Log:Avishan Campaign II
OOC Date: August 25, 2022
Location: Avishan
Participants: Aldera Squad, Bors Thul, Ban Iskender, Ejnar Celchu, Ulani Kalgaav, Aryn Cortess
Avishan is an icy world not unlike Hoth, with a whispering wind that feels constant and capable of cutting through the thickest clothing and finding some way to bring a chill. The base Aldera Squad has found is hidden by the storm, and it's during the storm they land, disappearing between two jutting ridges and icy walls to look at a structure built into the ice itself. The landscape provides a natural shield against the worst parts of the storm, making it easy to land upon the ice shelf, but they can see the vortex/blizzard above, threatening to lower itself into the crevice where they hide now.
This ice shelf is an air field of sorts, and at one time hosted a squadron of fighters. Now, it is empty, not because of age; Aldera Squadron had ended the garrisoned squad, thus making the landing area vacant of crafts. However, Panteer snowtroopers are already setting up a hasty defense outside the main hangar, using barricade for cover while firing at the landing crafts.
Aldera 3 comes in for a rough landing, hitting the ice shelf and sliding upon its skids, but the pilot abandons the confines of the control cabin to leap into the air in a sudden display of acrobatics. Whilst Aryn's craft slides on, her droid taking over the remainder of the landing sequence, Aryn lands upon the ground, having activated her lightsaber mid-jump, she has it available to draw the fire for the rest of the squad.
Unfortunately, comms are not functioning. Ensign Saronno has remained in the storm to jam the area and prevent any Panteer transmission from escaping the base.
Laser fire pours toward the lone Jedi at the moment, providing much needed 'cover' for the others to land and join in the assault.
Tapping controls to program in a landing with one hand and handling the stick with the other, Aldera Leader screeches in with all the aplomb one who has been in regular proximity to the Lord Thul might expect. Flying in his cramped armor in preparation for this op, the nobleman's last actions before his canopy seals begin breaking is to send his programmed data to It to complete,
<"Keep her hot, eh?"> the cockpit hatch slides back beneath the top mounted cannon while the e-wing is still coasting when Bors hits the ground in a crouch to let the wing pass over and then pops up to head towards Aryn's flank, heavy carbine pulled off his back,
<<"Well, Your Grace, they certainly know how to pick their spots - do they not?">
Ban Iskender brings Aldera 4 into a landing rather more cautiously, resulting in less skidding and a very precise landing given the difficult conditions, but in counterpoint, he is not so swift as Aryn to clear the cockpit, draw his glowing sword, and hasten to join Aryn in shielding the squad from enemy fire on her flank opposite Bors.
Lord Ejnar Celchu is a damn good pilot but the cross wind coming into the icy landing cliff proved for a bit of extra concentration. The E-Wing Aldera 06 slams down, the hydraulics and supports of the landing feet creaking and scraping as it slides to a stop much like Aryn's. However there is no jump from the canopy as it opens, instead the Human climbs out and hops onto the swooped wing. He slides down and onto his feet, drawing his Songsteel blade.
Ejnar wears his void armor much like the did on the Cloudship along with a utility belt for a few extra items. He looks towards Bors as he arrives and moves t the other side of Aryn as the advance on the base.
Aldera Two alights on the planet's surface, jostling and bumping as it goes. Better suited for zero atmosphere or calmer weather, the blustery storms of this world prove difficult under her wings. Yet land she does and a bulkier-than-usual pilot climbs awkwardly out of the cockpit.
Ulani isn't used to the extra mass of the Void suit, but she was less keen to freeze to death so she will endure the trials. "Pick them, indeed. What a terrible place. Well suited for those who would align themselves with a murderer and usurper."
The hasty disembark is largely overshadowed by the constant blaster fire coming from the squad holding the line to the hangar. Bolts rain in from this fatal funnel as the storm continues to RAGE high above, showering everyone with glistening crystals of ice that aren't quite large enough to cause damage (because thankfully they were not falling at terminal velocity), but it was enough to make them realize it was dangerous and distracting outside.
