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#TeamAlliance Location: Dagobah | Ground (Blue Team) Equipment: ExplorCorps Field Kit | Training Lightsaber | Target Blaster Supporting: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Daxton Bane"] | [member="Rapax"] | [member="Rekha Kaarde"] | [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] | @BlueTeamPCs Opposing: None in direct action.
Bringing one hand up, the young Atrisian cradled one headphone over his ear as the synth-pop continued to play on.
With the sounds of blaster fire beginning to rise through the swamps, the familiarity of the Atrisian music playing was comforting when nothing else was. The boy shuffled a little closer to where Starchaser-sensei was.
"If I'm watching you who is going to watch me, the kid?"
The boy looked up at the statement, glancing between where a brunette woman and Coren were talking. What was he supposed to be watching now? The look on the youngling's face said lost and it was obvious that Shoma had no clue.
Tensions were running so high that the sound of a twig snapping caused the boy to jump. And it seemed he wasn't the only one.
"I'd rather not find out the hard way by bleeding that we are in trouble."
The boy could only nod at that sentiment. The brunette lady went on to add some practical pieces of advice.
"Head open, eyes down," the boy echoed, with a nod. Then seemed to realize his mistake. "Wait..."
At least his age was somewhat easier to manage. "Rekha-san," the boy repeated, pulling the headphones down around his neck as he bowed toward the woman. "My name is Shoma. I'm, uh... twelve," the boy admitted.
Coren's remark about switching out for kill shots made the Atrisian somewhat worried.
...and by somewhat, he meant very worried.
For one thing, he was carrying a training lightsaber. It was set to non-lethal power levels as a safety precaution, and Shoma didn't have the override key for it. Second of all, but related to the first, he was carrying a target blaster. It only fired stun bolts.
This was supposed to be a training exercise. Younglings undergoing training didn't exactly carry lethal weapons.
"Don't!" Zark half cried, half pleaded, but the Darkside adept's sudden attack had taken him off guard.
With her surface thoughts shielded by her strength in the Force, the Jedi Master had taken the sheathing of her weapon as a sign that she might want to talk, but while his time fighting Sith had trained him to be prepared for all manner of unexpected things, he had never before encountered a pyrokinetic assault of this type and delivery method before. Two Alliance marines were lit up like a bonfire, staggering through both sides' line of fire like marionettes, before he summoned enough concentration to erect a supernal barrier that shielded himself and the others.
The flames faded away, and out of smoke and ashes a fiery redhead charged straight towards their position. Once again raising the heavy blaster in his hand, this time Zark fired. A series of non lethal paddle beam charges arced out in attempt to track his moving target. The specially modified setting was designed primarily to combat lightsaber wielders, its long beams capable of warping around energy blades, but the vice admiral knew that even for his Force enhanced reflexes, aiming at and hitting another trained in the arts was easier said than done.
Even if he managed to strike, even one or two well placed stun beams were liable only to slow his enemy down, so after exhausting half the paddle beam's reduced power pack charge, he dropped the pistol and triggered the release mechanism on a hidden compartment built into his prosthetic forearm, where the Jedi Master's lightsaber was housed so it would not draw attention on his uniform. Assuming [member="Anya Malvern"] kept up her speed, the burnt orange blade would activate just in time to block his opponent's first strike, its outer shell licking against the orange of his foe's own weapon, while its inner core was like roiling black smoke with suspended flecks of ember.
"There is always a choice," he said, voice strained with effort, "You may not wish evil, but it is all you will accomplish here today unless you lay down your arms."
All around them, a flurry of blaster crossfire filled both the chamber and the flight deck outside as Imperial soldiers and Alliance marines traded fire.
Location: Dagobah Space Objective:Joining The Fray, Making Fray Pies Allies: GA/CIS/Others, [member="Janick Beauchamp"] Enemies: Imperials, [member="Fabian"], [member="Mitth'rae'leios"] Inventory: Unmarked LISF-1 Starfighter bought on Open Market, two heavy Magnetic Revolvers, Neuranium Pellets, Grapplehook Pistol, Anti-Force User Grenades, Sliver of Light, Spear of Rae, Gauntlets of Gravitational Mastery, Chameleon Cloak, Armored Biot, Makeshift disguise of robes and bandages, Abregado Combat Shield, Phrik Combat Body, Leovi Wings Jet Systems, Hypno-Gaze attachment, generic blue-blade combat lightsaber
Meanwhile,
The bubblehead of Siobhan Kerrigan sitting on one of the consoles within HK's starfighter begun to shudder and wobble around uncontrollably as the whole ship begun to shake and rattle and the brilliant, colorful tunnel of hyperspace begun to shift its colorful canvas once more, warping around furiously. It was a sign that HK's starfighter was about to revert into real-space, however the machine would not enter a battle so hastily, not before setting proper atmosphere for himself. As the calculations for reversions counted down and his window approached, HK reached over to one of the consoles, bringing up one of the HoloNet music channel frequencies and tuning into it, causing a tune to start to play throughout his cockpit.
As the rhythmic beat of the song and electric instruments sounded off in between the first lyrical lines sung out by the artists HK's hands found the flight controls of the starfighter, gripping them tightly, twelve fingers tightening and drumming slightly as the droid spoke out to himself,
"It can cut you like a knife, if the gift becomes the fire, on a wire between will and what will be."
Echoing the lyrics of the song he tuned into as the tunnel of hyperspace gave way into elongated visage of stars and then the sudden vibrant sight of space torn asunder through battle. Immediately HK was greeted by explosion and fierce exchange of turbolaser fire, jumping in as close to the conflict as he was allowed by the presence of various interdictors. With metallic groan he almost threw himself aside as in his tight grip he had to violently turn his starfighter, pulling the flight controls aside roughly and in last second dodging a shot down TIE fighter which came barrelling in towards him in its last few seconds of life, followed by GA starfighters which passed by the unmarked starfighter to seek out further targets.
"You work all your life for that moment in time, it could come or pass you by, it is a push-shove world but there is always a chance, if the hunger stays the night."
HK continued, speaking out once more along with the song that was now mixing with the various explosions and simulated sounds of engines and weaponry firing off around him, singing along with it, or at least trying to as best as a droid could, more just speaking in his monotone with the beat of the song rather than anything else. Pulling sharply on his controls once more he banked tightly to the other side, catching a glimpse of a small TIE fighter squadron, remnants from previous attacks by the GA it seemed. Whipping his ship around the droid timed and calculated, he wasn't the best pilot around, preferring to just fight on the ground, but his reflexes and various trackers that augmented his precision still made him a considerable foe. Squeezing the trigger he took advantage of LISF-1's increased maneuverability and suddenly got behind the TIE squadron, opening fire from his 4 laser cannons.
