Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165 
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jun 22, 2022 13:00:54 GMT -8
Harini, shaking her head after Vera suggests that they try and evacuate the city, points towards the atmospheric analysis displayed on her control board as she explains, That green gas over the city is dragon's breath, trihexalon. Any civvies that aren't in shelters by now are dar, * and they're safer in the shelters for now with the city under siege. Looking over at Galaar, who is the one currently in charge of the ship and those within it, Harini adds, Unless you think otherwise, of course. With the city's forces occupied with trying to repel the invading forces, and the miasma of deadly dragon's breath blanketing the city, Harini doesn't think attempting to evacuate the surviving civvies at this time is feasible or particularly necessary since they are probably far safer in the shelters than anywhere they might evacuate them to at the moment, but she's also aware of the fact that her perspective is limited by the fact that, as a simple member of a long-range recon patrol, she is not used to making those kinds of decisions, where Galaar is almost certainly used to doing so.
Ksenia, manning the lancer-class' triple laser turret, sends a field of traversing fire at the pair of enemy fighters that have begun pursuing them to make it more difficult for them to get a weapons lock, and then, when one of them breaks off and offers a tempting target, focuses her fire on it and, luckily anticipating how it will try to evade, watches it explode a moment later as it fails to maneuver out of the laser turret's steady, well-aimed fire.
* gone
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Conaodh and Tadgh, silent save for occasional terse exchanges to make one another aware of oncoming targets or the sudden appearance of threats, continue harrying the invading ground forces from above as they bring their Kom'rk around for another attack run. Conaodh sends withering rains of laser fire down on the remaining SPHA-T's that are focusing their fire on the city wall, seeing one explode before he has to bank and dive sharply to get out of the field of laser fire pattering against their starboard shields.
Tadgh, muttering as he sends some raking fire from the Muun Orar's aft laser cannons down towards the enemy troops led by a flag wielding kotir runi, * making sure to try and focus especially on the flag bearer since it might demoralize the enemy if they were to fall. Whether or not he hits the flag bearer, Tadgh doesn't know since a warning trill from his boards makes him glance away to see that their shields have fallen to 30%, and by the time he glances back Conaodh has maneuvered them onto another course and changed the targets available for him to fire at.
Breaking away after firing down on the enemy troops charging forwards towards the city, Conaodh, feeling perspiration dripping down his neck and back, takes his first deep breath in a while as he is watching his boards for threats as he begins bringing the Muun Orar back around for another attack run, telling Tadgh, ::Update Trifel on the enemy positions, have her let her people in the city know where to expect those enemy ground forces we saw to hit them from.::
Tadgh, grunting an affirmative and scowling as he tries to remember how to redirect power from unessential systems to their shields since he and Conaodh are not the Muun Orar's usual pilots and neither are used to operating the ship in combat, opens a secure comm channel to Trifel and starts relaying coordinates to her so that she can better direct the city's defenses.
* brave soul
|
|
Belisarius Vilebroth
Member
Preparing to infect a world near you.
Posts: 65
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Belisarius Vilebroth on Jun 23, 2022 7:05:46 GMT -8
On the far end of the roof was a door, presumably connected to a stairwell running the length of the building, or at the very least to the floor directly below. That path was a bit too indirect for the virologist's liking. Lowering the sickle head of Slake to the roof floor, Belisarius began to turn, dragging the alchemically enhanced blade in a fast spinning circle. Completing a full 360 degree rotation, a layer of nanogene spore coated the circular furrow in the roof the Sith had carved. Instantaneously the nanobots began to eat away at the duracrete, devouring everything they came into contact with like a fast acting acid. The ground gave way in a perfect circle and fell into the hole, dropping the self proclaimed Plague Lord with it. As he fell, his beaked helm turned towards the sky, his green lenses filtering the light. To his surprise, he saw what looked like an armoured Mandalorian falling towards him. 'That was fast', he thought through gritted yellow teeth. His knees bent as the duracrete circle smashed into the floor below and cracked into a dozen pieces, spilling him forwards into a roll that saw him spring up and turn half way across the room. He was still above the library level he needed to access. Looking from side to side, he saw the spinning cables of a lift and heard the loud drone of the buildings ventilation system sucking air from the roof down through each floor of the building. Holding Slake out at his side, Belisarius raised the canister launcher held in his left and depressed the trigger twice. THUNK!! A gas canister blasted in an arcing loop from the launcher's muzzle. THUNK! And it was joined by a second. The gas grenades struck the floor near where he had fallen, rupturing on contact and exploding outwards in an expanding black cloud. Chemical smoke and nanogene spore in aerosol form blackened the roof, obscuring visibility in the dimly lit maintenance room. The insidious miasma rose like steam belched from a pipe, rising through the hole and causing the dissipating gas on the roof to swirl around the rising column. CLICK! Belisarius thrust the launcher back into its plastoid scabbard on his left thigh and raised Slake in both hands, the buzzing from the spores clinging to the manreaper's sickle shaped head could barely be heard over the constant whir of building machinery. A tap on his wrist console switched off the continuous stream of combat stims and toxins being pumped into his system. His ruined nerve endings usually numb, the virologist for once focused on the constant physical agony of his tortured and withered frame, allowing himself to experience blissful suffering. Beneath the tattered brown cloak and suit of radzone trooper armour, his body began to shake as pure uncompromising pain overwhelmed him, deepening his connection to the currents of the malevolent fey. Just as his master had taught him from an early age, the Sith channeled the corrupting energy throughout his body, inciting the curse that afflicted his wasted frame the same as it afflicted the rest of the loyal but damned warriors under his command. Sneering behind the visage of a plague doctor of old, the virologist expanded his aura to encompass the room, seemingly projecting his wicked spiritual presence to be everywhere at once.Even those without the Force would have felt a discomfort in the Sith's presence, enduring a malaise of the soul that filled ones head with doubt and despair. His physical agony transformed into others discomfort and fear.
When the wall was breached, spilling massive shards of heavy duracrete, a roar went up from the assaulting force as they continued the charge. Helmet speakers and the wet rattle of screams distorted by respirator grills sounded a twisted out-of-tune chorus. It was short lived, however, for as the wall was breached the last of the SPHA-Ts went up. The crackling blue electrical discharge running the length of the artilleries turbolaser cannon was replaced by a glowing ball of orange flame expanding out, with several smaller detonations as the rest of its munitions were cooked and prematurely exploded. Behind them, the few remaining AV-7s raised the angle of their barrels for a firing arc that would loop over the wall. Having switched to flechettes, these mortars exploded mid-air and rained down on the city as steel shrapnel. With the city swathed in a gaseous green layer of death, this razor hail of solid metallic darts was especially dangerous to any defenders, risking tearing through protective suits and seals. These only lasted a few volleys as the stationary artillery made for easier targets. Radiation zone troopers abandoned burned and broken equipment and joined the tail end of the charge, bolstering the ranks of the GraveScythes leading the way.Acrid propellant hissed from burning jump packs as Phase-Zero Dark Troopers were launched into the air. Shrapnel impacts banged against their durasteel plate, while glancing blaster bolts left little smoking welts in the otherwise pristine surface, blackening the gunmetal grey with dark carbon scoring. They landed further ahead in the surge of troops, protected knee joints of mechanical legs kicked up dust and scattering stony gravel as they landed, then leapt into the air again. They hurtled over the wall, their numbers dwindling with every second of their advance. Unlike the hazard and radzone troopers, they were unhampered by obstacles or the loss of their comrades. There wasn't much left of these cybernetic men, at least, the parts that were once human. Now they meat in a can, controlled more by an algorithm and droid brain than by their own ability to process thought. One had half his helmet blasted away, revealing corpse grey flesh strewn with ribbons of scar tissue. Milky cataract crusted eyes stared vacantly, completely reliant on the optical feed of the damaged helmet.Dantioc hit the dirt as an enemy ship targeted his person with laser cannons. The ground in front of him was blasted upwards in a cascade of burnt and broken rock, forcing him to roll to the side before crawling back to his knees and taking shelter behind an overturned speeder tank. The flag he had been waving back and forth to rally the troops was lost, discarded somewhere in the dirt or vaporized by the enemies lasers, he didn't know. He grimaced as he hefted his T-21, feeling something loose in his chest. Resting the barrel on the side of the overturned vehicle, he tried to get a sight on the Kom'rk streaking past, but it was already beyond the range of his gun to accurately hit. It wouldn't have done much damage against ship armour anyways. Still, that craft was doing some serious damage to assault force. There was already at least a dozen burning wrecks, if not more, that could be attributed to its tally. Removing his repeating blaster, he dropped into a crouch behind the useless tank and put two fingers to his ear, activating his communicator."Subprime Soulscourge to all anti-air units!" His respirator barked into the comm, louder even than the absolute chaos of no-mans land. "That gauntlet transport is reaping a heavy toll on our advancing units and armour. Prioritize target. Take it out!"He waited 1 second, 2 seconds, then 3. Before the 4th second past, a synthetic sound voice responded over the open comm.Acknowledged, Subprime. Anti-air units reprioritizing target list. Anti-aircraft flak pods on the backs of four legged AT-AAs raise and swiveled on the backs of the mobile walkers, temporarily ignoring enemy bombers and ships to focus their attention on the Muun Orar. Dozens of flak missiles launched, scattered, and streaked into the sky. A few AAC-1s added their back mounted missile turrets to the mix as well, though their rate of fire was considerably less. The homing rockets were less potent than say a concussion missile, but they'd still put some heat on the fast moving Mandalorian transport.Stepping out from behind the cover he had taken, Dantioc kept the enemy Kom'rk in sight. He let out a ragged breath as his own soldiers rushed past him continuing the charge. "Now where are my damn reinforcements?!" Growled the GraveScythe, before picking up his heavy feet and rejoining the charge.
