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The Algarian Campaign
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| greenblade | Date: Tuesday, 26 Apr 2011, 0:59 AM | Message # 16 |
 Major
Group: Users
Messages: 99
Status: Offline
| (will post tomorrow, connection issues today, lost my post twice already)
Tes'dra Nintra
"A coward dies a thousand deaths, a hero dies but once."
"Courage is the mastery of fear."
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| General_Adenn | Date: Thursday, 12 May 2011, 4:57 AM | Message # 17 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| ( Still with us? lol ) -I'll have a post ready by Monday or tuesday. Added (12 May 2011, 5:57 Am)
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Southern Front
Imperial Line
Outside Tarensii'a Only four days had passed since the Jedi had been captured, tortured, and then shipped off world. Jai'galaar had urged for his execution, but the Commander had thought otherwise on the process. To her, presenting him to an Inquisitor was a more valued action. To him, it showed a lack of killer instincts. A trait the young Commander must soon shed if she ever hoped to survive this war. At least this was the thought process Jai'galaar and a large number of his 13th brethren shared. For now though, the Captain of Shadow Company was free of the girl. She had taken to the mountain ranges to search for one of the hidden Droid facilities they suspected was hidden in those rocky, unforgiven crags. The fighting was rough there, and if she could survive maybe she wouldn't be as useless to them as many thought she was. Until then, she would always just be a pretty face they felt was implanted in to their ranks for the Empire to parade to. Why else would a girl with no experience, and fresh out of training be put in partial command of one of the most skilled, and active Imperial military Legions? "The campaign has dramatically ground on to a near halt." Besiege informed as he lead Captain Jai'galaar through the shattered rubble and busted terrain of their rear line and dropzone. "We pushed the droids and rebels back about three months ago, " He continued as they sloshed through ankle deep puddles, the heavy rain beating against their armour loudly. "Then the rain started." The Clones paused, finally able to focus on the Imperial line. A series of trenches and foxholes that mazed across the brutalized landscape. Sandbag covered entrances that lead in to flooded and collapsing underground dugouts. Kilometre on top of kilometres worth of spooled vibro-wire that rusted from the torrential and unrelenting rains. Countless muddied and soaked Troopers scurrying about the trenchworks. Reinforcing the falling walls, emptying their water-filled surroundings with helmets and buckets alike. Helping injured through the knee deep mud, and cutting enemy bodies that bloated grotesquely and festered grey and green in the wet mud from wire that protected the front lines. Just as Captain Feint had described, the fighting here was miserable, and deadly. Further out across the crater scarred and battle droid laden earth the battered and ruined rubble of a city stood wearily against the murky skies. Tarensii'a. Reclaiming this city and the land surrounding it was key to pushing deeper in to the Southern jungles and expanses, where two of the Droid factories were rumored to be. But on top of the overwhelming droid opposition, this front also had the second highest population of human and alien rebel resistance. Only behind the Western cities. "The rain has reduced fighting to small mid-field skirmishes mostly. With almost daily enemy and friendly artillery shelling." Besiege carried on as they began the slow, sloppy journey in towards the command dugouts. "Fall in Shadow Company, reinforce the front." Jai'galaar quickly interjected. "We've been forced to withdraw all of our Armour to the rear, and aerial support has become impossible with the amount of anti-air they send up at us. We suspect they're just waiting us out at this point. Hoping the elements will wear us down for an easy victory when they push their main forces on to us." Both Clones laughed, obviously the opposition didn't know that they were dealing with the 13th Legion. They were bred for long battles of attrition, it's what all of them excelled in more than anything else in their heavy arsenal of combat experience and skills. However, this was a joint operation with the 602nd Stormtrooper Brigade and some of the 901st Youth Division, it'd be wise for them to remember this.
Message edited by General_Adenn - Friday, 06 May 2011, 9:02 AM |
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| Shiva | Date: Thursday, 12 May 2011, 8:32 AM | Message # 18 |
 Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 386
Status: Offline
| (( I'd like to hop in on this thread if it is alright. I need more posting. )) Shiva kept abreast of as many of the rebellions as possible. With contacts on over two dozen worlds, word of the Imperial effort on land to exterminate the Algarian rebellion soon reached Shiva's ears. The former Separatist was in the business of making friends; the Lightbringer, as he was known in his public image, was an agent of diplomacy and justice. His true persona, the Shadowlord, was an agent of disruption and chaos. It seemed, therefore, that the pair of facets of Shiva could both be served on Algarian, partly to gain allies he could take off-planet and partly because he could not resist dealing the Empire a blow in any way he could. Shiva's primary instrument of reconnaissance as always, was a Theta shuttle equipped with cannibalized sensors that allowed it to function as a sensor ship. Into the Algarian System it jumped, hovering on the fringes. Its purpose was to scan for Imperial space support that could prevent Shiva from sending aid to the beleaguered rebellion. From there, the Shadowlord could discern on whether to commit forces or not.
