Invasion This is the Way || ME Invasion of DIA-held Yaga Minor

[Aselia Verd]

Armor:
Aselia Verd's Jurkad'gam

Armament:
Basilisk War Droid
DR-04DB Class-D Disruptor Rifle
ML-04 Missile Launcher
Striilir-class Brilliant Missile x 5

Objective: III

The gravemarks surged at her from behind, the basilisk reacted before she could, turning hard and activating its repulsors, it would look like an animal leaping into the air to them. The shockwave from the rounds impacing the earth behind her rattled her and the basilisk but it didn't cease the momentum. "Adelle, we are wasting our time here. Breaking off and going after that space elevator. I don't have the kit to deal with those shields or anti-missile systems."

The basilisk surged forward in a low, violent sweep, repulsors flaring as she threaded through broken streets and rising smoke. Incoming fire tried to bracket her movement, but she refused to hold a straight line long enough for anyone to solve her trajectory.
Speed was survival.

As the elevator's towering frame came into view its immense spine vanishing into haze and debris above Aselia pulled the basilisk into a hard vertical climb. The war droid responded instantly, rocketing upward to gain altitude and angle rather than trailing the armored column on the ground.
Her HUD flickered under interference static bleeding across targeting grids she switched to partial manual control without hesitation. Visual confirmation was enough.

She leveled out into a high altitude around the elevator's lower structure, banking wide to line up a clear angle.
she said calmly. "Target structural supports. Precision fire."

The cannons adjusted.
Then opened up.

Heavy bolts hammered into the lower support pylons not randomly, not wildly but in tight, controlled bursts along connection seams and load-bearing interfaces. She walked the fire across bracing joints and reinforcement lines, keeping her orbit tight and mobile while maintaining pressure.

The basilisk rolled smoothly into a lateral strafe, continuing to rake targeted segments along the base structure while staying too fast and too high to be easily bracketed. Repulsors flared as she compensated for recoil and crosswinds, keeping her firing arc steady despite interference.
Below, the ground approach would no longer be clean.

She banked sharply, repositioning to maintain overwatch and adjust angles as needed.
"Targeting the supports at the base of the elevator, if you are in it or near it better get clear." her voice carried over military channels.

The basilisk roared again, cannons thundering as Aselia continued her controlled steady orbit around the structure looking to drop the damn thing on the convoy.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall
​

 

[Tarn Ekkard]

Location

: Santhe-Sienar Shipyards, Yaga Minor
Thread Objective: When the Sky Falls​

Mission Objective Kill Mandalorians on the station. The tower is the main refugee and citizen escape portal.
Allies: N/A Directly
Direct Engagement: Avast Verd Tyr Mereel

---

The seam in the shields opened and the Mandalorian came through it with violence.

Reacting as quickly as he could before being stabbed in the heart, the DISFC commander put his hand up in defense. The vibroblade drove straight through Tarn's palm. There was a sharp crunch through reinforced glove and bone as the tip punched out the back of his hand. Blood followed immediately, running down his wrist and dripping from his elbow.

He did not recoil.

Instead of pulling away, Tarn forced himself forward into her space. His injured hand tried to close around her wrist and failed to fully obey him, fingers half-locking as the vibration of the blade tore through torn nerves. He used the motion of her strike to drive her knife arm upward, letting the weapon rip free from his hand as he shoved her forearm toward the ceiling.

He dipped under her raised arm before she could retract it.

His shoulder aimed into her centerline and he stepped tight against her side, forcing her blade arm hopefully high and straight above them both. His wounded hand slipped off the knife entirely and began doing his best to reach around Avast's belt for more knives, guns, or grenades. An active combat search. Un-harmed hand trying to find and lock around her other wrist.

"On me!" he barked.

Two troopers from the second line broke formation immediately. They abandoned their firing positions and crashed into the melee, boots skidding taking over the noise of blaster fire from the Diarchy side. Not many left after the three now taken out by the rotary cannon. One attacked her knife wrist with both hands, attempting to wrench it outward and prevent the blade from coming back down. The other drove low into her flank, arms attempting to warp around her waist and hip plates, trying to cinch her against Tarn's armored frame and limit her leverage. - Of course she would have her reactions to the attack and the men were doing their best to react in real time.

