When the Skye Falls [First Order Dominion of Skye]

[Aram Kalast]

Spoiler

OOC:

Spoiler

Objectives:
Objective A:
Ground Sweep
Supreme Commander Kalast has dispatched the 501st and their allies to assault the Resistance Stronghold which has been located in a valley deep in the Highland’s of Skye. It will be this conflict that see’s the stronghold destroyed and the locals aiding them removed.
Objective B:
Repel the Resistance
When the First Order entered the system the Resistance dispatched several fighter flights to attempt to cause a retreat from the air and isolate the ground forces from their support. Protect the Star Destroyers and destroy the Resistance Forces.
Objective C:
Round up the Locals
The locals need to be subjugated to our needs. While the fight for against the Resistance takes place elsewhere the First Order expects to see the native S’kytri people rounded up and placed into temporary ‘re-education’ camps and await processing.
Objective D:
BYOO
Bring your own objective.
Do what you want for the cause of the First Order.

OOC thread is here.

Objective: B
Allies: None
Enemies: The Resistance
Posts: 1/20

The wedges of the First Order fleet had brought a surprising message to Skye.
Aram stared out at the glowing orb of the mountainous world that had managed to stay out of the problems of the galaxy, yet right now they were about to find themselves right in the First Orders sights.

Reports had come back through the channels that the Eriadu Alliance, or the Resistance as they had become known had established some form of base on the world, a movement that could not be allowed to continue so close to the First Order central hub. What was worse was the rumours that the locals were actually helping these terrorists with their construction. It was a crime against everything they had fought so hard to achieve and now the First Order would show them the errors of their ways.

The troop transports had been dispatched, the 501st already enroute to the planets surface where they would begin the violent removal of the Resistance and end their presence on Skye for good, but already the scanners of the Retribution-Class Star Destroyer that Aram was in control of were already picking up fighter signals coming from the planet itself. It was almost too perfect, the Supreme Commander resisting the urge to say “Our first catch of the day.”

Skye was about to feel the First Order’s full power. You almost had to feel sorry for them.

 

[Nyx]

Objective: A​

Allies: The First Order​

Enemies: The Resistance​

Post Count: 1/20​

​

As the First Order rained judgement upon Skye, two Resistance fighters stood at their posts, horrified at what they were seeing. From their vantage point on the mountain, they could see the First Order ships filled with stormtroopers descend upon their base, AA fire attempting to slow them down. Their comm units blared with panicked orders, both rebels too petrified to move. They knew it would happen eventually, of course. They all did. They knew the cost of fighting the tyranny of the First Order, they just didn't expect retribution this soon. The two glanced at each other, maintaining white knuckled grips on their blaster rifles. They had to move, to fight, to shoot a stormtrooper, they had to do anything! Anything but stand there and wait for the inevitable end.​

Unfortunately, that end was closer than they thought.​

As one turned to relocate to a better position, he was met with a wooden staff slamming into his face. He crashed to the ground with a cry, his partner whirling, blaster heating up as he pulled the trigger. But the shot went wide as the staff whacked into the side of the rifle, the back end impacting into the underside of his chin. The wielder of the staff quickly turned to the first rebel, who was rising from the blow. She sent a kick his way, knocking him to the ground, twirling her staff to whack his head once more, effectively putting him out of the fight. Satisfied the first was out of commission, she turned to the second, who was attempting to flee. Smirking, she gathered Force energy in her hands, and after a few moments, released it. The wave hit the rebel, flinging him off the side of the mountain to his screaming death.​

Mordred stood for a moment in the silence after the short battle, panting for breath. Well, that had went better than she had expected, honestly. Satisfied in her to snuff out lives like inconvenient candles, she turned to view the destruction as the First Order landed. Truly, her search had been worth it.​

 

[Ricochet]

Post [1/20]
Objective A:
Ground Sweep
Supreme Commander Kalast has dispatched the 501st and their allies to assault the Resistance Stronghold which has been located in a valley deep in the Highland’s of Skye. It will be this conflict that see’s the stronghold destroyed and the locals aiding them removed.
Company: White Wolves [[member="Kyle Amedis"][member="Scorpios Riley"][member="Silas Khras"][member="Torch"][member="Finn Dexrin"][member="BG-4463"][member="Razelle Breuner"]]

​

​

Rows of white clad First Order Stormtroopers wait patiently in the metallic bowels of a transport that was flying across the terrain of the terrestrial world of Skye. With the order now officially establish in Dosuun, it was time to spread the influence and consume worlds to form a strong base of powers. One of these transports held the dreaded 501st White Wolves - the very Fist of Kalast. Awaiting at the end of her company of stormtroopers was their brutal commander Ricochet. Cradling her blaster rifle she barked a set of commands at her unit as the low hum of the engines and the crackling sounds of air begin cut by steel echoed in the transport.

"Listen up Wolves." Ricochet shouted. "Supreme Commander has demanded that the Highlands ahead be cleared of any rebel presence. And we have been given this special task. Intelligence says that there is a stronghold, heavy and ready to fight."

"We will land, establish a beachhead and then pulverise these rebel scum into non-existence, is that clear!?" demanded Ricochet.

"Yes m'am!" The wolves barked back in unison.

"Remember you are more than Stormtroopers, you are Knights of Order. Of Peace and Coherence in a Galaxy full of rebellion and chaos. Show no mercy and bring about the glorious future this world deserves!" Ricochet bellowed.

