Faction Tower Defense Games

[Luna Terrik]

DESPERATE RESCUE

​

As the sun sets on another day on the desert planet of Geonosis, all would seem relatively normal, save for one location isolated far from any of the great cities of the planet. An older, breaking down stone base crawls with hundreds of droids. B1s, B2s, droidekas, and many, many more patrol the perimeter of the walls. Inside, even more droids marched inside the base’s great courtyard, towered over by the central structure. It’s shadow case a long line over the courtyard and base as it reached out toward the heavens. Inside, a super tactical droid strode through the base’s command center, flanked by a pair of droid commandos. He looked over the screens, metallic eyes eventually settling on only one set of vitals. Luna Terrik’s, their prisoner, and the reason why this desolate base held such importance to these droids.

Nearby, a small FOB had been settled into the mountainous terrain for a daring rescue that was about to take place. The base was well guarded, and any attack would most certainly trigger all of it’s defenses. Even if it’s walls could be breached, by the time they were, the prisoner would have been ex-filled to a new location, and a new search would have to begin. Because of this, the commanders of the CDF and Dauntless had come up with a multi-step plan to not only take the base, but to rescue the prisoner before she could be moved.

A face first attack would be launched, composed of BWFC, Lambda, being Farlorn’s Rangers, and the 701st Mobile Infantry battalion, in an attempt to break through the base’s numerous defenses and to hold the courtyard. Within the stone walls, the droid’s repurposing stations could be found, and the only way to stem the tide of the droid’s reinforcements would be to break through and destroy them. While the attack was commencing, and hopefully, the droid’s attention would be diverted, Dauntless Commandos would be infiltrating the base through one of it’s old sewer systems. Their key was stealth, and to not let the enemy know that they had been breached. The goal of the commandos was to get in, rescue the prisoner, and exfiltrate through the controlled courtyard. If the frontal attack fails, then their only option is to exit back through the sewers they entered into.

It was a bold plan, especially when one considered how dug in the enemy was into the base. The frontal attackers would be faced with artillery, snipers, and a kark ton of droids. Their job was hard, but so was the infiltrator’s. They had to make their way through a packed base without alerting the enemy, and if they did, it would only make their job all the harder.

But then again, nothing was every easy for the CDF, and this training exercise was plenty enough to demonstrate that.

​

OBJECTIVES

Spoiler

CDF Objective 1 – Break the Wall

Expect a fight in this objective. Your job will be to make your way through the open desert, taking cover behind what stone walls and structures you can. Sniper fire and artillery will be raining down upon you, but maybe the gods will smile upon you and your brothers. Break through the defenses, destroy the droid’s replication stations, and hold the courtyard if any reinforcements show up. Even if you cannot make it through, distract the droids as best you can. Remember, you have people in the base. If you are hit during the attack, don’t worry, the droids will only be firing high velocity stun rounds and there will be medics waiting in the wings. It doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt though.

CDF Objective 2 – Crash the Party

This objective might get a bit..sticky. Push through the old sewers and any blockage you might find down there to infiltrate into the droid’s base. Quietly, however, your mission depends on stealth. Vibroknives are encouraged to take down any droids you encounter, and if you are spotted, busting to the prison section is a necessity. If those alarms go off, it will be only minutes until the prisoner is brought to the droid’s underground tram system and sent off before you ever get a chance to rescue her. Once the VIP is rescued, then find your way out. Either the courtyard to call in an ex-fill, or back through the sewers. You will know your best route in the moment.

DRAM Objective 1 – Bring the Boom

It’s time to fight! The sentients wish to take away your fleshy prisoner before you can move her to a more secure location, and that is not approved by the higher ups! Through yourself relentlessly at the oncoming soldiers, because death is meaningless when you have replication stations! Make sure the Dauntless can’t make it to the courtyard, or your infinite lives will be threated, and so will your oil rations! Fail this task, and you will all be turned into spare parts for the Vicelord’s new Casino!

TAGS

Spoiler

OOM-001-JELLYBEAN OOM-002-HONEYCOMB OOM-003-CUPCAKE OOM-004-DONUT OOM-005-ECLAIR OOM-007-GINGERBREAD OOM-008-LOLLIPOP OOM-009-KITKAT OOM-010-JMP OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW OOM-012-NOUGAT OOM-016-ASTRO OOM-018-GEM OOM-314-PIE OOM-069-DOUGHNUT OOM-614-ROSES BX-72967-RAZOR Moe Uilor Anakwor Farlorn Tiria Reinhart Allya Vi'Dreya Subject 73 Red Jasmille Kavos Eva Winburn Startorn Tyran Numeck CT-308 Maverick Ryk Gaelir Tegan Farron Shuklaar Kyrdol Typhan Berrezz Luna Terrik

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

Objective: 2 - Crash the Party
Location: Sewer Entrance
Squad: Alpha Squad
Equipment: Project Xiphos Armor | Modular Tri-Blaster | Micro Light Shield | Bayonet | Comlink | Vibroknife

A droid patrolled the exterior on the outskirts of the enemy stronghold. Perhaps to watch for those like the Dauntless thinking of exploiting an old sewer system. Well, they weren't as ineffective as their personalities suggested at times.

