Annihilation The Imperial March

[Kordé]

Korde's nerves were strung tight, fear shooting up her throat, limbs, thoughts as fast as the planet filling up the viewport.

She shouted at Veno, "Told you fifty times I can't fly this thing — your pea brain don't get it." She hated him, hated the masked man too. But she wasn't going back to Imperial lockup. No way.​

Veno Subject 1503

 

[Veno]

Jostled forwards, he groaned and hissed something low out from beneath the menacing visage of his helmet. "Get," started Veno, grabbing at Kordé's hair and dragging her from the seat, "Out!"

He jumped in, replacing her behind the stick. Veno was no ace but with the difference between him and her, maybe he was. Veno pulled up on the stick, narrowly flying past a debris field that clipped one of the wings. Their descent was swiftly becoming a guided crash, more so than any sorry excuse for a landing.

"I hope you die in the crash..."

Kordé - Subject 1503

 

[Kordé]

Korde yelped as Veno dragged her by the hair off the seat, flailing limbs against the creature's nervy intrusion. Veno slid into her seat, leaving her now to untangle her hair, watching him with daggers in her eyes.

She said, "You little piece of chit," and thoughtlessly wrapped her arms around Veno's neck from behind, choking him, "You're dying with me."

Veno Subject 1503 ​

 

[Kylass Starhaven]

(OOC: Posting this via phone, sorry for not properly tagging everyone. Will make this prettier when I get home from the Office)

Barely a moment after the Son of the Sword, Kyric , had felled the Imperial Legionnaire another swarm of blasterfire scorched its way towards them. Kylass flexed her open palm to push out with the Force and shunt Kyric away from her, as at the same time she ignited her lightsaber’s yellow blade and swung it in a swiping flurry. The first rounds of crimson bolts were caught and batted back into the thick of advancing Legionnaires.

But quickly more came, Kylass concentrated her focus on the blurring whirl of red streaks of blasterfire, moving her mind into a battle focus where the Force could guide her reflexes in a strict Shien form. She didn’t have the space to turn and thank Kyric properly so she called to him, shouting over the din of ricocheting blasterfire, thunder of explosions, and the roar of voices both dying and fighting.

“Ahead is the Honeycomb District!” Kylass called to Kyric. “The rift above! They’re sending forces in to kill the power systems for the shielding! We have to stop them! Inform the rest of us! Go!”

One last flourish of Shien deflecting cuts sliced across the air in front of Kylass, and in the brief gasp between blasterfire, she rushed the Force down her body and into a long, forward leap. The Arkanian Lightsworn Jedi lunged onto the hood of a landspeeder and immediately crouched into another, higher jump. Burst of the Force from her feet launched her in a soaring flip that landed her on the tiled and slanted roof of a terraced dwelling.

Still crouching, Kylass minimized her profile against the roof and crept along the roof’s extended awnings. Another voice chimed in to the chorus of battle, this time from her wrist commlink, embedded into her vambrace. She recognized the voice, it was Zark San Tekka .

“I’m engaging forces being deployed by a Force Rift in the Honeycomb District,” said Kylass, raising her vambrace to speak into the commlink. “They’re going after the power systems for the shielding. I’ll--” Kylass stopped as the Force screamed a forewarning into her busy, calculating mind.

An Imperial Dropship ripped into the highrises in front of her and cleaved it into shredding spray of debris. Kylass threw both her hands ahead of her and quickly summoned Force into a forward shield.

Chunks of concrete, shrapnel, and lashing debris pounded into the wall of packed air and ebbing power. Some of the ruin shattered upon impact, exploding into deflected pieces, flung at high speed and tearing apart the tiles of the roof around her. Others pummelled the shield and made Kylass buckle in her grip on the Force. Then came an avalanche of smoke churning within a choking mist of pulverized debris and rubble.

By the time Kylass had gotten through the powdered mist of destruction she came upon a dark woman ( Sahar ) cutting down a ring of Atrisian Police Forces with her blade held high.

Kylass burst out in a sprint down the rest of the roof and threw her ignited saber in a Force propelled arc. The yellow blade swirled in a disc of burning plasma, curving down in a long arch to block the Dark Sider’s next swing.

Meanwhile, Kylass jumped down to the cratered crash site of the drop pod. In landing flip, she called her blade back to her as her feet impaled the broken ground, armored by the Force to brace the landing. Kylass rose slowly, her silvery eyes, narrow, focused and gleaming like polished steel of an unsheathed blade.

“Your fight is with me, Dark One,” said Kylass. “And it shall be short lived.”

 

[Corin Kaze]

He answered Zark San Tekka with a firm, "Understood."

This mounted defense was the job of dead-men, aimed to be little more than a bump in the road. Time for the others to collect their bearings, to shore up their own defenses and repel the attackers before another swarm of Imperials could rush in and overwhelm them. Part of Corin considered it a challenge, as if flashes from the past spread through him. The solemn expression plastered across his features, however, remained.

"Deploy the walkers to the spire," Corin said to Laphisto over the shared commlink, "The shield generators are the core of their assault."

The Imperial advance would soon begin down the bridge, with the final touches coming together from the Lightsworn soldiers on the bridge. Armed with their own extensive, albeit hastily put together arsenal. Hearing that voice echo out across the bridge, Corin sucked at the back of his teeth with his tongue. That feeling of a challenge resurfaced, and now he wanted to answer. Needed to.

"Let's put this thing to use," he mumbled, with the Force swelling up, around, and into the cloth that once belonged to Ryv Karis. Practice with a piece of clothing that allowed for localized hyperspace travel was difficult in of itself, though it all had a purpose. Corin disappeared from one side of the bridge, reappearing on the other, in amongst the Mawite lines to wreak havoc.

TL;DR

• OK ZARK
• LAPHISTO PLS SEND WALKERS TO SPIRE BUT I'M NOT YOUR BOSS
• THANK YOU HONOURABLE WARRIOR RYV KARIS IM USING THIS HYPERSPACE PONCHO TO TELEPORT AND AURA FARM INTO THE MAWITE LINES ON SOME HERO V HORDE

St. Thomas Barran - Jand Talo

 

[Veno]

"Stop," Veno wheezed out, faintly. "Stop choking me!"

His grip tightened on the stick, half-standing in some bid to maintain control and keep some air in his lungs. Thankfully, Kordé was rather weak all things considered. He threw his helmeted head forwards, then backwards and clipped her chin in the process. But, even with Veno regaining some semblance of control over the crashing shuttle, it was too late.

Snowfields had risen up to meet the viewport. Veno yanked on the stick, prying it so far back he thought it may well break. Belly-first, the shuttle crashed and kicked up a wave of white powder as both wings were torn free. It came to a slow, eventual stop and Veno sighed in relief.

Kordé - Subject 1503

 

[Kordé]

Korde cracked her eyes open and found an ugly, curved vibrodagger aimed dead between them; behind it, Veno’s uglier, helmeted face.

She froze, throat tight, eyes wide shuffling between the blade and its wielder. All she could get out was a weak, "I, Uh… sorry?"

Veno Subject 1503 ​

 

[Franceline Dawer]

"No one is going to want to be in the open when they arrive."

