Log:Mandalore: Shieldbreaker

The Assault on King Mountains Shield Generator

OOC Date: March 31, 2022
Location: King Mountain, Mandalore
Participants: Fae Renta, Valeska Kora, Zevin Daodhri, Narsai Ordo, Hahtavi Kora, Sumi Kora, Zelo Parrai, Jallo Dara and Hadrix Kora as GM Revivers, Clan Kora

Explosions and heavy repeater fire had churned sand and soil to what would be churned to a morass if there was water for it. A cobbled together sail barge lay on one side, the round of its shallow keel facing the mountain and the bulbous ad-hoc construction of the last shield generator and its small barrier wall. The volleys of fire come in waves, with the rare mixture of both sides, ordinance airbursting and the screams of wounded or dying a keening underscore to it all.

Since the destruction of the main power plant the back up, and less capable, power supplies within were being drained rapidly to try and maintain the shields protecting much of King Mountains exterior, particularly the massive Beskar gates that would allow an assault to enter if breeched. Gaps were opening, small groups had gotten within and set up blocks to create more holes for ingress. The clans of the Plateau had sent troops, Alor'Zatti of Saiwali committing their precious sail-speeders and having lost a third already - the most recent being her 'flagship' which now provided defilade for what was becoming the the primary assault point.

<<"We're establishing a wall, Ryder is providing some of the shields that Sana employed while hunting former members.">> Hadrix's voice over comms, to filter out the roar of battle around, sounded and the shields being mentioned were being laid out to be taken on the 'safe' side of the overturned sail barge. No deflector screens, or shield arrays, most literally shields in their most primitive sense. Hunks of foamed duranium with a durasteel plate to reinforce - nearly the height of an average human and ported for a weapon to be mounted. <<"Those of you taking one, get next to one another and lock shields. Those who aren't, cover their advance.">> the shields themselves having leaves on a spring load, to help overlap on either side. <<"Make your choice and stack up - shield bearers up front, we've almost taken the Gate - but we need to break the lock so to speak.">> the big man himself hefting a shield and adjusting his grip before starting for the edge of the downed barge. Leading from the front.

Fae Renta? Hold heavy objects? Stand at the -front- of an advancing force and risk scuffing her pretty face. Oh honey.

No, she'll be at the back. Armed with a heavily modified Blastech A280 and munitions grade sass, the Hapan turns her eyes skyward to look up at the crisp blue sky above. Her eyes track downwards towards the pale white dunes of sand. Though ahead of them, that sea of sand is churning into glass from repeated blaster fire, behind them she spies a spot that, due to geography and geometry, has remained fairly pristine. It strikes her odd at just how pretty the sand looks up against that blue sky.

She ejects the Powercell from her A280 and slaps in a second one, turning her head and eyes forward towards where they are advancing to. Blue and yellow is replaced with blue, yellow, red, black, and brown. That A280 whines as its condensing coils spool up and Fae pulls a breath in through her nostrils, audible through the vocoder of her helmet.

She doesn't exhale for a long time.

Progress is progress even when it sounds like groaning metal being rendered asunder and the screams of the wounded mimicking much in the same. The crimson paint of Valeska's armour is showing the wear of war, flaked off in places from the constant sand-blasting Mandalore provides or pocked with dents and scorches from blaster bolts and slugs alike.

The orders come through as she is double-checking the charge on her rifle, helmet swiveling this way and that as she inspects the armour. Her armour may be showing advanced wear and tear but at least her carbine looks like it's been well taken care of. The armour will get its love later, no doubt. <"I'll cover the phalanx,"> she responds to the mission's leader, cracking a new power cell in and bringing her weapon to life with that lovely, ear-ringing song.

Hefting a shield is a much shorter man, identifiable by the black-purple armor as Zevin Daodhri. He tightens the leather straps of the shield over his left arm and raises and lowers it, getting a feel for the weight. <<"Been a piece since've used one a' these while I still had ammunition,">> comes his deep, smooth voice, tone dry. <<"Zevin on the wall. Let 'em try an' get close.">> His hand pauses next to his hip, where two weapons sit near each other: the revolver and the Z6 stun baton.

He activates the shield, its leaves spreading out so that the right overlaps with Hadrix and the left with whoever is next to him on the shield wall. <"Mmmm."> Who knows what the enemy will throw at them, this time? In a smooth motion his hand goes from empty, fingers flexed, to holding the stun baton covered with writing in lines of Mando'a, reaching its full extent with a click. <"I want you to, ye beasts.">

Standing in front of fire and drawing attention wasn't new for Narsai. Doing it with a heavy-ass piece of metal? Moreso. Still, her blaster carbine was still being modified and she was handy enough with her W-35 that she'd offer the cover to others.

Still, the readhead exhaled a breath as she lifted the weapon and reached to claim one of the shields. Days like this, the shortness that added to her evasion of blaster bolts sucked!

<<I'm with you Hadrix,>> she offers, reading her weapons and making to follow. <<Woe to anyone who decides to rush the shield wall.>>

Using a shield is /not/ something Hahtavi has ever done in his life - but if it's what Hadrix needs them to do, this Kora will take it up and do it. Haht hefts the heavy thing and has his Galaar on it's tactical sling so he can more easily use it one handed. Much more awkward and dextrous than usual, but the man wearing the black Dreadfinder armor moves to form up with the others, then waits for the order to advance.

For this action, Hahtavi's usual black armor is liberally coated with dust of Mandalore. <<"Hahtavi copies, ready.">> Breathing a little hard, he takes a moment to get his breath after hastening over the soft sand.

There is a lot of noise and death all around them all, but they are focused.