|
|
Galaar Vhett
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 356 
Affiliation: Mandalorian Assembly
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Galaar Vhett on Jun 23, 2022 19:55:33 GMT -8
Vera Fett Harini Bralor This ain't no time to be a hero!Galaar barks back at Vera as she seemed poised and ready to probably jump out of the craft and soar for the city below. The green cloud that fell across the city certainly made the hairs on the back of the old Mandalorian's neck stand up. Grabbing the controls, he veered off, deciding to keep their distance from the city for now. That... didn't look safe.I don't like the looks of that... I get a really bad feeling. It's likely too late to help the civilians...The Legate had faced Rancors and Acklays, wrestled with Gorogs and Nexu, thrashed with Massiffs and Exoboars, but this... this just didn't sit right at all and gave off all kinds of bad signals. Galaar was not going to risk anything for what was unknown to them. He turns to Harini afterward though.Check the scanners. See if they are bringing up anything about what's going on there.Fett began to key through the channels, trying to find those that were allied and military specifically.Eight, plug me in.The little droid whistles as it taps into the channels belonging to the forces of Kaine Australis .This is Galaar of Clan Fett, authorization code Z-476-9924A, Legate of the Mandalorian Defense Corps to whoever is in command on the ground. I need a sit-rep on what the hell is going on! Give me coordinates to land and I will give my assistance.
|
|
|
|
Post by Amaranth Australis on Jun 25, 2022 4:27:33 GMT -8
 
In the middle of the carnage, Captain Fey'lya's tanks provided welcome fire support to the much battered infantry, now fighting from the wreckage of buildings brought down by artillery. The only bonus for the troops was that shellholes and destroyed homes provided excellent and extensive cover from the hellish and incessant firepower deployed against them. Nobody ran, nobody quit, everyone fought as hard as they could. Holding off the enemy with concentrated fire where they could, pulling back to shorten their lines when they could not. Slowly but surely, they were being driven back into a smaller and smaller area of the city.
Colonel Trifel could do nothing more to help her beleaguered force, though she welcomed the fire support from a gunship that was drawing a significant amount of ground fire. She could at least help them out. "All anti air batteries hold fire. Remaing fighters, go wild weasel, suppress all anti air positions." Her order would give the enemy's aircraft a respite, but her pilots would have their pick of any ground target firing upward. What little was left of her offensive striking power redeployed and engaged ground targets with strafing runs; their missiles long expended. Grimly, proud of her people, she monitored the battle, watching as her forces were inevitably attrited and pushed back.This is Galaar of Clan Fett, authorization code Z-476-9924A, Legate of the Mandalorian Defense Corps to whoever is in command on the ground. I need a sit-rep on what the hell is going on! Give me coordinates to land and I will give my assistance.
 Amaranth, unique among her siblings or most of her family, had grown up not just an orphan, but on a world similar to that of Myrkr, a single city, with a wild and untamed wilderness beyond the city walls. Myrkr with all its dangerous fauna, was a serene paradise compared to where she had grown up. A world with carnivorous flora, seventeen different known kinds of flesh eating bacteria, and creatures that ranged in size from deadly insects the size of a fingernail's tip, to beasts that could happily devour a rancor whole. The vongformed hellscape of her homeworld had uniquely prepared her for survival.
Amaranth liked to know what she was dealing with. She noted the melting effect the huge being's staff weapon had on the building's exterior roof, and decided she wanted absolutely no part of whatever it used to dissolve the ferrocrete. Amy adjusted her flight path to avoid that area and land on a different part of the rooftop, going over the side and using her boot and gauntlet spikes to cling to a side wall. She was content to pursue at a safe distance as she analyzed the threat, a threat she was rapidly reclassifying from curiosity to extreme threat. She initialized her HUD's scanner and tasked the interlink to the Clan's AI to analyze the enemy's weapon. She did not waste time postulating what the enemy was doing. Thoughts like that distracted one, and got one killed. Assessing the danger came first in avoiding death. Childhood had burned that into her.
Unexpectedly, she felt a powerful presence through the Force. It felt sick, twisted, vile, corrupt, the familiar miasma of the Dark Side of the Force; but permeated with a rotting, disgusting, cloying despondence. Amaranth recoiled, closed herself down in the Force, making her presence small, and then smaller still, folding in on herself until she no longer felt ill. Whatever she had sensed was both dark, and powerful.
From cover, she took stock of the situation, and looked for the YT-1300 she'd spotted on the way down. She felt the thrill of the challenge of such a hunt along with a sensible and deep foreboding of the danger involved. A worthy challenge, to be sure, and one she would not shrink from, but not one to be taken idly. |
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jun 25, 2022 21:43:30 GMT -8
Check the scanners. See if they are bringing up anything about what's going on there.Fett began to key through the channels, trying to find those that were allied and military specifically.Eight, plug me in.The little droid whistles as it taps into the channels belonging to the forces of Kaine Australis .This is Galaar of Clan Fett, authorization code Z-476-9924A, Legate of the Mandalorian Defense Corps to whoever is in command on the ground. I need a sit-rep on what the hell is going on! Give me coordinates to land and I will give my assistance. "Subprime Soulscourge to all anti-air units!" His respirator barked into the comm, louder even than the absolute chaos of no-mans land. "That gauntlet transport is reaping a heavy toll on our advancing units and armour. Prioritize target. Take it out!"Anti-aircraft flak pods on the backs of four legged AT-AAs raise and swiveled on the backs of the mobile walkers, temporarily ignoring enemy bombers and ships to focus their attention on the Muun Orar. Dozens of flak missiles launched, scattered, and streaked into the sky. A few AAC-1s added their back mounted missile turrets to the mix as well, though their rate of fire was considerably less. The homing rockets were less potent than say a concussion missile, but they'd still put some heat on the fast moving Mandalorian transport.
As the shield indicator beeps shrilly to warn them that the shields have fallen below 10%, Tadgh hits buttons to launch chaff and initiate the electronic countermeasures, his heart hammering in his chest as he starts firing the aft laser cannons, sweeping wildly from side to side as he tries desperately to prevent any of the missiles he sees streaking towards them from reaching their target even though he can see that the effort will almost certainly be futile.
Conaodh does his best to bank and dive or climb as he maneuvers for the relative safety of the mountain range they had initially set out from in the hopes the terrain and countermeasures that Tadgh launched will hamper the pursuing missiles from crippling or destroying the Muun Orar, but with the odds so firmly stacked against him is not at all surprised when a missile hits their starboard side and brings their shields down, taking off most of the starboard wing with them. ::Wings are locked, I can't get them into landing position. We're going daab urakto!:: * Conaodh announces somewhat optimistically, fighting against the stick to keep their damaged ship on a course for a relatively clear area of terrain he can see ahead of them that might facilitate a less than lethal crash landing.
Tadgh hits a pair of missiles still pursuing them as, smoke billowing from the Muun Orar's damaged wing, they plummet down towards the ground with the sounds of multiple shrill alarms all but deafening him, and then grunts as a missile hits the side of the mountain Conaodh just barely misses, sending a spray of fire and rock out to pelt against their hull, and then is thrown forward and around wildly against his harness as they hit the ground with a sickening crunch and start sliding roughly across the rocky ground.
Slammed forward as the Muun Orar finally comes to a halt, Conaodh shakes his head, unsteadily freeing himself from his safety harness in a panic as he hears the crackling of flames around him. Grabbing a fire extinguisher, Conaodh sprays the overloaded instrument panels that are aflame, and then heads aft to see if any other fires have started that could ignite something that will make their crash landing end in an explosion.
Tadgh, wobbling shakily as, after freeing himself from his safety harness and heading aft to help Conaodh bring any fires under control, they realize the ship is not going to explode after all, laughs somewhat hysterically as he claps his tiny Bimm companion on the back and says, ::Any landing gar liser kemir be'chaaj teh, stabbi!:: **
Conaodh, joining in the hysterical laughter as relief courses through him nods repeatedly, exclaiming, ::Harini is going at kyr'amur mhi tion'tuur *** she sees her ship though, you know that right?::
Tadgh, getting his laughter under control as the situation they are in sobers him up swiftly, nods, ::We have to survive the rest of the battle first. We're down, but can still help Trifel out. Grab your gear, we'll find an observation point so we can at least keep feeding her intel on the enemy's movements and the positions of their artillery.::
Conaodh groans, the adrenaline that had been flooding his system while he had piloting the Muun Orar starting to fade and leaving him feeling drained, rolling his neck and trying to keep himself mentally in the game, then follows Tadgh as they head down to the lower deck to gear up and move out to find an observation point.* down hard
** you can walk away from, right!
*** to kill us when |
|
Vera Fett
The Mandalorian Assembly
Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.
Posts: 62
Affiliation: Mandalorian Protectors
|
Post by Vera Fett on Jun 27, 2022 8:32:06 GMT -8
This ain't no time to be a hero!Galaar barks back at Vera as she seemed poised and ready to probably jump out of the craft and soar for the city below. The green cloud that fell across the city certainly made the hairs on the back of the old Mandalorian's neck stand up. Grabbing the controls, he veered off, deciding to keep their distance from the city for now. That... didn't look safe.I don't like the looks of that... I get a really bad feeling. It's likely too late to help the civilians...The Legate had faced Rancors and Acklays, wrestled with Gorogs and Nexu, thrashed with Massiffs and Exoboars, but this... this just didn't sit right at all and gave off all kinds of bad signals. Galaar was not going to risk anything for what was unknown to them. He turns to Harini afterward though.Check the scanners. See if they are bringing up anything about what's going on there.Fett began to key through the channels, trying to find those that were allied and military specifically.Eight, plug me in.The little droid whistles as it taps into the channels belonging to the forces of Kaine Australis .This is Galaar of Clan Fett, authorization code Z-476-9924A, Legate of the Mandalorian Defense Corps to whoever is in command on the ground. I need a sit-rep on what the hell is going on! Give me coordinates to land and I will give my assistance. * Vera swore finally breaking her silence and letting out a fraction of her frustration. Her attention returned to the view port. I feel so useless up here!*Damn it! |
|
Belisarius Vilebroth
Member
Preparing to infect a world near you.
