Corellia

[Moon Knight]

OOC: Not sure what an Iron Demon is, but I'm tired of waiting....

 

IC:

Shab, Fett thought. He had been starting to get used to Arach'tar armor and fighting style, but these new opponents, he realized, were much stronger. They were able to challenge, but not penetrate, his beskar armor with some high-powered blaster rifle, and they appeared to be armed with melee weapons comprised at least partially of energy, rather like a lightsaber.

 

Suddenly pinned against the wall by two of the creatures, ShadowFett did what he did best--improvised with extreme prejudice. Spreading his knees, he gave a blink command directed at a certain portion of the interior of his buy'ce. From the armor on his knees and the launcher hidden partially behind them issued forth two small, thumb-sized grenades. They were packed with the best explosives he could fit in that amount of space--no small part was baradium.

 

As the baradium gave the Arach'tar something to worry about, he quickly popped the climbing spikes out of his kom'rke and slashed the wrists of the creatures pinning him, finding the chink in their armor required by flexibility. He found himself dropping a short distance and two pulse blades and a few high-powered blaster shots hit the wall on either side and above his head.

 

Too close... he thought, rolling off to the side to limit the number of opponents he was dealing with in a given second. The two that had taken grenades were injured but, to their credit, still very much a threat, and the third Arach'tar was at full strength. He quickly grabbed his discarded assault rifle and pulled the trigger, trying to hinder the Arach'tar in some way, but found it was nonfunctional. A split second later, he threw it at the closest opponent and employed his repulsor pack to give a quick boost out of the way of more incoming fire and blades.

 

Grabbing another weapon, his Tenloss disruptor rifle, ShadowFett pulled the trigger twice before the Arach'tar closed with him--the last Arach'tar. The other two had been completely disintegrated by the extremely powerful weapon. A turn of the head and backwards lean saved his life. K'oyacyi, Fett, the experienced warrior thought, dropping his disruptor and rolling backward for another look at his opponent and its pulse blade. It was one of the opponents he had injured, he knew, and so it was forced to favor its right side--and the gaping wound there.

 

It closed with him again, and he anticipated its movement based on what he had seen thus far--he ducked and slipped forward and right a step, towards the Arach'tar's wounded side and inside the arc of its attack. His phrik vibroblade seemed to leap into his hand and he slid it upwards into the wound, so it penetrated deep into the being's core.

 

A sense of satisfaction flickered briefly through the hunter as the last Arach'tar fell. A challenge, Fett conceded. These were why he trained endlessly, why his whole life was devoted to combat--he loved the challenge. It was his livelihood. And only when all things ceased to challenge him would his training be complete--and if he ever reached that point, the universe would turn out to be nothing more than a disappointment.

[Exodus]

• One-Two, Buckle my shoe

Anaesthetized simulacrums; I watched bullets burrow hard and fast into the thick of their rotten skin. Their focus did not shutter for a moment, not even a breadth of a second to realize that their anatomical structure was now hampered and their fluids leaked all over their own bio-structures in plain view. The one before me had no chance; both halves of him toppled over as the teeth of the chain-axe trawled the flesh on his back, ploughed through his spine, and then sent his metallic ribcage peeling out of his body. How delightful, my turn.

 

Exodus then pulled a black cloth on his wrist loose and allowed the fabric to unbuckle. The black cloth slithered and unreeled until a retracted claw, neat as a new pin, was unearthed and shone with brilliance. He whipped his left hand to the side and the claws slid out and into their locked position; stretching from his forearm to inches passed his fingertips. The spill of cloth still hung there at the neck of his wrist and now served as little more than sinister flair to his outfit. The Void Demons moved closer and closer now, insensitive to the wounds that boiled in their backsides. Each of them slow and calculated now, as to expect him to surrender without the use of the Force. ”œTch'.”

[fuzzy_ewok]

While hollowing out a giant tree, strapping in a rocket engine, and hurtling through space might not be the wisest course of action for most sentient species, the Ewoks of what was once the Forest Moon of Endor were not most sentient species. Having been thrust into a dead zone of space with freezing cold, it offered some merit, allowing them the opportunity strip off and burn the interior of their own ships for warmth.

 

This in turn caused a significant percentage of the Ewok fleet to either burn to death in a fire of their own making, or get sucked out of the somehow airtight interiors into the vacuum of space. The battle of Little Big Horn, a long time into the future in a galaxy far, far away was starting to look like military brilliance in comparison.

 

The remainder of the fleet musters enough momentum to get through and turn about, aided by damage to the field caused by damage to the station and Arach'tar fleet by other, more erstwhile and capable tacticians. In turn, they carried on, reaching the station and commenced their great attack, launching lasers, wooden arrows, and giant rocks, even kazekaming into Centerpoint.

 

After a slended six minutes of very indulgent self-annihilation, 6 ships "land" in the interior of Centerpoint, finding an area that is, according to their sensors, safe to do so, and three score of rabid, frenzied Ewoks, armed with large axes, knives, and spears dismount, ready for battle, weapons swinging and ready to bring their communist, neo-ludite philosophy to home with the blades of their heavy, flesh-rending weapons.

[Gren Sairdonga]

Gren watched as the hangar bays grew larger. His grip on the overhead guide rail tightening. Centerpoint really was gargantum. The Alliance General had no real idea how many friendly and enemy troops were inside battling away but the companies he brought would surely bolster the numbers. Especially with all their survival gear. As their transport. The lead in their convoy finally entered the hangar bay Gren swore. Corpses were lying at intervals. It looked like the Arach'tar had put up a fight at the bulkheads that led further into the station. Effectiveely creating a bottleneck that had by all appearances been costly to break.