Suddenly it would become apparent that the Chiloon and Alakaha Squadrons were not without allies of their own in space as the unmarked starfighter made its presence known, causing few TIE fighters in their vicinity to explode under a rapid barrage of laser cannons, spinning wildly as it made its presence known, because that was a good trick, quickly shifting and whipping around once more to open fire at whichever group of NPC starfighters or interceptors attempted to harass the GA starfighters next.
HK's attention wasn't solely dedicated to enemy TIEs however as creeping closer into the battlefield suddenly his musical frequency would cut off, blocked by the Imperial E-War vessels,
"Fething schutta-garglers."
The droid swore quietly as he quite enjoyed the tune playing in the background while pretty much everything exploded around him. Scanning through the field he would notice the Abrakadabra, noticing that the jamming field seemed especially potent in its vicinity, accompanying other ships, one frigate especially. Deciding that he would rather have access to music if he was going to stay in this battle, and that any form of E-War was especially aggravating to him as a droid, he marked that vessel as his target. Luckily it seemed that other GA pilots had similar idea and were already going to attack it anyway as even before the droid could close in at its position, the vessel went up in flames and exploded, fragmenting and sinking into the oblivion along with one other.
Spinning once more and whipping aside the droid avoided the blast and expanding field of space-debris that propelled out from the destroyed vessels. Recognizing it was a peculiar decision to sacrifice two warships for one frigate the machine decided to investigate, plus frigates were something he probably could take on easier than larger capital ships like Star Destroyes, and pushed forward on his flight controls.
With the rumble of its engines, HK's starfighter made its way closer towards Fabian's frigate, cutting on the distance to get in position for an attack.
Trextan looked down at the flower Ellifain had found. She couldn't have known that he had plucked the exact same type as a present for Choli because it reminded him of her eyes. Or could she? He slipped it into one pocket and tried to focus his mind on the moment. For him the teeming life was more of a distraction than an ally and he needed to filter it out.
They didn't understand. They had less years than him and he had seen far too much war for his age. The largest brunt of conflict always fell upon the young. If the situation was bad they might not get to return to their walk, but he would see even more of the swamps over a protracted campaign. No one was a winner.
"Could you have any of the birds stay with us?" He asked. Even with the mists it would be like having their own situational awareness drone.
They trudged directly away from the troops. Shards of light cut through the trees and mists casting shadows that kept moving, keeping Trextan on edge.
He came to an abrupt halt. They were not alone here. Not just the troops forming up behind them but something swift, a creature of darkness. Trextan didn't want to have to stop and fight in the boggy ground that sucked at his legs. Looking around for a raised patch of ground that might provide better footing and pointed towards it.
Location-atmosphere of dagaboh
Objective-remove obstacle, continue take over
Allies-GE
enemies-[member="Zark"]
Anya being small and flexible didn't attempt to block the paddlebeams, she she dodged and moved around them like a fire following gas right up to the source. She met blades with zark as she held her saber tight. Orange danced across her eyes like fire as she stared back almost emotionless....one has to be in such wars
evil...it is as odd thing no? When a planet is invaded by the alliance do crossfires happen? Evil can not exist without good and so long as one or the other exists then evil will too...i fight to push you as far back....to maybe retire and truely be a mother to be children one day!
She said and brought he root up to kick him back, assuming it worked l, she screamed out using force scream down the narrow hall towards zark. She hoped it was successful as she charged again and feigned a low strike then went for his cybernetic arm...hoping to lop it off
The wintry apprentice was covered in mud, lugging a decent amount of gear, and felt rather unnerved by the starships that had touched down in the distance. She knew the sounds of thrusters anywhere. The small Echani could see her Master trying to find signal, some sort of connection, but as he leaned against one of the wide-trunked trees she could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. He too was concerned by the things she observed and primrose lips pressed into a grim line.
Srina could feel it when Darth Metus let his senses spill out over the land. She made her own presence as small as possible so that it wouldn’t distract him from his search. He wasn’t the only one to feel something amiss, although the truth had not occurred to her, merely a sense of oblivion. There was darkness descending over the training grounds that Srina had no words for. It was primordial dark made real. Her hand fell to her waist, wrapping around the hilt of the lightsaber, and as her pulse quickened her eyes went still.
Just as she had at the Silver Rest, Srina knew instinctively what was coming, and she dreaded it. Now was not the time to be frozen and trapped in images of prophecy or history. It was brief, this time, thankfully, but Force Sight fell over her with the strength of a hurricane. She saw first not the entity that came from the sky but her fellow apprentice, [member="Er’in Tenel"], alight and alive with new purpose. She presented a disturbance in the Force that was powerful. The vision was slow, leaving her with the sight of dark flowing hair, and light piercing the air. Lightning?
Srina worried for her.
The vision changed then…It swept through the swamplands of Dagobah as if riding the updraft into the clouds. It broke through the principle layers of the atmosphere and blew through the imaginary line where Dagobah ended and space began without stopping. There, she could see words on the side of a starship she had never seen before. It read clearly the Incandescent Truth and for the most part, its place in her mind’s eye left her vaguely confused. What purpose did this serve?
It was quickly made clear that this ship was headed on a crash course with another called the Pellaeon and before Srina could process the exact scenario she was pulled back to the planet. She could hear marching feet and nearly feel the heat of incoming blaster fire. Deathtroopers.
By the time she returned to herself Metus was already swearing and a heavy fog was rolling in. The sable-skinned Mandalorian born man gave orders to the Cragmoloids but Srina’s eyes remained trained on the direction the smoke came from. Deep within in, hidden, if she focused hard enough she could feel little dots of life that didn’t belong to Dagobah’s natural ecosystem. “Two ships in orbit over Dagobah…I think they’re going to collide, Master. The Incandescent Truth and the Pellaeon.”
The apprentice could not say for sure, as occasionally, she saw different futures. Things that were altered or changed by the actions of the present. But it certainly appeared to be the case. Furtively, her mirrored eyes glanced at the sky, expecting a ground-shaking explosion at any moment.
"Something has also changed within Er'in. Surely, you feel it as I do."
There was no way that her Master had missed something so poignant happening to one of his apprentices.
“This is an attack happening either very conveniently while we are present or our hosts are simply that lucky.”, she murmured calmly, between the ships landing, her visions, and the smoke, certain that someone had a bone to pick with the Alliance. People were dying. She could feel life slipping away like water running downstream. The presence of trooper units all but screamed an Imperial presence. Wonderful. Darth Metus moved to attack the incoming forces, but not before shooting her a witty remark. Her lips quirked upward in a mirthless smile. “That remains to be seen.”
Srina felt eyes digging into her back. It wasn’t the same as the watchful gaze of Katria or Aedan’s Cragmoloids. It was different, heated, and for lack of a better term, savage. She didn’t have time to try and figure out who or what it belonged to because Metus tossed a sonic grenade into the fray. The Echani ignored the faint ringing in her ears from the explosion and pressed forward. Rather than try to fight with all of her gear, she removed most of it, and left it by a tree.