The transport justled and landed. The ramp opened and the troops began to flood out.

"Let's move out! Ripper! [member="BG-4463"]! Move your gunners forward I want cover now! Make a sweep and call for contact!"

 

[Disciple]

Two guns, four riflemen, that was your rifle squad. The ramp lowered and BG powered down, sleek weapon strapped to his shoulder by a tightly fitted strap. Coming down into a storm of blaster fire, he calmly set about erecting the weapon on its stand while the others set about their duties. Namely, taking cover and providing suppression fire while he got set up. It took roughly a second and a half, and then he was shooting downrange in a stream of red.

That, along with his twin, mostly quieted the landing zone as Stormtroopers began to move forward - bound and overwatch, mind your cover and each other.

It was going to be a long day.

 

[AI-01]

Post [1/20]
Objective A
Allies: White Wolves(?), Mordred(?)
Enemies: Resistance

The droid wasn't an official part of the military - yet. Oh, it was certainly on the side of the First Order, but it bared no markings from them, it had never met most of them - it simply found itself respecting them. What better way, it thought, to earn its place, than in battle?. One two three, it lit up its rocket boots, jumping into a tree, landing in the thick upper canopy. It was taking notes of the positions around it - so far, it seemed like they had landed... unnoticed. This would not last long, the droid noted, as the 501st began landing. It could already hear the screams from the resistance fighters, as some fell back to their stronghold, and others began taking up forward positions.

Thermal sensors read at least a dozen holding forward positions - a few turrets and droids as well. There was no feed to the First Order however, and they were unaware as their ramp went down and the Resistance started shooting. There was an almost silent clicking, as Ohone's right arm readied the long silenced pistol that was built into it, the droid taking a position in the tree canopy, and firing a single silenced shot at a Resistance member with an oversized gatling-laser. There was no red bolt, no colored energy blast as it happened, the droid making used of tiny projectiles as it did - the soldier with the oversized weapon just suddenly went from charging it up to fire at the opening ramp, to jerking their head to one side, and falling over, bleeding profusely.

That was one down, eleven more to go at this position. The droid ducked low, and moved itself down the tree, sliding off out of view of the resistance. Too many shots from one spot was dangerous, it'd have to keep moving.

Tags: [member="Ricochet"]​

 

[Nyx]

Objective: A​

Allies: [member="Ricochet"], [member="BG-4463"], [member="AL-01"], The First Order​

Enemies: The Resistance​

Post Count: 2/20​

​

In retrospect, perhaps having the shuttle drop her off on top of a mountain wasn't the brightest idea she'd ever had.​

Mordred cursed her lack of foresight as she sprinted down the Resistance mountain path, her staff secured to her back, out of the way. Below her, the White Wolves were landing, and looked like they were meeting heavy resistance from the Resistance. Heh.​

As blaster fire choked the air, Mordred made her way to the actual fight.​

Ahead of her, she spotted a small group of three Resistance fighters also running to the battle, their backs to her. She smiled as she grabbed her staff, speeding up as she planned to ram into their backs. One of the fighters heard her charge and started to turn, his eyes wide as he beheld a young woman with a staff sprinting towards a group of armed men. He didn't have time to shout out a warning as she barreled into him, knocking him to the ground in the middle of his colleagues, making them stumble. Mordred was up in an instant, using her staff to sweep the other rebel's feet from under them, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she analyzed the situation: the first one trying to stumble to his feet, fumbling for his blaster. A quick blow with her staff remedied that, the rebel nursing his smarting hand as his blaster tumbled over the edge of the mountain. Her celebration was ended as a rebel grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her back.​

Mordred struggled in his grip, using her legs to kick the others away as she tried to devise a plan. Just as one managed to aim his blaster, Mordred rapidly moved her head backwards, smashing into her captor's face. He released her to grab at his broken and bleeding nose as she ducked, the rebel with the blaster pulling the trigger, only to shoot his friend, the corpse falling off the side. Mordred smirked as sweeped his legs from under him, quickly leaping to her feet, grabbing her fallen staff. She used the staff to stab into the fallen rebel's throat, crushing his windpipe, putting him out of commission. The final rebel just stared at her, until she waved her hand and he flew off the edge of the mountain.​

Another few lives ended, Mordred nodded to herself and resumed her trek to the Resistance base.​

 

[Greifen Ren]

Objective: A
Posts: 1/20
Allies: [member="Mordred"] [member="AL-01"] [member="BG-4463"] [member="Ricochet"]

There would be no better way to subjugate the planet Skye than through the glories of trial by combat, Greifen Ren thought. The budding First Order would earn every ounce of its honor and prestige on the battlefield, and nothing would be easy. Everything would be a test to make the First Order stronger, for that was what the Dark Side demanded. The Knights of Ren would see this planet purged of hostile abominations, before it would eventually be turned over to the likes of [member="Natasi Fortan"] for proper terraforming and transformation into a First Order satellite state. Greifen sensed his associate's presence here on Skye, likely far away from the battle.

He, on the other hand, bounded down the exit ramps behind the White Wolves Company, his seething red lightsaber already in hand and activated. He would be part of the first wave of attack, and would not cease in his duties until every hostile force had been eliminated from this fetid planet. Greifen Ren charged forward. There was a small bunker of Resistance soldiers keeping the Stormtroopers pinned down. However, they were not as well-trained in tactics and battlefield readiness as the Stormtrooper legions.