Someone grunted. A helmet rang as metal collided with beskar. The crush of bodies tightened.

Behind them, the shield line adapted. Rather than continuing the forward push, the interlocked shields pivoted outward, reforming into a tight arc that faced down the corridor. Rifles lowered as clear firing lanes disappeared. The formation closed in around the struggle instead of pressing ahead, locking edges together and bracing.

Tarn forced the cluster back half a step, trying to keep her between himself and the rotary cannon's angle. Blood slicked his glove and dripped freely now, but his grip held. His visor never left the rest of the corridor.
"Shields hold. No fire."

Bodies pressed tight. Shields locked. Marines crowded inward around their commander and the Mandalorian, attempting to restrict her limbs and pin her in place without collapsing their own formation. It became a contest of leverage and weight.

It was a grinding knot of armored bodies, any clean shot now carrying risk for both sides.

---

• INVENTORY including Troopers.
• LO-VX Va'karis Shield System
• DAF Standard Legionary Combat Armor (S-LCA-1)
• DAF-19 "Vanguard" Rifle
  
  TARN ONLY:
• Myrmidon-Class Armor Phrik based with stealth plating and life-sign scanner
• "Whisperline" Breach Kit – grapple, cutter, and zero-sound detonation foam
• Vibro-Combat Knife"

"I am the law."

 

[Norbert Oro]

The Angels of Meu
Allies - Diarchy, Lilaste forces, Iron Creed
Support -Iron Creed
Current Objective - Assist The Iron Creed
Location - Objective 3 City Ruins
Manpower - 20 Elite Infantrymen
Equipment - LO-20D, LO-44 MKII, LO-RPG20, LO-12S, LO-22S, Beskar Vibro-Bayonet, T9-XO Exo-Suit
Ammunition - LO-AP 19, LO-AVM 1
Current Element Status - 10 KIA, 9 wounded, 1 fighting.

---

Sariel stood silent in the gunship. He didn't agree with him, but he knew the paladin was wiser and didn't wish to fight. He listened to the vessel closely; it was all so quiet aboard that ship. Too quiet. He checked himself; he tried everything in his power to avoid looking at Norbert. Norbert continued to be unresponsive; he wasn't unconscious, but he wasn't conscious either. Many of the Angels feared he was brain dead.

Sariel looked at the Paladin and tried to break the silence:

"Quid nobis occurrendum est? Pluresne Mandaloriani?"

Tag: 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall

 

[Dreidi Xeraic]

​

Objective: 3 - Yaga Minor
Outfit: Nightsister Armour
Equipment: Lightsaber, Ichor Sword and Dathomiri Energy Bow
Opposition: Zinayn

The whip caught the Chiss's ankle. Branding him in a fashion due to the intense heat of the fiery whip, however, he was able to use his katana to slice the whip and disrupt the connection. Causing the green flames around his ankle to cease. Only the small fires burning the fabric would remain. Dreidi was cautious of the katana. It was not a standard metal and there was clearly some imbuement of the Force within it, a fact that only made sense since it was reckless to bring a sword that could not withstand a Lightsaber. And a Force User could imbue any weapon to increase the resistance.

He did not respond to her statements, Dreidi figured the pain deafened her words and she observed the way that the Force flowed through him. She could sense that he was using it to dull the pain, it made sense as she breathed in deeply. It was important that she used her patience, her calm thoughts in the moment and not rush recklessly into the fight. There was still a lot of unknown surrounding what this warrior could do.

When he charged at Dreidi, she instinctively disappeared into a puff of smoke, teleporting out of harm's way. Dreidi's instincts knew that she needed to avoid being in the way and would be far too slow in attempts to block the strike. It was lucky that she was a witch, not a Jedi or a Mandalorian. This fight would have been over in that moment. Dreidi was only alive because of her ability to instantly get away.