Unfortunately, she had to leave her Master’s sniper. It would be of no use up close and it would only weigh her down.
Aya Clarke arrived with at least fifteen droids at her side and asked Darth Metus how many enemies there were. Srina responded firmly, silvered eyes emotionless, as she recalled the last vestiges of her vision. It provided more than they could see through the fog. The Vicelord may have felt more. “More than fifty.”
The Red Fang Cragmoloids had already begun their assault from Darth Metus’s command. Srina nodded her head toward Darth Metus, before moving into the field of engagement herself, following up behind the droids Aya had brought.
“Talon, ma’am, stay back. Let us be the first wave.”, grunted the trunked Commander Tuusk of the Red Fang. He seemed worried about her, but really, the apprentice suspected that he was merely acting on the orders of [member="Aedan Miles"]. “We’re equipped to handle things like this. High ground and low.”
“Commander Tuusk—I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself.”, the white-haired woman spoke plainly, before slipping past him, and through the wall of BX-Droids. Srina swept up the right flank to avoid getting shot in the back, feet light, moving over roots and patches of swampland as if she were born to it. Briefly, her form flickered, before blending in with her surroundings as she activated her cloaking device.
The deathtroopers might still be able to track her via infrared but she wouldn’t activate her lightsaber until necessary. They were elite and would be focused on the task at hand. Approaching them from a different front at least guaranteed a momentary element of surprise. Srina raised her hand and the Force responded to her readily, like a lost child, sending the first man in black armor flying from his feet.
White light shot from her crossguard saber and her cloaking faded, interrupted, as she spun into a heavy downswing, attacking the soldier beside him. The blade went through armor, flesh, and bone, as she liberated a deathtrooper from his right arm. She pulled back and brought the blade up, digging into her opponent’s torso, ignoring the screams, before she made a perpendicular slice that ended his life. There was no hesitation. No time to think about the life she had taken. This was a battle. War. In war, people died.
A blaster bolt caught her in the chest, and though unharmed, as her armor absorbed most of the hit, she stepped back and raised her arm to activate her shield. It absorbed the shots that followed and the pale-skinned were threw herself into the fight, body and soul, a whirling and precise vision of white light and swift death.
There were so many deathtroopers. No matter how many she fought, it seemed that each fallen foe was replaced by another, and another. When she closed in on another enemy, he dodged, and her attack missed its mark. She adjusted, twirled her wrist, and closed the distance before attacking again. He threw a blade at her and her body tilted to the side but her hand snapped out, catching it by the handle, before it breezed by. Flipping it in her hand to test the weight she viciously threw it back. It didn’t completely penetrate the armor but the man yelled nonetheless.
Srina threw her hand out and pushed with the Force, her will tugging on the abilities that her Master had taught her, and the blade pushed deeper, and deeper, until it sunk into the man’s chest. His helmeted head fell back and the Echani used the same telekinesis to toss the body away from her person.
She was reminded of their location, rather gruesomely, when vines snapped the body out of midair and dragged it down into the maw of a giant plant. It must have been hungry, because she heard a solid crunch, as the armor was crushed and ripped free so that the tender meat below could be devoured. Srina turned away, as meatier chunks of the dead trooper escaped the flower and fell into the swamp, discarded by its ravenousness. Srina appeared dispassionate and unmoved.
At least he’d been dead versus being eaten alive.
Actions:
Aware via Force Sight that the Truth and the Pellaeon may collide.
Has begun to dispatch DT's deathtroopers
Location: Space over Dagobah Status: Deliberating and calculating.
There was no missing the debacle that ensued. Even a rookie could have deciphered the disaster that slowly threatened to unfold. But that was not the thought that passed through the mind of the Chiss as he watched the battle ensue outside the bridge of the Praetor. No, his mind was withdrawn, his mind had retreated to the inner workings of the plans and tactics that had been impressed upon him by the superior officers of the Imperial Navy. While the rest of the crew continued to scramble for the next important task, completing a prior one and delegating which to approach next, he continued to observe the unfolding events with glowing red eyes.
It was as the shadow began to overtake the hull of the Praetor that Thrael understood the fragility of the situation. Each order, each motion, each breath came into question within the Chiss' complex mind. He remembered clearly discussing the plan with the Grand Admiral, deliberating over the tactical utility behind a ship such as the INV Pellaeon. As such, as his eyes adjusted to the enveloping shadow of the colossal destroyer, he recalled the his insistence that the Grand Admiral exercise caution in his approach. Approach too deep inside of enemy territory and he would be targeted like a rancor in an open field of Dantooine, approach too close to the edge of the system and all usefulness of the craft be rendered moot.
Had he made the latter decision, the Chiss contemplated, he might have compensated for the distance and accessibility. The Chiss stepped towards the communications console for the Praetor's direct interface and gently laid his finger over it, careful as not to apply too much pressure. There was another detail to recognize as he recalled the first reports he'd received from the surface and it's low orbit. Mandalorians were indeed a formidable foe, while not nearly as creative and resilient as the Alliance had thus far proven, they were still very much a threat regardless of their tactical position. A threat that warranted annihilation.
Graf's failure had been noted. His inability, as it appeared, to resist the weight of an uneven battle having taken hold of his ego putting his ship and men's lives in danger. An assessment of his varying options became more than pertinent to the Rear Admiral. Options that he weighed carefully as he observed the continued damage outside the viewport of the bridge. Was it to be his command that fell under scrutiny for the mistakes of his superiors? Victory was not a certainty, and neither was superiority; a quick observation of the damage his vessels had accrued was enough to end that debate before it even began.
Immersed in that thought, there was the briefest of moments that the Chiss failed to see the approaching Alliance vessel. Lifting his head slowly, his eyes widening for but a moment before focusing hard on the virtually decrepit hull, he drew slowly away from the console and found his mind reevaluating the plans he had already gone over. The options and possibilities he had so carefully delegated. He had anticipated this outcome, but to see it unfold was not what he had hoped for. He commended the Alliance commander silently and pressed his finger against the communication console.
"Crew of the Praetor, this is Rear Admiral Thrael," he breathed, his voice even and calm in consideration for the shaking and vibration the vessel continued to suffer as he began his address. "As you may have noticed, the Grand Admiral's vessel has come under an attack from the proton beam mounted Alliance vessel. While I understand that your loyalties to me may come second to the loyalties you hold for the Galactic Empire, I assure you that our failure here will just as terrible, if not worse, than what I am about to ask you."
