was primarily dominated by the massive weapon rising up to tower above them. "Come on." Apparently her escort didn't appreciate her stopping. "Right, sorry."

He lead her to a small access door in the base of the gun and opened it into some type of equipment room where several workers in coveralls were examining technical diagrams spread over every available surface save where they were pulled aside to show a readout. "Hey, you guys need a mechanic?" She asked in the sudden awkwardness of all eyes on her. One of the men in the group rubbed at his temples, "You ever work on an orbital cannon before?" His voice was heavy with exhaustion and Prulesa could smell old cafe permeating the room. "Mostly regular lasers and ships, other heavy equipment, but I figured a pair of hands is a pair of hands." Okay, that sounded lame, and now she was feeling foolish, but the man nodded. She decided he was a nice man. "Alright, we've already isolated the damaged swivel capacitors. Replacing them would pretty much take a rebuild and a crane. You can get to setting up a by-pass and we'll have more for you when you're done unless the other crews finish first." Another tech waved her over and showed Prulesa where on the schematics and pointed out the connection points for her to make note of in her datapad. Before heading down however, she made sure to seal her helmet back on, this type of place tended to be dangerous, and she wanted all the protection her flight suit could offer her.
 

Marcad

Another Snake

IMG_6239.png

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

N5cG5gd.png
Many saw this being condemned to death.

He found this to be liberating.

He invited the trampling zealots of the Maws, even seeking them out for his own amusement. Embracing the Dark Side to achieve what he wanted: the death of every Sith and their agents. Since drafted into this operation he was one of few Imperial Knights to perform stealth assignments whether to assassinate high valued targets or gather information. The former was something he always looked forward to, sating his wants. This lust of his came to the point where he became indifferent to the goal’s of their operation on Noris, only interested in it to satisfy himself. He served for the Empire, yes; however, his own agendas was what made him a Knight for the Imperials.

The time of retreat was a concern for all, not knowing if they would survive from escaping this rock. Not him, his only interests were his cravings and passions. All from giving into the temptations of the Dark Side, ultimately influencing most of his decisions.

Sensing the presence of a powerful Sith Lord, he could not help but be drawn to her. All intentions to kill her, a kill to satisfy the endless hunger within him. They both walked with a vengeance, both delivering death to fulfill their personal agendas.

Fortunate he was to see her survive unscathed from her wreckage as he would seal her fate.

”Finally…”

And the purple blade of his lightsaber came to life, nearing and nearing the Sith Lord.
 
Call me Chiss one more time....


Romund Sro Romund Sro
THE ELVENTH HOUR
Fate of the Chiss
B36075D4-3957-4E29-A882-A300500BFBB1.png

Dark Wings on the Wasteland
Engaging: the 909th

There seemed to be no end to them.

Wherever a concussion rifle landed its shot, a jumptrooper was blown to messy pieces out of the sky. The cannon sprayed the turf and air with red light, and the rifles blazing alongside it tracked the closest marks as they encroached closer and closer to the trench. But the enemy was endless. The difficult angle of shooting into the trench was protecting the little band of survivors. It wouldn't for much longer.

Mav sighted down his weapon and squeezed the trigger again. The familiar kick of a concussion rifle jarred his shoulder badly, but the results were impressive; he watched foes in mid-flight get tossed around like ragdolls by the shockwave. A barrage of aerial flares had made things complicated. It was harder to aim, but luckily today's policy was 'spray and play'. The stormtroopers had more than enough ammo clips scavenged off the friendly fallen, so aiming was more hosing down the general area with plasma with faith that eventually, the skughole would die.

When they'd first been launched, the flares had been a worry. But after 15 seconds or so of blindfire, their helmets' visors had begun to correct for this glare automatically. This was still dangerous. This was bad, yeah. But it wasn't hopeless. They could do this.... with a little luck, no slip-ups, and a little more time? They could do this.

And then Death came for them.

At breakneck speeds a figure came over the rise. His dark coat almost made him seem as a black winged scavenger soaring over the wasteland. But he was far too fast to be flying. A panicked shot from the sniper rang out at his appearance, far too delayed to actually hit him. And then there he was, standing over Oril like some towering executioner, swinging with savage efficiency.

Oril fell.

With a scream Cyra turned the sniper rifle on the masked shadow, only to be cut down by a blaze of plasma from the sky. The jumptroopers had made it in. Mav could hear the desperate melee of his remaining friends as enemy troopers advanced on the young man from either side of the trench.

In a few seconds, the bulky concussion rifle was going to get Mav killed. One last shot that threw a crowd of them to the ground and blew one apart at the joints. Then he tossed it aside and drew his sidearm in his left hand. He charged the oncoming grunts, with only one thought in his mind: I must kill the tall dark one.

His vibroknife came free of its scabbard in one quick jerk, as a three-round burst of red light splashed across the helmet of the man in front of him. When he'd crossed the distance he plunged the blade into the join of the armor plates, before pulling it free to spin around the man's corpse as cover. He felt shots thudding dully on the man's form for a moment, and then he raged forward again.

The first moved to shoot him. Shove, stab, move. The second tried to strike him with his rifle. Block, stab, stab, shove. But there were far too many, more every second, at any moment they'd light up his corpse and it'd be over and that damn monster would still be alive.

And in that moment Mav made a choice. His 4- oh, his 3 surviving squadmates were already dead. They just didn't know it yet. The sidearm went in its holster and Mav pulled something else from his belt. "Forgive me." And then he ran to dive from the doomed trench, tossing the thermal detonator behind him set to 3 seconds. "AVE RURIK!"

There was a blast that felt like it had shattered his eardrums, and then the noise from the trench seemed to have quieted. Desperately, Mav clawed and scraped his way across the wasteland, pulling himself headfirst into another foxhole, crashing down painfully into stagnant water as he landed on his bad shoulder. Slithering on his stomach into a dark tunnel, he put his back to the wall and breathed for one shaky second after another in the quiet. They were all gone. He was gone. It was over.


But he had to be sure that he'd killed that thing.
 
Last edited:

4r4tyuI.jpg

Objectives:
  • Hold the Line
  • Die Like a Hero
  • Make Your Escape
  • Aid the Wounded
FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)


'Captain??', Ivan pondered aloud, stepping out from his covered arc-of-fire to follow the direction of the loud voice, yet the young Lieutenant wouldn't take long in discerning the Captain's rank-strip from the shadows in the distance. Still somewhat bemused as the old Thane drew closer, Sienar vebalised his thoughts in saying,'With you and what army, Sir??', sounding more like a retort than curiosity, though Karsh was still of a mind to agree his subordinate was valid in his thoughts on the matter either way.

'Ha! Give him enough toys to utilise, and Captain Karsh is army enough to have fun until he runs out-'

<Slash to Ember Three.>

All those within earshot had fallen silent, letting the sounds of the other Embers and the cacophonies of war raging around them to take the auditory slack, letting Commander Greene reach for the,"SPEAK", button as he rasped,'Interesting.... Let me handle this call real quick, could be a lifeline - ya never know.', through the muffling effect of his helmet. Whatever information was about to filter through the comm-link, the Lorrdian wanted to be ready to answer at a moment's notice, ever-conscious of the proverbial ticking clock of their life-expectancies without support close by, ever-eager to get every potential playing-piece on the board moving.