Sumi Kora adjusts in magnetic-capable boots, not quite enjoying the added weight but appreciating the functionality. Sana Ryder's visit with the shields also yielded a brief interaction with Hera Ryder, Sumi's daughter. Prior to battle, they exchanged words and the shorter daughter hugged Sumi before saying, "I wish you good fortune, mother." Sumi smirked, nodding in her stoic way and donned her helm to join the shield wall.

Her shield activates and Sumi places it before her, then angles her spear forward. <"Form up on me!"> Sumi calls out, activating the mag-seal on her boots to lock herself down with a loud -- KA-CHOOONK --

Holding the line takes strength. While the Nautolan is not willowy, he is of a leaner frame needed for swimming with muscles built more to that native locomotion than that of physical adversity. Needless to say, he's providing the covering fire. Of the two roles, that is something that Zelo feels he can do with aplomb. The E-11 is at the ready, black-pool eyes watching for targets and feet ready to move quickly as necessary.

The cobalt blue head in that custom-crafted H-visor'd helm stays low unless shots are being returned. <<"I'll try to reinforce if the need arises, but I'll call that the backup plan. For now, I have your backs.">> Literally.

Jallo looks around at the shields and then towards the location they're needing to plug the hole and takes a centering breath before he retrieves himself a shield from the pile of shields picking one up as he straps his left arm to the shield and starts to walk towards the other shield bearers reaching down to unclasp the spear at his thigh expanding it out one could hear the smile in his voice, <"I feel like this was made for me.">

<"See you on the other side."> the aristocratic growl meets Narsai's statement, leaning to bump his helmet against hers

Another shock of repeater fire sweeping from the exposed sands to chew glowing divots into the ventral plates of the downed repulsor barge. The gap in the shields made by the wreckage allowing crimson and viridian plasma bolts to scream through and the heat of an explosion chases after, the rocket impacting with the defense screen above the gap. Heads are ducked, cover sought and still others angle blasters to provide fire, trying to get the enemies heads down too.

Ca, the chief of the Wazza, raises a hand and a series of clicks go out over comms - the trio of repulsor buggies, now weighed down with plates of durasteel and with only the barest slits to see through, sliding into position. More Mandalorians of the different clans fighting under Fett's banner move, ready to form the wall when it starts. Clans of Savage Mandalore, those whom had returned from the stars. A chant had begun in their midst, rising with the building fervor,

'Kandosii sa ka'rota, Vode An, Manda'yaim a'den mhi, Vode An!' the old marching chant rippling up and down the line while Mandalorians slam their helmets together, pound fists on shoulder pauldrons, or die when an errant surge of superheated tibanna plasma rips them from their feet and casts them to Mandalore's rocky grounds.

<<"That's us. You heard Alor'Kora - form on her.">> Hadrix again, lifting his shield and setting his feet - ready to spring. On the other side of the field, heads lift at the momentary lull and from their ranks charge nearly a dozen in heavy plates reinforced with bone, weilding <<"In the speeders wake! Kote bal Ijaat, Mando'ade, taab'muun!">> Glory and Honor, Children of Mandalore, charge!

The buggies fire disposable, side mounted, thrusters that kick the small, over armored, craft through the gap with their pilots bailing out the back end to absorb fire and allow the shield bearers a chance to get through, get into position and prepare for the big push. Prepare for the immediate rush of savaage mandalorians closing the distance firing pistols, rifles, and swinging whatever hand weapons they have to use against the wall of durasteel erecting before them.

This is not precision warfare. This is knock down, drag out, war of attrition stuff. Fae Renta can't see much at all from her vantage point, but she can see a wall of bodies advancing towards them. A knotted mess of limbs and teeth and skin and muscle. Point that way and shoot. She exhales as she squeezes her trigger, blind firing towards the churning mass that spills like water out and towards them. None of her shots strike true, but she's none the wiser. There's too much plasma and too much smoke in the air for her to know one way or the other. She just keeps on shooting. Keeps on holding her breath.

There's that new -- yet very old -- song Valeska was waiting for. The Mandalorian battlecry. One of many. Mandalorians have no word for 'hero' but they are lousy for battle songs and chants. One for every day of the week for a month. Valeska is humming along to herself as the advancement begins; a song she had learned from Mir early on after he had joined the Woor'tra crew. Likely over a game of Sabaac that she lost to him embarassingly.

She doesn't sing the words, though. No, her mic is hot and no one needs to hear from a Cajun Mandalorian sounds like. But her throat can carry the tune well enough as she brings the first plucky nogging into her sights. <"One gunner, two gunner. Credit and chit."> Then right back to humming, her first two shots of the battle blasting outwards in rhythm.

<"One gunner down. One having a piss-poor day, yeah?">

Up through the gaps the jet-powered buggies plowed in the defensive line Zevin charges. It's not the nimble sort of dash characteristic of the man's fighting style; he lumbers. There's too much weight with this shield, and the need to keep the shield up in front of him so he doesn't get vaporized, for this to be a sprint.

The shieldbearer to the half-Echani's left moves more quickly, but takes three shots in the head and neck for their trouble. <"Fill the gap!"> he roars, huddling down for the first impact of the charging savages.

He stabs the Z6 stun baton right through the gap in the shield. The first warrior charging in with an axe in each hand falls to the ground. Twice more, with the distinctive 'punching' motion that drives the baton forward, he strikes the next berserker. His mace and sword fall to the ground.

Those two are unconscious for now, but they might not live through being stomped on by the advance. He sheds no tears for them. Instead he bangs his baton against the shield. Some of the blue lightning spiderwebs across the shield for a moment after the clang, a loud challenge to the mass of enemy infantry pouring in.