 

As the transport set down with a muffled clunk. Its clearing laser cannons swivelling too and fro, searching for any enemy Gren made final checks on his life support systems and suit integrity. Nodding once to the Alliance Field Commander who had come to stand besides him they lowered the boarding, or in this case exiting ramp. He stepped forward as it opened smoothly. It was an old tradition for the leader to be first down and last out. Gren had no real idea where it came from nor did he care. It suited him fine. As he moved down the ramp, his sensory equipment, inbuilt into the suit scanning for any living presence. Nothing close though their were life signs further along the main corridor leading from the hangar. Life and fighting. Gren had no need of enhancing equipment to hear the fighting. Blaster shots and the screech of metal on metal rang out throughout the hangar.

 

Using his datapad to tap into his shuttles commincations array Gren recorded two messages. One was sent to Admiral Starlisk. An update. IT said nothing more then the troops had landed in the station and were begining their advance. The second was to any and all Alliance soldiers within the station. Help was here with survival gear and medical supplies. With that Gren signalled the Commander to begin pushing forward. The man knew the route as well as Gren did. Leading a second team Gren went out one of the other corridors. It wasn't the best idea to split their forces. But with one team securing the hangar. Another taking the main corridor to the battle. Gren's team would secure a flank. The other flank being occupied by Imperial troops. Suppressing a grin as battle fervour washed over him Gren stayed clear headed. he couldn't let his sense go. He didn't just fight. He led.

[Cadio Sikaot]

Sikaot sat in the command chair aboard the Paragon silently contemplating the battle that was still unfolding all around them and there was nothing he could do in the least. Rebel troops led by men like General Saridonga and Sgt. Slaughter were making headway in the station, but not near as much as they would have against normal troops. The fleet was fighting a losing war against what seemed like an impenitrible force.

 

The same young Lt came rushing up wth another printout of their objective. It seemed that the shield ships would not fall. They were slowly falling off line after the repeated beating that the Alliance fleet was handing out, but at this rate they could last for days, and the Alliance just could not have that. It was not an option. There had to be another way, but there wasn't. Until the zero shields were down it was up to the boarding teams to do the work. It made him feel so...helpless. He needed something, anything to do. How he missed the days when he could run head first into a battle where he probably should have been killed but wasn't.

 

"Thank you lieutenant. You can return to your station now, and don't bring any more of those reports until you actually have something to report. Every one of these in the past hour has said the exact same thing."

 

The lieutenant nodded crisply before spinning and returning to his station. He looked back at his display as another blue blip winked out of existance, overrun by Arach'tar warships. What could possibly go wrong next?

[Dagon]

OOC((Ok, so here's the situation. From this point on, Aryian will be posting responses to Deton and Slaughter, our guest will be responding to Moon Knight and Gren, and I'll be handling Exodus, Black, and Nhagathul. As far as the Iron Demons, I made the mistake of thinking they had already been explained since Deton knew what they were. They are essentially Arach'tar elite, equivilant in fighting skill to a Jedi or Sith master PC. They have four arms, doubling the complement of weapons they carry, and have armor stronger than mandalorian steel. With the exception of Slaughter, who is fighting regular NPCs, you should treat them as PCs in extended combat. On a side note, its easier to reach me with PMs if you PM my main account, since I only log on to SID to post.))

[Sakuda Iron demon]

Tribulation

 

Perhaps these were the ones. There was only one way to find out, and if they weren't, it would be over quickly. Drawing his swords casually, Sakuda approached icons of the Sith and the Empire. Powerful energies, emmanating from the ancient artifact the Vestum, caused the very space around Sakuda to distort and twist unnaturally. He adopted a defensive stance while gesturing for the pair to attack him.

 

Either make this interesting, or make it quick. I may have a great deal of ground to cover today.

 

One of his opponents was the so called Dark Lord of the Sith, a man given to illusionry and stealth, while the other was a warrior king of sorts for the most powerful race in the galaxy. Whether either of them deserved their titles was yet to be seen.

----------------------------------------------------------

 

Matching will for will, Rev'Nullem responded to Nhagathul's blast with an attack of his own, meeting her halfway with an arc of silvery energy that collided with her attack in a contest of spiritual might.

 

They'll only betray you in time, Nhagathul. Usurp you as you once usurped the old gods. A machine galaxy would be free of such ambitions, but the organics claim all power they find for themselves. You will become a casualty to their desires if you do not help me destroy them.

[Ary the Grey]

((Deton))

 

Shots rang out and three soldiers fell from his ranks, railgun sniper fire from down a corridor as the group was rushed by another platoon of Arach'tar, this time led by a well armored elite Iron Demon armed with two heavy repeaters on his bottom arms and two wicked looking bastard swords on his upper arms.

 

The skirmish began as grenades were thrown...

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

((Slaughter))

 

Unfortunately for the troops infiltrating the station, they had stumbled across the incendiary and explosives ordinance elite reserves of the Arach'tar. Two missiles were fired down the hallway of the door that just exploded inwards, and two heavy turrets began winding up in the far corners of the large room. More small arms fire rained down upon their soon to be withered forces, and it was easy to see hell was upon them.

 

((Apologies for the short posts, still getting a feeling for the battle scenarios, I promise the next post for both of you will be larger))

[Deton]

The deaths of the two hulking beats provided adequate cover for the rest who hadn't been immediately taken down by the rail gun fire. Like a well train unit they found cover in the most unlikely positions. Ignoring their fallen comrades, as they knew there would be more to fill in the gaps. It was simply what a stormtrooper was trained to do.

