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Omnicide on a massive scale has been committed by the forces of the Bryn'adul. Blood wells at their feet in great rivers and lakes, but the one-hundred billion slaughtered have not yet whet the appetite of one of the greatest threats to the galaxy. Lashing out at whatever came within their reach, they managed to afflict a terrible wound upon both the populace of the galaxy and upon the Force itself with their carnage - they might have continued unhindered forever were it not for the efforts of a surprise attack launched by the Silver Jedi Concord on the world of Nar Kreeta which stifled the onslaught.
Driven away for unknown reasons, the Bryn'adul have been left without their Chieftain, and the Empire has strained to find its feet once again under the guardianship of the Ish'makra Council. A growing tension has been found throughout the Empire... a desire to once again strike against the foe that bloodied their nose on Nar Kreeta. Growing propaganda engines under the command of the Ish'makra have highlighted the death of myriads who were unsuspecting victims of the surprise attack, of the slain clone-vat spawn who had not yet attained sapience, and of the tragic loss of military resources that could have gone on to continue the assault.
The Draelvasier and their Allied Races have each been affected heavily by this propaganda - petitions have arisen throughout the worlds of countless Warlords, and each has pledged their forces to a single ultimate goal:
There was no hiding the approach of the massive warships as they soared across the endless void, and there was little in the way of stealth required for their assault. Fervent for the blood of the Concord and her allies, and hopeful that their act of devastation might somehow summon their progenitor Chieftain from his self-imposed exile, the Draelvasier and their Allies have amassed a tremendous flotilla which has been launched at a number of worlds along the Silver Jedi Concord border. Of prime importance is the fleet dispatched to the planetoid of Circumtore: a vast metropolitan civilization, it has come under direct assault with the goal of scorching it into Oblivion.
Already, one of the lunar bodies orbiting Circumtore has been seized by the advancing Bryn'adul forces, and upon this moon, they intend to construct a tremendous cannon that will help to secure their control over the area. Elsewhere, dropships and gunboats have been hurtled toward Tilrinn in the hopes of annihilating any defenses it possesses, and especially of obliterating the esteemed Centre of Economic Affairs which provides support for all manner of industrial and commercial matters throughout the sector.
All the while, the heavens above Circumtore are alight with the flame of conflict as terrible weapons of war prepare to tear chunks off of each other.
One-hundred billion are dead, and now the populace of Circumtore risks being added to the census.
The SJC has already finished evacuating the upper levels of the city of Tilrinn. Nevertheless, a large population remains within their under levels. We will assault the Centre of Economic Affairs in Tilrinn, cripple nearby worlds by its destruction, and then drop the entire structure straight into the lower levels - let the vermin feel what it's like to be crushed to death just as they did to us on Nar Kreeta.
A great weapon is being constructed on the moon of Circumtore, but it will require time to be assembled. Fleetmasters and others will need to engage in ship-to-ship naval combat with the enemy SJC forces in order to guarantee that they cannot reach the moon. Send the burning wreckage of their warships into the Netherworld.
Establishing dominance over this sector of space will prove to be difficult unless we can prepare for more ships to arrive. We have brought all of the equipment and pieces necessary to construct a massive and stationary version of the Crusader Ballista used on our vessels. It will take time to assemble - protect it while it is under construction… when it is done, we will use it to wipe the enemy fleet from existence, and our vengeance will be made manifest.
"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”
The day of reckoning had arrived. The grind of war led them to today and they were prepared. The upper levels of the city of Tilrinn were already free from the hustle and bustle of civilian life and were instead filled with the sound of the eerie emergency siren which had called for their evacuation and now echoed about the empty streets where Concordian forces were beginning to take hold and stand their ground.
It was a different story below as the undercity was still populated with non-military personnel comprised of civilians, smugglers, thieves and a whole manner of criminals that the Concord had neglected to help when their efforts had focused on the war. These people were urged to evacuate along with the rest of the population but through their own choice some opted to stay out of both their desire to protect their own planet and their distaste for the Concord which left them less than trusting of the Jedi to successfully defend the planet.
There was noticeable discord between the locals and their Jedi benefactors but it was only through unity that the war would be won. Such differences needed to be put aside for the greater good and today would prove to be a test of that. If the locals refused to leave then the least the Jedi could do was rally them to fight together. The events today would make or break their relationship with the people of Circumtore.
Military personnel were stationed throughout all levels of the city, down to the lowest, in preparation of Bryn'adul forces making landfall. The centre of economic affairs, vital to the economy of not just Circumtore but neighbouring planets, was fortified with shields and troops both within and outside. The buildings could not be allowed to fall otherwise the Concord could be dealing with an economic crisis on its Southern front.
Elsewhere, Concordian forces in orbit were engaging in naval combat to protect their allies who had made landfall. Disturbing reports of a weapon of mass-destruction being constructed on a nearby moon gave the Concord reason for concern and in response they had sent elite teams to prevent the activation of the weapon from the ground. Meanwhile on Circumtore itself, there was little they could do to defend themselves against such a devastating weapon so their placed their faith in their allies in orbit.
Several channels had been created to open communications between those on on Circumtore, those on the nearby moon and those in orbit. Communication was a lifeline not to be underestimated.
It was only through cooperation, faith and the Force that they stood any chance at holding their ground.
The upper levels of the city of Tilrinn have been evacuated but many of those in the undercity are refusing to leave and are instead opting to defend their own planet. The lower class have tense relations with the Concord and underground criminals due to the ongoing neglect from the Jedi whose attention had turned to the war, meaning poverty and crime are still prevalent.
Help the rag-tag group of mercenaries, smugglers, criminals and local civilians to see past their grievances and rally them to fight against their invaders and protect the city at all costs.
Our fleet has engaged the Bryn’adul forces in the Circumtore System. It is believed that the Bryn’adul are preparing a weapon of mass destruction on a nearby moon, with Circumtore itself as the target. Our forces are held at bay by the Bryn’adul fleet protecting their weapon.
Engage and break through the Bryn’adul naval forces centered around the moon. Your firepower will be needed to destroy their weapon and thwart their plan.
While the fleet will try to break through any naval defences the enemy have put in place to protect the cannon and gain control of the system, smaller and more versatile crafts have been dispatched to make landfall and disrupt the construction and activation, before it can be fired on Circumtore.
Small, elite teams storm the construction site and disrupt the progress of setting up the cannon. That weapon can not be allowed to activate.
It would have been an empty gesture to send anyone other than a member of the Jedi Council to meet with the self-proclaimed head of the uprising that had been gaining traction in the underworld of Circumtore. Kiara opted to meet the group along with some volunteers from her own side to help the two groups come to an agreement that was mutually beneficial.
The meeting would not be without awkwardness as the civilian-led rebellion and the Jedi they wished to overthrow would be forced to work together or lose more lives through their lack of unification but ultimately all wanted to see Circumtore standing at the end of the battle and that alone should be enough to forge a temporary alliance, if not begin the blossoming of a better relationship with the people of Circumtore.
If they won the battle, they could win over the people. If they lost then the trust of Circumtore's underclass could be broken.
There was no time for formalities. They were about to be on the frontline of war. They met in the street, outside a train station that had been barricaded up. Even though the Concord had urged all non-military personnel to evacuate upon their warning of the Bryn'adul's arrival, she could respect the determination and dedication of those who wanted to fight for what was theirs. It was the Concord's duty to protect her people but not all were in need of protection. The fierceness of Circumtore was commendable, even if there had been a cell actively making plans at driving the Concord from the system.
As the two groups neared, Kiara held a hand out to Ronin, the leader of the rebels. A gesture that was not well received as he didn't shake her hand but instead cleared his throat and spoke to the group so Kiara slowly pulled her hand back to her side "We can defend ourselves down here." He told them.
"You haven't seen the destruction of the Bryn'adul. They can decimate planets, civilisations-" She began.
"We are not helpless. You look at us like we're weak. Like we're people who need saving by your mighty government. We were doing just fine without you until you enforced your laws and customs on our planet."
