Obroa-Skai's Open Terrain

Obroa-Skai City
Population : Approximately ten million
Military Forces : Very Light
1 KDY W-165 Planetary Turbolaser
24 Starfighters
2 NPC Generals (Colonel Trifel, Captain Fey'lya)
1000 Troopers (Standard)
200 Canderous-class Assault Tanks
500 Speeder Bikes

Obroa-Skai's main city was known by many names, Obroa, The Old City, Librarius Maximus (by Kaine Australis), and various names in ancient and much forgotten Obroan dialects. Populated by both Obroans and the usual mix of humans and aliens, the city was the only settlement of note on the Library World. Though its original construction was back in ancient times, the city had many of the trappings of modern civilization.

Overlooking dry valleys, the city sits upon a high hill, which seems almost a monolith when viewed from a distance, as millennia of settlement has transformed the city from a hilltop fortification to a wide mesa surrounded by high walls, containing and sheltering the mostly low buildings of the city within. The city has a government tower, a spaceport at the northern end, as well as the usual maintenance and utilities services, while markets, cantinas, and other businesses make up a market district in the eastern side. The western part of the city is given over to the libraries, data havens, and information brokerage services. South of the city is the residential sector, which has towers of apartments that rise not into the sky but sink beneath the ground.

The city's anti-aircraft defenses are centered around the government tower. At the base of the tower is the parliament building and the planet's Senatorial office. Further out are police and other law enforcement facilities which share space with government administrators that don't rate offices and headquarters within the tower itself. A military garrison is located between the government tower and the spaceport, overlooking landing fields. Here also are the city's defensive emplacements, including one operational surface-to-space turbolaser. Obroa's traffic control operations are also run from the spaceport.

On the ground the average citizen has open wide avenues between the buildings, and even during busy times, large crowds are able to move easily to their chosen destinations. Landmarks are easily spotted due to the lowrise construction that is the only uniform trait of the city's buildings. They come in all shapes and sizes, many extending underground, while the city's ancient walls tower above everything. The intricate and thick stone walls that surround the city proper are a fascinating relic of a bygone era, and are a tourist attraction rather than a defensive emplacement.

All this was under the military command of Colonel Iris Trifel, who had specialized in armoured warfare, and ended up promoted and given command of a garrison with little chance of seeing any action. She was responsible for protecting the people of Obroa-Skai, and she knew she didn't have anywhere near the people and resources she needed. That said, she made the most of whatever she could get her Cathar claws into, and what she couldn't get, her second, Captain Fey'lya, could. Bothans were natural scroungers, and he could find equipment and parts when procurement could not, which kept the Obroan military forces from rusting away to nothing.

Colonel Trifel was watching the holodisplay as the Serroco moved in to deal with the pirate marauder. Then she saw a huge ship appear between the battle and the planet, and it was moving ominously into a bombardment position. Next the systems began to go to osik, as static and junk code splashed across all the screens. She fumed, and turned for an explanation. "It's come in through the HoloNET, its across all our systems!" Sithspit, that was not good. She came to her feet and moved to the door. The time for watching was over, she had a city to protect.

In the barracks were about thirty troopers, as their CO burst in with a cadre of officers, her face grim. "I hope you all remember your lights out training, because we are lights out and under a planetary invasion." She let that sink in before bowling over any exclamations or objections. "Squad one, you get to the shield generator and get that city shield up. Squad two, you get to the planetary turbolaser and get it firing. Everyone else, get into the city, and get the alert out. Reservists to depots, civilians to the shelters. If the damn alarms aren't working, fire your blasters into the air. Get it done. NOW!" The room emptied in a handful of heartbeats. With no tech that could be relied upon, the defenders would do without. They had all been trained how to function without comms and without technology. Now, they would get to test that training in the real world.

Colonel Trifel, now accompanied by a pair of bodyguard troopers in full armor, moved out of the base and into the forecourt, where vehicle crews were prepping the tanks and speeders the garrison forces would have access to. Many of the tank and speeder crews were off duty and would need time to arrive. It was her job to ensure they had gear and vehicles ready when they arrived. She would not be taking shelter in a bunker or command complex, not when she couldn't do her job from there. This battle, she would share the risk and the danger with her people. Grimly, she hoped the two squads got the shields and weapons online in time. Whoever had planned this had taken down all of their comms and command and control in a single strike. She hoped someone had gotten a distress call out, that was likewise beyond her capabilities now.