Posts: 65
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Belisarius Vilebroth on Jun 28, 2022 10:06:23 GMT -8
When the flying Mandalorian that Belisarius had spotted during his fall through the roof did not immediately drop through the hole he had made in pursuit of him, he eased a little, but not much. Time, as usual, was the enemy of genius. Unfortunately, his time to accomplish the task he had set before him was nearly up. Focusing on the bitterness that bubbled inside of him like a witches cauldron, he dipped the smallest part of his rotten soul into the dark waters of the malevolent fey and extended his ethereal senses, seeking the potential foe he had seen with his own bloodshot eyes. Despite the ease with which the darkside responded, its power heightened by the suffering and death inflicted upon the capital of this otherwise peaceful world, even the Plague Lord couldn't find the intruding pest.There were a few logical reasons he could surmise for this. One: the culprit possessed such a shallow connection to the Force that even the Sith virologist couldn't sense them. Unlikely given that even those without a means to manipulate the energy field that connected all things in the galaxy, they still typically had a presence in it, something tangible his wicked powers could detect. Two: they possessed some means to conceal themselves from his prying senses. Be it a technique, or more likely given that it had been a Mandalorian he had seen, an object capable of concealment. He didn't rule out any possibility, but rather, simply ranked and factored the likelihood of each possibility into his risk assessment of the situation.Shrouded in a black aerosol viral soup, Belisarius lowered the butt end of his war-scythe to the ground and leaned on it as he activated the communicator in his helmet, opening a channel to his fiendish cyborg assistant above."Festus." Chided his phlegmatic voice. "There may be an gnat buzzing around outside. See if you can't swat that fly." Static... ...as you command, your Foulness. A skeletal metal hand gripped the flight yoke of the YT-1300 still hovering overhead, maneuvering the floating freighter away from its current position over the roof and causing it to list lazily around the building perimeter. One lidless moisture parched eye flicked back and forth between the sensors and the cockpit window, while a crimson photo-receptor in the other socket remained firmly fixed in place, flaring furiously. As the ship swept around, he spotted something clinging to one side of the building and leaned in, staring at Amaranth's armoured form with climbing spikes embedded in the libraries side like a hungry tick. The drooping fleshy side of his face forced a smile, though not nearly a match for the fixed rictus grin of the mechanical other half. He placed his other hand on the weapons controls and flipped a switch, booting up the rotary blaster cannon on the underside of the freighter near the ramp. The freighter had heavier weapons, even if he couldn't get to the turret and fly the ship at the same time, but to use them with the Reaper Prime inside risked bringing down the building on his head. Better to use the smaller anti-personal weapon, even if it didn't pack the same punch.PEW! PEW! PEW! Blaster bolts fizzled from the barrel of the undermounted blaster cannon in rapid succession, heating up the bored muzzle as the acrid reek of burnt ozone filled the air. A basic defense subroutine controlled the firing spread, while Festus focused on keeping the freighter steady. He peppered the outer wall Amaranth was clinging to with shots.Inside, when Belisarius heard the sounds of blaster fire, he sprang into action. Raising Slake over his head, he brought the alchemically altered war-scythe down in a diagonal sweep, severing the spooling metal cable connected to the lift that ran the length of the library. He heard a great 'woosh' followed by a crash as the lift dropped all the way to the basement floor and smashed to pieces. The pincer handed mechanical arm connected to his power pack reached over his shoulder and clamped onto the metal spool of excess cable, then with a protesting groan it spun the spool in the opposite direction, lowering a length of metal rope that fell down the shaft after the fallen lift. His flesh still feeling like it was on fire for lack of a steady flow of his alchemical remedy, the Sith stepped forwards and dropped into the shaft, snagging the thick metal cable that dangled down the center with his left gauntlet, still holding Slake in his right. Sparks sprang forth from his palm due to the friction of his descent, but within seconds it was over. Using his momentum, he swung backwards, bringing his knees in to his chest. Then in one swift motion, his hand holding the cable held fast and he swung forwards, extending his booted feet as he did so. The lift doors at the ground level smashed outwards, coming off their metal tracks as they slid across the library floor.Belisarius swung out of the lift and landed in a crouch, then swiftly straightened as he swept his beaked helm from side to side, looking for threats. The library had largely been abandoned as the city came under attack. There were a few ignorant droids still lurking around performing mundane tasks like placing books back on shelves, but beyond that the only life he could detect was down in the basement where a few of the staff had taken shelter. He stalked through the maze of bookshelves, looking for a database console to access.
There wasn't much in the way of artillery left at this point. Most units had either been destroyed or were inoperable due to mounting damage. Everything was being put into that forwards charge, with a mix of hazard, radzone, and phase-zero troopers all filing through the breach in the wall, taking to the streets as the defending forces pulled back towards the center. It might have looked at that point like the invaders were close to overwhelming the meager defense force, but that was only because they were unconcerned with the casualties they were taking. For every dead defender, there were ten dead cyborgs littering the ground in a mire of damaged parts, sparking in pools of tainted blood and oil. Even Dantioc, who had fallen behind his men as he was trying to coordinate the attack from the chaos of the ground, was forced to climb over an uneven mat of his own slaughtered soldiers. His comm violated his ear as he struggled to cross the corpse strewn street and take cover behind a building with all its ground floor windows blown out. His armoured joint crunched glass underneath as he took a knee and pressed two armoured digits to his ear.Subprime Soulscourge, enemy gauntlet had been downed. Repeat, prioritized enemy gauntlet is down. Requesting permission to reprioritize enemy air units... Static laced the channel, then it was cut short from the other end.Dantioc watched from his position on the ground as enemy starfighters that had been streaking overhead seemed to fan out from the city in the direction of their slowly advancing ground vehicles to the north. He doubted the AA units would have much ordinance left at this point to fling at those ships. They likely presented easy targets. At least they had done their part, providing enough cover for the assault force to get this close. Still kneeling, the GraveScythe genuflected, offering a prayer for the souls of his brethren sent screaming into whatever cursed afterlife awaited them all."Be with the Eye." His respirator hissed, the toxic fumes it vented were negligible next to the green irradiated fog that shrouded everything. It was already having an effect on the environment, as poison chocked clouds crackled with green lightning in the sky above. Or perhaps that was just the boom of explosions overhead and a continuous exchange of laser fire. He couldn't tell from there.The sound of heavy treads crunching broken pavement drew his attention. Getting back up to his feet, he crouched slightly and peered around the corner, only to see one of Captain Fey'lya's tanks encroaching on his position. Bracing his T-21 against his shoulder, Dantioc emerged from behind the building he had been taking cover behind and began to fire superheated blaster bolts at the vehicle, drawing the attention of its swivelling turret. Just before it fired, he threw himself behind the corner wall of the building on the opposite side of the street, striking the pavement hard as the building behind him took a shell from the canderous' mass driver and exploded outwards in a shower of ferrocrete and glass. Coughing, he crawled back to his feet, glancing down at the miniature console built into his armours left forearm. The tactical feed it was providing was not good. Little lights blinked out, symbolizing the last of the anti-air units the assaulting force had brought with them were destroyed. There were a few speeder tanks zipping around here or there, but for the most part all he had left were the soldiers. Where were the reinforcements he had been promised? Cursing his ill fate as he rested his back against the wall of the building he was taking shelter behind, even as he could hear the tank getting closer, he looked up. Squinting, he swore he could just make out a line of distant specks through the green haze that shrouded the city.
From their vantage point high over the city, the Lancer-class pursuit craft 'Star Stalker' would have had an excellent view of what was coming down from orbit. A parting gift from the Excruciator, two hundred hex missiles carrying the same green poison fog that already blanketed the city, were streaking towards the vacant stretch of terrain south of the capital. Following on their coattails were fifty tightly packed drop pods targeting the terrain even further back, each loaded with an X-1 Viper and thirteen glory-class dark troopers. This was the killing blow. The city was already drowned in poison and radiation, its civilian infrastructure damaged from bombardment of varying sorts, with enemy soldiers terrorizing its streets. The initial forces deployed to the north had done everything they were supposed to, occupying the attention of the brave few who defended the capital. But when those pods hit the surface and unleashed their load of war droids, emerging from a rising wall of green poison death, there wouldn't be anything currently on the surface capable of stopping them. At least that was what the Reaper Lord, Torviel Wormwood, had surmised when he had launched them before breaking from orbit.Traveling ever downward, the missiles became easier to spot by the naked eye as they drew ever closer to the intended impact site. They vented long streams of chemical exhaust behind them, only marginally faster than the glowing orange troop capsules accelerating after them. Just a little further now...To make matters worse for the beleaguered heroes holding the line, three of the surviving Shadow Droids had finally taken notice of the Star Stalker. Most of Desolation Squadron was currently flaming debris somewhere in the city, or just outside of it. The same could be said for the TIE Bombers of Black and Gold Squadrons. But these three that had so far managed to avoid being blasted from the air by Rancor Squadron of the city's AA guns, fell towards the Lancer-class ship like a trio of vornskr hot on the trail of a ysalamir, nipping at its heels.They flew in a V formation, screeching all manner of tech hex and curse in angry binary over the comms. 0101 1100 1001 1011 0100 1111 0110 1001! Electrical current stimulated the droids lobotomized human brains, targeting the aggression centers of their tortured grey lobes. It drove them mad with fury. Lightning seemed to crackle from the lead starfighters right wing strut as it fired a current of crackling blue from its electromagnetic pulse gun, trying to fry the Lancer's electronic systems or overwhelm its shields. The other two fired blue bolts from their left wing tips, targeting the harried pursuit craft with shots from their ion cannons.
|
|
|
|
Post by Amaranth Australis on Jul 4, 2022 2:57:38 GMT -8
Despite the most incredible acts of bravery and dedication, the defence was being forced ever backward into a cityscape that was being ruined around them. By now the defenders had no artillery, and little to no air support still available. The ground defences were hard pressed, and the city's power grid was seriously unstable with all the destruction. Buildings came down, or burned, or burned as they came down, creating more rubble, in which soldiers and tanks fought on.
