Objective One: Run through the jungle
Tag:
Yuri Maji
, OPEN
Laphistos Gear
Armor
LO-58A
Weapons
LO-20D,
LO-52R,
LO-22S,
Broad Saber
Lilaste order Soldier gear
Armor
LO-58A
Weapons.
LO-52R ,
LO-20D,
LO-22S,
LO-10M
Laphisto had been on a neighboring island with
Diarch Rellik
when the first reports began to filter through open channels. At the time, their attention was focused elsewhere, on delivering food, medical supplies, and emergency provisions to a nearby city that had been quietly abandoned by its planetary government. The work was slow, deliberate, and necessary, carried out far from the front lines and far from any place the holofeeds would bother to record.
The settlement had been left to fend for itself. Its population consisted largely of villagers, displaced families, and political exiles who no longer served a purpose within the planetary structure. There were no garrisons, no active relief programs, and no meaningful signs of state presence beyond neglected infrastructure and hollow administrative claims. Lines formed in silence as supplies were distributed, not out of order, but out of habit, the kind learned when survival depends on patience rather than expectation.
Laphisto did not know the full political reasoning that had led to their abandonment. He did not know which accords had been broken, which strategic priorities had shifted, or which interests had been deemed more valuable than these lives. What he understood was the result. These people, and hundreds of thousands like them across the world, were left to suffer while the planetary elite remained insulated, their prosperity sustained by systems that thrived on neglect and distance from consequence.
It was in the midst of this effort, surrounded by relief crates and makeshift triage stations, that the first urgent transmissions from the beach began to cut through routine traffic. The reports were fragmented, overlapping, and increasingly dire. Artillery had begun striking Diarchy ground forces, and the tone of the calls made it clear that the situation was deteriorating rapidly. The contrast was immediate and impossible to ignore. Aid was being delivered by hand in one place while destruction was unfolding by design in another.
Laphisto understood that with the collapse of the Galactic Alliance, much of the Core and Mid Rim had been thrown into supply decline almost overnight. Trade routes fractured, aid convoys vanished, and entire worlds found themselves cut loose with little warning. Even so, that reality did not justify the actions now being taken. Not to him. Scarcity explained desperation, but it did not excuse the deliberate targeting of those already struggling to endure its consequences.
With one hand grasping the overhead rail, Laphisto leaned forward and briefly poked his head out through the open side door of the gunship. Below him, the ocean blurred into streaks of dark blue and white as the craft tore across the water at speed. The air was sharp and heavy with salt, the roar of engines vibrating through the hull and into his bones. His free hand moved with practiced ease, tapping against the side of his helmet as targeting data and battlefield feeds scrolled across his visor.
Another artillery barrage descended onto the beach ahead, plumes of sand and fire erupting along the shoreline where Damos Vakaro and his men were entrenched. The impacts were precise and unrelenting, each strike carving deeper into positions already under strain. Laphisto keyed into the channel without hesitation, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding below.
"
Damos, I was able to shift one company of troops from a nearby island. You have four gunships inbound, myself included, along with Diarch Rellik. We are approaching from the northeast and moving to reinforce your position now."
The transmission was brief and direct, meant to cut through the noise and leave no room for uncertainty. As the gunship pressed onward, Laphisto kept his gaze fixed on the shoreline ahead, already measuring distances and angles, already preparing for what waited beyond the next barrage.
As Laphisto spoke, he was not fully aware of the enemy's true disposition. Based on the fragmented reports and the limited intelligence available, he had assumed the opposition consisted of local forces entrenched on the far side of the island, irregulars attempting to contest the landing through conventional means. It was a reasonable conclusion, and a costly one. The moment the gunships committed to their landing run, that assumption collapsed.
Missiles and heavy anti-air fire erupted from the treeline without warning, streaks of fire and tracer rounds ripping upward through the air in a sudden, coordinated barrage. The first impacts struck almost simultaneously, the violence of it snapping the illusion of a routine insertion apart in an instant. Laphisto was thrown sideways as the gunship shuddered under a direct hit, the deck lurching beneath his Taloed feet as the pilot growled over the intercom and wrenched the craft into an evasive maneuver.
Warning tones screamed through the cabin as another volley passed close enough to rattle the hull. One of the side gunners reacted immediately, swinging the mounted LO-52R out from its secured position and opening fire into the forest below. The weapon roared to life, rounds chewing through foliage and earth in broad, suppressive arcs as the gunship fought to stabilize. It was not precision fire, but it was forceful, meant to buy seconds rather than claim targets.