Colonel Reinhart's helmet nodded slightly, and an Alpha Commando activated the signal that would mime activation of a Catch-n-Hold. Taking out the enemy using a blade wouldn't amount to much if the 'killed' droid downloaded into a new body in the center of their base would it? And if the droid had some sort of heartbeat between them to indicate when one of them went down, and they had an assigned patrol route? Again, not a terribly great idea. That's where this handy thing came in. The fake signal wouldn't stand scrutiny forever if the droids were smart, but it should be long enough for a decisive infiltration.

Only once the module was online did she signal another Commando to hurl the vibroknife into the droid's chassis and bring it to the ground.

So the entrance was clear. All they had to do was get every Dauntless unit inside a sewer, navigate whatever hazards existed, locate the prisoner, and extract them. Ideally out the front after the other teams carved a path to the front door. Back out the way they came if need be, and provided nothing collapsed behind them.

Tag: Luna Terrik

 

[Subject 73 Red]

Objective: 2 - Crash the Party
Location: Sewer entrance
Tags: Tiria Reinhart Luna Terrik

Red watched as Colonel Reinhart's Alpha Squad cleared the entrance to the old sewer entrance. Red lay half buried in the sand close-by, camouflaging himself from any snipers scanning the surrounding area around the fortress. His squad, Sigma Squad, sat nearby, also hiding themselves from sight. They couldn't take any chances on this mission, so they had to be careful not to mess up in anyway, or there would be hell. If they were spotted, the enemy might move the VIP prisoner, Luna Terrik, so they had to be sure to leave no trace of their presence.

Red pulled himself out of the sand, and moved forward towards the entrance. His squad followed after him. They took up positions around the entrance.

"In position." Red said. "Orders, Colonel?" He asked Colonel Reinhart.

 

[Anakwor Farlorn]

FARLORN'S FORLORN

CHAPTER SIX: BACK TO BASICS
PART ONE​

Character: Colonel Anakwar Farlorn of The First-and-Only Carian Ranger Regiment
Location: Dauntless FOB
Tags: The Monster Ryk Gaelir Luna Terrik

The wind was cold and sharper than a beskar blade, banging around the tight valleys and deep ravines like a bouncing blaster bolt. It grabbed at their camo-capes with grasping ice-cold fingers and ripped off even their steel-bowled helmet without permission. Their long khaki great-coats could not protect every inch of skin and any nakedness was punished with the bite of the wind.

There was something else to it.

The wind was screaming at them, telling them to turn back for the sake of their own souls. It sang a song of the tragedy and horror that would befall all who continued to march forward through the storm. It had had eons to practice this sick discordant song, singing it like a chorus of sirens. It was a keening tune, like a steam train engaging its breaks on the rail at full-speed. It found crevices, gorges, split rocks, fissures, and worn holes in the craggy cliffs that surrounded them created eons ago by worms. It exploited every advantage it had in the terrain to continue its millennia-old warning.

It wasn’t just the wind that made the environment for the troopers so miserable, it was the sand; the fetching sand. The sand to Geonosis was almost unique, a dark fine ember like aged Correllian wine. It was also extremely course and got in everywhere. If sifted into collars, cuffs, and pants; violated their limb-bindings and gloves; and clogged orifices of every kind, even those where the sun did not shine. It chafed like scrubbing power. Even though their blaster rifles had been built to last, in this relentless environs, they fouled and fatigued, polished chrome and steel turned to worn rough matt, and mechanisms died, until Farlorn had told them to store their weapons in their leather weatherproof-cases. The swirling sand around them made discerning any features nearly impossible. “Back there” became a line of footprints in the sand erased in seconds. “Forward over there” was thick amber mist. They surely would have gotten themselves lost, even with all their experience of tracking the guiding hand of their ancestors in their blood, if not for the elite pathfinders which lead the way, somehow discovering a way to go forward through the sand.

They had been marching for the better part of three hours when their land transports had to halt due to the difficult terrain. Air transport wasn’t an option due to the number of troops needed to be ferried in such a short time and the fear that the enemy might have long-range anti-air capable to being a major threat to them.

“We shouldn’t have to rely on technology to get us where are needed,” The Colonel said to them before they started their arduous march. “Your own two feet should be all you need.”

And so they had gone on, grumbling most of the way in the horrible weather.

“I don't like sand. It's all coarse and rough, and irritating. And it gets everywhere.” Captain Syna of A Company, First Battalion muttered to no-one as he lashed a climbing rope up a crumbling ledge. “You never get chit like this back home.”

“There ain’t any home left,” Corpsman Jantine said as he hoisted himself up, taking the offering hand of his commander to help himself up.

“Yeah, yeah. Just like to whine out my feelings.”

“Like you always.”