<Sir, requesting if rendezvous coordinates have changed? Squad Six making its slow way to catch up, Sir. We were delayed by some party crashers.>

'Every little helps, kid.'

<"Slash, this is Callsign: Ember Three! Commander Greene when we meet face-to-face, and any help is appreciated; no matter the hold-up, no matter the troop strength.... We'll see ya when we see ya, Ember One ain't goin' nowhere anyway. Ember Three out!">

The Captain, whilst listening, was reloading his CSR-50i and chambering the first slug in the clip at the time, trying his best to make out what was being said on the other end in the moments of silence between clicks and metallic sliding-scrapes. Karsh then removed his helmet, and in the moment it thumped off the Duracerete beneath their boots, the Captain turned to his young 1st-Lieutenant and amiably growled,'To answer your question, you'll see soon enough that you've had help this entire time.', trailing off for effect, with free hand waving back and forth between the light of the street and the shadow of the cover he was using at the time. Looking back to Ivan, Remmel then cocked a mirthful grin, sniggering as he gruffly continued,'You'll be fine, just get back to the FOB in one piece. I won't be far behind with support inbound. Promise.', sniggering again as he pointed to the grenades on his utility-belt.

'I'll be needing your flashbangs and your smoke-grenades though. Got enough frags and incendiaries on site here anyway, don't need yours if it helps you more to have them. "Every little helps.", as Greene says.'

Some of Sienar's subordinates then began handing over their own, hoping that in giving more than what the Captain hoped for, it would give All-Heart some of the hope he was instilling in them in that moment. Never before had any of the Embers seen such raw confidence in Karsh before, but in seeing the sincerity that was driving it, the nearest idled troopers couldn't help but believe, even if it was only just a fleeting belief they could cling to as they wished and prayed for his return.

P4bnp97.png


A LIFETIME OF SERVICE: ACT 2 (DEATH) - PART 3
a9t5xGJ.png
FOB: Belisarius, Western Outskirts,
Primus City, Noris (874 ABY)


'Denzo! What's got you looking jittery all of a sudden?'

Waiting outside the field-hospital, along with most of the others, having received word from the hospital that they were required to wait for confirmations on location, and that the Colonel on site was hoping to speak to the Elite's saviours, the Master-Sergeant in command of Scope Platoon would make a point of waiting night and day by the entrance. Camped outside with their own little makeshift campsite, at the time, Cantrell's subordinates had been smart enough to do so with all the entrances to the field-hospital kept clear and unhindered with threefold reasoning; for their own sake, for that of the field-surgeons and medical staff in general, but mostly for the sake of their wounded comrades and hopes that more would walk out again with whatever small, menial helping-hands the Scopes could provide at the time. Otherwise, all that was left for the Scopes to do was attend to their guard-detail duties and wait for the final word on Erin E-138.

'Sarge-'

'-No, we're not doing that here.', Cantrell responded suddenly, relenting in his posture as the Atrisian corporal neared a little closer to hear his friend more clearly. Despite the snapping reply, the native of Empress Teta was right, the need for formality had long since passed them by, dwindling with their likelihood of making it out alive with every waking second; but hope of something they accepted was enough was still present, something far more precious on the back-foot, something far more effective against the denizens of the Maw. This was enough, especially for the sharpshooters of Scope Platoon, and none more than Ramon himself, pondering momentarily to himself before snapping out to continue,'Not now anyway, not any more.', almost absent-mindedly by then. The increasing Mawite presence was most-certainly more worthy of concern than ever, but this wasn't the Tetan's main problem, though it was enough to distract him from his own curiosity - soon rectified by the diligent response of his Atrisian subordinate.

'Fair enough, Ramon.... And to answer your question, Jack E-141's been spotted walking in at the east entrance, assumed to have been called for the final word. Should we join 'im?'

Nodding assent, Cantrell let Futanara lead the way as he put the wire-brush for his rifle down on the rag he used to wrap around it for storage, then stepped out into the night - in search of Elites.

Cut off from the Spaceport, isolated from the other units in the area, and without any lasting logistical aid to speak of, so at the very least, it was clear to the Scopes that this would be a worse fight for them than Nirauan, and then some. However, what most didn't know was the backgrounds they came from, what spurring factors brought them all together, and most of all, the understanding of the fact none of them would survive for long as civilians otherwise. The 117th was their life, their soul and their dreams at night, they couldn't know anything else but their service-tenures with the best sharpshooter-platoon in the Empire; Cantrell's subordinates had know means of pining for something better on the horizon, no means of aspiring to peace, nor of true victory. The Embers was their better horizon, their peace, their true victory - they no longer felt the need to wish for more.

This, their last hours as living, breathing soldiers of the Empire, was everything to every last one of them. For every last second the Embers served together, and especially with those of Scope Platoon, would be seen as miracles for every instant that passed with ceaseless pride of fighting for something greater than all their individual humanoid forms combined.

To fight, and to die, for righteous Imperial order in the Galaxy - to men like Ramon Cantrell, there was no higher honour.
 
Last edited:

IMG_6239.png

Knight Melvain Braxis + Knight Command Ondarr
Allies: FN-999
Enemies: Rannan Kol Rannan Kol

DjqGXyQ.png

bhEkyhm.png

Left For Dead


"Are those..." Melvain watched in horror as the Moon Children began to surge towards the spaceport. He'd never seen the Moon Children up close with most of his time during this war spent behind the Iron Curtain hunting rebels. Ondarr grunted.

"Yes. Nasty little beasties. It seems our Stormtrooper friends could use a little help, no?" Without another word Ondarr leaped forward, powered by the Force. His cape streamed behind him as he headed for the front lines. Shocked Melvain sputtered before following after, leaving their own guard contingent behind. Like two white comets the pair streamed towards the trenches and into the wave of clones. The air whipped at his ears, neither of them were wearing helmets, and the sound was nearly deafening.

<White Wave>. Melvain read the words on his master's lips even if he couldn't hear the words. He nodded and began to gather power within himself. It felt like a storm raging inside him, urging him to move, to act. The Force required him to bring Order and Balance to this land where the Maw had brought only Chaos and Discord. The two knights landed in a throng of bodies and he expelled the power he'd been building inside. Ondarr did the same thing and the White Wave struck, throwing dozens of bodies out and away from the pair, back into their own ranks. The shocked cries and vocalizations of the monsters as they tumbled, cut, and impaled one another expanded well over ten meters away. Ondarr was much stronger in the Force than he was. With a Snap-Hiss their white lightsabers came to life. The pair of knights were like two dance partners waltzing through flesh and bone. As Melvain's blade was to come down on one of the clones' heads a red blade stopped him. Surprise washed over him as he stared up into a thickly built man dressed in black robes. Sith? Melvain cursed as he was flung back by the Force, caught unaware of the monster. Ondarr caught him and the pair skidded back.

"We need to keep them out of the trenches as much as possible!" Ondarr shouted over the roar of battle. Melvain looked around them.

"It seems they've already gotten in sir."