Aryn, who is in the throes of combat, casually bats down a trio of blaster bolts in a graceful flurry of motion, concluding a spin with a final slash that directed another bolt to the ice, pocking the terrain near her feet. "My count is seven!" Aryn cries out over the chaos, and she begins closing the distance of 20m toward the 7 targets hunkered behind cover. With poor visibility, the Panteer forces engage what they can see, two glowing swords moving through the white fog.
Skittering and slipping on ice, the black and silver katarn armor is pelted by snow and Bors's boots cut jagged divots where the treads try to grip and keep hibm upright. Hustling forward until he is forced by gravity (and probably age) to one knee, skidding to a halt by a hump of humped up ice.
<"Bugger.">
Rifle shouldered and sighting along it, Bors takes pot shots at the snowtroopers attempting to hold them back, ducking back slightly when blaster bolts come racing past, <"Hey!"> externals engaging, <"We could still discuss this!"> a small, short lived, geyser erupts from a plasma impact just shy of his shoulder.
<"Or not! That's fine!">
Ban Iskender voices in answer to Aryn's estimation, "Understood," just before moving smoothly into a run, balanced and swift, but not an outright sprint over the ice. The sword held before him is raised in a brief salute, before the gentleman plants a gloved hand on the barricade and vaults over it. Landing immediately in close quarters, the dragoon cuts down a pair of the defending rifleman, drastically reducing the volume of fire directed outward. He speaks no more words, conserving his breath in the deathly frigid air.
Ejnar is attempting to run to the next barricade, what ever type of cover that might be, with sword in hand. However, between the wind and the slippery surface he ends up rear first and sliding towards the same lump of ice Bors occupied. He stops himself with his feet and scoots himself upright into a seated position. <<"This is the suck, aye?">>
He moves to his knees to chance a glance towards the enemy front once more and plan his next frog leap ahead.
The barrage is immediate and if it weren't for the lightsaber-wielding royalty up ahead, they'd all be pinned down rather quickly. By the grace of their wiles and abilities, the group can advance. Well, some of them can. Others are getting caught up in snow and ice. Understandable. "I'll cover you!" Ulani manages to get some traction and advances until she is in respectable range to fire a shot. But the snow and wind does it's damnest to protect the foes beyond it's blizzary curtain. And she's trying to squint throught her augmented reality helmet to keep track of Ban and Aryn who are further ahead.
Ban is the first to break through the fog and close the distance to the group, and they are frightened by the efficiency of the soldier bearing in on them. His presence effectively appends their fixed position and they begin to fire while moving away. Two fall in the attack, and when Aryn suddenly emerges slipping-and-sliding along the ice, it doesn't seem possible that she can manage an attack, too. Yet, she arrives and slashes one soldier down before turning on another and raising her gloved hand to intercept the blast of a rifle. The bolt disappears into her hand, the force absorbing the energy and cycling it through Aryn's body until the ice cracks beneath her boots from the redirection of that kinetic energy. She looked unharmed, and if it weren't for the helmet, the snowtrooper would have appeared confused by the display.
Four troopers remain in total, running from the two jedi and into the fog where Lt Celchu, Captain Thul, and Lt Kalgaav are waiting for them. They have no idea the soldiers are there until they're right up on them.
Beyond the defense of the hangar, the hangar bay is an open, vast space. Much like Hoth's Echo base, the ice has been carved out by laser and metal plating constitutes the flooring. More soldier are moving inside the bay, attempting to set up a laser (machine-gun) nest, while a squad of five pick places behind unused snowspeeders for cover. Seven (7) in total are inside the hangar, and four (4) remain outside, in the vicinity of Ejnar, Bors, and Ulani.
<"Apt, if course."> Helmeted head bobbing to Ejnar as the t-shaped visor of the old Republic armor flaress, ion wiping away snow and moisture that strike it. Watching Ulani succeed in rushing to position, blaster raising whilst he leans out from behind cover to level it and sight down range, using his suit systems for magnification.