Shorter legs or not, Narsai moves at pace, her own shield locked with the clan Kora members as she lifts her pistol to the incoming tide of berserkers and squeezes the trigger, blasting one from his feet with the retort of the heavy handcannon.

Soon they'll be close, but the Ordo girl braces herself, ready for the impact of those first arrivals.

<"Kandosii sa ka'rota, Vode An, Manda'yaim a'den mhi, Vode An!"> Hahtavi knows this song well and lifts up his baritone to sing right along with them. He's shifted position to form up with Sumi in the shield wall. While he has his rifle in one hand on it's sling and the heavy shield on his other, Haht also has a KDY missile launcher slung over his back - should targets of opportunity present themselves and be more worth while to try for than using the shield.

But for the moment? He's following orders and in line with his aliit.

Savage beserkers are running at them with melee weapons. One comes right at Hahtavi. He shifts his position to turn the shield towards them and bracing his boots in the sand, he fires his Galaar right into them!

It doesn't seem to have killed the beserker but it put them down into the sand hurting. He's conscious of the shield wall he's to maintain as they continue to advance. Haht's face is grim behind his helmet but he keeps on singing along with his brothers and sisters 'Vode An!'

Sumi hoists up a shield so naturally, she may have exited the womb with it on arm. The moment arrives when the enemy charges those shields though, and like the others who remain at her side, Sumi locks hers in place and braces for the impact. When it follows, she laughs. <"HA! GOT EM RIGHT WHERE WE WANT THEM, NOW! HOOOOOOOLD!"> As in hold the line together. The noise of battle is all around Sumi, dominating much of her hearing; she can hear the pounding against the shield, and the screams of warriors on both sides. If she were to meet her end this day, she hoped it would be in this battle, surrounded by the glory she achieved with her spear.

That glory thrusts out, claiming the torso of one man who howls in pain at the connection of the poisoned tip weapon. Sumi withdraws by pulling back on the haft, only to shove forward again. This time, the motion is followed up with a sweep of the shield and a march forward one step. Sumi can't stop laughing. Something about the sounds of dying people being surprised by the fate just tickled her.

Zelo feels the need to brace for impact as the charge comes, even though his is not one of the bodies holding that phalanx strong against the enemy tide. Instead, he puts a boot up, rising taller as the one gloved finger with fingertip exposed prepares to depress the trigger. The view of charging berserkers, for now, is limited and the sniper makes a call to try to take out some of the guns firing from above. Ranged seeks to destroy range and claim the superiority. Black pool eyes track bolts from another Kora as Valeska drops one and turns the day of another for the worse. Two good shots and that would be one less cannon to fight...

The first shot finds one of the gunners looking to the first to fall, taking him in the neck and flinging him backward with a blast of red plasma with no respect for what little armor stood in its way. The second finds the one whose day had taken a turn at the hands of Valeska Kora, turning it from a bad day into a last one. <"Three gunners down, and one cannon out of the fight. Good shooting, Vod."> The Nautolan glances to Valeska for a second and a nod, but his will stays on the whine of his battery pack. The wait for circuits to recharge is always far too long. Already, he seeks the next targets in his visor.

Jallo's locked his shield in next to... He looks to his left and right to see but then the Berserkers are running in and it doesn't matter who's next to him all that matters is what's in front of him trusting that those to the left and right will hold the line he braces, his spear coming up to stab at any exposed part of the Berserker in front of him, blood coating the spear head as it's drawn back before he goes in for another stab with no impact and a low sigh.

Small arms fire erupts filling the space between forces, smaller gaps in the shields along the battle line giving way to additional staccato lines of red, green and then gold from Mandalorian weapons firing back and forth. Mixed with mounted weapons on tripod or scrap vehicle that strike armor, sand or pierce through bodies on either side. The passage of the shield wall is marked out in bodies fallen, shields sundered, but distance to the shield generator shrinks.

Several of the Mand'alor's forces fall, some wounded but more slain with glowing blaster holes or more ghastly, cracked and bleeding, injuries bringing them low in the wake of the initial charge. <"RAISE AND ADVANCE!"> a hefty 'FOONK' coming from the big man's place in the line, sending cannon shell shaped explosive surging into one of the emplacement nests - one of their number throwing themselves clear before the other two are vaporized and the turret begins bursting in points from heat and kinetic damage. Shields are raised in the wake of the orders and the line moves, into the teeth of the oncoming, into their fury to force them back precious meters while bodies tumble, the battle lines filling back out and the generators grow closer.

With shields locked there grows a tattoo like a marching snare from the ancient days of many worlds when wars were fought in massed lines with synchronized volleys. Sentients lining up to die, to win by attrition or by the retreat of their foes under the weight of fire. <<"SHIELD WALL! PUSH! EARN THE SPACE FOR OUR SAPPERS!">> one of the segments of the durasteel plates has become as a distant sun over horizon from the volume of blaster and slug fire. Glowing bright golden, rippling and moving like a heat shimmer over distant sands before giving way like thin clay before the pressure of a water hose and the warrior whom had been holding it is killed in a flash, holed and coated in molten slag already cooling as it sinks through armor plate, cloth, flesh and tissue. But the wall moves, forcing the savages back. Sending some to the ground, some to be trampled and others to be crushed.

For the living there is a raucous grumble of boots crushing sand and gravel when the line is closed and shields lock again to fill the gap briefly opened. Behind that new, shorter, line several bodies lay with molten armor, holed bodies and blood being guzzled down greedily by Mandalore's sands.