(I accidentally deleted the post and lost the formatting )

The alert was beginning to go out, over the roar of engines, of speeder bikes and tanks warming up, Colonel Trifel could hear distant sirens. Her XO, the Bothan Captain Fey'lya, was shouting orders from the turret of his command tank, marshalling the reservists as they made their way to the base. Comms had been restored among the militia, and she could keep in touch with the units now being dispersed throughout the city.

Across down at the shield generator, the first squad had found the operators clueless as to the situation. Upon being given the alert, and hurried up by heavily armed and very agitated troopers, the operators quickly got to work and raised the city's defensive shield. Tanks and speeder bikes were moving through the city now, getting into position, and ensuring civilians cleared the streets and got to shelters.

The second squad took longer to secure the planetary turbolaser. The crew had been clueless as to the situation, but here the systems had been compromised by the HoloNET virus. The squad reported back to the Colonel that the weapon was operational, as were the power systems, but that the targeting systems were useless. "We can shoot, but we'll have to aim manually." Colonel Trifel was less than merciful. "There's a giant kriffing ship about to bombard the city. See if you can manage to hit it. Get that gun into action." She commed off.

By now, the streets were beginning to clear of civilians. Captain Fey'lya would command the defense of the city from his command tank while Colonel Trifel was in overall command from the military base. The garrison forces were being dispersed, some to anti air guns, some to secure the civilians, while the tanks spread out through the city to provide fire support to the militia.

Iris Trifel was an experienced commamnder, doing the best with what forces she had available, she knew she had little to no reserve. One starfighter squadron, which she could use once her pilots had all arrived. One squadron of droidbombers which would likewise give her a limited striking punch. Colonel Trifel planned to withold those for use against enemy landing craft for maximum effect.

She had plenty of tanks and speeders, what she lacked were numbers. There were barely a thousand troopers to protect an entire city. She had about a third of that force at the base with her in reserve, the rest were either on their way in from off duty, or already deployed to the defence of the city. She hoped to Kad that the planet would be heavily reinforced soon, because otherwise, she was going to be in serious trouble.

Tadgh replies to Colonel Trifle tersely once she has given her orders, Acknowledged. Oya manda!  Looking over at Conaodh after ending the transmission, he grins beneath his helmet, Well, you heard her, vi slanar muun'bajir. *

Conaodh, nods and then pauses as the holo transmission from the enemy plays out. Once the transmission has concluded, Conaodh, seeking refuge in humor, asks, ::Does the Eye see us when we're sleeping, and know when we're awake?::

Tadgh, chuckling as Conaodh takes their Kom'rk up and rotates the fighters wings into their horizontal position, replies in the same spirit, Probably knows if we've been good or bad too.

Conaodh, keeping the Muun Orar low and sticking behind the mountains for now to minimize the chances they'll be spotted before intercepting and attacking the oncoming enemy forces, says, ::We'll stick behind the mountains for now, try and come around from behind the enemy after they pass, attack them from their six. I'll handle the forward laser cannons, you take the aft. We'll focus on trying to take out anything that they're looking to set down.::

Tadgh, nods, Got it. Knowing that Conaodh is not the best combat pilot, and is probably babbling to cover his apprehension, pats the Bimm's shoulder and says encouragingly, You've got this, vod. The city will probably be launching fighters, they'll help keep any support ships occupied while we make our first attack pass, after that, well, we'll worry about that later, right?

Conaodh nods repeatedly, piloting the Muun Orar to keep the mountains between them and the city as he watches his sensor and threat indicator screens for the enemy aerial forces to appear, ::Right, right. I wish Harini and Ksenia made it down before this went down,:: he mutters, their squadmates, the Muun Orar's usual pilot and co-pilot, far more capable and skilled than he or Tadgh are when it comes to starfighter combat. There is nothing to be gained in dwelling on that, however, so Conaodh focuses on doing his best to help the city stand against their foe.


* let's go kick butt

Conaodh has never liked flying very much, and does not imagine that this current bit of it he is about to do will do much to make him like it any more. There is, in Conaodh's opinion, just too much going on all at once, and so much needing to be paid attention to that might lead to an untimely fiery death if it isn't paid attention to soon enough, that he, on the whole, would much rather have both his feet on the ground.

::Olar val olaror,:: * Tadgh says as the enemy ships appear on their ship's sensor screens.

::Olar vi slanar,:: ** Conaodh replies, and is thrown back into the pilot's seat as he maxes out the Kom'rk's speed and gains altitude, emerging from behind the mountains as he begins turning to intercept the enemy ships and attack from their six.