"Yes, but-" She let out an exasperated sigh. "We can talk about the nuances of Circumtore's relationship with the Concord once this is over but if we lose this battle then there will be no planet to contest."
Ronin's brow furrowed in thought for a moment before he gave a curt nod. "Enemy of my enemy. Nothing more." He declared.
"I hope that can change one day." Kiara replied, wistfully. It was a poignant reminder of how they had failed the people of Circumtore. They owed them more than protection.
"Don't push it, Jedi." He gestured for the group behind him to follow him as he walked past the Jedi, knocking shoulders with one of the Knights in the group as he passed.
The Grandmaster sighed. "May the Force be with us."
Circumtore was not a “planet” that Caltin had thought about being on in a while. In fact, the last time he was here, he, Desbre Gensan
, and Milya Vondar
were here as part of a task force taking on a crazed Hutt’s militia. They were liberating the people from the almost tyrannical control of the gangster. The hope was that the people would not necessarily form a utopia, but at least be able to come to terms with their newfound freedom and create their own future.
That’s not necessarily how it worked out as societies splintered and crime rose, segregation rose, and an overall sense of hopelessness permeated the air. This also bled into resentment of the Silver Concord. Much of the populace felt abandoned by their “saviors” and left to suffer to their own untrained devices. The rest felt little more than the opportunity to prey on those who were indeed suffering. While the result was unintentional, what the Silvers had done by removing the despot, was create a “vacuum.” What could they do though? The Silver Jedi Concord are not “World Builders”, they would be no different than the despot that they removed, it was a no-win situation regardless of what they had done.
Fast forward to today.
Fast Forward to the initial elements of the Bryn'adul invasion.
The Massive Jedi Master was standing in the middle of, well, they were all criminals laced in with former Hutt Mercenaries. He was not the only one here, one of the diplomats, Master Buquaite, was trying to talk to and rally them together. Mostly the group was laughing at him while arguing amongst themselves, each side blaming another, and another. One thing that the massive Jedi Master paid attention to was their loyalty to their home. If he was a con-man or anything of the sort he would play this angle to his own end, but it was something that he would point out to their own.
Buquaite was trying his best, but he was not in a position to really change their hearts and minds. He was no slouch, mind you but they were just not going to listen to what he had to say. Caltin on the other hand stepped in where he normally preferred not to.
“Please, if you will just give me a chance we can work something out.” Buquaite almost begged them to respond peacefully.
“Look, Jedi. I know I speak for a lot of us when I say that we can work with you, but we will not work with these criminals!” Blurted one of the “normal” citizens.
“Hey! We’re citizens too!”
“I make a legitimate living!” Shouted one of the mercenaries, bringing aggressive agreement from those around her.
“You’re soldiers for hire! You’ll do anything!”
Yelling out like this was something that Caltin did not like to do. It was gratuitous and frankly annoying. The fact that these citizens were just fighting each other over what they could see coming their way from orbit, well it was almost infuriating. So if he had to step in and act all “grumpy” as his reputation preceded him with, then so be it. The big guy was not going to see the Bryn’adul make any more advances, especially after what they had done to Master Ayers and Padawan Shan among the others.
Still going to have to ask her about her past one day.
So all of you are going to stand here and tell me that you would rather fight each other…
Pointing around to each of them who seemed segregated into their groups.
Pointing at the invading forces.
“Typical Jedi… show up when it makes you look good and disappear when you’re needed!” One of the “criminals” yelled out.
So you’re saying that you want Jedi here all the time? You want to be ruled, and not allowed to create your own life and culture? You’re saying in a sense that you want Martial Law? Well, I’m sorry, but we do not work that way. If you cannot let yourselves live your own life and create your success, that’s on you.
Pointing at the Bryn again he shouted
They’re not going to cooperate! They’re not going to give you a chance! They’re not going to be compassionate! They’re going to come here and wipe you out if you let them.
Putting his hand down and meeting eyes with each of them, he asked simply…
The question is… Are you going to let them?
“Oh, get off your high horse, Jedi!” Yelled out one of the mercenaries. “We’ve seen the news! We’ve seen how helpless you guys and girls are! The best thing to do is get off this rock, as much as I don’t want to! Get to the other side of the galaxy and hope they don’t make it there before we die!” This brought agreement from some of the others. Caltin however turned to see several Bryn’adul “troop” landers, if these idiots weren’t going to listen to experience, they were going to view it. Caltin actually took a few steps and met the eye contact of the one who brought up his alleged misgivings.
“You can go home after this, you don’t lose anything. If you ever have.”
Do you think that I’ve never lost anything? You think that I don’t know what it's like to lose what or who I care about? To feel so desperately that you're in the right, yet to fail? I’ve lost. It's frightening, turns the legs to mush. It wrecks your mind, to see all you care about destroyed right in front of you. I ask you though, to what end? Dread it. Run from it. Fate catches up with you all the same. And now, it's here. Or should I say...I AM.
His connection to the Force may have changed dramatically since his trip to the “Wellspring of Life”(*Look it up in the bio-page for the lazy to borrow a line from Tefka
) but he was still a master of it. A glance and a reach and suddenly one of the transports slowed to a violent stop in mid-air, this was not by pilot control as it shuddered and shook as it rotated portside and slowly began to float faster and faster into an incoming transport. The destruction and falling debris of the two Bryn ships lit up the sky, as a hard “swipe” by the big guy sent the remaining hulks into a flight of three Bryn “Thumpers”. The fireworks were spectacular from that one.
Those gathered around him, well most of them stood, mouths agape. Sure, there were always the tall tales of the Jedi, the Sith, and what they could do with the Force, but, no matter how many there are in the galaxy it is not every day you get to see something like this happen before your very eyes. Those gathered had seen what they needed to see in order to act. The decision for the majority was made the moment that the lander began to shudder and rotate in mid-air. The ones who were looking to get away seemed a little confused at the moment which is just what Caltin wanted.
I am not amongst you for some photo op, some publicity stunt, this not my idea recreation or sport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all; to lay down, for all of you if necessary, for your freedom, for my honor, and my blood.
You will, by the dignity of your conduct, afford occasion for posterity to say, when speaking of the glorious example you have exhibited to mankind, ‘Had this day been wanting, the galaxy had never seen the last stage of perfection to which each of you is capable of attaining.
Shall we allow them to violate with impunity this territory or any territory for that matter? Will you permit the army to escape which has carried terror into your families? I don’t care what you tell me, your eyes say different, and I don’t think you will. March, then mee them. Tear from their brows the laurels they have won. Teach the galaxy that a malediction attends to those that violate the territory of your people. The result of our efforts will be unclouded glory and maybe a feeling of durable peace.
His little speech seemed to garner some inspiration as more and more gripped their weapons, ready for a fight. “We’ll hold this planet! They’re not getting past us!”
I don’t want to get any messages saying, ‘I am holding my position.’ We are not holding a damn thing. Let the Bryn do that. We’re going to advance constantly, not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy’s claws. We are going to twist those claws and kick the Mustafar out of them all of the time. They’re not who they were, and it took what we’ve once lost to learn that our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. They’re used to pushing. You’re going to show them you can push back...
Then he turned back and looked at two landers reaching the surface and cracked his neck.
... or you can go hide somewhere. Your choice.
Almost on cue, a child had fallen right in the path of one of those Bryn’adul landing ships, her leg was injured and she could not get up. Her father was trying his hardest to get to her, but he was caught in a crowd. At this point, everything that the fools around him were arguing was moot, if they wanted to fight, great, if they wanted to run and hide, fine, he had work to do. No. No, Caltin had a point to make and these idiots needed to hear it. Giving the little girl to her father, he looked around at anyone and everyone in earshot.
The last time that I was on this planet, I noticed that the general will of the people and the daily life was of excess. You’re about to lose that to the Bryn’adul and you have two choices. You can either stand up for yourselves and push back, or you can leave. No one will shame you if you evacuate, there are other salacious planets in the galaxy. You know what though? What about when the Bryn attack those planets? Are you going to run again? What about when the Bryn gets there? When does it end?