"Fey'lya, give me a status report." Trifel commed in. She was overlooking the city, not watching the battle holodisplay. An unfamiliar voice replied to her request. "Lieutenant Borosk here. The Captain's gone. His tank took a direct hit." Trifel covered the mic and swore violently. Another good being gone in this damned fight. She found steel inside herself and put it into her voice. "Report." The voice called back over the thunder of heavy guns. "We're holding firm, but we're starting to lose tanks. We're fighting house to house down here." She had no solution to offer them, and she hated herself for it. She had one card left to play. "Hold the line. Reinforcements are coming."
Colonel Trifel took stock of the situation grimly. She had to remain in command here, but the rest of them... What point to securing the base if the city burned? She turned to the Lieutenant in command of her guard detachment. "Form up a reserve, leave me and the comm officer. Take tanks and bikes and get out there." She knew what she was ordering them to do, and so did they. No one hesitated, and she loved them for it. Men and women and others who had served loyally and professionally were going to their deaths to save people most of them never knew. "Run fast and shoot straight." All in now, she thought to herself.
"This is Colonel Trifel. All units to hold the final defensive perimiter to the last round. There will be no retreat. No surrender. Resist, and Bite." The reserve force was already leaving the base, heading into the city, into the fire, into the valley of the shadow of death. Tanks moved out, as speeder bikes began to roar out ahead of them. Troopers followed the tanks, a few hundred in all. The last ones. They would do their duty. This battle's result might have been determined before the first shot was fired, but the fighting wasn't done with yet. And they would fight.The high pitched whine of a repeating blaster echoed even over the rush of the freighter's propulsion as it came around to attack Amaranth. She couldn't remain where she was, or she'd be blasted out of her beskar'gam by the blazing bolts. Shut down in the Force, she hadn't sensed the attack. Being shut down in the Force allowed her to release her anger without worrying about Bogan. Being attacked by a thrice damned spaceship offended her sense of fair play, and her anger burned white hot!
Not in any mood to show a sense of sport, Amy reacted to the attack by the simplest route of releasing the wall and dropping out of the line of fire. But she was far from done. Risking a singed backside, the moment she was below the line of sight, she activated her jetpack and rocketed skyward riding a quick burn which carried her above the freighter. She fell half a dozen feet, controlling her landing to come down atop the outrigger cockpit with a metallic thump, boots magclamping to the hull.
Like most Mando'ade, Amaranth's beskar'gam was tailored to her own personal tastes and style of combat. She preferred stealth to her father's preference for firepower, but she had borrowed one of his systems. Copied it, in fact. The acid spray attached to her right gauntlet was a twin to the one Kaine toted around. She spoke with no emotion but contempt in her tone, regardless of the fact that probably no one could hear her. That was a trait she had also borrowed from her father, though subconsciously.
"You chakaare aren't the only ones that can melt things. Have some of this!"
She set the weapon to stream with a simple blink command in her HUD, before activating the system, a yellowish sludge coating the transparisteel and framework of the viewport in horrifically corrosive molecular acid. She was glad of her helmet's filtration systems; what rose smoking from the freighter wasn't good to breathe in.
The moment she had an opening in the cockpit, she'd fill the air with razor discs from her other gauntlet. With her boots magclamped to the top of the freighter, they'd have a hard time throwing her off. She utilized her armor's built in weapons, ready to hand, arms extended toward the freighter's cockpit, ready to kill what was inside. |
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jul 5, 2022 20:57:41 GMT -8
Once they have reached a concealed observation point up in the mountains south of the city, Conaodh pans his T-visor's macrobinocular viewplate over the battered remnants of the enemy forces' artillery outside of the city, musing in a more hopeful tone than he actually feels, ::Well, things don't look so bad, really, all things considered. If Trifel's forces inside the city can . . .::
::Haa'taylir laam, * vod,:: Tadgh, his gaze pointed upwards to the skies, and his tone equal parts weary and dismayed, tells his comrade as he watches the enemy drop pods descending from orbit.
::Ah, shit, Conaodh says, then opens a secure comm channel to Trifel and tells her in Mando'a, This is the crew of the Muun Orar. We've been shot down, and have moved to an observation point south of the city. If you have any anti-air guns available, you need to get them trained on the skies south of the city ASAP. Enemy reinforcements are inbound. Looks to be upwards of thirty drop pods heading down from orbit.::
* Look upTo make matters worse for the beleaguered heroes holding the line, three of the surviving Shadow Droids had finally taken notice of the Star Stalker. Most of Desolation Squadron was currently flaming debris somewhere in the city, or just outside of it. The same could be said for the TIE Bombers of Black and Gold Squadrons. But these three that had so far managed to avoid being blasted from the air by Rancor Squadron of the city's AA guns, fell towards the Lancer-class ship like a trio of vornskr hot on the trail of a ysalamir, nipping at its heels.
Manning the Star Stalker's triple laser turret, Ksenia grimly pans the turret from starboard to port in as unpredictable a pattern as she can manage to lay down traversing fire meant as much to discourage the Shadow Droids pursuing them from getting a solid lock on the ship as to take out any of the three unwary enough to avoid the barrage of laser fire. Cursing as she suddenly focuses her fire on one of the Shadow Droids that maneuvers deftly to get above the field of fire she had been laying down to try for a weapons lock or pot shot, Ksenia tries to blast it out of the sky before it has the chance to do the same to them, warily keeping watch out of the corner of her eye on the other two Shadow Droids in case they get into position to warrant her full attention as well.
* We have company!
|
|
Galaar Vhett
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 356
Affiliation: Mandalorian Assembly
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Galaar Vhett on Jul 5, 2022 21:19:45 GMT -8
Trifel nodded to her comm officer to transmit coordinates to land at the base. If the Assembly had forces here too, maybe, just maybe, they had a chance of holding on long enough that some of the defenders might survive the battle. "Fett, this is Colonel Trifel in command of the defence. We're clearing the skies for you, our forces are being assaulted from all sides. My tanks are holding the center of the city, our base at the northern end remains secure." |
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jul 6, 2022 19:32:10 GMT -8
Abiageal tosses Ksenia her A280-CFE blaster as they head down the Star Stalker's boarding ramp after Galaar and the others. Harini, walking beside Galaar with her A280 blaster rifle slung in a patrol ready carry, stays silent as they head to the command center, able to tell from the way the base appears to be manned by only a skeleton crew that the situation in the city is bound to grim at best. Tamping down the unsettling feeling that they have set down on a proverbial sinking ship, Harini resolves to follow Galaar's lead and, sinking ship or no, fight as hard and smart as she can to make damn sure that the invading force pays dearly for what they have done to the city.
Ksenia, putting her A280-CFE blaster's sling over her shoulder in an off-side drop carry, walks up beside Galaar and says, ::Nice flying back there! I wasn't sure we'd be able to shake those Shadow Droids.::
Abiageal dryly points out, ::Probably just broke off once we left their assigned area of responsibility.::
Ksenia, always one to look for the positive, shrugs and counters, ::Maybe. Still, it was the ace piloting that got us out, right?::
Abiageal, ever the cynic, concedes half-heartedly, ::Sure, sure. Let's hope we get as lucky once we go up against the ground forces.::
Punching Abiageal's shoulder, Ksenia tries to sound more optimistic than she actually feels as she says, ::Jate'kara * is for pansies. We're Mando'ade, we make our own jate'kara.::
::Oya!:: Abiiageal says, punching Ksenia's shoulder and fighting against her ingrained cynicism to let her squadmate's spirit infect her despite the destruction they had seen on their way to the command center.
* Luck
|
|
Belisarius Vilebroth
Member
Preparing to infect a world near you.
Posts: 65
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Belisarius Vilebroth on Jul 7, 2022 9:39:16 GMT -8
Upon finding a terminal console connected to the libraries database, Belisarius set to work searching for the data he sought. He delved deep into the sea of files, focusing heavily on advances in medical science and nanobot technology. There was a peer reviewed journal article on Bakura's organ grafting and replacement that he found interesting, tucking it away for later study, then kept on sifting through one grain of knowledge after another. Finally he found something useful, a theory posed by a professor on Commenor that bridged the gap between his own research and the answer to his problem. The fingers of his radzone gauntlets gripped the console tightly, denting the otherwise pristine casing as anger welled in his breast, furthered along by the agony afflicting his physical self. Mechanized whirring sounded from the power pack mounted on his backplate as the syringe tipped servo-arm swiveled over his shoulder and flipped the poison filled needle up and out of the way, revealing a male data-probe he inserted into the computer. With a click as the probe cycled and locked in place, the manic droid brain in his armour began to download the information.The answer was so simple. So why then had he not been able to see it? He knew of course, but refused to accept the truth as reality. Of all the qualities his master had passed on to him, arrogance was perhaps the most prevalent. The Sith virologist struggled to acknowledge that anyone could match, or in some cases, surpass his knowledge of technomancy and dark science. Yet, there it was, plain as slime on a hutt.After downloading the information, he uploaded something not of his own creation to the libraries database. A virus, one he had borrowed from the NOE databanks while he still had access to them. His fingers danced across the touch pad, preparing to initiate a program that was once the bane of many a cybernetic system throughout the galaxy....