Straightening his posture, bringing one hand behind his back as he gazed out over the bridge of the Praetor and continued to watch as the vessel approached it's target slowly. With a wave of his hand he directed the engines officer to bring the Praetor into a dive, low and precise, towards the surface of the planet. It was an order that was momentarily questioned by the lower ranking officer, but one that was followed none the less as the Chiss delivered his speech.
"I present to you a choice," the admiral continued as he felt the Ysalamir crawl about his back and position itself more comfortably over his shoulders. All the while the aide that had brought it held forth the nutrient cage should it have been necessary. The Chiss drew back as this was done, and drew in a slow breath. "I, Rear Admiral Thrael, am no longer concerned with the matters and failings of this Empire. Some of you may question my decision, others may understand, however, I insist that you contemplate the possibility that should we stay this course only one outcome awaits us. Failure and punishment. And so, as your commander, I ask any willing to stand by me assist me in putting our talents to better use. The Alliance have shown their colors, the Empire it's own."
As he spoke, his eyes glowed brighter for but a few moments, almost as if he felt the urge to respond emotionally to his own words. Rather his eyes strayed to observe the body heat and muscle fluctuations of the crew around him. He could hear the chatter from the Death Troopers opposite his position and the choked consideration from the captain behind him.
"Only one truth stands as a certainty here today," he continued and paused as the explosion of the Truth rocked the deck of the Praetor at it's already mildly departed distance. A glance to the console to his right showed that the second Victory IV had begun a trailing course in it's conceptualized position. Holding fast to it's defense parameter. With a flick of his eyes from closed to open, the Chiss continued. "To those who choose to stay, to continue to support me, we make for the surface of Dagobah. To the Victory IV, do as you wish, but know that your survival is seated greater in the hands of the commanding officer of the Alliance vessel. Today I put an end to the threat that is the Mandalorian Empire and bring light upon the fragility of the Galactic Empire. They will know what it means to incorrectly calculate their actions. What it means to fail such that no amount of force will bring them the victory that they seek. They will know I put the lives of those I command before my loyalties to commanders who do not understand the sacrifices they make."
Another pause, another contemplation. Closer and closer the Praetor approached the welcoming gravity of Dagobah's orbit. All firing from the Praetor had ceased, it's very nature presenting as docile to the Alliance vessels that it passed. With a flick of his fingers over the console beside him the Chiss delivered a startling message to the forward air command of the Galactic Alliance forces.
"Captain," he breathed as he turned his head slightly to draw her closer. Across the ship men and women discussed among themselves the meaning of the Chiss words. Many manned their stations, the few were wrangled up and escorted to shuttles to be escorted off later. What quickly became certain, much to the surprise of those outside the Chiss' chain of command. was that the majority of his crew were loyal but to a different cause than that which they had been educated to follow. Life over meaningless sacrifice. "Bring all weapons to point, while I am aware that it is a tactical risk that the Mandalorians may not even be there I do not doubt it is a priority... Target the forward operating station of the Galactic Alliance ground forces with both this vessel and the Victory IV at our flank. Order the pilots to man their ships and prepare to assist the Alliance ground forces against our ground forces. This battle and the Mandalorians end today."
Silence consumed the bridge of the Praetor Class Destroyer. Shock from the command officers, inspired awe from the captain as the former captain was escorted away. The Chiss slowly straightened himself up from where he had been bent, turning with his arms behind his back to pass the captain and bring himself to the middle of the bridge catwalk. Almost as if he knew his words had begun to take their root, the Chiss composure returned to it's nature at which it had been when he arrived in the sector. Confident that the rest of his fleet would know how to respond should he not return immediately to it's sector. It's orders to abandon the Empire should he fail to report within a reasonable time from the invasion under way.
The captain's word came: weapons primed and prepared to fire. Twist in posture, eyes fixed on the sensor station. He had no doubt that the Mandalorians would not hold to their supposed selection of sides, no delusions that he would be firing upon a possibly empty command center and no second thoughts as to the soundness of his decision. It only took a tilt of his head towards the weapons command console for the officer to understand what came next. As the Victory IV fell into position just above and to the right of the Praetor, an unprecedented amount of brilliant green energy began to erupt from what remained of both ships weapons. Streaking through the hazy atmosphere of the planet below as the two vessels settled comfortably within the planet's atmosphere.
[member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Janick Beauchamp"] [member="Fabian"] [member="Aryn Teth"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Ra Vizsla"] [member="Zark"] [member="Yasha Mantis"] [member="Jor Kvall"] (Will add more as they roll through - Was unaware of just which mandos were positioned at the base)
Location: En Route to Dagobah
Allies: GA
Enemies: GE
Objective: Arrive late didn't even mean to show up.
Aedan Miles was beyond angry the unit of Red Fang he had sent with [member="Srina Talon"] had activated something he was sure not even Metus knew they carried indicating things had escalated and the signal meant it wasn't betrayal. No the GA was under attack and he had been on the edge of their space with a portion of the Blood Fleet anyway. Now he was preparing to exit hyperspace and he was beyond angry he was doing a private test of the new command ship he had gotten with only members of the Blood Fleet present as well as his son who was acting as opposition. Finding out that the GA was being attacked by the neighbor of the CIS while Aedan's family was there had caused him to almost lose it dispatching his son and the rest of the Blood Fleet to proceed and strike out at the GE home planets while they were busy fighting their war against the GA. He had choosen a small force for himself that would serve as a Quick Reaction Force his eyes flicked down to the datapad in hand describing each ship he had choosen to take and what they were filled with fighter wise. Nodding his head as he looked over them he stopped smirking as he pressed a button one of the Cragmaloids in the unit sent with Srina stepping back and pulling out a holo disk quickly looking down. "Sire please say you are in route we are under attack by the GE and need reinforcements on the ground." Aedan smiled reassuringly at the Cragmaloid as he nodded his head slowly smirking savagely. "Yes I am en route will leave hyperspace any moment and will send a drop pod ship to dispatch reinforcements immediately while the shuttles and drop ships prepare to disembark with more."
He spoke for a few moments longer with the Cragmaloid getting a brief understanding of what it looked like before dismissing the soldier back to his job as Aedan stood up and activated fleet wide communications. "My brothers and sisters in the Blood Fleet listen to me. Our family from the CIS has joined one of our neighbors in an attempt to open friendly talks and have a friend in the galaxy. They joined with every intent of helping them with their war games on this day only someone has rudely interrupted them and put our family at risk. OUR FAMILY MY BROTHERS AND SISTER! THEY ARE NOT ONLY THREATENING THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE BUT OUR FAMILY! WE WILL NOT LET THIS STAND WE WILL NOT STAND IDLY BY WHILE THEY ATTACK AND SHOOT AT OUR FAMILY! We are due to arrive the Dagobah system shortly from there we will be moving to not engage but destroy any enemy fleets in the system. I want Wyvern, Hatchling, Drake, and Dragoon to escort the Apocalypse to the planet so it can dispatch immediate reinforcements to the planet below before fleeing. From there it will leave the system to refill no drop pods and troops before returning our staging area has my usual series of freighters standing by with more ground forces. The rest of us. We will do what we do best we will make them regret EVER ATTACKING OUR FAMILY!" Aedan turned away from the viewport knowing that across his ships his men and women would be angry and desperate to save the people from the CIS if the Corsair Brotherhood and more specifically Blood Fleet cared about anything strongly it was one thing. Family.... Family meant everything to the Blood Fleet most of them had been alone before joining Aedan and now they had a large and extensive family when someone threatened that family they reacted almost as Berserkers. Tying that in with his Battle Meditation would make them an almost unstoppable force in the galaxy one that the GE would regret angering.