The first triple burst from the old carbine creates a neat line from belly to neck on one of the troopers, kicking them over as if struck by an I-Beam swaying on hooks, forcing their compatriot to dip to one side before spinning for balance when the next burst takes their shoulder and melts armor over the clavicle. <"I find myself at loss for how to interpret that... The Suck..."> externals clicking up loud again, <"Hey! Hey there! Wouldst thee agree we find ourselves, on both sides, in The Suck, as my compatriot has called it?">
May as well pool them for answers.
Ban Iskender espies the repeating blaster position being deployed, the nobleman seeks to on e more dash to close quarters. Alas, the metallic flooring is a treacherous surface with snow and ice choking the treads of his boots, and after a distinctly less-than-dignified moment of threatened balance thwarts his advance, Ban recovers himself, draws in a deep breath and extends his hand toward the foe. Green eyes go closed as the breath is let out in a projection of will and power.
Ejnar glances to Ulani and nods. In a brief moment of respite, the Alderaanian Lord readies himself to sprint, digging his boots into the ice. Then as soon as Bors starts to blast the troopers with his carbine, he takes off. <<"You're thinking too hard on it, Captain!">> He shouts back towards the Squadron commander before merging with the Sentry line. His first act is to cut down the poor soul who just took one of Bors' blaster bolts, ending him in a spectacular violent fashion. He slides to a stop, one leg stretched out before almost 'skating' towards one of the other Sentries. He cuts deep, but sliding forward and swinging requires a good amount of balance... and Ejnar loses his ending up on his rear yet again on the follow up attack. <<"OUCH!">>
Though he starts laughing as he watches the enemy fall in the same fashion he did trying to swipe at him with their rifle stock.
"The Suck." Ulani ponders over the term but makes no further commentary of it. She gets the context, but the delivery has that quaint Alderaan Nobility charm to it. The kind that knows of a phrase but isn't /quite/ sure how it goes. The light of her rifle brightens up her helmet's screen momentarily; a shot that brings another foeman to their knees yet she is not interested in downing him completely. So long as the threat is neutralized.
Advancing towards the base, Ulani looks behind her to check in on Bors and Ejnar. They both seem to be doing relatively okay. She does stiffle a ill-timed laugh as the enemy attempts a swing at Celchu and ends up on their rear instead. This planet takes no prisoners.
Aryn joins Ban, sliding over the metal flooring but somehow managing to preserve her balance. She seems poised to attack but has not arrived in time to cut down the repeating blaster, so it begins to fire at the two of them (though her mainly.) She runs and slides behind cover, the bolts in close pursuit, raining sparks with each connection. The other soldiers, still entrenched behind airspeeder cover, begin to shoot at Ban and Aryn collectively, but they're not having much luck either.
Outside, the remaining defender attempts to strike Ejnar with the stock of their rifle, but they put too much flair and twist of the hip, resulting in a spectacular wipe out on the ice. Their fall was distinctive, because their armor made that cracking noise like /something/ was broken. They cry out in pain, rotating slowly and wheezing for breath; it seemed that no one had taught this soldier how to fall, thus his wipe out stole the air from his lungs.
Captain Thul, and the Lieutenants Kalgaav and Celchu can see inside the hangar. More importantly, they can see the functioning laser repeater nest, and the hunkered down soldiers fighting their Jedi companions. Ban is in clear view, but Aryn is laying down on the ground behind a crate while the repeater is laying waste to her cover.
Standing and moving forward, <"Techie, Mamma's Boy, one of you be so kind?"> blink target bracketing the remaining soldier outside whilst he moves on the bounce. The short rifle in his grip spitting fire through the doors that pelts against the reinforcements in the gunner nest,
<<"Three, Bang, I am providing fire support.">> they really should get the Princess a proper field name. Three. What is that? More plasma hailstorming and setting the armor of the trooper firing on Aryn alight. Forcing them to huddle and attempt to recover from the shock of the injury before their helmet rocks to one side, dragging their body with it and ending the suppression Her Majesty and Ban alike.