Upon seeing a black-clad figure with a sinister red lightsaber charging forward, they tried to run, as most did. They were not fast enough. Greifen Ren caught up to them, and then instantly savored the first moment his blade met flesh, his horizontal swing cleaving one of the men in two at the torso. The second attempted to wheel around and shoot the Knight of Ren in one last-ditch effort to escape with his life. Greifen brought his lightsaber around and batted the shot away with contempt. There was a moment when his cold eyes fell upon the glazed, terror-stricken stare of the enemy soldier and lingered. The young man backpedaling before him was not much younger than Greifen himself, and there was a time not so very long ago that Greifen was just like him. Scared and afraid, cowering from his true potential. However, now things couldn't be any different. Greifen would end him without remorse or pity. Another swing of his blade cleaved the young man's head off, and Greifen Ren felt a surge of power and energy flow through his veins, his kill amplifying his strength.

"These men are not worth of our mercy, soldiers," He shouted back at the members of the White Wolves before him. "They are like cattle, barely human, therefore let us make such an end of them!"

 

[Disciple]

Objective: A
Posts: 2/20
Allies: [member="Greifen Ren"] [member="Ricochet"] [member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Mordred"]

BG stitched blasterfire across a dirt embankment being used as makeshift cover. One stormtrooper charged forward, underhanding a grenade over the lip to clear a path through the line just as a black robed figure with a brilliant red saber erupted from the transport. Darting through like the human battering ram most Force Users fancied themselves to be, he hefted up his weapon and motioned the squad forward.

Ahead, flashes and howling blaster fire spoke to a fight on two fronts, and BG didn't need to be told of mercy.

Every groaning Rebel was granted 'mercy.' With the stand folded up under his heavy weapon, he simply snapped off shots into their bodies as he passed, the heavy repeater moving fluid in his hands like an artist's brush across canvas. "Squad, keep cover on the Sith. He'll be drawing the attention." The soldiers that had been driven before [member="Greifen Ren"] like cattle quickly realized that running wasn't getting them anywhere.

It was never just one section of a line that broke, and often, even the most rudimentary trained soldiers would form something of a coherent fallback. And that meant when you couldn't run, you fought. As they leveled their weapons at the Sith, they were met with a vomit of red blaster fire, BG striding up alongside the Force User. The Repeater was still strapped to his shoulder, tucked just under his armpit, and he was using his torso as a swivel to stitch blaster fire across the last vestiges of Resistance on the beachhead.

"Dropsite clear." His voice was clear and calm over the comms.

 

[Krayn]

Objective: D (BYOO)
Locate and Remove the S’kytri Patriarch and Supreme Council
Allies: None as Yet
Enemies: The S’kytri and a Mysterious Force User
Post: 01/20

While it had been expected for Belis to have landed with the main attack force in the north he had in fact taken a separate transport south towards the Outlands where the First Order scouts had tracked the retreat of the S’kytri Supreme Council soon after the landing of the main invasion force.
It was these people that Belis was charged with finding, their removal would see the S’kytri people leaderless and broken, a combination that would ease the Governing Council’s subjection of the locals immensely.
Then there was also the rumour of the Jedi following them about.
It had been rumoured that some of the Lightside practitioners had broken off from their temples to join the Resistance, a fact that the Knights of Ren had taken to with extreme interest. If their was a Jedi out there, Belis would find them and remove the threat.

The terrain of the Outlands was what was to be expected of wild Skye, a patchy Tundra that was wet, cold and desolate. Belis had managed to get on the trail of the Supreme Council and was slowly closing the gap. He had almost lost them through a stream, uncertain of why a species that as capable of flight had kept to the ground. The Force however guided his way, pushing him onwards with his black cloak and mask of vengeance.

He would find them soon.

 

[Aram Kalast]

Objective B
Post: 02/20

“Sir all land transports have reported in. The attack force is on the ground.” Someone from one of the command pits spoke out as Aram continued to observe the planet and the digital read-outs on the command monitors. “The Resistance has been engaged.”
“Excellent.” Aram said simply as he watched the communications of his Stormtrooper Legions begin to flare through the consoles. They were making early ground, he just hoped that they could keep it up as they got closer and closer to the Resistance Base itself. “What of the flight teams, have we had launch yet?”
“Momentarily Sir.” The aide shouted out again. “We are awaiting target numbers.”
“Three squadrons.” Another added. “Bombers and escorts.”
It was a typical attack, the Resistance geared surprisingly well, far to similar to the nearby Galactic Alliance for Aram’s liking.

The First Order battle group, three Retribution-Class Star Destroyers and two Consolidator class began to fall into a wedge formation, Aram’s flagship taking the point as they turned and faced the on-coming fighters head on.
“Keep targets and engage when ranged.” Aram ordered, his words going through not just his command but that of the other ships. “Launch fighters.”

Down in the launch bays of the Retribution-class the TIE-fighters began to launch, releasing in squadron waves designed to make the most of formation before they would be forced to scatter. However before the fighters would be able to fight the First Order TIE’s they would get through the sudden laser fire of the capitol ships, a deadly cloud of destruction that had already claimed its first victim thanks to the exemplary training of the Retribution-Class’ gunners.