<"REMEMBER THE FALLEN! FIGHT FOR THE LIVING!"> Hadrix's voice roaring, on his externals now the volume he projects already grand from years experience made only more audible by the enhancements in the speakers, the wall of durasteel lifting and the hard march starts anew, a rush that squirts sand and smoke from beneath heavy boots in the quest to gain just a few more meters closed distance to the shields.

Fae Renta is stepping over bodies of the fallen with a quiet dispassionate expression that's fully concealed by her helmet. It might look to most that she's simply callous about stepping on them, though were one to stop and actually -watch- the Hapan's feet, they'd see how they never quite seem to rest upon a fallen Mandalorian. One of those savages, however? Heels against necks, cheeks, and jaws. She pushes off of them, too. The cannons rip through the phalanx in front of her and she watches as those putting up a barrier between those incoming savages and herself begin to take fire from those guns. Her blaster rifle is leveled towards the oncoming savages when one of those blaster bolts strikes Zevin in his chest. <"Daodhri!"> she yells. Fae swivels that rifle around in the direction it came from and squeezes the trigger. Dumb luck sees that bolt -crack- into the power supply and erupt that gun into a pillar of flame, scorching the operator and nearby crew.

She keeps firing as they advance, laying down as much fire towards those cannons as she can.

<"They never saw you coming, vod,"> Valeska replies to Zelo, the unseen grin more than heard in the answer. <"Good thing I always wear a helmet."> Never, never piss off a sniper. Valeska doesn't mingle in this new train of thought long as the waves of enemies below crash into the wall o' shields. That doesn't look too out-of-hand for the Mand'alor's army.

Those guns, though? Oh, those guns. <"That's a problem, yeah?"> Not a question, just an odd quirk of speech. Very much a somber statement. <"Time to commandeer."> Valeska jumps forward and up, triggering her jetpack to scream over the wall o' comrades and the warring faction to make a b-line for the gun she and Zelo had unmanned in the most conventional of ways. Mandalorian tradition, that.

A bend of her knees and she lands next to it, spartan-kicking the last corpse from its seat and taking her place. <"Okay. Seen enough of these by now. Just a big, big gun on a swivel. Shouldn't be too difficult, yeah?"> Confidence is oozing.

Impact! Maybe it was the slight difference of her build or the random cast of fate, but the first bolts blast against Narsai's armor through the shielf, staggering her a little but leaving her upright.

As her blaster pistol moves to shoot the next beserker in the face however the resounding -boom- of a cannon blast jerks her form, bringing with it a cry of pain and sending her shots wide.

She'd been shot by a -cannon-, even through Beskar that one clearly hurt.

Onward pushes the phalanx, Zevin in his spot next to Hadrix, near Narsai and Hahtavi. The shield-wall is pushing against the tide of flesh, and slowly but surely, it's winning, as the half-Echani steps carefully forward, between bodies or atop them, the blows of the savages finding no entry in the wall.

Then the cannons sweep across his position. The soldier to his left is obliterated, and Zevin's raised shield absorbs most of the blast, but that gap through which he struck down the enemy permits the fire to come right into his chest armor, scorching a hole through his now-ruined breastplate, adding to the smell of burned flesh. <"Hnnngahh-"> He tries to keep his footing as he's slid backwards, but he slips down to his knees.

Then he pushes himself back up to his feet, and step by painful step fills the gap he left in the wall. His comrades need him. <<"'m okay,">> he reassures over comms. It's an exaggeration, not a lie. He smashes his baton and shield together one more time before syncing up with those to either side and sweeping the legs out from beneath one berserker and shocking another into unconsciousness.

When the explosion of a cannon goes off right before his area of the shield wall, Hahtvi FEELS the concussion! It's not close enough to actually hit him or those along side him but it buffets them hard. Sand and other things explodes up before them, some of it molten as the plasma burst blasts it up into the air!

Helmet turned, teeth gritted, Haht tries to keep his shield locked against his comrade's. Then he's hearing his Al'verde commanding them to lift and push forward once more!

Not his usual kind of battle, this is a true battlefield. Vode are dying all along their line, armor even with beskar melted in some cases when the heavy cannons burn through. The noise, the concussions, it's a lot to force oneself to keep pushing against. This Kora is mindful that he, or those he cares about, may very well die here today.

Finally closing the distance a bit more with every push, Haht lets go his Galaar to hang on the tactical sling. A gauntleted hand reaches back to his satchel and he pulls forth a grenade from it. <<"FRAG OUT!">> He can see Valeska jetpacking up to one of the unmanned cannons so Hahtavi aims for one of the other active gun crews!

The frag is thrown ... it sails through the air and /almost/ reaches the gun emplacement but falls slightly short. The explosion throws a concussion wave of sande and rock back up at them - but to little effect.

Sumi hoists her shield up and thrusts her spear forward, catching the top of one warrior's shoulder. To prove her mettle, when she draws it back, the angled poisoned head of the weapon catches his neck, dragging him to the ground in a fit just as the shields land on top of him and the line steps over. <"OYA! BLEED FOR GLORY!"> Sumi yells, stupid motivated that her spear found blood and was still thirsty for more.

She shoves forward with the rest of the line, hearing the pained cries of warriors struggling to hold their shields and composure because of the weight. <"HOOOOOOOLD YOUR SHIELDS.. UP! THE ONLY WAY IS FORWARD, AND THE ONLY WAY THEY WIN IS IF WE GIVE UP! HOLD GODS DAMNIT! HOOOOLD!">

One cannon empty, but not for long as the other Kora blasts off with her rocket pack. Zelo isn't about to tempt fate by trying to follow. Not after his many disagreements with rockets - Nautolan are meant to fly in ships, or swim. From the ground, the targets of those remaining gunners are still plainly visible and with their fearsome fire taking out Mandalorians... <<"I'll cover you, but the sooner you can use that cannon against the others, the better.">>

Shots are fired, but this time, whether it's the increased pressure of the violence battering at the shield wall, or simply an error in angle, twin shots go wide of their targets, doing nothing to decrease the threat to those still on the ground. If those tides are going to turn, it will be at more skilled and steadier hands this day. The Nautolan curses quietly within his helmet, looking for any signs of the wall beginning to buckle. Maybe he can still help some way.