<<"Clear.">>
Moving closer to getting inside, glad for the space-walk seals keeping him from freezing solid.
Ban Iskender is a curious sight, eschewing cover with green sword held upright and unmoving as he walks into the teeth of the entrenched blasterfire, bolts disappearing entirely as they burn out upon the invisible shield he had projected. He nods once- not that Bors can see it- in response to the commander's update, but says nothing, remaining focused upon the shield and his target: the repeater nest blazing away at Aryn's position. Once he draws near enough, the dragoon lapses back into the speed of swordplay, striking down the two gunners with a pair of cuts, and making ruin of their weapon with a third.
Ejnar doesn't waste much time after laughing at the wheezing hurt Sentry before he getting back to his feet. He carefully makes his way over towards the squirming and wheezing enemy. <<"Sorry, pal. Make better choices in the next life.">>
Aldera 06 then thrusts his blade twice, piercing him through the chest. The wheezing turns to gurgling and the squirming slows to a stop. As Bors calls, Ejnar turns and runs into the hanger, <<"Catching up... sorry about that.">>
The repeater is going to be a problem, though by the time Ulani is even halfway in range, it's made not a problem anymore. Boots skid in the snow, slowing her approach so that she may brace herself to draw up her rifle once more. She visably cringes when one who pokes their helmeted head around the corner suddenly disappears against her shot. "Sorry." And she does mean it, even if they can't or ever will hear it. "Everyone still doing okay?"
VVVVIIIP!
A shot breezes right past her, causing the young woman to slide away from it. "I wasn't asking you!"
"Thanks!" Aryn calls out to the combined support from Captains Thul and Iskender, who ruinate the repeater nest and lay waste to the weapon itself. That does not stop all the fighting, however. She rejoins the fray, finding one of the soldiers in cover and cutting their position in two. They stumble back, away from the blade that obliterated their cover, but Aryn showed now hesitation in her movement to slide the blue into their chest for a succinct killing blow. She withdraws the blade and turns to look for the remaining resistance.
One soldier mantles cover, firing at Ulani and closing the distance. Another soldier holds their position and fires at Ban, missing. Then, from high up above, on one of the catwalks, a Sniper finds purchase on the Dragoon, planting a bolt and following it up with another shot that sparks off the metal flooring and showers the vicinity with sparks.
"Sniper!" Aryn calls out, finding a place to plant her back behind cover before turning to see if Ban was ok.
<"Well enough!"> a blaster bolt explodes against his shoulder cowling, the reinforced plastoid holding and disbursal weaves eliminating kinetic and thermal energy that would have otherwise punched him to the ground. Then his heads up display is giving a fire warning, from a new angle. The bolt launched from on high bracketed and then a trace-line draws his sight to whence it had originated.
<<"I see him, targeting!">> EE-3 lifting and barking its throaty report, for the sniper their walkway benefits them with defilade from fire, combined with their own reflexes leaving only glowing metal and showering sparks in the wake of his volley, <<"Bit of a pickle striking the blighter.">>
Hustling for cover. in the meanwhile, should any of the gunners get a clear shot on him while he angles for the sharpshooter.
Ban Iskender easily parries a bolt fired by one of the remaining troopers, before being struck from an unexpected direction: above and beyond. Although the missile's burning energy is absorbed into his body reflexively, the flightsuit now sports a black edged hole at the spot where the knight was struck: squarely above one butt cheek. <<"I am unharmed, the bolt only struck my dignity,">> he relays dryly. Turning and attempting to pull away the sniper's weapon, he finds no luck.
Ejnar arrives just in time for sniper fire to rain down on the rest of the party. There wasn't anything he could do about that. Though, there was something he could do about the two remaining enemy still inside the main area. He turns his focus to them and charges one. Two strikes, one a sweep of the leg with his blade and the other a piercing stab through the heart.
