Battle of Coruscant: The Capital

[Ranavik]

Having hijacked a speeder further in the city, and having decided that he had had enough of the sith for one day, Rhoc zipped through the streets on his stolen vehicle. He was doing his damndest to stay away from the thick of the battle where he could, though he wasn't above ramming the occasional Sacred Band soldier who decided to take potshots at the escaping alien.

As he traveled, he noted that the ground was gradually rising up, leading to the higher ground that was the capital district. Up ahead, the dome of the senate building came into view.

As expected, the Sith army seemed its' most concentrated here. The nautolan narrowed his eyes. But more importantly, it was probably where the more influential figures still on the planet were probably hiding out. There was no way in hell anyone here would be left behind. If things turned from bad to worse, this would be the place to be.

From the looks of things, the Sith were still battling for entrance into the building. Good. He'd blow straight past the senate building and bypass having to get mixed up with all the fighting. Ideally, he'd find cover somewhere nearby and just wait for everything to sort itself out. Failing that, he'd offer himself as a fighter and spill a bit of his blood in hopes the Republic would give him a spare seat or spot in the cargo hold whenever transport for the stragglers came around.

...

The nautolan inhaled slightly and clucked his tongue.

What a shitty plan.

But he'd gone this far. No point in going back to the drawing board.

With a twist of the gear shift, Rhoc revved the engine of the speeder, jolting the machine to a higher speed. The roaring speeder flew straight over the heads of the Sith army, not giving any of them enough time to ask themselves what the f*ck just flew overhead, let alone use their force-voodo in an attempt to stop him. And that part of his plan seemed to be working great. That was, until he found himself having to shift his flight path to accommodate a set of speeders seemingly just chilling half-a-dozen meters above the ground. His own speeder was caught up in the field of force manipulation, slowing almost to a halt.

He had a moment to think, Oh piss, not again, before him and the rest of the lot were force-lobbed forward towards the senate building.

To the speeder's rider, it looked like the sky and the ground were doing wild somersaults over his head for a few seconds as the engine kicked back in and he was sent careening in wild loops. The speeder and its' alien rider crashed right through an upper-floor window and part of its' wall.

The unlucky rider was thrown off in the crash, landing in a heap on the senate floor a ways away from the wreck of a speeder, still weakly whirring on as it gently nosed against one of the senate's stone walls. Slowly picking himself up off the ground, the alien who just crashed in groaned in a mixture of agony as his broken rib reminded him that it was indeed still broken, and frustration that fate had once again decided to ruin his plans.

 

[Berlioz]

​

"Yeah, no shit, my money was on the Sith too," Ray replied, taking a series of quiet footsteps across the Senate Building's upper levels. His left arm was laid across the Republic Trooper's upper back, thankful for the help as they continued their move through the building's corridors. Their worn, military boots soiled the clean-wiped tiles with every step, echoing through the upper levels of the evacuated Senate building. The shirtless would-be boxer rested a bloody-knuckled hand atop his bandaged abdomen, feeling the pain slowly returning. F'uck me sideways, shit just doesn't end. With an annoyed sigh, he reached to his worn cargo pants' back-right pocket, pulling forth a small chrome rectangle and pressing a button. The rectangle split in two down its sides, revealing two tiny mechanical arms along one half and a half-full cigarette pack along the other. The two droid arms hastily plucked a cigarette from the carton, lighting it with a twist and holding it out for their creator. Ray tucked the cigarette to his lips, taking the single most cthartic cigarette drag of his life.

A distant whirring caught Ray's ear, causing him to stop and look at the Trooper giving him a hand.

"Hey, uh, you hear-"

Ray looked to his left, briefly seeing out a window as a Speeder marked a collision course with the two. His eyes widened, dropping his cigarette.

"HOLY-"

The two dove to the ground, as a spiraling Speeder smashed through the nearby window and wall, jetting a Nautolan passenger forward like a ragdoll. Ray broke into a coughing fit, looking forward and seeing his cigarette's ember beginning to fade. He hastily shot a hand forward, tucking his lips, "C'mon, c'mon!" With a deep drag, the ember began to burn once more, thankfully salvaged. He groaned, rising up to his feet and seeing his allied Trooper do the same.

Ray looked over towards the Nautolan, thankfully reminiscent of the idea that a Nautolan Sith would just be downright stupid.

That, and he was rather sure not even Sith are dumb enough to crash into the biggest building in Coruscant. Ray patted the trooper on the back, taking a few steps over towards the pained Nautolan.

"Man, if you'd killed my cigarette I'd be straight kicking your ass right now. You friendly?"


@Ranavik ​

 

[Ranavik]

"Sorry, was hoping I'd get to enter through a door."

The nautolan retorted tiredly, taking a brief pause in pulling himself up off the ground. He glanced up at the two people who had apparently just managed to dodge the speeder collision. One man who looked like he'd been beaten halfway to a bloody pulp, a the cigarette he'd just salvaged still in his mouth. The other man seemed to be in much better shape. Presumably he was here to make sure the other one didn't, well, go ahead and die.

Rhoc stood up carefully. If these two were in the senate building and not cutting down some poor bastards, he could bet they weren't sith. They didn't have that usual sith vibe - there was no trace of psychopathy or hatred as far as he could detect. He glanced down the bloodied man. His eyes drifted to his shoulder, spotting the insignia on his overalls. The emblem of the Grand Army of the Republic, '33rd Engineers' emblazoned under it.

He held out his hand as a gesture of alliance.

"Republic, right? Don't worry, I'm on your side."

@Berlioz

 

[Vinny]

Spoiler: IMPORTANT PLEASE READ

ATTENTION: The spell referenced in this post has a short range and only will afflict the weak minded and the mentally addled. Hardened, grizzled, republic troopers may not be as widely afflicted as the civilians involved. The spells range stretches to just beyond the doors for the purposes of imagery.

The effectiveness of the spell will be up to the GAR and Jedi players caught in it (if the spell is even cast).

The low hiss of cloth against leather drew the attention of one of the priests prepping another speeder for launch. He turned to look as Cain rose from where he had been catching his breath. The Sith Master was growing tired of the artificial stalemate that the republic troops had manufactured. Perhaps it was the residual irritation from protecting himself from the supernova grenade, perhaps it was just the last shreds of impatience left in the mind of a man who had dedicated his life to controlling his emotions so carefully that he should only feel them at will. Regardless, for the first time in years real anger welled up in Cain's stomach. Real, animal, anger. He needed an outlet, and the spell was not yet complete. A bolt of blasterfire burned overhead and he turned to find it's source. A sole republic trooper who had been caught behind sith lines had crawled into position, his leg mangled, to take a shot that could have changed the course of this battle.