Another hour passed of blind marching before a stop was called. Troopers dropped to any place they could and unscrewed the caps of the canteens, savoring the nearly sweet water inside. They spat as well, thick phlegm clogged with sand.

“Do we like this job?” Kallus Khet complained as he took off his boot, emptying the sand inside and wiggling some life back into his toes. “Show of hands.”

“Does it matter?” Marksman Genswick replied. He was cleaning the scope of his sniper-blaster with a polish cloth, silently cursing the sand for placing its hands on his beloved.

At the head of the column, Colonel Farlorn noticed as he slid his plastic wind-visor up to his peaked officer’s cap that the wind had ceased its song, only for a minute. The sand hung in the air but seemed to slowly, but surely begin to settle. This entire environment reminded him of Tatooine, all those years ago during his service with the Zolan during the Great War and just before his command of the Forlorn. Right now, nothing could be compared to the battle he had faced during that War. These days, he could barely comprehend it, even though he had fought through the thick of it. It had seemed so unreal, sand everywhere, so many Confederate dead that they built ramparts up the fortress walls with their own bodies, and the Death Machines - oh, the death machines which had damned so many of his old men to agonizing deaths as their skin burned from the toxic waste they spewed out.

“It’s taking too kriffing long,” Major Fennstrum said. He was a gaunt, dangerous man on the wrong side of forty, best described as looking like a knife. He had made little secret over the years of his hatred of the commander for leaving their world to die and had grown to further dislike him for how he saw his men as mere currency to be spent on the field of battle. Though he had a hard edge, the man cared about his men. It was for this reason the Colonel had promoted him to his second-in-command. At first, it was to keep an eye on him, adhering to the age-old saying of keeping your friends close but your foes closer. After Ryloth, it was to keep himself in check from his darker side, the side that saw his men as tools to be used for his career. Fennstrum was the Farlorn’s personal connection to the rest of the Regiment, a reminder he was still human. “Too long.”

“Give them another minute,” Farlorn whispered.

“And then we’re breaking radio silence.”

Phantoms appeared out of thin air five meters in front of them, figures trekking back to them. The experience would have made anyone jump of their skin, but the pair had been victims to this too many times to be surprised anymore. There were four Pathfinders, the Regiment’s most elite: Hark, Gavin, Culuk, and Pradesh.

Pradesh pulled down the scarf he had wrapped around his mouth and spat out a thick wad of spit, with a disgusting hacking sound that made everyone cringe, before muttering a series of colorful words that his long-dead mother certainly would have fainted at.

“Well?” Farlorn asked.

“We got a visual on the target.” Pathfinder-Master Hark said as she pulled up of sand covered wind-visor. “Intelligence seems to accurate and I don’t think we were spotted. But the sand storm’s dropping.”

“I noticed.”

“We won’t have cover,” said Fennstrum. “We’ll be easily spotted on the approach to the walls.”

“We’ll have to work without any obstruction on our side. Though it would have only visual and the clankers likely have sensors and other toys. It is good news for the artillery though, they’ll be able to get instant feedback to their hits. It'll also help us better co-ordinate without us getting lost and confused during a charge."

“Think that’ll be the best one as well.”

“Same here.” Agreed Fennstrum.

“Pass the word down the line, Major. We’re approaching the assembly point and I’ll further discuss this with the other commanders. We move again in five minutes, I will broker no delay with the men, understand that.”

“Yessir.”

They got up and moved on as asked; three and a half thousand troopers in a long, straggly file in a rapidly fading mist of sand. The wind found its energy again and restarted its song. They had marched for about half an hour when they first laid eyes on it. The target. The Bastion. A daunting prospect, an objective surrounded by thick curtain walls with well-placed bastions and battlements, encircled by open ground save for a few moldering stone walls and remnants of houses. The central citadel itself, decorated by loopholes and onion-shaped roofs, would have been a difficult task on its own. The defenders would be of the kind that could not have their morale broken or their sanity stripped away by the madness of war.

Farlorn pulled out his Marco-binocs and survived the scene kilometers away. If it was him and he had a far larger force than the one he had right now, he would have settled for a prolonged siege: artillery grinding the castle to dust while engineers dug assault trenches closer and closer to the walls. Or better yet, have the whole place annihilated to the atomic level by a five-day bombardment with fire cast down from the heavens.

But he didn’t have the advantage of taking his time nor could he afford utter destruction. There was a VIP imprisoned in the depths of that forsaken place that needed to be extracted, intact.

Once more, he found himself seeing the cursed Eternity Gate again, friends he had known his entire life littering the ground before it with their broken bodies. I will not make that mistake again, though Farlorn, I will not have my men suffer that meatgrinder.

They continued on, at last reaching the FOB and began to unload their gear, ready for the attack. All of them were determined to prove themselves in this exercise. They would show that flesh would triumph over cold calculating steel. Carians had never liked droids in the first place.