The Blade is ripped from the dead enemy, a gloopy trail of blood falling from his sharp and luminescent Songsteel blade. Ejnar turns and stalks towards the next target. He gives a one handed slash across his opponent's back, causing him to reach back at the pain, stagger forwards and turn around abruptly to see the culprit.
Even the greenest of horns learns quickly that when someone yells 'Sniper!' that you do not bother to look around and see if you can spot them first. The /first/ order of business is to find cover then figure out what to do after that. Having already been running up towards the laser turret, Ulani is now diving behind it and trying to make herself a smaller target. Which is harder to do in medium armour than it is light armour.
"Horrible place. Horrible people. Eeep!" As she is grumbling gently to herself, Ulani spots the remaining snowtrooper hobbling angrily towards her, the barrel of his gun rising up towards her. Instincts pull her trigger after the squeak and down he goes before his intended shot can go off.
Turning her gaze above, Aryn sees the spot Bors has tried to shoot but to no avail. Before the sniper can strike again, Aryn seizes him with the Force, raising her hand as the influence simultaneously grips him. He drops his weapon and screams in terror, and for good reason, because the Princess pulled him over the edge of the walkway and allowed gravity to carry him the rest of the way down.
The fire fight's conclusion is punctuated by a deathly splat, the sniper smashing into one of the speeders below and impaling himself upon one of the relays. He coughs up blood a final time and turns his gaze to look out at the snow one last time.
Aryn turns in place, looking for other foes and finding none, so she recalls the blue blade in a mournful static hiss sound. Before she can comment on it though, a voice crackles over the intercom.
<"Alderaanians."> Pause. <"I am Ser Rigel of House Taggart, a bannerman of the one whom you call Usurper. Honor demands I face you in combat. I am committed to it, though perhaps we might strike an accord before I emerge?">
Another pause. <"I challenge one of your number to a duel. Should I fall, I am subject to the justice you deem necessary, and I honorably relinquish my charge of this facility, and the intelligence it holds to you. However, should I prove victorious against your champion, I kindly ask that I be permitted to leave, peacefully, honor intact. Are these agreeable?">
Steps slowing at last with his rifle shouldered and his helmeted head tipping at the other's speech, Bors finds himself in a momentary conundrum. "Pity, Lars would have been champing at the bit for this opportunity..." the monocle over his right eye scrolling data not on his helmet display.
<<"Lord Ban - I do believe you would be optimal as Champion for Her Grace.">> noted quickly before switching back to amplified externals, <"Agreeable. But should thee have hidden accomplice that break the right to challenge then all requests for term or quarter shall be denied out of hand.">
Lord Thul halts and watches, visor flaring as debris is cleaned from it.
Ban Iskender archers a black brow at the transmission from the facility's unseen commander. As to the proposition, he looks toward Bors to voice, with a nod. <<"I should be glad of the opportunity, sir. Weapons shall be matched, I expect,">> he surmises, deactivating his lightsaber with telltale finality.
As there seems to be an end to the fighting and a single combat challenge being accepted, the rougher noblemen Ejnar moves over towards a crate that's just a little bit taller than himself. He leans up against it, crossing one foot over the other. He reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a foil pack of savory crisps.
His helmet unclasps with a hiss and he sets it on top of the crate. The foil bag makes that telltale sound as he fiddles with it, opening the pack and fishing for crisps. Pulling a few out he drops them into his mouth and chews loudly.
CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH, GULP.
Matters of duels and honourable challenges and such have only been touched upon in her noble tutoring, so Ulani decides to remain silent at that unseen yet clearly heard request. There are others present far better suited to answer such things. Instead, she keeps herself tucked up against the base of the base of the now broken laser repeater. Right next to a panel...
Unable to resist, she seizes this opportunity to pry open the small metal door and take a peek inside. Circuits are sparking and, though she can't smell it through her helmet, she just knows that bite of burning wires. Still. Seems functional enough. She digs out her datapad, trying to keep it as close to her as possible so it doesn't freeze over, and plugs it directly into the port. "Hmmmm."
