"The Wanderer"
-Ally Tags-
Zark San Tekka
Corin Kaze
Wedge Draav
-Enemy Tags-
Dark Forces
Darth Bellum
WRATH OF GOD
6
Atrisia, Galactic Core Territories (903 ABY)
[PYOOooom]
'Yo!'
'Aan! Glad ye made it!'
'Wait, you know Sergeant Korath?'
[CRACK]
'Korath & I also have something in common - makes 'im worth remembering.'
'OoOoOo.... MyStErIoUs! I get it, dude. You got brothers in the Maw, so fething what!'
Fortunately for Barran, the first clash had granted the lower-floors enough breathing-room to reorganise, an opportunity of which to resupply and rally around the foreign leader's position, as both old Woad and young GADF soldier alike were aware of the necessity guiding the next gathering of strength. Even bringing some of the Tier-1 operators who diverted south to aid their Lord Imperator, along with any surviving stragglers who crossed their paths, the next rallying call would yield more defenders than Michael could ever have hoped to find, making all the difference by the time their Imperial adversaries sent in a second wave of assaulting troopers.
'They're pushing left-'
'On it!'
Leaping across the ramshackle barricades from stationary poise, the Tattered Regent would be granted a larger audience to his Force-Wielding endeavours, though he was, in no way, considering this at the time, not whilst he approached the threat of blaster-fire. For all his prowess and strength against all opposition, not even Barran would be senseless enough to doubt the damage bolts could inflict on human anatomy, precisely the reason many of his methods were geared towards counter-attacking, as it would prove handy on more than his fair share of battlefronts. Especially for the Force-Wielders and conventional soldiers serving with Barran, and for those with eyes to see it implemented on Atrisia that day, GADF and IMPAF alike would learn to swear by it's merit in combat, just as they would again in future engagements.The fact his Makashi saber was handed back in warmhearted grace (and placed in his hand without so much as a single complaint) would go a long way with the old Woad, and in due course, Barran's "Ragtag Wonders", would be treated to quite the wondrous show with Ultramarine-blue Kyber, but necessity would keep it tethered to his utility-belt for the time-bing. As much as Michael might have been loathe to admit it at the time, he was growing attached to these braves, and for all their bluster as much as the hearts that guided that brazen courage, thus he found himself feeling obligated to keep that rare ilk alive, to assure their chance to live and fight another day.
Michael could not, nor would he allow himself to let braves perish on his watch, enough had died to the siege already - only an active defence would suffice. This time, such a thing would consist of a very specific sort of Force-method augmentation, as it had on many battlefronts before that day, a lesson the Spire's defenders would learn soon enough. Starting by blending Thought Shield and Force Pull with Force Deflect, a strange, experimental technique had been developed specifically to suspend blaster-trails and slug-rounds in the air around him, held in place to be used against the ones who fired in his direction, misfortunate enough to see the rods of death that awaited the strongest of Force Push catalysations.
'Thats right, you bastards! This is how your story ends, DEATH BY YOUR OWN BLASTER BOLTS!!!!'
The ensuing mayhem was nothing short of destructive, but with his Ragtags at his back, whooping and cheering at the madnesss that had just unfolded, assuring their safety made it worth the old Woad's time. Barran's peers had just borne witness to a single, wide-reaching spread of Ion and Slug shot, all cast as one shot toward the widening Imperial assault, and though it had not been the first time for some among the Ragtags, their reactions would be priceless enough for all who would see it for the first time. Proving effective enough that it made the other attackers lose precious momentum, seeing it from their perspective, and reacting in an understandably-different way.
<"Mask One, what is your status? There are stormtroopers crawling all over the Spire. En route to the shield generators but we're almost out of time.">
<"We're winning the fight for the lower-levels, Master Zark. We'll soon be free to clear out the Spire from below, so come fight your way down - come meet your brethren at the heart o' the tower! Mask One - out!>
'Hot damn! He's goin' for it, boys!'<"We're winning the fight for the lower-levels, Master Zark. We'll soon be free to clear out the Spire from below, so come fight your way down - come meet your brethren at the heart o' the tower! Mask One - out!>
'Damn right, I am!'
'WE MAKE FOR THE SHIELD-GENERATOR - ONE LAST PUSH FOR GLORY!!!!'
With raucous, roaring approval, the lower-floors contingent relished a challenge they knew they could overcome together, already feeling grand increases of cohesion between them, and very much aware they would be attacking their adversaries from behind. The quiet confidence it instilled in their ability as one collective (and in their chances of surviving with equalling intensity) was enough to bring serotonin shivers to the backs of their necks, but there was still fighting left to be done within the Spire, and more yet to eneavour after the tower was cleared top-to-bottom, but the sudden, belief-instigated rush of energy could not be ignored.This would make all the difference to arms that were tiring just moments before, to feet and knees that ached until the sudden morale-boost, and in the advance of Barran's rallied collective, their opponents would sense it when the sudden collective push inflicted Defiance upon them. It was then that the Ultramarine blue Kyber snap-hissed into life, finally bringing the curved-hilt Makashi saber into the fight, and along with it, Barran's offensive momentum would inspire the Ragtags to fight all the more effectively. Clean form, observance of the space around them, valour that defied all interpreted convention, and before long, and just before they reached the same floor on which they could find the entrance to the shield-generator room, their hard word would pay off.
Standing out as exemplars in their own right, damned near outshining the old Woad in the process.
There was a beautiful silence before the door was breached, and though it was nought but a fleetingly-short moment between them, all who survived long enough to experience it would go on to remember that joyous muting of their own volition, seemingly meditating with those scant few seconds before that one, magnitudinous culmination of effort. Nothing was said between them, as it seemed that none even needed to say anything, not even as they giddily set plastic-explosives; it was nought but blissful wordlessness, and certainly not for all they were about to endeavour, but rather, it seemed as though there was nothing that all their previous fighting had not already stated on their behalf already.
The sword-arm, the eyes of marksmen, and the feet that compelled their legs to move, these would represent the larynx, these would represent the vocal-chords; and like they would for the voice, these would represent the heart-of-hearts, the soul within. Even when the door was impacted inward with pressurized force, all would continue to smile, carrying their self-belief as they placed on their helmets, nodding back and forth between each other as they shouldered their blaster-rifles. It was then that all eyes turned to Barran once more, though he knew well enough that none there required a long-winded speech, the old Woad still thought considerately as he concluded,'We can talk when the smoke clears on Jar'Kai.... But for now.... Good luck, my young friends.', even offering a nod of his own to commence the clearing operation as quickly as possible.
[EXIT THREAD]