“Those are the Bryn’adul! You can barely hold them back! What can we do?” Yelled out one citizen, clearly afraid of what they were seeing.
“What you are asking of us is impossible! It's not our fault they're here! Why do we have to pay the price?” Yelled out a mercenary.
Shaking his head and letting out a frustrated sigh, Caltin looked around. Time was running out, the Bryn were landing, he had to say something.
You know, there will always be some “all-powerful evil” in the galaxy, no matter when it is. I remember an Empire that encompassed over ninety-five percent of the galaxy, and the other five they influenced. They had an army larger than most systems, they had a navy that in numbers was larger than some planets and they had a world-killing weapon. There was no chance to stop them, but you know what? People massed together, people tired of being pushed down, they pushed back. They ignored the odds because the cause was just.
Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men and women who find it easier to live in a galaxy they've been given than to explore the power that they already have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It is nothing more than an opinion. Impossible t is not a declaration. It is nothing more than a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing. In fact, it's kind of fun to do the "impossible".
Look. Fine, it’s your fault they’re here. It’s our fault they’re here. Who cares right now, as none of that matters, they’re here bottom line. Are any of you up for this? Are you sure? I need to know, because… there is a fleet overhead ready to trounce us. There is a fleet overhead, we’re about to fight off walking seafood, and I have a glove that I have yet to figure out. In reality, none of this should make sense, it’s almost like some idiot in the future is sitting on a recliner typing on a laptop trying to tick me off. None of this makes sense, but I’m about to engage these monsters because it’s my job. It’s my job, okay? The problem is, I can’t do my job and babysit.
It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past, or where you’ve been. If you follow me into the fight, you fight to kill. If you leave and evacuate, you’re good. We’ll hold them as long as we can, but if you want to protect all you hold dear, and you follow me to fight… well you might as well consider yourself a “Silver” at this point.
It was child's play for the four Skirata warriors to insinuate themselves into the ragtag band of volunteers the Jedi had organized to defend Circumtore's undercity. Din's contempt for the Jedi waned a little as he saw them using the civilians and volunteers as useful cannon fodder to hold back the Brynadul assault. He appreciated the practical ruthlessness of such an approach, even as he knew the shabla Jedi would deny any such intention. Prideful, and oh so holier than thou, that was his opinion of Jedi. Though as a Mandalorian, Din was pleasantly surprised to see any Jedi showing such good practical sense, that didn't mean he wasn't here to hunt them.
All three Skirata commandos had separated from the leader upon arrival, and all three of them had strict instructions not to interfere with Din's hunt, he wanted to take a Jedi down, alone. They were his eyes and his ears, and scattered among the volunteers, they had the perfect cover. All three would remain concealed within the defense forces unless Din said otherwise. Captain's perogative, and it was his hunt. They spoke in basic code, though the comm was encrypted burst, it didn't pay to underestimate the Jedi. Nerfs were locals, vornskrs were low ranking Jedi, rancors were priority targets, senior Jedi, Masters and the best of the Knights. A triple click on his comm let his squadmates know he wanted a sitrep.
Leader, this is three. Plenty of vornskrs among the nerfs. That one was watching the barricades, and the Jedi among the volunteers. Leader, this is two. No rancors in sight. The best rifle shot of the three, this one had sequestered himself in a barricaded ventilation duct, which gave him a great view of a wide area from a high, covered perch. Leader, this is four. As previous, no rancors yet.
The fourth was in among the locals, his Mandalorian armor outwardly disguised to make him look like an aruetii mercenary. All four of them were in their beskar'gam, with cosmetic changes, except for Din. He wasn't going to disguise himself on a hunt like this; he wanted the Jedi to know what it was that was hunting them. A real Mando'ad warrior, a soldier, a child of Manda'yaim, with nothing held back from the contest, taking on the most dangerous of game; a Jedi Knight or Jedi Master, in mortal combat. The ultimate test of skill, and of will to win.
The Kraemonen bristled against the skin of the Warlord as he gazed out into the black abyss at the gathering forces of the flotilla, maneuvering into their assorted positions as they prepared for the fierce battle ahead of them. Light skirmishing had already resulted in the occasional shot fired into the distance, but neither side had truly engaged in carnal battle yet. It took time for the admirals on the side of the Concord to organize their vessels, just as it took time for the Shipmasters to compel their warships into position.
"You are anxious, Warlord?" The worm-mind transmitted into his head, the thoughts rattling around within his skull until he acknowledged them with a simple nod. It was a physical notion, but the Kraemonen understood regardless.
"I have not commanded a fleet before. Such matters were always left to the service of the Fleetmasters." He answered, flicking a finger briefly in the direction of a battle-ready Vaydralen officer who was going through a series of checks. The spin of stones, the familiar holographic touch of archaic and alien devices as they were activated was a reminder of the complexity involved in the function of a starship.
"Do not fear, Warlord. You are not alone. We will keep contact with the Hiveminds to keep you appraised of important technical details in case the Shipmasters fall short." The worm bristled, its legs contorting as the thought was transmitted.
It was true. The Kraemonen had installed themselves in many of the more complex vehicles and starships of the Bryn'adul - certainly not all of them, but the presence of the Hiveminds was exceptionally useful. It meant that failures in the function of the vessel on the part of the crew could at least temporarily be diverted. An incompetent Shipmaster who failed to transmit vital data could be superseded in that function by the touch of the worms... they were excellent for keeping track of the intake of sensory information, though the operation of many features of the warships were still left to Vaydralen engineers, Ungulloi Artificers, and Draelvasier Stonesingers
Of course, this varied composition wasn't true for every ship. The Ravagers had been outfitted with exclusively Draelvasier crew... that was important, because each of them had also simultaneously been assigned a series of Decapi Spiderlings. Those could potentially prove themselves useful if a boarding operation was launched against the smaller frigates. It was easy to assume that the Jedi might commit to such a daring raid... they would quickly find themselves turned into meals by the predatory anti-boarding beasts though.
"You are planning for eventualities that may not occur. Is this wise?" The Worm chided and Osam bristled ever-so-slightly at its intrusion into his daydreams. It was correct, but he still didn't appreciate being counseled.
"Fine." He said bluntly, turning to one of the Stonesingers and snapping his fingers so that they would amplify the broadcast of his mind-stone. "I am Warlord Osam, hear my command! The Boundless Honor shall hold center-place of the fleet. On its flanks will be the Clan's Pride and the Heroism of Tathra. I want the Carrier behind all of them - have the fighter-craft ready to stir at a moment's notice. We'll need them soon."
"The Ravagers will be set two on each side of the fleet with a Kraemonen Craft behind each to provide it additional shielding. The Ravager will protect the Craft with its body, and the Craft will protect the Ravager with its shielding. Be impenetrable! Be resolute!"
"Weapons should be warmed and prepared - I want the crew armed with weapons on each vessel in case of attack. Stoke the Quilxyn into shielding.
We will make our Father proud... wreak carnage, brothers."
FIGHTER COMPLIMENT: 103rd Tactical Starfighter Wing "Angel of Death Squadron"
CALLSIGNS: Commodore Angellus "Maverick" is and will always be "Angel 1", Captain Rojuh Pouil "Starlight" is "Angel 2" Commander Scoht Pouil "Meteor" is "Angel 3". Each Squadron leader makes up the remaining "Angel" callsigns, their individual squadrons and make-ups are named below.
In a snap of light the carriers “Ethereal” and “Silver City” dropped out of hyperspace, normally there would be more processes and protocols but this was not a normal situation. Not only were the Bryn’adul attacking the system, but unlike previous Bryn attacks, there was a fully involved fleet attacking. The numbers were enormous, and to many, frightening, but too much of the crew of the two carriers, mostly thanks to the attitude and leadership of the Commodore, were obstacles. They were targets and nothing more. No matter how enormous the odds, the fleet was not going to let up in the slightest. Sev Tok, Nar Kreeta, those battles proved that the Bryn is not unbeatable, now it was a matter of continuing the fight.
” Set us up and deploy turrets.”