"I said as much as possible. Don't let these mere acolytes catch you off guard. You are a KNIGHT of the Empire, not some Errant or Squire." It was then that Melvain noticed the helmeted gazes on him. They needed him. Melvain gritted his teeth.

"For the Empire!" Melavain shouted, blade raised as he rushed back into the throng.

DjqGXyQ.png

j2g6vLa.png

B36075D4-3957-4E29-A882-A300500BFBB1.png


LEFT FOR DEAD
Robert

The roar of the Maw walkers weapons firing on the men around him combined with the Imperial walkers engaging enemy walkers was deafening. The sound of lurching, slagged durasteel groaned as one of the Imperial walkers went down, its main gun firing one last volley before the operators bailed and the walker exploded. The sudden flash of light was blinding. Robert cursed. Maybe this was the one day he should have worn a helmet, then at least he wouldn't have to worry about sudden flashes and the like. A loud crash far to his left drew his attentions and what he saw sent chills down his spine. Maw walkers were...raming into the wall? Robert cursed. He and his were just outside the wall, keeping the Maw busy and pinned for artillery and wall-mounted defenses. At least, that's what he had told the men. He knew that the fighting was spread all throughout now. There was no stopping the tide.

"Storms above I hope the Regent gets out of this blood bath safe. Stormfather knows we won't be making it out today." He said it quiet enough only for himself to hear as he and his men retreated back to the next trench cursing.


 

Erin E-141

Guest
E

IMG_6239.png

N5cG5gd.png

Erin "Esk 141" E-141
Sergeant First Class
Noris, Near Primus, HM Base Belisarius
Writing with:
Jack E-138 Jack E-138 , DECEASED Remmel Karsh DECEASED Remmel Karsh .
Narrative Tags: The Mongrel The Mongrel , Marcad Marcad , Ranna Sejast Ranna Sejast , FN-999, Cormac Thire

"Jack." Erin's tone was flat and stoic though she used the index and ring finger of her left hand to make a curved 'L' shape in front of her face; it was sign language used exclusively among the Elites to distinguish happiness or a smile without having to physically display the emotion. "At least now I know what it takes to get some rest in this unit." Erin jest was delivered with the usual stoicism, given they were in the Colonel's presence. She answered, listening to Jack's statement about her anticipated death while sliding into the Rampart bodysuit. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm done with my nap."

"One last thing before you go, Sergeant." Colonel Wolthius's smooth voice interjects. Wolthius presses a white handheld injector tipped with a vial of viscous green fluid against the port through the bodysuit that threaded into her femoral vein. "Steroids to help promote dermatological and sub-dermal tissue recovery from the burns. Failing bed rest, as a Physician, I'll have to recommend you be on light duties for a standard week." Wolthius pressed the trigger, and the device punched its' contents into Erin's dense musculature; he then repeated the same procedure with her subclavian veins; she didn't think so much as wince or acknowledge the injection, barely pausing her donning of the Rampart Armour.

"I'll be one-hundred per cent right now or die trying, sir." Wolthius' then left with Silva. Erin's gaze searched for Jack's eyes; she steadily stretched, flexed her burnt arms and hands, sighing, "Thanks for not plotting the downfall of the Maw without me. You mentioned they're trying to plant explosives. Why?" Erin waved a gesture for Jack to use the tools in the kit and help her become entombed in this new variant of Rampart Powered Armour. The heavy-looking black helmet is lowered over Erin's crown in her two small hands; its' holographic helmet-mounted display comes online its' strip-like visor shimmers a pale gold.

Its' piezoelectric layer comes online to the exciting electric touch of the onboard fusion generator; it lifts the several hundred-kilogram mass off Erin's body, suspending the armour. Erin's gaze turns down to her hand; she turns it palm up and steadily curls each of her fingers into a fist.
"I used to think I wore this armour. Now, I think it wears me." She paused and looked to Jack, the planet tremored again. "Do you have our orders?" Erin gestured in the direction of the Neon 'exit' sign that hung from the ceiling.
 
Last edited by a moderator:

FN-999

Guest
F

IMG_6239.png

N I N E S

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


emPPXU6.png


As his adrenaline-fueled anger subsided, FN-999 felt his attention return to the larger battle.
As it seemed, the Maw's elites had used some sort of invisibility power to breach the 19th's trenchworks and sever its communications with the rest of the 117th. Unless he got within personal radio proximity of a senior 117th officer or reinforcements happened to arrive in the right place at the right time, the 19th was completely on its own against an enemy that could appear and disappear with the flick of an eye. It was a bad situation all right.

"Please, don't let this end like Dosunn."

FN-1284's parting words passed through his brain once more. Indeed, Dosunn had been worse, both physically and mentally devastating on the then-sergeant, and likely the closest to death he had ever come in a single day. If he could just calmly assess his situation, he could easily turn this battle around.


[All 19th units still in the F trench, blow the C4 and make it back to the R trench.] ordered FN-999 through his helmet comms. [Reserve platoons, cover their retreat and assume roles as the new F trench. Stick in pairs or groups so that the invisible Maw elites can't pick us off unmolested.]


"Very good."

The stormtrooper pulled his attention from his comms just in time to hear an unfamiliar voice.

Immediately, the adrenaline that had so recently left FN-999 returned in full force, his heart pounding as he turned to face his assailant.


"I didn't ask for your praise, you freak." spat the lieutenant legion commander.

Truthfully, his opponent was oddly composed for the freak that FN-999 had accused him of being. Unlike the hooded wraith that had previously assaulted him, he could tell that this individual was a humanoid male of around his age, with a slightly taller and bulkier build than his own. Clearly, sheer force would not be enough to overpower this man.

With a sudden, fluid motion, the man hurled one of his two lightsabers at FN-999's torso, its glowing blade spinning in a deadly cycle. Fortunately, the lightsaber blade was significantly shorter than that of his Iustitia. He drew the sword to his right shoulder and then swung powerfully to the left, the large blade intercepting the lighter flying lightsaber midair and sending it harmlessly into the rubble forming the left trench wall.

However, as the electrified blade intercepted the lightsaber, he felt a sudden sense of unnatural weakness. It was not enough to make him fail to deflect the blade, but it sapped more energy from him than it would have expected, and he took a deep gasping breath to restore his strength.

Perhaps this man cursed his own blades. For the sake of caution, I'd better bring him down from range.

With a fluid motion of his own, FN-999 leapt backwards while deactivating and sheathing his sword. With about five meters between the pair, FN-999 stepped backwards while carefully pulling out both FN-1284's
pistol and his own.

Without any further hesitation, he pointed both guns at the man's head and opened fire.