With a sudden lurch as the ship left hyperspace Aedan turned around his normal violet eyes almost crimson with the inner anger he felt as he looked down on the planet. His family was down there the people he cared about and he had heard rumors that yet again the Mando'ade had shown they have no honor by betraying those who trusted them. Sneering disdainfully at the thought of the once honorable Mando'ade he shock his head turning his gaze instead towards the fleets of the Galactic Empire as they traded fire with two fleets from the Galactic Alliance his force set off to the side from them looming like a beast that had been awoken. Aedan Miles strode forward activating system wide communications as he lifted his head a bit his voice the only thing sent to everyone. "To all Galactic Alliance personal and their allies this is Aedan Miles Pirate King and Admiral of the Blood Fleet. I recently received word while training near by that you were under attack and rushed to provide aid. To the foolish Empire I feel I should warn you that you have awoken a beast and while the shepherds are away the wolves shall play. As we speak the rest of the Blood Fleet is striking out from various staging areas directed by my son as they set out to ravage your planets due to your own foolishness. You have attacked my family by attacking this planet and for that you shall pay the ultimate price. The Blood Fleet goes not to pillage and loot but to burn and destroy as much as possible in the time they have." As he spoke he gestured with his hand watching as the Four Dire-class Patrol ships the Hatchling, Wyvern, Drake, and Dragoon broke off escorting the Wodrata-class pod carrier the Apocalypse towards the planet in a looping fashion away from the fight. The rest of his fleet formed up with the Shield-class Cruiser Aegis in the front activating its umbrella shield the Jahaatir Electronic Warfare frigate the Disruptor moving to hover below and behind the Inexpugnable-class Tactical Command Ship the Apothesis in front near the Aegis rested the last of the Dire-class Patrol ships he had brought the Guardian. Behind it sat one of the Ton Falk-class Escort Carriers the Raven's Nest all ships that carried them launched their fighters and gunships filling the space around them with a sea of fighters it would seem.
Poodoo has burst on-scene when the Pellaeon arrived. Within heavy turbolaser range from the Compellor, which was about how close a SSD could safely get to the planet. Under the heavy fire from the enemy SSD, which was about to be rammed at full power from the Incandescent Truth charging, the battlecruiser was hammered mostly to its starboard, with the point-defense from various sources, such as the Serenity and the Meditation, not to mention the Swan Lake and the Chiloon squadrons, hard at work shooting at the missiles, but some missiles still hit the starboard superstructure, narrowly missing some guns in the process, with the point-defense missiles being fired at the enemy fighter squadron. Janick hoped that the commandant of the Dagobah Shipyards, one female Mirialan padawan, that which she could feel as a beacon of hope in the distance, was able to get out of this situation alright, or even just alive and outside the clutches of the GE. And that the commandant of the shipyard would also accept. The witch needed no reminder of the operational freedoms granted to Jedi among the GADF, or how few Jedi that actually exploited those. But the comfort of the enemy rearguard, that is, the Abracadabra and the Resolution, exploding in the distance, behind them, was limited; the Vigil somehow slipped past, and was immediately fired at once the remaining enemy rearguard frigate was on final approach, not realizing that the debris from its own attack would buffet the attacker. Gutting the central hangar caused debris to fly, and the path of least resistance meant that there were more debris sent flying in the Vigil's direction than in any other direction, some pieces being big enough to penetrate or at least dent the enemy frigate's hull.
"By killing the enemy SSD we can ensure that the enemy morale is killed"
"How are we to deal with the enemy SSD?" Wololo asked.
"Stay out of point-defense range; Alakaha squadrons, we're going to dive-bomb the Pellaeon! These Imps will soon be one with the Force!"
"Roger, Alchemist Actual"
But because the Vigil was at point-blank range, and latched on to the Compellor's underside, the Serenity and the Meditation were able to have a clear shot at the Vigil's underside, especially since the Compellor was a slow-moving hulk, but still faster than the Pellaeon. With that said, the long-range batteries of the Compellor were opening fire at the enemy flagship, with the rest of the fleet's long-range fire following suit, for over 2,000 turbolasers' worth of long-range fire directed opposite of where the Incandescent Truth was going to impact, under the form of heavy turbolasers of several varieties, heavy HVCs. And all five squadrons of droid bombers flew along with it, trailing the seven organic-piloted squadrons in their attack run with the goal of unleashing an additional 95 heavy proton bombs on its dorsal hull. And then Janick, alongside the seven squadrons, began to fly well above the Pellaeon's plane, while remaining mindful of not approaching the enemy point-defense range, closing in on an area near the probable impact point between the Pellaeon and the Incandescent Truth.
"We're going in, full throttle! We shall make them pay for such a reckless deployment! Bothawui shall be avenged!"
"Bothawui shall be avenged!"
Once they were directly overhead the SSD, the dive began, and the attack came in two waves: the operators of the droids elected to trust Janick in her daring attempt to breach the SSD's hull, and maybe even sever it in two. If this plan works, I may as well have earned that promotion, and then I may as well command all squadrons of all fighters attached to the Verdict's battlegroup and not simply the Verdict alone, she thought, while nosediving her craft. As she reached the point where she could safely pull up without getting caught in the bomb's blast, she dropped the first of a whopping 179 heavy proton bombs, which each had a 400-meter blast radius, forcing each and every one of those craft not to stray too close from the target. Also, the 16 stealth MIRVs arced after launch, presumably unseen by enemy sensors, undetected, and those MIRVs were going for the section where the bulk of the bombs were dropped at, and splitting up into seven concussion missiles about half a kilometer above the designated areas on the SSD.
Had the point-defense engage the missiles and enemy fighters
12 squadrons went into a dive bombing attack on the Pellaeon
Location: FOB
Objective: Dear Gods make it stop
Allies: Anyone who has an aspirin
"Enough with the karking noise already," Margaret groaned, as something exploded quite nearby.
Her head was pounding. Her feet were soaked through by this point, because, in her drunken stupor, she forgot to put on her swamp waders. She'd stepped in enough unidentifiable muck by this point that she was pretty sure her socks smelled of brown and green. Her mouth tasted of acid. Gods, she'd kill for a breath mint.