There were more ships dropping out of hyperspace, ships from the Concord, the Galactic Alliance, the Confederacy, the Ashlan Crusade, yes, but did they know what they were getting into. There was already weapons fire incoming from the invaders, the turrets immediately went to work targeting and not only returning fire but acting as “point-defense” when and where possible. The big question one might ask as Bryn fighters were engaging and begin to break through the turret lines was “Where are the starfighters?”
Funny you should ask.
One squadron after another dropped out of hyperspace and immediately “went to work”. By doing so, each squadron already had its own orders coming from the Pouilll brothers. The high-speed interceptors were doing their job and drawing however many enemy targets that they can away from their intended targets. The multi-purpose fighters were engaging the enemy starfighters that were distracted by the Jackals. This was a concerted fire-for-effect effort that was meant to throw chaos into the soup, in a manner of speaking. Each flight had their assignments and had their targets, but if they could keep the Bryn’adul starships from staying on their’s that was the key to their success.
” Set up perimeter guns in alternating angle and fire patterns. I don’t care if they can fire from a distance, but I don’t want any of these moof-milers to be able to get through without paying for it!.”
“Conn-Comms… Distress call coming in...”
” Contact “The Ethereal”, alert all commands.”
The distress call over Tol Amn was another issue and Angellus immediately ordered “The Ethereal” to respond, as with Voodoo Wing. The turrets would stay in place, but everyone else would jump, Tantor was a good leader and could handle himself. The smaller corvettes that were dropping in would be of assistance anyway. Normally Angellus would not take the bait that this is and split his forces, but there was a veritable consortium banded together.
“The Bombers are running ‘Cold nose’ right now.”
” Send the Jackals in to mow the lawn and whitewash the fences.”
The long-range starfighters were headed straight for the capital ships at attack speed and going after the surface guns, at least the ones that they could get as they were not stopping. The heavies were attacking and painting the shield generators to assist the targeting computers on the bombers, the bombers, were going after the ships themselves. Coordination and tactical planning ruled the day, these pilots were sticking to their scripts and playing them down to the letter. There were no “heroes”, everyone went in with the intention of coming out alive, but they were also working on a different tactic as well.
The Marines were beginning to deploy.
" All turrets increase the sweeping fire. Take the focus off the Marines"
All of the automated Sky-cranes, all of the transports, began to methodically move down to the planet. Any attempted attacks on them by Bryn Forces were immediately meant by rerouting flights of fighters, no matter the class. The attention was also being diverted from another vessel that just dropped out of hyperspace. The Special Forces group "Omega Squad"'s ship "The Annunaki".
Ethereal jumped to defend Tol Amn (Not in the fight, just in the opening post)
Silver City setting up a defensive emplacement
Fighters engaging to not only attack Bryn ships but take the focus off of other elements.
Five thousand Marines deploying down to Circumtore
Aberrant had come forward to execute the will of the Bryn. She had found a small band of misfit fighters outside the city that had been courageous enough to challenge the oncoming horde that was death and pain incarnate. The Bryn would wipe away all that plagued the planets they attained through their conquest.
It was merely a matter of sweeping the vermin out of their hiding places.
The squad of Draelvasir that had followed her were the lowest caste. Suicidal in their initial and unthinking strike against an unknown force, whittling down numbers to allow Aberrant to do her own work to ensure at the very least her own survival.
There were solid slugthrowers, laser weapons, even something that had cast an amber colored bolt through the dinghy dark of the buildings around them. There had been screams, calls for help that were quickly silenced. Her presence had cut through the noise.
Had silenced the voices that cried out in vain for the sake of humanity.
The rag tag group had fought valiantly, though purely in vain against an enemy that consumed everything in their path. Aberrant had devoured those Draelvasir that had fallen around her once she had finished cleaning up the last of the humans that had remained without assistance.
The last bits of resistance had tried to hold out inside a decrepit building. The roof partially caved in as they had watched the doorway for her form. Covered in a cloak, adorned in the remnants of her reconnaissance armor. Something that did not escape the respective mind of its irony.
It felt familiar, what she was seeing. The desperate cling to some hope of salvation in the face of complete destruction. That the enemy might show some inkling of mercy against the odds. That some little glimmer of a silver lining might come from the monsters that bumped in the night.
But that hope was quickly diminished.
Her form crashed through the ceiling, crushing the remnants beneath her in a dusty storm of duracrete and reinforcing rods. Their bodies lay beneath her feet in a smattering of defeat and pain as she looked over herself finally.
Holes permeated parts of her. The slugs of weapons slowly pushed out of her body as the pain from it reminded her that she was still in fact alive and capable of more. The skin and tissue that began to grow over those wounds was still fresh and tender, requiring her to sleep to focus on it’s regrowth.
They had indeed put up a good fight. Enough that she placed the bodies in a respective position upon final inspection of her handiwork. She still refrained from anything human. Something that made even her monstrous appetite suddenly and sharply stunt itself. Some part of her cringed at even the thought of the action, though the other Bryn were fair game.
Stretching out, she pulled her cloak tight, eyes heavy from her body's continued effort of burning energy to repair itself. Her form was pressed against the wall, leaning her head to cushion herself as she fell into a healing slumber as she had done once before to awaken to this form.
A comm-radio along the far wall glowed a dull orange, the final cries for help the last things to play from the position that Aberrant now held in silence.
The communication radio would still provide a position detail as it continued it’s silent broadcast. Near it, a life sign, similar in scope to a humans though it seemed to fade as Abberant’s body slowed the unnecessary functions to focus on healing.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Sith Empire might have finally be brought low- but the work was hardly done. The Bryn'adul still rampaged through the stars nigh unfettered and now- the Silver Jedi were serving as the rocks along the waves again, stemming the crimson tide that was- the Bryn'adul. Kolson didn't like Jedi, he didn't trust Jedi. Luckily, he didn't have to. Not here, not now.
The main priority was less so, helping the Concord than it was killing and destroying the warfighting capability of the Bryn'adul. If that meant Antarian Rangers and Jedi were put down in the process? Meant all the better for New Imperial influence in the systems south of the Iron Sun. Was good for business, to say the least.
But today, they had an objective and luckily for Kolson- he was able to continue riding the victory lap that came with being a veteran of the now concluded Third Imperial Civil War by playing the part of Overlord for the next generation of up and coming operatives. For now. He didn't want too much time away from the 'alpha' role, on the field.
He packed away the last cigarette with a long draw before ashing it out on the table in front of him, eyes scrolling over strewn datapads and map projections on the table in front of him before soon enough he stood, jotting his fingers into the keypad embedded into the metal table for activating the holocomm.
<"Final fifteen before op time so I'll give you all a quick rundown of what your mission is."> The Commander said before throwing a projection of the moon of Circumtore through the holocomm before it zoomed into the particular operation area.
<"Here- the Bryn'adul are establishing a ground based weapon which they will attempt to use to destroy the Silver Jedi naval forces. Your task is to capture or destroy that weapon in that level of priority. You will be given the means to destroy or render inert this weapon but our main priority is to keep it intact if at all possible. The more we can understand of how their weapons systems work, the more damage we'll be able to do in future engagements...and the less folded flags we'll have to deliver."> Kolson iterated.
<"You'll have whatever air and space support we can offer from here at your disposal and a small contingent of air assault stormtroopers to act as enablers for your task. Regardless...get it done. The Empire is counting on it."> He said before snapping the comm closed. It was up to them now. But if he needed to- he'd get his hands dirty.
To Cato, Circumtore didn’t feel all too different from Nar Shaddaa. Massive cityscapes plagued by crime and class divide that defined the way of life for every sentient that called them home. After spending months at work on the latter, Circumtore wasn’t so much a breath of fresh air as it was more of the same.
Except, that is, for the impending threat of total destruction, courtesy of everyone’s least favorite omnicidal warlords. As much as Cato loved to waste his time cleaning the streets of Narsh (progressively equivalent to hitting one’s head against a wall over and over again), the call of duty pulled him back to the front lines once more.