The man's appeal barely pierced her own thoughts. It was enough to get her to turn her head and look at him, but it was difficult for the man to read her glazed vacant eyes, which sat idle in their creased bloodied nests.

Mindlessly, her hands reawakened to clip the crates she had been carrying onto her belt, and afterward, they reached upwards to lock around his which he had extended, grabbing on tightly. Tightly for her of course, meant barely - and he could feel that she was running out of energy just by the pressure of her touch.

Her head also did not follow her actions, staying fixed in the position which it had assumed to stare at him.

---

Defenders
Junko Ike Aiden Porte Pal Veda Zark San Tekka

Allies
Kasan Osera Daro Kilaeon

Target tag:
Junko Ike

 

[Omega Squad]

​

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

They moved like a rumor through the burning teeth of Jar’kai — fragments of shadow and metal that the Empire could not name until the noise stopped and the world went quiet in the wrong way. Omega Squad did not announce itself. It unstitched the city’s arteries: supply routes, firing lanes, the nervous system of the Imperial push. Wherever the Empire relied on geometry and momentum, the Squad trusted improvisation and teeth.

Lt. Commander Bren Alazar (Code name “Michael”) was a shape at the edge of sight: not a lead from the front but a gun at the seam. He did not shout orders; he rearranged the fight. One hand flattened a ruined crate and a fighter pilot found his line of fire misaligned by a hair — by a thought — and his salvo dove harmlessly into a collapsed façade. For those allied that saw them, the team’s presence smoothed panic into purpose. Men and droids who’d been about to run toward the spire instead found new objectives, moved by a certainty that had nothing to do with the comms and everything to do with them.

Bren Alazar moved like a metronome of violence. He threaded the Squad’s tempo: hit, shadow, withdraw. Under his direction the team became a dispersed blade. A tank column that had stampeded into a picket line found the road itself folding: hidden charges detonated beneath treads, fuel lines became rivers of flame that ate the metal from the inside. Wheels collapsed; the forward vehicle pitched and became a furnace. The column behind it stalled, organized chaos curdling to silence as Omega’s ghosts stepped out of the smoke to strip away targeting arrays and seed confusion.

Gabriel slipped through the same battlefield as if it were code. Where the Imperials trusted circuits he trusted gaps. He plugged a thin, improvised splice into a comm box and the morning’s locator pings turned traitor — friend-queries bled into false coordinates, turret controls received phantom authorization to stand down, artillery tracers bloomed wide of their marks. From the far side of a courtyard a radio screamed a report that dissolved into static mid-syllable; the voice stopped short and then the silence took on a new weight. Gabriel watched the lights blink on his rig and smiled like someone watching rain fall into a bowl he had tipped under the downpour.

Sariel had no patience for anything but distance and certainty. From a rooftop that had once been a nursery she took measure of a squad that would have called itself secure and wrote their fate in a breath of lead. Her shots weren’t noisy heroics; they were punctuation marks that made command consoles rethink the idea of safety. A three-man sniper team called in relief and only one voice ever came back: a scream that cracked into nothing because the air itself had been altered by a round that found the optic node. The rest of the street learned a lesson in the language of absence.

Azrael treated explosives like an argument he wanted to win with a grin. He danced among crates of munitions, setting delayed, surgical anger beneath bridges and inside fuel convoys. When he detonated, it was not a vanity blast but choreography: an ambush of collapsing cover, an array of secondary conflagrations that hid their footprints. He laughed without sound — a visceral, delighted thing — as columns of Imperial troops reeled and reformed into smaller, vulnerable shapes.

Jeremiel filled every gap with capability. He drove a commandeered APC through a flank, not to crash but to carve: smoke screens, improvised armor, a web of suppression fire that sent whole platoons panicked and exposed. He moved as a machine of options, patching a mortar team into power for a moment, then turning that same feed to jam the enemy’s data relay. Where others specialized, Jeremiel was the utility that made specialization lethal.

Raguel was a thing the city could not remember having seen. Shi’do physiology gave her an edge of silence and a body that could fold into narrow places; she became a shadow in a maintenance crawlspace, a whisper beneath a tank’s belly. She cut hydraulic lines and kissed alarm contacts with the lightest of scalpel hands. An entire patrol line found its comm-link dead and its leader suddenly stilled, staring at his console like a man who had lost an argument with his own senses. The patrol dissolved before it could respond. Raguel slipped away and the metal tasted of a new, clean absence.

None of them sought spectacle. Their work was surgical — a map of absence carved into Imperial logistics. The city’s defenders looked up and found the Empire’s edges ragged where there had been certainty an hour before. Pickets that had been confident anchors became islands of flares and smoke. Columns stalled in choke-points that were suddenly boiling. Where the Empire expected to flow, it clogged; where it expected momentum, it met ghosts.

The city smelled of smoke and charged metal. Above them, the Death Star’s armature thrummed through comm channels like a far-off drum. The ritual’s pull was a thing they felt in their teeth — a subtle, corrosive hunger in the air that wanted fear and pain as fuel. Omega did not give it that. Every static-filled radio they cut, every armored flank they burned, every artillery emplacement they drew to ruin was a small, stubborn rejection. They were not naïve: slowing fate was not the same as stopping it. But they were craftsmen at buying seconds. Seconds were pressure points; seconds became corridors for evacuated civilians, for retreating lightsiders, for a small cluster of cadets to slip through and live to fight another dusk.

When a group of Imperial shooters took shelter beneath a bridge, believing their field of fire secure, the bridge’s supports became a throat of smoke and sparks. Azrael’s timed charges ate through rebar and server racks alike; Gabriel’s spoofed signals had already sent the platoon’s remote sensors yawing toward phantom targets. The shooters rose, disoriented, and Sariel answered from three rooftops away. Her shots folded the bridge into silence. The bridge kept its shape, but the Empire lost the promise of holding it.

At the end of long arcs of fire and short, hot confrontations, the Squad did what they had always done: they melted back into the city, into alleys, into maintenance ducts. They left behind a war made jagged and slow where it had hoped for smooth domination. They left scorched rectangles of asphalt and smoking hulk-skeletons and the silence of radios that suddenly could not be trusted.

Michael paused atop a charred stairwell and watched them vanish — not with the possessive pride of a commander but with the heavy, careful gratitude of someone who understood what had been asked of them. Their faces, for the briefest flash between shadows, reflected him back: steady, lit by the same uncompromising purpose. He felt the Death Star’s shadow again, like cold oil at the lip of a well. He tightened his hand once around the haft at his back and then they were gone, a rumor that had become a wound in the Empire’s plans.

For the survivors in the city, the story would be told in different ways: a burning tank column, a sniper’s scream cut off like a sentence, a supply depot that simply failed to answer its orders. For Omega Squad, it was another night bought for someone else to breathe. The Death Star hummed on and the world tilted, but in the ruined arteries of Jar’kai surgical rebellions had been sown — precise fractures that, for now, bled the great machine of empire and left the ritual’s greedy hunger a little thinner than it had been at dawn. If they live through this…


The Galactic Empire will regret being born.