Jallo's pushing along with the shieldwall humming with the singing as he lets his senses flow along the wall seeing it for what it is a glorious form for him to STAB THINGS... Which he goes back to doing the spear darting back out at the berserker in front of him coming back with a fresh coat of blood and once again the berserker isn't standing still for the follow up the spear finding a nice patch of air.

More begin lining up with those behind the phalanx, satchels of ion munitions being prepared, heavy weapons being crewed by pairs and even a number with concussion launchers square up, nodding to their fellows as they begin to dig in. A wall of multicolored bolts turning sand to glowing glass and superheating shields being held by the wall. Another of the assault force falling in a blaze when their shield melts and armor cannot hold back the close range blaster shots or the axe made from shield hull that cleaves through collar bones and past ribs. Zevin's injury gaining attention from a backliner who helps brace him with a hand on his shoulder blade, her voice rustling over vocalizer,

<"Motir'dral, vod."> Stand strong, brother. Another on the other side slapping him on the back encouragingly before bracing a rifle over his shoulder and shield to take shots into the mass of savages ahead.

Hadrix's launcher cycles with a loud CLUNK and again it is braced in the weapon port and he sights through his HUD, teeth bared and his eyes boring through his visor into the gaze of the savages ahead. <<"Danger clo-.">> head jerking towards Fae's call to Zevin and then Narsai's exclamation to his side. <"Sons of whores..."> a distinct calm in his voice, not his normal peace on the field, malevolence and rage suddenly boiling up to the surface. A glowing concussion shell burrowing into the mass of enemies at the fore before detonating and making a gap in the defensive push, opening more of the way for the phalanx to press their advantage.

<<"SHIELD WALL. PU-!">> the call out by the Boar-Wolf of Ealor cut off, blaster bolts bouncing off his shoulder and mostly his shields before a heavy lance of fire from the turrets burns a hole in his shield and super heats the cuirass of his armor, only his shield keeping him standing and that only barely. An explosion rips across the furthest of the back line, the spiral contrail of the rocket stitching out the path of it and the hurling bodies flung from the explosive mass. More erupts ahead, heavy fire raining down.

<<"Anyone with explosives... make for the generator.">> It's in sight now, clear and visible with the enemy a living wall.

Fae turns to look ahead at the generator that is their target and lowers her weapon to press onwards and towards it. The resistance that she encounters along her path is oppressive, however, and no amount of maneuvering or sprinting sees her able to make it towards her destination. Fashion disaster that they are, she finds herself keenly wishing that she'd thought to strap one of those jetpacks to her back ahead of this particular mission.

Alas.

Instead, she attempts to sprint through and jump over her to her targets, and is summarily stopped, and shoved back into place with an indignant squeak that sounds less than ferocious even through her vocoder.

<"Well farkle you too!">

<"Affirmative, Overwatch."> She's just too damn used to calling Zelo that to think of changing it now. <"How complicated can one of these things be, yeah?">

The gunner's seat is surprisingly comfortable if a bit sticky. Valeska tells herself that's just the still-warm blood from the fresh corpse she just unceremoniously yeeted from this spot. Anything else would just simply be icky. Propping her foot up on the nearest anything, Valeska gets a grip on the turret's handles -- then immediately loses it again.

A shot of pain rips through her right arm; the impact nearly throwing her in the same direction as the abandoned corpse if it weren't for Valeska's undying defiance. Today, she is defying the laws of physic by flailing for a handhold while cursing in four languages like a malfunctioning protocol droid.

A savage <"Haarrrrrrgh!"> rips through the coms, mixing with the shouts, battlecries, and grunts of pain from her comrades. Her foot slams on the platform she's sitting on and swings the gun around, aiming directly at the generator and opens hell upon it.

When Fae's effort to make it over and past the horde to reach the generator is foiled by the sheer mass of (let's just come out and say it) rude savages, Zevin can see her out in front. As the shield wall continues its advance he is a bit savage himself, swinging the baton up from below the shield into the side of one wounded warrior who is more unsteady than he is himself, bringing him down into the dust and muck and blood. With a roar, he presents the next with a more traditional 'stab' through the weapon gap and goes down.

Zevin retracts the leaves on either side of the shield. <"Thanks for blowin' the turret,"> he says quietly to Fae as he brings her through the gap before reactivating the leaves and reforming the unbroken wall.

'Quietly' is relative. On a battlefield like this, he's actually shouting, but it's not the shoutiest shout meant for giving commands.

Injured as she was, Narsai felt the impacts around her from the heavy cannons as she ducks and shifts her shield to cover herself...only to see Hadrix and Hahtavi move to intercept the two bolts headed her way before she can recover.

The difference in height and the bulk of the shield may well mean that Hahtavi took the hit far worse than he should have, but Narsai just gives a little noise of anger behind her helmet, teeth clenched as her blaster is holstered and the beskar-forged hilt springs into her hand, adding a beacon of harmonic humming light to the shield wall.

They'd defended her, now she had to try and return the favour!