He had missed.

Cain stalked toward him, ignoroing the deadlock behind him. He reached out with the force and yanked the man off the ground, whipping a finger and sending his helmet skittering across the broken pavement. The man's eyes went wide, he struggled in the air, kicking and grunting, a small cry of terror whimpering its way out of his lips. "Tell me, who your commanding officer is." He rasped, drawing the man closer.

"I a-a-ain't telling you nothin!" He stammered, Cain cracked a genuine smile.

"Your heroism is refreshing, thank you, but I was not asking." He finished his statement with a snarl, snapping his arm out and wrapping powerful fingers around the man's face and scalp. He could feel the crunch of cartilage beneath his palm as he crushed the man's nose. There was a horrible sob of pain as Cain laid into him, forcing his mind into the soldier's like one would force a tube down the throat of a patient. The man gagged, squirmed, suffered, wept, screamed. Images came into Cain's mind, images, names, memories, experiences. Cain consumed them all, basking in the flavor of information. His force wound tingled on his forhead, his eyes burned, but Cain endured it.

"Lieutenant... Krusair..." He whispered coldly into the man's ears. "Thank you Corporal Lee Tembra." There was a sickening pop, and Corporal Lee Tembra's spine rose several inches, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Cain tossed the corpse to the ground and turned toward the growing chaos. He drank in everything about the scene. He saw Ka-Ragt, his plan a failure, moving to draw out new prey. He saw the burning wreckage of over a dozen speeders sticking out from the side of the senate building. He saw Lord Jissard facing off against Lanna and the other female Jedi. Lanna appeared to have escaped the priests he had sent after her. No matter.

Two priests formed up on either side of him. "My Lord Steward?" One muttered, sounding almost concerned. Cain shrugged;

"Delay the casting." Cain ordered, and then drew the dark side into his lungs and let his voice ring out over the battlefield.

"Lieutenant Krusair! I am Cain! Leader of the Priesthood of Tund and Servant of the Dark Side. I offer you a choice!" Cain's voice carried only a fraction of the Corellian twang it once had, now it was filled with a twisted whimsy. "My Priests have prepared a spell that will drive any weak or addled minds it touches to witless violence. Your own men will begin to kill one another with whatever means are available to them. Civilians caught in the spell may very well suffer the same fate. Your troops can walk out of here, though. Come out, surrender the building, turn in the Jedi who aid you, or I will turn this battle into an historic bloodbath-with your stubbornness to blame." Cain called out.

"I will even sweeten the pot, Lieutenant! My dear friend Ka-Ragt seems eager to fight, face him, if you survive, you can leave as well." Cain offered, his skin tingling with the fear that was beginning to settle in around him. He gorged on it, restoring his strength. He did not have to explain that the spell had a limited area of effect and that many of his troops would not be effected. Some would though, and he could always cast it again. His lips curled; "I will give you thirty seconds, Lieutenant! Walk away, or this will get much, much worse." Cain ground his teeth, his eyes getting wider. He wanted the soldier to turn him down, to call his bluff, to do anything to reject Cain's "generous" offer.

@Calixis @SithFTW

 

[Berlioz]

Ray's brow rose in surprise, looking over his shoulder at the other Trooper, then back at the Nautolan. "Well, shit. Alright then. First dude I've talked to in 15 minutes that hasn't tried to rip my guts out, cheers. Name's Ray, welcome to the Boyscouts." He shook his hand with fervor, briefly glancing upward and noting the massive height differential between the two. Ray cleared his throat, beginning to walk down the corridor, "Alright boys, we got shit to do. Our dudes in blue're still holding the doors, sounds like, and if I were a betting man that's where we'll find the others. Let's get going."

__________________

Ray and his team of two moved through the building as fast as they could. The Nautolan was clearly wounded as well, but those bastards were anything but delicate. As they moved through the building, a scent reached Ray's nose. Slightly distinct from the traditional smoke and carbon, more pungent in its potency than tibanna gas emissions. "Over here," he whispered, gesturing the small squad forward - and finding the demolished ruins of a Sith gunship. Ray swallowed, feeling his blood run cold as he stared at the wreckage.

He didn't need to think about what had happened to this black cruiser. The large, gaping hole through the ship's side told him enough.

The assortment of corpses around the ship only confirmed his suspicions.


(TRACK, PLAY TO END OF POST)


He'd shot this dropship down.

"Wait here."

He swallowed, quickly shaking his head and pacing to the gunship's interior. He glanced down, grabbing a broken, ornate Sith pike.

Ray paced into the demolished gunship, peeking his head inside. His eyes narrowed, eyeing a struggling Sith Pilot crawling towards a kolto cabinet. Ray shut his eyes, Don't. A sudden gasp reached his ears, as the Pilot rolled onto his back, pulling a blaster pistol from his hip. Ray's eyes shot open, as he threw the pike forward, impaling it through the young man's helmet and pinning his skull to the ship's hull.

He rose his hands to his head, briefly staring at the kid with a hesitant stare.

Holy shit. I-I....

He took a couple measured breaths, "Not now, dear god, not now...Keep it together. Just..." Ray paced over to the small kolto cabinet, looting two loaded rapid-injectors and holding them in his right hand. He turned around, beginning to walk towards the ship's exit, catching a glimpse off the corner of his eye. His eyes narrowed, looking over to his right.

A dead Sith Trooper, sprawled ontop of a medium-sized crate with a warning logo.

D E M O

_______________________

The small Squad made its way to the lower levels, the sounds of combat suddenly having vanished from the building's interior. Ray looked over at his two allies, noting the Nautolan as he lugged the heavy crate along his back. "Something's screwy. They stopped fighting." The three made it to an upper corridor, finally seeing the remaining GAR Forces lined and ready as they hunkered down before the crumbled Senate archway. Debris, corpses and turmoil riddled the large Senate Chamber's entrance. Ray's eyes narrowed slightly, noting the two Jedi towards the entryway.

"Move!"

A sudden voice roared throughout the entire Senate building as the small Squad made their way to the remaining GAR Forces.