Spoiler: TLDR

Omega Squad is blowing GE Imperial (Censored) up in the background.
NOTE- This is NOT meant to distract or destroy any narratives, just an IC document of them being on the ground. If there are any issues, please do not hesitate to Dm Connel Vanagor as I do not always look at this account. Feel free to address anything here, and if you wish to tag the team, go right ahead.

Otherwise, this is nothing more than a background post.

TAGS: @

 

[Laphisto]

Crator Fangs. 1st Company Cora​

Laphisto fired down from the battlement, forcing back a wave of enemy soldiers until a burst of heavy fire smashed into the wall near his position. He ducked back quickly, comms alive with overlapping chatter.

To his right, one of the troopers shouted, "Slugs empty, switching to power cell!" He popped back up over the parapet, blaster raised, and Laphisto did the same. That's when he caught the patternenemy shields weren't breaking, they were adapting. Blaster fire phased through for a time, but the flare of distortion showed they were recalibrating.

Adaptive shielding. Not perfect, but dangerous if left unchecked. He tapped into the company-wide channel, voice sharp and even."All units, switch to plasma. Their shields are adaptive keep hitting them until you see the flare, then swap back to slugs while they're resetting. Rotate your fire."He switched channels without pause. "Gunships One and Two, pull back to the Tracyn. Resupply and bring us more slug rounds double loads."

The Fangs moved fast on the order. Weapons changed over, firing shifted rhythm, and the company's line of fire became more controlled. The wall shook under the incoming barrage, but the return fire cut through with precision, keeping the enemy pinned and forcing their shields to cycle under the strain.

---

Storm Vultures 2nd company Dark Forces Corin Kaze Rolin Voss St. Thomas Barran​

As Rolin Voss confirmed over comms, Hammer One rounded the corner, its autocannons thundering. High-explosive rounds ripped into Imperial infantry, each detonation scattering troops and cutting gaps into their line. Hammer one switched to the shared channel, his tone clipped and clear "Copy that, Alliance armor. Lilaste Order heavy walkers are holding one end of the bridge for civilian extraction, but the opposite side is already under Imperial control. If we can push your armor through to our position, we can reinforce and lock down the approach before they overrun it."

As the tanks advanced, the ground shook with the steady stride of Lilaste light walkers. Eight machines four to each flank of the column moved in beside the armor, their cannons rotating across the kill zone. Together, they formed a wedge pushing toward the bridge, a combined wall of steel meant to force open the corridor long enough to bring the Alliance armor to reinforce the extraction point.

St. Thomas Barran
The plan was simple: land on the east side of the bridge and set up artillery support for the GA and Lilaste Order forces. But plans rarely survived first contact, and this one fell apart almost immediately.The first LAET/C gunship dove low, engines straining as it descended toward the drop zone. Before it could offload its artillery walker, a wall of anti-air fire lit up the sky. Rockets screamed in from multiple angles, overwhelming the gunship's shields in seconds. The pilot tried to veer clear, but the craft took a direct hit, veering off course and slamming into the side of a nearby building. In the chaos, the walker detached mid-drop, tumbling into the wreckage.

Static and shouting filled the comms: "Mayday, mayday! Enemy forces on the east side of the bridge expansion ward is compromised! Repeat, expansion ward compromised!"The remaining three gunships broke formation immediately, pulling up hard to escape the kill zone. Trails of flak burst behind them as they climbed, pilots already searching for another approach to get their walker detachment on the ground without suffering the same fate.

Corin Kaze Zark San Tekka Vulpesen Michael Barran St. Thomas Barran
The call for walker support from Corin hit the net; a reply came back sharp and steady."Copy that, Alliance command. This is Iron Fang, Lilaste Walker Division. Rerouting four heavy and eight light walkers to the base of the spire. ETA ten minutes. We're marching down the main road can't miss us."

From the twelve AT-AE MKIII walkers that had formed the defensive ring on the western flank of the bridge, four broke formation. They lowered stabilizers, unclipped their transport harnesses, and deployed AT-ASMKII support walkers, then peeled off and accelerated toward the east approach. The remaining machines closed ranks to replace the gap, tightening the semi-circle and reducing lanes for enemy infil.

The column moved with purpose along the cleared corridor toward the spire.Two of the heavy walkers carried E.M.D.C cannons and two had LO-24/AT turret heads; light walkers provided escort, point defense, and close-in suppression. Over the company channel the lead pilot checked in, low and direct: "Give us targets and we'll fill them full of lead." The formation maintained discipline as they advanced heavy guns ready to unmask for counter battery and suppression, light walkers prepared to screen infantry and sweep for close threats on approach.

The main force came under heavy fire from the east side of the bridge. Enemy positions were obscured; sightlines were broken and the shooters were well-concealed. Without precise coordinates, gunners targeted likely cover tower emplacements, ruined buildings, and choke points alternating HEAT and APBC rounds to strip enemy armor and blast through makeshift defenses.

Infantry began assembling barricades and emplacing LGM nests across the approach to slow any crossing attempts. Men worked fast under incoming fire, throwing up metal roadblocks, cutting rebar, and dragging rubble into lanes while automatic weapons swept the space in front of the wall.

On the shared GA/Lilaste channel the platoon lieutenant called in an urgent report:
"Lilaste Order holding west side of the bridge. Enemy concentrated in Expansion Ward on the east taking heavy, accurate fire. We can't locate all firing positions; we're engaging towers and likely hide sites but rounds are impacting our northern edge. They're trying to create a breach. Request immediate infantry reinforcement to hold the line if that wall comes down, forces on the east will overwhelm us."

He repeated critical details: bearing of heaviest impacts, estimated rate of fire, and the status of manpower at each sector. Squad leaders acknowledged and adjusted sectors of fire, but the message was clear they needed boots on the ground now or the line would be at risk.

---

Ash dogs 3rd Company

Gardens Cinder maw platoon Lorn Reingard Bastila Sal-Soren Dark Forces​

As the mortars self destructed, the gunship laying down suppressive fire abruptly banked away from the gardens. It circled twice, weapons still hot, before breaking off to provide support in another sector of the city. "Smoke is too thick. Thermals and infrared are useless. Air support is unavailable in the gardens. Good hunting, Cinder Maw." With that, the gunship was gone, leaving the task to the ground troops.

The men of Cinder Maw advanced into the garden complex, shields flashing as flames washed across their armor or as falling debris struck from above. They moved in disciplined sweeps, weapons covering every angle. The dense smoke made visibility nearly zero, but their sealed suits kept the hazard in check no fear of choking, no distraction from the fire. Each squad pressed deeper, methodically clearing paths, searching for hidden enemy positions that had turned the gardens into a kill zone.

One of the Lilaste soldiers broke from cover, sprinting toward the burning structure where civilians were trapped. He cut straight for the irrigation channel, desperate to cross. A gauntleted hand snapped onto the back of his neck plate, wrenching him to a stop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Private?" the sergeant barked, spinning him around so hard that Jharns nearly lost his footing. The two of them stood exposed on the lip of the channel, smoke and fire curling just behind them."We have to save those civilians! They're right there if we don't move now they'll burn!" Jharns shot back, trying to twist free.