 

[Greifen Ren]

Objective: A
Allies: [member="BG-4463"] @Mordred@AI-01 [member="Ricochet"]
Posts: 2/20

It seemed that his presence had drawn some attention. As it should. Greifen was perhaps being a bit overzealous in his charge towards the enemy, and as his red blade lanced through the air and deflected a blaster bolt back towards his attacker, more began to target him in response. But such was his duty; it was his imperative as a Knight of Ren to act as a decisive hammer on the battlefield, breaking enemy formations and swinging the tide in favor of the First Order. The Stormtroopers behind him were there to assist, gunning down the enemies that targeted Greifen.

So much fire had been directed towards him that he could not deflect it all. A blaster bolt slithered past the defenses of his lightsaber and caught his arm. Were it not for Greifen's robes, the wound would have been quite painful and debilitating. Fortunately, the armorweave of his robes absorbed most of the damage, leaving Greifen only with a sharp sting on his bicep and a small burn mark to go with it. It would only be more fuel for the fire, as he channeled the pain to feed his power and aggression.

Greifen turned towards [member="BG-4463"], who was standing next to him. "Good," He replied, before ducking behind the bunker he had just cleared. "What is your operating number, trooper? I will move around to the left to flank the forces uphill. Join me if you will," He said above the din of battle.

 

[Nyx]

Objective: A​

Allies: [member="Greifen Ren"], [member="Ricochet"], [member="BG-4463"], The First Order​

Enemies: The Resistance, Hindsight​

Post Count: 3/20​

​

If she was to give the stormtroopers anything, they were certainly effective. Although she would rather pull out her own fingernails than use such an uncivilized weapon, their proficiency with blasters was impressive. Truly, the rebels didn't stand a chance against the might of the First Order. Her slight moment of nationalistic pride over, she continued her trek down the mountain. Her progress mirrored that of the invading stormtroopers, who had established a foothold at the landing site. Her respect for their ability only increased as she observed them in battle.​

Her short journey left several Resistance corpses both on the path and tumbling down the mountain. Though Mordred was certainly no stranger to death, it was unprecedented for her to kill these many sentient beings in such a short time. She counted at least ten so far, their faces stuck in her mind's eye. But she dismissed them after a moment, her concentration back onto the path. If they did not wish to die, they should not have obstructed her path to power and victory. ​

The Disciple happened to notice the rebels steadily falling back, leaving little but tracks and corpses behind them. Her grip tightened on her staff as she continued forward, eager to prove herself to the Supreme Leader. He was the key to power, and she would obtain that power, no matter the cost to herself or those unfortunate enough to stand in her way. Such as these rebels.​

Speaking of rebels, Mordred's thoughts were interrupted as a blaster bolt impacted on her shoulder, sending heat and sharp, biting pain throughout her body. Crying out in pain, Mordred lost her balance on the narrow path, and began to roll down the side of the mountain, her staff following behind. She grunted with each impact against the steep ground, the blaster wound stinging as dirt rubbed into it. She finally came to a stop at the bottom, laying on the ground for a moment as she tried to catch her breath, only to have her staff smack her back. She grabbed the weapon as she grumbled about the unfairness of it all, slowly rising, holding a hand to her wounded shoulder. She then noticed the line of rebels before her, staring at the young woman who had just fallen off of a mountain.​

She dived behind an outcropping as they opened fire, gripping her staff tightly as bolts impacted on her improvised cover. Her wooden weapon would not block blasters for long, and her wound took too much of her concentration away for her to use her Force abilities to effectively redirect them. For now, it would appear Mordred had no choice but to sit and wait for an opening.​

 

[AI-01]

Objective A
Post: 2/20

The droid had little to do after their first kill, sticking to the shadows of the trees as they made their way further towards the stronghold. The stormtroopers were cleaning up the initial group perfectly well, and they had no need to reveal themselves this early. Ohone was quiet for a droid, few noises despite its metallic feet - a remarkable feat of engineering, and it went mostly unmolested as it traveled. Thermal sensors detected a few resistance soldiers, but none that caught the droid's particular attention, though what exactly would was a mystery even to it.

But as it moved, it saw something else - a single person, behind rocks, being shot at by a hodgepodge group. Heat signatures were varied, the stormtrooper armor ensured almost all of them had the same heat signature - resistance, then. There was no real cover to approach from, besides from behind - and so [member="Mordred"] was left to being shot at for a few moments, as AI got into position.

One arm formed a gun, while the other's wrist blade began to vibrate under the high frequencies. Its movements were almost silent, until the sound of armor being ripped through and flesh being impaled came - the droid's bladed wrist digging into the chest of a rebel that it twisted in front of it, gun held over the dying rebel's shoulder as Ohone made use of its literal meatshield. The few moments of hesitance was all the droid needed from the line of rebels - afraid to kill their own, even as the blood flowed down his chest.

There was sound this time, as the arm-gun let loose not one, not two, nor three, but a whole barrage of shots, from over the shoulder of the human shield, the droid keeping the automatic weapon perfectly still, as if there were no recoil. One down, two down, three were dead on the floor before they began shooting back, holes blasted in their own fellow resistance member. No longer useful as a shield, the body was thrown towards the remaining resistance fighters, and the droid dropped to the ground in an instant, a loud metallic clang as they did so, their gun arm still shooting - this time, taking out the legs of the resistance fighters, while a body still flew at them.

The world moved like slow motion to the droid, as it processed each movement separately, and by the time the shooting stopped, the small line of rebels that had been pinning down [member="Mordred"] lay dead or dying, bleeding profusely onto the ground - a testament to the non-energy nature of the droid's blasters, no wounds cauterized or sealed. The yellow and blue droid stood again, glancing to the rocks, swiping its bloodied, now red arm blade towards it, before turning away, looking back towards where the stronghold would lay.