 

Deton paused mid strike as he hunkered down one of the fried Iron Demons. He spied one of his fallen comrades across the way and an idea came to him. Yet before he could implemented it he heard the very chilling words.

 

”œGRENADE!”

[Exodus]

• Do you forget? You are unlike the others. You never once needed to tell them that, that you were better. You showed them. You showed them why you are the best. Leave the flashiness behind, let these rookies have their two seconds of fame.

 

The austere utterance was not a voice of his nor was it anothers'. So smooth-tongued, neatened and trimmed with a fleece of lavish as if he had spoken them himself, but he didn't. The quiet avowal stole the vehemence from Exodus and left him numb and frozen before he could march a second step. The Emperor traced his steps as well, but both kept a careful distance from one another.

 

 

• Yeah, yeah.

 

He flashed a quick surveillance to the man behind him and then lifted the laden hood over his head like wildfire. Black couldn't even fathom the anathematic semblance that thickened into the inches of his contours. Before it became obvious, he repossessed his powerful furtherance. With a draft of slow-footed wind, Exodus' cloak-mantle fluttered lawlessly as he pushed into untried death-strewn halls. Black leather spilled out onto the flawless canvas of steel and blood as he traveled and his boots, like quill and ink, mixed and painted as he moved exquisitely.

 

His course was not blind despite his quick pace””He could feel the creature. Whatever the power was, Exodus could feel the aura clash with his and the two could never co-exist. Exodus pulled to the left, heeding a noise, his eyes only met with the gone astray dust of a weapons stand collapsing in on itself. He bellyached and brought his treasonous stare quickly towards the end of the bend. The ship rocked once more; out of the thousands it had endured already and then as the picture returned to focus””the control room blast doors. Only the perverted smile on his face could be distinguished now as the darkness shrouded what was left. One foot moved forward now, slowly. As his boot touched the floor, the ship rocked yet again but now Exodus' echoed. Literally, his entire body seemed to wobble into several repetitions. He would step, and three others would echo from his form and follow suit in the same instance.

 

 

• The doors opened.

[BLACK1]

Not a word was spoken between the two the final stretch to the control room. None was needed. They knew what had to be done; words would only bring confusion or doubt. The scattered pieces of flesh and the slowly coagulating blood that painted the floor and walls didn't bother Black as he followed safely behind the Dark Lord, nor did he take any particular pleasure in the sight. It was merely a byproduct of war, nothing more, nothing less. To see it as anything else brought about delusions to a warrior's mind. A hazy trail of cobalt blue smoke trailed them as they walked on, Black no longer caring if they were followed. There was no way to mask their trail of violence, so there was no reason he couldn't leave behind his cigarette's faint odor. At the door, the pair stopped in unison. Black found himself studying the framework around the door, figuring out how much explosives would be necessary to open it before he caught his companion out of the side of his sunglasses. With each step towards the door, Exodus seemed to break apart, each shadowed copy of himself scratching towards the door before accepting their chains to the original form. And then...the door opened.

 

Fricken religious nuts. He thought as he took the final drag of his cigarette, discarding it carelessly to the floor. If it weren't for his condition, he'd have watched what he even thought around the Sith, but with the utter lack of connection to anything else in the galaxy Black had found he had been given a form of freedom. He stepped through the doorway, careful not to spread his soulessness to Exodus. Once inside, Black could see his target, standing casual with swords drawn. But something was wrong with him. Like Exodus, the creature's form didn't seem to want to sit still. Without taking is eyes off of the enemy, Black whispered to Exodus, keeping his voice low and his tone smooth.

 

"Hukaat'kama, vod."

 

He calmly set his long black steel case beside him before unsheathing his chainaxe. Axe in one hand, strung carelessly over his shoulder, the other idly by his side Black began to walk toward Sakuda, his stride steady and soft, his free hand rising to remove his sunglasses before reaching his target. Ten feet between them, Black stopped, his bright green eyes meeting Sakuda's own.

 

"I looked your god in they eye once. You know what I saw?" His free hand moved up to his mouth, a lit cigarette on his lips when it fell back in place at his side. A harsh cloud of blue smoke escaped his nostrils, but their eyes remained locked. "Fear."

[Nhagathul]

Nhagathul, in all her ancient mysticism, held her own against Rev'Nullem's rebuttal. This would go no where, of course. Two gods such as they locked in battle would continue for eternity if need be. There power was well matched, virtually peaked, if it were possible. There was little one could do to seriously harm the other.

 

If I had felt your opinion was something worthy of my attention, I'd have joined you from the beginning. However, since you're perhaps even more stupid than the day we began our path of immortality, even still I cannot take any value in what you say.

 

At once her form coalesced in the echo of a single heartbeat, directly behind Rev'Nullem. Her hands rose to take hold of his shoulders, and with her grip a black morass seemed to wither its way from her mouth and eyes, taking hold of his wrists and throat. The thick, viscous material seemed to be completely bereft of light, almost consuming all that came upon it, seen only by the fact that it devoured the light from the very stars themselves in the background. Tight the twisted tendrils ran, feeding on all force around it. The more Rev'Nullem would call upon the darkness to aid him, the more his shackles would feed.

 

And if you honestly think I have anything to fear from these insects, then you have truly fallen. Either into madness or out of power, of which I am uncertain, but it is looking like a little bit of both.