Shiva
The Shadowlord
The Lightbringer
Separatist High Commander (former)
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| General_Adenn | Date: Thursday, 19 May 2011, 7:39 AM | Message # 19 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| ((Firstly, yes, I am against you just randomly showing up in our RP. Randomly. And I don't really buy in to the all-knowing, all-encompassing, Saurons fiery eye of a spy network you throw around. The opposition here is highly Sepratist, with a growing Rebellion looking to liberate the world from Imperial grasp, not run off. That said I am not against an OpFor played by an actual character, or any one else that would like to get involved. But you have to speak with both Fajra and myself so you can be established in to what we have planned and work from there. Keep in mind though we intend on this being a very long drawn out thing, and her and I also have very odd and sporadic play schedules. I'll have another post on my end of the rp by tomorrow or the next day, all that said.)) Added (19 May 2011, 8:39 Am)
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It was funny how while in the comfort of a home the rain was thought of as peaceful. A welcomed guest one shared whilst burning an afternoon with a holo-vid in the background. But here? Not anymore. Here the rain was miserable, it was cold, it was constant. It brought a gloom to the trenches no man would soon forget. An orchestra of heavy drops that splashed in to watery mud, and deepening puddles. It beat on armour and weapons, and dripped from wire. It was a maddening rhythm that was slowly inspiring insanity and contempt in the non-Clone patrons throughout the Imperial lines. "How much longer can this last?" Vinmar, a soldier of the 602nd growled in resentment. His Unit had been stationed in trenches since the very beginning of the heavy rain season that had thus far seen record water fall. "Complaining again isn't going to do anything, for Emperors sake!" Tyredreth snapped. All of them were suffering through the motions, but the belly aching from Vinmar was beginning to grind the patience of his trench mates thin. The two shared an uneasy gaze on each other, the hatred was growing, and life here was becoming worse and worse with each passing day. Roughly Vinmar lifted himself from the slop and sludge of the trench floor. His helmet clutched in one hand, rifle in the other, body trembling in the dampness. "What ever you say, " He finally retorted, giving the man one more glance before he began to laggardly shuffle through the filthy ooze. "You can sit and pretend like you're some hero, but I'm sick of it!" Vinmar continued, now a smaller audience of troopers taking notice to his outbursts. "I'm sick of getting barraged by enemy artillery every day! Sick of waking up at night with droids stumbling through the mud trying to break our lines! I'm sick of it all!" He began to shout. "Give it a rest, Vin! Tyredreth's right, the complaining is beginning to become an issue, Trooper." Slo, the Squad leader informed. "That is an order." "NO!" The defiant man bellowed. "I won't give it a rest any longer! I hate this world, and these Clones they have leading us! They don't feel! They were engineered for this, not us! Let them die! Let them fester and rot on this hole!" "You stow it, Soldier!" Slo now violently yelled, wrestling the featureless helmet off from his head, before he slammed it down in to the muck with a heavy splat. "That type of talk is treason. So wire up whatever issues you're having and get your head back in the campaign! You understand me?!" "Spoken like a true mindless machine of the Empire." Vinmar proclaimed, a frown weighing down his unhealthily pale features. "None of you can even see it. . no one cares about us. You think the Empire cares? The Senate? We're all expendable, for every one of us that dies they can recruit five more soldiers in to the ranks. They want heavy Imperial casualties. Not Clone casualties, they were made to be killed. They don't have families waiting for them, they don't have some sympathetic plug that can be used to massively recruit and pursue these growing rebellions all across the Galaxy. When a Clone dies, oh well. When we die legislation gets passed and Military funding increased." Silence fell upon the trench, no one spoke any further, they just watched Vinmar as he shifted once more through the mud. Moving to one of the final hollows that had not yet collapsed from the softening ground in the trench wall. Carefully he pulled away a water-proof cover that rested over the top of their rations crate, and immediately the anger, loathing and hatred swung back in to full gear. "Ah!" He hollered at the top of his lungs, rocketing his helmet down the trench with a powerful lob before swinging his rifle in to firing position. Releasing uncoordinated, and unsuccessful volley fire in to the muddy hollow. This was his final straw, they lived with this vermin in the trenches, killing them when they could. Finding them in your helmets when they lay discarded on the ground, or crawling over their bodies as they tried to rest. But now it was in their food! He fired again. The vermin scattered, their teeth snapping and gnawing through the plastic of the ration seals, lice-ridden pelts matted tight to their bodies with filth. "Vinmar!" Slo shouted, sloshing hastily towards the insanity driven man with another Soldier of their squad at his side. It was an action both soldiers would regret, as Vin quickly spun around and blasted shots through both men. Slo was hit three times in the chest, centre mass. The soldier that had been rushing with him twice, once in the shoulder, and again in the face. His flesh sinking in to the wound as his skull shattered inwards. "Drop it! Now, you coward!" Tyredreth asserted strongly. His own rifle honed in on the man. Vinmar pointed his own rifle in return on Tyre, his expression blank, confused. Releasing the muzzle grip with his left hand he hastily retrieved his side-arm and shifted it's sights unto his opposite side. Chatter began to ring through the comms, inquiring in to the situation of the trench. Vinmar lowered his eyes to the two he had just shot, then up to the murky, gray skies. His eyes closing as the droplets of rain beat against his pale flesh. "Maybe it'll stop soon." He said quietly, returning his gaze to Tyre. Then in one quick motion he bent his pistol arm in, lowered his jaw and pressed the barrel to the roof of his mouth, pulling the trigger.
Message edited by General_Adenn - Wednesday, 18 May 2011, 2:26 PM |
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Monday, 23 May 2011, 7:56 AM | Message # 20 |
 Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
| Her eyes were like the deep amber color of whisky, but sometimes they burned like emeralds on fire. Tonight, they glowed with that hazel-mix that was unique to her. She longed to tear something apart, as if an act of destruction would relieve the pressure building inside of her. The urge heightened her frustration. And she was frustrated. Aethyr. Corulag. Clones. Therapy. Lack of self-destructive substances. Seeing dead people. The cold. Stupid rocks called mountains. Wishing she could just pee like whenever. Droids and droid factories.
"Clones..." she muttered out loud, not caring if anyone heard the disdain in her voice. In her heart, she knew that they are not without feeling. But not long after the Jedi's capture, did her demeanor toward them change for the worst. Their lack of faith in her ability to command, was, disconcerting. Replacing her desire for respect, with a feeling of deep bitter anger.
Enemy skirmishes challenged the Commander. They left little time in-between attacks, as soon as one ended, another started. Good cover was not hard to find, but the fighting was close, and the terrain unforgiving. "RPP grenades ready! Droid support covering their rear" she shouted, while passing through her army of clones. If it wasn't for the sea of dark hair spilling out from her helmet, she would almost look like she belonged. It was her first time adorning the armor, which, didn't quite fit her five-foot-two frame. But she was used to stepping into big boots...literally.
As a Saber Rake, she used her light foil as if it were an extension of herself. Each move was executed almost effortlessly. She wasn't in the Tapani Sector anymore, and this wasn't the arena. But what she felt then, she could almost feel now. It wasn't fear that was making her heart race, it was pure sweet adrenaline. And not the fake drug induced kind, but that raw energy that thrummed through her entire body.
She stretched out into a prone firing position. Her sights adjusted, she rested her rifle barrel on her helmet and sighted through the scope, allowing just enough to compensate for the chill breeze. Then she began the gentle, steady trigger pull. Once released, the bolt, took with it a little bit of the pressure that she carried inside. The moment she recovered from the jolt of her rifle's recoil, the Commander squinted once more through her sighting scope. Across the pass, she saw her target crumple. Just to make sure, she pumped out another round and watched the body twitch.
Chaos ensued, after she claimed first blood. When the fighting had finally silenced, the moon had become the sun. Rest would not come until their fallen brothers had theirs first. "Is nothing to be said?" she asked, causing pause to everyone's movements. "You just dust your hands off and walk away? Is that how it's done?" her words were louder now, and clear with an anger she didn't understand. They were just clones, so why should she care? She paused a moment, conflicted with her own feelings. When she finally did speak again, she surprised herself. "Well that's not how it's done under my Command. So who's going to be the first to speak?"
Message edited by Fajra_Merav - Monday, 23 May 2011, 1:35 PM |
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| General_Adenn | Date: Tuesday, 31 May 2011, 12:03 PM | Message # 21 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| Southern Front
Imperial Line
Outside Tarensii'a
The command dugout was quite deep, accessable only by two durasteel ladders on both the left and right end of the square-cut room. Inside the the lamps and numerous tactical-overlays and computers pitched the room in a white, frosty glow. Solid wooden planks, damp from the wetness, provided them with a sturdy floor covered with thick black all-environment wires and cords.