"Lieutenant Krusair! I am Cain! Leader of the Priesthood of Tund and Servant of the Dark Side. I offer you a choice!"

Ray's eyes blinked in realization. This was the prick that lunatic was talking about before I threw his ass off the building. A Republic Trooper turned, pointing his rifle at the approaching trio, "Wait-! Shit, man, we're GAR! Chill!"

"My Priests have prepared a spell that will drive any weak or addled minds it touches to witless violence. Your own men will begin to kill one another with whatever means are available to them. Civilians caught in the spell may very well suffer the same fate."

Ray's ears twitched, feeling a chill run down his spine as everyone within the bloody building heard the Sith's claim. Quiet whispers and murmurs filled the archway of defense forces. Ray anxiously looked around, seeing everyone doing the same. Men and women of the Republic, Brothers and Sisters in arms, all battered from the taxing battle now stood before the shattered archway. A Sith Battalion awaited outside, standing shortly behind a man and black-robed Priests, similar to the one Ray'd met several minutes prior.

Heads peeked outward from behind shattered columns, tables and pillars, gazing forward in momentary confusion.

Ray swallowed, Can Sith even do that? Is that actually possible?

"Your troops can walk out of here, though. Come out, surrender the building, turn in the Jedi who aid you, or I will turn this battle into an historic bloodbath-with your stubbornness to blame."

All eyes suddenly turned to a single man by the Archway. Ray followed in suit.

Ray's chest trembled with momentary fear, the kolto flowing through his veins unable to stop his spine from tensing. It's a bluff. It's gotta be. Ray bit his lip, and gestured for the Nautolan to follow, grabbing several frag mines from the demo crate. The Silence amidst the building was deafening. He wouldn't speak, he couldn't. His jaw was clenched, his hands tense and shaken. His mind screamed at him to simply act.

Just do.

He anxiously spoke to the Nautolan, meeting the Alien's void-black gaze, "Grab three of these - set 'em-" he swallowed, his anxiety palpable as he handed the Nautolan a frag mine. "Set 'em by the archway, pick a spot, I'm doing the same. If they're doing this kind of shit - they're desperate. They just want to get inside," Ray explained, oblivious of the 10 kiloton silence that had filled the room , momentarily filling it with his own rambling. "I ain't quittin'. I've buried way too many god damn people today to quit, we gotta do something." Ray's eyes locked with Rhoc, "You with me, mate?"


@Calixis @Ranavik @Vinny @SithFTW @Zenya @saam @SonOfTheo ​

 

[SonOfTheo]

During the battle Indura hadn't seen much combat, and at this point she was somewhat thankful for it. Her talents were being underutilized plinking the occasional head that popped through the wreck of the AT-PT that had brought down half the building earlier, and she was getting antsy being in the position of technically contributing but not contributing effectively. She'd relocated several times as probably one of the last living snipers in the building. She needed a place of height, vantage over the conflict, so that her gun could sew discord and perhaps help halt whatever dandyboy ritual the Sith were readying down there.

She'd heard their point man, a sith called Cain, describe the spell's effects. She could feel the sith wizards working on the finishing touches of the spells effects. She did not want to be subject to the spell's effects.

The LT had told her to take position where she could be of use, so take position she very well had. They'd been smart enough to give her an ascension gun, which she used judiciously to hook upwards through the guts of a maintenance elevator to the approximate highest possible floor accessible to the the average galactic proletarian. It was in a ruined office room full of singed paperwork she made her nest.

Conveniently enough she bumped straight into an overturned wooden table, redwood of the variety that might have even come from her world from all she knew. Now from up here she could do LT proud and demonstrate for all the sage power of the bullet. Here she could be a name in the war effort, not a number.

She looked over the table to ensure it would support the gun's weight and recoil. It would do. Redwood was no joke. She righted the furniture piece laboriously and pulled up a chair of similarly luxurious (but tough!) material, drawing tattered and perhaps once incredibly tasteful black curtains over the window she'd chosen. She cracked her joints, flexed her knuckles, and settled in for the long wait. From her suitcase she drew her dread rifle, chambered in an archaic (but highly entertaining to witness in action, if you were that sort of ghoulie) .48 Enforcer cartridge.

She had time to do it right. There seemed to be a stalemate outside. So she slowly, thoughtfully loaded a magazine of AP. Smaller payload, sharp tip. Not typically her loadout, but she'd be punching through armor today.

Her job now was to delicately tip the odds slightly in GARs favor one crackling rifle round at a time. She didn't have to down the whole army, just make a mess, relocate, make a mess, relocate, run away, go home, get paid. In the circular roughly mushroom shaped stump that constituted the Senatorial building, there would be a lot of opportunity to move around and still be within sight and range of killing SBZ. So, when the rifle was ready she scanned the courtyard for the telltale signs that the sith were about to make their move.

She felt the malice baking off them and their spell even from her lofty vantage point in the wreck of the chique senatorial office complex. She didn't totally understand the Force in the way most people did, therefore couldn't tell if the spell had a radius or not. Would it function like a grenade, or a chemical weapon, or a plague, or something metaphorical and all reaching? Miraluka paganism didn't cover magic dark side WMDs, though considering the Old Republic history she'd brushed up on since joining GAR, perhaps it was time for a reformation.

There was a negotiation going on, so the wizards were holding out until things tipped their way or GAR buckled. She had it on good faith GAR wasn't going to buckle. If their magic trick was anything less than the later two varities of dark side weapon, she imagined the building would hold out somehow. Whether that was true was beyond her kin, but she thought they'd probably have to cast their spell and then some to break the defensive effort at this point. GAR was dug in good. Still, that wasn't certain, and how long did they really have if the Sith kept shuttling in reinforcements at the pace they were now?

How many were there in deep orbit?

 

[Ranavik]

A spell that would drive them to attack each other... Well, a spell that would cause the weak-minded among them to attack them all, anyway... the nautolan frowned slightly, and glanced around. Most of the men and women in the foyer had fallen into a terse silence. A feeling of dread, not his own, made its way into his mind. The soldiers still defending the senate were probably wondering whether it was wise to trust a sith's word, or weighing an estimate of just how many people in this building fit the criteria of weak-minded.

Even if it was a bluff, it had certainly put a dent in the troops' morale. It probably hadn't running all that high beforehand, though. For every company of sith downed, a dropship full of them was flown in to replace them, and every inch the Republic fought to keep was bathed in the blood of a dozen men.