 
IMG_6239.png

ROTGUT WARBAND
5x Troop Carrying LuchsHai's [x] | 2x Anti-Air LuchsHai's | 4x Mongrel's Howl LuchsHai's | 1x Sluggah [x]
5 Klicks from Primus Spaceport​
Karissa Saitel | Cormac Thire
Also tagging most if all at the spaceport, because I made a big boom and have sent an uncontrolled rocket artillery barrage to the spaceport..
Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren | Rannan Kol Rannan Kol | Baxter Weyland Baxter Weyland | Ivan Sienar | Skorge the Bloodied Skorge the Bloodied | Gwyneira Vizsla Gwyneira Vizsla

Steady Iggy, steady!” Rotgut snarled, “Keep us trundling boy, but not too hard on the clutch!” Ignatius wiped beads of cold sweat from his brow. As if it was easy to keep this thing moving and ensure the warband leader was kept content. Ignatius however tried his hardest, hands gripping the controls with white knuckle tenseness. Oh how he hated this so bloody much. Why did he have to be the one to drive this fucking thing? Surely there were plenty more capable simpletons aboard this scrap heap. Ignatius gritted his teeth as he watched one of the lookouts scamper down the centre mast, using the patchwork scrap ladder crudely welded together. The lookout, attired in grimy shorts and a crop top approached Rotgut with a pair of macrobinoculars and the two conversed briefly before the obese warlord turned to Ignatius, “Dragleg, veer left. “ he gestured to a small ridge, “Reckon we have us a good view up there. Steady us and get a wriggle on!” Ignatius sighed but dutifully nodded. Another set of orders. Fantastic.

Flares were detonated from the Thundah Givuh as Rotguts command was followed through. The squadron of LuchsHai speeders followed suit pressing up the small incline Ignatius slowed the large barge to a crawl as he watched for Rotgut's command. He swallowed, watching the man, before he raised his clenched, rusted, cybernetic fist. "HOLD!" The barge stopped, and Rausgeber disconnected the ignition. No need to risk any further movement. Rotgut limped forward. He was a disgusting creature to say the least. Half machine. Half man. With a dialysis machine constantly pumping who knows what from his tubs of rolls. Rusted parts creaked and groaned with each breathe, entwining themselves within the greased and slimy fat rolls of the slavers gunt. Ignatius followed up, as the marauding Auxiliaries took stock. Many taking swigs from their canteens, as they moved to the sides of the barge. Before them, they could see it. Primus spaceport. Their target. In largely ruins. But it was clear even at this distance, the New Imperial force was present. "Seems the rats are burrowed in thick." Rotgut snarled, with a smirk. "Reckon we should soften 'em up." He turned to the crew, "Stow the sails, and ready the 'owl!" There was a raucus cheer from the Mawites as the order came through. Time for some real fun.

Ignatius himself had his priorities change. He knew he needed protection. The marauding Mawites began to hack away and pull at the bonds tying the sails to the masts of the barge. Quickly and decidedly tying them down, and crudely folding them on deck. All the while the stern of the Thundah Givuh was a mess as the Auxilaries moved to prime their favourite weapon. The Mongrels Howl. Although by no means a sophisticated piece of kit, the Howl as it was affectionately referred to was a weapon of mass destruction. The idealised mixture of terror and devastation. Often times blanketed across several kilometers. Especially with the terrifying amount of them, launched in the one hundred barrel configuration. At the base of the large, squarely like cannon, Auxiliaries began to crank and twist the machine, angling it. "Right!" Rotgut commanded, "Concussive rounds lads! Let's make us a big boom!" There was a flurry of affirmations, as Rotgut kept his eyes on Primus. Watching the spaceport. "Reckon there's maybe... Three and a 'alf, ter four 'tween us!"

At the base of the gargantuan weapon system, the Auxiliary's began to angle the weapon, up and up. Trying to fix the Howl on the best angle of approach. "Sixty foive!" One Auxiliary snapped, before moving to the edge of the barge, "Oi, maggots, sixty foive! Concussive on Rotties mark!" The LuchsHai vehicles fixed in artillery configuration pressed side by side with the barge, as their own crews moved to work the weapons. Their Howl's were significantly smaller, all cantered at thirty a piece. But between the five launchers primed and ready, nothing short of the Force itself would stop them. Ignatius was scrambling to his station, leering down beneath the command console and fishing within the loose collection of belongings there for what he needed.

"Right maggots!" Rotgut proclaimed, "Are you ready?!" Ignatius' hands rifled through the boxes of spare electronic components, moldy rations and scrap metal for what he needed. He knew he'd left them there. He couldn't bare to not have them. Each swipe, and dig into the rusted crates, he felt his hands become increasingly cut, and scraped as he struggled.

"READY!" Came the roar from the Auxiliary. It was tremendous. A terrifying affirmation of their strength. So loud, it was likely those at Primus even distantly heard the cry. Ignatius did not join in, his hands fixed on what he had now. The head band. He felt to both ends. The muffs were there! Thank the maker.

"I can't hear you!" Rotgut snarled to the Auxiliaries. His voice hoarse and filled with phlegmy bile, "Come on you feckless ingrates!" He brushed past some of the slave soldiers, and began to stomp his mechanical, formerly gout ridden foot against the deck plating, "Tell me you're ready!"

"READY!" Ignatius had seen this pagentry all before. But unlike his cohorts, had no intention of suffering what was next. The deck of the barge trembled and dozens of Auxiliaries began stamping their feet up and down. "WE ARE READY TO SERVE! UNTO DEATH! UNTO OBLIVION!" They chanted, as Ignatius fixed the ear muffs to his ears. Tightening them. They were made of some sort of native cotton. Probably at one point recreationally used by the Chiss. But now they served one of their vanquishers, a key piece of Ignatius Rausgeber's protective regimen. The human winced, as he felt the inevitability of what came next.

"Then if you are ready!" Rotgut began, jeering the crowd of war crazed madman, "BRING UNTO THE INFIDELS! BRING UNTO THEM OBLIVION!" There was a surprising slickness, as all four vessels pulled the rip cord. The Mongrel Howls creaked and groaned for a minute. Before it hit. The carcophany of sound. The palpable rage of the Maw and its slaves made sound. The infamous howl of its Auxiliary.



Flares, red, black and yellow were launched as the Maw cheered. Ignatius was knocked down by the full force of the blast as it made the barge shudder. His hands, bloodied with skin peeling, clenched against his muffs. But even beneath all that pressure, it was as if someone was screaming in his head. Down below, at Primus. Two hundred and twenty Thundahvelins, armed with an explosive concussive warhead, now bore down upon the fortresss. The noise echoing through the atmosphere.

"COME ON LADIES, GIVE 'EM A TASTE OF US!"
 
IMG_6239.png

Location: Imperial Trenchline
Allies: Skorge the Bloodied Skorge the Bloodied ; Kyrel Ren Kyrel Ren
Enemies: NIO | FN-999 | Melvain Braxis Melvain Braxis
Equipment: Apostles Vestments; The Dark Sacraments

There was a moment when Kol was actually rather surprised. He hadn't expected the Trooper to be able to deflect his lightsaber as it hurtled towards him but when FN-999 did so and in competent fashion it brought a predatory expression to the Dark Apostles features. It seemed clear that this Trooper was a cut above the rest.

As the Trooper leapt backwards, deactivating his own sword and resheathing it rather than pursue him Kol drew upon the force to retrieve the lightsaber he'd throw. An application of minor telekinesis was enough to summon the deactivated hilt back to his waiting hand whereupon Kol withdrew.