A heavy thud echoed from the rear of the compartment, drawing Laphisto's attention sharply backward. Vraen slammed against the interior plating as the craft bucked, her mass shifting violently before she corrected herself. For a brief moment she stumbled, then her feet locked down with a solid clang as her maglocks engaged, anchoring her to the deck. The motion steadied her, though the frustration in her posture was unmistakable.
He had tried to leave her behind. When he had gone to board, he had found her already there, perched atop the gunship as if daring him to argue the point. She had refused to be separated from him, immovable in her insistence, and in the end he had relented. What was meant to be a routine insertion to halt an artillery strike had become something far more dangerous, and now she was committed alongside him, whether he liked it or not. As the gunship descended under fire, the reality of the situation set in with brutal clarity. This was not a scattered local resistance. This was a prepared kill zone.
With a sharp wince, Laphisto brought a hand up to his head, fingers pressing briefly against his helmet as he shook it once, then again, trying to clear the ringing disorientation that suddely hit him. He barely had time to draw another breath before the world detonated around him.
The explosion tore through the side of the gunship with catastrophic force. Where the side gunner had been moments earlier, there was now nothing but fire and open air, a jagged, flaming wound ripping through the hull. The right wing sheared away completely, vanishing in a spray of debris as the craft lost all remaining stability and began to spiral violently downward.
The interior dissolved into chaos. Bodies were hurled from the open breach before anyone had time to maglock their boots to the deck. The cabin spun end over end, gravity becoming meaningless as the gunship twisted through the air. Laphisto's grip on the overhead rail tightened until his knuckles ached, every muscle in his body locking as the pilot's voice broke over the comms.
"
Brace for impact!"
The warning barely finished before the gunship tore through the treeline. Metal screamed against wood as branches shattered and the hull was ripped open further by the impact. Then came the ground. The crash was brutal and final, a violent collision that drove the air from his lungs and swallowed the world in darkness.
Laphisto came back to consciousness with a low, pained growl rumbling from his chest. He tried to move and immediately realized he could not. Something heavy pinned him in place, pressing down across his torso and shoulders. His breath hitched as pain flared through his side, sharp and immediate.
Vraen.
The basilisk war droid lay sprawled over him, her mass shielding his body from the worst of the wreckage. A massive chunk of the gunship had punched clean through her armored frame, the jagged metal embedded deep within her chassis. The tip of it had continued just far enough to bite into his own armor, stopping short of anything vital. The conclusion was unavoidable. She had taken the impact meant for him.
With another wince, Laphisto turned his head as far as he could, surveying the shattered remains of the gunship and the broken forest around them. Smoke and fire curled upward through the trees, the air thick with the smell of burning fuel and scorched earth. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, he reached out through the Force and pushed.
Vraen's ruined frame shifted, then slid away from him with a heavy metallic scrape as he freed himself from beneath her. He lay there for a moment longer, gathering himself, the weight of what had just occurred settling in alongside the pain. This had not been a routine insertion. the agai whe is it.
A sharp cry of pain tore from Laphisto as the ruined mass of metal was pushed away from him. The movement sent fresh agony through his body, and he immediately felt the extent of the damage. His right leg had been crushed beneath the wreckage in the fall, flattened under several tons of fallen war droid and shattered hull plating. Even through reinforced armor, the injury was severe. He did not need to see it to understand that it was badly broken. Several tons of basilisk war droid would do that to anyone.
He drew in a strained breath, forcing himself to remain conscious as pain threatened to overwhelm him. It was then that he heard the sound of blaster fire nearby. One shot rang out, then another, and then another still, each one closer than the last. A slug thrower followed, its heavier report unmistakable. There were brief grunts after that, sharp and abrupt, and then silence. Someone was executing his men.
A low growl rose in Laphisto's chest as he turned his head, scanning the wreckage and smoke for anything he could use. His pistol lay crushed beneath his ruined leg, its frame twisted beyond any hope of function. The rifle he had carried was gone, torn free from its AASH mount during the crash and nowhere within reach. That left only one option. His saber.
Reaching down, he searched blindly with shaking fingers, patting across scorched earth and fragments of metal. For a moment, he could not find it. Then he heard the distinct whine of a blaster charging nearby. Laphisto looked up. He barely had time to register the figure emerging through the smoke. Broad-shouldered and steady, with a canine-shaped Mandalorian helmet angled slightly as it leveled its weapon at him. The blaster fired.