Beside him, Zevin is hit. Hahtavi doesn't even know what by, only that his vod staggered and almost fell. Before he grabs up his rifle, the Kora ramikad puts out his free hand to grab Zev and steady him. <"Ni ganar gar Hukaat'kama, vod."> In all the pounding they are taking, Hahtavi forgets to speak in Basic. There's another vod who comes up from behind to help Zev too.

Something hits his shield -HARD- and it staggers Haht out of line in the shield wall, making a gap. That's when he sees Narsai's been hit and struggling. And Hadrix burned as well! <<"Ori'vod!">> Ah, but Hadrix is still somehow on his feet and giving orders to bring up explosives...

A cannon fires a bolt of plasma dead on for Narsai! In that instant, Hahtavi throws himself into the path of it, trying to use his shield to save her further injury!

LIGHT errupts in the face of his helmet's visor - HEAT cleaves him like nothing he's ever felt before. Whether or not his shield deflected the beam - some of it has struck his buy'ce, melting one side of his visor and helmet into molten slag. Hahtavi falls face down into the sand and his shield is knocked from his arm.

He doesn't even know what hit him.

......

There is a terrible smell. Is that silence or roaring? He can't see drek and he can't seem to move. Is this ... death?

Where there's a sudden hole in the defense, Sumi shifts down to prevent it from being a strategic debacle. This does not require a tactician to see, any line soldier knows a failed shield wall is a dead line. Pushing herself ahead of the group, Sumi impales the first berserker she sees, killing them and twisting in a circle, putting herself in front of Hahtavi now.

As she spins, the rustle of her cape follows in the wake of her spear that spins, too, slamming into a sprinting berserker and close-lining them to the ground. <"MOVE UP! CLOSE THIS GODS DAMN HOLE!"> Sumi yells out, holding her ground as a fearless officer in the charge to inspire more enthusiasm to fight.

She plants her shield in front of her and resolves herself to take: not one step back.

Overwatch? More like Underwatch, but one must adapt. At least the Nautolan's keen eyes are still working, black pools absorbing the information from the tactical visor and turning it into the only thing the sniper needs right now: targets. Zelo continues to target the gunners, E-11 firing deadly plasma that strikes true, launching two more crew back and away from their cannon, even as more Mandalorians on both sides of the combat fall.

Jallo stays with the wall as they push forward digging in to hold the barrier so that the sappers can do their job stabbing forward with his spear as he works on that stubborn berserker in front of him his spear darting out every opportunity that presents itself and then there was none when it comes to the berserkers... A breath. A flick of his spear to clear the blood off a little then back to the fight as he digs in to hold the position for as long as the sappers need it to be held.

Heads turn to the sight of one of the turrets now firing on the shield generator, voices calling out in Mando'a, blades and blasters pointing to Valeska. Smoke is thick, expended tibanna, slug propellent, vaporized blood and tissue superheated by blaster fire. Rolling, swirling, mixes of milky gray, charcoal and pink a morass that blocks vision in places, isolating in a roar of screams and weapons discharge.

In the midst of the line, letting his rifle hang from its sling - a bonded duo-sphere is hurled over-arm by Hadrix, <<"Hahtavi, vod. Not time yet.">> voice pained, breath raspy, <<"PUSH!">> a bark that is pure animal fury though his own strength is failing him with his flesh burned, muscles cooked in places and the metal reinforcing his ribs sizzling anything in contact.

A tone like a stick being dragged along trash canes and metal fencing comes in a wave down the shield line when a repeating slug rifle rakes from one side to another - one of the back line Mandalorians able to, just barely, reach the fallen's shield in time to maintain where it needs to rest. Making with Sumi's shouted commands to fill the gap and close the wall as the shields force their way to practical spitting distance of the shield generator.

A glowing sphere of ion envelopes one of the turrets, silencing it before it can start another round of terror. But the remaining pair swivel yet, focusing on the one stolen by Valeska, to stop her from further damaging the equipment now coming into view, <<"FIRE! FIRE! TAKE IT DOWN!">>

Fae Renta doesn't like a lot of people. If you've met the Hapan, you know that she can be... aloof at best, and abrasive at worst. But Fae Renta likes Valeska. She turns to watch both of the remaining turrets rotate and target here Mandalorian sister in the turret with horror. They rip through that stationary gun and Fae nearly drops her A280 in the sand. <"Valeksa!"> she yells out, but it's likely lost to the screams and the sound of repeating blaster fire. She has no idea if the woman lives or not, but she does know one thing.

They came here to do a job.

She pushes Hadrix up when he feels a bit of extra weight, providing that precious bit of extra strength that one needs from a spotter when their muscles have -just- given out. Just enough of a push to get out of that pit. Just enough to push back. <"I'm going to blow that generator. Cover me."> She says.

Sumi is given a push as well just as Fae bursts from the phalanx and sprints her way towards that generator. Blaster fire sings over head, but she's closing the distance quickly now. Valeska's turret fire has blown apart the outer frame of it enough for her to pull a few electrical wires down and strip them bare. Red to red. Black to black. Charges set and stuck and readied. Fae pushes off of that wall and turns back towards the phalanx, holding a little wireless detonator in her left hand as she sliiiiides down a dune.

--KROOOOOOOOM--

That detonator blows sky high, erupting in a billowing rush of flame and smoke.

<<"Generator destroyed.">>

Hell unleashed. Hell stampedes. Valeska holds tight to the grips of her turret, burning through the ion bursts until the barrel starts to glow. The mission is to take out the generators and with her kin on the ground taking on heavy, heavy fire, there is no hesitation in the red Mandalorian. Even as her newly-earned seat draws the jealous attention of the other gunners. Clearly they are envious of her throne.

Or maybe they're pissed because she is trying to shred through their generator.

Probably the latter.

Definitely the latter.