With one more outskirt patrol done, the Knight slumped against the nearest wall for a breather. There had been no sign of Bryn encroachment on his end as of yet, but it was only a matter of time before fighting would begin in force. And so, Cato waited, accompanied only by cassandraic tranquility.
The calm before the storm.
He took a much-needed swig of water, and wiped the excess stream from the edge of his mouth, when a voice from behind startled the Knight onto his feet.
“What’re you doing?”
Cato spun around to see a young boy staring him down, large rifle in hand. Couldn’t be more than 14 or 15. His ragged clothes and thin frame did little to make him any more imposing.
“Uhh, my job? What are you doing? You should be off-world by now.” He reached out to the boy, who recoiled in response.
“No. I’m staying.”
Not that he had much of a choice to take it back now. Behind the boy's eyes, uncertainty betrayed his steadfast demeanor. All the same, he had remained. Like many who stayed, this was all he had. It was his home, and he refused to give it up without a fight. Cato sighed, rubbing his nape across the ink that marked his past. He recognized the look on the boy’s face; He once carried it, too. For the first time, Cato considered himself lucky that crime and poverty was all he had to survive in youth. This boy faced all that and more now.
Cato’s comm unit crackled to life with sounds of struggle, and worse. Nothing could be deciphered from the noise as it was quickly cut off, now relaying little more than static. That, and a location ping that marked the source. Break time was over.
“Hey, join back up with the crowd back in town. Being this far out isn’t safe. Find me after this is all over and I’ll give ya an autograph.”
“I don’t want it. I don’t even know who you are.”
“One day someone’ll take me up on that.” Cato smirked to himself before waving the kid back again, “Seriously though, find somewhere to hole up. I’ve gotta go earn my paycheck.”
He dusted back the edge of his coat, revealing the glint of his lightsaber hilt underneath, and began the trek towards the coordinates left to him.
There were no transports or dropships for Omega Squad. They were in their own and barreling in hard. The Naval battle was fierce and not something that they were expecting. After all, they were clandestine and while they could battle on the front lines, their specialty was “behind enemy lines.” There was a plan in place though, there always was.
Metotron was commanding ” The Annunaki” fast and furiously into “the soup”. The ship was highly maneuverable and able to dodge and outmaneuver Bryn’adul weapons fire and starfighters for the most part. The problem is that there was absolutely no way that this was going to last. There was a rallying point though that they needed to reach and once they did, Jophiel released the payload. That “payload” was a Pegasus transport dropping out of the launch bay and entering the fray itself.
[” Eden” to “Abel”, good hunting.]
[“Abel” to “Eden”, we’ll take it from here.]
Chamuel, ” The Annunaki”’s pilot immediately jumped to lightspeed and got the ship out of there. This was not any kind of tactical retreat, the vessel completed its mission(at least to this point) and now it was time to allow the others to complete theirs.
The Pegasus had a simple role, get to the ground and drop off their own payload. The problem is that the defenses were horrible, every defensive and even offensive system was in operation and it was proving to be less than enough. The transport was hit hard on the port side. The Pegasus managed to take out a couple of structures, but the transport was going down.
The transport hit portside wing first into the ground and hard to the floor as it slid hard across the construction site taking out some security and eventually coming to a stop. The ship just sat there, a burning mass of metal before becoming engulfed in flames and eventually an explosive Baradium charge incinerating everything in the blast radius.
Regardless of the damage that was set off, this was not the last of Omega Squad. The crashed ” Pegasus” was a distraction for another to drop off a RONTO and exit the area two klicks out. The team was full, Gold, Blue, Red, and Green Teams, as well as Pegasus pilots Ariel and Uriel, all geared up. Each member in the Mk III armor with full weapon compliments. They were not loaded down like on Sev Tok, but this was going to be a fight as well, a good thing the new tech was set up for this.
They needed stealth and a large team was generally not the way to go, but this was a situation that called for it. There was a superweapon that had to be destroyed, and regardless of who was here and how it was going to go down, they had to get it done.
Hold onto yer butts!
A hard slide and the ground transport were behind what looked to be a boulder of some sort, it does not matter at this point as they were behind cover. Everyone was coming, save the RONTO crew as they would stay on the outskirts for heavy weapons cover (if necessary) and “Overwatch”. Slowly the operators exited and made their way to the construction site. The movement was slow and controlled, unlink previous ops, they knew exactly what they were getting into. The Omegas still needed to learn the lay of the land, but at least now, they didn't have the mass of forces prepared to bear down on them, there were distractions. They operated well with distractions. The Bryn’adul were all about excess when it comes to their defenses, and now, they were prepared. It took the destruction of Sev Tok to learn what to do, but the Bryn have weaknesses…
So, the fool Bryn march to war once more following their embarrassing defeats at Sev Tok and Nar Kreeta. Anvil had seemed a mere fluke that anyone had lived to tell the tale in the wake of such a meatgrinder, but when later victory was recreated on Nar Kreeta and its hollow earth containing the Bryn base there, Hope was rekindled amongst the denizens of the Silver Jedi Concord after a long slew of failures. Men and women arrived anew in droves to sign up for military service, both in the Silver Jedi Defense Force and the elite Antarian Rangers.
It was good that he was no mere clerk pushing papers, for the notion of sorting through all those applications was cause of far greater fear than having to face enemy fire.
Despite his age, Thirdas was already veteran of countless battles, having served in the controversy-laden Dorn Company in his early career. Having earned several battlefield promotions since, Major Heavenshield now found himself addressing an entire battalion of his own creation, each trooper donned in black and red armour and proudly displaying the crimson bow and arrow. This was Jaeger Battalion, aka the Bloody 88th.
"Hunters," he greeted the hangar full of his warriors, all of whom stood at attention for their commanding officer. "At ease!"
"Our first major battle as a fighting unit is upon us. The Bryn are back on the warpath after being so soundly beaten at Nar Kreeta. It would seem the taste of defeat does not sit well with them. Our task is simple, but crucial: Bryn forces have seized Circumtore's moon and are in the process of constructing a weapon we believe to be capable of wiping out entire cities. The 88th are to launch a ground assault on the base and take out that weapon before it becomes operational. Assault is our speciality, after all."
His men chuckled. A useful means to relieve stress before a mission.
"While we keep the defenders occupied, our comrades in Omega Squad is to infiltrate and deactivate the weapon. There will also be allied elements present, so don't shoot at everything you see down there. While intel is sketchy at best, we must assume the base is heavily defended. We will ride into battle aboard these smaller troop carriers, that way we stand the best chance at getting through their orbital defenses and land enough people with which to launch a proper assault on the ground."
Any smiles that still remained were quickly snuffed out.
"Some of us will never reach that moon. If anyone has a problem with this, remove yourself now."
He was proud to see his entire force stand their ground.
"Very well. You know the stakes. Without us, Circumtore will be no more. Remember the anger and loss each of you felt on Sev Tok. As you carve a bloody path through the enemy ranks, let each of them know that we still remember Anvil!"
Just as they cried out what had become their battalion motto, a distant explosion rocked the ship's vast hangar, causing lights to flicker. The Bryn fleet was putting up a fight.
"Report to your transports and mount up! Dismissed!"
His hunters rushed the troop carriers all lined up and ready for takeoff, the major himself being the last to board his designated shuttle. When given the green light, a hundred small vessels would embark from within the hangar and make their descent towards the moon base, dodging incoming fire from the Bryn fleet tasked with defending it.
Some would find themselves more fortunate than others.
V O I D W A L K E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
LEGATE-CLASS BATTLECRUISER NIV 'TRACTA' | FLAGSHIP OF IMPMAG ALLIES:Konrad Harrsk
, Kolson Vrask ENEMIES: Bryn
IMPERIAL MILITARY ASSISTANCE GROUP
IN ASSISTANCE TO | SILVER JEDI CONCORD
-0:10 UNTIL OP TIME
Short and sweet.
Operational information was directly transmitted to his helmet, cradled underneath his elbow as the briefing room was dismissed. Aemilio shot a nod in the direction of one of his direct Commanders, an NCO subordinate who had been with him before they had gone legit. Torayga, a red skinned Zabrak. He promptly disappeared into the sea of stormtroopers as he found Harssk nearby.