"Report?" Jai'galaar immediately questioned over the incessant hum of the power generator that gave life to the Dugouts numerous electronics.
"Another suicide on the line. This one didn't go alone." Besiege informed.
"And THESE 'Soldiers' are what the Empire intends to replace us Clones with?" The Captain of Shadow Company retorted in a decidedly spiteful tone.
"We overestimated their abilities to cope in these types of conditions, Jai'galaar." Besiege said slowly.
"More like the Empire has overestimated the worth of a birth-born fighting for them. Send them all home, they just slow us down." Teroc growled lowly, both of his legs propped up on in front of him as a medic examined his decaying feet that were slimed with oozing sores and the nauseating aroma of rotting flesh. "They can take that child Comman--"
"That's enough." Besiege cut in quickly.
"Soft spot for the Birth-borns now, brother?" Jai'galaar quickly questioned of his 13th Legion comrade.
"Natural humans are fragile. They suffer from a range of emotions none of us will ever come to understand. . . because we weren't meant to understand them when we were created. Our purpose is to fight. Not to care." The aging Clone began as he tossed his helmet down on to the floor, and propped his weapon up against the muddy earthen wall. "The Empire has seen it fit to discontinue us, it's not our place to gripe or question. We need to lead the Troopers we have, and show them what it means to serve the Empire. Quite simply, there won't be Clones to lead in one day, it'll just be Commander Merav and the boys we're serving with right now."
The long silence that followed was broken only when Eight-Nine-Five-One spoke, "Gotta keep these feet dry and warm Teroc. I can get you on an antibiotic, and give you something for the pain. But they won't heal if they're not kept dry."
"Ha!" Teroc bellowed, "We've had five hours of sun in the last ten days. How do you recommend I do that?"
8951 stared at Teroc for a moment, then glanced towards Jai'galaar.
"You're off the line, brother. You'll report to the Medical Dugout immediately." Jai informed unflinchingly.
"Captain Jai'galaar, Captain Besiege. One more thing." 8951 said while he wrapped Teroc's feet and began to prep him for moving.
"Go on."
"Fever has begun to set in all across the line. They're coming in quicker than we can manage them with infections from body louse and sickness. We need to get these men out of here."
"When the rest of the Nine-O-First show up we'll contact Commander Merav and get the men on a better rotation. Until then we have to work with what we have. We're just one part of a multiple-front Campaign." Jai'galaar assured.
"Enemy in our grid! Must be thousands! Oh my-" A comm fizzled, then went dead.
Jai'galaar bounded heavily to his feet, flipping a small table that had been in front of him on to its side, it's contents smashing and bouncing on the boards below.
"Grids three through eight are overrun, I can't get a count on how many!"
"Where'd they bloody come from?!"
The reply he got was completely drown out under the scream of an incoming artillery shell. Jai'galaar smashed his helmet on to his head, and pulled his rifle tight to his chest as he leapt for the ladder. Besiege right behind him.
"All units to your positions! I say again, all units to your positions! Maximum resistance. " Jai voiced over the Imperial-wide comm.
"Come on, Doc! Get my boots on!" Teroc shouted.
Jai'galaar was already up the final rungs of the ladder, and pushed his way through the canopy curtains as multiple volleys of shells blasted their way across the Imperial trenches, leaving massive plumes of vaporized mud and dirt vomitting out from their impact craters. The narrow Imperial trenchwork gully's no longer were silent.
Jai'galaar sprinted in a low crouch through the animated ranks of soldiers as they yelled and pushed their way around, fighting towards their firing positions. Shell after shell assaulted their line in a horrifying orchestra of carnage and mayhem. One shell zeroed in across Jai'galaars position, it's impact blasting a hole the size of an Imperial dropship in to the soft, water-logged earth. Liquid mud and dislodged stones replaced the rain that drizzled down on his battered armour. Unphased he pushed on, elbowing and kneeing his way through the tight corridors, trying to make it to the front line.
"Contact our artillery battery command, return fire!" Besiege commanded. "Return fire IMMEDIATELY!"
Blaster fire rang the sky as shelling ceased. The Imperial line had fallen. The Droids had come in first, pushing through the vibro-wire and outer-line defenses. Then the waves of human and alien rebels had started to pour in. It was the heaviest non-droid assault this Campaign had thus seen. But, even broken and battered, the Empire pushed on.
"HOLD!!" Jai'galaar bellowed at the top of his range, the air was stifling, he felt as if he were being ruthlessly suffocated. His voice was barely heard over the raucous shouts and cries.
As the fighting drew on, it became more and more disorderly. Everything had degraded to hands and fists. Blades and bayonets. Anything you could get a hold of and bludgeon with. They were shoulder to shoulder in the trenches with the enemy. Hands reached out grabbing at anything they could hold, limbs flailed and jabbed every direction you turned. He couldn't breathe.
"Uughh!" Jai'galaar gasped as he found himself sandwiched between numerous bodies, his own frame nearly crushed beneathe the pressure. "Ahhh!" He shouted once more, using his thumbs to press violently in to the eye sockets of a mans head as he clasped his face between his palms. The man whined in utter agony, and slowly vanished in to the sea of writhing flesh.
"No surrender! Keep fighting!" He continued over the roar of human rage and hatred. Willing himself forward more, he could feel bodies and skulls under his feet. Friend or foe he could not determine as they cried and gulped violently the mud and bloody filth they were being trampled in to.
Fingernails gouged through Jai'galaars already scarred face, and a set of teeth viced down on to the side of his neck, gnawing and tearing through flesh. He howled painfully, trying to push himself backwards. Bones snapped and crushed under his feet, all he could see in front of him was the innumerable mass of bodies struggling in their own fight for survival.
Wrestling himself around more, he stumbled against the trench wall. A fist struck him violently across his bleeding face, then the blunt thud of an elbow fell down on his ear. Blackening his vision.
"Die!" He managed to decipher through the painful ringing in his ear, before the gore slicked blade of a vibro-knife plunged in to his ribcage, it's blade snapping two of his ribs as it borrowed deeper and deeper.
"Uffn. . " Jai'galaar groaned. Desperate and severely wounded, the Clone Captain hefted a fallen blaster up in to his shaking hand as the blade was ripped out from his body, then hatefully inserted once more, this time in to his abdomen, through his armour. Shrieking painfully he leveled off the gun and pulled the trigger. His attackers head split apart as if it were rotten fruit. He pulled the trigger again, and again, felling anything that was not noticeably Imperial.