Warnings are going off. Her HUD is flashing on either side that enemy movement is focusing fire. It's only a second or two, really. The armour is good but it isn't clairvoyant. And even if it was, Valeska remains right where she is. Pelting the generator until both enemy cannons open fire on her.

'Fire! Fire! Take it down!'

It almost doesn't hurt. More heat and pressure than anything else, really. Bright flashes of light, a rush of adrenaline, then the calm of blackness.

The turret stops firing, its barrel still smoking as Valeska slumps to the side then falls limp onto the platform; joining the other three corpses to rest.

First the other man was helping support Zevin, then, abruptly - he was gone, and bright afterimage of the blaster cannon fire fills his vision. <"Hahtavi?"> He glances down and back, spotting the man splayed unmoving, his helmet a ruin. He takes a deep breath, looking up at the cannons. So few are still operable, yet they're too strong for even these heavy shields to hold back.

As Sumi gets in front of him to buy time for reforming the shield wall, he loosens the strap on his tower shield and sets it down, leaning against and over the man's body. Then he takes a pained step, then another, and ignites his jetpack, sailing up and through the air to land at one of the still-functional turrets that still has a crew.

He twists and drives his baton into one's face, the electricity and kinetic impact sending him slipping down from the gun's perch. With enough room to properly whirl the weapon for the first time this fight, he lets it swing around and catch the second gunner on the /back/ of his head, knocking him unconscious. He plants a foot on the body and tries to backswing on the third gunner, but he stumbles on the still-flailing gunner.

No more cannon blasts today. Not if we can help it. <"Ye've lost,"> Zevin tells the third gunner, because he can see what the other man cannot: Fae escaping the generator. He laughs, holding up a hand to shield his eyes as the gunner turns to look at the generator's titanic explosion. <<"Damn fine work, Fae.">> But there are still gunners to kill, if they won't surrender.

With blasts behind her, blood on the air and both Hadrix and Hahtavi having put themselves in harm to keep her story from ending then and there, Narsai closes her eyes, her grip on her weapon tightening as she reaches out...or maybe reaches in, or maybe a little of both. Eyes still closed, the woman moves her shield as a trio of cannon fire bombards their position, sensing a crack in the shield wall and wanting to tear it down.

The bolts scream towards the durasteel barrier...and then splash against it, heat and energy seemingly rendered harmless against material they had pummeled through moments ago...maybe even stopping short before impact.

Impressive, but not without cost, even as she opened her eyes Narsai could feel the strain. Still, she lifted her weapon, a wordless battle-cry coming from her lips as she surged forwards, the plasma of her weapon cutting two gunners down in retribution for the wounds they'd inflicted.

Zev has laid his shield down in a position to try and protect Hahtavi's prone form where he lays in the sand. Their line has advanced as they must, leaving him behind and likely presumed dead. A very reasonable assumption.

After a few moments, a glove moves in the sand. There's preassure, something leaning against him. The arm pushes the shield aside and slowly this Kora gets himself back up to his feet.

Hahtavi sways on his feet but he's standing. Disoriented. The left side and about half of the front of his helmet is a ruin. The T-visor is half blackened and cracked, the durasteel of his buy'ce is melted and smoking with dissapating heat. There is the smell of burned flesh.

Staggering, Haht moves a few steps. His right leg isn't working right for some reason, dragging in the sand. His right hand and arm are difficult, lethargic and heavy. But his rifle is on it's tactical rig and he's left handed.

Step - drag - step - drag through the sand. A shape looms up suddenly before him out of the fog of battle and the Kora tries to shoot the Savage. Haht isn't aware if he hit the reaver or if it got away from him. He's not sure where his people are - somewhere up head of him?

Sound - roaring? Can only see out of his right eye. Breathing harshly, Hahtavi keeps moving forward but he's left his shield somewhere in the sand behind him...

With the hole in the shield wall closed, Sumi is given a moment of clarity to survey her surroundings. It's interrupted briefly when Fae brushes by her to deal with the generators, and the Mandalorians do a wonderful job covering for her. Sumi's observation yields the fall of Valeska, and recalling their oath to one another as Clan Kora, Sumi ignites her jetpack to see those words fulfilled.

Had Valeska any notion of her surroundings, the heavy jingled landing of Alor'Kora heralded her arrival as she fought off a warrior intent to drag Val from her resting place. The initial thrust of the spear missed, but when Sumi drew it back, it came back with blood.

Val was hoisted up then, cast over her shoulders and settled there with ease by Sumi, who stood with a wide gait testing her weight and shifting the body for balance. Val's leg and arm are clamped by one of Sumi's arms in a soldier's carry, while the other holds her bloody spear ahead in preparation to fight before liftoff again.

<"Do not bleed on my armor, Valeska Kora. That plating is only to be soiled by the blood of our enemies. Suck it up.">

Zelo continues to send plasma fire over the shoulders of those Mandalorians holding the shield wall, turning attention to the attacking infantry as a quick scan shows no remaining cannons manned and in operation. That fierce E-11 sends a pair of plasma bolts across the shield line, the first finding target as it cracks through helm and skull beneath before shattering the helm on the other side. The followup shot unfortunately ricochets off that piece of flying helmet, sent off course and wide of its intended target.

Jallo's going to hold this line if it's the last thing he does. Shield braced as his decorative visor stares towards the Savage Infantry across from him. As he waits the moment the enemy steps into an appropriate attack range the spear darts out adding a new layer of enemy blood on the spear head before he tries again to the same and consistent patch of air that seems to be catching his layered attacks.