...
Upload Completed
...
...
...
...
Run Starkiller.EXEHis index digit lingered over the 'return' key. Even he was reluctant to run the program, knowing full well that once it was activated he would no longer have control over it. That damnable viral entity was as much a danger to his own operation as it was to anyone else. But...needs must, as they say. His finger descended, striking the key and solidifying the fate of the database with a singular damning keystroke...enter. As soon as his finger touched the key, the brilliant white background on display from the terminal went dark, then illuminated as lines of green viral code began to spill across the screen. He unplugged his servo arm from the terminal and stepped back, raising Slake in two hands high above his head. Then, with strength fueled by pain and anger, he brought the butt end of his polearm down on the terminal, smashing it to pieces in a repeated series of blows. Glass cracked, metal shattered, and split wires spat sparks that set into motion a series of small electrical fires. Belisarius turned from the smoking console and activated his communicator, opening a private channel to Festus Phageblight."Festus!" His phlegmatic voice coughed over the communications channel. "I have what I need. It's time we exit center stage." The answer he received was instant, though troubled and far from his liking. Apologies, O'Fecund Father, but there is a slight hiccup to our departure...
Festus rose out of the pilot chair as acid bubbled away on the cockpit canopy, hissing as it transformed metal and transparsteel to chemical sludge that dripped onto the controls after peeling away the viewport and melting the finer electronics within. Toxic fumes filled the cockpit with black smoke that agitated what little flesh remained on the twisted cyborg, afflicting his pox possessed skin with mild chemical poisoning. He stepped back further as glinting metal and sparks danced across his vision, as something like flak or shrapnel was fired into the cockpit. He raised his mechanical arm, shielding his exposed side as he continued to backpedal out of the room. Something struck his arm, embedding into the metal with a sharp 'thunk'. He stepped back into the corridor and looked at his mechanical limb, noting a razor edged disc of some sort had attached itself to the artificial appendage.No time for repairs. He made to grab the sonic pistol holstered on his hip, when the ship lurched to the side, throwing him in to the corridor wall. Whether it was the acid damage or the fact that no one was currently manning the controls, the YT-1300 listed to the side and smashed into the library building. Ferrocrete and twisted durasteel rebar scraped free and rained down on the ground below as the freighter dragged along the building, carving a deep furrow as the nose of the ship began to dip, angling out of control towards another nearby building that was half the height of the library. It was doomed to crash in seconds.Howling a binaric shriek of rage, Festus pushed himself off the corridor wall and finally wrapped his skeletal metal digits around the sonic blasters grip, pulling it free from its holster before thrusting it forwards towards the cockpit door. He had taken the weapon from a Nagai he had murdered during their exile in the Unknown Regions. Their race had been one among many the Reaper Prime had chosen for his experiments. It had a stun setting he had never used, but what was most notable was the maximum setting it was currently programmed to. The weapon could quite literally tear through matter at a molecular level. While not as effective against armoured targets, it made quite the mess of any organic tissue it came into contact with. The disc sticking out of his arm obscured his view, but it didn't matter because his glowing red photo-receptor and milky organic ocular organ were unable to penetrate the black smoke of the cockpit. He depressed the trigger once, firing a sonic blast where he calculated the cockpit window to be.Machine code screeched as he shouted. "DIE! DIE! DIE!"
Indeed, Abiageal's assertion was correct. After Ksenia's quick shooting punched a gaping hole through the lead Shadow Droid's glossy black center, causing it to violently explode seconds later, the other two veered off. Not for long, as they too ended up getting picked off by the few remaining weapon emplacements capable of taking out a starfighter. Now, as the shuttle train and starfighter squadrons under the command of the Reaper Lord had all been reduced to burning debris, this 'invasion' as it were had become a ground game.The closer one got to the city's center, the fiercer the fighting. Obroa-Skai City's defenders were likely thankful for the closed breathing systems of their armour and protective suits, and not just because of the poison fog and heavy rads that had transformed this once beautiful sparkling gem of the Inner Rim into an inhospitable toxic stew. It was the smell. Over the acrid stench of spent gunpowder and carbon scoring, the corpse stink of the fallen had taken on a life of its own. The pungent reek of voided bowels mixed with the sour nostril numbing putrescence of spilled embalming fluid from the wounded and dead cybernetic assaulting force. Mix a little alchemical fluid of Belisarius Vilbroth's creation that pumped through the veins of his GraveScythes, weeping in a vomitus slurry from those now littering the floor, and you were left with a foul odour that fermented in the chaos of battle. That lingering stench seeped deep into the city's bones, infecting well water that pooled beneath its surface, turning it brackish and foul. Years later, even with some notable advancements in filtration technology, that smell would linger in the planet's water, eventually becoming known by the populace as the 'funk'. With proper treatment it could be turned into something drinkable, but it always possessed a foul taste and noxious odor. Most would choose to import water instead, though as usual, it was the poor and the destitute that had little option in the matter.Dantioc was closest to the furious centre of the storm, near the heart of the conflict that was creeping towards the space port grounds. As was typical of heroic champions, or in this case fiendish villains, the men that served on his side were drawn to his leadership. Subprime Soulscourge was a beacon to rally behind, even if he had exchanged the banner of their cult for the blistering hot light repeating blaster in his gauntlet encased hands."To me! To me!" He roared definitely. "Hurry to meet death before your place is taken, my brothers! Scour and despoil! For the Reaper Prime, for the Eye!"His voice dripped with religious zeal, empowered by a faith he wasn't sure he even had until this moment. Make no mistake, he had always been a believer. But faith and devotion were not always easy when you served a dark god like theirs. Sometimes it felt like his death would be just as acceptable to It as that of their enemy. Even so, in this moment he swore he could feel its all-seeing gaze turned upon him. It gave him the strength and conviction to continue when his men were dying around him in droves.Nearing the space-port, he climbed over a hill of corpses and slid down the other side, spilling oozing bodies behind him as his boots struck the paved floor. He found a discarded mortar on the ground near one of his fallen brothers and flipped it off its side so that the tube like barrel was angled towards the port. His thumb rubbed soot and carbon scoring off a loose shell beside it, determining it was a shrapnel shell by the picto-gram and labelling on the side. Taking aim, he dropped the shell into the mortar and watched it spit it back, high and far, flying over the buildings currently providing him cover before looping back towards the ground ahead. He had no targeting information. He was simply hoping for luck. Fortunately, he still had some squirreled away. The mortar round exploded mid-air, raining down razor hail on the landing pad the Star Stalker had so recently set down on.
When the hex missiles finally struck the surface of the planet to the south just outside the city, the earth shook. A great rumble rolled across the landscape as rocky ground was churned into gravel. A giant plume of trihexalon gas rose a hundred meters into the sky, screening the impact site of the drop pods that struck next.VA-BOOM! VA-BOOM! VA-BOOM! Explosions tore across the tortured ground as drop pods slammed down and their protective casings detonated outwards, scattering twisted metal and flame. As the smoke cleared at each impact site, rows of emotionless automatons appeared, marching towards the city. X-1 Vipers, also known as Automadons, strode forwards like mechanized war-beasts into the green fog of war ahead. Only the North wall of the city had been breached, so they opened up on the South with their boosted blaster cannons. Flanked on either side by Glory-class dark troopers, the moved with the unity and synchronization of a purely droid army.They hadn't noticed the downed Muun Orar yet, considering it just another piece of debris on the battle field that had been shot down. Not that it would have caused them to operate any differently. The orders programmed into them were clear: attack from the south, breach the wall on that side, leave no one left alive. The droid army penetrated the poison wall of gas and emerged on the other side in ordered ranks like a mechanized force of demons.
|
|
|
|
Post by Amaranth Australis on Jul 9, 2022 1:29:46 GMT -8
At the North Base, the Legate would find a Mandalorian garrison denuded of almost all of its personnel. The last who could be spared had already been sent to fight in the final reserve. Only Colonel Trifel and her staff remained, with a single member of her personal guard for security. They had weapons in the armories and vehicles in the hangars, but she was out of personnel. Despite the desperate battle she was overseeing on a holodisplay, she continued to be distracted by the sight of the city the base oversaw in flames. Colonel Trifel was an experienced veteran, but the ordeal was testing even her limits of endurance, physical, mental, and psychological.
On the holodisplay, the remaining tanks and infantry units were displayed, along with fairly precise enemy locations, provided by the various air and ground units, all linked together over the battle network. Trifel could see everything, but do very little; every asset she had was already fully committed. She was open to advice and assistance, but short of heavy numbers of reinforcements, their situation was dire."Hiccup, am I?" Amaranth exclaimed indignantly, her rage maintained with indignation that some foul hellspawn would refer to her in such terms. Meting out destruction felt very natural to the huntress who was magclamped to the top of the YT-1300. Having melted its cockpit viewport with acid, she had blazed away at the inside with her gauntlet mounted razor disc launcher, emptying the magazine in short order into the space below. She prepared to switch to another weapon, but before she could do so, she caught sight of movement below, through the smoke, and she immediately recognized the weapon she saw, identifying it as a Nagai sonic blaster. Danger she knew well, and those shabla things gave Mandalorian Rippers a run for their money.