However, she did not move far. Appearing behind Zinayn, she pulled out her Lightsaber activating it and stabbing behind him. Aiming for a killing blow, she could not afford to show mercy in the moment and it was clear that Zinayn was not willing to risk the same. "You fight well. If I was anyone else, this would have been your victory." Dreidi whispered, confessing that he skills were something to admire and appreciate. However, she held her own talents and they ensured her survival at this moment.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Location: Santhe-Sienar Shipyards, Yaga Minor Orbit
Thread Objective: When the Sky Falls - Objective TWO
Mission Objective: Kill Mandalorians on the station. The tower is the main refugee and citizen escape portal.
Allies: N/A BUT I RIDE FOR MY DIARCHY
Direct Engagement: Itzhal Volkihar

Claw met claw and the two war mounts tore through plating together. Durasteel split under their combined mass and the outer hull of the structure gave way in a screaming rupture of metal and atmosphere. The Basilisk's weight and thrusters drove them through the wall and into the illuminated industrial chamber beyond.


Rellik had been rising from the saddle when it happened.


He had shifted forward, blade ready to strike at rider and machine alike, but the collision came a fraction sooner than anticipated. The force of it ripped him off balance. The saddle twisted under him and the Diarch was thrown free as the two colossi tangled. He hit the deck hard, rolled across sparking plating, and came up sliding on one knee as debris rained down around him.

Above, Pyrrhax slammed into the Basilisk in a grinding storm of scales and durasteel.

Rellik rose immediately and did not look back long.

"Below," he ordered through the bond. "Tunnel. Hunt."

The Adar resisted for half a heartbeat, rage and territorial fury surging through the link. It did not want to yield the kill. But the command held. Pyrrhax tore free from the wreckage in a violent twist, screeching in defiance as it battered the Basilisk once more before plunging down through fractured decking into the levels beneath, vanishing in a storm of sparks and collapsing girders.

Blaster pistols came up and fired as he advanced across the torn chamber floor. Rellik ignited Conviction in one smooth motion. The golden blade flared to life with a harsh gurgling snap as the first bolts struck it. Red energy shattered against gold, sparks cascading outward and scattering across the broken plating between them.

Rellik kept the blade close to his body, elbow folded inward near his chest, wrist turning just enough to catch and redirect the incoming fire. He did not swing wide. He did not chase bolts. Each deflection was minimal, controlled, angled away rather than theatrically returned. Actually using Makashi over Soresu. And for a very particular reason.

He watched the rhythm of the shots instead of the man. The cadence shifted as footing adjusted across unstable debris. When the tempo broke for the smallest fraction of a second, Rellik moved.

He cut diagonally through the gap between two shots, one bolt skimming past his shoulder plate as another burned through the air where he had been a breath earlier. He drove forward into close range. Using the force to augment his dash forward.

A hard stab aimed directly for the Mando'a's chest.


INVENTORY:

• Single bladed Lightsaber - Conviction
• The Blooded Seer Cloak
• The Consul's Ward - Body Armor
• Spear of the Star-Fallen King
• LO-20D Weapons platform - Ammunition for the LO-20D - LO- AP/19
• Wears a Beige Tunic, Leather gloves/boots.
• Has a utility belt with some basic medical items where he sheaths his saber.
• Comlink
• Datapad
• Pyrrhax

 

[Kallous]

This was not surprising, and it confirmed a suspicion of his.

She preferred staying at distance. Meaning he couldn't give it to her. And he had a way to do that, though that meant he would have to redirect. Instead of bringing his sword down on the durasteel plate she'd brought up as a barrier between herself and him, he instead brought up his foot and landed an empowered kick to the center of the plate, turning that into a projectile weapon of his own that would force her to either stop its momentum or move. And as that thing flew toward its new target he likewise continued his expeditious advance, ready to try striking her through the plate, or to intercept her attempt to evade.

The spears were a problem to be sure, but they were behind him now. Meaning he could outrun them, and perhaps even get his opponent to be interposed between him and them, turning her spears into a hazard for her own safety. Or at least a hindrance on her concentration. They were still a problem to be sure, one he would need to address at some point. But he noticed that of the six only two were left, suggesting that he could destroy them if he needed to. A good little tidbit to keep in his back pocket.

His biggest concern now was closing the distance, getting her into a corner preferably, and overtaxing her concentration. His ability to sink deep into the force's depths, allow the maelstrom of the force around him to both carry him through and to mask his presence would work even better if his opponent was overexerted, focusing on too many things. It would allow him to disappear from her senses altogether, making him practically invisible. Not literally mind, his physical body would still be more than visible, but the woman's ability to sense him would all but vanish if she allowed herself to be occupied by too many things.