The sergeant shoved a finger into his chest plate. "And we'll just die with them if we charge blind. The Imperials are out here still. We find and eliminate the threat first—then we pull civilians. That's the priority. The faster we clear this—" The words cut off in an instant. A dark shape lunged from the channel, seizing the sergeant by the shoulders and yanking him into the water before Jharns could react. He fired wildly, muzzle flashes ripping through the haze, but another pair of hands burst from the trench and clamped onto him.

Jharns let out a hoarse scream as he was dragged forward, firing down into the channel. Muffled shouts echoed, then the water frothed red. Both men were pulled under by enemy troopers lying in wait beneath the irrigation system knives flashing in the murk, armored hands forcing them down until the struggle went still.When the smoke parted for a heartbeat, only ripples remained where the sergeant and private had been.

Two soldiers rounded a scorched hedgerow and stopped when they spotted Lorn Reingard and Bastila Sal-Soren approaching. Both kept rifles at port arms, alert but not firing. The garden smoke cut visibility, but the pair were unmistakable even at a distance.


One of the soldiers stepped forward, voice low and clipped. "Master Jedi. Corporal Selren, Lilaste Order. Civilians trapped in the burning pavilion across the irrigation channel. Enemy infantry entrenched between us and them." He jabbed a thumb toward the waterline where the channel ran under the walkways. "We can suppress the enemy, but we'll need help getting the civilians out while we clear the trench."

Theater scorch Fang Vulpesen Junko Ike Aiden Porte Aknoby​

The lieutenant and his men surged forward, rifles hammering, slug after slug smashing into armor and shields. They were closing fast, trying to angle in on the enemy and cut a crossfire before the civilians in the theater choked on the spreading gas.

But in their focus, they missed the rooftops.Lieutenant Corric was the first to pay for it. A sharp crack-hiss split the air, and a focused lance of crimson energy punched down from above. His shields caught the bolt the grid flaring brilliantly as it dispersed the heatbut the sheer kinetic transfer of the blast was brutal. It slammed into him like a hammer blow to the skull.

The shot snapped his head back, his boots left the ground, and he went sprawling onto the duracrete. His HUD fritzed, vision fragmenting in flashes of red and static. If not for the energy modulation of his barrier, he'd be dead. As it was, the raw force left him dazed and gasping, ears ringing inside his helmet.

"Snipers!" a trooper yelled, dragging the lieutenant behind an overturned barrier. More beams scythed down from the high windows, precise and punishing. Every shot that struck cover sent sparks and shrapnel spinning. Shields flared bright and failed under the pressure. The squad was forced low, their momentum broken, pinned under disciplined fire from above.

Corric groaned, forcing himself upright against the wall. The blast hadn't burned through his defenses but he'd felt how close it had come. And the next volley would be less forgiving if they didn't break those snipers fast.

With a groggy groan, Lieutenant Corric forced himself upright, HUD flickering as he checked his shield grid. The sniper bolt had punched through and drained it down to thirty percent capacity. Any more hits like that and his defenses would collapse entirely. His vision was still a smear of color and static, but the sound of rifles cracking around him grounded his senses his men were still fighting, still pressing slug fire downrange to keep the enemy suppressed.

From his left, his second shouted over the commotion. "We can't hit those snipers! We're pinned down hard!"Corric blinked against the haze, forcing clarity back into his eyes. He shook his head sharply, biting back the nausea, and pressed his back against the wall. A long exhale steadied him. The situation was slipping, and he knew it. Thumbing his commlink, he barked into the net. "This is Scorth Fang command! We're pinned in the theater districtsnipers have us locked down, repeat, we're locked down! Civilians inside the theater are choking on gas, and we can't reach them!"

Another volley of blaster fire cracked overhead, scorching the stonework where his helmet had been moments before. The squad huddled tighter behind their cover, shields flickering under the strain. Corric slammed a fresh power cell into his rifle, grit his teeth, and forced strength into his voice despite the ache still ringing in his skull. "Requesting immediate fire support! Suppress those snipers or we're dead down here!" His men looked to him through their visors, waiting. They were boxed in, bleeding seconds, but still holding. All they needed was the opening.

---

Nightclaws 4th Company Saul Whesai​

"Nightclaw command, this is Dagger One. We've just touched down and are en route. ETA thirty minutes. Keep pressure up — we'll try to reinforce your position as soon as we can. Over and out."Channel traffic on the Nightclaws net was short and direct: possible enemy leadership locations, confirmations, and clean kill reports. Snipers slung LO-20D rigs in long-range configuration and scanned for high-value targets while the squad held positions.

A clipped transmission from the platoon lieutenant interrupted the feed.
"Grimhiss be advised: enemy counter-units are moving on Dread Step. They're locked onto the ridge. Move to reinforce and ensure that position isn't compromised." Comms went quiet after the warning, the order hanging in the net as the Nightclaws maintained radio discipline and waited for Dagger One's ETA.

 

[Ronhar Tane]

CAPTAIN RONHAR TANE, TK-3301
OBJECTIVE I: THE IMPERIAL MATCH
ATRISIA

"Don't stop now, men! We've almost made it!"

Ronhar urged the forces under his command forward as Reclaimer Squad came up upon its primary mission objective: the so-called "Great Walls" of Jar'kai. For the moment, the city's defenses seemed relatively intact, or at least the portion that Ronhar was viewing. Of course, if he and his men didn't get up there soon along with the rest of the Imperial Remnant's reinforcements, that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

As Ronhar made his way to the base of the walls themselves, he passed by a quartet of AT-MAPs and their crews, firing with reckless abandon at targets kilometers away. Ronhar marveled at the cannons that these walkers carried, and he thought that he certainly wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of whatever it was they were firing at the moment.

"Let's go! Grappling hooks at the ready!"

Each man in Reclaimer Squad was equipped with a Fibercord Grappling Hook that was equipped to their Whipcord Launchers. This would allow the squad to rapidly scale the walls without needing to find the access points scattered across the city. Before they could do so and get atop the walls however, they were interrupted by what seemed to be falling debris. Of course, the objects that were about to fall on top of them were no mere pieces of debris...

"INCOMING! FROM THE SKY!"

Ronhar and his men barely had enough time to get out of the way as a number of drop pods came crashing down on their position. One of them slammed directly into an AT-MAP, severing its cannon barrel in two and pinning it to the ground. Enemy Stormtroopers began pouring out of them and started to engage Ronhar, Reclaimer Squad and the Junktroopers guarding the artillery walkers. Bolts of energy streaked passed Ronhar's head as the enemy troops were caught in the middle of his forces and the Junktroopers, blaster fire coming in and out from both directions.

After a few hectic minutes, it was all over, and scores of Stormtrooper laid dead of the feet of Ronhar and his men. They had, however, inflicted heavy damage on the walkers, destroying one outright and severely damaging another to the point where it was forced to retreat toward the city's center. The remaining two walkers resuming firing over the city walls, sending bursts of plasma sailing overhead.

"Plasma Cannons, huh?", Ronhar said to himself as he re-readied his grappling hook for the second the time. The rest of his men did the same, pointed them toward the edge of the walls, and-

WHOOSH!