COMPNOR was in his blood. The wary gaze he leveled dropping up and down as he appraised the blond haired Imperial. If the rumours of what happened to his father were true, he was certain he was hated. The image of the Felist Future, Tavlar's Regime made manifest before him. Bobbing his head upwards in wordless acknowledgement he turned back to his own direct subordinates before heading to the Hangar, and their imminent deployment.
-0:05 UNTIL DEPLOYMENT
"We've got the first transport... Which means we take point."
Stood atop the ramp of the shuttle before a cluster of bodies, the men that made up his platoon.
"The Silvers are already engaged with the Bryn'adul fleet. TIEs will be running interference between us and them. Whatever comes out the other end of that flight will be what makes up our air support." Certain of his ability, he could see the effect his confidence had on the men that'd follow him. Most of them were the same faces he had grown up with on Bastion. Together, they had formed the Bastion Youth, with him at their head. Thugs of Ravelin some called them. But they had gained legitimacy. And those that hated them in the open were forced to do so in private. For the newly instated Iron Sun Youth Group had gained notoriety in their new image, but that core soul of degeneracy combined with Imperial loyalty had yet to be grown out.
Smiling proudly, despite the flopping of his stomach. "Let's see what these crab-faced bastards got for us, huh?"
Hopping off the ramp as his men clambered up in preparation for what was coming, he planted a hand on Torayga's shoulder. "When we hit the ground hold position with your squad. Secure the LZ for Harssk's team." The last of the platoon got on board, and the easygoing features tensed. "Don't let that COMPNOR baby shoot us in the back, yeah?" Before leaning away and flashing his trademarked smirk before nodding back to the ramp.
"You know I've got your back."
With one final look to the NIV Tracta's hangar deck, Aemilio climbed up the ramp into the dropship.
Mig looked out from the hanger of the Concordia, the vessel's stark white duraplast showing off as it potion of Gred Fleet slid among the Silver Jedi Concord ships. Slightly ahead and below was a Shield-class vessel, and to either side was as pair of Tionas-class, four in all. As he continued to look, a female figure would appear in the form of a hologram. The ship's AI, Cordy, would quickly speak up.
"Alor, are you sure about this? I know in total we have a fleet that could take the Bryn, but...."
"Easy Cordy. Something tells me what happened on Nar Chunna. What Soul did." Cordy slowly nodded, looking out as she checked her ship's scanners.
"I don't want to lose more vode (siblings) to them, Mig." He would nod, knowing what she meant as he looked out, waiting for orders as the Concordia and Tionas's scanners picked up the Bryn fleet. He took a breath, quickly calling out orders. This was usually Malo's job, but she had been injured before the battle, leaving the Alor to take charge.
"All squadrons, launch and be ready for your orders! Rancor, activate jammers and have your weapons ready! Blade group, prepare to join any parties that push in ahead and hit and fade, and Cordy... prepare the main batteries for fire, and the flak guns for defense." The fleet would begin to push forward as Ethereal and Silver City jumped in, with the heavy destroyer beginning to move into a position to enter formation with them, if even for a moment. Cordy would then call out to the ships.
"Ethereal, Silver City. This is Concordia. We're ready to assist anyway we can.
The fleet launchs fighters and begins to move in, joining up with other Silver ships.
Badar let out a heavy sigh, warm air exiting his large lungs. The Baedurin shipmaster-or more appropriately, fleetmaster-was depressed. The loss of Tathra Khaeus had hit him hard. Badar was old, one of the older Drael within The Bryn. He had seen a lot, from heretic uprisings, to "the changing of the guard" in several branches of The Bryn'adul Empire. But never had The Bryn'adul been hit so hard before. Never had he been hit so hard.
Tathra Khaeus was more than his chieftain, he was his friend. This took the sadness of losing a leader and tripled it. Then there were the others...Fleetmaster Ver'kad, Primarch Drek'ma, The Emissary Galak, the mighty warrior Tsud, and so many others....gone, disappeared overnight. No warnings had been given, no subtle hints or instructions were left behind. Nobody knew where the long list of leaders and warriors had gone, and if any knew, they were silent.
Many believed it was The Jedi, somehow using their Force to eliminate or capture the Bryn leaders. Others believed it was the underworld, the nether, the burying grounds, the land of many names...accessible through portals across the galaxy. Some believed this land was created by The Jedi, thus connecting the two theories.
It did not matter what caused the loss of so many. What mattered was the preservation of The Bryn'adul. The allied races, specifically the Vaydralen were questioning the value of their alliance now, especially since the recent defeat at Nar Kreeta. Meanwhile Warlords were playing a political game, gaining power where they could. The council was barely keeping The Bryn'adul together, and this battle was the weak seal that kept the Bryn'adul from shattering.
A victory here would fortify The Bryn. A defeat could mean their end.
Badar had been assigned the mission of holding the enemy fleet at bay until the weapon could be constructed, or rather, put together, on the moon. He had a strong fleet, well balanced, and at the head of it was one of the deadliest ships the Bryn'adul had within their arsenal: A conquestor. The ship was armed to the teeth with Crusader Ballistae, and contained twelve squadrons of Phedrak Fighters to keep any smaller enemy at bay. To move, it utilized not engines, but a worm-like living creature native to Draemidus Prime...Surely the ship brought nothing but dread to the foe.
The formation was triangular. At the tip was the conquestor, Badar's choice to command from, Making up the sides of the triangle were Thruka Ravagers. Underneath The Conquestor was the Ivicerator, and making the base of the triangular formation were two Kraemonin support craft, whose shielding could protect the fleet if it needed to retreat.
In reserve was yet another Conquestor, hopefully it would not be needed. Supporting it was a single Treznor annihilator, a useful ship, but seemingly useless in comparison to The Conquestors.
Badar took one more deep breath, watching as the opposing fleet grew larger and larger by the minute. Then he raised his communication stone, "Warlord Osam. This is Fleetmaster Badar. I have taken position and am awaiting further orders." A simple update to let the warlord know he was ready.
Badar was worried about this battle. He couldn't imagine what Warlord Osam was feeling. Indeed the Srael mixed breed had recently been promoted to warlord, and now was commanding his own fleet alongside Badar's to offer another layer of defenses in case Badar failed. Badar knew well that it was not Osam's specialty. He imagined himself commanding land forces in the most important battle The Bryn'adul would ever fight. Just the thought gave him chills. The Warlord was surely terrified. But then...weren't they all?
Location: In space above Circumtore
Allies: SJO and their allies
Enemies: Bryn'Adul and their allies
Objective: Rain Fire
It had been a very long time coming but Jairdain was finally going to be able to put some skills she had learned many years ago into play. She had once taken a lesson on how to actually fight with a starship. Had one commissioned for herself and then left it collecting dust. Today, was different and she wouldn't be providing support for those fighting. Instead, she was going to be a fighter...or rather, in a fighter.
Her purpose was to keep the Bryn ships from obliterating the Silver ships and anybody else up there on their side. The ship she had was a special one and while it was slow, it packed a large amount of firepower. It was also was built almost as strong as a tank. Going hand in hand with that, it did turn like a bus. If she needed to move quickly, then she would be in trouble.
Checking her communications before even lifting off, she was in the clear there and could hear all the chatter going on. Orders were given to take off and she left with the rest of the fighters. Two were assigned to stay with her and hopefully take care of any hecklers that spotted her.
Taking up a position near one of the turrets, these were just some additional protection for her. Not bothering to turn on any targeting computer, she allowed the Force to guide her actions and shots. Luckily, the Bryn was alien to her and thus their emotions looked differently to her through the Force. Locking onto them, she let out sprays of ion in the hopes of slowing them down.
After the skirmish on T'surr, Kazsk had taken some personal time, most of it spent aiding old friend Vasiliy Salkanov
. However, while on an important mission with Vasiliy involving figures of their past, Kazsk was notified of the recent Bryn invasion. He had not been present for the first wave, but after witnessing what destruction they could bring upon the galaxy, he knew it was time. Time to get back and help save the galaxy.