A set of dreary observations that wouldn't help him or anyone else pull through the battle, but they were the odds they had to work with. Thankfully, those thoughts were put on hold as the man the nautolan had just met - Ray, he had called himself - whispered instructions to set the frag mines from the sith ship's demo crate at the archway.

<"I ain't quittin'. I've buried way too many god damn people today to quit, we gotta do something."> He said with a fire. <"You with me, mate?">

"...You're crazy," The nautolan said after a short pause, arching his brow slightly. He closed his eyes a moment as a tiny smile crossed his face. And heck, maybe he was right. Maybe the man was crazy. But he spoke with a stalwart determination, and there was something inspiring about that. "...But I'll stick with you, anyway. Pass them here." He said, taking the frag mine offered to him and gesturing for two more. He stacked them in his arms, and paced towards the entrance.

The outer entrance was filled with the huge mess of rubble and debris from what was probably once an archway of some sort.

Well, that made this a bit easier. There wasn't gonna be much room for anyone running in to go darting about the place. Rhoc set the three mines he was given fairly simply: one pretty much dead-centre of the path, whilst the other two were edged off to the sides of the path, closer to the interior of the building. A shallow triangular pattern.

 

[Berlioz]

"You're god damn right," he replied to the Nautolan, handing him three mines. Ray reached to the small of his back, grabbing his Hydrospanner. The shirtless Engineer quickly produced himself a cigarette, taking a hefty drag. I don't think there's a single sane son of a bitch left in this entire building. Every man, woman and alien within this open chamber had gunned a multiple of people within the past 20 minutes, and the death toll was only rising. However innumerable the Sith were, the GAR certainly lacked that luck. Ray briefly glanced around the room, seeing several eyes falling onto him and the Nautolan, seeing as they were the only ones moving at this given point and time, save some odd shadow that jetted upward along the upper levels of the Senate building.

"I will even sweeten the pot, Lieutenant! My dear friend Ka-Ragt seems eager to fight, face him, if you survive, you can leave as well."

Ray took a drag from his cigarette, God damn Wizards love their monologues and games. Ray looked to his right, seeing a nearby Republic Trooper approach him and the Demo crate, a palm extended. Ray's eyes locked onto the grizzled man's face, reaching a mutual respect with but a glance. "Pick a spot," Ray replied, handing him a concussion mine. Another approached, receiving another mine.

Ray flipped the crate open, beckoning whoever wanted a mine or grenade to bloody grab one before hell's gates opened. He took a drag from his cigarette, briefly looking around the room. A brief second passed, as the Sith outside seemingly feasted on the tension within the room. Ray's eyes locked onto a nearby pillar, an idea occurring to the Inventor-Gone-Mass-Murderer.

"I will give you thirty seconds, Lieutenant!"

Ray snatched two thermal detonators from the crate, taking a brisk jog towards the pillar on the far side of the room and taking a knee by it. He glanced to his right, eyeing a dead GAR Trooper, his arms missing and his face a bloody pulp.

"Walk away, or this will get much, much worse."

Ray swallowed, looking past the man and seeing his arms - still clinging to a Assault Cannon. Ray bit his lip, quickly darting towards the man's body and leaving the thermal detonators by the pillar.

He leaned over the dead body, briefly running his fingers over the man's stunned face and shutting his eyes.

I'm sorry about this, guy.

Ray reached forward to his chest, pulling the man's armored vest off his chest and taking a couple steps towards the assault cannon. He grit his teeth, his nose beginning to grow used to the stench of seared flesh. His hands tore the old Trooper's frozen hands from the cannon, to then hold it up by his chest.

10 barrel, dual-piston operated. Must be an RH-35. How much charge's this thing got? Fuck it, no time.

Ray quickly turned, taking a heavy puff of his cigarette as he tied the two thermal detonators alongside the interior pillar. His eyes looked upward, tracing the heavy structure up to the roof of the chamber. He looked back towards the Archway, looking to see the LT's move as he unceremoniously threw the armored vest over his chest, beckoning the Nautolan over for the Assault Cannon.

Make your move, boss.

@Calixis @Ranavik ​

 

[Calixis]

The Sith had seen fit to address him personally, a shift he hadn't anticipated and not one he especially welcomed. It finally dawned on him the reality of the near total lack of a real chain of command if he, for all of his decades of experience, was looked upon as the leader. They were probably dead anyway, which meant anything extra that they could inflict upon the invaders would be a bonus. Skahl wasn't so naive as to believe that the Sith would actually honour any sort of 'agreement', not as such a thing was in the Lieutenant's nature to accept anyway. That they were so willing to offer such a thing did tell him that they were getting desperate. It wasn't in their nature to allow any quarter if they honestly believed throwing bodies at an objective would get them the desired result.

A strange calm had descended over the plaza. For miles around them, the sound of blaster fire, of explosions and soaring aircraft still reached their ears, but it was a hauntingly distant, if hardly quiet orchestra. The Lieutenant caught the Zabrak Sith's gaze, holding it for only a moment before drawing his attention towards the Sith around whom the thongs of robed sorcerers appeared to be surrounding. Thirty seconds then. It was enough time for the soldiers to reload their weapons; pull ammunition and grenades from the dead and dying, to shift into better positions and pick their targets. The invaders would've been afforded the same respite of course, but then they were not the ones who sought to dig in and hold ground. If the would-be priest had made one mistake it was draw their attention towards the spellcasters.

Exhaling a short sigh at his own frustration, Skahl marched forward and towards the overturned and burnt out husk of a speeder. Exposing himself further in such a way was not tactically sound, but it wasn't as if there weren't a hundred eyes in his direction already. He rose one leg up and leaned his weight forward and against it, watching the invaders scurry about the plaza, Sith and warrior alike, the Lieutenant staring ahead of the Sith who saw fit to address him personally. Lifting his left hand, he pressed it against the transceiver of his headset, raising his voice loud enough to ensure that in the relative calm, they too would hear it. "Cute speech. Did mummy write it before she tucked you in?" He allowed a smirk to form across his features, looking back over his shoulder and towards the defences.