[Exodus]

• End of the Line
  ShadowFett

 

 

After the last unit fell limp to the floor, a small rattle let loose a lone creature from the rafters above. From it, an observant creature lurched. The metal that composed him was more refined and seemed burned with a darkened hue unfamiliar to the rest of the Crusaders seen thus far. He was much swifter than the rest as well as he crashed with his pulse phase sword lit wildly in the air. His hammer-fall downward swipe smashed and melted into the disrupter rifle functions before he pounced off towards the occupied Hunter. His movements were more sporadic, and much less calculable to the aided eyes. He hopped back and forth between the spread of the hall before it was clear that the brazen mechanism upon his arm filtered with a familiar chemical compound. His arm lifted and shot out towards the stilled Hunter. There was no motion for the Hunter to move forward as a balloon of intense heat now melted their immediate difference in space and then some.

 

Furthermore, the Hunter had been calculated this entire time and the sacrifices spilled before were mere tools for a more desirable outcome. Therefore, as if on queue, the rest of the squad pulled from the Hunters' rank further down the hall and unleashed a broadside of blaze of their own to seal him in. Their bucket helmets could penetrate the thick flame and watch the burn with their sensory vision. Also, their phase swords were readied down the extent of their forearm in-case the man could somehow administer the flesh-devouring flame that now crept up his cratered armour from all achievable directions. Still; a low rumble was heard that traced the communications of the affianced Crusader squad. Someone still stalked their prey.

[Gren Sairdonga]

Leaning back against the wall Gren breathed hard. The atmosphere in here was hot. Despite the survival gear. He could only guess at what the poor beggars without suits on were going through. So far he and his men had evacuated a platoon plus worth. But it was not enough. Their were far more Alliance troops in this station then that. He almost found himself wishing he believed in some diety so he could pray for their safety.

 

"Sir. Enemy activity rising. We're taking casualties but not many yet. We're holding our own. Those damned explosions seemed to have disrupted their fighting abilities as much as ours."

 

Gren turned to the captain who had just talked to him. He couldn't see anything behind the mans faceplate but he recognised the voice. A good man. He'd fought besides Gren before. But he knew how Gren felt. Any casualties were bad.

 

"Order anyone in contact to suppress the enemy and pull back. We do not engage until we are consolidated. If they attack it'll be in a corridor of our choosing. Not theres."

 

Moving forward Gren inspected the corridor. It was strewn with rubble. Mostly consisting of bits and pieces of various former life forms but the bombs had done a fair amount of structural damage too. Looking at the medic he waited. Finally the man got up from where he was tending a soldier they'd found unconcious.

 

"Dead sir. Or will be soon. Spines snapped, massive internal Hemorrhaging. Broken organs and about half a meter of steel in him. Nothing I can do about that. I'm surprised he has any life signs at all. Already administered the kill shot. Be dead in seconds if not already."

 

Nodding sadly Gren moved to the front of the line. That was all their was to consolidation in this case. Checking the survivors found to see if they could be recovered. It was slow going. They were finding many. Few who would live. It had became apparent that the medics would have to judge on their own whether to apply a killshot. Their were many soldiers too wounded to survive. But not wounded enough to die quickly and painlessly for Gren to decide in all cases. If they could be moved they were. If not. Hiss went the needle.

 

Signalling the advance Gren moved his column forward. Trusting to his second to make sure the main column knew they were once again on the move. If either force got engaged, the other could move in and flank them. If they both got engaged, it was simple work to withdraw and meet up. Their were some downsides to this formation but in this facility they didn't have much choice. Being part of the advance guard for the flanking force probably wasn't the best place for a General. It was in fact the highest likely place for an enemy counterattack and the first to get overrun in the even of one. But he needed to be in the thick of it. How could he look his men in the eye if he ordered them into something he would not go himself.

 

As he walked Gren's eye unconciously saw movement. Before he had even registered it he was diving and firing. Swearing Gren concentrated on the front. The two scouts were baltting away with their rifles. Even as they did so a flash of movement showed through the fumes and shadows.

 

"What do we got Manix!"

 

Gren yelled out as a barrage of fire forced him to duck his head low behind a piece of what looked like a desk. Even as a trio of other troopers returned fire.

 

"Four, possibly five crusaders. Might be more out there we haven't seen boss."

 

Swearing Gren decided on a quick plan. Signalling to the man next to him he rolled over and around. Even as laser fire criss crossed the corridor. Looking back he saw a bipod heavy blaster being set up in what appeared to be the remains of a floor lighting emplacement. Even as he watched fire arced out from it. Sheer volume effectively suppressing the enemy.

 

"Fire and move down the corridor. At ten meters engage with grenades! Assualt is left going down. Scouts your Center, gun is right. Assualt go."

 

With a roar the men around Gren, him included surged up and darted three paces or so down the corridor. Bedding down amidst the myriad of rubble. Maneuvering amongst the knee high garbage strewn all over the place for fire positions. Once in place they put down fire to keep the enemy heads down. It was leap frog basically. Exhausting. Slow. Dangerous if done improperly. But trained and hardened soldiers made it an art form. Ammo discipline being the key. Raising his head and popping off three shots at what appeared to be the corpse of half a devarionian on top of a a chunk of metal. Covering two of the crusaders some hundred meters or so down the corridor Gren swore again.

 

He hadn't wanted to engage the enemy until the two forces met up but the only linking causeway the schematics he'd managed to get his hands on was a klick down the corridor. Besides the makers of Centerpoint had made such lovely huge corridors. And the makers of the explosion had made it a virtual infantry playground as far as cover went. Why not use it?