The Jedi Knight was starting to lose hope however. After Csilla was annihilated, Kazsk started to believe that not even the Jedi could stop this wave of chaos. Perhaps it was the will of the force, but then perhaps it was not.
With a reassuring conversation with Vasiliy, which was unlike his old pal, Kazsk finally navigated his way through their remaining personal missions and made his way back to Silver space. When he arrived, things looked dire. The Jedi had been holding the line and won some key battles, but the Bryn were near unstoppable and kept on with their ravage, seeming to not even be bothered by their losses or even worse, seemed to be bolstered by them.
As Kazsk landed a few days before the battle, something hit him, mentally. A feeling he never thought he would have nor ever wanted.
He suddenly almost feared to face his fellow Jedi after perhaps somewhat abandoning them after T'surr and during most of this Bryn invasion.
Kazsk had never doubted his own intentions, but now he had a bit. Had he been selfish in leaving Silver space to help his old friend? He wasn't sure either way. The next few days, Kazsk hid himself in the sewers and back alleys, hoping to avoid crossing paths with any Jedi, and with anyone else for that matter. But one day, he saw a Jedi Padawan helping a few orphans get their stuff packed up for the evacuation. And just with that kind deed, Kazsk rediscovered his purpose.
He was a Jedi Knight, sworn to protect the helpless of the galaxy. To look after those who could not look after themselves.
Till the day he would die, Kazsk would always attempt to uphold that oath, for which he took years ago at the feet of the Jedi Council. He remembered his purpose and found within himself new courage. When he revealed himself, no one seemed to recognize him which actually comforted him. His courage only increased when he saw the Jedi gather and prepare to face on coming darkness and death. With that, Kazsk knew he was back in the right place. Among the Jedi, fighting the storm of the darkness of which was to come. Standing his ground, saber in grip, ready to protect the galaxy from those who would see it harmed.
The day of the battle came at last......
Kazsk made his way into the Lower City, where the battle was soon to take place. As he made his way to where a crowd was assembling, he recognized one Jedi among the group gathered, standing somewhat distinguished from the rest, and for good reason.
A Jedi master he had known briefly on Kashyyyk and had spoke to on a few other occasions. He was a true hero in every sense of the word. Kazsk had a strong respect and admiration for the Jedi Master. However, he doubted that he would even remember Kazsk from their brief meetings. Still, with no fear anymore, Kazsk to make his way through the crowd to speak to Caltin. He stopped, now noticing that Caltin with another Jedi were trying to rally the group of civilians, criminals, and mercenaries assembled in this square within the lower city.
Kazsk didn't need to be told of the tension here, he saw it for himself. It was dreadfully clear that the civilians didn't not trust the Jedi, nor respect them either. Common to most systems that felt abandoned by their rulers and protectors, the people of Circumtore began to turn against the Concord for how it viewed its care of their planet. For good reason, it is hard for any functioning galactic power to please and keep every system happy. It became 10 times as hard during wartime, and this was during another horrific Bryn invasion, the likes of which the galaxy had never seen before their arrival.
But they would need to stop their bickering and complaining. Not because the Concord said so, but because it was what was going to be needed for them to prevail.
For the people of Circumtore, if they lost here, there would be no future, no planet to call home. None of the political and economic issues would matter anymore, nothing would matter anymore. Defeat meant destruction and death.
Kazsk was not willing to let another planet fall under the grimy, filthy, murderous hands of the Bryn'adul. He and Jedi were hoping the people would feel the same.
As the crowd began to bicker, Caltin began to speak profoundly, as he often did when needed. He began to plead for them to fight. The people continued to bring up old and faded Jedi stereotypes, and each time Caltin shot them down. He gave his speech with fury and righteous belief.
Kazsk smiled as he maneuvered himself to a pillar sideways of where Caltin was speaking from. He leaned against the pillar, mellow as a Meiloorun. He crossed his arms and continued to observe Caltin's speech and the reaction of the growing crowd. Suddenly, the Jedi Master used his powers and destroyed two Bryn transports and then flung their wrecks at three more oncoming Bryn craft. The display began to garner the support of those in the crowd with the will to fight.
Kazsk continued to observe and waiting till after for when he would approach the Jedi. He would wait and let him finish. He had a feeling that his compatriot's words were going to be inspiring.
And they were. They began to rally and prepare to fight. Of course some were scared, but that was fine. For as long as they fought and fought like wolves, they might just prevail against the onslaught of the Bryn'adul. The Bryn were now sending more troop carriers down to the surface and they would be upon them very soon. Time was not on their side, and it seemed like it never was. But to be honest, who cares? Just as long we win, right?
As Caltin's finished his profound speech to the crowd, there was a lack of cheer. Of course they were ready to fight, well most were. But they needed a push. One more call to arms to get them truly riled up and ready to fight to the end. Kazsk thought he could give it a go.
The Jedi Knight walked up from the pillar he had been standing next to and made his way next to Caltin. As the crowd murmured, Kazsk approached the Jedi Master from the side. He stopped a few feet from him, just a step below where the Jedi had taken his place. He turned and nodded in agreement to the big guy, assuring him that he was with him in this fight. Kazsk soon turned back towards the crowd who seemed to notify his presence as he was standing next to the big Jedi who had just given such inspiring words. The Jedi Knight looked out among the large crowd, seeing the eagerness and anger within most of their eyes.
He now took a breath in and prepared to speak to the crowd. By this time, most of the people had turned and focused on him as it was clear he was about to speak. "Too late now Kazsk, now you gotta come through", he thought to himself.
He gave an exhale and unleashed his words, and at the same time he could sense the Bryn landing their troops behind him.
"WELL LADS, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, LETS GO KILL SOME BRYN!!!!!!!!!".
The gathered crowd began to erupt in cheer and fury.
"LETS HAVE EM BOYS!!!", said one mercenary captain.
"Aye, we eating Drael for dinner", spoke an intoxicated civilian soldier, who clearly couldn't handle his booze.
"HOORAH!!!!!", shouted one Concord Sergeant standing a few feet from the Jedi. Kazsk threw his arms in the air a few times as the volume of the crowd got louder and louder. His words echoed around the city square and down the adjacent streets and corridors. it seemed mostly everyone got riled up and were ready to bully the Bryn. He smiled as the crowd continued to shout and cheer. Kazsk turned and faced the Jedi Master.
"Master Caltin, I am Kazsk Morno, Jedi Knight". He took a quick deep breath. "It will be an honor to fight beside you", as he finished his shortly bowed his head in a bit of deference and then raised it just as quick. He didn't bring up that he might have spoken to him a while back, that didn't matter. All that mattered was the fight ahead them. Kazsk soon looked over the Jedi's shoulder and could see the Bryn nearly at the gates. For this fight, was one they must win.
Peyton Steele, a spy of numerous governments, an agent, and now Force-awakened. She had her skills and that meant when push was coming from the Bryn’adul, she had to do what she could to help people. Jedi were being deployed elsewhere in this conflict, Peyton and her team of Rangers and the team of Irregulars that have remained with her since the fall of Coruscant at the hands of Raaf, were moving to the planet. Their attack shuttle now given its official Silver Concord transponder. Heading for the planet as evacuation ships were leaving, and those that couldn’t get offworld were heading below.
Knowing what she knew of the galaxy, there were people that just wouldn’t trust the Jedi, nor the military. That was why her team was given special permissions to dress in plain clothes. The shuttle, the Starbird Attack Shuttle known as the Starry Skate found itself in a secure landing position, again, compliments of the new Concord transponder. The team was starting to unload, a few extra rifles, thermal detonators, and side arms.
“Ok team, check in.” Peyton said as she placed her earpiece in its obvious location. As others were prepping their gear after stepping out of the shuttle, she heard them checking in.
As she nodded and checked her two stun batons she smiled. “Big Guy, this is Steele, you read? Team Senth ready. We’re moving to the lower levels.” She stated. The blonde haired woman was in a navy blue body suit, utility belt, pistol on her hip. This was before the speech, but she was hearing that.