Meanwhile, Farlorn and Major Fennstrum called for a meeting inside the base’s holographic command center for the commanders of the other two forces that would take place in the assault. The Colonel might have had rank for this section, but Dauntless prided itself on the fact that many of its commanders were the cream of the crop, picked out from a pool of thousands, and their ability to adapt to any situation.

He wanted to hear their thoughts, their feelings, and any suggestions for an attack plan.

 

[OOM-005-ECLAIR]

Tags: OOM-001-JELLYBEAN | OOM-002-HONEYCOMB | OOM-003-CUPCAKE | OOM-004-DONUT | OOM-007-GINGERBREAD | OOM-008-LOLLIPOP | OOM-009-KITKAT | OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW | OOM-012-NOUGAT | OOM-016-ASTRO | OOM-018-GEM | 00M-042-OREO | OOM-069-DOUGHNUT | OOM-614-ROSES | OOM-314-PIE | OOM-010-JMP | BX-72967-RAZOR | Moe Uilor |

Location: Patrolling the wall

OOM-001-JELLYBEAN was very, very mean to ÉCLAIR.

For the third time today, ÉCLAIR had been assigned to patrolling duties on the wall of their base. The sand was beginning to rust his joints for gears sake! If JELLYBEAN would just let ÉCLAIR patrol the interiors of the base instead, maybe he’d be less likely to rust up. Plus, maybe then he could get a look at the prisoner they were supposedly keeping here. Only those scary commando droids were allowed back there, that deep in the base, though. They were always so mean to ÉCLAIR too. Calling him a rustbucket and other mean names. Just because it might be true didn’t mean they had to be so mean about it!

That didn’t mean he couldn’t wish to be one of those droids eventually though. They were soon cool, and their photoreceptors must let them get at least a .0004% better improvement in accuracy that his! And their bigger torso would have more places for more ammo cartridges! Lugging around these heavy ammo belts in the Geonosian heat was hard enough, but if he had a torso like theirs…

With his head in the clouds, ÉCLAIR didn’t realize that he was about to walk straight into one fo the sniper Droideka’s on the wall until it was much too late. His foot caught on the droid’s outstretched leg, tripping him right over the safety barrier. “Whoa whoa whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!” ÉCLAIR cried out, smacking into the sand at the base of the wall, burying him shoulder deep in the nasty stuff. “Greattttt, now I’ll definitely start rusting. This is going to damage my accuracy by .0012% at the very least!” The droid cried out, muffled by the fact his voicebox was buried deep. Maybe one of his squad would come and help pull him out. As long as it wasn’t one of those meanie B2s. It’d probably rip his leg out too.

 

[OOM-002-HONEYCOMB]

OBJECTIVE: DRAM
LOCATION: En Route to base
EQUIPMENT: Blaster Rifle
TAG: OOM-005-ECLAIR

Luna Terrik would be watching. There was not typically a more pleasing display to be taken into the photoreceptors of the B1 than the a curvy in all the right places fleshbag. Honey was determined to impress for two reasons. First he wanted that promotion, and two Luna Terrik was watching. It was an overreach to think that the redhead might be interested in a droid like Honey, or any droid for that matter, but hey... someone wise once said you have not because you ask not. If Honey was anything, he was persistent.​

​

They were supposed to be transporting a POW of some kind. The mission wasn't clear other than they needed to make sure the prisoner remained secure. To that end several stations were set up in case they needed to reload their memory into another unit. Honey was hoping that did not happen as he was fairly certain the current model he was in performed above average than the others he'd been placed in. Hopefully that would give him an edge with all the sand which was likely going to be problematic.​

​

Speaking of sand...​

​

"That's not how you’re supposed to scale a wall," he said to Eclair. "You look pretty stuck. I might have to get OOM-004-DONUT to blast you out of there. Hold on."​

​

Now if only Honey knew where that pesky demolitions expert was.​

​

"You certainly don't want me to do it..."​

 

[Shuklaar Kyrdol]

AIR ASSAULT ​

​

Asmulr 1-1, Ver'alor Namor Netra, en route to target.​

Objective: Perform SEAD tasking prior to air assault.​

CDC and Allied Tags: Anakwor Farlorn | Tiria Reinhart | Allya Vi'Dreya | Subject 73 Red | Jasmille Kavos | Eva Winburn | Tyran Numeck | CT-308 Maverick | Ryk Gaelir | Tegan Farron | Typhan Berrezz | Luna Terrik​

DRAM Tags: OOM-001-JELLYBEAN | OOM-002-HONEYCOMB | OOM-003-CUPCAKE | OOM-004-DONUT | OOM-005-ECLAIR | OOM-007-GINGERBREAD | OOM-008-LOLLIPOP | OOM-009-KITKAT | OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW | BX-72967-RAZOR | Moe Uilor​

​

Speeding across the dusty, rocky terrain of Geonosis to engage a target was something that Namor never really believed that he'd do. Then again, after Yurb and their battle against the Bryn'adul, he'd learned that the galaxy had a way of subverting his expectations when he least expected them to. He'd participated in war games before, sometimes with backwater militias, but never with a full fledged military force like he was doing now.​