She had maintained her hold on the falling freighter up to now, determined to ride it to the end, but the sight of the weapon changed her mind. She unclamped and flew free on her jetpack, getting out of the line of fire and jetting up to a half-destroyed balcony where she grabbed on and held herself in place with her right hand. She held on tight as what remained of the cockpit's external framework and viewport exploded outward, shattered into thousands of sharp, acid dripping shards. Several caught her in the legs and torso despite her escape, pinging loudly off armor plate, and she hissed in pain as at least one found flesh, burning and lacerating.
Her voice was hard, despite the searing pain in her left leg "Choke on this." Amy switched via HUD to her minirocket launcher, also mounted conveniently on her left forearm, and aimed downward at the smoking cockpit. She fired twice. When meeting the sort of horrible creature she'd glimpsed, the Australis way was to meet it directly with explosives. Two small but powerful explosive rockets shot away from her arm and into the smoke below. She chided herself for inefficient thoughts as she realized she coveted her enemy's weapon, and she was concerned for her Rancors, up there, out of contact. Time for looting after you make the corpse, she told herself. Stick to your own job. Stay angry.
She wanted whoever had fired that Nagai gun at her, and so she dropped from the balcony toward the falling freighter below in the wake of her rockets, coming in on their exhaust trails. Drawing an arm to the small of her back, she retrieved her polearm, brought it forward, and extended it from the size of two daggers to its full and deadly length. It was the other half of the Mandalorian Lanvarok her brother Reyn had forged of good Mando beskar, married to the razor disc launcher. It was the half of the Lanvarok combo that suited her preference for close range melee combat perfectly. If someone inside the freighter were to look up, beyond the incoming rockets, they'd see Amaranth coming for them, a faceless black clad shape preceded by death.
Harini Bralor Belisarius Vilebroth Galaar Vhett Vera Fett |
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jul 14, 2022 21:51:46 GMT -8
Tadgh, after watching what he can only hope was the last of the enemy drop pods hit the ground and disgorge its discouraging cargo of troops and the X-1 Viper accompanying them, contacts Colonel Trifel to amend his earlier assessment of the hostile reinforcement numbers, adds that she should let her troops know that the X-1 armor defends against energy blasts but is vulnerable to physical attacks before ending the transmission. Watching the last of the enemy forces enter the beleaguered, poisoned city, Tadgh sighs and, checking his TL-50 heavy repeater and adjusting its sling, turns to Conaodh and says, ::Not much more intel we can provide from here, vod. We could stand here and watch the city burn or go down and . . .::
::Shukur kebise,:: * suggests Conaodh in a less than enthusiastic tone, feeling just as useless standing around as he imagines his comrade is, and knowing that they will be of more use to their brethren if they make for the city and do what damage they can to the invading forces.
::Elek,:: ** Tadgh confirms, then with a shrug of his shoulders, steps to the edge of the cliff they had been observing the enemy movements from and, pausing to take a look at the distance dividing them from the city's southern edge and seeing that they aren't likely to encounter any resistance along the way since the enemy has moved their forces into the city and appear to be relentlessly advancing with little reason to watch their rear as they have crushed anything in their way so far, steps off the cliff and activates his Z-6 jetpack to begin the journey for the city and the battle raging within it.
Conaodh, taking flight after Tadgh and keeping a bit of distance between them so, should they be detected, no one attack will be able to remove them both from the board, is the first to engage the enemy once they have reached the interior of the embattled city. Fortunately for Conaodh and Tadgh, the enemy has all eyes front as they advance, and so the squadron of dark troopers he hovers above and behind like a predatory bird within the shadowy murky eldritch green mists are caught unawares as the diminutive Bimm fires a type-12 A anti-personnel rocket from his wrist gauntlet's MM-9 rocket system into the center of the 13 man squad's position before, leaning to his left as he engages his jet pack's maneuvering thrusters to swing in a rough semi-circle behind the remaining squad members while firing his A280 blaster rifle in short, well aimed bursts to eliminate them or, failing that, keep their heads down so they have no opportunity to return fire with any accuracy.
Tadgh, engaging a squadron of dark troopers ahead of where Conaodh has engaged their foes, launches his attack from above the enemy squad he has targeted, flying past their nine o'clock as he fires the anti-vehicle homing missile from his Z-6 jetpack after targeting the X-1 Viper accompanying the squad. Even as the missile is streaking for the Viper, Tadgh is swinging around and, firing a steady burst of flame from the ZX miniature flame projector on his left wrist gauntlet to obscure his movements and toast any dark troopers caught in its path, opens up with his TL-50 heavy repeater, hanging from its sling at his right side, and rains a veritable storm of blaster bolts from the weapon's multiple barrels down on the troopers.
* Break things
** Yep
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Harini scans the holodisplay painting a grim picture of the situation in the city, looking for any way to contribute to the defense with what limited resources they have. Turning to Abiageal, her squad's slicer, she asks, Those vehicles in reserve, any way you can slave them and remotely control them?
Abiageal, shaking her head, says, ::Not in the time we have. I might be able to get one. . . . she pauses as she looks at Hound, Galaar's HK-50 droid and, remembering that he also has an astromech as she gets an idea. You know, I just might, she looks at Hound and asks the droid, You feel up to being set up to control some tanks and planes, help out our guys on the ground out there? With Eight's help, she explains, I could slave the tanks and planes, have you use your tactical programming to control them with Eight helping manage the sensor data from here and the vehicles themselves to guide you. What do you think?::
Harini, knowing Abiageal views droids as sentient and won't be asking Galaar for permission, asks in her stead, You mind if she works with your droids? Turning her attention to Ksenia, she asks, You see any inviting sniper perches?
Ksenia, guessing where this is leading, starts configuring her A280-CFE into its sniper rifle assembly as she points to a tall building, still intact, overlooking a fairly wide vista that would make a decent point to overwatch the remaining defenders position from, ::That looks like a good spot. If we have the defenders start funneling the enemy troops towards those two parallel streets there, and moving a squad or two to these positions here and here, they could create a choke point, make the best use of their numbers while I target any enemy troops that look like they are in charge, try and sow some confusion.::
I like it. Move out when you're ready, we'll start getting the friendlies moving to create the choke point. Looking over at Galaar as Ksenia starts setting out, Harini asks, Any other ideas, or should we get out there and join in?
|
|
Belisarius Vilebroth
Member
Preparing to infect a world near you.
Posts: 65
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Belisarius Vilebroth on Jul 21, 2022 11:23:50 GMT -8
Festus glared through the acrid chemical smoke, his mechanical eye flaring a sinister red as he tried to peer through the haze, even as the wind whipped past and shrieked as the freighter spun. He was just clearing the the toxic curtain, attempting to see whether or not his sonic blaster had 'goo-ified' his foe. As he re-entered the cockpit and looked up through the acid burned opening, what he saw gave him cause for concern. The cybernetic half of his brain instantly clocked the two rockets streaking directly towards him, while the targeting algorithm he had installed painted a reticule on either piece of ordinance. All his calculations aside, it quickly became clear that there was no way he'd be avoiding damage this time. At the last moment before impact, he turned his mechanical half towards the incoming shell and raised his metallic arm to shield his patchwork body. The first rocket struck deck and erupted in a brilliant wash of flame and kinetic force, scorching the cyborg in a fiery shower as his body was hurled out of the smoking room and flung further down the hall. A second blast followed the first, though the blast wave was less forceful down the corridor for virtue of the destruction caused by the first, the damage giving the force of the explosion more room to dissipate.Smoking and spinning, the freighter finally struck the roof of the smaller structure next to the library, and dragged across its surface. Ferrocrete ground into gravel under the pressure and the roof of the building was practically sheered off before the damaged YT-1300 finished its skid at the edge of the previously flat surface, then teetered over to crash into the street, balancing on its side as its bow end came to rest against the structure it had just struck. Cosmetic damage had been transformed into real damage as it became clear to anyone that the ship wasn't going anywhere now.The main doors to the library burst outwards as something inside forcefully struck them, sending scattered glass and warped metal frames sparking across the street. From within the poorly lit building, a tall figure appeared, nearly seven feet in height. For as tall as this being was, they were equally thin, almost as though their proportions had been stretched vertically. A long ragged edged cloak of oily brown covered what looked like a modified version of the radiation zone trooper armour that many of the stormtroopers assaulting the city had been wearing, painted a dark off hued green. Three skeletal mechanical segmented limbs whirred about his backside through tears in the cloak, frantically whipping about a buzzing surgical saw, dripping syringe, and vice like pincer. Held in the lanky creature's right gauntlet was a tall war-scythe, with a sickle shaped blade that seethed with near microscopic nanobots that swarmed across its surface like mechanical flies. The figure turned his beak helm upwards and focused the two filmy green lenses of his mask on the damaged roof of the neighbouring building that had just finished spilling debris onto the street."Festus." Repeated Belisarius as the communicator built into his mask translated his voice into a digital format and broadcast it over their shared channel. "Where have you gone, Festus? Where is the ship?"Seconds past until finally the channel crackled with static as it usually did when both sides were open. A wounded growl was the only reply he initially received.Ugh...