With their grappling hooks atop the wall and firmly secured to their anchor points, Ronhar and his men began climbing up the walls as quickly as they possibly could. After another few minutes, they had successfully made it to the top. Some Junktroopers had already taken defensive positions, setting up heavy weapons or commandeering the weapon emplacements already built into the city's defenses.

"Here's the plan", Ronhar stated to the members of Reclaimer Squad. "We hold this position for as long as we need to. Reinforcements are arriving in T-Minus 2 hours, so we need to make sure they have safe landing inside the city limits."

That was especially true for the Von Strauss-class cargo ships, which wouldn't last long if the city's anti-air defenses were captured by the Galactic Empire. Ronhar would do everything in his power to make sure that didn't happen.

"Let's move!", Ronhar cried out as Reclaimer Squad began taking defensive positions of their own alongside the Imperial Remnant forces already present.

As far as Ronhar could tell, it was going to be a long wait, regardless of how much time actually passed...

TAGS:
Kroeger
OPEN

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby gritted his teeth in anger, snipers. He snorted as he turned on his armor radio.

"Lieutenant Corric, keep the snipers distracted, I'll take care of them. Going silent on the radio."

He turned off the radio without waiting for a response, and probably a scolding.

He took a deep breath and slowed his breathing, as slow as he could to breathe better and be stealthy.

He checked the nearest sniper from his hiding spot; he would have to take a long route. Leaving the theater, he entered through the rubble of a building and climbed up the interior, jumping from one building's window to another and repeating the process until he finally reached where the sniper and the observer were, at least the first pair. He saw the ammunition box and the personal ammunition they both carried. This was going to be ugly. He gritted his teeth. Controlling electricity, even though it wasn't Force Lighting, always hurt his fingers a little, but it worked. The ammunition exploded just as the sniper was about to fire another energy cell into his rifle, and considering the cells on both of their belts and the pistols, it seriously injured them, if not killed them.

In an act of mercy, Aknoby took his pistol and ended each of their suffering with shots to the head, then hid again and counted: 4.55 snipers remaining, two of them in the same building.

He muttered something in Chiss, funny how despite his amnesia he still remembered his native language. He took a deep breath and moved stealthily, looking at the next pair of shooters and lookouts and seeing the rubble of a taller building behind them.
He wondered whether he should be cruel or not, but the fact that civilians were being attacked in addition to Lilaste soldiers helped him knock down part of the rubble on the pair so he could focus on the next one. Moving more carefully now, the spotters divided their time between looking for whoever was sabotaging them and probably calling a field medic for the buried pair.

Seeing no other way out, he did something risky. concentrating the Force in his own body, improving his senses and reflexes, and also spreading it across the golden blade of his lightsaber, momentarily reinforcing it.
He took a deep breath and moved quickly, combining Ataru and Shiem, reflecting the first shot against the spotter and the second against the shooter, then hiding again to catch his breath. then he sensed something, three points of darkness moving in his direction, three Siths.

The Phantom within him finally moved, bringing back memories. The young Chiss moved quickly, throwing debris without aiming in the direction of the last snipers, forcing them to hide and stop shooting, giving the soldiers on the ground time to organize themselves.

He stopped on a roof and waited for the three Siths.


Vulpesen Junko Ike Aiden Porte Dark Forces

 

[Zark San Tekka]

THE SPIRE
JAR'KAI
Kasan Osera Kylass Starhaven Corin Kaze Ko Vuto Laphisto
Briana Sal-Soren Franceline Dawer St. Thomas Barran Aiden Porte Daro Kilaeon

​

Master Zark's leering oni mask sulked behind a pair of macrobinoculars. He swept them across the burning city only pausing to crank up the zoom when he reached the expansion ward bridge gate. Movement on the far side betrayed a steady buildup of hostile activity. Sweeping back towards the inner walls revealed a starbird pendant still flying in defiance.

"Imperial irregulars preparing to move on the bridge. Kaze, things might be about to get interesting. Think you can handle it?"

An explosion below drew the Jedi's shriek-hawk gaze directly under his feet. Ion missiles impacted the first AT-TE walker mid descent to devastating effect. It was a brilliant counterstrike except the Imperials had not yet taken into account what would happen after their magnetic clamps failed. Each armored behemoth disabled converted itself into a crude but effective dumb fire missile.

His attention had been drawn by the first walker's fuel tanks exploding on impact just outside the Spire even as Imperial stormtroopers pushed up to flood the ground levels. Indiscriminate destruction rained down on Atrisian and invader alike. Thick black engine smoke obscured the first mass driver shells delivered from those few walkers still trudging down into extreme weapon range.

The call for walker support from Corin hit the net; a reply came back sharp and steady."Copy that, Alliance command. This is Iron Fang, Lilaste Walker Division. Rerouting four heavy and eight light walkers to the base of the spire. ETA ten minutes. We're marching down the main road can't miss us."

"The Force provides, Iron Fang. Be advised there are Imperial anti-walker teams setting up for ambush on your approach. Good hunting."

Confused reports from the gardens drew San Tekka back from the Spire's ledge. Bloody scars afflicted the green holoimage of Jar'Kai representing estimates of Imperial troop movements. Death by a thousand cuts. Despite impressive technology and fanatical loyalty he needed to keep the pressure on so that Atrisia wouldn't bleed out from sheer attrition. He was about to transmit another message to Ko Vuto asking for a status update when far graver news captured the Jedi Master's attention.

“I’m engaging forces being deployed by a Force Rift in the Honeycomb District,” said Kylass, raising her vambrace to speak into the commlink. “They’re going after the power systems for the shielding. I’ll--”

Zark clenched his fist when the transmission cut off, this simple act of frustration the only emotional indulgence he would allow despite knowing how close the battle for Jar'Kai was to ending before it had even begun.

"Starhaven, respond." static growled in his ears, "Those power generators must not be destroyed. Starhaven!"

He let go of the rising anger and focused on something that San Tekka could control.

"Pull the walkers back. Send your men over the edge."

Atrisian officers exchanged bows with the Jedi before barking orders in their native dialect. Royal Military troopers lined up on the skydocks while making final equipment checks. One by one they leapt off into freefall. Just above the black smoke that curled around the Spire like a hungry predator, Zark watched their anti-grav chutes deploy. He could not help but admire the Atrisian fighting spirit. Banzai. No fear.

Spoiler: Summary

• GADF AT-TE walkers take heavy losses from Imperial ion attack. Disabled vehicles drop from the cloudscraper onto the Spire's outskirts causing friendly fire but also disrupting the Empire's advance. Surviving walkers fire a salvo at extreme range before falling back.
• Contact made with incoming support walkers from the bridge gate. Iron Fang alerted to Imperial ion teams camouflaged on the approach.
• First wave of Atrisian paratroopers deploy from the skydocks using smoke from the wrecks to conceal their approach for as long as possible. Landing zones will be scattered throughout and behind Imperial lines.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Objective: 1
Theater District
Tags: Vulpesen Junko Ike Aknoby Laphisto Zark San Tekka Dark Forces​

The echoes of his boots against stone were soon swallowed by the roar of distant bombardments. The city trembled. Aiden steadied himself with every breath, drawing once more upon the current that flowed through all things. In it, he found clarity, not certainty of victory, but certainty of purpose and hope.