The sounds of battle assaulted her throbbing skull with hurricane force, each new concussion sending a fresh spike of agony through her temples.
"This is hell," she muttered. "I've died and gone to hell."
Fortunately, her map showed some kind of forward operating base nearby. As a rule, the Jedi didn't like dealing with the military anymore than they liked dealing with her. Didn't matter whose military it was, they all tended to frown upon a supposed Jedi Master who could outdrink the crustiest of Sergeants Major and mouthed off in front of flag officers. She knew it was a bad habit, one that ran counter to the dignified and serene part of the Jedi reputation, but she was far too old by this point to care.
Right now though, she was willing to do terrible, horrible things for an aspirin. Including, Gods forbid, asking nicely.
There was apparently some kind of pitched battle going on inside the FOB. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out exactly what was going on. Every time she tried to look at something, it went kerplooey, and the bright flashes only served to further enhance her misery. Finally, she stumbled across a Mandalorian. She didn't know who it was. She'd never learned to tell one from another when they were all armored up.
But hey, they were supposed to be allies, right? She didn't technically work for the GA, but they didn't have to know that.
"Psst. Hey, buddy. How's it going? You got an aspirin?" she called out over the sounds of the fighting. She tried for a dramatic stage whisper, but it came out more as a strangled holler. Which, of course, made everything hurt even more. Her throat felt like it had just been ripped apart from the inside by an angry cactus. "And maybe a cough drop?"
Side: The Galactic Alliance
Allies: Galactic Alliance | Confederacy | Mandalorians | Etc.
Enemies: Galactic Empire
Location: Outside "Home Base" scanning the horizon via drone relayed coordinates, Dagobah
Team: Red Team (relevant to CIS)
Radio silence, dense fog and the unmistakable feeling that nothing was going quite right. Even as she considered these things, the young agent continued through the bog towards the tree she had selected. It wasn't, by any means, big but it was one she could suffice as a tactical vantage point. It was tall enough for her get a decent angle and it was wrapped enough by the foliage and murky fog that she didn't fear being seen too easily. Even still she couldn't help a twinge of concern as she considered the condition of the others she couldn't readily assist. What could one do when positioned so far back and away from the fighting that was about become heated?
Shaking hear head, dismissing the thought, she pulled herself further up the tree and readied her rifle once she'd made proper nest. Three rounds and moisture intake, quick repairs were needed and she had little time to do it in. But, compared to the other tasks she knew were coming to hand, she was confident that she could complete the repairs. It was the arrival of information from her drones that drew her attention away long enough not to be driven insane by the complexity of her rifle. Proximity alert, message relay and a variety of other signals pinged through the vambrace on her right wrist as she scanned the foggy perimeter.
Troopers, AT-ATs and bombardment of a forward command. With a blink she processed the sudden information, her brain finding it difficult to wrap around the radical change in factors. Even still, as she finished emptying the valve of moisture residue, the young agent primed her rifle and prepped it to fire; training her sights into the fog once more and following the directed coordinates of the drone hovering over the position of the troops she had fired upon before. However, this time, there was something else to be considered in the further distance. Aces in the hole were valuable but she wasn't sure she wanted to use hers in light of current conditions. Skiss was ready, but that wasn't saying much.
Three more shots, two point five second intervals and hopefully all were clean. Lowering the rifle once more she turned to her left vambrace. Little had come from it since she had arrived, and even less seemed to be relevant to the situation at hand. Each signal was the same as those from the right drone. Only one thing was different, the left drone could be used to identify the cause of the bombardment.
And so, as she scanned over the data and prepped her rifle for more rounds, she retreated into a crook in the tree and prepared. Every second counted.
Dagobah 851 ABY DT-2417 Call-sign Pestilence Actual Post Three Objective: Survive Engaging: [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Dalton Kenway"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | [member="Aya Clarke"]
If you were a better person, you wouldn't be here.
Pestilence waited until the smoke cleared to push forward, each Death Trooper waiting to charge into the enemy and take them down with zeal and continue to push on. Across the line, each black-clad trooper checked their gear and prepared to move, covered in the muck and dirt of Dagobah's swamps, leaving its watery mark upon the dark canvas that was the armor of Pestilence. DT-2417 himself was ready to advance and push himself onward to eliminate the threats that they could hear past the smoke. Switching to thermals, they noticed the number of signatures that remained covered by normal sight thanks to the smoke screen deployed by the Death Troopers that slowly began to dissipate with each passing second. No emotions were shown nor were there any capacity to allow such things to seep through the cold exterior of Pestilence; those beyond the smoke screen were the enemy, lecture upon lecture had put that message deep within their subconscious to the point where thinking any different was near impossible. Closer they came, it would only be a few more steps before they were right where the Major wanted them.
This dream was shattered suddenly as with no warning three shots seemed to shoot right through the trees and the foliage of the swamp and hit their marks. Three shots, three downed troopers. The shots had been completely on their mark, the shots ripping through the helmets and leaving their bodies to fall limp and become overrun with the swampy marsh that washed over the now lifeless corpses. This first strike by the enemy took Pestilence but more so DT-2417 himself off guard; having no idea just how the shots had been so precise. It was in this few moments of chaos and confusion that the barked garbles came across and Pestilence began to open fire at unspecified targets as chaos began to reign over their actions, the response in favor of rapid response rather than slow and tactful. As the smoke quickly cleared away from the sight-lines of the skirmish, Death Troopers clashed with Commando Droids and Craglomoids yet they now realized that their targets since the start of their insertion were the ones that they were now fighting. Blaster fire was exchanged and no doubt both sides would begin to inflict casualties. It wasn't until the Vicelord, Darth Metus himself threw a sonic grenade and whilst the Death Troopers dug themselves in expecting it to be intended for their own lines, it instead detonated and begun bringing a tree down atop Pestilence's heads. Despite scrambling to get out of the way and thus breaking their defensive line, yet another several troopers perished to being crushed beneath the tree in addition to causing yet another obstacle in their advance.
Things weren't looking good for the Death Troopers and, in the midst of the chaos, time seemed to slow itself down for one of them in particular.