[Moon Knight]

OOC: I can understand that you like to take poetic license, Exodus, but I would rather have a post that's easy to understand than one that's an artistic read. I had to read your post three or four times to understand what's going on, and even now I'm not positive.

 

IC:

As the tracyn angled in on ShadowFett from all directions, he reacted with the haste that the situation demanded, not spending any time in thought, but reacting with trained timing and an excellent--if obvious--escape maneuver. A thrust from his rocket pack caused him to leap above the flames, sheathing again the phrik vibroblade he had used to kill his last opponent.

 

Things got hot as he avoided the worst of the flames by going up, and he immediately broke into a sweat as he maneuvered away from the squad of regular Arach'tar soldiers and towards the newer, less predictable one. He was sure to position his landing so that the elite was between him and the squad, cutting off their cleanest attack angle.

 

Immediately in his hands was his assault rifle, and he opened fire at close range at the dark Crusader before him. He wasn't surprised when it leapt out of the way--the direction and angle of the leap weren't quite expected, but he was really only counting on the fact that a jump would take place. Now he spread his fire through the ranks of the lesser soldiers on the other side, keeping his head facing forward as he destroyed several of the chakaare.

 

He didn't have much time before the elite came down behind him. Although he appeared to be at unawares, his 360-degree vision made such impossible, and he dropped with precise timing as a pulse blade passed through where his head would have been. He gave another quick boost from his rocket pack to get a little distance, then tossed a thermal detonator at the regulars he had already thinned. They weren't able to clear the baradium blast in time, and now Fett again faced a single opponent.

 

A single opponent who, perhaps, was a worthy challenge. "Su'cuy," he said, the word used as a greeting even more appropriate when speaking to an opponent in the middle of combat. He opened fire again, firing not only at the creature to get it to move, but directing his shots at slight, random angles so that more efficient dodges might fail and the thing would have to be even more maneuverable than it was typically.

 

That would keep it from closing with him in melee. And if it managed to get close, he had his rocket pack primed for a quick jump to get clear. He was quick enough and his beskar'gam tough enough to take all but the most hearty of ranged assaults, too, so he could hold out and claim victory in this fashion before too long.

[Exodus]

(OOC: Jesus christ. You would rather? I can't tell if you're actually being serious or not, but I don't ever recall having to dumb down my posts for a single person in this role-play whether they liked it or not. What you do, is bring out a thesaurus/dictionary and then put two and two together and if you make a mistake; congratulations, you're human. If you can't, ask for help. Honestly Ian, I don't care how many times you have to read it man. I shouldn't have to cater to a person who would rather openly dismiss my style of role-play instead of simply trying to communicate with me beforehand. However, I can be nice from time to time, so here's to almighty Ian.)

 

 

Two died and one Crusader was left, with ease. The Hunter was more than triumphant. The last Crusader awaited his celebrated leader to move into position and prompt the plan. No, not a complicated plan””just a surprise. So, the Crusader stood with his mind blank as the bullets hit his armour and dropped to the floor. Hooray. To clarify for those less capable of doing so; the bullets weren't suffice enough to penetrate their metallic frames. So he stood, still and waited. For sure now that it was mentioned, the Hunter would sense their leader in wait for he was keen and efficient. Still, he stood with two feet on the floor and his bucket helmet concentrated on the lull of the man before him. Lull as in respite, and respite as in you're having a breather. Oh, and now the Crusader withdrew his repeater weapon and traded his own charged slugs towards the Hunter. Lacklustre is fun.

 

 

(Oh and, no bad blood to be honest. I could care less, but when you're ready to role-play let me know. I do have AIM like the common folk here, I don't bite.)

[Moon Knight]

The attack worked out better than Fett had perceived that it would, and the Arach'tar fell. He had known that it would attempt to be unpredictable, but he didn't expect such to extend to inaction. I guess occasionally even the Arach'tar are mir'osik under pressure, Moon Knight concluded.

 

Still, these opponents were a far step above the rabble he usually found himself battling. Their high-powered weapons meant he was threatened more than typical, and, though he did not fear a great challenge, there was a difference between being atin and being a di'kut. It would be prudent to join up with the jetiise or whoever else he could find.

 

ShadowFett made his way quickly to the nearest lift, still listening in on Alliance chatter. It seemed they were trying to evacuate but battling Crusaders as they did so. Evacuate, now? Fett thought, disgusted. Onward, then. He would just be a little more careful.

 

With a Westar blaster pistol, he shot out a grate used for heating and cooling. He would take an alternate route deeper towards Centerpoint's command center, using his penetrating radar to warn him of approaching enemies and his infrared setting to warn him of other potential problems. He pulled himself into the conduit and began a long crawl aided in no small measure by his repulsor pack.

[Ary the Grey]

((Deton))

 

Azak'thul hissed as his snipers were dispatched almost too easily by two larger looking armored units (Though a closer glance revealed several weak points about their fuel packs). They had been his support team, and now they were gone. Only a few of his troops had fallen to the rocket they had fired down the hallway, something that they obviously expected to have more of an effect than it did, and now were making up for it with suppressive fire. But the Iron Demon had had enough of these games...it was time to get serious.

 

"Shiiields!"

 

Ray shields sprang up seconds after a few blaster shots struck through, the explosive Ion energy hitting two more of his elites, electrical energy sizzling over their insulated armor, causing them minor damage.

 

"Retreeaat back to Braaavo point. It'sss time to let them knoow why the Arach'taaaar are to be feeeaared."

 

As one, the group pulled away from the ray shields, abandoning the emitters and moving further back down the hallway, leaving their previous cover for the taking.