He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, the wind carrying the faint echo of civilians cries from the distance. Then his eyes opened, and with a single step down the marble stairs, and he begun to move toward the Theater and the trapped lives within. His lightsaber hung silent at his side, but the Force thrummed around him, alive with purpose. Where fear sought to drown, he would be the shore. Where darkness descended, he would bring light.

And though he walked into the jaws of devastation, the conviction in his chest burned brighter than the shadow above.

The screams and static of comms chatter filled the air as fresh blaster fire cut down from the shattered balconies. Several soldiers, too far from the lieutenant's makeshift cover, scrambled across open ground, desperate to reach the barricade before the next volley landed. Aiden saw it before they did. He felt the pull of their fear, sharp, bright threads tugging at the fabric of the Force. They were exposed, and the enemy's scopes were already tracking.

He didn't think. He moved.

Drawing a deep breath, he sank one foot into the fractured duracrete and raised both hands. The Force gathered at his call, not in fury, but in harmony, drawn from the cries, the courage, the defiance of every being around him. It flooded through him like wind through an open door, pure and boundless. Translucent light shimmered into being, bending the smoke around it. A dome of azure energy unfurled between the soldiers and the elevated snipers, a rippling barrier that caught the next volley mid-flight. Red bolts struck and flared harmlessly, scattering into sparks that hissed against the shield's surface.

For an instant, the air itself seemed to still.

"Go!" Aiden called, voice carrying through the haze. "Now!"

The soldiers obeyed. They sprinted beneath the barrier's curve, armor flashing in the reflected light. Each impact above sent vibrations down Aiden's arms, the strain biting deeper with every bolt. His teeth clenched; sweat slicked his brow. Holding the barrier against focused fire demanded more strength than simple will, it required faith. Aknoby was able to get rid of the last of the snipers, Aiden released the breath he'd been holding. The barrier flickered once, then dissipated like mist in sunlight.

Shiraya's Hope with him, as they would push forward.

 

[Lorn Reingard]

Tags: Bastila Sal-Soren | Laphisto | Dark Forces (Garden Objective)​

The purple glow of Bastila's blade held steady in the smoke. When her words reached him, "You won't have to doubt me," Lorn's expression shifted. A faint, weary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He turned to look at her properly, the gold of his saber reflecting in her young, determined face.

"I don't," he said, voice quiet but unflinching. "Not after Sepan. Not after I saw you purge Sithspawn with your own strength. You've already proven yourself, Bastila. I have full faith in you."

Above them, the air seemed to thrum, heavy with a dread he could not escape. Lorn's gaze flicked skyward, through the smoke-choked canopy of the burning gardens. The sight made his stomach knot. Project Stardust loomed, the Death Star's silhouette blotting out the stars. He felt the terror of Atrisia ripple through the Force like waves crashing against his mind. Despair festered beneath the shadow of Solipsis' ritual. The darkness had its claws deep in this world, and for a heartbeat, Lorn felt himself sinking into that weight. He tore his eyes away. He could not afford to drown. Bastila depended on him, and civilians screamed for help only a stone's throw away. He had to focus now.

A gunship roared overhead, its cannons stitching fire into the hedgerows. In that momentary chaos, he saw opportunity. He raised his saber in a sharp gesture. "Let's see what you can do."

Lorn broke into a low sprint, golden blade held across his body. Through the thick black smoke he spotted a squad of stormtroopers crouched at the edge of the waterway, feeding incendiary shells into mortars. The orange glow of their pauldron-marked leader cut through the haze as he barked orders.

Lorn leapt the final meters, his blade flashing in an arc of golden light. One trooper's rifle was cleaved in two before the man even registered the Jedi's arrival. Some panicked, fumbling with incendiary rounds. Lorn pressed hard, using his size and strength to drive the squad leader into the scorched hedge. With a single, powerful stroke, the sergeant's pauldron split, armor sizzling as he collapsed. Bastila and his movements flowed together, her youthful sharpness weaving around his battle-forged precision. In less than a minute, the squad lay broken, their mortars scattered.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the crackle of flames. Then Lorn stiffened. His head turned sharply, eyes narrowing. More shapes emerged in the smoke, advancing fast. He spun on his heel, saber up, only to halt when their armor registered as different. They weren't Imperials or stormtroopers. Their movements were too disciplined, too deliberate. Then a voice cut through:

"Master Jedi. Corporal Selren, Lilaste Order."

Lorn blinked, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The Lilaste Order, he knew little of them, only that they were one of the many scattered banners that had risen to resist Imperial tyranny. He stepped forward, lowering his saber slightly but not deactivating it.

"I am Lorn Reingard. Jedi Knight of the Jedi Order." He gestured beside him, to the young woman whose blade still glowed in the haze. "This is Bastila Sal-Soren, Padawan."

The gold and purple light caught on his gaunt, smoke-streaked features as he continued. "If your men can lay down fire, we'll move for the pavilion and get the civilians out. Keep the trenches suppressed... we'll handle the rest."

Lorn's gaze flicked past the corporal to the burning pavilion, where shadows writhed behind the flames. His jaw tightened. Time was against them, and the shadow of the Death Star pressed ever heavier on his mind. He forced the fear down, replacing it with purpose.

 

[Kasan Osera]

Location: Atrisia III, Jar'Kai, base of The Spire
Nearby Allies: Daro Kilaeon | Franceline Dawer
Enemy Forces: Zark San Tekka | Junko Ike​

Spoiler: tl;dr Action Summary

• Crashing walkers and descending paratroopers take a toll on the charging troopers.
• A small core of drop troopers make it to the base of the Spire and regroup.
• They use baradium charges to blow open the doors of the lower levels and enter.

--------------------------
​

Kasan's comms crackled again as she rushed forward, into the concealment she and her ragtag band of troops had managed to create with their smoke grenades. She had virtually no idea who was charging along with her; squad designations had become scrambled as soon as they'd hit atmosphere, let alone now, after they'd taken... what, forty percent casualties? Fifty? They had to try to regroup. She listened hard. "Logistic Cor̃ps, Irregular. Franceline Dawer̃. I am moving towards your̃ position to r̃esupply you, but... I can make no guarantees of arrival."

No kidding, Kasan thought grimly. There were never hard and fast guarantees in a combat scenario, where even the most valiant and skilled soldiers might get themselves annihilated by a stray blaster bolt, but Jar'Kai was even more dangerous than a typical battlefield. The city positively thrummed with enemy forces, riding creatures and equipped with technologies she had never dreamed of before. And the Empire had dropped them into the thick of it, a drop infantry force with no chance of orbital support unless and until the shields came down.

A dark suspicion began to grow in Kasan's mind as she ran, lungs burning, desperate to cross the open space. The Imperial military had to know about all of this - they had spies everywhere, intelligence agents who surely warned them about the unbelievable strength of Atrisian defenses. And if they had known they would face seemingly limitless forces armed with dimensional nano-gadgets unknown in the rest of the galaxy, why had they proceeded with the attack, especially knowing their forces would be so limited in what they could deploy?

It made little sense... unless the military had never intended to actually seize Jar'Kai.

What if it was all some kind of grand feint? A sacrifice of countless troopers to achieve some other goal?