DT-2417 had always been a loyal servant of the Empire. Before he was just another black-clad trooper, he was known as Vestille Thumahra, a simple child born upon the world of Rishi. Time after time, his parents spoke of the honor to serve and be a patriot of the Empire, to fight for it, to die for it. This ideal, from day one of his life, was all he knew and put his trust into. From a child to walking into that enlistment center and joining the ranks as a member of the Imperial Military, the training, the faces that surrounded him, the forge that hammered ideals into zealous belief, put a bright young kid into a place where a respect of his father who died for the regime he died under was used to strengthen his belief in the banner that flew over his head, the belief that he was doing the right thing. Then the individualism was locked away, banished in the favor of a mind filled with only the Imperial Doctrine and an unshakable will and desire to carry out an order, no matter how morally incorrect it might have been, his body would move to the beat with no thought as of the consequences of his actions. In those very swamps that surrounded him and became the graves of more and more of his men, it was the catalyst that perhaps had been a long time coming. Like seeing a bloody reflection of one's self for the first time, twisted into something that resembled more of a machine than a human, just how far had he gone? In the slow motion of the events that surrounded him, comrades fell beside him, chaos reigned yet he was powerless to stop it, the situation was out of his control but doctrine never explained how to deal with it. The abyss opened wide to swallow him whole.
The Death Trooper's fall into his personal pit was short lived, however, as one of his men dived in to save the man from his end by the hands of a Commando droid, getting the Major into cover before right before his eyes he witnessed his savior get gunned down in an attempt to rejoin the fray, another closed the gap with a white haired woman, only to have the very blade he threw find its way into his chest and pushed in deeper before he become food for the planet itself, quite literally, the gruesome scene playing out right in front of the delirious mind of DT-2417 as he lay in the corner out of harms reach. His troopers kept fighting despite the near constant drawbacks thrown against them. Support eventually came, a shuttle moving to drop a single AT-ST walker behind the scrambled line of Death Troopers to give additional support to try and turn the tide, though from the looks of it things weren't looking good for Pestilence. All it took was a single grenade near his position and through the chaos and scrambling, there was nothing he could have done.
The blast washed over his body and sent his head smacking into something he never saw coming.
Location: 'Red Home Base' Objective: War Games Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | GA | CIS | Mandalorians et al Enemies: [member="DT-2417"] | Galactic Empire et al CIS Team:Red [member="Kip Hollaran"] | [member="Lyra Sunfell"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | [member="Sol Stazi"] | [member="Prime"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Mirvak"] | [member="Akabane Jarvik"] | [member="Srina Talon"]
Dalton stayed to the front of the base perimeter, as the others fanned out.
He could hear more and more communication cutting through the frequencies of the com stations behind him and more and more it sounded like this wasn't just war-games at all. Shots from a rifle turned his head into the thick swamp, narrowing his eyes to see what he could. They were not shots of somebody firing by mistake; they are shots AT something. A target, plain and simple.
”To hell with this,” he said.
Dalton shouldered the rifle and quickly retreated back to the others at the base, and grabbed the two-way radio system to reach the others.
”All Confederacy allies, this is Dalton Kenway at the Red Home Base. I've got members of the unit breaking off in all directions, we've got what sounds like bloody walkers and machines in the far distance and we've got broken trasnmissions coming from up above and we are here playing hide and seek.”
The former General sighed, looked to the others, and composed himself with a steely tone in his voice.
”Will someone please tell us what the hell is going on out there.”
Jor's wrist communicator blinked simultaneously with others in the room. He silently looked down and read the short message, then closed the channel. He looked back up, and from behind his helmet, he smiled.
He would finally get the loot he was promised.
[member="Ra Vizsla"] most likely knew that this was the most opportune time to change plans, as Jor was probably not the only Mandalorian growing restless. The long slog through the marshes to the Alliance base, and indeed this entire Dagobah adventure, had been eventless so far for them. The Mandalorians were promised battle and loot. Now they would finally receive it. And Jor did not need to be told twice to attack Jedi supporters.
The Mandalorian attack inside the base was a sudden, brutal onslaught. Jor trained his slugthrower rifle on the first Alliance soldier he saw and mercilessly pumped two rounds through his skull. He had heard the Alliance equipped their men with some nice armaments, including armorweave and HUD systems in their helmets. All of which would make a fine addition to his own arsenal.
Starship: I.N.V. Pellaeon, Admonitor-class Super Star Destroyer
Location: Dagobah System ---> Hyperspace
Status: Hard Grexit
No amount of simulations, no amount of battle experience could've ever prepared Graf for what had transpired over Dagobah in the opening hours of the Great Galactic War; For a proclaimed tactical genius, Rear Admiral Thrael was an idiot in the old man's eyes. "Primary and secondary shields have collapsed, moderate hull damage in fore sections, our weapons were temporarily disabled by a feedback loop." A technician called from the crew pit as the bridge of the star dreadnought shook violently, the collision of the Incandescent Truth and the bombing runs from the remaining Alliance fleet.
Was this going to be the inevitable downfall of the father of the Empire? Betrayed by his subordinates and left to be picked off by the vultures? His thoughts weren't even interrupted in the slightest as Alliance bombers and starfighters crashed into the superstructure of the vessel, picked off gradually by the point defence barrages. "Send a fallback signal to our fleet, the ground forces can continue their operation as they have the highest chance of success," Graf began with a heavy heart, the burden of the situation exerting tremendous pressure on his mental faculties, "If we can manage to muster another fleet, one less prone to the bravado of defection, we will return. But for now, the Empire has lost space superiority due to the shortcomings of its commanders."
"Making the jump to Hyperspace in several seconds, sir." The ship's first officer notified, leaning over to observe data readouts from consoles. The thousands of turbolasers ceased firing, sparing their targets from absolute destruction, as a massive void in space was created with the Pellaeon's sudden departure.
Galactic Alliance landing crews bustled in their hectic chase of a success for the invasion, running around like chickens after feed. Not even turkeys. They weren’t that big. Ra Vizsla’s Ward stood outside the Forward Operating Base, the mud of Dagobah dripping down the knees of her new beskar’gam and onto the duracrete of the landing pad.
The same duracrete which was about to get sticky with another substance. Something as red as Ra’s visor. The moment the word from Ra came in, Yasha and the Mando’ade beside her started firing on the Galactic Alliance ground troops.
Being twelve had it’s advantages and complications. One of the largest of these was the inability to understand the grand scheme of the universe at large. One could say twelve year olds once shaped the galaxy. Queen Amidala was twelve, when she dealt with the Nemoidian Blockade. Jedi Padawans by twelve were well versed in battle, diplomacy, in following the orders of their Knights and Masters. Mando’ade children by the age of twelve were one year from their Verd’goten, their Rite of Passage, which ushered them into cultural adulthood.
A Force Dead twelve year old in beskar’gam turned at [member="Margaret the Grey"]’s stumbling and shouting. She looked as drunk as the swamp, and half as capable of taking her down. The girl hucked a lollipop at Margaret and waited the second to see if she'd unwrap it.
Yasha rounded her shotgun on the Jedi Master less than 5 feet away and fired at close range. She pumped another shell, and fired again.
Location: Forward Operating Base
Objective: Still looking for that aspirin
Allies: Seriously, someone has to have an aspirin. It's a freaking battlefield. Who doesn't carry painkillers of some kind? Is it because it's a blood thinner? Blaster bolts cauterize. Gods, people, help a sister out.