Two trenches away Teroc foolishly clinched up with a droid on top of the trench wall, outside of the overwhelming tides. Ruthlessly he pounded his helmeted head against the droids faceplate. His right hand holding the soulless mechanization tight at the shoulder, while his left knife-wielding hand was clutched by the wrist in the droids grasp.
The droid, unphased, eye's glowing shifted it's body suddenly. Stumbling Teroc with complete ease, but the heavy weapon specialist held true to his clutch. He butted his head once more against the droids, his helmet overlays flickering in and out repeatedly. Slowly the droid began to tighten it's grip, and within just moments the bones in Terocs wrist began to splinter and crush.
"Hnnn!" He grunted painfully, the knife dropping from his hand.
The droid shifted again, tossing the Clone to the ground as if he were a weightless rag-doll. Dazed, Teroc rolled on to his back. His entire body numb. His eyes weakly stared up at the droid as it stepped closer to him. Tauntingly the mechanical combatant placed it's metal foot on to the Clone Troopers helmet, then effortlessly crushed the fallen fighters skull in to the wet ground below.
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Monday, 27 Jun 2011, 11:34 AM | Message # 22 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
| My response might take a bit. I started classes @ the salons location in Kenmore, and im still working like crazy ))
Added (22 Jun 2011, 8:20 Am)
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I woke up kicking and screaming. I saw the droid lift it's leg. I saw it through Teroc's eyes. It felt like my blood had become liquid fire, because the pain I felt inside was unreal. As my vision faded, I became more aware of my surroundings. Ne'tra was crouched in front of me, his hand gripping my face, forcing me to focus. I could see that beyond him, clones had gathered around. It was then that I realized...just how different they were from each other. Even though they shared the same face, they wore it differently. I don't know how to explain it. It's a feeling really.
"I'm not crazy" I said, but I didn't know if I were reassuring them or myself. "Teroc is dead, and Captain Jai'galaar wounded."
"How do you..." Ne'tra's words were spoken slowly, carefully, and he was holding back. He looked at me, and I mean he really looked at me. As if he were seeing me for the first time.
"The girl...the Commander is right." Denton stepped forward, drawing my eyes past Ne'tra's shoulder. "The Southern Front is under attack. Droid, human, and alien rebels have broken through the front lines."
"They could not have done so without pulling their forces from another source. Meaning that they have now left themselves vulnerable...but where?"Added (27 Jun 2011, 12:34 PM)
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Battle plans clouded my mind. I couldn't hold onto a single thought. I kept reliving Teroc's death, while trying to make a decision for the campaign. When I found my balance, I got to my feet and walked until I was out of sight. I got down on my knees and emptied the contents of my stomach out. The stress of the campaign, and my force ability had my stomach in knots. It felt good to relieve the pressure. But I soon regretted it because I was hungry, and our rations were running low.
I returned to my clones with a clear head (and hungry tummy). I couldn't tell what they were feeling, but it didn't matter, I only wanted their trust. "Ne'tra, take five hundred men further North of the mountain ranges, and down to the valleys. The rest will remain with Denton, who will take command from here. I'm going East, where I will help the arrival of new soldiers."
I chose to face the East alone. It should be a clear path. 'Should' be. Where they were going, they would need the numbers. I just needed a few good songs to sing along the way.
Message edited by Fajra_Merav - Monday, 27 Jun 2011, 10:43 AM |
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| General_Adenn | Date: Sunday, 24 Jul 2011, 12:42 PM | Message # 23 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| "Wh. . what are you doing. . ?" Zell whispered weakly, the weight of her attacker was rested heavily over her abdomen. "I. . . I surrender. . pl-- please." Her vision was foggy, and her recollection of the events leading up to this point were hazed out of recognition. She remembered the Rebel horde leaving their skirting positions outside of Tarensii'a, she remembered first wave in the Imperial trenches. Fighting fist to fist, shoulder to shoulder, and the explosions. . . so many explosions.
Zell could barely make out the features of the individual that rested atop her. Just the armour that hugged his body. White, smeared with filth and grime. Before she could focus any further, gloved hands clutched her neck fully between their palms. She tried to protest, but just as soon as the grip had been established, the hands tightened violently.
"Hnnmff!" The young Rebel feverishly gasped.
She tried to push with the heels of her feet through the slop and mud underneath her body, bucking her hips high and left to sweep this Imperial off from her. But her greatest efforts came to naught, he was immovable.
She heaved violently once more, trying frantically to fill her lungs with air. But the hands only clasped tighter, and the mans thumbs now both began to forcefully press in on the center of her neck. Zell pulled and ripped at the mans thick wrists with her hands, when this too proved futile she squirmed and writhed more heatedly. Fighting with every last thing she had as the world began to darken around her.
With her mouth agape, and bloodshot eyes rolling backwards. Her body instinctively jerked and struggled in one final attempt. Reaching for the Troopers face with a shaking palm, she feebly clutched on to the underside of the mans jaw and tried to push his head, but then blackness fully set in.
Besiege watched on as the Trooper continued to strangle the young woman that had so foolishly chosen to forsake the Empire, even after her body had stopped twitching, and the life had fleeted her dead eyes.
"Perhaps Captain Jai'galaar is correct in his assessment of war and these natural borns, " He said slowly.
"What's that, sir?" Assail, leader of Nexu Squad, an Elite commando unit of the 13th questioned.
"That it's a permeating wound. . it perverts the very laws that let them function." Besiege replied, slowly gazing out over what was left of the Imperial Line. Thousands were dead, dying or severely wounded. He had lost track of how many hours the fight had lasted, but against all odds the Imperials held strong and beat the terrorist scum back push after push. But at what cost did this victory come in a war that every day looked less and less of ever having an end? "It turns men to monsters, and catapults the sane in to madness. None of these Soldiers will ever be the same."
"The sooner the Senate adopts this line of thinking, perhaps the better then."
"It may be so, but for now we need to push onwards." Besiege acknowledged, composing his thoughts quickly. As he an Assail began to climb through the muddy craters and collapsed trenches. "I want you and Nexu Squad to go and gather Commander Merav, wherever she may be as soon as possible. We'll need her authority to reinforce and resupply this Theatre more properly."
"It'll be done, Sir."
"Make it quick, Assail. With the number of injured we have, and with Captain Jai'galaar wounded, we need to move as fast as possible if we're to take advantage of the same trauma the Rebels are sharing."Added (24 Jul 2011, 1:42 PM)
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"I saw a soldier strangle a young woman to death, earlier." Besiege said slowly.
"That's war, brother. You know the 13th doesn't urge any of it's own units, or the units we may be commanding outside of the Legion to take prisoners that are not of tactical importance. Dissenters deserve death." Jai'galaar weakly retorted.