A sharp, searing pain burned into Laphisto's throat just beneath his jawline. The shot was precise, clean, and immediate. Old-fashioned Mandalorian accuracy. His breath caught as the strength left his body all at once, the world tilting as sensation rapidly faded. Laphisto fell backward, his head striking the ground with a dull thud. The sky above blurred, the sounds of the battlefield dimmed, and then the world went dark.
With a sharp intake of breath, Laphisto shook his head, a low growl escaping him as he forced himself back into the present. His lone ear twitched upright in reflex, and in the same instant a massive explosion rocked the gunship. The side gunner who had occupied the open mount moments earlier was simply gone, erased in a flash of fire and ruptured hull plating.
Laphisto reached out instinctively with the Force, bracing himself as the gunship lurched and began its spiraling descent. The sudden loss of control sent bodies slamming into restraints and bulkheads as alarms screamed through the cabin. He turned his gaze toward the rear of the craft, where Vraen and several soldiers were struggling to stabilize themselves amid the chaos.
With a sharp grunt of effort, Laphisto crushed and then tore the rear section of the gunship away from the main body. The metal screamed as it separated, the violent decompression ripping through the compartment. Vraen and several soldiers were pulled outward in the sudden rush of air before the remaining infantry managed to maglock their boots to the deck and hold fast. Opening the comms channel, Laphisto shouted over the roar of engines and tearing metal. "
Brace for impact!"
The warning came only moments before the gunship slammed into the treeline. The front of the craft plowed through branches and trunks, the impacts shuddering violently through the hull as they smashed downward into the earth. The wreck skidded across the ground, rolled once, and then pitched again.
Laphisto was thrown free of the wreckage with a sharp grunt as the force of the impact tore him loose. His wings snapped open instinctively, catching air just enough to slow his descent. He struck the ground hard and rolled several times before coming to a stop. Pushing himself upright, Laphisto lifted his head in time to watch the ruined gunship roll twice more before finally settling in the dirt, smoke and fire spilling from its broken frame as the forest around it burned.
Kicking himself forward, Laphisto raised his voice over the crackle of burning wreckage. "
Gunship One, sound off."
He moved toward the shattered hull, peering inside as the surviving soldiers slowly staggered to their feet. Some leaned against the twisted interior plating for balance, others checked one another for injuries as smoke curled through the broken frame. Laphisto counted them quickly and silently. Twenty-seven soldiers were still moving. The tension in his chest eased slightly as he released a measured breath of relief.
He opened a Diarchy-wide channel without delay. "
This is High Commander Laphisto. My gunship has been shot down. We are either behind enemy lines or just ahead of Diarchy positions. It is difficult to determine at this time. If anyone can locate the smoke from my crash site, attempt to pinpoint our position and relay it."
He closed the channel without waiting for a response and immediately turned back to the task at hand. The men moved with practiced efficiency, stripping the wreck for anything usable. Ammunition crates were pried loose, medical kits pulled free, and intact gear redistributed as quickly as possible. Laphisto glanced toward the cockpit as a soldier standing on top of itcaught his eye peering through through the cracked transparen before looking to him and giving a firm thumbs-up. With the help of another trooper, the soldier began working to remove the damaged cockpit glass so they could extract the pilots.
Laphisto shifted his attention to the exposed machine gun mount. Reaching up, he disengaged the locking clamps and pulled the
LO-52R free with a solid tug. He racked the action, checked the feed, and then unhooked the remaining belt from the ruined gunship. By his estimate, he had just under a hundred rounds left. It would have to be enough.
Turning back to the men, his voice carried calm authority despite the smoke and fire surrounding them. "
All right, mount up and move out. Keep your eyes up and your spacing tight. It will not take long for enemy forces to come searching for us, and we are not giving them easy targets." The survivors fell in without hesitation, leaving the burning wreck behind as they moved into the trees.
Gress D'ran
's pre-ranged artillery walkers, The Six Screaming Falcons, had opened fire on the beach. Diarchy forces had assumed it an erupting volcano at first, but now it's clear as day, as turbolaser fire turns wave swept sand into pillars of glass.
Zoro Igala
has set a trap for the Diarchy Fleet, and with the call for air support on the ground, the trap if sprung.