Cover is given as requested, the T27 grabbed and rested in the weapon port, eyes on Valeksa where she lays, on Fae's position. Sumi is moving, others are close - another eight shaped detonator is grabbed from his belt, activated by thumping it against the dome of his helmet and then hurled with a bestial grunt. <<"Cover retrieval...">> that same calm, and if not for comms within their helmets his voice might be too soft for the liquid growling there that becomes a heavy panting when fire and debris spew from the holes Valeska cut into the generator, that Fae took advantage off. Durasteel plating channeling the explosion instead of deflecting it.

The shimmer of the field goes down, sound seems to diminish but it is only because the waves can disburse and aren't rebounded back into the battle ground. That momentary, relative, lull suddenly split by horns blaring. Bitr of Bazza atop one of the tanks claimed from the Remembrancers blowing into one with Mir at her side, a blade in hand and pointed forward. The rest of Saiwali, with Alor'Zatti on the prow of one of their remaining sail skiffs matching it.

The Savages, being gunned, mashed and sliced apart are forced to look when buggies, repulsor tanks and foot soldiers of the Mand'alor's army surge forward. Warriors of Kyr'yc Yaim, the Last Home - the plateau surging among the throng as heavy weapons open up on either side of the line.

<<"Sumi'Alor, Nar'ika. Fae and Valeska have opened the way!">> his voice is still a roar, snarling and hate filled with the crunch of metal and bone under the edge of his shield being missed due to helmet comms. <<"The shields are down!">> The turn is immediate and the savages begin to break. Those with jets take to the sky and others try to simply run if they don't fight to their last moment. Some even surrender, acknowledging that today is a good day for someone else to die.

<<"Reckoning to ground operations, we saw the shields go down. We're firing for effect in other zones. Clearing the path for the gate. Be advised. Reckoning out.">>

Even before the communication finishes the skies bleed emerald rain from the turbolasers of the Harrower in orbit, moving close enough to begin flattening anti-orbital and anti-air weapons identified by ground teams previously. A hail of unmitigated death that spares where the shield generator has been destroyed. Flammagenitus clouds, mushroom clouds by their scientific title, rise after each cataclysmic strike that falls, the skies turning viridian, the mountain itself being hued and the sands of Mandalore around King Mountain turning to obsidian with hollows in the shapes of bones from the sheet heat vaporizing bodies.

Hell comes to Mandalore and the shield wall advance is its herald.

Sumi lands back on friendly lines, passing Val off to waiting Mandalorians ready to move her, with other wounded, back to the FOB. Sumi turns back and angles her visor up toward the Reckoning as the clouds begin to light up and rain down explosive bombardments. Fire for effect meant closely organized indirect fire, so the random impacts along their firing vector start to hit, drowning out most sound and replacing it with kinetic, concussive blasts and ringing ears. If it weren't so tough to stand up to the blast, Sumi would've lit a smoke, but that didn't stop her from watching with a drek-eating grin beneath that helmet.

Everything's popping off. Those generators are exploding in after shock after after shock, and Fae is pulling her helmet off of her head in wanton dismissal of the very real danger still around her. There's a hiss of decompression that pushes sand off of her shoulders, and dark brown hair spills out from beneath it. She's applied makeup for this fight -- a rich, crimson lipstick that paints her full lips and makes them pop against olive hued skin. She sets that helmet down beside her and presses a button on her thigh. Another hiss scatters more sand, and pushes a bent cigarra up that she retrieves with her gauntlet covered hand.

She tucks it between her lips. Her own smoke this time. Not one she stole from someone else, but one she feels, really, like she's earned.

She watches the remaining forces get cut down and lifts her wrist towards the tip of that smoke. A small jet of flame erupts and burns away the top eighth of the cigarra, but excess and indulgence has always been this Hapan's way. At least the rekking thing's lit.

She inhales and exhales, looking over her shoulder to the dune she's pressed against for cover fire while she inhales again.

And she sees, again, that same yellow and blue that she'd seen before. The color of the sand set against the sky.

"Kark this. I need a bath."

No response from Valeska as she is soldier-carried by Sumi from the smoldering cannon and into the sky. No response to the beautiful show of the Reckoning opening up the heavens and raining havoc below. She also, it should be noted, does not bleed on Sumi's armour. Every wound is cauterized and perhaps it is natural sheer will that has her obeying her Alor's command.

Everything on her is wrecked. The armour will need extensive repairs; only the beskar remaining relatively unscathed. Remarkable stuff that may be the singular reason she even maintains the faintest of heartbeats.

That right leg, though. What's left of it, anyways....

Hahtavi keeps firing at the few Savages he encounters, hitting some, missing others. He wanders a bit like a man lost, half aware at best of what is going on around him. But he's on his feet and alive. Anyone who coms or speaks to him though doesn't get a clear response except, <<"I'm OK. Is the generator down?">> Speach a little slurred.

Until the Reckoning opens up and the sky begins to turn green. Rifle lowered, Haht just stands there and watches the light show with his one good eye. No idea what's happened to him, to Valeska, in the battle.

Somebody can help him get back to the base before he wanders off in some random direction... Going to need a new helmet though, and other things.

The shield falls and moments after it? Narsai's own follows. The burned and dented durasteel drops from her arm as she deactivates her weapon, but the wall of protection willed into being falls with it and the woman gives a little exhaled groan of effort. Still she'd straighten, watching the light and sounds of Manda'alor's forces surge through the hole punched in the Savage Clan's defenses before reaching up to remove her own helmet.

Her arm comes up, a light -thump- of her fist against Hahtavi's shoulder in unspoken thanks before she moves forwards, inhaling a breath to straighten her stance and roll her injured arm before she looks to the others.

"You know...this might be one of the best horizons of Mandalore I've seen in my life."