Conaodh is pretty sure that he spends most of, if not the entirety of the next few minutes holding his breath and clenching his butt, on edge and expecting to die any moment as everything happens too fast and is scored by the roaring of their ship's engines, the slaps and splashes of laser fire against their shields, the sharp staccato thumping of their laser cannons, the braying of their threat indicator or chirruping of their laser cannons' targeting locks, and the occasional clapping explosions as things blow up around them

His attention focused on so many things - manuevering into position to fire on an enemy ship or its cargo, banking or climbing or diving to avoid enemy fire, keeping a wary eye on their shield's strength - Conaodh remembers only strobic flashes of their initial attack run: coming up behind what looks like some sort of tug and sticking to it's six while firing on it until it blows up in a satisfying orange and yellow cloud; banking to strafe the chute of an AT-TE to send it crashing to the ground; cringing as something briefly gets a lock on them and a hail of laser fire rains against their shield until he manages to bank and climb and escape; Tadgh yelling for him to stay steady so he can fire on a group of troopers with jet packs jumping from a big ship that starts pelting their shield as Tadgh fires on the troops and then, when Conaodh climbs and banks, sending some parting fire into the open bay the troops had dropped from.

Pulling away from the enemy ships and beginning a turn to come around for another pass, Conaodh takes a deep breath and unclenches his buttocks, silently thanking Kad Ha'rangir that he and the ship have survived so far.

Tadgh, who had taken out a Y-85 by meticulously firing on it each and every time Conaodh's manuevering brought it into the crosshairs of the aft facing laser cannons he manned, an AT-TE as it floated down with its chute deployed, and 3 SPHA-Ts either before they could be released or before they reached the ground, gives Conaodh a thumbs up and says, ::Nice work, vod. Shields holding at 70%. Take us back around and stay low, we'll hit whatever made it to the ground next.::

Conaodh nods and starts banking the Kom'rk to bring them around for another attack run, mentally preparing to hold his breath and white knuckle it again.



* Here they come
** Here we go

The city was under assault for true now, with the enemy having landed forces, including artillery which was already pounding away at the city shield. Though Colonel Trifel only had a partial picture of what she was facing thanks to the fog of war, what she saw troubled her greatly. She had no artillery to answer the enemy, and once the shield came down, that was going to cost lives. The fighters and bombers were doing all they could to keep the rain of death in check, but she could see how much gas and radiaton was hanging at the shield barrier, waiting to get in.

Down at the shield generator facility, the sergeant in charge was happy with the report that the shield was still holding up well. He didn't know, couldn't know about the Marauder. "Their pissant artillery isn't going to do much." He grinned. He could not have been more wrong. The sound of a huge detonation cracked across the city, from high above, accompanied by a shockwave that rattled transparisteel windows. The shield went down in moments, as the generator overloaded and exploded, turning it to slag, filling the building with smoke. More explosions sounded, much closer this time. "What the hell is that?" The sergeant asked. The corporal looked at him sourly through the haze, his voice cold. "Their pissant artillery, Sarge." The sergeant swore, and then led his squad out of the building, and into the battle. They were in it now.

The battle would be fought among the streets and buildings of Obroa-skai's capital, deserted of civilians, though doubtless some poor few hadn't made it to the shelters in time. Those few would now die from poison gas or radiation, only those in full armour had protection from the very air itself trying to kill them. Colonel Trifel didn't need to give the order for the anti aircraft defences to open up, guns and missiles blasted skyward as soon as the protective shield dropped. The turbolaser was yet in action, and would have some small cover, but it was now doomed to its fate. With their protection gone, the defenders of Obroa City were now in the firing line, as the enemy's aircraft and ground forces were unleashed on the city.

Friendly speeder bikes roared around, engaging light targets with their blasters, while tank units massed their fire at chokepoints ready to repel a ground advance. Everyone knew what was being asked of them, poor odds, outnumbered, and outgunned, they would still hold the line against the night. Up above, Amaranth saw the shield go down, though the Rancors were well clear of the explosion. She sent an impulse to her squadron encouraging them to attack, a feeling of release of pent up energy. As she did so, she brought her Cabur in on its attack run. All twelve bombers decloaked and made their drops, blasting two regular and four heavy munitions each into the enemy's ground forces. With luck, they'd wipe out a good chunk of the ground force before the enemy knew what hit them. As it turned out, though she got her bombs away, Amaranth's luck was short, and her bomber was the only one to take a hit, an unlucky shot that slammed into her craft, lighting up the warning board in a sea of yellow and red.