"You hear that, men? The pretty Sith princess is already having to negotiate. Apparently that one has a thing for me ." He gave Ka-Ragt a half-hearted wave and a wink, grinning all the while. Skahl was admittedly enjoying his little - inevitably short lived - stage. "Thinks we're so weak we'll turn on one another! You going to be intimidated by a little boy in a dress, or are you going to make them bleed some more!?" The Lieutenant braced his rifle against his shoulder, not yet raising it to aim. "Every second we hold is an evac shuttle away, a family in a shelter, a smug grin wiped off this lot's faces." He rose his free arm up, gesturing straight towards the ritual site.

"DEATH IS NO DISGRACE! OPEN FIRE! TEAR THESE BASTARDS TO PIECES! MAKE THEM BLEED FOR OUR WORLD"

@SithFTW @saam @Berlioz @Zenya @Soverin @Vinny @SonOfTheo @Ranavik

 

[Zenya]

Lanna, who had approached the two dualists, was ready to lay her light saber down into the Sith's body, when she was pushed by a blast of force energy. Gripping her saber tight, she angled it down, and crossed her arms in an X over her chest to push back on the impact. She sucked in a surprised gasp as she was knocked back, and her feet were thrown out from under her. The ground was slanted down, so when she fell, she slid a ways through the debris and flecks of ash and metal. It got in her hair, and something smoldered on her shoulder. That being the case, she paid little attention to the uncomfortable elements around her, but the rising action.

Twisting her light saber up, she leapt from her resting position to her feet, in one smooth motion. Whipping her weapon around, she blocked blaster fire, and was once again on the Sith. She reached out a hand, and twisted it as if she were twisting the force at her opponent's feet. She wanted to trip him up, or even better, make him fall. With two more steps, she brought her saber up, and then crossed it back down in attempt to silence him.

Ikora seemed to be going at it as well, calculating and swift.


@SithFTW @saam @Berlioz @Zenya @Soverin @Vinny @SonOfTheo @Ranavik

 

[SonOfTheo]

Indura felt the tension in the air. Not supernaturally in any sense, but in the silence of the stalemate, only interrupted by showboating SBZ/GAR shouting matches. She felt each man and woman on the field on both sides breath in, breath out, waiting for the other foot to drop. She could hear and feel the casters preparing their ritual, deep in her bones, and on the composite sonar image formed in her head via her aural amplifiers. She had them lined up, but hitting them before somebody sent her a nice tube-grenade would be a feat of agility indeed. But if they did that, she didn't have to stick around for it.

Lieutenant Krusair's rousing speech was a big help. She chuckled nervously at his ribaldry directed at the ostentatious sith making all the death threats in the courtyard. The tension was palpable now, and she guessed based on her recent discovery of how fast information could proliferate around the wider Galaxy, it was palpable everywhere right now. Around the universe. Everyone who was watching Coruscant fall at home had to see, needed to see a bunch of cocky grunts giving as good as they were getting from the sith lords threatening to butcher them all.

"Every second we hold is an evac shuttle away, a family in a shelter, a smug grin wiped off this lot's faces. DEATH IS NO DISGRACE! OPEN FIRE! TEAR THESE BASTARDS TO PIECES! MAKE THEM BLEED FOR OUR WORLD"

Oh, how Indura relished the moment when the tensions broke and everyone was on the same page as far as killing eachother. When you stepped on a twig and the dear turned to look you straight in your approximation of eyes.

She started firing at the sith mages, but besides the one time she'd set everyone involved on fire beforehand, she'd never shot at honest to god Sith Lords before and so hitting the slimy sons of bitches was literally a crapshoot. But bullets whirred nonetheless.

 

[Berlioz]

"LOCK AND LOAD!"

Ray shouted, feeling his chest burning with vigor as he snatched a nearby Blaster Rifle from a deceased comrade, tucking it close to his chest and making a run towards the archway. He quickly threw himself onto a nearby pile of rubble, firing a short burst at the Sith formation before the building and shouting at the Lieutenant, trying to buy him some momentary cover fire to pull back,

"Nice speech - now get the hell inside, sir!"

The Senate entry chamber was suddenly a-lit with energy, as the remaining GAR Forces within the building released a hefty battlecry, echoing through the Senate chambers. From the upper levels of the Senate building, a Sniper's heavy .40 slug rang through the air, jetting forward towards the Sith formation.

Ray looked over his shoulder, eyeing the Assault-Cannon armed Nautolan and pointing at an upper catwalk along the Senate Chamber's open foyer,

"Rock! Rhoc! Rocky - whatever the hell your name was - Get that repeater up there and put some bolts down range!"

A Blaster bolt caught his attention as it struck a slab of concrete by his face, causing him to swear and rapidly slam his back against a nearby slab of concrete that used to belong on the ceiling. One, two- He quickly pivoted to the right, staring through his blaster rifle's dust-ridden red optic and squeezing the trigger, aiming a blaster rifle burst towards a robed Sith Priest besides that one robed douchebag with a hard-on for hearing himself talk.

Spoiler

Blaster bolts rained outward towards the Sith in torrent, the GAR forces brimming with energy. Those who still stood amidst the ruins had watched their friends die, beaten back Sith Priests, Infantry and whatever other abysmal abomination the invaders had thrown at them thus far. Their minds were focused, rallied behind the Lieutenant's cavalier demeanor as he reminded them of what was at stake,

Shuttles departing. Families evacuating.

His mind briefly recalled a small bar along the Lower Trade districts, remembering a Sullustan bartender and his preposterous taste in apparel. Wine and alcohol-driven nights of vigorous dance. Cigarettes with friends, quiet evenings at his now-closed trinket shop working on the next invention for the Chamber of Commerce to delightfully stonewall. That brief moment of understanding between fighters at the parking garage, that light reprieve and chuckle after eating a ferocious haymaker to the jaw.

That Lady in the red dress.

That was what it was all for, wasn't it?

At this point, he really wasn't sure anymore.

He just kept shooting.

@Calixis @Ranavik @SonOfTheo @Vinny @SithFTW ​

 

[Ranavik]

Rhoc noticed the engineer beckoning him. He came over with a curious look in his eye, expecting him to have another sort of plan for the battle. He arched a brow silently, in a wordless question of 'What's up?' and was directed by the other man's gaze to the assault cannon. The alien's eyes lit up as he spotted the weapon, and he bent down to lug the heavy gun into his grip.

Oh, yes. He could definitely make use of this.

((Music))​

The last bits of tension hung in the air for a moment, and Rhoc finally began to feel the real weight of the situation press down on his mind.