[Deton]

The ability to appear out of nowhere, as if they are phasing from the wall, the increases in attack size, the ambush points. Seems like some one has a bead on my position.

 

He watched the enemy fall back and held up his own nova's from moving forward. Any one who had ever watched a single holoflick, would tell you advancing as the enemy falls back only causes the pursuiter pain and suffering, unless he has completely routed the enemy.

 

Given the general nature of the bigger warriors with the four arms so far. It was safe to say that they weren't falling back because they were afraid of him. Though the ability to demolish a platoon did have a certain fear factor to it.

 

”œHold fire.”

[Sgt. Slaughter]

Bruce's eyes didn't even have a chance to widen before the missiles struck, a punishing wave of fire coming in its wake.

 

One of them directly impacted against one of the two surviving Wolf Spiders. It went down with an ultrasonic howl, half of its metal body literally ripped away from its front in a shower of debris that left scars in the armor of the fighting men behind it. And yet”¦ even with its hind legs rolling away several meters behind it and its main power supply irreparably damaged, it fought on, blasting away at one of the two turrets with a crippling barrage of anti-droid fire. However, it clearly didn't have much longer to live; in an effort to preserve its sparse energy reserves, its crawling movements towards the enemy were growing more and more sluggish, and its fire less accurate and more dependent on sheer volume as it began shutting off its sensors and relied only on targeting data from its brother.

 

The other was more lucky””more lucky than a soldier behind it. The missile that targeted it simply caromed off its side”¦ and literally decapitated a Talon that was a little slow in taking cover. It exploded”¦ somewhere behind their column, sending delivering its payload somewhere where it could do no harm to Captain Slaughter's men.

 

The Wolf Spider was unfazed. It sprang forward into the gap in the compromised blast door. It refused to compromise its position and take cover, instead holding its ground and trading salvoes with the remaining turret and the other Arach'tar soldiers. The soldiers behind it didn't need to hear its encouragement; as incoming fire ricocheted and absorbed into its rapidly diminishing shield, they immediately understood that it was sacrificing itself so the more vulnerable firepower of its organic squadmates could approach without being gunned down by the remaining turret.

 

There was another rush of air and a flash of light as the Talons filed against the remains of the blast door; it at least managed to get off another missile before they came charging in, immediately deploying a number of grenades into the opposing cover before they took up whatever cover they could find. Even the burned-out husk of the fallen Wolf Spider””it had been reduced to smolders mere seconds after his elite soldiers burst into the nondescript room””was put to good use. The armor of its torso served as an improvised base of fire for one of his automatic riflemen.

 

Still, Bruce had to admit to himself that he was shocked at how few of his men had survived the last few minutes. Looking back behind him”¦ he could see the trail of armored bodies and droid-men that they had left behind. He blind-fired around the doorframe that he took cover behind, using his rifle's link to his goggles to fire with some accuracy. Someone was yelling about incoming reinforcements from the Prometheus””he didn't catch the unit's name, as another grenade drowned out the shouting of the communications officer and nearly deafened him.

 

Hopefully, they were close. With the loss of his two remaining Wolf Spiders and a significant number of his soldiers, what had previously been a unyielding wave of destruction turned into a force that was fighting a grim stalemate.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

The evacuation of the Prometheus was completed. Its captain said his final farewells to a steadfast ship that had seen him through the worst of this battle, and would have continued serving faithfully had it not been for some punk Arach'tar hacker. Still, even its death would deal a significant blow to the enemy; it had been set to self-destruct in such a manner to cause maximum collateral damage. Its engines and power cores were set to overload and destroy themselves; the remaining ammunition caches were pushed out towards Centerpoint station and programmed to self-destruct; and all its showers and caf dispensers were set to scalding.

 

And lastly, the Hammer of God was informed of the development and subsequently prepared to fire four more rounds into the coming breach.

 

The boarding parties that were closest to the breach that the Prometheus had parked in were practically tripping over themselves in their efforts to get clear of the incalculable blast radius.

[Onderin Starlisk]

Aboard the Paragon, Onderin continued to pace, waiting for some clear signal that the battle was going to end before both sides' fleets were reduced to rubble. There were teams aboard Centerpoint station, but he needed them to reach the command center and take control or disable it. Things out here weren't going too poorly, he supposed, but if Nhagathul was unable to defeat Rev'Nullem, the battle would be over.

 

Now the Admiral could only wait and continue to coordinate the huge Alliance fleet against the Arach'tar defending the station. If a perimeter could be secured, it would only be an amount of time before Centerpoint would similarly be overcome.

[Yue]

While more than a fare share of chaos, battle, and noise rattled the station in the halls near the far side of center point that had been laid to waste from a series of explosions. Imperial and alliance bodies lined floor for a moment before they were called back to serve once more. Metal clanked as bodies dredged along. These boring machine bodies littered the hall. Their false god had failed them and had only granted them one thing”¦Failure.

 

One goal was on the mind of the only living thing among the group of those of the fallen. Center. Due to the shaking and rumbling of the station it was clear that the combined forces that have gathered still have not gained control of the station. The empire and the Alliance still hasn't taken that vital piece of ground, but where they have failed he would do everything in his power to make sure these machines ceased to function.

 

His small group of undead met only the occasional crusader. They were easily dispatched due to the fact that they were unaware for the moment at least of a sith in this boarding party. That small edge had been enough to keep the ambushes quick and easy. The task would be soon complete as long a steady pace was maintained.

 

Halting at a check point referring to a holo map detailing where he was in reference to central command. Ichi spoke to his master.