"Shit."

Actions

Ruined lungs sucked in a potent chemical mixture, channeled into a long beaked helm from two ribbed nozzles connected to a small tank hooked to the backplate of a sickly green hued set of modified radzone trooper armour. Filtered toxins bled in wisps of poison steam from grill slits along its length, tarnishing the metal of the cockpit controls and wilting the leather of the seats until it cracked and flaked, the foam inside quite literally rotting away to black residue. Jaundiced and bloodshot eyes bulged as they strained to look through the two filmy green goggle lenses of the helmet, peering at Obroa-Skai City ahead as the blue shield barrier he had spotted from a distance sputtered and died following a massive explosion against its surface. Belisarius let our a hearty cackle that resonated through the beaks tip as a wet rattle, ending in a full phlegmatic coughing fit then sent black lines of sputum dripping down his scarred chin. One armoured gauntlet was wrapped around the flight yoke of the YT-1300 he found himself in, the other gripped the throttle as he pressed the shifter forwards and pushed the engines to their full extent. The freighter leaped forwards, streaking towards the war zone as green fog fell from the sky and the transport's sensors flashed warning runes of severe radiological contamination.

"Festus!" Yelled the Reaper Prime, though his voice hissed from the beak of his helm as a tortured whisper. From beyond the cockpit entrance, the broken and cybernetically modified form of the Plague Lord's personal assistant appeared, lingering at the threshold. Practically split down the center from sutured scalp to crooked toes, the once human man was divided into equal parts machine and equal parts organic being. One half of the cyborg's face was locked in a metallic rictus grin, the other side a mess of drooping flesh covered in pus filled boils that threatened to burst at any second. Lurching forwards, the creature known as Festus Phageblight draped his cybernetic arm across his sunken chest and bowed. "You summoned me, your Flatulence?" Ooze seeped from the corner of the cyborg's droopy flesh lip on his organic side. He sucked it back up in a wet slurp as he waited for the Pestilential Prince to answer.

Belisarius stood and turned, relinquishing the controls for a moment and sending the YT-1300 hurtling towards the ground. The G-forces seemed to have no effect on the virologist as he pushed past his wretch of an assistant. "You have the controls, Festus. Get us the rest of the way to the library." It was all the Reaper Prime said as he exited the cockpit, wrapping his right gauntlet around the haft of his war-scythe 'Slake' as he stepped out into the hall. Nanogene spores swarmed over the surface of the long polearms sickle shaped blade, dripping the still trial-phase techno-virus onto the deck as he held it down at his side. Any of the microscopic bots that touched the tattered brown cloak he wore over his armour seemed to run off the soiled garment like scum. The three mechanical servo arms extending from the power unit attached to his backplate whirred and groaned, animate with sentience thanks to the droid brain installed in his protective life support shell.

Growling as he thrust his ruined body into the pilots seat, Festus manipulated the controls and pulled the freighter out of its dive, leveling the craft out as they entered range of the city. AA fire from the city's guns made it difficult to keep a steady bearing, as did the racing starfighters that streaked past, always directing a glancing barrage of laser cannon fire as they passed. He timed their arrival with the falling of the poisoned curtain, almost vanishing from physical sight as the thick layer of green trihexalon descended. The radiation would make it difficult to maintain a sensor lock, so they had that going for them at least. The cyborg assistant also had to jerk and jink on the controls every few moments as artillery fire looped down on its descending arc as the Reaper Prime's ground forces continued to hammer the city with shells. Even so, the transport managed to reach its destination with minimal damage. It already looked like a ruined piece of space junk thanks to the cosmetic alterations given to it prior to the assault. As the cloud of death descended over the city, the YT-1300 light freighter may have been visible hovering over the library building, floating on repulsors as its ramp opened in mid air.

The lone figure of Belisarius Vilebroth stood on the end, his right gauntlet holding the haft of Slake, the other gripping the ramp strut for support. He released his hold on the ship and reached his left hand down to a canister launcher holstered on his hip, wrapping his fingers around the handle as he smoothly drew it from its plastoid scabbard. THUNK! A canister ejected from the wide muzzle and struck the library roof, erupting in a black cloud at stark contrast with the luminescent green fog that shrouded the city. Snarling like a rakghoul through the grills of his mask, the Plague Lord leapt from the ramp, dropping to the library roof where he landed in a crouch within the dark miasma he had just created. It was an early variant of the techno-virus he was working on. Lethal, but not yet transformative.