Pausing for the briefest moment, Besiege looked backwards over his left shoulder. Watching as another injured Imperial was hauled in from the rain. It was surprising really, he thought to himself. His gaze returning to the wounded Captain Jai'galaar. Surprising how the two of them could sit here so unphased by the miserable screams of men. Men crying, pleading hopelessly not to die, moaning out in a helpless bid to return to their homes and their loved ones. The horror of the medical dugout held you tight, and the despair in it's sunken walls was undeniable.
Along the wall where Besiege stood, hundreds of wounded lay resting on metal racks securely attached to the dugout wall four high. Against the opposite more than a dozen medics worked at an exhausting pace to clear the most urgent cases from the blood soaked operating tables. But for each man they healed, five more were being hauled in from the broken Imperial lines. And were waiting amid the suffocating stench of blood and pus, wailing desperately for help in a symphony of suffering that had no end.
"That's it! No more!" A clone surgeon shouted, stepping across the bloody floors, his arms and chest painted deep crimson. "Supplies are low and space is nonexistent, you gotta put them outside!" He growled.
"But, sir. . "
"Don't try to tell me otherwise! We aren't going to be able to save them all. At this pace we'll be out of supplies in less than an hour. We can only take the lads we can actually salvage. That's final." As one of the head medics in the Legion, his word was final on this situation.
Besiege shook his head, "We've been rendered combat ineffective, Sir. Even those not wounded, mentally are incapable of serving the purpose of this Campaign any further."
"It's as I've said, brother. Birth-borns are not meant to experience such horrors. We will always be the superior race when it comes to warfare." Jai winced, placing a hand on to the bacta wraps that hugged his chest wound. "Casualties?"
"We don't even know yet, the line is in ruins. We've been unable to raise Commander Merav. Captain Ne'tra informed us that she left the Northern front to initiate the new soldiers that were supposed to arrive out East."
"Merav. . " Jai'galaar groaned quite spitefully. It was no secret a large portion of the 13th that the young Fajra Merav commanded detested her, or more precisely, detested her lack of experience.
"I sent Nexu Squad to gather her, she's going to be needed." Besiege informed.
"Sending a squad of Commandos to acquire our own Commander?"
"I know. ."
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Friday, 16 Sep 2011, 6:40 AM | Message # 24 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
| "I remember you Jon Davir."
I became oblivious to everything: to the world around, to time itself. Minutes could have passed. Hours could have passed. I didn’t know. I existed in an altered state, one that barely kept the terror and grief at bay. Footsteps and voices eventually sounded. I couldn’t really make anyone out. I didn’t need to. They were threats. "Get away from me," I warned, not recognizing my own voice. They kept coming. "Stay back!" I yelled. They stopped, except for one. His voice was soft as he assured me I was going to be alright. Hesitantly, I let myself become aware of my surroundings. I let my eyes focus on the features of the man standing there. Jon Davir. He took my broken body and guided me out of there.
As the memory passed, it was clear that she was uncomfortable. She tried to crack a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She mumbled something about rotating the 783rd Rifles Brigade, and then left the room in a hurry, leaving her food nearly untouched.
She was supposed to be out there. Not sitting on the floor of the refresher with her hands buried in her hair. It didn't matter how many times she showered, or scrubbed her skin till it was raw. She still didn't feel clean. She couldn't place how she felt into words. But it was like her body didn't belong to her anymore. "How do I get it back?" she mused. Her eyes were closed, and her hair fell over her shoulders, dripping water on her already moistened skin. Frustrated, she did what Fajra Merav did best. Something reckless.
"Where is my comm?"
Somewhere in the back of her drunken mind, a light clicked on. But she couldn't quite get to it. She drank more. Algarian Brandy. Amber hued like her eyes, a clear luminous gold. She pulled her shoulders back and wiggled out of her academy jacket, allowing it to slide down her arms. She caught it around her wrists, and after a moment of switching her drink from hand to hand, she finally managed to free it.
"Hold onto this," she said to Gortoz. "And this," to Davir, as she handed him her drink. They were the first to have found her on Corulag, draping a blanket over her beaten and abused body. And now Gortoz was taking her jacket, which was unexpectedly...heavy. With identical expressions of confusion, they watched as she shimmied into the dancing crowd.
Added (29 Aug 2011, 7:06 Am)
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As she spun, her hair twirled around her, shrouding her face in a dark silhouette. A dark blue sequined dress adorned her slender frame, mismatched with her black durasteel-capped boots. She rolled her hips with her hands in the air and moved closer to the ground. Her neck tilted back as she slowly rolled back up, her eyes fluttering open as a pair of hands steadied her hips. She couldn't recall the name of the man she danced with, only that he was one of them, and even that didn't matter. Your species however did matter. No amount of booze or drugs could ever get her to dance with a non-humanoid. Clones maybe...but aliens?
Gambling. A different kind of dance. One that she did with her hands. And smile. And eyes. She wasn't racist when it came to winning. It wasn't even the credits that interested her. Just the thrill of the game. After hours of dancing, and whipping her hair around, a game of Sabacc sounded like a good time. That was until she won both the hand pot, and the Sabacc pot by holding the Idiots Array. Which caused a bit of a fuss, considering it wasn't the first time in one night.
"Why are you giving me...the look? I just got lucky...a few times."
She laughed stupidly, and silently hoped she looked too intoxicated to be taken seriously. She gathered the pot with her hands and pulled it into her chest. She was about to leave, if it wasn't for that damn halfbreed, his big fat mouth, and his lackies. "Where do you think you're going?" he started to rise, but he backed down when he noticed that she wasn't alone. And unfortunately for them, she packed bigger company. Davir and Gortoz moved to stand at her sides, both there to help her drunk ass stand.
"My jacket," she ordered. Her eyes closed for a moment as she felt the fabric touch her bare shoulders. She let her winnings slip from her hands, and reached inside her jacket, both arms crossing her stomach. As soon as her hands touched her blaster pistols, she pulled them out, aiming both barrels toward the halfbreed. He laughed nervously, but he didn't take her as a serious threat. "You're so drunk, you can't hit nothing. You're probably seeing double."
"That's why I have two, one for each of you."
Added (16 Sep 2011, 7:40 Am)
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*
[Merav] "I did nothing wrong."
[Davir] "You shot a civilian!"
Davir groaned as I pushed my forearm deeper into his neck. I didn't Like how he made me feel. I wasn't a child that needed to be scolded. I'm Fajra Merav, and I'm kind of a big deal. Whether I'm walking, or, being carried by piggyback.
[Merav] "I only shot him a little."
[Gortoz] "How do you shoot someone a little? You either shoot them, or you don't"
[Merav] "Didn't I just show you?"
[Davir] "You're unbelievable"
[Merav] "I know"
[Davir] "That wasn't a compli..."
