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HC-42, Gwal, Sasha and Leep poured out of the U-wing, landing on the ground of the floating shipyard's top entrance with an audible thud. In HC-42 and Gwal's case, it was a louder thud than usual due to their immense weight. Both left a small crater where they landed, as a matter of fact. They immediately looked around the area for any Sith forces, the battlenet aiding them. Sure enough, a squad of unfamiliar battle droids were guarding the entrance, already alerted to their presence. The four of them dove for cover as they were fired at, Sasha's incredible sharpshooting already allowed her to get an accurate shot off while running. Leep's incredible agility, owed to his cybernetic legs, allowed him to jump towards cover while firing repeatedly at the droids mid-air, though these shots were obviously more haphazard and mainly intended to buy time anyway. Gwal was the slowest of the group, so he fired the most amount of cover fire with his E-22 before finally making it. HC-42 hadn't gotten off a single shot yet- he was more patient than the others. He was behind cover by now, and fired his Heavy Repeating Blaster to send a barrage of laser fire into the midst of the "Deepguard droids," as the battlenet had by now identified. He stopped shortly- the droids were too fortified for that to do any good. "What's the plan here, 42? More of these droids will come." Sasha said, indicating the reality of the situation. "You three keep laying down fire. I need to find an opening in their defense." "What the hell are you going to do!? There's gotta be a dozen droids firing from that entrance! I don't think there IS an opening!" Sasha said. HC-42 thought otherwise. These droids were tough at their current numbers, but squads were always weaker when they had to fight two targets in different locations. "We have to split them up. Gwal, Leep, head for the cover point to the west. We'll cover you. Sasha, stay with me, when Gwal and Leep are behind cover, we're going to try and out-flank them." HC-42 then started firing his heavy repeating blaster again, the intent being to put enough pressure on the droid squad's fortifications at the entrance. If the droids were smart, they'd duck behind their fortifications and not risk firing. If they were stupid, they'd risk damage by continuing to fire, and Sasha could easily hit a target once it popped up, even if HC-42's blasts didn't necessarily destroy the droid. In any case, it would buy enough time for Gwal and Leep to make it to their new position. "Gwal, Leep, now's your chance!" Sasha shouted as she too kept firing. This wasn't exactly like the simulations, but HC-42 had still applied some of what he learned to this. He especially remembered Emma's advice when they fought the Imperial Squire Berea in a surprise test: "Distract and flank!" So that was what he was going to do.

“Mand’alor, we’ve got incoming fighters…” A swarm of crimson signature alerts played across the assassin’s HUD, a myriad of flightpaths all converging on her fleet. With a wave of her hand, the Blackmorne honor-guard had spread out their Bes'uliiks, arming concussion missiles and their countermeasure systems. Terra smiled as her mind passed to blessings and omens assured by her warpriests. Thes’tuvar had cast the bones, scried the stars, and seen victory in the entrails. Her body shivered, remembering the symbols the priest had painted upon her naked flesh. It had been from a mix of ashes of a burnt Galek, mud from the Kelita, nectar of henbane, and her own blood, slit from her tongue. The revolting mixture had symbolized the homeworld of her culture, the strength of bersærkergang, and the words of Kad Ha’Rangir of which flowed from the mouth of Mand'alor. A whispering chorus of discordant voices came from the Hades AVATAR connection, scattering her thoughts and warning her of the oncoming enemy. A pair of enemy missiles began to glow a deep scarlet on her HUD, indicating interception vectors, and the Mandalorian selected a simple chaff countermeasure as she calculated her upcoming maneuvers. The words of the warpriest spilled across her blood-flecked lips, mimicry of his trancelike incantations “Gods crying… Wolves Howling… Jai'galaar shrieking… Giants sleeping…” As red signals of the missiles grew so large as to take up most of her view, she pressed her knees into the saddle, and blinked a command that released a chaff charge. The Bes'uliik bucked as it activated its full reversal engine-block, coming to a full stop, and the war-droid and its rider watched as the missiles intercepted the Chaff which had taken on her vector, stunting the primitive missile targeting computers. The blossoming explosion dazzled the Mandalorian as she kicked the Bes'uliik into a spiraling descent towards the planet. Mand’alor let out an earpiecing shriek of war, for in the echoed explosion she had seen the shadow of the jai'galaar, her symbol of war. Her guard picked up the cry, and soon all the Mandalorian fleet was filled with the shrieks of maddened frenzy. They had tasted battle on Fondor, and it had only whet their appetite. The honor-guard of Clan Blackmorne doggedly followed their Mand’alor as she began a steep descent through the atmosphere, pushing their Bes'uliik to the limits of thermal control through the turbulent approach. Terra’s crimson eyes scanned over the insertion mapping for the Rebel Alliance assault. There was little time for positioning now, any Sith Lords planetside would need to be swiftly engaged or she would watch their head-bounties escape. Hades dove towards the reef-marked sea, his rider entranced by the promises of war. She let her emotions play into the wind, letting every Force User know of her presence. It was a most terrible wound in the force, a ravenous, raw thing that was barely concealed with the frenzy of the bersærkergang.