Belisarius Vilebroth has entered the game.

---

"Switch to flechette rounds!" Roared a radiation zone trooper sergeant next to the artillery line as he watched the shield fizzle, crackle, and fall. The cannons continued to boom, but the rounds hurled were becoming less frequent and fewer between. Between the return fire from the city walls, strafing starfighter bombardment, and even fast streaking runs by enemy speeder bikes, the cannons were taking a severe beating. The SPHA-Ts, mostly ran silent when the shield fell, at least so far as their main turbolaser cannon was concerned. Anti-personnel blasters continued to drill anything in range, but they were basically stationary targets with how slow they moved. One by one they were blasted, erupted in great gouts of fire as their ammunition stores were engulfed in flame and cooked, then exploded in showers of metal shrapnel that rained down on the troopers guarding them.


All across the trench lines, gunmetal grey suits of modified hazard trooper armour surged from the ground and charged towards the city. Light repeating blasters held in their heavy platted hands flared at the muzzle as flashes of blaster fire screeched from steaming barrels. The T-21s could cut through armour when properly concentrated. Others lobbed canisters of corrosive chemical from their grenade launchers at enemy tanks, that is, when they weren't been mulched by return fire that made some troopers simply disappear in a red mist. The radiation zone troopers faired even worse, as their armour lacked the capacity to shrug off damage in the same manner the GraveScythes could. They fell in droves as they charged behind the heavier armoured line, firing scattered blasts from the radiation shielded blaster carbines in their grip.

The assault began to move forward in earnest, only to be staggered and stalled at every turn. An AT-TE that made it across the trench line and had previously been firing arcing rounds into the city wall, exploded as fire was concentrated on its armoured hull. Radzone troopers were forced to drop to the ground and dive for cover as a Kom'rk streaked overhead, blasting the AV-7s they had been guarding to flaming wrecks.

Dantioc Soulscourge snarled in fury as his fellow GraveScythe dropped beside him as they pushed forward at the front, his comrades helm a smoking crater that vented black smoke and bled boiling crimson. His respirator purred as he sucked in a ragged breath, then growled into the built in communicator in his mask as the ground crunched liked gravel underfoot. Subprime Soulscourge to the Excruciator. We need reinforcements! I repeat, we need reinforcements! His armour was pelted with stones as a enemy speeder bike whipped past and strafed the line with blaster bolts, one clipping his shoulder pauldron and carving a glowing furrow across its surface that sent the Subprime spinning. He dropped to a knee as he steadied himself. Ground assault force is taking heavy casualties. The city's defenders have rallied. We're barely holding the line. As if on cue, the trench behind the foreword line was lit up, spewing gouts of fire and forcing those still within to desperately try to climb out even as their armour melted into their flesh.

It was made all the worse when the enemy bombers of Rancor Squadron decloaked and dropped their loads. Mortality runes flashed across the Subprime's HUD display as his forces were depleted. The only chance any of them had was to make it into the city. There, between the buildings and high walls, they could at least find some form of shelter. Emerging from a cloud of napalm, Dantioc led the charge forwards, bending down mid run to scoop up a flag someone further ahead had been carrying before being added to the corpse tally. The dark fabric was stained with blood and pock marked with burns, but the All-Seeing Eye it depicted was still visible through the damage. He waved the flag back and forth above his head, rallying those around him to join his mad forwards dash. Any surviving SPHA-Ts, focus on the wall! There were few enough remaining at this point capable of responding. Three crackling blue beams lanced towards the high duracrete barrier that encircled the capital, then shortly after became two as a TIE Bomber was struck from the air and careened into the self propelled artillery, bringing the number down by a third.

---

A feral hunger possessed the gleaming black Shadow Droids of Desolation Squadron as they shrieked overhead. When the bombers of Rancor Squadron had decloaked, the lobotomized brain of the squadron leader growled in binary, drawing the focus of all the other furious cybernetic amalgamations of grey tissue and machine. They knew what had incensed them now and it only increased their appetite for blood and death. They streaked towards the bombers of Rancor Squadron, hurling curses over the comms.


That lucky shot on Amaranth's bomber? It had come from the tortured brain controlling the lead Shadow Droid. It split off from the rest of the squadron as they continued their pursuit of the other members of Rancor Squadron. The leader, lets call him Z01, had eyes...or sensors, only for Amaranth's ship. Its engines screeched as it flew after her, firing low powered blasts from its repeating blaster cannon at her rear, playing with its prey rather than using its heavier armament.