And that, if successful, would give him an advantage he was expert at capitalizing.

And to that end, he would call more debris in a wave of shrapnel and flak in her direction, to create a wall of death she would need to deal with on top of the plate he'd kicked and him. It wasn't massive, perhaps eight or ten smaller pieces of metal debris simply thrown with the force at high speed in her direction.

If all went well, this would be enough to provide him with an opportunity. Given the high speed nature of this engagement, it would be miniscule, temporary and hard to capitalize on. But thus far he was on the offensive, and that was where he needed to stay.

Quinn Varanin

 

['Sentinel' Janius Everwall]

Objective III: Escort the Convoy
Supporting Units: Nearby Artillery, Possible CAS/CAP, Marius Hayes, Null 7
Opposition: Adelle Bastiel Aselia Verd
Forces: The Iron Creed 1st and 2nd Squads

The Creed watches as the Mech retreats, some with questioning glances, while the rest ready to move.

"Hostes fugerunt, et nullam habemus viam eos capiendi. Omnes turmae ad primam aciem progrediuntur. Comitatus, progredimini ut cum cursoribus iterum coeatis... Si fortunati sumus, ea sola interruptio fuit..."

"Nonne persequimur?"

"Minime, propositum nostrum alibi est. Alii ignavum tractabunt."

With a sigh, both Leaders begin giving orders to their men once more, escorting the vehicles that had been left to the Runners, Attempting to move on...

​

[Cataphracts]

Armor Integrity	User Health	Armor data	Weaponry Data
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M

[Mud Waders]

Armor Integrity	User Health	Armor data	Weaponry Data
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M

---

Objective: Ensure the AA gun Survives.
Supporting Units: Nearby Artillery, Possible CAS/CAP
Opposition: Korda Veydran
Forces: The Iron Creed 4th Squad

The Paladin's eyes would widen, and for the half second left, she'd turn to her squad behind.

"fra-

And then she'd be flung back, a few feet. The Paladin would be unconscious, and bleeding from a new piece of shrapnel in her head..

Few of the squad remained, the ones that were saved by their armor, and the two just outside of it's radius. The Duo would turn their Miniguns toward a vague location of where the blaster fire would be incoming, then would begin to rake the area with slugs.

Korda Veydran Would go completely unchallenged, just until his stumble against the ground and AA Piece. A Knight would suddenly turn the corner, half his armor gone, alongside his right arm, the stub of which seemed to be stemmed in terms of bleeding due to a makeshift Tourniquet. His movements aren't quick, every piece of his body was straining to move alongside his suit. Slowly, the Knight would approach Korda, limping.

"Mendax...Servivaria...Homiccida...Puerorum N-Necator."​

[Iron Walls]

Armor Integrity	User Health	Armor data	Weaponry Data
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-20DLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M
▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮	T-6 PACA	LO-40RLO-22SLO-10M

---

Objective: Evacuate our Angels
Supporting Units: Nearby Artillery, Possible CAS/CAP
Forces: The Iron Creed 3rd Squad

Norbert Oro
"Probabile est, Murus Ferreus auxilia evocavit, mihi crede libenter videbu-"

A small explosion would be heard, just a few seconds away. The Paladin looks over the pilots' shoulders to see ahead...

"Fratercule, te para... Fratres et sorores tuas ad aedificium medicum ducemus, ut munus tuum perficiatur."

In just a few moments, the Gunship would fly over the site for Sariel...​

 

[Korda Veydran]

The blast was a physical thing, a pressure wave that still vibrated in the marrow of his bones. Korda slammed against the cold, unyielding durasteel of the anti-aircraft battery, the impact knocking the air from his lungs in a ragged whoosh. His helmet, a useless, cracked shell, dangled from his belt, its weight a dull thud against his thigh with every shuddering step. Smoke coiled in greasy sheets, thick with the coppery tang of blood and the acrid stench of melted plastoid and scorched flesh.

A cough tore from his chest, deep and wet, bending him nearly in two. It wasn't just air he expelled; it was a spray of fine, crimson mist that speckled the ground at his feet. He spat, and a thick, dark clot of blood landed with a sickening plop, followed by a thinner, brighter stream that snaked through the grime.