Kasan couldn't imagine what the feth any of this would accomplish, but she had a dark sense that she was right - she and the others were cannon fodder, not conquerors. But she refused to let that stand, rejected it with all her heart. She needed to survive this, needed to get back to Tala. She wasn't going to let her daughter grow up in that damned kinder-block, and that meant finding a way to escape the fate of being fed into the gears of an overwhelming enemy. She needed to secure a way out. She needed to get to the skydock on the Spire's upper levels.

"Copy that, Dawer. We're pushing forward to rally at the base of the Spire. We..."

That was as far as she got before the shockwave from a colossal explosion swept her off her feet, tossing her back in a jumble of limbs. She hit the ground three meters behind where she'd been standing seconds earlier, cracking her head hard against the pavement of the Spire plaza; had she not been wearing a helmet, she would've been dead, her brains spattered around her in a halo. Dazed and aching, gasping for breath, she turned her head to the side. Another trooper lay only a couple of meters away... with a meter-long piece of rebar through his chestplate.

He shuddered once, then went still, blood leaking from the huge gash in his stark white armor.

As Kasan struggled to her feet, finding herself once again surrounded by the dead and wounded, she began to piece together what had happened. The smoke she and the other troopers had been using for cover had been swept away by the shockwave, leaving them terrifyingly exposed. With the air cleared, it took only a moment to see the source of the explosion: the walkers she'd just had the heavy weapons teams fire upon. She'd expected them to fall, yes. She'd even hoped it would give her some cover as she charged the Spire's lower level entrance.

It hadn't even occurred to her that they might have volatile fuel, enough of it to burst like grenades on impact.

Now they were at the mercy of the guns above them... and the level of mercy on offer was none. Mass driver rounds from the remaining walkers slammed into the plaza, obliterating stone and flesh alike wherever they struck. They held fire only so that jump troopers could begin to rain down from above... and above with them, Kasan caught a glimpse of colossal creatures moving through the air - rippling scales that covered trunk-like bodies, seemingly swimming through open space. The feth were those? Some kind of flying serpents? Feth this planet.

"RUN!" Kasan bellowed, all attempts to sound professional or in-control abandoned.

She sprinted past the burning wreckage of the fallen walkers, feeling the heat of the raging flames even through her armor. For a moment, she found herself imagining the terror of their crews as they plummeted a thousand feet or more to their doom... but that was a deeply unhelpful thought, so she pushed it away. A blaster bolt slammed into the wreck beside her, fired by some incoming paratrooper. She raised her gun above her head, firing wildly in the general direction of the drop troops. She didn't expect to hit any, but being shot at made accuracy harder

With a final dive, she managed to clear edge of the open plaza, rolling over her shoulder and onto her feet in front of the Spire's lower-level doors. It was tenuous cover at best, and fewer of them had reached it than she would've liked. They were a ragged bunch, whittled down to a hard, jagged bone. Most of them were injured, their armor scorched or even breached. All were winded. Looking back out over the plaza, Kasan saw fire and death. There was no way to get back across alive, and no one was likely to be able to reach and reinforce them now.

"Squa... Squad leader! Tee Kay Five One, Five Oh, reporting for duty. My squad didn't make the entry!"

Kasan turned to the trooper, eyeing his bleeding hand and burnt leg armor. "Well, you made it this far, TK-5150," Kasan replied. She thought about giving him a comradely pat on the shoulder, but was worried she'd knock him over; his balance didn't look so good after that blast to the thigh. "Let's get moving. We've got maybe sixty seconds before those paratroopers get down to ground level and can fire under the roof of the entryway. We'd better get inside, find some cover." Taking stock of the other troopers, Kasan spotted a heavy gunner.

He'd dropped his heavy repeater along the way, so that he could sprint, but he still had his sidearm...

... and he still had a belt full of exactly what she was looking for.

"You!" she barked, pointing at the trooper. He abruptly straightened up and saluted, a reflex drilled into all of them when an NCO addressed them, then sagged as he gasped for breath. "Set those baradium charges on the entryway. Everyone with smoke grenades left, throw them as soon as it blows. You," she indicated roughly half of the survivors, "throw them into the building, through the blasted doors. And you," she pointed at the other half, "drop yours behind us. Buy us a little time to get inside. Once the smoke's out, go in and get to cover."

They were cornered animals now, and the hunt was on.

But cornered animals fight all the more viciously... and so do mother animals.

 

[Darth Bellum]

BELLUM CONTRA OMNES

​

| Location | Jar'Kai, Atrisia​

| Purpose | War​

​

The Lord of War remained atop the Spire as his body seemed to convulse and contort, a clawed hand clutching at his chest as his breath rasped. Something akin to waves of euphoria washed over him, his cold, dead heart seeming to beat once more within his chest. Every bolt fired, every blade ignited, every life slain all seemed to grow and intensify its rhythm, a gnawing hunger and lust for battle began to grow as he felt all those around him continue to tithe their tributes, both willingly and unwillingly, feeding unto the one truth that he perpetuated - a galaxy filled with the weak would burn, making way for those worthy to rule.​

​

His all-seeing gaze wandered over the battlefield from above, an aura of destruction and wrath falling upon even those with a rudimentary grasp of sensing could feel. His very existence made the Force cry out in agony, a festering Wound upon it that grew with his continued nourishment from the fires of conflict. Hollow, soulless eyes wandered over the carnage unfolding below as the Jedi and coalition of forces moved to coordinate a defense of the city. ​

​

His legion moved to their designated objectives, superior tactics, training, and experience laying waste to those who tried to stop them. The Umbral Legion continued their advances, beginning to coordinate with their Imperial counterparts to flank and disrupt the enemy's attempts to fortify their positions along the bridge and walls. Blaster fire and explosions suppressed and sent soldiers scattering for cover. The legionnaire's assaulting the bridge would ensure that the defenders would not have time to properly entrench themselves to make way for the Imperial forces gathering in the expansion wards. Even as one legionnaire fell, another seemed to rise to take their place, fighting with even greater ferocity and vengeance. They knew no rest, they knew no weakness, only the absolute truth that was their lord's will.​

​

His cursed voice called out to his legion with a singular command.​

​

" Let none go quietly into oblivion. "​

​

His words echoed across the battlefield, a frenzied call to arms as carnage and destruction continued to spread. His gaze fixated on a Jedi attempting to engage his forces as he held his arm parallel to the ground, tendrils of darkness spiraling around his forearm as it spread out to consume his hand in a shadowy cloud. As he stepped forward off the edge of the spire, his blade Fellsong was drawn, grasped tightly in his necrotic grip as he free-fell towards the surface below. ​

​

Just as the Lord of War was seemingly about to crash into the earth a portal opened beneath him,his blade held tightly in both hands as if to ready a strike before disappearing into the void. Another rift tore itself a few meters away from Kyric , a whorl of shadows stretching wide as the Sith Lord came flying out, feet skittering to a halt as he weighed his stance down, blade raised and swinging at the Kiffar in an attempt to take his entire upper body along with it.​

​

Kyric

 

[Shinzou Ashina]

[ Theme ]