They assuredly knew the droid was coming now, it had heard one of them calling in the 'yellow droid' - it no longer could pose as a non-threat, and it knew it. An annoyance, for certain. "Suggestion: Make your way to the landing area if injured, fleshhaver." The feminine robotic voice had no tone or inflection to it, as it began to walk away from Mordred.

 

[Katelyn Feanor]

Post Count: 1/20
Objective: A
Allies: [member=Mordred], @AL-01, [member=BG-4463], [member="Greifen Ren"], First Order
Enemies: Resistance



Voices of the Resistance sounded out in pure panic and terror as the striking visage of the First Order's Fleet came through the cloud's. Breaking the clouds apart as if the ships were that of a combined spearhead, bursting through a wet piece of paper, utterly annihilating it. The Hanger bays of the Cruisers opened up to reveal large groups of transports followed by wave after wave of bombers and fights. All of this was from a combined effort, to cleanse Skye of it's filthy Resistance Fighters once and for all, and finally to bring law and order to Skye where the Resistance just brought mindless Terror attacks like the filthy terrorists they were.

A Silver Shuttle suddenly zipped out through the opened hanger bay of one of the massive Cruisers. The Silver shuttle had weak if no defense or offensive armaments, leaving it open to attack. Though, what it lacked in firepower, it made up in speed. The Silver Shuttle darted through the sky, nearly avoiding AAT Firepower as it did so each time. Each spread of bullets and artillery shells did little to harm the shuttle as it quickly dodged the blasts. The Silver Shuttle had extended wings upon each side that extended a total of fifteen feet from the shuttle on either side. While on the top of the shuttle, was a singular standing wing raising upwards into the sky. These very wings, allowed the shuttle to be more aerodynamic and harder to hit but also harder to navigate as it was hard to guess the exact width of the wings.

Fanus would've gone with the other troopers but he wasn't prepared at the time and, well, missed his opportunity so he was forced to take a clumsy out-of-date shuttle that was, for some reason, still in use. But, Fanus focused on the positives, at least this thing won't collapse on me for the most part, well I hope it won't. Fanus was sitting upon a blank white seat, his hands resting upon his knees while his neck and eyes were moving about, watching the stormtroopers in the shuttle with him as they were, for some reason, assigned to him which he hated. Ughh, troopers are dumb, they shoot, sometimes they hit or miss and then they get in your way. This is why I prefer to work alone, though, it is nice to have the company just sometimes they piss you off.

The shuttle let off a short series of bumps as it extended it's landing gears. Fanus stood up in response, his right hand fiddling with the lightsaber upon his hilt. His eyes were focused but his mind was elsewhere, this was his first actual fight and he was nervous to say the least. Am I going to die here? Bleeding out upon the ground? In the same position as my parents when they died from that disease? No, No, calm down Fanus just count down, that's what your doctor say. Just count down from 5 and everything will be fine.

5
.
4
.
3
.
2
.
1

Suddenly and Abruptly, the thump of the landing ramp sounded and the doors open as the troopers stood up in unison and did a type of march run out through the now open door; Leaving Fanus standing their alone. Fanus's mind finally came back to it's objective and he grabbed the lightsaber from his belt and walked out the door. The click of a button was all it took for the orange blade to extend outwards from his body. Not the typical red, but orange more reflected Fanus's personality, more neutral, in the way you had to know both the darkside and lightside but also in which he was morally neutral to things. Like any Sane Human, he would react to situation accordingly, which is what his lightsaber showed in it's color.

Fanus's Hazel eyes looked through the slits in his mask just as a laser from a blaster came rushing towards him. He reacted quickly, bringing the lightsaber to a diagonal position in front of his body, causing the laser to be deflected back towards it's target. Which caught the target in it's abdomen and part of the neck, burning the windpipe and burning a good few nerves causing the rebel soldier to fall to the ground like a wilted flower.

 

[Razelle Breuner]

Objective: A
Allies: 501st, [member="Ricochet"] | [member="BG-4463"] | [member="AI-01"]
Post: 1/20

Finally. It had been nice hanging out in a room too small and full of men twice her size with no personality, but Razelle had started to ache for action. White armor and squeaky boots, tibanna residue and sweat...the inside of that transport had been heaven. The combat zone outside of it wasn't so much heaven as comfortably familiar. When presented with an objective to take, an enemy to fight, Razelle knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't hesitate, or fret, or overanalyze. Her hyperawareness didn't fill her senses with extraneous information, because there was no extraneous information in a combat zone. This was the perfect place for her to let loose, and more importantly, the perfect place for her to find purpose.

To run from her problems by refusing to run.

At the moment, her purpose was covering fire for her CO. IFF tags moved into position around her, with some holding back with the gunners as they set up positions, others establishing a forward ground to buffer incoming enemy fire. Razelle found herself in the latter category. Highland grass and rocky outcroppings made cover plentiful, but she quickly witnessed just how effective it would be against the flying Sky'tri defenders. "Overwatch" was quite literally watching over their heads this time, and Raz braced the butt of her rifle to her shoulder to stabilize and scan the skies for enemies as the 501st established its zone of control.