<"I agree to your terms, Commander. Rest assured, I am all that remain of this facility's defense."> Assured of an opportunity to fight honorably among the nobles of Alderaan, the door leading to the facility's inner command chamber open, and an armored man emerges absent his helmet. He is nearing mid-forties by the look of his salt and peppered hair, and the heavy beard shows him no favor in hiding his age, either. His armor is ornate, likely handed down through the ages of his House. Wrapped and carried beneath one arm, the Knight has matching swords, and he sets them upon a table nearby, releasing them from the garb they've been wrapped in so the team may see them. "The matched weapons. I invite the Champion to choose, and I will take the remaining."
The Knight begins to unhook the cape upon his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the deck near his feet. When one sword is chosen, he accepts the other and draws out the naked blade in a near silent rasp of metal to leather. He tests the weight carefully, and takes his position.
"Sir," Aryn says from one side, having hooked her lightsaber to her hip. "Need you go through with this? Can you not just surrender?"
The Knight regards Aryn a moment and dips his head in respect. "Alas, we are enemies, and my oath must be carried out. When Knights say words, they must be prepared for the consequences those words bring. This is how it must be." -- Aryn nods, and steps back.
Ser Rigel comments, taking his stance. "Might I know the name of the champion I face ere we begin?" -- "Father guide the justice found in our swings." And he steps forward after the introduction, prepared to fight.
The younger swordsman nods once, naming himself, "Captain Ban Iskender, of the Viceroyal Lir Dragoons," favoring his military rank over noble title in the moment." A short dip of the head and shoulders in acknowledgement of propriety rather than deference and he selects a blade, with a word of compliment spared for the condition of the dueling set.
Standing at ready, despite it being a called duel, locking his stance with carbine held still against his shoulder, Bors watches and waits. Any expression had is masked by the helmet of the intimidating piece of aged hardware encapsulating him. Like some golem out of ancient legends now - holding guard over the proceedings.
The urge to natter is still there, but years of training in various arenas is keeping his tongue in check.
The crinkle of Ejnar fishing out some more crisps is the only comment he has on the current situation, his eyes looking on with interest as if he was watching a sporting event.
The Knight, Ser Rigel, steps into the attack, his blade met with his opponent's each strike. It's not clear in the moment that he's been hit so precisely until there's a pause in their flurry and they're left to circle one another. He cannot put a lot of weight on his right leg as a result, but he shores up his defense in a different stance, prepared for the next attack from the young Dragoon, resolve in his expression.
Ban Iskender raises his borrowed sword in salute, before relaxing a half step backward into a practiced guard. The opening exchange is swift and severe: Ban offers an opening thrust which his experienced foe easily parries, but follows up with with a fierce draw cut placed just above his opponent's right thigh plate. Even with first blood drawn, neither falters again in their defense.
Those appreciative of the nuances of dueling footwork and swordplay might find great interest in the durasteel exchange, but to the casual eye, it is a lot of small movements too fast and clashing to register. Nothing at all like the holovids. Ban ultimately counters a deep lunge from Rigel with a short, hard parry turned into a ferocious chop that cuts into the elder knight's armored sword arm. The blade falls, Ban's borrowed sword points to the throat, and he bids, "I commend your courage, ser, and request your surrender."
Led into a lunge, the elder Knight is not prepared for Ban's sharpened swordplay and finds his own grip disabled and the blade he once held clattering on the floor between them. Before he could dip to collect it, the chilly steel of Ban's weapon at his throat stops him in place. He swallows instinctively, at the mercy of the Green Knight in this moment. As a show of mutual respect, Ser Rigel raises his hands. "I yield, sir. You have my thanks."
Stepping back, Ser Rigel finds Aryn at his side. "If you will, sir, I intend to see to your wound before it becomes something more fatal."
"I consent, your Grace." Removing the sword at his side, which is kept in its scabbard, he offers it to the team; it is a symbol of his command. "As promised, I relinquish my command of this facility. You will find what you need in there.." Rigel nods toward the command room.