Though he didn't breath, Festus Phageblight still found himself coughing as he chocked up bits of scorched flesh and mechanical pieces that had rattled loose in his chest cavity. The metallic side of his body glowed orange, still superheated from the blast, though the glow was dimming with the passing of each second. Where it had cooled, the fires had left a black soot from the carbon scoring, a hue to match the cooked flesh that painted the border where he was split down the middle between living and cybernetic organisms. He could still hear the sizzling of some of his skin crisping up like bacon where it touched his metallic components, though any pain was negligible. He hadn't been able to feel that sort of sensation in a least a decade.Groaning unintentionally, he struggled to rise. The blast had deposited him down the hall, but it was the subsequent crash that had dropped him and sent his body rolling towards the engine section of the freighter, leaving him in a pile of detritus along with the rest of the debris. Slowly, he dug himself out and struggled to rise to his feet. The usually glaring brilliance of his photo-receptor was gone, the lens had cracked and the bulb had burned out, leaving a smoking crater. His human eye, though milky and nearly blind, made out just enough in front of his face for him to find a wall and lean against it. He could hear his masters words bouncing off the inside of his skull as the Reaper Prime spoke over the shared communications channel."Ugh..." He started, holding his damaged right prosthetic with his scabbed left hand. Noticing the absence of his blaster, he looked around for it in the debris, but found no trace of it. "Master, I'm afraid the ship..." He stopped as a coughing fit wracked his throat, spitting up more broken circuits and bits of rib. He struggled through, forcing himself to finish. "...is no longer functional. We will need to find an alternative means of departure." He looked around, trying to discern his current location. "I think I'm near the engines, O'leprous lord. I shall try to find an air lock..."No need.
In the seconds it had taken the cyborg to speak, the self proclaimed Plague Lord had crossed the distance between the library and the damaged building beside it, doing so in a quick stride that would have taken a lesser being at least twice if not thrice the amount of steps. Green trihexelon gas that shrouded the streets in a luminous layer of poison fog obscured him from above, but likewise, prevented him from seeing beyond the thick miasma. Thus he wasn't able to spot Amaranth as she dropped towards the ship, but find the ship he most certainly did. The fires burning across its surface illuminated the near vicinity around it, almost penetrating the fog completely.Spotting the maintenance hatches on the top of the ship near the engines, now closer to chest level as the freighter leaned against the building on its side, he raised the tall war-scythe held in his hands above his head. The sickle shaped head of Slake glinted in the sour light of the gas, then flashed as he brought the alchemically crafted polearm down in one powerful sweep and struck the hatch surface. Metal peeled apart, partially sheered by the force of the strike, but also quite literally dripping as the nanogene spores dissolved the material at the microscopic level."Festus!" He hollered phlegmatically into the pierced maintenance hatch.
An explosion erupts amongst one of the groupings of thirteen, the significance of the number to the attackers likely unbeknownst to the brave defenders. The tide of mechanical troops was unshakeable, however, and while four in close proximity to the blast had been disabled, the remaining nine of that particular grouping continued to advance. These droids had but one purpose, and since fear did not serve that particular reason for being, it had not been programmed in to them. Droid brains calculated a tactical response, which in this case was as simple as raising their repeating blasters and discharging bolts of energized gas at the sky as they attempted to target the two fast flying Mandalorians. That grouping slowed as it turned in response to Conaodh raining bolts down on them from above. Their armour shrugged off shots directed at the heavier plated sections with relative ease, but the coverage was far from complete. Two more went down in a hail of bolts, one sparking from a damaged photo-receptor where a bolt penetrated and fried its droid brain, and the other dropped as a lucky bolt found a gap between the droids head and neck. As a result of being engaged, this grouping had to slow to deal with the threat, and soon found themselves falling behind the forward march of the rest of the mobile droid army.As Tadgh's rocket struck the X-1 Viper, an explosion erupted across its beetle like shell. The flames dispersed easily enough, but the molecular shielding of the droid walker was not prepared for the physical impact of a rocket, having been designed to primarily absorb energy weapons. The result was a gaping puncture in its shell the size of a gamorreans head, still smoking as residual heated shrapnel sizzled inside, fusing wiring and screwing up its advanced systems. Electrical current could be seen crackling across the surface of its metal body and the walker slowed, and then stopped in place as it lost power. The darktroopers escorting it were left in the same position as the ones Conaodh had attacked, with their advance halted by the loss of the armour they were expected to escort. Their blaster carbines snapped up and filled the air with a dazzling but deadly light show, though they struggled to follow their target, as the flames flaring behind Tadgh obscured their aim.
|
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Jul 28, 2022 8:42:07 GMT -8
Conaodh, wishing he had a pouch full of EMP grenades as he notes the foes they are engaging are almost certainly droids, continues flitting about in the air as he is spraying fire down on the remnants of the squad of troopers he had taken on, hearing the occasional ping or ting of energized gas bouncing off the armored plates of his beskar'gam even when the impacts don't land squarely enough to hurt. Conaodh has been shot, stabbed, punched and kicked enough during the course of his tenure with the long-range reconnaissance patrol he serves with that the enemy troopers return fire doesn't phase him or give him pause, but the Bimm finds he has, since witnessing the chemical attack on the city he is trying to help defend, developed a borderline pathological fear of being exposed to the poisoned air and dying in some horrific, undignified way that will probably involve puking or crapping his insides out; which is why, when he hears a ripping sound rather than a ping or ting when one of the enemy bolts doesn't hit one of his armored plates and instead sears through his upper right thigh, he goes into a blind panic. Cursing in a higher pitch than usual, Conaodh breaks off his attack, engaging his jet pack's thrusters to take him higher up, and then drops unceremoniously down onto the bombed out upper floor or what looks like an office building. Dropping his rifle, Conaodh looks down, holding his breath as his gloved hand reaches shakily out to look at the thin, still smoldering tear in his flight suit. Laughing a bit hysterically as he sees that the armor mesh beneath the fabric is scorched but intact, Conaodh says a silent prayer of thanks to Kad Ha'rangir.
Tadgh, getting a few new dents and scorch marks on his beskar'gam in the process, dispassionately mows down or burns to a crisp the last of the darktroopers in the squadron he has engaged, descends to the top of a tall, bombed out building to conserve what fuel remains in his jetpack once the last of his foes has fallen, panning his buy'ce's macrobinocular viewplate over the desolate ruins of the city streets ahead of his position to determine where best to next engage the hordes of relentlessly advancing mechanical foes marching on the city. Spotting a small band of friendlies trying to make a retreating defensive action as the enemy troops press their advance, Tadgh checks his TL-50 Heavy Repeater and wrist gauntlet's MM-9 rocket system before taking back to the air and, as he approaches the rear of the enemy squadron firing on the friendlies, fires a concussion blast from his Repeater into the center of the enemy position, firing an anti-personnel rocket on the heels of the blast that is targeted more to the front of the enemy formation.
|
|
Galaar Vhett
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 356
Affiliation: Mandalorian Assembly
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Galaar Vhett on Aug 13, 2022 10:26:06 GMT -8
At the North Base, the Legate would find a Mandalorian garrison denuded of almost all of its personnel. The last who could be spared had already been sent to fight in the final reserve. Only Colonel Trifel and her staff remained, with a single member of her personal guard for security. They had weapons in the armories and vehicles in the hangars, but she was out of personnel. Despite the desperate battle she was overseeing on a holodisplay, she continued to be distracted by the sight of the city the base oversaw in flames. Colonel Trifel was an experienced veteran, but the ordeal was testing even her limits of endurance, physical, mental, and psychological.
On the holodisplay, the remaining tanks and infantry units were displayed, along with fairly precise enemy locations, provided by the various air and ground units, all linked together over the battle network. Trifel could see everything, but do very little; every asset she had was already fully committed. She was open to advice and assistance, but short of heavy numbers of reinforcements, their situation was dire.
As he discussed his plan, Galaar ensured a holoimage of the Base was in full view of the command staff....the base here is strong and defensible. We don't need trained crews, just motivated ones. Even a strong position can be held by a feeble or skeleton crew with the right leadership and determination. Let us not forget the small force that defended Bothuwai from the Sith Empire during the Great Galactic War.It took a hundred thousand Sith soldiers, war droids, and Sith warriors to dislodge a mere four thousand Republic troops and less than a hundred Jedi. The North Base had the means, just needed the manpower. Their best bet was to open the channels and call forth nearby citizens to assemble and prepare to defend their homes.After all, if the North Base falls, the encirclement will be complete. We need this venue open in case the other position needs to fall back. And I am sure we can make them pay for trying to close the gap.With that plan said, Galaar walked over to the communications station to relay this call to arms across the city. |
|
Belisarius Vilebroth
Member
Preparing to infect a world near you.