Enemy: [member="Yasha Mantis"]
Rule number one: never trust a child who gives you candy.
Rule number two: if you're going to trust a child who gives you candy, you deserve what you get.
Children are, by and large, bastards. They're loud, noisy, selfish, mean, and disrespectful. As far as Margaret was concerned, this phase of life existed from the ages of 1.5 (one can't really blame the really young babies, they're too cute for that) to approximately 36. So, naturally, she was less than trustful of the lollipop. Besides, she had a feeling the sugar would send her retching again. One must be careful how one breaks one's fast after drinking.
"What? No, that's not a-"
BOOOM!
The shotgun thundered, and Margaret's head felt like it was going to spontaneously combust from the pain. Not because she was shot, mind. As soon as the shotgun came around, the Jedi called up an angled wall of Force between the two. It only existed for a brief moment; the focus necessary to sustain a wall of that nature was far beyond her addled brain, at least for now. But, fortunately, it only had to exist for an instant.
Had Margaret tried to stop the shot dead, it would have likely punched through the barrier, and her. However, it's a hell of a lot easier to deflect a projectile than stop it cold; the cloud of shot caromed wildly into the ether, landing Gods knew where.
The barrier did nothing to shield her from the noise, which battered her brainpan like a blow from a sledgehammer.
"ARGH!" she snarled, dropping to one knee. As the pint-sized mercenary chambered another round, Margaret reached out with the Force for the nearest available object with which she could whack the child across the, er, helmet.
BOOOM!
"KARKING-"
The shotgun fired again. This time, the aging Master let her bekarkled equilibrium do the work, and lurched forward into a roll. The pellets buzzed over her head like a cloud of angry hornets. As she came up, she flailed violently with her right hand, attempting to bring the object in her Force-y grasp into contact with the Mando's nose.
"RUDE!"
The object in question appeared to be a rolled up newspaper. It seemed fitting.
Mirvak hunched his huge form low to the fog and advanced quickly and quietly towards [member="Darth Metus"]. If his knuckles could turn white, they would, as he gripped his lightsaber tightly, his predatory gaze sweeping the smoke in front of him. He settled behind a tree to the left of the Darth and [member="Srina Talon"]. He clung to the tree, leaning out slightly to peer into the smoke. His ears pricked up again as he heard the sloshing of footsteps, and blasters being switched off their safeties. Mirvak narrowed his eyes, pulling his head back into cover, his force attuned senses telling him he was vulnerable to being shot. In typical antisocial fashion, he offered nothing to the conversation between his fellow apprentices and his master, regarding them with a furrowed brow. Looking back towards the smoke, he could see some black clad figures moving into cover as it dissipated slowly. He snarled, eager to finally battle after countless bloodless training sessions.
He looked to his right as Darth Metus suddenly lobbed a sonic grenade, exploding the base of a large tree and crushing several Death Troopers. He sensed [member="Srina Talon"] go up the right flank as she turned invisible to the naked eye, and hearing his master's call to action, he let out a blood curdling roar. He moved to the left as the droids acted as cannon fodder for the Confederate attack, trying to mirror Srina in order to enact a simple pincer movement on the enemy. He lunged from tree to tree, his right arm swinging erratically as it deflected incoming blaster fire. Within a few moments he reached the edge of the Death Trooper platoon's left flank, and performed a right face, charging headlong into the imperial soldiers. Within a few leaping strides, he was already on top of a trooper, slamming him down into the muck with his lightsaber embedded into his chest. The Worgian sensed danger, a garbled scream coming from his right, and within an instant he turned and stood up from his kneeling position, swinging his lightsaber as he did. He sliced the blaster rifle that was just an instant away from putting a bolt into the back of his head. The wolf swung again with about as much grace that could come from the angered Sith-beast, slicing a deep gash across the trooper's chest plate.
He raised his foot and kicked the fatally wounded trooper back into the muck carelessly. The Worgian proudly strode forward, a permanent snarl on his face as he looked to slay more death troopers caught up in the fight against the confederate droids. Suddenly, a garbled yell from his left caught his attention. A death trooper came out from behind a tree and lobbed a thermal detonator right at Mirvak. The wolf crouched down and instinctively rose his hands, calling on the force to shield him from the detonator. It went off on top of him as the death trooper had planned, a shockwave throwing water and smoke around his position. The death trooper rose his rifle, approaching the spot where the wolf had been, and as it was impossible to see through the smoke he switched to thermals. Instead of seeing a crumpled mess lying in the muck, he saw a large red and orange form bearing down on him. Before he could fire, Mirvak had struck him, his claws sinking into the death troopers sides as the beast tackled him into a tree, dying bark flying off as the wolf slammed him into it. The wolf's pupils were dilated as he roared so loud it almost blew out the audio receptors in the trooper's helmet. As soon as the roar had subsided, Mirvak proceeded to headbutt the trooper several times, until the helmet gave way and the black blaster proof glass shattered. Mirvak took the trooper by the neck, his claws dripping with the mans blood, and threw him down violently into the muck. The beast allowed his head come back up for air once, before he stomped it viciously back into the mire.
The beast, barely holding a conscious thought in his primitive, rage induced state, saw the AT-ST being dropped by the shuttle. Perhaps if not enraged, he would avoid it, but now, he was more than beyond that sort of rationale. His eyes caught sight of a tree with many branches, easily climbable by even a huge Worgian like himself. He dropped on all fours, leaping and bounding towards the tree, hoping to climb up it and get an opportunity to drop down onto the top of the AT-ST.
A keen-eyed observer might note the shift in her stance at his approach. The sharpened claws of a predator retracted for the moment, and hostility bled away.
“Ye—”
:: Er, boss?” ::
“What.” She held her partner back with a hand on his shoulder – a gesture that would get anyone else smeared over the nearest rock.
:: That flagship? It, uh… it left. ::
“Didn’t it jump in a minute ago?”
:: Uh, yeah. Yeah it did. :: The pilot’s helpless shrug could be heard over the comms. :: You still want al-Bal? Or pickup? ::
Aver licked the back of her teeth – relished the taste of salt.
“Nah, kark it. Hang back for now.”
:: You got it. Happy hunting, boss. ::
There went her anniversary gift. Should’ve known it was too good to be true. Before she could take out her frustrations on the few imps remaining in the area, the other frequency chimed up.
Chatter on the Alliance lines, this time. And boy, was it interesting.
Blue eyes glinted behind the faceplate as she tugged her companion closer, fingers hooked behind his pauldron.
The Mandos shot ‘em in the back. Expressed with entirely too much delight, probably. The Equalizers were getting a pretty penny out of this, though. You knew the galaxy was heading straight into the crapper when the ex-Sith mercenaries were the ones that honored their contracts.