The infantry, as usual, absorbed the brunt of the immediate counterattack immediately after landing. White armor protected against ballistic weapons, but cracked against more powerful attacks. It dispersed blaster bolts, but only enough to turn a rifle shot into a nonlethal hit. Prevent casualties, rather than keep a trooper fighting. Fortunately, Razelle hadn't been with the unit long enough to form many connections. The dozens of her allies who fell to the firestorm of enemy blaster bolts made very little difference to her. As long as the guns were kept defended...

A fireteam of three had flown over the frontline and prepared to hit one of the guns. Razelle leveled her rifle and let loose a torrent of bolts, four sets of carefully-controlled four-shot bursts, leading her target a bit more each time. The third finally caught her target in the shoulder, sending its fragile avian body spinning into a bone-breaking spin as fatal burns scourged through its skin. Fire from another one of her allies took down a second...and the third made a dive to land.

As she charged back to defend the gunner, Raz laid out a full autofire spray with the hope that one of the wide-spread shots would find purchase. Fortunately, one had, clipping a wing and sending the Sky'tri soldier plummeting from a non-lethal height. CG-2118 arrived shortly after it had hit the ground...and it was already on its feet. Blaster leveled...Razelle closed quickly and drove her palm into the barrel of the blaster rifle, then bent her arm and smashed her elbow into the alien's throat. Duraplast hurt like hell when it connected at ballistic velocity, a fact that the enemy was quickly reminded of when her knee collided with its ribs. One quick cracking sound and Razelle backed up, firing one shot into its head as it recoiled.

"Clear!" She barked quickly.

"Firing!" Came the response from the gunner whose life she'd just saved. Deep and masculine, to go with his broad shoulders. Soon a torrent of red bolts screamed out from over her head as Razelle took cover. In the distance, she could still make out the gleams of lightsabers as the small party of self-absorbed Force demigods decided to act like one-man platoons. As usual, the stormie rolled her eyes and paid them no mind. Their objective and the infantry objective were incomparable.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Objective C
Post 1/20
Allies: [member="Veer Gravois"] | [member="Finn Dexrin"]

The office of the Magister of Skye was not a particularly imposing office, despite the obvious best intentions of the occupant of the office. It seemed rather quaint to Natasi Fortan, who stood, ramrod straight, across the desk from the Magister himself. It might have worked on the locals, but Natasi had been intimidated by the best of them, so it phased her not at all. In fact, it seemed that the Magister looked a little intimidated by Natasi herself. And that was with good reason; she was dressed in a black uniform, her dark brown hair pulled back into a severe bun, a sidearm at her hip.

"Please make yourself comfortable," the Magister said anxiously, nearly knocking over a decorative sculpture of some deity or another over in his gesture for her to take a seat. "Can I offer you refreshment?"

"No, to both," Natasi intoned gravely."I won't be here long. I've just come to offer the greetings of the First Order and to welcome you to our great Imperial family."

"I'm not sure... what do you mean?" the Magister asked, cocking his head quizzically. "We haven't joined any... family or anything."

Natasi paused. "The First Order is liberating Skye, Magister. Liberating it from the decadence and disorder that comes with existing outside our fold. I will give you the choice -- I have no intention of forcing your hand, heavens no -- of whether you choose to join us in bringing order to Skye or not. But you cannot hope to impede our progress."

"Miss Fortan --"

"It's Governor, actually."

"Governor Fortan, then," the Magister said, shuffling through some papers on his desk anxiously. "This is highly irregular --"

"The First Order is revolutionizing the way things are done in the galaxy, Magister, and this is your opportunity to get in on the ground floor. Also, I won't have to vaporize this building from orbit." The Magister gaped and Natasi favored him with a chilly smile. "That's a joke. We don't have the technology to vaporize only one building from orbit -- yet. But the point is you have a chance here."

"What would I have to do?" the Magister asked, folding his hands in front of him.

"For now? You will cede control of the planetary government to me for the duration of the transition and provide your cooperation in pursuing our agenda. If you prove your loyalty to the First Order during the transition, you will have earned yourself a seat at the table. If you refuse, or if you fail, well... " She lofted her eyebrows and let her voice trail off.

"This is highly irregular, Governor. You must give me some time to think about it."

"I'm sorry, but that is quite impossible." She keyed her communicator on and raised it to her lips. "You may begin your quarantine procedures. The civilian population must not be harmed, but do what you must with anyone who uses force against our troops." Natasi glanced over at the Magister, who had begun to splutter in protest, but continued to speak into her communicator. "If you can detain them, do so. We will make an example of them. Keep me posted."

"Governor! You cannot simply --"

"If we're going to be working together, Magister, you will need to learn that I do not like being told what I can and cannot do. Now, I think it's time you made your choice."

 

[Elani Zambrano]

Obj D - Acquire the HVT
Allies: Secret Agents of the FO
Post 1/20

Azure slowly and carefully walked down the dimly lit hall leading to her target. She was on a mission to find a HVT: Kirik Ahteen. He's was s smuggler and FO intelligence needed him for their own purposes. It was not in her nature to question authority so she just accepted the mission. She was armed with 2 R-1s. It was all she needed for this. As she approached the door, her hands gripped the pistols tightly as she held them behind her back.