I had him in a rear choke, my right hand on my left bicep. But before that, I had pushed his head to the side, so that my forearm had access to his carotid artery. I didn't intend to kill him, but I did intend to put him to sleep.
[Gortoz] "Commander, let him go?"
I was going to. That was until I went for a ride over and onto my back. The impact of the ground nearly knocked the wind out of me. I don't know why, or what was so funny, but I was laughing so hard that it hurt. It wouldn't of been till much later that I finally figured it out. And when that time finally came, I wasn't laughing.
I woke up screaming. I felt like death, and I was surrounded by death. The more I tried to get to my feet, the more I felt panic tightening around my chest. Bodies of Imperial Stormtroopers surrounded me. I have never seen so much death. It had to be a nightmare. How else could I have gotten here? I tried to grip onto a memory. Dancing. Drinking. Gambling. They were only fragments. And that's when I knew. I hadn't just been drinking. It wasn't just because I couldn't remember the rest of the night. It was because I knew this feeling.
A shadow fell over me. Without meeting his eyes, I knew who it was. I didn't try to get up anymore. I knew that I couldn't.
"I don't want to die. Not like this..."
Message edited by Fajra_Merav - Friday, 16 Sep 2011, 6:43 AM |
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| General_Adenn | Date: Friday, 07 Oct 2011, 9:17 AM | Message # 25 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| "If the final decision was mine alone to make, you would die." The cold, and uncaring voice of Captain Jai'galaar crept forth.
But before the injured clone could speak more of his spiteful words to the girl a new figure appeared. Massive in size, easily towering over Jai'galaar as he took stance next to him. It was the kaleesh General. The true leader of the 13th. Taking time away from the outer-rim campaigns to address this issue that a good number of his most trusted Captains had brought to his attention.
"Fajra Merav, you're hereby relieved of Command. Preparations are being made for return you to Imperial Centre as we speak for your Court-Martial." the creatures reptilian voice scathed. "Consider yourself lucky the punishment could not be administered here. Now get this trash out of my sight."
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Wednesday, 12 Oct 2011, 5:33 AM | Message # 26 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
| I wanted to scream obscenities.
And even that was an understatement to what I wanted to do. But what I wanted and what I did - surprised me more than anyone that bore witness.
I forced myself to stand, despite the sweet venom pumping through my veins. It was hard to breathe, and the sun made it nearly impossible to see. But I would endure the discomfort, so that I could squeeze this moment for all it was worth.
Because when it's over. I never want to forget this feeling. A feeling that no word could truly justify. I felt it all the way to my bones. All the way to the soul. I knew what I felt in Corulag. Exposed. Violated. Abused. Those emotions were natural. Justifiable. I could write them down. I could express the pain I felt inside.
This feeling. This black emotion. I cannot express. It was mine alone to carry. Secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
My body swayed. But before it could give up on me. I knew what I had to do. I removed my rank insignia and placed it over the Captains wound. I wasn't there when he received it, but I felt it as if our bodies were one. Just like Teroc's death. Through my touch, I forced him to witness Teroc's death, as I had. I didn't release my hand until I was satisfied.
"I will not make excuses for my actions. I won't apologize for them either. Life is too short to wake up with regrets."
I wanted to say more. I wanted them to know that as birth born, I believed in them. That I would speak for them. I would find a way for all of the Clones, even after the Empire no longer has use for them.
Goodbye Algarian. Hello Imperial Center.
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| General_Adenn | Date: Tuesday, 08 Nov 2011, 11:15 AM | Message # 27 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| Northern Front
Basin VIII
Near Rebel Monastery
"Go go go! Keep moving!" Assail leader of the Nexu Squad shouted as he vaulted himself heavily over a downed tree, his body shifting as soon as his feet hit the frozen ground once more. He gazed backwards at the advancing Rebel and Separatist horde. "Lets go lads, double time!" He panted, firing several shots from his DC-17m.
The extraction team scattered through the undergrowth of the deep basin. One trooper they had been sent in to reacquire was already dead. Blasted to pieces by the advancing Opfor. The other, CT-0890, better known as Conquest the former Captain of the 13th Legion's Crusader Company, and one of only two soldiers that had survived a failed attack on a Weapon's Development Facility during the Clone Wars. He along with fellow Trooper Scourge had both been promoted in to the ARC program after the incident. And at the formation of the Galactic Empire had returned to serving as a solo operative attached to the 13th.
"I'm not going to make it. . . " Conquest sighed painfully, he had been hit badly in the skirmish, and was left limping and falling behind.
"Just keep going, Sir!" Overwhelm, one of the Commando's replied.
They continued on through the dense vegetation and undergrowth of the frozen basin. Red bolts of rebel fire fleeting by them at an increasing rate. Blasting trees in to splinters and spraying up leaves and hardened soil from each violent impact.
Finally, after what had seemed like hours worth of running, Nexu Squad emerged from the gloom and darkness of the basin, and in to the pale fog-swept daylight. Blaster bolts followed right behind them, whining in the cold winter air of the Northern Algarian expanse.
"Up there. " Rout, another member of Nexu huffed in his familiar mechanical voice. He was pointing up flinty slope that was nearly entirely barren save for it's sparse croppings of dead bushes. At the top were the ancient walls of some long-forgotten structure. It appeared to be made of local stone to the area, and had not held up kindly over the years.
Assail nodded, it'd have to do. They weren't going to make it to the rendezvous point like this. They had to engage. The Clones continued on, climbing as quickly up the steep bank as they could. But again Conquest began to fall behind, stumbling and falling to his chest every few feet.
"I got him!" Breakthrough yelled, not even hesitating he had slid back down to his injured comrade, stooping low he took Conquest around one thigh and hoisted him up on to his shoulder before continuing upward.
"No! Leave me! Get to the rendezvous point!" Conquest protested, but Breakthrough did not heed to the cries. He kept soldiering on with short quick steps. Trying not to fall backwards as heavy impacts of enemy fire sprayed across the landscape on all sides of him. Coughing up smokey ash and pebbles from the slope.
Assail, Rout, and Overwhelm had reached the aged and broken structure first. Diving over the ragged stone wall before each took to a firing position and began to return shots down in to the clearing at the edge of the basin.
"Come on!" Assail yelled, as more of their relentless pursuers began to emerge from the thicket. Some had already began making the march up the slope, weapons at the hip firing widely on Breakthrough and Conquest. "Keep them covered, lads!"
Bolts from both positions whickered up and down embankment, with the Commando's picking and choosing their shots very wisely, and accurately. Rout struck a droid square in it's chest, punching clear through it's armour plating and wreathing it in sparks and strings of electricity as it crumpled to the ground. Then immediately hit a Rodian rebel that had been but a few short paces to the left of the droid in it's face. The shot sheered through the creatures left eye and clean through the back of the skull. The soldier flinched, his arms stiffened and his body tipped backwards and rolled to the bottom of the bank. Dead.