Ban Iskender does not reach to accept the offered sword of the garrison's commander. Rather he steps to one side a d looks to Bors, expecting the squadron leader to formally accept the surrender.
<"Six, secure Ser Rigel once three has attended."> Bors states as he approaches, removing his helmet to give the other the respect of seeing his face,
"By the Accords of Nobility maintained by these The Great Houses of Alderaan, in the name of Aryn, Princess Cortess, Successor to Leia, Successor to Bail of House Organa - I Lord Bors of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Thul, Champion of Uypiia place you prisoner and so the Countesses ward." tone and expression most serious as he continues, "Ser Rigel, thee has an opportunity now; for if you become a hand in the march to bring peace to Alderaan and unification." brow raising,
The fallen blade of the foeman is nodded towards, "The honor of the victory and capture goes to House Iskender, the weapons of the contest his. As much as I know this will prick your heart, good ser. Ere yet there may be chance to redeem and regain them. But for now, until you are comfortable in Gravenheim, you are thus my charge."
That done his helmet is pulled back on and he speaks to the team, <"I'll send word out, make sure we're secure. This should make an excellent F.O.B. if not a more permanent holding for our needs.">
Serendipity would have it that Ejnar finishes his small bag of crisps just as the final blow is dealt and Ser Rigel yields. He crinkles the foil into a ball and tosses it over towards one of the dead bodies. Then, grabbing his helmet, he pushes off the crate and puts it back on the seal hissing in a high pitched wine as the suit re-pressurizes.
He sheaths his lightly glowing Songsteel blade and moves towards Ser Rigel. <<"Affirmative.">> In response to Bor's order. He puts a hand on Rigel's shoulder and waits for Aryn to do her thing. <<"Lord Lieutenant Ejnar Celchu... of House Celchu.">> He pauses noticing the redundancy and quietly curses himself. <<"A pleasure to meet you, Ser Rigel.">>
Getting little from the laser turret itself, Ulani has finally gotten up from her huddled position and made her way past where Ser Rigel had emerged. If she concerned at all about the duel? Oh, absolutely not. She has seen Ban at work. It's only a matter of how quickly he will fell his foe and this can be laid to rest.
So into the now vacated room she mosies. Pausing to look around, she finds herself in some kind of Command center for this outpost. "Ah. Makes sense." Moving further in, she communicates to the rest: <"Might have found something. At least I hope so."> Ever the curious sort when it comes to anything technological, Ulani approaches what seems to be the main console and once again plugs her datapad which is now starting to show frost at the corners of her flickering screen. "Hold it together," she pleads with the device.
Minutes pass and the armoured tech returns to the main room soon after the Ser's defeat: making her approach just as Rigel points in that same direction. "Indeed I have." The datapad is now away once more and in her thick-gloved hand, Ulani is holding a holocube. To the first cleared, flat surface she finds, it is set down and she waits for the others to join. "I believe I was able to retrieve a final transmission." And to that, she presses the button and allows it to play.
Aryn begins to attend to Rigel's wounds quietly, using an open satchel to draw out the tools needed. When the sword is accepted, Rigel relaxes into a seat and looks up when Lord Celchu addresses him. "Celchu, you say? I served with your father. He's a good man.."
In the command room, the stone-faced holo image of Lord-Marshal Ulgo appears. His graveled core-accent voice cuts through the silence as he addresses the other holo-council members attending the recorded command meeting.
"My daughter has been captured, and this ruse of a rebellion has been eliminated. I am to understand Ser Rigel has a detention facility on Avishan?"
"That is correct, your Lordship." Rigel answers in the recording.
"Then I am sending her to you for safe keeping until this.. conflict is done. -- The rest of you, move your garrisons into place, and activate the defense grid. The Grand Duchess wants Leilani locked down and protected from air incursion. Those behind the Cortess banner have come too far. They move no further; is that understood?"
A small chorus of agreeing lords saying, 'Yes, My Lord' follow before Ulgo concludes the transmission. "Very well. Then we have nothing more to discuss. Orders will be disseminated shortly." The image fades.