He and the rest of these people might very well die here... Would he really be satisfied with a death like this?

He didn't think there was anyone with a working moral compass who would say that kind of a death wouldn't be a noble one - he certainly wasn't about to dispute that claim. Through delaying an absolute win of the Sith, countless people would be able to make it off the planet, just as the Lieutenant had said. But was that really the kind of sacrifice he would be satisfied with?

Rhoc glanced around, at the troops whose vigor had been restored by Lieutenant Krusair's speech. A miasma of emotions mixed in the building's air. Most of the men and women around him were feeling the same anxiety and fear. But there was something else in the air - a terrifying determination that only tended to show its' head when someone was down to their last shitty hand of cards... A certain will to make this siege as painful for the sith invaders as possible. It was their pride.

The nautolan took a deep breath in, closing his eyes briefly. He propped his resolve up on theirs, which seemed so unyielding. Normally he didn't like it so much when he found himself getting mixed up in the emotions of others, but he'd make an exception just this once.

Now was not the time for doubt.

If this was going to be his last day, he wanted to at least be able to say he went down fighting tooth and bloody f*cking nail.

With a tumultous warcry, in which Rhoc unwittingly found his own voice contributing to, the defenders began firing upon the black-robed invaders and their Ziostian comrades. The nautolan eyed around the entrance, picking out which spot he could really bring the brunt of his weapon to bear.

The engineer solved the problem for him, pointing out the catwalk above the others. "On it!" He called in answer as hauled his ass over there, taking the steps up to the catwalk two at a time. There, above the firing and the focus of the bulk of the Republic forces, he planted his feet firmly in the stone and lined up the assault cannon to the entrance.

The dark army of the sith clamoured forth against the onslaught of the Republic. Further back, though, were a group of sith in particularly intricate robes, all gathered together. If any of the bodies in the dark ranks were those priests Cain had mentioned, it was them. And if there was anyone they wanted out of the picture ASAP, it was them. The RH-35's engine warmed up briefly, its' barrels rotating.

You want in, you bastards?

A flurry of rapid-fire blaster bolts rained down from the heavy gun as it kicked to life. The alien focused his siege on the suspected group of priests.

You're gonna have to EARN in.

 

[Livu]

One of the few, for lack of a better word, "good" things about an invasion on a large, well-stocked Republic planet like Coruscant was that there were plenty of hangars. Hangars full of ships that people hadn't had the chance to pilot in the first mad rush to get out into the field and meet the enemy. Now that they determined they were indeed being invaded by the Sith it was time to act. Laiev, along with other pilots, soldiers, and crew members, entered the hangar and began to spread out, working together at prepping the fighters and installing droids in a hasty joint effort. Crews rushed to set up missiles and loaded up other artillery into their small fleet of planetary defense aircraft while pilots began to climb on board their ships, punching in commands. Suffice it to say that in the end there were plenty of A-Wings ready to go, though not nearly enough pilots to fill all of their seats.

Air control's orders were for them to spread out, hit a few key points, and swoop in to provide cover and support for the soldiers and Jedi fighting on them. While they'd likely be spread thin, hopefully their presence would at least make an impact on the Sith's rank and file boots on the ground. If nothing else at least air support always makes for a good intimidation factor. Laiev's A-wing, along with two others, had been assigned to the Capital Building and it's surrounding area. With coordinates set and navigations all go, Laiev took off from the hangar and zoomed off into Coruscants smoky grey skies. She was joined by the other two A-wing's flanking her in a lose triangular formation, keeping their distance.

The flight was a short one and soon enough the Capital Building was in their sight, though it was becoming harder and harder to decipher the chatter on some of the radio bands as they approached. "Any station, this is Shepherd 2 come in. Any station come in! This is air support. We need positions, info, anything you can give us." The area below their formation was a mess, making it hard for her or the other two pilots that accompanied her from seeing everything. Yet even if she could do nothing but lay down some erratic suppressive fire, the sound and sight of three Republic friendly star fighters overhead could have made at least an impact on morale on either side. They flew high for now, the group of them looping back around before breaking formation and going three separate directions. The center one, Laiev's, took a chance and swooped low after catching a slight glimpse of a few dark clad, red saber wielding groups of Sith outside of the domed building. After double checking for friendlies she opened fire, pelting them with laser's from the A-wing's two cannons. The other two seemed to circle for now, as if awaiting orders.

 

[Vinny]

The reaction was... explosive. Cain had to take a step back at the sheer force of the retaliation that the Republic gave. Not out of fear, but of awe. His smile grew wider; "Yes! Well said Lieutenant!" His voice echoed across the battlefield. This was it! This was the passion he wanted to see, the zeal, the emotion. Not rage or fear or anger, but devotion to a cause. This was strength! Cain wanted to crush them at their mightiest. Now, now he could act. Blasterfire broke out from numerous directions, explosions rained around him and the Sith Warriors protecting the clumps of priests began to inch backwards. One warrior went down, a burning hole in his chest. A sith priest crumpled under a hail of blasterfire. A clump of priests were blown away from a stray explosive. Another more precise shot burned past Cain himself, it ripped through the hood of his cloak.

Cain whipped his arm out, the remaining priests of his legion raising their voices high in their chant. "Now!" He roared, and the spell boiled over. There was an odd rippling in the air, a radiant wave of cold that rushed over Cain and every individual around the priests. The sith magic cascaded up the steps and toward the capital. Cain resisted it's effects, as did most of his priests. One began to shriek with rage and drew a knife, plunging it into his own stomach to stop from turning on his own. Several Sith Warriors cried out in madness, charging the republic line, one even making it as far as the doors before being mowed down with blasterfire. Unfortunately, the number of priests lost and Cain's own lack of participation in the spell weakened it. It began to eddy just beyond the doors, and faded entirely only a half dozen meters beyond that. He could feel it fade. It was a good first attempt of the ritual in a combat situation, Cain thought. He drew his lightsaber and flicked it once, blocking another blaster bolt that flew toward his head. He tilted his head up, searching for the sniper. (@SonOfTheo )

A hail of blasterfire came from some manner of heavy automatic weapon, several red robed priests dropped to the ground to avoid it, one was blown away, bits of him scattering across the battlefield. Cain's lip twitched. He glanced back over his shoulder and watched as another pair of dropships arrived, one with a Sith Warrior and a platoon of SBZ soldiers, another with priests. They poured out, throwing narrow bolts of lightning at the doors of the Senate building.