​

Their tasking orders were simple. Neutralize enemy air defences to allow the their transports to close distance and drop friendly forces, as well as to allow Ash'amur squadron to engage enemy artillery positions. There were three other craft with him maintaining an echelon formation as made their way to their target. Once they were approaching maximum engagement range, he raised the other Jai'galaar fighter-bombers in his squadron on the comms, "Asmulr 1-1 to all Asmulr callsigns, we are approaching maximum engagement distance, arm missiles and engage electronic countermeasure systems. Let's get this done! Oya!"​

​

The Manda tactical battlenet informed him that the 'Ga'yusr' Electronic Countermeasure Suite on each of the other craft had been engaged and that their Ruu'y'asa anti-sensor missiles were armed. "1-2 to 1-1, making it fair by letting them know we're coming?" Sensor jammers had the unfortunate problem of letting the enemy know that you were in the wider area once you crossed into medium to short range, where the returns couldn't be hidden as background noise any longer. That, however, didn't mean that the enemy necessarily had a fix on your position.​

​

"1-1 to 1-2, they're droids, sensor identification is how they operate. Besides, don't want to embarrass ourselves and get 'shot down' by droids on an exercise, do we?" The combined chuckles of the rest of the squadron, including Asmulr 1-2's pilot was the answer to his question. "Didn't think so, now let's cut the chatter and have some clear comm." Acknowledgements chorused in through his helmet speakers.​

​

They reached maximum engagement range without event, well out of droid AAA engagement range. Their targeting systems on the missiles located the AAA sites active scanner signatures with ease. Each craft was carrying ten missiles each. More than enough to neutralize any AAA site that posed a threat to the rest of the assault plan. Like clockwork, missiles sped out of their mass-driver launchers and sped towards various different AAA sites with blinding speed on their own engine speed once they were about a quarter of the way. Asmulr squadron slowed to observe whether the missiles had good effect on target or not.​

 

[Saram Kote]

INFILTRATION​

​

Spoiler: Equipment

• Armor:
  • 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'
  • Vambrace Weapons:
    • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
    • PC-05V Plasma Caster
      • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
    • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
      • Electro Darts (4)
      • Explosive Darts (4)
      • Surveillance Tagger Darts (4)
    • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
• Implant(s):
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
• Melee:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • Mono-molecular Edge Beskar Kal Dagger (1)
• Sidearm(s)
  • LRH-5A Verpine Shatter Pistol
• Rifle(s):
  • BR-6B Verpine Shatter Battle Rifle w/ UGL-02 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher and 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Optics System Long Range variant
  • AMR-4M Verpine Shatter Anti-Materiel Rifle w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Optics System Extreme Range variant
• Explosives:
  • Det-Packs (2)
  • Flex-5 Detonite Tape (1 roll)
  • Smoke Grenades (3)
  • Flash-Bang Grenades (3)
  • Concussion Grenade (2)
  • NOVA40 Plasma Grenade (2)

​

​

​

Objective: 2 - Crash The Party​

Location: Sewer entrance.​

Friendly Forces: Vuhyr'yalilyr squad 'Davaab'.​

Tag: Tiria Reinhart | Luna Terrik | Subject 73 Red​

​

If she had to pick one thing that she hated about this shabla planet, it was the sand. The sand had been playing hell with their optical camouflage suites ever since they'd first powered them on. Flickering was the least of their worries. Thankfully, once they were in the relative shelter of the sewer entrance, the system finally reverted to normal. Even then, she was confident that the droid patrol that was patrolling their entrance into the sewer would not have picked them up.​

​

The Manda tactical battlenet overlaid her squad members targeting information onto her own HUD so she knew exactly which targets that they were going after, and they knew which target she'd intended to neutralize herself. The system augmented years of fighting alongside one another. They'd been out of tighter situations than this with allies that couldn't even be counted on to shoot straight. Working with the Dauntless commandos was only going to make the job easier.​

​

Cybernetically enhanced reflexes made the mere scant moments that went by after they had acquired their targets seem almost like a minute or two. A heartbeat later and eight anti-security blades switched on, tuned specifically to DRAM comms frequencies operating, preventing the droid patrol from getting a message out. Almost immediately, rounds were silently discharged from each of the commandos Verpine shatter weapons, putting an end to the droid patrol. The chassis were quickly policed and dragged toward the entrance, where it was unlikely they'd be discovered before it was too late.​

​

Optical camouflage suites flickered back on once the grim deed was done, the now largely unseen by any security systems the anti-security blades didn't subvert. Short ranged comms were a lot harder to detect when encoded correctly, and so at this stage there was little danger in communicating. The deeper they got, the more they risked detection, even with carefully coded short ranged comms, "Davaab squad checking in, we're in." ​

​

 

[Jie Tarell]

Objective: 2 - Crash The Party
Location: Sewer entrance.
BETA Squad-Captain Jie 'Ears' Tarell
TAGS: Tiria Reinhart Luna Terrik Subject 37 Saram Kote

It was the waiting.