 

”œWe are three-fourths of the way their. We have surprising met little resistance. We should proceed with caution as the empire and the alliance have both seemed to let us slip through and we sure to trigger the internal traps and measures that been put into place for the people who attempt to take the command center.”

[Ary the Grey]

((Deton))

 

The Arach'Tar were annihilated before they even knew what hit them, something that rarely happened to their kind. And assuredly, it wouldn't happen again. Charges were blown on the main door to the control room, sealing the massive blast door shut. If they wanted to blast in a hole with another turbolaser shot, they'd also likely cripple the very systems they were trying to gain control of. And the door was much too thick for the spacetrooper torches to cut through...time was running out as the sound of reinforcements echoed from far off, whispers of clawed metallic feet slithering through the hallways to bring the hell that was Arach'Tar upon these infidels.

 

Of course, there were a few remaining guards outside the room, and they set up position nearby. But six grunts weren't a force worthy of holding off the Empire for long, everything came down to the race for reinforcements.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

((Slaughter))

 

The hellfire rained down upon the Alliance troops like the Devil himself had deigned to come up off his throne and purge them. Incendiary grenades, antipersonnel missiles, the remaining turret...it was as if a storm raged inside the room that held them, charred blood slathering across the wall as if it were butter across bread.

 

And if one were looking, they'd see one of the Arach'Tar grunts running slowly at them, heavily armored but carrying something very large on its back. Very large...and very spiky. Things were about to get hairy.

[Deton]

Their military training and their desire to put the mission above all else, rolled through opposition. It was a lesson the six defenders of the control room sound found out as they met a force more terrifying than most could imagine. The average stormtrooper was an elite solider. An extension of the emperor's will and through that extension expendable. There was always another stormtrooper to fill the gaps in stormtrooper files. In that they were a force more terrifying than a suicidal bomber or a massive machine that could destroy worlds. They were a force that had absolutely nothing that would stop them. Absolutely loyal to their cause they were elite troopers the best in the galaxy, winning ground engagements with ease, ye they were also in a way suicidal in their own disregard for their lives.

 

It is a common fact that no being wants to die, and being will do everything in their power to deny death. The fact that the stormtrooper will ignore that desire for the sake of the mission makes them a force that defied nature. Throwing themselves into harms way with out hesitation to preserve their mission they a horrible enemy to ever have to face.

 

Yet even though they were the best in the galaxy there were those in their ranks that outshone even their performance as a whole. They were special troopers. Nova troopers were among that group. Their infiltration of the area was silent and swift. There had been thirty nine nova entered on the station. They had all started at the same point, and had taken different routes to reach the control room. Breaking down themselves down into teams, each eight man patrol had found their way in one form or another. They had settled into positions and awaited the confirmation to open fire upon the last of the enemy defenders, barring them from their goal.

 

That confirmation came in the form of Deton, the fortieth member of this deployed unit. Dressed in all white he brought in the confirmation.

 

”œGrenade out!”

[Exodus]

• I Dare You
  Moon Knight

Alone, a mastodonic warrior stood evanescent to all”” Not even Commander Sakuda could chart his defiant mind. The room was painted black, clouded with a blossom of coolant chemical smoke which did well to favour the fiendish panorama he surrounded himself in. He was an Iron Demon, christened as Rak'mor, the Devourer of Dusk and Dawn. As he stood drenched inside the warmth of loneliness, he knew he had conquered the Hunter who had been swollen and blinded with pride. This was his pleasure.

 

Another Arach'tar who was discounted for, the one who had just stood and accepted the rounds of fire from the Hunter, and had fallen as a result now shifted soon after the Hunter had made his leave. The accumulation of machines and bio-mechanisms that fuelled and functioned his frame now pushed him to rise from the rather pathetic offensive that was thought to end him right there and then. His feint for death wasn't calculated as a worthwhile manoeuvre but was rather low-chance; however, because of the excessive carelessness shown, it succeeded. He wasted no time to skitter off and complete his windfall orders. The creature whimpered and mumbled on with excited thrill and passed on the critical notice to the two from the regiment who hadn't shown themselves thus far.

 

• --

Rak'mor could hear him now, this was his masterpiece, and he could hear it hum true. The six thick tentacles that sheathed his barbaric face rose with puppeteer-like motion and swallowed more keen information for his senses. The Hunter was close now; the fool's metallic armour panged gently off of the thick alloy that this narrow two-way ventilation was composed of; this made is so simple to trace his movement even further. However, as he continued forward, as was the only direction towards the Control Room, he came closer to the man in the middle of room. Rak'mor was now lowered with all four massive arms braced against the cold temperate floors. The coolant and the chemicals that ran through this chamber disguised everything within, and only helped to shelter the advanced stealth-unit that sheathed the Great Devourer.

 

At first it sounded off as a rat would when it scurried between the shades of dark. But now, from the trace of the Hunters' travel, a Crusader with a small but stout barrel strapped to his back crawled with rampant and incredible speed down the powerful ventilation. He squealed as he drew closer like he had been sickened with madness; his haste didn't cease and there was no way to pass his thick outline. A flood of foul-stench liquid swept under the both of them in the meantime as if barrels and barrels of it had been shoved into this narrow ventilation purposely. The second it all happened, it became obvious that there was no escape for either creature; The Arach'tar Crusader or the Mandolorian Hunter. The Crusader leaped towards the Hunter in his last stride and then a massive eruption of flame lit the gallons of napalm to life.

 

Rak'mor listened still”” their torment fulfilled him.

[Dagon]

Revelations

 

”œI have no gods, only demons. None of it ever meant anything.”