 

[Krayn]

Objective: D
Locate the and remove the S’kytri Patriarch and Supreme Council
Post 02/20

A few more hours of tracking had come up with nothing. Belis’ frustration flaring at the realisation that the Resistance had managed to foresee the First Orders attack and evacuate the Supreme Council so quickly. Fortunetly they hadn’t had the thought of moving the Governmental Magister out of the city, which meant that at least Governor @Natasi Fotan had the means to initiate the quarantine of the S’kytri people, a necessary step on their path to the planets control.

Up ahead of the Ren’s advance the terrain started to get more mountainous, high peaks dominating the distance and a tree line threatened to take the wide open spaces into claustrophobic forests. It was into these forests that he knew they would have fled, the last location any person would expect a winged beast to hide, under the trees.

As the trees began to take over the swirling wind that had been a constant on the tundra faded and left an eery silence in its wake that almost seemed to make the forest appear devoid of life itself. Yet life was here, Belis could feel it. A clearing up ahead called to him, his curiosity trusting the dark side of the Force as it told him where to find what it desired.

The clearing was little more than a patch of soil, turned up by the removal of several large trees. The corpses of which were led across the ground in various states of intact majesty. Thick moss grew on one, while another showed fresh signs of workmanship by an axe. It was atop this one that the blue skinned S’kytri was sat, his large wings cast over his muscular body like a cape. Deep green eyes turning upwards to meet Belis as he entered the thicket.

“You took your time.” The alien said, not moving from his seat. “Perhaps Master Inglo was wrong about you.”

Belis cared not for the words of the S’kytri but it had been a long journey so far and the chance to rest and allow his muscles to calm was a welcome thought. He moved within the apparent arena of the fallen trees and moved to rest against one of the larger fallen logs.

“You are?” Belis tried to get a read from the man’s face, but it was hard to see through the ornate jewellery that covered his features. “You seem familiar.”

“Arargar. Coucillar to the southern lands and holder of the right seat to the Supreme Council.” He spoke with pride as he listed his title. “You must be the hound on our tails. Very resilient of you to have come this far—“ He glanced behind Belis as if looking for something. “On foot.”

“You grew tired of running? Or just decided you’d rather talk this through?” Belis stretched out his shoulder, a painful knot appearing at the base of his neck.

“I was advised by Master Inglo to remain to the plan, however we S’kytri are great warriors. Running made me feel weak. I wanted to see this great threat that scared everyone so much.” Arargar lowered himself from the log he was sat upon and stretched himself out to his full height, which was impressive, yet nothing compared to the wingspan of his great blue feathered appendages, “Now I have seen you I realise that all this fear was for nothing, you are just a masked man, strong but incapable of beating me I assure you.” Against the log a spear was drawn, Arargar spinning it around in his hands like a baton at a military parade. “I will destroy you, the threat you apparently create and use it as lineage to take the seat of Patriarch.”

“You have thought this out.” Belis smiled beneath his helmet. “However you can’t win against me.” He stood up himself yet did not reach for his lightsaber. “You will understand that. Not now, but later you will.”

“I like someone with a backbone.” Arargar seemed to have a spark in his eyes as he sized up the robed warrior in-front of him. “This shall be fun.”

The S’kytri rushed forward at Ren, his spear cleaving through the air where moments before Belis had been stood. The Ex-Jedi having rolled away at the last moment before rising and sending a fist across the charging warriors face. Again the spear missed his body, only passing air as Belis managed to turn to his body to the side with a backwards step and a shift of his weight.
In response he pulled up his fist and connected it into the ribcage of Arargar who retreated backwards in hastened steps grunting as he did.

“Draw your weapon.” He snarled towards Belis who merely straightened his back and paced near his area by the fallen tree. “Stop playing and draw your weapon!”

“You don’t want me to draw my weapon.” The Knight said. “It will only hasten your death.”

Arargar spat out a ball of clem and spit before again rushing at the hunter before him. “You will die here, not me.”

The form of Arargar came through the air, lifted higher by one mighty beat of his wings. his arm plunged the spear downwards, changing his angle at the last minute before shifting his attack to come in from the side using the spear as a whip. The blow made it passed the defences of the Ren and hit him true across the top of his thigh, ripping through his robes and the flesh of his leg. Blood splattered across the ground as Arargar flipped his spear and turned back to face Belis whose hand had moved to his leg.

“As I said, you will be the one who dies here.” Arargar leant on his spear allowing the Knight to gain his ground and look back towards the S’kytri. “Are you ready to continue?”

Belis reached for his belt and pulled his lightsaber away from it, the ignition was hit and the blade, crimson in colour sprang to life with a roar of energy. The hum was angry, infuriated with the situation at last.

Arargar may have not shown any hesitation in his face, but his lack of immediate charge told of his feelings. The S’kytri warrior closed the distance faster than he had before his weapon coming down on the Knight with every intention on piercing his heart and ending this fight. Belis however had other ideas, his lightsaber rose and cut through the shaft of the spear, his other hand rose and fell with the power of the force pulling Arargar to the ground where he was dragged through the dirt like a rider fallen from his horse. The lightsaber swung back around and cut through the flesh of the downed warrior, emitting a scream of pain as both right wing and arm separated from his body.

“MY WING! MY WING!” He yelled, rolling in the dirt like the wounded creature he was. “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM! You will pay for this!”

Belis disengaged the saber and limped over to where Arargar was led on the ground breathing harshly. His foot pressed down hard on the injured shoulder of the S’kytri councillor who tried to yell out but couldn’t get his voice out.

“Now you will tell me where the Supreme Patriarch is hidden.” He lowered his form down towards the pained face of Arargar who was cursing beneath his breath. “Tell me.”