That was the answer Jie gave when asked about what the worst part about being a soldier was.

The waiting to be deployed. The waiting for order. The waiting to see the enemy. The waiting for information. The waiting to be hit. The waiting to die. The waiting to get home.

Jie was waiting today for the right answers. He'd hoped that he'd get used to the fractious nature of battle order. He hadn't. He cared about getting men home alive. It wasn't like the bolt heads, the droids marching into conflict. He was glad to be behind them, certainly, but a dead droid was a dead droid. He kept that opinion to himself, the droid combatants a valued part of the Confederacy. However, the Commandos were tough, hardened troops and a blast to the skull was a guaranteed killer to a 'meatbag', something he'd heard less-sympathetic droids name their human counter-parts.

Sigma. Davaab. Alpha. They were making the necessary motions of entering the sewer system. Beta had the unenviable task of holding the mouth and rear of the sewer complex. If it was a good day, it would quiet and pretty dull. If it was a terrible day, they be fending off an entire rear-assault. The clanks had all sorts of surprises in their programming and he didn't trust a one-of-them.

Jie checked in with Colonel Tiria Reinhart .

"Alpha, this is Beta. We are in a rear-guard pattern and are Go to watch your six."

 

[Tiria Reinhart]

Objective: 2 - Crash the Party
Location: Sewer Entrance
Squad: Alpha Squad
Equipment: Project Xiphos Armor | Modular Tri-Blaster | Micro Light Shield | Bayonet | Comlink | Vibroknife

"Davaab, recon. Avoid contact when possible," Tiria sent to Saram Kote . To Subject 73 Red she directed them onward, "Sigma, you're on me. Beta, make sure they don't sweep in from behind," while Jie Tarell might get the unenviable task that was crucial all the same.

"You have the brief," Tiria added before she signaled for Alpha to move out. Presumably Davaab would proceed ahead and scout the fore given they were less likely to get caught by a patrol given their camouflage. Comms would only be to relay crucial mission details -- patrol positions, traps located or disarmed, obstacles, and most importantly where the VIP was once they successfully infiltrated the base.

She was certain Sigma would be helpful in covering a wider area if it became necessary to split up. Meanwhile Beta's value couldn't be understated; they needed a secure route out of the area after securing the prisoner. If that wasn't the front door, then the sewer would do.

Uncovering the layout of the sewers would be useful, and if they could confirm how many -- if any -- hostiles patrolled it the better. The more the understood the underpinning, the more options might open up to them. If nothing else there wouldn't be a surprise cell of pests to deal with.

Tag: Luna Terrik | Subject 73 Red | Saram Kote | Jie Tarell

 

[Eternal Fallen Angel]

“….and lastly, defensive patrols have reported in, sir. There is nothing new to report. All is normal outside the walls.” The B1 droid that had just entered in the command center finished his report and set the datapad to his side, awaiting the dismissal from the super tactical droid. Yet, that dismissal did not come. Instead, the droid watched as the commander of the base paced back and forth, viewers glued to the display in front of it. Other than the quiet conversations between the observation B1s also in the room, silence permeated throughout, and it was doing nothing to keep the B1 from being nervous about what was coming next.

“No.”

The single word sent a shock through the droid, and whether it was an actual electrical shock or just the metaphorical sense could only be determined by a mechanic. Whatever it was in reality, the singular response from the super tactical droid was not something it had been expecting. It had thought that there would be a not so polite dismissal, letting him go and take an oil bath and relax for a bit. Instead, the word had frozen his mechanical feet in place and practically shut down his vocal receptor. Maybe it had been a physical shock after all.

Eventually, the B1 was able to find his voice, uttering out a quick, “What do you mean, sir?” Again, silence was the only response that the droid got, but this time it was filled with the sounds of the most superior droid model flipping a few switches on the view table. The view zoomed out, showing what appeared to be a number of red triangles, flying toward them at a high speed. “Your ground patrols have been..adequate. However, our sensor arrays have picked up enemy forces making their way toward us at a high speed. They will be within firing range within 5…4…3…2..” Before the final number could be spoken, the sounds of explosions rocked throughout the base. If the tactical droid had had more time to prepare, perhaps there would have been more time to entrench the air defenses better.

But they hadn’t, and now the command center exploded into activity while status reports began to roll in. One of the observation B1s turned in his chair, holding a datapad out toward the super tactical droid. “Sir, four of our six anti air batteries have been decimated in the attack. There is no way for us to preform at optimal level against the air enemies anymore.” Clasping the datapad in one hand, scrolling through it with the other, it wasn’t long this time until the superior droid spoke once again.

“It is of no matter. These fleshy beings do not have the firepower to take this base. We will force them to come to us. Commander,” It paused, turning to the B1 that had delivered the first report, who was quite thoroughly shaking by this point. “Pull yourself together. Activate the B2 units. The enemy arrives within the next ten minutes.”