[Moon Knight]

As Fett scrambled along the tunnel through the huge space station, seeking a good place to get off and take a lift the last few kilometers, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the Arach'tar began to track his movements. And crawling through a tunnel was a good way to get yourself killed if you didn't have a quick escape plan.

 

Moon Knight did, of course, have a good escape plan--he was a Mando'ad, not a di'kut, after all. As he saw the Crusader scrambling along the tunnel towards him, he got a quick reading on the creature and quickly realized that things were about to get toasty if he didn't get out of there quickly.

 

His climbing/combat spikes popped out of his gauntlets with a quick blink command directed at the proper location in his buy'ce and, with one quick cut, he severed the welding on one of the segmented tunnel's seams. With a powerful kick, he broke the duct open and slid out into a black room filled with coolant and, according to his radar, no opponents. He knew that just getting out of the tunnel wouldn't be enough, and he quickly activated his rocket pack and launched himself across the room. A huge explosion sounded behind him and the shockwave shabiir'ed his course, causing him to enter a sideways tumble.

 

Always thinking and reacting, he killed the power to his pack and rolled to orient himself face-down. He brought a hand down to touch the ground and was thrown down on his forearm, its climbing spikes still engaged. The spikes tore into the frozen durasteel and yanked his feet around him. A second of backward sliding brought him to a stop, a huge gash in the floor.

 

But during the slide he had caught something--just for a moment, he thought he had seen something--a visual cue that his radar hadn't picked up. He was on his feet in an instant, recovering with legendary speed and fighting both headrush and the momentary transition from the heat of flame to his new, frigid surroundings.

 

His advanced suit of armor transitioned with him, a beskar'gam and flight suit combination that was capable of sustaining him in outer space. He barely had time to snatch his Westar pistols before opening fire on the position of the figure he had glimpsed, though he still couldn't see the figure and was shooting by memory. Infrared would be useless, and the target--if it even existed--was cloaked to his radar and his sight.

 

OOC: I assume Rak'mor's introduction implied you wanted Fett to challenge him like this.

[Yue]

The dredge through center point was stopped. A void appeared where the force once was. Fear was nothing that could be felt by any of the thralls' at the command of this plague. The overseer on the hand while not afraid yet felt worried for the first time in many years. A void meant the pariah was near, but three. Three was something that he had never imagined was possible at once.

 

The pariah was a freak creation. An accident that should not exist in any place. It was here through. Here they were. Closing in like the moon being stolen by the night. The force had left. The world seemed slowed and bright. The darkness that engulfed Yue and his legion lifted and with it the bounds that granted life to his carrion. The demons that stood before him let fire as for the first time the grim reality sat in. What defined this sith was forcefully stolen leaving him drained and with only the smallest bit of power remaining a rush of wind followed away from these blasphemous creations. Then the fire erupted. Monsters of a false existence they might have been, but they were not all able to escape from the blast of the fallen.

 

Yue in mid force jump was propelled even further from the initial shockwave of the first explosions. Knocked back into the wall he felt the force returned and saw that one of the demons had fallen and the void the trio emitted shrank. He felt the lag of what remained of his forces despite and he ordered them back. Some more laid on the ground, no longer useable but the force laid with in their bonds. All left with pieces missing and char along their infected skin. The only one to suffer little harm was the champion Ichi as he knew what his soldiers carry. He was burned and his left arm was perforated showing bone. Others tried to escape and fell. Among his dead only Ichi remained combat ready. The void called in the force that gave what life remained and soon what few carried the fire would go off with out need.

 

”œIf these abominations wish to devour the force then so be it.”

[Exodus]

OOC: You assumed wrong.

 

JAVELIN

Moon Knight

 

• ”œLike sheep to a wolf.”

Edited September 29, 2008 by Guest

[Exodus]

Exodus folded his arms across his chest with pale ennui apparent in his expression. He took this time to harness the wild and insurmountable power that coursed him whole; the time the two others wasted on words, he took to evolve. Growled his derelict heart did, awakened to the stir of the dark that his Centrum craved. His addiction was so efficacious that when it was quelled, even his flesh saturated and screamed with excitement. The phantasma that tried to escape from Exodus was still seen but now blurred as if a powerful wind rumbled all around him. His bevy of black quilted robes winnowed behind him and provided him with manoeuvrable dynamics that he could amend his combat standpoint with in a flash.

 

The shells came in fast and Exodus had stretched out his arm and in their direction before each of them was even released from their chambers. Almost effortlessly it seemed, a flourish of the enslaved Force pushed outwards just as the shells were a meter from impact point. For a short moment, the Force push became visual for all to see with a livid white-blue. Nevertheless, the projectiles bounced off of his armour with their weakened and deterred speed. One or two inspired him with pain while the rest were futile and fed no purpose. Exodus took one fast step forward and the phantoms that were chained to him almost spilled forward before him. His second step allowed him to break into an unreadable dash towards the ruckus ahead of him. He was breakneck fast; his vocation disciplined him to be.

 

The cool dead air brushed his shaded features and then as he drew closer, he felt an abnormal and ethereal clash from the two. Just then, the Emperor was knocked to the floor with ease. Exodus burst forward now, his feet carried with an unnatural force”” if he stepped left, he didn't step but rather dematerialized at one point and then assembled at another. He was now within radius and now swamped both slackened powers with his overwhelming own. He pounced forward with both arms pulled behind his back readied to heave his talons into the chest of the Iron Demon. As he tweaked his arms forward, his side-step travelled him impossibly to the rear side of Sakuda””hoping to tear into him before he could even realize it himself.