Another Rebel went down, his body dropping in to a seated position before falling to it's back. The human male had been hit in his throat from a shot released by Overwhelm. The Clone couldn't help but smile as he watched the ungrateful dog clutch meekly at his neck, gasping for air. But this was no time to revel, and he quickly resighted and began firing again.
Finally Breakthrough had reached the wall, and Assail hastily threw down his weapon and grabbed Conquest, wrestling him off from the shoulder of his fellow clone and in behind cover. Conquest groaned loudly as he landed on the ground with a thud. He'd been shot in his left side of torso.
"Rout, take care of him!" Assail ordered as he helped Breakthrough over the wall, and then quickly returned to the duty of his firing position.
The scene below was beginning to grow even more vicious. The Opfor now numbered close to one hundred strong, with more pouring in from the basin. Whatever Conquest and his team had come to get, the Rebels most definitely did not want it to get back to the Imperial headquarters. Assail, Breakthrough and Overwhelm continued firing. Focusing on the Rebels that had to advancing up the slope towards their position. But more just kept coming.
On the basin floor in the clearing numerous Rebels lay prone, loosing shot after shot of more well-aimed fire at the Clone position. Blaster bolts zipped through the air heavy as the rains outside of Tarensii'a. The situation was extremely critical.
"Wrap me up tight, get me back in the fight!" Conquest demanded, his teeth gritted as Rout worked off his armour to reveal the wound.
"Hold on" Rout replied quickly as he sat Conquest up and began to dress the wound. It was perhaps his poorest job fixing up a fellow soldier yet. But in this particular situation simplicity was all that could be afforded. The team needed his blaster back on the line. "Here! This will help." He hissed and hastily stabbed Conquest in the neck with a very heavy pain depressant.
"Sithspit!" Conquest cried, his hands grasping at the frozen ground below him from the sudden sting of the injection.
After helping Conquest get his armour back on and locked in, Rout quickly crawled back to his firing position at the wall, the already distressingly large number of enemy had now doubled. This looked to be the last mission of the Nexu Squad.
"Stop staring trooper and return fire!" Assail ruthlessly screamed, as the frightening barrage of enemy fire endlessly bore down upon them.
With Conquest joining in, all five Clones traded volley fire with the enemy. Killing those closest and moving on down the slope as precise and rapidly as they could. Bodies laid jumbled and broken, droids flickering on and off from wounds that had rendered them useless. But hope had began to run thin for Nexu Squad and their mission priority. Ammunition only lasted so long, and they were nearly dry.
"Hold the line!" Assail bellowed as a pair of grenades fell just short of their position on the opposite side of the wall. Exploding in to a plume of frozen soil and grit in to the air. As another soldier began to rear his arm back to lob one more grenade Assail caught him centre mass with a perfectly timed shot. Dropping him backwards, and leaving the primed grenade to explode in the ranks of men that had been coming up behind. Bodies tore apart like wet paper, with limbs sent spinning and soaring in opposite directions from the frames they used to inhabit.
"Nice shot!" Overwhelm quickly interjected.
The celebration however was spitefully cut short.
"You've got to be kidding. . . " Breakthrough groaned, as a droid tank came lumbering out through the undergrowth, trailing torn vines and bramble from it's cannon turret as it hovered in to position at the base of the slope.
"Go!" Conquest said sternly, grabbing Assail by his shoulder with one hand while quickly shoving a datadisk against his chest with the opposite. "This needs to make it to Command. It's the location of the Rebel's main base here in the North and all of our Intel on it."
"Sir, our mission is to extract--"
"Your mission is to get this to General Adenn."
"You'll be killed if you stay here, sir." Rout inserted.
"And what better way for a Clone to go? It's a birth-born Army now, brothers. I wasn't created to retire to civilian life." Conquest admitted, as the volume of enemy fire began to taper off. "Heart to Empire, Life to the Legion." he recited, it was the 13th Legion's motto.
Assail braced Conquest firmly on his shoulder with one hand, nodding to the ARC Trooper. After a single nod he rose up in to a crouch, and looked to his Squad. "Let's go. We can still make the Rendezvous with Stormbreaker."
"Good luck, sir." Overwhelm said as he and Breakthrough slid by.
As Nexu Squad vanished over the back wall of the destroyed building, Conquest pulled his helmet off and leaned backwards against his cover. His eyes gazing up in to the slate gray skies, he knew as a clone his path had always been destined to end on some random battlefield and planet. But part of him wondered how it would have been as a civilian. Warm bed, in a quiet home. No screams, no explosions, no blaster fire. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. "Nope." He chuckled, air exhaling quickly from his lungs. The quiet life wasn't him. Reaching down he grabbed up his helmet and crushed it back down on to his head. There would be no end more perfect than this, buying those precious few extra minutes for his Clone brothers to escape, taking out as many treacherous dogs as he could before his lungs drew their last breath and heart pumped to it's final beat.
Helmet on, he shouldered around to face the wall he had been leaning against. Unholstering both his custom Westar-34 blaster pistols. He tapped the barrel of one twice against his helmet, the pain from his wound had vanished completely now. He could hear the footsteps of men just on the other side of the wall, and at that, he jumped in to action.
As soon as he broke cover he began firing. One, two, three, six shots all in succession. Felling all closest to him with complete pinpoint accuracy. But six dead did not even dent the opposition. They began to fire again, swarms of hissing blaster fire swung in widely, chewing the stone to splinters all around him as he stalked slowly to his right, unleashing his own furious shots unphased by the amount of opposition.
A devastation blast from the parked tank obliterated a section of the wall to his far left. Flame and stone debris showered the entire hilltop, and shook Conquest enough to force him to spin in behind a stone pillar. His elbows tucked in to his chest, forearms pointed upwards. By the time he shifted back around, roughly twenty rebel and droid soldiers had finally made it to the top and were behind the wall. He fired at anything moving. Dropping five in a single volley of fire, as another ground-shaking blast disintegrated the walls just a few paces behind him.
Conquest stumbled forward towards a young Algarian rebel, but before the soldier could level off his rifle for a shot. The Clone had swiped the side of the barrel with a solid strike, knocking it's sight away from him, while following through with a powerful elbow strike to the side of the teens face. But before he could reposition himself to continue trying to halt the enemy advance, he felt a heavy impact on his left shoulder. His legs buckled and he fell backwards against a wall. He tried to raise his opposite arms blaster, but before he could another shot struck him. This one on his right hip. On the ground, both of his pistols dropped. He felt one more bolt enter his body through the back of his right shoulder. He grunted painfully, and fell on to his side.