That's when he saw the Knight.
The figure limped from the haze behind a shattered barricade, a wraith in ruined armor. The right side of his cuirass was gone, peeled back like a sardine can, revealing blackened, weeping tissue beneath. His right arm was a ruin, a ragged stump bound tight with a tourniquet already dark and saturated with blood that dripped with a steady, fatal rhythm. Every step was a study in agony, a lurching testament to sheer will. The sound from his helmet was a broken, mechanical wheeze, a death rattle amplified by vox-grille.

"Mendax… Servivaria… Homiccida…" the Knight rasped, the words grinding out through a haze of static and pain. "Puerorum n–necator."
Korda tried to draw a breath and his own body betrayed him, a white-hot shard of pain flaring in his chest so intense his vision tunneled to a pinpoint. He raised a hand, palm out, a gesture of placation that cost him dearly. "Facilis" Korda wheezed, his voice a raw, gravelly thing. "Finis es, frater. fineat"

The Knight didn't break stride. His one good eye, visible through the cracked visor, was fixed with a terrifying, singular purpose.
Korda forced himself upright, his shoulder grinding with a wet pop. "Nullus honor in hoc est," he choked out, another cough rattling his frame. "sine me the aduivare, Noli hoc facere"

The answer was a lunge. It was a pathetic, desperate motion, but it was fueled by the last dregs of a warrior's hate. The Knight swung his remaining arm in a wild, telegraphed haymaker. Korda flowed with it, shifting just enough that the fist whistled past his ear. In the same motion, he dropped low, sweeping the Knight's remaining leg out from under him.

The Knight hit the deck with a thunderous, hollow clang. He tried to push himself up, his remaining arm scrabbling for purchase on the scorched metal. Korda was on him in an instant, grabbing the front of the ruined cuirass and hauling him up, not to fight, but to lean him carefully back against the warm base of the AA battery. The Knight sagged, a puppet with its strings cut, his helmet tilted forward in defeat.

Korda stood over him, swaying, his own blood dripping from his chin to patter on the Knight's breastplate. "non licet tibi me ista vocare" he said, his voice quiet but sharp as shattered glass. He wiped a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his gauntlet. "Non mentior. Venenum est quod ipse bibis."He coughed again, a weaker, drier sound. "Servos non capio. Et liberos non neco. Eos protego. Sola futura sunt pro qua pugnandum est." His breath hitched. "Occido cum necesse est. Cum nulla alia via relicta est."

The Knight lifted his head, his gaze meeting Korda's through the visor. There was no fear, only a grim finality.
Korda gave a single, sharp nod. "cum honored pugnasti"

The motion was swift and economical. Korda's thumb flicked the activation stud on his gauntlet, and the vibroblade shot from its housing with a low, hungry hum. Before the Knight could even register the sound, Korda drove the tip into the soft, exposed flesh at the base of the skull, just above the collar of the armor. The blade's high-frequency vibration did its work instantly, severing the spinal column in a clean, painless stroke. The Knight's body went limp, a final, shuddering breath escaping his vox-grille before falling silent.

Korda remained there for a heartbeat, his hand resting on the cooling armor, his own chest heaving. Then, his strength finally evaporated. He dropped to one knee, the impact sending a fresh wave of agony through his torso. A violent coughing fit seized him, his shoulders shaking as he spat another mouthful of bright, frothy blood onto the ground. Something deep inside his ribs shifted, a grinding sensation that made him grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

He fumbled with his gauntlet controls, his fingers slick with his own blood. "This is Korda Veydran," he rasped, his voice a thin thread cutting through the static. "Any ME medics, respond. Now." He swallowed hard against the metallic tide rising in his throat. "Multiple injuries. Broken nose… ribs are definitely fractured… I think… I think I'm bleeding internally." He coughed again, a wet, bubbling sound. "Still mobile, but degrading fast. Requesting med-evac."

He slumped back against the AA battery, his vision swimming at the edges. The battle raged on around him, a distant cacophony. But for a moment, in the eye of his own personal storm, Korda Veydran just let himself breathe.