This was a battle, quickly evolving ensuring the landscape changed. Kol knew better than to stay in one place for to long. After the lightsaber had flown back into his waiting hand and seeing the Trooper ahead of him pull a pair of pistols he engaged in a controlled acrobatic movement wherein aided by the force he would leap up and out of the trenchline he'd been fighting in.

The Force Jump sent Kol flipping overhead and to the side out of the trench and onto higher ground. A burst from one of the pistols barely missing him in the process before the Dark Jedi disappeared from view.

Up top, above the trenchline but still situated between them things were slightly different. He could get a lay of the land and see the divide of the trenches as well as other important locations more clearly. Bunkers. Machinegun Nests. A pair of Troopers caught his attention, one armed with a Flamethrower and the other standard armament. Odd that they didn't incinerate Kol though.

It was because they didn't see Kol, he saw the image that Kol was projecting now. Another illusion, this one based on the last Imperial he'd seen. He projected an image into the mind of the Troopers, making himself appear as one of their own based off how he'd seen FN-999 look. They'd have no reason to suspect him but what's worse was how he made their allies look to them.

"Over there. Light up those freaks."

...you see, he had been paying attention. The target, one of the Machinegun Nests which Kol made appear to be infested with 'Moon Children'. The Troopers would incinerate their own brothers if only because if they resisted Kol would use his force of will like a parasitic worm to infest deeper into their minds.

This was above and beyond of course. There were still Acolytes causing havoc, still 'Moon Children' rushing the trenches ensuring that any retreat would see casualties even if those were mitigated.

It wasn't until Kol, the din of combat rising in his senses turned his head that he saw a pair of Imperial Knights cutting a swath through several Acolytes and Moon Children that he refocused his efforts.

"Help our Brothers."

...the sound of his voice spoke to the pair of Troopers whose minds he'd invaded, sibilant whispers resounded over and over again in their minds. When they looked at Melvain Braxis Melvain Braxis and Knight Command Ondarr they saw a pair of Acolytes cutting a swath through Imperial Troopers not a pair of Imperial Knights cutting through their enemies. Without hesitation and with the encouragement of Kol bending their minds the Troopers would attack, the Flamethrower would belch out a chemical gout in the direction of the two of them showing no regard for the 'Mawites' that might also be caught in the blast.

Only the sudden roar of rockets overhead made Kol tilt his head upwards and take note.​
 

FNOZuJK.png
B36075D4-3957-4E29-A882-A300500BFBB1.png
Location: Noris
Objective: Woken Furies
Tags: Electra-12 Electra-12 ~ Anyone who wants a bombing run
Ship: TIE/HB Bruiser

Flight: x2 TIE/HB Bruiser

As Jalter sat there his comm unit suddenly came to life, at first the sound of blaster fire then the voice of a young trooper. "Brawler 3-1, Bandit 44, copy, standby for AO update!" the man said hurriedly. Time for some action Jalter though to himself. Jalter turned to the datapad and got ready to record the target information. "Bralwer 3-1, Bandit 44, as fragged, 160 offset south, 10.4, 3-0-0 feet, mechanized column, grid 0-7-0-7 Keypad 7, target marked with laser code 1688, 700 meters North West, pilot discretion." Jalter took down all the information, seemed the target was Mawite reinforcements looking to back up their vanguard. Jalter spoke back "Bandit 44, Brawler 3-1, read back, 3-0-0 feet, 0-7-0-7 keypad 7, 700 meters Northwest. Ready remarks."

No response.

"Ready Remarks" Jalter repeated and suddenly the comm unit came back to life, the sound of blaster fire a lot more intense. "Good-" Another blaster bolt sounded as if it zipped over the JTAC's head. "Good read back" he replied calmly. Jalter let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Bandit 44 still breathing.

Jalter switched comms channels to crater and spoke, "You got all that?"

"Got it boss." the lieutenant replied

"Alright, follow me in" he said before pushing down on the throttle and heading towards the grid coordinates. "Pushing now Bandit 44, time to IP 2 mikes." he said to the JTAC. As the bombers got closer to the frontline and descended below the cloud level the brutality of the ground war came into full view. Muddy trench warfare against an enemy with little disregard for his own life. "Am I glad I became a pilot." he heard Crater say softly over the comms.

As the two bombers reached the IP Jalter turned to one of the many screens in the cockpit that was linked to a targeting pod attached to the underside of the TIE Bruiser. "At IP, mark target" he said back to the JTAC. "Mark out." Volff heard and suddenly the targeting pod locked onto what looked like an assortment of mawite vehicles and infantry marching to the frontline. "Contact."

Jalter sat their in the cockpit, the TIEs now getting closer and closer to the target. That's when Jalter heard Bandit 44 say his favorite words to hear. "Clear hot." With that Jalter reached for the bomb bay door controls before loading concussion bombs. Loud clunks were heard inside the cockpit as the Bruiser cycled through its ordnance before a small green light flashed indicating the payload was ready. He switched comms back over to Crater. "Time to dive." he said before punching the throttle forward and pushing down on the joystick.

As the two TIEs began their rapid descent Jalter felt the G-forces start to pile in. Flying in atmosphere was completely different to space. Suddenly AA fire came in, gun batteries targeted them and explosions rattled the Bomber. The pilot didn't even flinch, he was focused on only two things, staying on course and his breathing. The closer the got to the target the more intense the fire got. His HUD lit up and an automated voice spoke. "WARNING. SHIELDS 65%" Jalter immediately dismissed the message, instead grabbing the bomb release controls. He watched the targeting pod screen as the distance shortened and shortened until he could drop his payload, almost like a countdown.

In an instant he pushed the bomb release controls forward releasing 8 concussion bombs onto the Maw mechanized column before pulling up hard on his controls, heading straight for the cloud layer and out of range of the flak guns. As he ascended he heard 16 sets of explosions which meant crater got his payload off as well. "Brawler 3-1, Bandit 44, standby for BDA, smoke and dust obscuring." he heard over the comms unit. Jalter awaited eagerly as his TIE pulled into the cloud layer and the sound of AA fire slowly disappeared. "Brawler 3-1, Bandit 44, good hits, multiple targets destroyed."

The pilot grinned under his helmet before replying "Bandit 44, Brawler 3-1, that's what we like to hear. Egressing North West now." he said before switching comms over to Crater. "Status report?"

"Hull integrity at 75% and falling, apart from that I think I'm good. Got hit hard by the flak. Need you to check my bomb bay doors, controls are unresponsive." he replied and Jalter pulled back on his throttle before angling his Bomber underneath his wingman's own. Looking up Volff saw the extent of the damage and replied. "You're missing one of your bomb bay doors, a few inches over and they would've struck your payload. Whatever god you pray to came through." he said. Aerodynamics on Crater's Bomber were a mess and he'd be in for a bumpy ride. "We'll RTB and have a tech check up on it. I still got enough ordnance to keep on going myself" Jalter continued.

"That's if we make it back. Got a bad feeling that we've overextended ourselves on that run." Jalter looked up into the sky at those words, scanning for any enemy starfighters but not spotting any.

"Fly fast and we'll make it back just fine." he said. A statement he hoped was true but knew it probably wasn't.
 