Mandalore and Raven: Jorus could only watch out the window in shock as the ships appeared. One. Two. Another pair 2 km starboard. Three more just below them, in tight formation even as they dropped out of hyperspace. Again, and again, the stars were blotted out by ships appearing. Not blocky freighters or smooth luxury liners either. Warships. Many of them Mandalorian. Their guns opened fire almost immediately, and fighters and Basilisks spread from them like the wake of a ship, moving to carry out their own attack plans. And then the dreadnought appeared, and Jorus' shock turned to horror. And that horror turned to panic as the massive, infamous star destroyer opened fire with its turbolasers. "No step back, Jorus." The raspy voice of Apothos sounded...calm. If the hitched, rough breathing hadn't filled the silence after the words, Jorus might have mistaken his boss for a droid. Then the call cut out, and the planet's defenders began shouting across comms. Jorus gritted his teeth. And he took command. Fighters launched from their bays, droid and organic pilots alike lining up in dagger formations to dive at the oncoming forces, the green of blaster fire lighting up the starry sky as a dozen different dramas and duels played out in span of seconds. Rising from their berths, two MC140 Scythe-class battle cruisers, fresh armor gleaming from the assembly line and flanked by Tartan patrol cruisers, rotated to face the oncoming trespassers. On their bridges, Mon Calamari pilots and engineers hung suspended in tanks of preservatives and bacta, cybernetics slaving them directly to the ship they now crewed. The Divine Wrath spewed forth carrier pods, the projectiles bursting into clusters of antique buzz droids that tore at any ship they happened to land on. The Divine Edict, far more direct, emitted an emerald glow from a dozen different focusing dishes...before a thin, green-white beam lanced out, seeking to cut the life from any enemy that fell within its gaze. Even as Apothos' pet project ships joined the gray, a set of Captor-class cruisers dropped from hyperspace, their bay doors opening to release dozens of missiles that spiraled out towards a spread of targets. Unwilling to commit all their forces, The House of Strands had only elected to send back two cruisers to fight on Mon Calamari's behalf, but the pair of ships made themselves known. In the skies above Mon Cal, battle was joined. Emma and HC-42: The Deepguard squad took a second to formulate a strategy, their reflexes slowed by the sudden loss of communication with the Central Command Tower. That second cost them two droids. The chassis of the unfortunate pair dropped to the slick, wet metal of the landing zone, smoking holes in their torsos, red photoreceptors blinking out. The remainder of the squad, 11 Soldier units along with 2 Monitors, fell back DG-O37A took command, the Overseer analyzing the situation from a small maintenance closet, reading the visual data from every Deepguard unit in the fight as his mind sorted through standard battle protocols for the optimal combat solution. Evaluating... Classifying capacity of enemy combatants... Weaponry [Light] + [Heavy] detected. [Marksman] detected. Time to reinforcements == [Indefinite] Evaluating... Defensive position untenable! [Command]All units, fall back[/Command] Another two Soldier models dropped as the remainder loped and leaped back through the open loading doors, rather than divide their attention between the rebel forces' twin fronts. Even as his squad retreated, DG-O37A continued his analysis. Tactical Assessment: Enemy Force == [Trained] : [Disciplined] Direct Confrontation == [Suboptimal] Combat Solution determined. [Marksman] and [Heavy Weaponry] less effective in close quarters. [Command]Activate (2) Pacifier Units reserved for Riot Control. Regroup in Primary Loading Bay. Form Defensive Position. Close Loading Door[/Command] As quickly as the droid's mind could parse the data and send out the commands, the large doors that separated the loading bay from the outer platform began to close, slowly as safety protocols required it to. The remainder of the Squad opened fire blindly out the closing door as they moved to new defensive positions inside the loading bay behind piles of durasteel plating, hoping to keep the rebel forces hesitant long enough for them to fortify on their own terms and turn the doorway into a killzone. The shooting withdrawal was textbook and efficient, but standard and uninspired, a maneuver any truly experienced commander could see through. Deeper within the facility, two more Deepguard powered on. Silently, they began running towards the Loading Bay. Alliera and Johan: Navezz sniffed the air. The thin Kubaz had once gagged on the foul sewer air when he'd first arrived, but over the last few weeks his nose had grown accustomed to the stench. No one came down here. No one searched for the lost and the missing down here. Navezz and his crew were left alone down here. Now he smelled something distinctly different. Something besides half-rotted, half-digested fish. People. Navezz chittered, rising from the small, dry alcove looking over the river of sewage below him. From other alcoves, other Kubaz chittered and moved as they picked up the scent. Their words were rapid, but their excitement was clear. People down here meant one thing. Profit. After all...they were slavers. _____________________________________ Navezz and his band moved through the sludge and muck. They held simple, cast-plast clubs, chosen so they wouldn't spark even if they struck metal. They closed on the pair that had caught their attention... Apothos: The Iron Howlrunner dropped through the sky, rocketing over the city darkened in patches, and lit up elsewhere by the flashes of blaster fire. "How dare they?" he hissed. "Master, please state landing zone," the droid pilot chirped. Apothos opened his mouth to say his home, but hesitated. No. This was his world. He would remind them of it. "The Royal Palace. Take me to the Palace. The King and I will have words."