Standing before him was a female twi'lek her flesh as white as ivory, he recognized her immediately. Siyen Rha. One of the leaders of the Algarian rebellion. She looked disgusted, as she peered from one direction to the next.
"Where's the unit that came to extract you?!" She demanded to know.
But Conquest didn't reply, he offered a simple, painful laugh as he shifted over on to his back.
"They're still out there, get after them." Siyen shouted, then without hesitation she focused her pistol on to Conquest, and squeezed a single round in to the visor of his helmet.
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Friday, 11 Nov 2011, 8:33 AM | Message # 28 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
| The dead move like the wind, or at least they do as they manifest to me. They appear to have no real substance. They are ethereal, diaphanous. Though they are, unfortunately, very real. Sometimes before they manifest to me. I have a vision of their last moments. Through their eyes, and not as though I were watching a play unfold.
I don't know how much time passes. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe time works differently, and instead of passing, it slows down. What I do know. Is that after my trip into another body. Getting back into my own sucks bantha balls. It's like hitting water the wrong way after cliff diving. Add that to experiencing a death as if it were your own. Good times.
I think I handled it gracefully. In fact. Call the local Opera, because I'm pretty sure I reached a new high note.
*
A heart-wrenching scream ripped from her lungs. But there was nothing visibly hurting the Commander. Tears soaked her dark lashes and face, which was half obscured by her long hair. She was on her knees, with her hands bound behind her back. Her chest was hovered slightly above the ground, which was now soaked with her tears.
Her breathing came in harsh short spurts, and her eyes fluttered shut for a second. she counted slowly to ten, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. With a shudder, she rolled onto her back. Her eyes opened and lips parted.
"Conquest is dead. Need to help Nexu..." she said slowly, pronouncing each word carefully. She spent whatever strength she had left into her words. Hoping that whoever stood over her, would understand their intent. "Please believe me," she whispered. Her eyes closed, and her body relaxed.
For once Fajra Merav passed out completely sober.
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| General_Adenn | Date: Thursday, 01 Dec 2011, 1:34 PM | Message # 29 |
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Lieutenant
Group: Users
Messages: 41
Status: Offline
| (Got pretty sick, sorry. Rushed this out for you, so excuse the lack of detail! =P)
"Reports?" Adenn asked thoughtfully as he stood hunched over a tactical display of the Imperial line.
"Supply ferries are all on schedule, and trooper rotations are carrying on as planned." Jai'galaar informed as he slid down in to the Command dugout.
"And of the Rebels?" The Kaleesh general questioned.
"Our scouts have reported the Rebel trenches have been abandoned, they've fallen back in to Tarensii'a." The clone Captain of Shadow Company reported with a very slight sound of dread in his voice. He wasn't frightened of the battles that could take place in the city however, but rather the effort that would be needed to flush them out.
While Adenn surely had these same reservations, and most definitely wanted to avoid a conflict that could possibly take months on end and delay them to the next rain season. Preperations needed to be made before he felt comfortable sending the Imperials under his command in to what definitely was going to be a gritty, white-knuckle brawl. "Get the word out to Battery Command, Captain. We've been held up long enough trying to fix the problems in our own Campaign thanks to that foolish girl. It's time we start becoming aggressive." Adenn began, pushing himself upright. "I want firing missions four times a day for the next two weeks."
"There are a great number of civilians in Tarensii'a, General."
"I'm aware of that, Jai'galaar. Relief efforts will be made, but as of right now, they're willingly harbouring enemies of the Empire. We can't afford waiting anything out any longer than we have now. It's time to establish dominance."
"Of course, sir. I wasn't questioning your judgement." Jai'gaalar assured, Tarensii'a had been thoroughly bombed and blocked off for months already. But never at the volume the General was ordering. The Clone simply did not want to find himself, nor his Company tied down in humantarian aid after the battle for Tarensii'a would conclude. "Also, Commander Merav is prepped and ready to move. She's standing by at a shuttle now, sir."
Summer had finally set in over the Southern Expanse of Algarian, and while rain was still a common fixture of the season. Heat, sun, and intense humidity were but some of the newest obstacles for the Empire to overcome. The usual activities were all on display this afternoon. The dreary chatter of soldiers, the squelch of entrenchment tools in to slime and muck. Squad Leaders shouting viciously at the new shinies from the 902nd that were beginning their first of many long days on their Rotation. And of course the nuaseating smell of death and rot. It was an odour not even the most grisly veteren would ever get used to.
It didn't take long for Adenn and Jai'galaar to get to where Fajra was being held. The young girl infact was forced down upon her knees, her wrists secured tightly behind her back at the bottom of the landing ramp to the Shuttle that was to carry her out of here. Just like the rest of the soldiers, she had been without a shower since her arrival here outside of Tarensii'a, and as she sat with two armed soldiers on either side of her. Hundreds of eyes seemed to watch the her in this disgrace.
"Commander Fajra Merav. . " Was all that the alien said as he and Jai'galaar came to a pause directly infront of her.
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| Fajra_Merav | Date: Friday, 02 Dec 2011, 8:02 AM | Message # 30 |
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Major general
Group: Users
Messages: 258
Status: Offline
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"You act as if you're actually a soldier, a comrade of these creatures. Surely you realize you are not. You understand that position in society has allowed you opportunity to mock lead a 'fabled' unit, correct? I mean, do you sincerely believe these things respect you? After all, what has the fabulous Fajra Merav accomplished in her life? What hardships has she known? I mean, look at you. You're sick, a filthy wreck. You should be ashamed and embarrassed. You'll be joining myself and the Oynx Fist this evening, I highly suggest you clean up before the briefing."
Colonel Dakkari's words sifted through her thoughts like a broken record. She had responded in kind, camouflaging her true emotions with a devil-may-care attitude. If he only knew what hardships she has traversed since their little chat. And how quickly he'd forgotten their past, and the damage he left behind. No. He didn't forget. He just didn't care.
She was tired of feeling the weight of the galaxy. Tired of being scrutinized beneath the gazes of her comrades. Her amber eyes would settle upon General Adenn, and Captian Jai'galaar as they approached. It was normally easy to read her thoughts, her eyes and facial expressions were like an open book, but at times she knew when to close it.
Dirt covered her sun-kissed skin, clothes, and boots. She sat back on her heels, so that she wasn't bent forward. Her dark brown tresses were unbound, and nearly reached the ground behind her back. What was once an athletic build was now replaced by a small frame and a gaunt face. The heat felt good on her skin, and for a moment she fixed her gaze to the sky. The air was humid, not the dry heat of the Soterios summers she used to be fond of. But it didn't matter. She loved the heat.
Long lashes licked her skin as her eyes fluttered open. Those soulful, and vigorous amber pools found their faces again. "General Adenn...Captain Jai'galaar."
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