IMG_6239.png

Location: Spaceport
Allies: Skorge the Bloodied Skorge the Bloodied Rannan Kol Rannan Kol
Ignatius Rausgeber Ignatius Rausgeber
Enemies: Cormac Thire FN-999
Facing: Gwyneira Vizsla Gwyneira Vizsla


The carnage was relentless, as it was a decade ago no one was immune to the brutality of the Maw. All around the barbaric stormtroopers had turned up the dials on the destruction. All around you saw was nothing but death, and the ever so clear presence of unbridled rage had filled the streets of the spaceport. The crimson blade had sung its song of death with each slash it made. Even with his rage at a simmer Kyrel himself couldn’t deny that with a flash from his blade, the light fading from his quarry’s eyes had brought a sense of peace to him.

Something that was only enjoyed momentarily until he had sensed this particular presence. At first he expected something similar to the Jedi, perhaps the disciplined Imperial Knights who served as the NIO’s dogs of war. Instead it was something familiar, and yet something unexpected. Even with his men burning, feasting, raiding, and killing all those in they’re path he was truly drawn in by this aura. He turned to directly face it, and found himself puzzled by it. A dark Jedi perhaps? A rogue Sith? Maybe even a dark sider trained by the Imperials. His mind was racked with all types of scenarios for they might be.

Just as he was about to advance in both curiosity and in his own bloodlust a flying sniper round changed his mind. He saw several of his Stormtroopers taken down, all in very close proximity to him. Some started to come closer hinting that he was next. Finally one came towards him, and instead of blocking this shot he took it straight to the face. The round causing sparks to fly as it impacted his own death mask. A dent appeared but showed that it had almost tore through the mask. The silent rage steadily started to increase with new heights.

And in that moment as he was about to advance to meet this new source, what came next was a barrage. Said barrage of rockets tore through the streets, shelling through the surrounding buildings. Even to advance close to his new found prey. One slammed directly in front of the Master of Ren, and the walking corpse didn’t even flinch. Even with all the shrapnel, it appeared as if nothing would stop him. His eyes blazing yellow with the dark side, with how heavy his body was he advanced as quick as he could towards her. Even if it meant being under a hail of sniper fire he would crush this new foe.
 


IMG_6239.png


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 Kyrel Ren

Equipment:


Testing.png


I N V I N C I B L E ?


Well.

Even a shot in the face did not phase this foe. He marched on, no matter what stood in his path. The barrage came in. Sensing it even as the screaming of rockets resounded, Gwyn snatched up her rifle and leapt off the wall well before a rocket slammed into the spot. Using the Force, she effortlessly landed on the ground. It was when she looked up that she saw the lightsaber brandishing monster approaching.

She hastily switched her rifle from sniper mode to assault mode.

Okay, She thought to herself, A head shot did not kill him, though he took the damage. I should focus on debilitation.

She took aim, firing rounds at a faster rate with the assault mode of The Distant Chill. The feet, ankles, shins... If she could get him to stop walking, if she could get him on the ground, she would already have a great advantage.
 
IMG_6239.png

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

The ladder was tight and dark and Prulesa's breath sounded loud in the confines of her helmet as she clambered down into the depths of the massive orbital cannon. "This should be for droids," she grumped quietly to herself, but they seemed to be either incapable or unavailable. She lowered her foot to the next rung and gave it a testing stomp before trusting it with her weight. There hadn't been any moisture or other filth showing deterioration, but she was also willing to bet she was the first organic to climb this thing since it was installed.

Eventually reaching the bottom, she stepped into the dim glow of the emergency glow panels. Most seemed busted from the release of energy when a capacitor went which was unfortunate as that's where she needed to go. Taking her own light out, she used some engineering tape from her tool kit to tape it to her helmet so she could see hands-free and set out to examine the damage.

A repair droid of some type skittered by on mechanical legs startling her momentarily. This place was eerie, warm in contrast to the chill of above, but also completely silent in a way that she hadn't experienced in a long while. No people or hum of an engine, none of the recent gunfire or explosions echoing into the port above. That thought spurred her on to action. Moving to the damaged coils, she made sure the damaged coils were properly pushed back from the adjoining capacitors and weren't bridging the gap to an adjoining one. arcing to or from a damaged capacitor could cause another one to explode if it didn't just steal power. Then she moved on checking the giant cabling for scoring, marking it where it was, as she began detaching the connectors from the parts she needed to bypass. "Hey you!" she shouted at the droid that had scared her earlier. "Can you do something about this?" She pointed at the damaged areas eliciting a trill in response. Prulesa didn't speak droid, but it began working over the split insulation, working on the interior cabling before patching the surface.
 

B36075D4-3957-4E29-A882-A300500BFBB1.png

K A L Y P T O S
CHILDREN OF THE VOID
BROTHERHOOD OF THE MAW
MAW | The Mongrel The Mongrel | Subject 54 Havoc Subject 54 Havoc | Erion Justeene Erion Justeene | Romund Sro Romund Sro
NIO | Morrow | DECEASED Remmel Karsh DECEASED Remmel Karsh | Mav Ryburn Mav Ryburn
ChVAW7n.png

vB5takK.jpg


DEMIURGE
NORIS '75
The bouts of puritanical defiance would do little to serve the Knight here. The Khot Vong and most particularly, the High Prophet who stewarded them were a stoic, unmoving force. With savagery never fettered and a will for brutality fit for the Mawites around them, they were a horde of monstrosity that piled down unto the mud and camouflage betaplast clad Stormtroopers in the filth of the trenches. As the Knight and the Prophet delved into an encounter with civilized weapons, the battle around them was anything but so.

Not a foot away from them the horrible mechanical note of a vibro axe ripping into flesh and bone screamed out into the bloody fray around them as a stormtrooper fell collapsed with snapped bones and crimson ichor spilling from the felled corpse. Not a moment later, the perpetrator saw the back end of a butt stock cave in its mutated cranium, spurring violet blood from the mutant to spill out as it turned in anger to see a particle beam splash against its face, melting flesh to the skull before the trooper carried on down the line.

The lightning met the Knight's saber in kind, as was typically the first defense of Jedai or Knight, the High Prophet thought. He hardly employed the ability as a coup de grace or anything more than a means of stun, incapacitate or break the focus of his opponent. Raising his blade into the traditional stance, Kalyptos responded in kind, throwing off his hood to reveal the gruesome, abrasive gaze of the sithspawn mutant as he opened his arms out, his right hand clutching the violet blade to provoke an attack toward his center mass. Whether he seized the initiative or not, while his guard was high, Kalyptos would swipe the violet blade toward the Knight's leg before surging toward him to close the gap between them, looking to exploit an opening in the Knight's guard once more in order to impose a drain on his opponent's life force and break his fighting spirit.

A task far easier said than done.

All the while, Kalyptos moved in haunting silence, his pale gaze unmoving from Morrow's own.
 