"Right" Johan flicked his head lamp on and followed behind, his energy buckler on and half raised, his DC-17 blaster pistol held up resting his right wrist just in front of the buckler on his left. he wrinkled his nose at the stench but remembered to activate his HUD Goggles and took a quick peak at the map "not far, hopefully the resident Sith has buggered off, to his command room if not the battle proper. As far as loot goes you focus on artifacts and such, I'll grab currency and any rare materials, like lightsaber resistant metal ingots, not that I can carry much of that. split what ever we don't have to hand over to command/the Order once this is over" He said and checked behind them, scanning for movement or cameras/sensors.

The U-Wing rumbled and rocked as Alliera and Johan waited for landfall, the U-Wing was flying as fast as it could towards the ground. They had taken a different landing ship than their Master, that way they could more easily sneak off to do nefarious things, and Kirlocca could focus on doing Jedi Shenanigans. The door opened before they landed, as the Squad Leader started counting down, all the men getting ready. Alliera took this moment to ready her E-22, and patted Johan on the shoulder. "Follow my lead, and try to stay in cover when you can." Alliera said, gesturing to open door "Don't worry about these guys, they know what they're doing, and our Master isn't far behind us." Alliera took a moment to pull open the map she downloaded to her onboard Computer, checking it quickly before dismissing it, quickly giving her a path through the sewer to their target...it also had a few sewer entrances near-ish to their landing spot marked. When the Sargent called for the troops to disembark, Alliera led Johan in charging with them, using her E-22 to help cover to scramble to cover. Consulting her map, Alleira found a sewer entrance, leapfrogging from cover to cover closer to it, guiding Johan there as well as covering him. As the two disentangled from the main fight, Alliera stopped firing, sneaking around cover to cover. When the Manhole in question was found, Alliera opened it quickly and gestured for Johan to enter, once he did, alliera followed and closed the manhole behind them. The sewer was big enough for the two of them to walk, but just barely, and it was poorly lit. Alliera activated her Nightvision. "Activate your lamp, but keep your head on a swivel, we have no idea what's down here." Alliera started guiding them down the sewer, having slung the E-22 over her sholder with one of her bags, and having one of her Westars in her hand.

Emma made sure the drop doors were secured as the shuttles and transports began to drop towards the surface and the floating shipyards. They were going as fast as the engines could propel them in order to get close to the surface before the Sith forces could respond with accurate anti aircraft fire. Sure the shuttles could doge, this U-Wing could do very well in a combat support role, but there was no reason to risk a directly opposed landing. That always ended poorly. “Twenty seconds!” Came the cry of the pilot as he angled towards the nearest shipyard facility. Their objective was to take and hold the entrance to the facility, wait for reinforcements, then push in to seize it completely. Or at least that was the hope. “Ten seconds!” Emma ripped open the door, and the buffeting winds nearly took her off her feet, but her grip held on the frame, and the side gunner adjusted his gun. “Five Seconds.” Her red eyes took in the two squads of men and she nodded. Then her eyelids began to flutter as the net began to be cast to all of them in the dropship. “Go. Go. Go!” The smell of the sea was thick in the air, and it was time to fight.