“I won’t tell you anything dog.” The resolute reply was given through the pain, through all of the threat. Yet it didn’t bother Belis, he could get what he wanted one way or another.

“You will tell me. If you want to or not.” His gloved hand moved down to rest next to Arargar’s temple, opening up to reveal his palm. He would pry the information from the mind of the S’kytri himself. The force flowed through his palm, entering the mind of the warrior, claiming his thoughts for his own. Visions of the mountains flooded through, a small hut and finally a peak side citadel in the clouds. Two faces, both S’kytri looked on with concern as a third, a young Nikto sealed doors and shouted warning at the dace of Arargar. The clouds came again and finally Belis saw himself.

He removed his palm and his link to the force looking up the wounded Arargar again, the expression back was blank and distant. His mind had been broken, wounded forever. There was no point to him living on.

The mountain awaited as Belis carried forward, the dead left to rot in the forest now headless thanks to the blade of his lightsaber. The wound in his leg compressed by a rag and the force. He had a long climb ahead of him.

 

[Disciple]

Objective: A
Post [3/20]
[member="Razelle Breuner"] [member="Greifen Ren"]

BG didn't move fully behind the bunker, even as his armor clad compatriots clambered up and around the now smoking battleground. There was no salute, no deferential air to the soldier as he responded. His tone was sharp, crisp, and lacked any hint of nonsense. Despite the Knight of Ren wielding a saber, it had been drilled into him that you didn't salute a superior in the field - even though most of them stood out, you just didn't do it. It meant removing your hands from your weapons.

"BG-4463." He didn't say 'White Wolves,' as the Knight knew who he'd dropped with. "I will serve at your pleasure." There was some muted mumblings and the squad reformed, the seven other soldiers coming up around him so they could get to work supporting the Knight in his endeavors.

 

[Darth Metus]

Objective: D - Protect the Council
Allies: None
Enemies: [member="Belis Ren"]
Count: 1/20

Winter.

It mattered not where in the Galaxy a soul resided, for the season still occurred all the same. Perpetual laps about a burning, celestial body would result in an apex: a journey to the furthest point away. In the wake of departing from the warmth of their local star, a harsh chill befalls all worlds. Despite the presence of light in the heavens above, changes soon occur below. Ice. Sleet. Snow. The very winds deviate from being a source of refreshment to being one of torment.

Such was the sort of landscape that Josiah found himself in. A winter "wonderland" known as Skye. The former, Jedi Master had made the voyage to the far-flung world in search of something specific. Well, someone rather. It was no secret that the time of the Fringe Confederation had concluded...and that in of itself was a cause for concern. That nation, however "tolerant" it was of darker individuals, provided shelter and stability to the Unknown Regions. What's more, it was one of the few places that Josiah could reliably find his next of kin.

But when the Fringe dissolved, it seemed that Ashin went into the darkness with it. The Exile sincerely doubted that she perished in whatever fallout had seized the nation; but rather believed that she didn't want to be found at this moment. Maybe there were a select few who held the keys to finding her, but Josiah damn sure was not amongst them. What he did have was a rather sticky situation on his hands. His search had led him to Skye: a last-ditch hope on finding the woman he was looking for. Perhaps there was a trail to find in former Fringe territory?

That was the hope anyway, but all Josiah found were distressed natives. The dissolution of the Fringe had left them defenseless: and now nations were on the move. Nations like the one who brought Star Destroyers knocking on the world's front door. Now, some people would take this as a sign to "nope" the kark out of there and leave the natives to their fate. But, Josiah wasn't that kind of man. He was the sort of man who stayed and took a stand. So, as the Destroyers belched forth a horde of vessels towards the planet's surface, Josiah set about assisting in the evacuation of the Supreme Council.

And their final destination? A hut. A humble structure atop a spire.

Josiah stood there, brooding before the flames which warmed those present. Right now the situation was far from ideal. Sure, the natives were a warrior culture, but the invaders had the advantage of superior firepower. Hell, if the ground operation went south they could ultimately glass Skye into the next century. So what were the options? Call for help? The Alliance maybe? No. They wouldn't arrive in time. A sigh passed through chilled lips as the Exile continued to think. However, he was about to get some more bad news.

"Master Denko! The scouts send word, we've been found!"

The words were frantically screeched from a native who came bursting through the door. She then came to a halt before the hooded Exile, continuing on.

"They kept watch after Arargar went off and saw him confront the invader. Arargar...He fell...And now the invader approaches. He's alone, but there's no telling how many will appear to aide him!"

"Kark." swore the Exile before urgency gripped his tone. "We don't have a lot of time then. Everyone, continue down the far side of the mountain. I'll buy you as much breathing room as I can." His dominant hand tugged free his lightsaber whilst brisk steps bore him to the door. "May the Force be with you all."

And then, Josiah was in the thick of the cold. His boots crunched quickly through the snow whilst his eyes squinted against the white. Knowing the way taken down, the Exile simply followed the trail back...until something stuck out like a sore thumb. Black clothes against a snow-covered ground. A deep breath was drawn, both to settle his raging heart and to center his focus, before words were spoken.

"Leave this place. Allow Skye to return to its peace..." Snap. Hiss. A blade of storm blue surged into being. "And you will continue to live."

Spoiler

OOC: Using this as Josiah/Herodias' IC entrance into the First Order. Let's have a ball with it, yeah?