Shinzou Ashina

| Location | Jar'Kai , Atrisia​

| Objective | No Mercy for the Dark​

​

Explosions boomed in the distance, growing ever louder and louder with each passing moment as the Imperials had made landfall on Atrisia. Despite the sounds of battle growing, a distinct clack of wood sandals could be heard, punctuating the distant sounds of war in a steady rhythm as the Ashina bladesmen stepped out into the street, one hand on the brim of his straw hat while his other forearm rested on the handles of the katanas at his waist. He had a small wooden toothpick tucked between his lips, having been enjoying the local dango just before everything had gone to hell.​

​

Shinzou's single eye looked over as he paused in the middle of the street, tilting his head back as his gaze fell upon the Khan. His eye narrowed in an instant, already sensing ill intentions from the man before him as his teeth ground against the wooden toothpick between his lips. He raised a hand to pull it from his lips as he spoke, "Something tells me you're not here for the food or sights," he said with a sarcastic tone, rolling the toothpick between his fingers and turning to shift his body towards the man, his free hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "Y'know, I think it'd be best if you just turned and left the way you came before it gets worse for you here, friend. Can't promise you'll be walking out of here otherwise with all your limbs still attached to you if you don't leave now."​

​

St. Thomas Barran​

​

 

[Solidor Slane]

​

​

| Location | The Bridge, Atrisia​

| Tag | Corin Kaze ​

​

The time had come, and the need to stand by had passed. After his deep meditations and visions, he had witnessed, the elderly Jedi knew that the time for being a peaceful healer had passed. Once again, the warrior within him had roused himself from his vow of peace, to take up arms for the sake of the future and to fight back against the tides of darkness that had now begun to torment the galaxy in greater and greater waves. ​

​

The Sworn Host had made their line in Jar'Kai, and Solidor would stand by their side. With the enemy encroaching from both sides, it was imperative that they hold the line to prevent the city from being breached by the main forces. The Great Wall would hold back the bulk of the Imperials as time would allow, leaving the defense of the incoming forces from the Expansion wards to them and those who stood with them.​

​

The Jedi drew in a sharp breath as he held his cane up parallel to the ground in front of him in both hands, eyes closed as he felt the thunder of battle fall silent around him. The Force was in pain and out of balance. All he could do as its humble servant was to ease its suffering and ensure that balance was maintained. Fingers wrapped around the head of his cane as his thumb pressed gently against a button, a soft click heard as the head came loose, pulling away as a green saber flashed to life. ​

​

In the chaos of war, he found peace and tranquility within the Force, and in that peace, he would fight to protect those worth protecting. As his eyes opened he let the sheathe of his cane fall to the side, flourishing his saber as he took on a defensive stance. ​

​

Corin Kaze was already throwing himself amidst the ranks of the enemy as Solidor's free hand reached out, a ripple in the Force answering his beck and call. When the Mawites began to open fire on the younger Jedi, an unseen barrier protected his most vulnerable angles. Blaster bolts struck the invisible barrier, causing the air struck to seemingly fracture like glass, allowing the young Jedi to fight without worrying about needing to defend himself. Solidor may not be as young or in his prime as he once was to fight like Corin, but he could still be there to shield him.​

​

 

[Ko Vuto]

​

Location: Jar'Kai Gardens
Tags: Zark San Tekka | Dark Forces ​

Avoidance and evasion was what the Kel Dor had to rely on as the walker’s swiveling light blaster cannon kept shooting. It’s rate of fire being far too great for Ko to rely fully on deflection.

In the middle of the struggle he received a message from his superior, Master San Tekka. But struggled some to fully take in what was being communicated to him. The Jedi master mentioned something about investigating phantoms at the city’s gardens. Which couldn’t be correct.

Needing to bring his focus squarely on the war machine before Ko’s quickly dashed towards the walker. Zigzaging with each step in a sporadic cadence before side stepping to the walker’s right side. With an enhanced jump Ko became level with the main head of the walker before shooting his leg out to kick it harshly to the side. Using The Force to exponentially increase the power of his strike. The sound that reverberated from within its hollowed body sounded slightly like a loud gong being struck. Surely discombobulating the pilots inside before the force of the impact made the machine lose balance and fall over and crash through the glass storefront of some small business.

As the Kel Dor landed back on his feet he winced at some unintended destruction. Even if it was a drop in the bucket that was the battle raging around him. Now after granting the walker an early decommission Ko had a moment to bring his attention back to the message he received. Playing it back for himself he could actually understand it now.

A disturbance at the gardens. It was a bit vague but still felt like something that was up his alley. Even during a time like this it still seemed he may be able to make use of his green thumb. Without wasting any more time Ko began to make his way to Jar’Kai’s gardens to witness this “phantom menace” for himself.

Ko had to find a steady pace for himself as he ran and leapt through the city. Largely bypassing the streets and running across the many buildings and rooftops. Allowing the Kel Dor Jedi a wider perspective on the battle that raged throughout Jar’Kai, as well as a bit of time to think.

. . .​

Ko hadn’t wanted to admit it, but it was something he couldn’t ignore. He was growing weaker. Not physically, but spiritually. His connection to The Force hadn’t felt as strong ever since Coruscant fell into the clutches of Imperial rule. Ever sense The NJO became a skeleton of what it once was. Ever sense his surrogate severed his arm.

Doubt, the most potent poison of every practitioner of the Jedi Arts and beyond, has been coiling more and more around Ko’s soul. Deep down he’d always felt like the weight of the galaxy rested on his shoulders. But before, when the NJO was far more robust, he believed that others shared in that burden. Where he just had to be one of many pillars keeping everything up. But now there were so few left behind to carry that weight.

The NJO was his family, his support group. But now most of his mentors, friends, brothers and sisters were gone now.

What was he even fighting for anymore?

. . .​

Soon enough he saw it. Smoke. Lots and lots of smoke billowing up into the sky from where the gardens were. Once Ko was close enough he stood at the ledge of a rooftop with a decent view of the gardens. Around it looked to be mortar teams firing incendiary munitions into gardens. If he recalled correctly there were a number of defensive positions within the gardens. Finally Ko would send a message back to Zark.

“Master San Tekka, this is Ko. I’ve finally arrived at the gardens. It’s being set ablaze. I believe Imperial Forces may be trying to flush out any remaining defenders.” It was ruthless but surely effective. Not very many people would wait around to be burned alive. “Engaging the threat now. Over.” Ko concluded.

He clenched his single fist in anger over what he was witnessing. Now the lush gardens here were just another casualty in this war. Ko had to choose how he was going to handle this. Should he rush into the growing inferno to try to save those still alive? Or Should he go on the offensive and fight back against the invaders? The Kel Dor quickly came to a conclusion. Even if he tried to directly rescue anyone caught in the fire they could just keep firing more ordinances into the gardens. He had to stop the imperials first. He had to pull the weeds from their roots…

TLDR Post Summary

Spoiler

Handled an imperial scout walker in the city.

Follows Master Tekka's orders to investigate what is happening in city's gardens.

While making his way to the genders has time to think about his doubts over the current state of the galaxy and NJO.

Arrives at the gardens and informs Zark on the threat before deciding to combat the Imperial soldiers actively endangering the gardens and those trapped within.

​