Adelle Bastiel 'Sentinel' Janius Everwall Norbert Oro

 

[Avast Verd]

Tyr Mereel Tarn Ekkard

"Oh ya a touchy one on the first date, eh?" came the modulated grunt from Avast from under the helm as Tarn shoved her forearm to the ceiling, the man already geting handsy trying to take off whatever weapons he could find.

"Foreplay is nice. But I like it rough," She growled out, moving against him even as the Diarch defender yelled out.

"On me!" he barked.

"Oh, well, If'in I got your consent to hop right on ya then," she purred out, a wide dusky grin breaking over her face, blood trickling at the corner of it.

Someone hit her from the side hard, her ribs flaring in pain even as the crack of pain told her of the damage as the trooper wrapped low around her waist, hauling her in tight against Tarn's armored frame. Another seized her knife arm, trying to wrench it outward. The vibroshiv screamed inches above their helmets. She lost it, but she wasn't unarmed.

No she never was.

Avast snarled, twisting, trying to bring a knee up, trying to shift her hips for leverage. Just instinct armor, weight, heat, and breath fogging inside her helmet.

It was all about contact points now, baby.

Wrist. Elbow. Hips -- the Force roaring within her in tight, claustrophobic pulses of pain, resolve, anger all tangled up. Emotions rode that wave. Fed it. Fueled it.

Like a glitbiter getting high on that sweet sweet spice.

Avast jerked her head forward and slammed it toward Tarn's visor with a raw desperate yell, aiming for space. At the same time she tried to stomp backward into the trooper at her flank, driving her heel down hard, fighting for even an inch.

Steel ground against steel.

It wasn't clean. It was dirty. Rough. Just bodies locked together in a brutal knot, each side straining for the smallest advantage while the corridor held its breath around them.

And as Tyr continued with the rotary cannon, Avast channeled the force in a surge of power. With a sudden roll of the Force, she let out a massive scream.

Waves of kinetic force went rippling outward from the woman's mouth in a Force scream, shoving outward, trying to overwhelm the aural sensors of her opponents to buy herself some time.

 

[Tyr Mereel]

Avast Verd | Tarn Ekkard​

The formation swallowed her.

Tyr saw the shield arc pivot inward, rifles lowering as bodies compressed into a tight, grinding knot around Avast. No firing lanes. No clean angle.

Damn.

He shifted to move, rotary cannon still in his hands, then froze as the crush tightened further, Tarn dragging her half a step back, using her as cover from the corridor.

No shot.

Blaster fire from the outer edges of the formation resumed, snapping down the corridor toward Tyr and the rest of the squad. Several bolts struck him square in the chest and thigh as he advanced anyway, beskar flaring with violent bursts of light.

“Avast!” he roared over comms. “Close your eyes!”

He didn’t wait for acknowledgment.

Two flash bangs came free from his belt in rapid succession. He thumbed the first live and hurled it high over the clustered shields. The second followed half a heartbeat later, lower, skipping off the deck and into the heart of the knot.

They detonated back-to-back.

White-hot light and concussive thunder ripped through the compressed formation. Sensors shrieked. Audio feeds overloaded. The shield arc faltered, just enough.

Tyr charged.

He plowed straight into the staggered edge of the formation, shoulder-first, using his mass like a battering ram. Blaster bolts erupted around him at near point-blank range, hammering into his back and shoulders as he drove forward. Beskar rang like struck bells, sparks spraying in tight bursts across the melee.

He found her by feel as much as sight, grabbing a fistful of armor at her collar and hip. With a guttural grunt, Tyr wrapped his massive frame around Avast, turning his back to the nearest rifles as another volley struck him square across the spine.

“Move!” he barked.

He wrenched her free of the worst of the crush and heaved her bodily backward, throwing her clear toward the Mandalorian line with the kind of controlled violence only a supercommando could manage.

She cleared the knot.

Tyr did not.

The Diarchy troops surged instinctively to close the gap around him, shields snapping inward again. Rifles tried to come up in tight quarters.

Too slow.

Tyr reached down to his belt one final time and ripped free a fragmentation grenade.

He didn’t throw it outward.

He dropped it at his own feet.

“For Mandalore,” he growled.

The grenade clattered against scorched durasteel between armored boots and interlocked shields.

And Tyr Mereel stood in the center of the formation as the charge armed, rotary cannon rising once more, daring them to hold.