"Troopers!" Cain called, "I want those doors destroyed! Ritual Priests! Fall back!"

Troopers began another charge toward the doors while the surviving priests who had participated in the ritual retreated toward the dropships. He was about to shout another order to the Sith Warriors to advance as well-breaking their defensive wall, when the sound of starship cannonfire drew his attention. He spun, snarling and watched as one of the still stocked dropships was blown to bits by an A-wing. He drew his dark power and threw his hand out, launching a pair of bolts of lightning at it. He needed just a bit more time and troops, they would have to retreat further into the Senate building eventually. Then he would personally join in on the battle. One accursed Pilot was not going to delay him.

@Livu @Ranavik @Berlioz @Calixis

 

[Prudence]

As the battle raged on, a shadow crept across the Capital building, threatening to envelop the whole building. It did so soon, however, as the massive triangular swath of Darkness moved swiftly over the battleground as if it were the spirits of all the dead during the battle, threatening to take their revenge against the living. Anyone who allowed their gaze to rise to the sky, however, would see that this wasn't the case. The sudden growing shadow was the result of a an Empyreal-Class Star Destroyer, Sundari's Revenge, slicing through the atmosphere of Coruscant and blocking the light from the sky. Rocketing away from the Star Destroyer was a Hunter-Class Enforcement Ship, the personal vessel of Mand'alor Kyramud, accompanied by a wing of Mandalorian-Clawcraft - and they were headed straight towards the Capital Building.

From his vantage point Prudii could see the inbound airsupport for the Republic, a pair of A-Wings tearing through a Sith drop ship. He watched as several Clawcraft breaking formation to hunt down the A-Wings, canons ablaze. The Hunter-Class, christened The Devastator, refused to deviate course, however, and locked his ship in on a quick dissent towards the Capital. He was coming in from behind the Sith lines, and had a clear view of the doorway. He couldn't tell what was going on but there was a brief pause in the fighting, before a lone gunman, followed by others, seemed to start shooting at the Sith lines.

Interesting, the Mandalorian thought, as his ship drew ever closer. He could hear now the churning of the forward laser-canons on his ship as they poured fire towards the doorway, and the dull sizzle of a pair of concussion missiles piercing the sky in a direct path towards the door. Whether or not they killed the shooter was irrelevant, if he was intelligent he would retreat. He also saw twin concussion missiles sailing through the air, their propulsion leaving a blue streak behind them as they soared into the entrance for the capital. Prudii observed this all not from the bridge of his ship, however. His ship was being piloted by Mandalorian officers, instructed to do a bombing run on the entrance and provide air support. Instead the Mand'alor was observing this from the foggy, scratched viewport of an escape-pod turned drop pod. The Devastator and her escort had been ensuring the pods made its safely, and so far they had. Around him was over two dozen other pods, each filled with four Mandalorian Supercommandos. The lights within the pod shifted on, glowing an ominous red as they neared the surface.

"We're dropping feet first into hell, boys." Prudii said, his jaw clenched, "Make Mandalore proud."

The anticipation, determination, and aggression in the air, wafting from his soldiers was nearly tangible. A swirling of emotions, the likes of which many men would never feel in a lifetime. Among those emotions, however, fear was not present. Their dissent nowhere near terminal velocity, but fast enough to be terrifying to most brought the pods down on the ornate stairs of the capital. A pod directly to Prudii's left impacted first, sending chunks of duracrete and dust everywhere. The doors slid open and the Mandalorians pressed through the door. An instant later Prudii felt the body-jarring impact as his pod was jerked to a halt by the ground. He heard the sharp pop-hiss of the doors opening and immediately threw himself out of the door directly towards the capital building. Speaking into his helmet comms system, a channel opened to the Sith battle com the Mand'alor began barking out orders, "This is Mand'alor Kyramud, your reinforcements have arrived. Press forward, now. We breach the capital here and now. My Supercommandos will secure you a beachhead." He was unsure of who had previously been incharge of the Sith forces here, and he didn't bother asking. It didn't matter, the Mandalorian asserted him as the authority the moment he landed.

 

[SithFTW]

Ka-Ragt was quickly growing frustrated. This wasn't working. The explosives here were meant to kill infantry. The grenades were doing minimal damage to the building. At this rate, they'd be here for days chipping away at the structure. There had to be another, more effective way. The Sith turned to face those that had gathered to support his little siege. Now, while the battle paused for the Sith/Republic speeches, Ka-Ragt got a good look at the men and woman. They were capable fighters, but ill equipped to lay siege on the building. They may have had a chance with the Giant Statue, but without some serious air support, Ka-Ragt and his followers wouldn't be making any real progress.

"Alright. All of you, grab only what you need, and follow me! We're regrouping with the others!" Ka-Ragt barked at the warriors. While the Republic was occupied, Ka-Ragt ran to the building, hugging its walls for protection. However, more then a handful of Sith were cut down by blaster fire. It seemed as though the speeches had ended.

Ka-Ragt and the others crept along the side of the building, using it for cover. Sure, it wasn't great, but it was better then nothing. At least while up against the wall, the GAR troopers had to expose more of themselves to get a shot at them.

Ka-Ragt proved to be correct, as the enemy gained air support. If they had continued their little siege, they would've been easy targets. However, tha mandalorians arrived, quickly retaking air superiority.

By this time, Ka-Ragt and his group had reached the main entrance by creeping along the building's exterior, but they were getting picked off but by bit. Ka-Ragt was thankful for the Mandalorian's help."Lord Mand'alor" Ka-Ragt began, using the Mandalorian's more formal title to show respect, "This is Ka-Ragt of the Sith brotherhood. I have a small group positioned at the main gates. Just tell us where you need us." Ka-Ragt may have been taking orders, but he held the Mand'alor in high respect. The Mandalorians in general were a fearsome culture. So to lead them, you had to be brutal. Ka-Ragt admired it.

 

[Jason Vaiken]

Saviin Echoy'la, daughter or Prudii Kyramund the Mand'alor of Mandalore can't help but crack a smile as she unslings her XPC-71 from her shoulder and takes off the safety. Surveying the world she can't help but find that it certainly is a beautiful world and it's a shame that large parts of it are on fire, or debris, or just simply being set on fire. With firm steps she walks up to her father, "Buir, most dad's take their daughters out for mall trips, but, I do have to say this is much more lively than an mall trip and that you are not most father's."