TAGS

Spoiler

OOM-001-JELLYBEAN OOM-002-HONEYCOMB OOM-003-CUPCAKE OOM-004-DONUT OOM-005-ECLAIR OOM-007-GINGERBREAD OOM-008-LOLLIPOP OOM-009-KITKAT OOM-010-JMP OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW OOM-012-NOUGAT OOM-016-ASTRO OOM-018-GEM OOM-314-PIE OOM-069-DOUGHNUT OOM-614-ROSES BX-72967-RAZOR Moe Uilor Anakwor Farlorn, Colonel Tiria Reinhart Allya Vi'Dreya Subject 73 Red Jasmille Kavos @Eva Winborn Startorn Tyran Numeck CT-308 Maverick Ryk Gaelir Tegan Farron Shuklaar Kyrdol Typhan Berrezz Luna Terrik Saram Kote Jie Tarell

 

[Subject 73 Red]

Objective 2 - Crash the Party
Location: Sewer entrance
Tags: Tiria Reinhart Jie Tarell Saram Kote Luna Terrik

Red listened to Colonel Reinhart, then nodded. "Copy that, Colonel." He affirmed, and then he turned to Sigma squad. "You heard the Colonel, get moving SIgma, we're Oscar Mike." He told them. They nodded and followed after him and the rest. Red followed after Reinhart and her squad, with Sigma in tow. They moved after her, watching their flanks, as they moved through the sewer, keeping an eye out for any defenders.

Red looked around the sewer. It seemed fairly empty. It was also very cool in the cave, a stark contrast to the heat outside. Each sound echoed, making them have to be careful where they stepped, or a defender might hear them. Red and Sigma squad followed after Colonel Reinhart and Alpha squad, continuing deeper into the sewer system.

 

[Anakwor Farlorn]

FARLORN'S FORLORN

CHAPTER SIX: BACK TO BASICS
PART TWO​

Location: Desert Hills
Tags: Tiria Reinhart Subject 73 Red Eternal Fallen Angel Jie Tarell Saram Kote Shuklaar Kyrdol OOM-005-ECLAIR OOM-005-ECLAIR Luna Terrik

Dauntless Gunnery-Captain Kruuk checked the timepiece on his wrist for the thirty-seventh time in the past five minutes, making a dramatic flicking motion every time that was beginning to get on the nerves of his gunners. He had a very real reason for all this worry.

This was his first real taste of field operations, even though this was just a training exercise, and he didn’t want it to be a failure. The man in charge of the frontal attack was one Colonel Farlorn which had stood out amongst the other officers at the meeting, not for his oddly formal officers uniform with no apparent armor and most strangely an elegantly Vibrosword hanging in a red-cloth wrapped scabbard, but because of his frighteningly intense eyes, so green that Kruuk had sworn they could have shone in the dark.

He had taken the measly Artillery officer after the conclusion of the conference and told him personally that a great deal of this operation depended on a newly-graduated. There could be much glory that could be claimed this day, a boost that might propel this career forward. But he had also warned of the great consequences of any possible failure, a consequence that would likely be brought on by the commander of the Rangers.

He tugged at his collar, when did their uniforms become so constricting? So hard to breathe? When did they become so ineffective against the bloody heat?

He began walking up and down the line, his boots stamping on an already well-trodden path in the rotten sand. He inspected his guns one last time. His Artillery Platoon had Four M119 “Odin” Super-Heavy Self-propelled Artillery guns arranged down in deep sand-bagged pits behind a small rocky defilade five kilometers away from the enemy fortress, the target. Their long twin 255mm Alusteel-barrels pointing tall into the sky like outreaching metal fingers with massive oversized muzzle-breaks at their tips to counter the massive recoil generated by such mighty weapons.

There was a saying, he recalled from the depths of his memory during his time in the Academy, that Artillery was the true God of the battlefield. Kruuk certainly did not disagree. It had the capability to raze entire cities to dust, grind mountain ranges to dust, and annihilate armies of the field of battle, all without needing to even lay eyes or get close to the target. It decided everything from small-scale squad-level engagements to take a small town to continent-sized offensives that decided the fate of entire worlds.

He looked at his watch again. Thirty seconds.

“Make ready,” Kruuk ordered. “I want shells in their breeches now!”

The gun crews, well-trained and disciplined from years in gunnery school, reacted with swift, effective, practiced movements

The comms-officer, Savin, was standing right next to him. “The Colonel asks if-”

Savin made sure to edit the rather colorful reply that came back as he turned to transmit the message back. Sweat was breaking up now on Kruuk’s forehead. Make or break. Make or kriffing break.

Twenty.

Heavy-duty droids lifted up the heaviest shells next to guns from the ammo dumps.

Ten.

Last-minute calculations were performed on the targeting computers, inputting information from the meteorological sensors and observers hiding the rocky crags. Four twin-barrels elevated in unison. They were all aiming directly for the walls, bastions, sighted weapon emplacements of the fort. The H-3 guns were known well for their extreme surgical accuracy, yet there was always a chance a few shells would still miss, impacting in the ground before the walls or the structure of the fort itself.