It was going to assist others.
One of her advance members had found them an abandoned storefront, something that people seemed to recognize and they were prepping to set it up to be a bit of a bunker, in another galaxy, an Alamo. “Alright boys and girls, looks like the Bryn are definitely on their way here. And this is our world! We’re not letting them steal it!”
The larger member of her team was, luckily, from this world. He was a face and a familiar accent. “Concord has its fleet here, been hearing that over comms. But I ain’t trusting them to be the only ones defending whats mine!” There were several others in this area, many with guns, others with improvised weapons. “Got extra arms here! We hold this block!”
It wasn’t like that was going to win the war, but it’d keep them from getting past this block to the Economic Centre from this direction, and that was all they needed to do.
“I’ll go ahead, see if I can trap some in to your guns.” Peyton said, doing her best to affect the accent she heard. She was already on the move to find a sniper nest, and somewhere she could get in close.
Location: The Undercity of Tilrinn, the Train Station Objectives: Create Chaos, cause a scene. Allies: The Bryn'adul (Nominally) Enemies: The Silver Jedi Concord (Nominally) Equipment: Beskar'gam , Terentatek Body Glove,Longtooth, 'Kath Hound' Shotgun,Charging Rhyno, Assorted Grenades (Force Breakers, Sonic Disruptors, Fragmentation) Infiltrating the city of Tilrinn wasn't an incredibly difficult affair. The Mandalorian didn't hold any formal allegiance to the Bryn'adul, to him they were a means to an end. He might have been there a day, a week prior to the invasion of Circumtore concealing himself in the undercity and its lower levels. When the evacuation was sounded and the fighting began he took advantage of it.
Wandering the endless corridors, streets and alleyways that made the undercity Naimes ahn-Dross let himself blend in with his surroundings by keeping to the edge of any group he encountered. He wore a duster overtop of his personal Beskar'gam, his buy'ce clipped over his right hip beneath the cover of the ankle length coat aiding in his disguise. On his person were numerous personal weapons, small arms, etc. Longtooth was sheathed over his back, running diagonally so that the hilt came up over his left shoulder while the blade crossed his back to extend down past his right hip; the pommel came up out of the duster. A 'Kath Hound' Shotgun was the Mandalorian's weapon of choice when it came to firefights.
The Train Station was packed, bodies pressing up against one another in some places as civilians waited to evacuate. The Mandalorian was another face in the crowd until... "A Mandalorian, here?"
...Naimes had been moving through the crowd until a hand set itself across his shoulder causing him to pause mid step, he looked back to see a face he didn't recognize. Further examination revealed the robes of a Jedi and a young face, a padawan most likely who was probably raised hearing stories about Mandalorians. He may have spotted a hint of the armor beneath the duster...
"Have you come to help us fight the Bryn'adul? We could use every able body we can ge---"
...Naimes had cut him off before he could finish speaking, swinging around and shrugging his hand aside in the process until he was looking at this nameless Jedi. There was some surprise written on the young mans face when Naimes struck him once in the stomach, the strength of the blow augmented by his cybernetic arm before tossing him towards one of the train cars where he fell into a heap. Bystanders who witnessed the brief altercation seemed stunned by what they'd witnessed. Jedi weren't omnipotent, their mastery of the force was commendable but they were just men and women.
"We are all of us what we do."
...a phrase, he spoke it to himself. Reaching into the duster he wore his hands would reemerge holding the Kath Hound. Pumping the Kath Hound he'd raise it into the air, over his head and start firing. The Shotgun belched out its payload throughout the Train Station, people panicked and ran. A place so tightly packed would undoubtedly become chaotic in the aftermath but Naimes didn't run, he was clearing a space for himself and whomever arrived. As for that nameless Padawan, the Mandalorian didn't kill him; that wasn't his game.
Reshmar sat at his desk watching the small light on his console slinking. The red light strobed slowly with a hypnotic pace indicating the Admiral had a message. the Mon Calamari closed his eyes for a moment letting the darkness of his eyelids block out the persisting light. He knew it was time, it was evident as the sounds of boots running through the corridor outside rang muffled through the thin walls of his ready room. The 38th had only arrived minutes before the Brynadul ships. He had gotten word from an operative they would find the alien race there.
The endless battles with the Brynadul were growing old. For every inch, the Concord fought tooth and nail against the ruthless aliens. The price for fighting the endless hordes of the enemy was far too high. Millions of souls had been devoured by the savage aliens, their appetite for discord and chaos endless. The combined forces above Circumtore grew larger as the minutes passed, each new vessel adding to the force bearing down on the Bryn fleet. Reshmar knew the force assembling above the besieged world would win the day. He had faith in his and the allied crews. He was also aware that whatever victory won this day would be paid in the lives of his friends and allies. Lives extinguished in an instant all for nothing more than an artificial rock hanging in space. Reshmar considered the world and its inhabitants. Hutts and their degenerate lackeys, Bounty hunters, pirates. The galaxy would not miss most of this denizen yet, they were part of the Concord and must be protected as any other world under its domain. Reshmar opened his eyes and looked at the red blinking light then pressed it.
"Report," said Reshmar as the communications channel opened. A short pause fell silent on the room as Resgmar awaited his captain's voice.
"Sir, Hostilities have begun, the enemy and Concord fleet have opened fire." said the vessel's captain. Reshmar closed his eyes once again to think about all the lives he had seen lost in his life, about the lives which would be added to the count this day.
"Very well Captain I will be in the CIC in a moment," answered Reshmar. He closed the channel and stood, straightening his coat and turning to face the door of the small room. As he neared the hatch slid open and the bright light of the corridor invaded the darker room causing Reshmar's eyes to squint a bit to adjust to the brightness. He stepped out into the corridor and began the short walk to the forward lift. the lift door shut and the silent repulsors lifted the cylinder rapidly up to the command deck. As the door slid open, Reshmar could see the commotion of the crew preparing for battle. A short Mon Calamari female stood straight and shouted "Admiral on deck". Reshmar dismissed the crew from attention and walked to the central command chair and took his seat. As he sat the command couch came alive, displays lighting up and holographic images popping up around him. Reshmar swung the seat into a position where he could see the forward display and the magnified image of the Bryn fleet in the distance.
"Captain, let's get started shall we," said Reshmar looking at the Mon Calamari captain to his left. The man nodded and turned to give orders to his crew.
"Tactical Get me a solution on every object out there larger than a bantha. Begin real-time analysis and keep the laser transmitters online. Communications, open an active channel to all ships in the combat zone, let them know we are beginning our attack. "Colonel, have our fighters and gunships ready, we are keeping them on standby, for now, I want them warm and ready to go when we need them. " Reshmar paused and looked out at the force in the distance. He looked at the forces now moving to engage the Brynadul then turned to his subordinate,
"Captain, Co-ordinate with the carrier force. Advise them we will be opening a safe corridor for them to move into, Have them form up on the 321st and 344th. They will need to stay tight and follow close. Inform our corvettes it is time to run." Reshmar said then paused to watch the captain communicate the orders to the individual section commanders. Reshmar brought up a holo display and looked at the three-dimensional image begin to propagate with information on the contacts in the battle zone. The Haash'n sat centrally of the two flanking Pursuit lines. each line of three corvettes began to move into a line formation and slowly began to accelerate away from the Hassh'n towards the enemy at 50-degree angles on the port and starboard flanks from their position. As the corvette groups moved away from the Concord formation the Picket line formed up in front of Haash'n in diamond formation.
"Hold here for now captain, Let the big guns get into position, we will guard the back door," said Reshmar as he studied the hologram image displayed before him. "Let's see how this plays out," said Reshmar watching the corvettes pick up speed moving away from the Concord formation flanking the battlefield.
Actions 321st Pursuit line moving port to flank the enemy formations
344th Pursuit line moving starboard to flank enemy formations
355th Command line holding stationary arrear of SJC main formation
327th Picket line forming up on the prow of Haash'n awaiting orders