She then is interrupted by a Sith, "I also stand ready for orders Buir."

She looks up and wonders if that Admiral broke through the blockade yet, and if they are to expect Sith reinforcements. She got the answer to both questions nearly simultaneously as the Admiral of the Sith Fleet sends out a communication on an open channel.

"Republic dogs, your fleet lies shattered before me, your stations are now debris floating in this starry expanse, and the Brotherhood has begun blockading the planet. Your refugees and evacuees are perishing with the remnants of your fleet. You have failed, you will lose this planet and you will perish, make peace and prepare, for your death approaches."

Glancing over her shoulder she sees fighters and bombers streak down from space and begin to do strafing runs and bombing runs on both civilian centres and military centres simultaneously while others go and escort in Brothers and Sisters of the SBZ. With a grin covered by her helmet she awaits orders from her father. Then an even more ominous sight appears, 3 Empyreal Star Destroyers escorted in by 20 War Leviathans appear in the upper atmosphere and prepare to orbitally bombard targets called out by Sith and Mandalorian High Command, meaning her father.

 

[Vinny]

"It's like poetry!" Cain practically jumped for joy, his eyes cast up at the encroaching shadow. All thoughts of the tepid little A-wing were out the window. The Sith had come, the republic had fought back bravely. The republic was enduring the effects of Sith Sorcery, of death and chaos and the agony of a siege. And yet! They had risen to the occasion, they had shown just how mighty their resolve was and they had stood tall, showing their spines and throwing every ounce of zeal and passion into the fight. Yes! Do not cower and scrape! I draw my power from Zeal and Devotion! Feed me! Cain was drunk on it, on the poetry as that fiery devotion that he had so carefully manipulated out of them was confronted with the cruel, cold boot of reality. This was Dun Moch. He only wished he had planned the arrival of the Mandalorians himself, all he could take credit for was riling up the republic and cornering them inside their own tomb.

Cain's lips curled in a cruel smile. It was enough.

"Good Afternoon Lord Mand'alor!" Cain's chipper voice echoed out through the comms. "I am Lord Cain of the Priesthood of Tund and Darth Solum's Steward. She sends her best, mighty one. I march at your command." Cain crooned, positively giddy on the dark side energy being produced by the situation. More dropships were arriving, more priests, more sith warriors, more troopers. He bore his teeth at the building and ignited his lightsaber, snatching a blaster pistol from the corpse of a nearby republic soldier. "I been waitin' fer this..." Cain whispered, his Corellian twang slipping out as the lust to prove himself to his Dark Lady began to seep into him. He had waited long enough. He strode forward, calling to the Sith Warriors and Priests to march with him, thoughts of curiosity about the results of his spell already forgotten.

Lightning crackled on his fingertips.

He was so close.

 

[SonOfTheo]

Shell after smoking shell of spent .48 enforcer clinked against the soot-blackened rug of the office. Indura swung the rifle's barrel around to follow a group of artillerymen she'd broken up with a shot straight to the axle their cannon rotated on. She could sense their heartrates and hear them grunting and yelling back and forth, stuff like 'where?' and 'triangulate a position', blah-dy blah-dy blah. She lost patience when the sith magi bore some a cloud of dark energy moving across her synesthetic perception of the courtyard, driving everyone in its path to greater or lesser extents mad. With dawning horror and panic, watching people twist and convulse as they butchered each other or GAR troops they could get their hands on, she gave into instinct and targeted the lord in charge, who she thought was the same boisterous one who'd been verbally duking it out with the LT on intercom earlier. The rifle's stock snapped into her shoulder blade with a satisfying kick...

But she sensed the lord simply switch on his lightsaber and snap the bullet back at her. She'd barely been able to duck in time before the bullet ripped through the tattered window she sheltered behind and bisected a dead light fixture, spraying her with glass from both sources. "Booogan!" she swore rocking back unsteadily in her chair, voice jumping and lowering a couple of octaves there. She watched another lord point out her location to an artillery crew and barely managed to leave the room seconds before it exploded and slapped her against the door to the office opposite the one she'd just left. She picked her self up and gingerly moved back toward the elevator shaft. She rappelled down, needing to get off the floor the sith now knew to look for her on. She decided to get off four floors down simply because light shone through its lidded malfunctioning doorway. She swung back and forth a couple of times and used momentum to kick the sliding door the rest of the way open, springing out onto a floor filled with activity. She discovered what had caused the door to the elevator shaft to lay open, spark, and pour smoke from its hinges. Throughout the corridor were strewn GAR commandos who looked like they'd been rattled by a well placed missile from outside.

It was a shocking limb-strewn scene smelling like a mixture of copper and melting plastic over a brazier, all of which tested her stomach, but this floor had probably recently fallen off of SBZ's list of priorities after the missile had hit these guys. With one hand covering her ribcage which she was pretty sure had suffered at least one break, and the other toting her rifle by its forestock, she sniffed (literally) down the hall for a place to settle and begin her harrier's work again. Before she'd gotten more than a few feet she heard a static chirp from behind her, and whirled around tuning her amplifiers to hear it better. "Any station, this is Shepherd 2 come in. Any station come in! This is air support. We need positions, info, anything you can give us."

She looked outside through a shattered window and got a Force read on a pyramidal star-ship breaking atmosphere and burning clouds as it neared the surface. Blood drained from her cheeks. They were about to lose Coruscant, she realized, knitting her forehead and dry-swallowed unconsciously. She bolted toward the spray of singed corpses and plucked the communicator from the death vise of the commando who had carried it in life, before bringing it to her mouth. She didn't know if it was wise, or if she was the one to give orders here, but she'd been watching the battle unfold for ten minutes from as close to a bird's eye view as you could reasonable be without being in space. So she made an executive decision and tried to recall the formal way she was supposed to do this... "Copy Shepherd 2, this is Corporal Sungol, I hear you. I have a rough overview of the courtyard from my position, I can provide a few targets on the ground level for one last bombing run if you can make it, then you back off and give the Mandalorians a wide berth? Over." She looked out the window at the cloud of evil magic sweeping the courtyard, then did some terse grid math in her head and glanced down at the communicator's display. "Can you break up a cluster of lords at 28.418 by 4.434?" she asked, voice humorless and nervous.

@Livu