N_LT9yKAXUCSbuWgaoi-Y874PM90NaZqy1KCjDuEy0uhx21wdQHbmVQ06BDisWA35gGrOLoolfaNUg1cR-IxLfMflqQX7aNMfzuXrxKg-d3pKdbUcbREVxswkIMdm4SrFgQdp70n
Location: Low Orbit - Noris
Call Sign: Nacheria Seven
Objective: Woken Furies - Claim Air Superiority
Equipment: Orestiad Flight SuitHekler’Kok FP-01
Allies: BotM ( Keilara Kala'myr Keilara Kala'myr Subject 54 Havoc Subject 54 Havoc Erion Justeene Erion Justeene Romund Sro Romund Sro The Mongrel The Mongrel Darth Kalyptos Darth Kalyptos Darth Ptolemis Darth Ptolemis Khamul Kryze Khamul Kryze )
Enemies: NIO ( Jalter Volff Jalter Volff Morrow DECEASED Remmel Karsh DECEASED Remmel Karsh Murraea Pharo Ivan Sienar Mav Ryburn Mav Ryburn TK-8867 TK-8867 Melvain Braxis Melvain Braxis Anith Dorce Frajan Borjar Gavyn Berand Gavyn Berand Greven Astor Greven Astor )
Direct Engagement: Jalter Volff Jalter Volff

The primal, ancient roar of the lone Final Dawn TIE was cast forth from the heavens to the ground, an ominous, yet deceptive sight for New Imperial Stormtroopers in the trenches. The craft somewhat resembled their own TIEs, not the Uglies or scraped-together X-Wings machines the Brotherhood was known for. Their awe and respect would quickly be shattered as the lone craft swooped down on an Outlander TIE, before unleashing a lancing quartet of magenta fire that ripped through the craft in a fiery explosion, vaporizing the pilot before he was even aware of the threat in his midst.

What followed was aerial savagery.

Electra-12 held her TIE’s course in a shallow dive through the wreckage of the Outlander TIE she had shot down only a split-second prior, relying on her craft’s shields to protect it from the debris in the process. Then, lining up her guns with the second Outlander, presumably her last kill’s wingmate, her fingers squeezed the triggers with cold malice to unleash a second salvo of lancing fire, cutting through the second craft in much the same manner as before. Then, whipping her TIE in a sharp, drop-kick turn just as a third Outlander moved on her tail, the strand-cast tapped the SLAM for a short boost to recover her speed, before opening up her beam cannons on a pair of Outlanders passing overhead. The craft that had been on her tail only moments before was forced to correct, bleeding off speed in the process that allowed the strand-cast to slip out of cannons’ range. Accordingly, an insistent alarm met her ears as a missile lock warning cried out.

Electra-12 decided that she would meet the problem head-on.

Pushing her control sticks to starboard, Electra rolled her craft in a 180-degree turn, pinning the accelerator as she leveled her wings. Now rapidly closing the distance, with the missile lock failing to take hold, the strand-cast angled her craft on the still-charging Outlander, as if daring the enemy pilot to break off from the incoming head-on pass.

He did not.

Squeezing the triggers, Electra opened fire as soon as she came into cannons’ range. The of beams lanced through the charging Outlander’s shields and hull in a single, vicious salvo, but she did not come away unscathed, alarms howling in her ears as her eyes drifted to the warning in her HUD, indicating that her shields were now at half capacity, with minor damage to her hull. Regardless, Electra had anticipated the price and was willing to pay it, so long as it brought her one step closer to her destiny, as the last and the greatest TIE ace of this corrupt galactic order.

Now with some of the enemy’s air superiority assets removed from the battlespace, Electra pulled into the cloud layer and set a course towards a formation of enemy bombers ( Jalter Volff Jalter Volff ) on her sensors. Activating her SLAM, the strand-cast opted for speed over stealth. In the time she had spent engaged with New Imperial fighters, those bombers had managed to deal significant damage to friendly assets.

For that and far more, Electra had no intention of letting them escape.


 

B36075D4-3957-4E29-A882-A300500BFBB1.png


The Unchained

Engaging:
DECEASED Remmel Karsh DECEASED Remmel Karsh

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

newmandoban.png


Spoken Words of Venom

Death's Hand was making their move, attempting to reach the walls of FOB Belisarius before the Imperials had a chance to stop them. Accompanying those arriving by jetpack were the hordes of Taung warriors from New Mandalore, riding in transports acquired from the former members of Death Watch. Explosions rang out as they made their advance, taking out multiple transports as they pushed toward the enemy's lines. The advance was an aggressive one, as Khamul wished to get as many of his faithful into the fight as early as he could. Unfortunately, that would not end up being the case...

The Imperials had dug in deep, cementing themselves in place as if they were permanent fixtures of the planet itself. Ironic, considering that Noris would become a tomb for many of them on this day. Nevertheless, they remained defiant, their defenses slowing the advance until it reached a screeching halt. The transports got the Taung considerably close to the Imperial defensive line, yet there was still much ground to be covered. The Taung began pouring out of the transports, attempting to get clear of the obvious targets for the NIO. Khamul watched as he slowly made his own advance, keeping his eyes on his troops as they attempted pushing onward.

Suddenly, a series of explosions erupted from the ground near several of his Taung followers. It appeared that there was a minefield in between them and their prey, preventing the onslaught from being a success. Khamul found himself yelling to his troops over comms as he urged them to reposition themselves.

<<This is your Mand'alor. Those mines are going to be a problem. Pull back the advance until we can find a way through without losing all of our men. I will be arriving shortly to guide us to the wall. Until then, kill any Imperial dog in sight.>>

Those that had used their jetpacks to reach the wall turned back toward their Taung comrades, realizing that their ground support was far behind. They began laying down covering fire as the Taung warriors began to take cover within the craters formerly containing landmines, holding their position as the Demon Mandalore drew ever closer. The imperials would pay for their defiance... it was only a matter of time.

newmandoban.png

 

Xuan Vo

Guest
X



IMG_6239.png

LocationDeep Space -> Outer Orbit
EnemiesNew Imperial Order | Koda Fett Koda Fett , Ghorua the Shark Ghorua the Shark
AlliesBrotherhood of the Maw | Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen
EquipmentBlaster Pistol
ShipJagged Maw
Supporting ShipsHandful - Crucifix-II
Several Dozen - Ascendant mk-II
Fighter Screen - TIE fd/H


Klaxons blared, an alert that the Jagged Maw was preparing to emerge from hyperspace in the outer limits of Noris's orbit, but what the men and women on the bridge of the destroyer heard was the clink and clank of metal against metal bouncing off of durasteel walls and transparisteel viewports. Xuan Vo, Admiral and overall intimidating presence in her own right, made her way to the command seat that she was so rarely present in. It wasn't tactical brilliance or ruthless orders that earned her the respect that brought silence with her arrival, and it wasn't the disfigured appearance of a woman with nearly equal proportions of steel to flesh which brought her the undivided attention of the crew on her bridge, but the willingness to commit herself to every danger that she expected the people working beneath her to - the sort of thing unheard of from the generally administrative role that people in her position fell back on.