Posts: 65
Affiliation: Formerly of the Eye
Traffic Light: Blue
|
Post by Belisarius Vilebroth on Sept 15, 2022 6:24:33 GMT -8
"We came to Obroa-Skai for information, anything that could help my master develop a cure to our condition. With its people we shared a measure of the misery we ourselves had already endured. When we left...there were only ruins." - Festus Phageblight
Believe it or not, the worst of the conflict was already behind them. Between the shelling, the radioactive particulate, and the poison cloud that enveloped the city in an eerie green glow, the landscape of Obroa-Skai City was forever changed. Dantioc Soulscourge, Subprime of the GraveScythes, had been thrust into a command position that had overseen some of the hardest fighting thus far. His entrenching tool, essentially a glorified vibro-shovel with a serrated edge, dripped gore and congealed bits of blood from the the latest victim he had just brained with a single brutal blow. He wrenched it free from the skull it had caved, taking with it a layer of scalp and half a torn face, ripped from the biohazard suit the defender had worn against the hazardous environment that blanketed the city like a toxic miasma. With a sweep he shook the organic filth caught clinging along its edge before securing it to a hook on the side of his modified hazard trooper armour. He sucked back a breath through the triangular respirator concealing the bottom half of his face, feeling rejuvenated as a mix of combat stims and toxic chemicals that would have turned an ordinary humans lungs to a putrescent slurry circulated his diseased body, granting him strength immeasurable despite the physical agony he was forced to constantly endure. Wisps of that noxious mist vented through the grill slits at the front, briefly obscuring his jaundiced yellow eyes as he looked down the fractured road towards the last hold out in the city. The fighting there was still the fiercest, for it was done by men, who lived and died as the fates decided.Certainly one could understand the reason for the resistance from the city's brave but overwhelmed defenders. Even those that had no ties to this place would have no desire to expire in the septic stew that it had become. For them it was about survival. That was one thing the invaders had in common with those they persecuted. They too were fighting for survival in a way, for every day they further suffered the darkside manifested disease that ate at their flesh and turned their bodies to rot, the clock to their eventual end ticking ever closer to that final moment.Unslinging his T-21 blast rifle, he looked down the iron sights towards the sole remaining outpost, looking for a target on the wall. Visibility was limited due to the dragons breath choking the air, but he glared all the same, squinting through the bloodshot strain as his heart continued to thump amongst the tumours in his chest. Finger inching towards the trigger, he prepared to fire a lethal bolt when a previously dim square on his forearm plate flickered a virulent green. He lowered his blast rifle.It was the signal to retreat, which could only mean one thing given their current advantage: the Reaper Prime had found what he sought. Now it was time to go.A wet gurgle was elicited from his throat as he growled through his half mask, the chemical mire that stoked the aggressive centers of his nervous system not wanting to yield just yet, but he knew the price of disobedience. Some things were worse than death, worse even then their blighted leprous existence. He did not wish to be the next subject on his master's surgical slab. Taking another poisoned breath, he opened a comms channel to all the GraveScythes yet living in the broken and burnt out remains of the city, snarling a phlegmatic order.This is Subprime Dantioc Soulscourge to all squads. We're done here. Let the robots advance cover your retreat and make for the shuttles outside the city walls. Those that linger... He hissed through blackened teeth. ...will be left behind.
While the Obroans themselves were a sad expression of what decadence and soft living had done to humanity, the Mandalorians among the mix were no easy prey. Where Conaodh and Tadgh fought, the structured and orderly advance of mechanized Glory-class dark trooper squads and the black armoured beetle like X-1 Vipers halted, forced to return fire at the hard to hit airborne foe that zipped around on the wings of rockets strapped to their beskar clad backs. Blast cannons lowered with a metallic whine from pneumatic joints as the cold robotic death squads lost sight of Conaodh as he vanished above into a previously shelled multi-story structure that was weeping duracrete shards and smoke. They continued their advance, the programming directing their forward march already instructing them to look for new targets. Yet as they moved on, one of the large scarab shaped robotic walkers did not, its predatory cybernetic brain unwilling to yield to the commands given to it.C7X9, the designation of that particular X-1 Viper, was a hunter through and through. It had sighted its prey and would not relent until the meat in the beskar clad can was mulched under the foot of its armoured legs. Its two chin mounted laser cannons spat steaming hot intensity blasts of emerald light into the first floor of the building, superheating durasteel beams and forcing ferrocrete to run like a molten river as even that too was slagged. With a metallic shriek it burst its way into the structure, tearing down the first floor ceiling with its heavy front pincers that sheered through support beams like a lightsaber through blue butter in a violent shower of sparks. The entire structure began to rumble as the integrity of its fine engineering began to unravel and degrade.Tadgh faired a bit better. His combined assault of heavy repeater and fired rocket scattered one of the death squads, dropping units as the explosive blast shattered their leg plates and the kinetic force of the explosion crushed the more venerable joints of said limbs. Even broken, these technological weapons of terror knew not when to quit. Those that could still manipulate their mechanical arms crawled over the tortured landscape, ceaseless in their advance, though just as many now sparked as they littered the streets as carbon scored detritus. |
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Oct 19, 2022 20:59:23 GMT -8
The citizen's call from Galaar and Colonel Trifel goes out, and the Mando'ade of Obroa-Skai answer. Though they are now bankers, teachers, bakers, carpenters, butchers, sales representatives or plumbers, all children of Mandalore pass their verd'goten at the age of thirteen, and all remember well the military and survival skills learned during the rite of passage. And so when the call comes, the accountants, students, tailors, shopkeepers, lawyers and waiters emerge from the shelters and take up arms against those that have defiled and befouled the city they call home. They come armored if they can, donning old, worn beskar'gam kept as family heirlooms, or in plastoid replicas of beskar'gam, or they come unarmored, wearing only what gear is available to protect them from the poisoned, lethal air. They come bearing what arms they have in their possession, if any, or they take up the weapons of those that fell defending the city before them, or those of the invaders that lay among the many dead littering the ruined, rubble strewn streets.
Oisin Eldar, the janitor at a local high school serving as one of the city's shelters, leads a rag-tag group composed primarily of students old enough to have completed their verd'goten towards the command center, stopping first at a sporting goods store that is still mostly intact, where they arm and armor themselves as best they can before continuing on towards their objective. As they are moving out from the store, a squadron of enemy troopers retreating for the shuttles waiting for them outside of the city walls rounds a corner and immediately comes under fire from Oisin's band of citizen soldiers. Oisin and a few of the students survive the encounter, only to fall moments later when a unit of enemy mechanical troopers, advancing relentlessly as ordered, comes from behind and mercilessly cuts them down before they have a chance to find cover.
Maeve Awaud, a resident of a senior citizen's home who raised six sons and a daughter that have all died fighting for the Mando'ade, accompanies a small band comprised of other residents of the home and some of the staff, finds herself in charge of the band after they run afoul of a unit of advancing enemy droids that kills nearly all of the staff members before falling to the surprisingly spirited counter attack that the little band of seniors and their caretakers mounts. Maeve gets the remnants of the group to the North Base's command center, but dies soon afterwards as the survivors are rearmed and sent back out to join the defense of the city, a blaster wound in her side exposing her to the toxic air that claims her life as it has and will claim many others before the day is at an end.
Conaodh, upon realizing that the building he had sought refuge on is about to succumb to the laser cannons tearing through its supports, takes to the air and, lowering his targeting rangefinder, sights in on C7X9, and then launches the anti-vehicle homing missile from his Z-6 jetpack towards it. As the loud barking cough accompanying the explosion of the missile sounds out, Conaodh hears the distinctive pinging of blaster fire hitting his right beskar'gam pauldron before he feels the impact, and leans to begin a turn to face the mechanical troopers that are firing at him from below and behind. Before he can complete the turn, however, one of the droids hits one of the jetpack's directional thrusters and sends Conaodh spiraling out of control and into the side of building. Bouncing off of the side of the building, Conaodh tumbles unceremoniously down and into a fortunately situated dumpster that is soon the target of more enemy fire as the droids begin advancing towards it. Fortunately for Conaodh, a group of citizen soldiers led by Eithne Wren, a young librarian, attacks the enemy droids from the side and destroys them all before they have reduced the dumpster, and him, to smoking wreckage. Joining Eithne's band on their advance to the North Base after thanking them for the timely rescue, Conaodh fights with them as they continue onward through the war torn streets.
Tadgh, after coming to the aid of a small group of the city's defense force that had found itself pinned between advancing enemy droids and retreating enemy soldiers, learns from the survivors of Galaar's plan, and then accompanies them as they make for the North Base, keeping to air and, when not engaging enemy forces, scouting ahead to keep them apprised of the movements of enemy forces standing in the way of their objective.
|
|
Harini Bralor
The Mandalorian Assembly
Posts: 165
Affiliation: The Mando'ade
Traffic Light: Green
|
Post by Harini Bralor on Apr 25, 2023 14:22:08 GMT -8
In the immediate aftermath of the attack on Obroa City, the majority of the surviving remnants of Colonel Trifel's forces evacuate the remaining citizens of the decimated and now polluted city to a distant enough location in the grasslands east of the city near the foothills of a mountain range, while a call for aid is sent out to Manda'yaim.
Clan Bralor is the first to respond to the call, swiftly dispatching medics, engineers, and environmental scientists along with medical supplies, food, water and other materials from both Manda'yaim and Agamar to aid in the construction of temporary housing for the survivors of the attack; temporary housing that, given the extent of the damage and pollution of the city and it's ecosystem is almost beyond comprehension, could prove to be needed for a very long time.
Initial assessment of what would be required to make Obroa-City inhabitable again suggests that more than three years is a conservative estimate, with many of the environmental scientists believing that a more sure and efficient response to the attack would be to reduce the city and it's immediate surroundings to glass, then bombard it to create a crater large and deep enough to bury the remains of the city so that it could be built anew. Some Obroans, naturally, argue about the need to preserve what can be salvaged from the city's museums, libraries and computer systems, given that the planet's reputation - developed over centuries - is one of being a vast repository of knowledge, but, tragically, what artifacts, relics and books that survived the attack undamaged are deemed to be irrevocably contaminated, lost now forever. More tragically, the computer system serving as the repository for so much knowledge suffered a vicious viral attack of unknown origin that left little to no hope of recovering what was lost.
While a concerted and exhaustive effort is made to analyze the bodies, weapons, armor, and possessions of the enemy troops felled in the battle is made, and as many damaged droids and vehicles are also examined thoroughly for any intel that might be gleaned from them about the force responsible for the attack, precious little of value is learned beyond the fact that nearly all of the enemy troops were biologically and cybernetically enhanced in some way. Retaliation, were it to be considered, would seem to be out of reach unless the ongoing study and analysis of the enemy bodies and damaged vehicles somehow turns up something that has been overlooked thusfar.
Harini, Tadgh, Ksenia and Abieageal and Conaodh, having all fought on one or more fronts of the battle, remain on Obroa-Skai for several weeks afterwards to lend what help they can to the evacuation and relief effort, working tirelessly to aid their fellow Mando'ade and the native Obroan survivors until some small semblance of stability has been reached before they decide to return to Manda'yaim while the personnel sent by Clan Bralor continue the work remaining to be done.
|
|