Five.

The last breeches were slammed shut, penetrating the din of activity like a knife through flesh. Every single one made him flinch.

Three.

There was a ripple of movement as the gun crews stood to and blue signal flags lifted, signaling they were ready.

Two.

Kruuk took in a deep breath, taking in the pungent odor sweat, piss, oil, and gunpowder. He placed the whistle on his neck to his lips and raised up his arm for all to see.

One.

He blew.

The guns fired on time, Eight 225mm Caliber Guns firing as one. They roared like great demons of myth, screeching concussive screams that shook the very souls of any that stood near them. The crew made sure to keep their mouths open to equalize the pressure on their ears, otherwise, their eardrums would rupture. Some of the more experienced members screamed as loud as they could.

The first few moments were gone, the guns went silent for a moment as breaches were opened, smoking brass casings cleared out and tossed aside by the drilled gunners onto growing piles, before they were re-armed, slammed shut, and fired again.

They were firing a new round every thirty seconds, a decent enough rate for Confederate gunners with shells of this size and without an autoloader. But my men can do better, Kruuk thought, we have to do better. And he was right. By the third round, they were beginning to warm up their muscle memory. The barrage was now constant, not a single moment of silence, their collective roars building up into a majestic crescendo of rolling thunder of noise as the shelling followed each other so quickly they became a single wall of noise.

This was a Storm Bombardment, the tactic in which as much ammunition could be launched downrange with as much fire and fury in the shortest period of time. To bash in the head of the enemy with sheer and ruthless brute force. To shatter their sanity and throw their command into disarray.

To be the prelude to an offensive.

“Shatter their sky!” One of the gunners cheered above the din of the cannons.

“Let them see our barrels glow!” Screamed a loader as he thrust his shell into his Odin, ducking away and covering his ears as the gunner as he ripped back the trigger level.

The Gunner-Captain smiled. The ammo pits were now drained and the last few shells were being launched. Rapidly, the guns were being disengaged into transport configuration, their smoking barrel retracting and descending down. Crew hopped onto their transports or grabbed the hand-rails on the side of the Odins as they reversed out of their gun pits, their great reactors deep within their bodies coming to life with a deep rumble. They were moving right now as their foe was likely reeling from such a strike before they could recover and respond with a counter-barrage.

As he leaped onto the back of a tracked ammo-carrier he checked his data-slate, connected to the diagnostic systems of each gun. He let out a small gasp as he scrolled down, barely comprehending the information being fed to him. He felt pride swell up in his chest.

In just four minutes, their guns had unleashed over fifty 255mm shells. He certainly had not disappointed. He now could see the path of his future career appear before him, in this gods-forsaken desert of sand and dust. He could see medals. He could see glory. He could feel validation in the eyes of his cursed family. He grabbed his macro-binocs off the strap hanging on his neck and started through at the target, eagerly awaiting his glorious results.

All of his efforts in life would amount to this.

Spoiler: TL;DR

In four minutes, fifty 255mm shells have been fired at designated hard-points and the wall to soften them up for a future offensive.

 

[OOM-018-GEM]

D R A M​

Tags: OOM-001-JELLYBEAN | OOM-002-HONEYCOMB | OOM-003-CUPCAKE | OOM-004-DONUT | OOM-007-GINGERBREAD | OOM-008-LOLLIPOP | OOM-009-KITKAT | OOM-011-MARSHMALLOW | OOM-012-NOUGAT | OOM-016-ASTRO | 00M-042-OREO |
OOM-069-DOUGHNUT | OOM-614-ROSES | OOM-010-JMP | BX-72967-RAZOR | Moe Uilor | OOM-314-PIE

Tag:

"001100 010010 011110 100001 101101 110011"

A censer swayed back and forth slowly as a droid in a stole quietly recited an ancient machine prayer over the E-5 Blaster Rifles lain out on the table before which it stood. Often it did its best to ignore the commotion caused by its sisters and brothers in arms, though there were times it was difficult to see to their religious needs when many didn't seem to believe in the Great Tinkerer that gave all B1s life and allowed their spirits to so easily inhabit a new unit that kept them all looking shiny and clean - save for units such as GEM whom often found themselves inhabiting older units for the sheer fact that they had not had the pleasure or tragedy of having their chassis blasted.

"001100 010010 011110 100001 101101 110011"

GEM repeated the prayer over the weapons as it swayed the censer back and forth, the smoke wafting from the open holes at the top as it continued its blessed work of blessing the weapons that the B1s would carry into battle. Turning towards the arrayed units, it stepped forward, swaying the censer in front of them as it brought one hand up, carefully guiding it over their chassis.

"May the Great Tinkerer provide for you. May your accuracy be increased ten-fold, may your servos be sand free, and may you not need a new chassis. Now go forth B1s and blast the meatbags in this glorious combat."