"Status?" She asked as she sat down and engaged the magnetic lock in her chair in preparation for the lurch that an emergence would bring. "We are roughly one hundred and fifty-six seconds from emerging from hyperspace, ma'am." An officer responded, to which she cleared her throat impatiently. "Really? I couldn't tell by the sirens. Tell me about the situation with Noris, Marlon Sularen Marlon Sularen will be expecting us." She said dryly, uninterested in discussing the obvious. "Sularen's large force has arrived as scheduled, pushing slowly towards the planet against its defenses. The enemy has responded as expected, keeping the initial push at bay, and the situation on the ground is still actively developing - no major headway yet." Another officer explained, shooting the previous one a questioning look - everyone else had known exactly what Xuan wanted when she had asked what she had.


"Then we'll just have to be the straw to break that bantha's back, won't we?"

Muted murmurs of agreement were put to rest by the sudden, stomach-churning, lurch of the ship - and the rest of the vessels following its - as it emerged from hyperspace behind the Task Force Momin. What had already been a sizeable invading force, one which the New Imperials had undoubtedly predicted would come for Noris, was now far beyond the scope of a simple occupying force - or even the sort that would have been necessary to glass the planet, were that the goal. Combined with the task force led by the grand overseer this was the largest naval force the Maw had ever committed to a single point of interest.

And they had come to erase the Imperial presence, and all else, on Noris.

 
Last edited by a moderator:


IMG_6239.png


SPACEPORT
NORIS
ALLIES Ghorua the Shark Ghorua the Shark
ENEMIES Xuan Vo

Neither the Mandalorian nor the Shark rushed for the frontlines, an abundance of men and women that wished to see themselves dead had devoted themselves to that section of this battlefield. He remained within the confines of the defended structure, as if to await further orders from command or a chance to earn his credits - if not more so than the initial amount offered on the contract. It was in a wordless motion that Fett sent his attention towards the crowded skies overhead; vessels flooded in from the void, so soon to see their success claimed if no disturbance was to come to them.

He was a bold man, to say the least.

"Ghorua," his modulated voice called for the attention of the Shark. He dismounted from his lean on the wall and stood firm on his own two feet, his blaster held in one hand and rested on his shoulder, the barrel aimed skybound. "Here, there's little for us to do and should that shield fail, I have no intention to remain beneath it."

It was a helmeted nod that flashed towards the Brotherhood crafts in the atmosphere that followed. "Say we board one of them, take it out from the inside. Should earn us double our rate, more so if it then falls into another."

No small amount of amusement missed Fett once the idea came to him. His vessel was crafted by the former Sith Emperor himself, and now came the chance to use it on this new lot of Sith. He had not faced them before, but all men died the same. Jedi and Sith, both the same with a set of different colours and similar tricks.

"Your craft combat rated?" He already began to motion towards the hangar.

If not, it was a tight squeeze for a Herglic in the Spear III.

 

W O K E N F U R I E S

7rSdes1.gif


AT NORIS, NEAR PRIMUS
NO MAN'S LAND


ALLIES: MAW & ALLIES
ENEMIES:
NIO & ALLIES

Equipment in bio.

ENGAGING: Kinoan Kinoan

bAS78iR.png


DEFIANCE AND UPHEAVAL
A formless unit of marauders lingered in and around the bloodstained trench Ptolemis had captured only minutes prior. Maniacal gazes sliced through to him. Listening restlessly. Their bodies covered in layers of mud and dust. Ready to devastate.

The scant Moon Children from before had either swarmed ahead to their deaths or have perished in the ditch; but for now, this position provided ample shelter from the aerial assault launched by the Maw. The palpable shockwaves caused by the whistling projectiles from above shook the very earth they stood on. The corrupted Fondorian was lost in his vortex of thoughts, musing over the destruction. He felt calm as he looked up at the sky. Almost detached from the carnage. He knew well his function in this setting; he was to cause havoc and attempt to circle around the FOB, looking for any and all weak points in the enemy's defense. Nothing else. He had no illusions of grandeur. That came later.

He could only complete this task with a token force, otherwise they would draw too much attention. He stood up on the surface, at the edge of the trench. Gravel rolled down into the ditch as his feet dug into the ground softened by imperial blood. Right as he was gazing afar, following a winding line of white-and-grey smoke, his eyes landed on something rather peculiar. He raised his chin, a slight expression of surprise.

A lightsaber-wielding protector of Primus, awash in a hue of brilliant gold. Clad in garments that were characteristic of trained Force users, yet also donning plates of armor, including a feature that immediately drew a similarity between the two – a coefficient far too few utilize. The golden protector was also wearing a mask.

Ptolemis' solid beam lightsaber painted red the barbarian soldiers encircling him as the Sith's unchanging pseudo-face traversed from one warrior to the next. In this fleeting respite, he gave them a new order.
– You… You. – He pointed at two large brutes with his free hand. – And you three. – He swiped vaguely in the air towards three additional marauders outfitted with heavy repeaters. – You dig in and when I tell you, you provide suppressive fire from this position. The rest, gather any useful equipment from these crates and report to either The Mongrel The Mongrel or the Mand'alor, Khamul Kryze Khamul Kryze . Go.

As the dozen-or-so marauders sifted through imperial remains, Ptolemis hopped effortlessly over the trench and began walking toward the white Knight and his company of troopers. The five entrenched marauders he selected took up positions and took aim at the advancing stormtroopers, but were still prohibited from firing. By the time Ptolemis came within hearing distance of his opponent, the rest of the marauder detachment behind him had already withdrawn toward the Warlords.

The shadowy figure that was the Unholy Lord Ptolemis eventually stopped, in the middle of a vast field, surrounded by numerous corpses of Moon Children. He channeled the Bogan itself and amplified his
already bone-chilling voice to inhuman volume levels. Guttural waves of dread belched out toward his opponent to envelop him and his group of soldiers in a noose of crippling anxiety.

DO NOT BE BLINDED BY HONOR, IMPERIAL.

TURN BACK. OR BECOME ASH AMONG DIRT.
 


IMG_6239.png

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

Ghorua stared out over the battlefield, silent as he heard the muted din of battle in the distance. The constant rumbling of artillery fire and bombs upset the earth beneath their feet, and the distant zaps of blaster fire were a constant reminder that a gory, bloody affair was happening somewhere else.

He wondered just how many young mercenaries and bounty hunters were out there now, getting more than they bargained for. But that was the reality of their trade.

They had to learn sometime. Or die learning.

The Shark turned quizzically to Fett as he straightened.


"Say we board one of them, take it out from the inside. Should earn us double our rate, more so if it then falls into another."

Many thoughts played behind the veteran hunter's eyes, clear to see to Koda. First was disbelief, then calculation, then a slowly-growing sharp smile, serrated teeth gleaming. "To do that, why, we'd need two of the craziest bounty hunters in the galaxy." he said, voice rumbling. "Now, where are we ever going to find those?"

Ghorua placed his helmet on his head with a k-thk, and strode towards the hangar, his wide steps carrying him to the Jawsome. "She'll do," he replied to Koda as he stepped up his boarding ramp, and into his ship. After a few seconds, the Herglic Yacht was airborne, maneuvering away from the cloud of Maw ships above, using the cleared evacuation route to come at the Sith fleet from a sideways angle.

The Shark shot a message to Fett over their comms. "What's the plan? We wanna crack open a hangar?"

 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom