Log:Resistance & First Order: Dark Side Rising

Resistance & First Order: Dark Side Rising

OOC Date: April 19, 2016
Location: Sullust
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, HM-8668, Hex, FL-5114. DZ-1141, Sesti Gath, RK-8801, Jax Greystorm, PR-3742, Oriana, Nym Landala, FZ-4792, EM-1710, Kylo Ren, Gerratt DeLong, and General Hux as GM

The short story: The Resistance rescues one of their own, but at a terrible cost.

The long story:

Dawn has begun to creep onto the volcanic planet of Sullust. Coarse black terrain rises into craggy mountains about the village that serves as tonights theater of war. Still dark for the most part, the light of the rising sun has just begun to tint the sky above in an odd orange glow that creates a craggy silhouette of the mountain range that rises to the north. The air smells of sulfur and deep fissures can be found easily enough by a misplaced step. Any given moment, boiling hot steam has been known to erupt from the split and jagged ground, spitting an angry hiss far above that is hot enough to boil an unwitting Stormtrooper or Resistance Officer in their armor. Far to the south, a river of lava flows slowly, molten and smoking, belching occasionally with a spray of the fiery stuff.

The village itself is a hollow shell. Soot covers all of the buildings in a thick inky powder, the windows of which are grimy enough that visibility out of them is almost nonexistent. Other than the odd patrol, one consisting of stark white armor in so much blackness, the village itself seems to sleep in light of the coming dawn.

And one more breadcrumb has been found, in this sinister trail the Resistance has been curiously following. Except 'curiosity' has likely turned to simple fury, for some. Like the Major.

Following the mission briefing, the woman hasn't said much for the duration of flight. She never does. But this sort of quiet is different. She sits slouched, turning one of her messier weapons over in her hands between knees. Idly admiring its lines without really seeing. Her eyes, and thoughts, have turned elsewhere.

And then their transport blasts the ground with its repulsors. "Just like we discussed," she mutters into the com, sheathing the little knife before tapping her helmet. "I'll go first. Verrni, you bring up the rear with that rifle of yours and take point if my ass goes down. Be ready to hurl some booms at my command, and try not to get vaporized by any 'rain'. Or a belch from the core. We get inside the first building, clear it, press on from there. Additional intel is desired, so round of booze on me if you kids manage to finagle some smarts from any data terminals we spy - beyond what Sgt's helmet cam records. Be quick and quiet about your engagements, if you can. No tickle fights." Ah, there's a small touch of life returning to the glitter in her eyes. A greater weight disconnects from her hips and gets comfortable in her right hand as the ramp lowers. Her thumb strokes the triggering mechanism. "Let's move." And out they go.

Ambrosia leads the procession, keeping low and aggressively slinking towards the town until the 'first' building on their side of the perimeter comes into sight.

HM-8668 led Dorn squad to clear the village after the shuttle crash. In Hammer's simple way. Patrols have been set up. Hammer is in the village, going over reports at a terminal. periodically, he makes contacts the perimeter teams. He is wearing his armor against the conditions but not helmeted except for comlink calls.

Hex is checking his gear one last time - lekku wrapped in synth-leather straps to give them a small modicum of protection, threading them through the helmet he settles down onto his head. "No tickle fights," he confirms. "Got it, we're here to punch hard." He draws a breath as the ramp lowers, ready to follow Amber into action, and quietly comments (maybe to himself), "Here we go."

The Stormtrooper designated FL-5114 was spending the Sullustian morning painting. Off-duty and having nothing else better to do, FL-5114 has set up an easel and is using oil-based paints to render the dawn rising over the jagged, black hellscape. The painting is oddly serene, with a small, dancing figure flitting across the crags in the distance. She wears a white dress, and has hair roughly the same shade and length of AL-0114's was, when she was out of armor. There is a small centipede crawling on his shoulder pauldron as the Stormtrooper dabs some vermillion into the mix, sketching out the horizon line with his paintbrush.

Trooper FL-5114 has his helmet off for the process, and his raven-dark hair flows down over his shoulders to the waist of his white armor. The acrid winds cause the shimmering sheet of midnight to rustle and blow, and his brilliantly green eyes look a bit sad as he adds a few of the clouds being illuminated by the rising sun. His helmet sits at his heels, facing southwest, away from him, like a poet's skull perched upon a small outcropping of igneous rock. About his neck is tied a long scarf of gossamer green, and his rifle sits before his helmet, not unlike a grave marker.

While not, strictly speaking, on duty at this exact moment, DZ-1141 is doing what she does when she's not actively on duty. With a data slate in one hand and a handful of soil and rock samples to analyze, DZ-1141 is going through the surveys and indulging in logic puzzles against the computer. How best to blow things up, that ought to be a trade mark patent pending game.

The Medic is further back in the procession, perhaps for once she'll only be used for her medical abilities. Ha. With her heavier armor today, and blade strapped to her back, Sesti's medpac is secured at her hip and blaster in hand, for now. The grays of her armor blend in better with the blackened buildings in the early morning.

Rika is not on duty, per se. Still, she is awake early, had some rations and is emerging, in her full kit. Her rifle is at the ready, slung across her chest on its sling. One hand on the foreend, the other on the pistol grip, finger outside the trigger as she stalks out of the darkened doorway. Her hemet turns as she scans the scene, alertly. Her baton rest ominously at her side. She moves with cat ease and silence despite her armour..

Jax was silent as he rode the shuttle in. The pilot always hated when others flew him around and into ground combat just made it worse. He was wearing a scout armor and pulls up his hood and down the googles as they step of the shuttle. As he falls in place with dagger team, he wields a spear and moves with the team. He hadn't trained with them but he had learned at the feet of their commanding officers and he almost blends in perfectly with the rest.

PR-3742 was always "on" duty. As such, he is currently spending his time on security detail, following DZ-1141 around while she collected her samples of the volcanic planet. The Master Sgt's armor was polished as ever, though even that cleanliness had been unable to keep the soot from marring the gleaming white surface. He wears his incinerator and carries the torch in hand, glancing left and right in the near darkness for any sign of the pirate scum they had cleared out prior to taking the village.

Silent during the ride, Oriana had been keeping herself busy with a book. An actual paper book. Decked out in her normal gear - that being her armour, rifle, bandolier of grenades and vibrosword, and having checked those so many times it's futile to do so again. So she read, it's a way to keep her mind at ease to help her recharge for whatever is to come.

As the ship lands it's closed, a metal engraved bookmark put in place to mark her spot. Sliding it under her seat Amber is regarded with a stiff nod. "Aye, Major." She responds, firmly and simply.

Stepping back to let the others disembark from the shuttle one last look is given to the rifle in her hands. Tapping the camera, calling in a check on that, and as everything comes back good she'd turn to follow the others, rifle up and at a ready.

Downtime wasn't always something that EM-1710 did well. Unlike the other troopers, the blonde still wore her helmet. Perched on one of those blacked-out rooftop 'Em' is doing her best to remain unseen for someone in white armor, something she's generally fairly good at. After the last time her patrol had walked into an ambush that had ended poorly the woman has her rifle cradled and ready, just in case. Ever the guardian angel of her squad.

As the Resistance Troops creep, some of them only "creeping", steadily closer to the village, they are drawing steadily closer to a large building. They are almost there when the sound of voices begin to float through the near darkness toward them. Lights are on within the building, though the soot covered windows make it near impossible to see within. Judging from the steady muffled rumble, however, it would be fairly easy to peg this building as some form of mess hall or communal meeting area. Meanwhile, those Stormtroopers on patrol are blissfully unaware of the creeping Resistance fighters, all save for one... a hidden eagle eye that spots three.

Glancing over her shoulder, Ambrosia performs a quick headcount of her team as they make their final approach. "All bodies here..." Her gaze turns forward again, peering around a hunk of debris off the building's corner - looks like it used to be a decent ride, before the folks in white blew it to shit. It still makes a decent hide. "...and we have bodies on the move up ahead," she breathes, having spied a couple blips of white milling around upon approach. "Looks like small patrol at best, but who's to say?" She flattens against the outside wall and whispers another command into her com "Eyes in the sky, we've reached point 'alpha'. Get ready to join the party, standby." And she edges along the wall in search of an 'in'.

HM-8668 has troops on patrol and trusts them to do their jobs. He is in one of the smaller buildings that was converted into a sort of field office next to the TOC. He is finishing up the latest contact, casualty and maintenance reports. A quick spellcheck and he then sends it off to the Lieutenant. That done, he wipes the sweat from his face and has a sip of water. Checking the chrono, he says, to himself. "Five minutes until the next com check. Do not hover, Hammer."

Hex is sorta creeping? He's creeping less poorly than some of his comrades are creeping, we'll put it that way. But this is really not your top-shelf creeping right here. A misstep here that sends a rock tumbling, a kinda sorta almost running into the sweet ride debris. No comments from the typically loquacious Twi'lek as he follows Ambrosia though, and he is eyeing the building they approach with wariness, as though looking for locks, chains, mind-breaking scents, smoldering remains of locals, hurt feelings, nightmares...

The trooper in the flowing green scarf regards the painting and the horizon as he mixes together some vermillion, some white, and some yellow into three small splats of color on his palette. The gossamer scarf billows lazily in the volcanic winds, and his hair struggles in vain to follow. Frowning a bit in thought, trooper FL-5114 finally starts to paint in a lava lake in the distance, along with its slow-flowing river. The rocks that form the shore are gently lit in orange and dark yellow, with the lake rivaling the dawn for dominance as it frames the dancing figure in the middle distance.

Details are slowly added to long-dead AL-0114's tiny, dancing figure with the finest of his brushes, including a blue silk sash about her narrow waist. His brushes, scraper, thinner, and paints are arrayed on a black slab of mafic rock, next to him, jutting out of the ground about knee-high. Frowning at the painting, Stormtrooper FL-5114's shoulders slump a bit. His green eyes go to the ground, and his palette and brush both droop a bit. Appearing to be taking a few minutes to mourn whoever the lady in the picture is, the Stormtrooper just sighs, apparently having lost the will to paint further.

Just when it seems that he is going to give up, however, the trooper with the flowing black hair lifts his head, his brush, and his palette. Adding some lighting and shading to the rocky outcroppings in the distance, some lit by both the lake of lava and the rising sun, FL-5114 is still frowning, but his eyes are set on the canvas.

With Pyre along as both security and an extra pair of eyes to keep a look out for any of those sulfur skylights or boiling steam eruptions, DZ-1141 as is checking soil samples for natrually naturally chemical compounds that would make the geological conditions more (or, conversely, less) flammable to be conducting operations within. Or, specifically, conditions that would either greatly augment or seriously screw over any of the prep work that she's done thus far regarding certain security perimeter protocols. Explosive perimeter pins, for example, are all well and good. Except for when they're planted in certain mineral deposits that amplify the explosive reaction to unforeseen or potentially uncalculated for blast radius. She's mentioned this, once or twice, to PR-3742 while checking soil samples and eyeballing the survey that she may or may not have had actual permission to be accessing.

Underneath the helmet there's a wince a Hex skitters some stones ahead of her. However, as her gaze sweeps the area, it seems that no one is around to spot his little stumbles. She lets out a breath, taking inventory of her muscles and untensing the ones that are in danger of being too tight. She spares a glance over her shoulder for Jax and Oriana, then comes up behind Major Greystorm, likewise keeping flat against the wall and waiting for a signal from the Major on how to proceed.

Rika stalks from the improvised barracks. They have the area secured, but in military terms that is temporary at best. This is very much a forward base and one should never drop ones guard in such a place. She moves along one wall, not crouching, but keeping her flank covered. Her helmet is still on a swivel as she sweeps the area with tawny eyes. The muzzle of her blaster tracks along with. She reaches the far corner and pauses, listening and watching. She watches the patrols, those she can see, then sweeps the foreground and on out to the horizon.

Jax was making his way through the cavernous terrain towards the point where he was directed to move. He didn't realized he was backlite in time to be seen against a light source as he drops down behind a boulder. As the orders for Red 2 to start her strafing run comes in. He mumbles under his breath, "May the Force be with you Nym." He looks to Mayor Greystorm as he looks to see what the next order is. He has no clue he was sighted.

PR-3742 is looking about, but it /is/ still kind of dark and the Resistance Troops don't wear solid white armor while they are sneaking about. The big man continues to walk, shifting from one large foot to another, large boot imprinting in the soot covered ground with every step. He listens to DZ-1141's scientific spiel, but it is all a little too brainy for him. He knows a few things, the smell of burning Felucian elderly, women, and children a few of those things, the screams that they make as their flesh is seared from their bones another... all of this science stuff is just not one of the large man's fortes and while he may nod in reply to the Lieutenant's words, he doesn't have much to input as his hands squeeze the grips in position along the business end of his incinerator.

Oriana might as well come in clanging pots and pants together. Or hell, have some hunchback clopping together two coconut halves behind her as she walks. She fails, bombs (not literally) terribly, trying to hide with the grace of an elephant trying too scurry behind a leaf. It's not a good start and lets hope, as she does, that this quest doesn't finish in similar failure.

Heading up the rear eyes scour the building, the surroundings, even if she isn't as light of step as normal, doesn't mean she can't be on guard, and even more so given the noise she makes. A hand comes out, she taps Jax on the shoulder, nods for him to follow her as she moves around to the other side of the building. But there is a pause, a faint one when he comments about the force. Whispering into her comm a call up is made. "Sgt Verrni to Lieutenant Landala, bring in some cover." A click stops the message to the pilot, then she opens the channel with a message to the Major. "Hauling Lieutenant Greystorm with me to scout the other side of this building and look for an entrance." She manages to move quieter now, settling her mind and gathering more focus. As she moves, pressed against the wall, least her steps are quiet a door is happened across. "Major, found a door." She whispers into the comm.

Sometimes it pays to be the guardian angel...especially one with a sniper rifle. EM-1710's eyes narrow as she spots movement. More then one, and she keys her commlink. "All units I have contact approaching our position, multiple individuals..." she rests her finger on the trigger as she takes a breath and her scope reveals to her not one, but two familiar faces of resistance fighters. One of them had even taken a shot at her last meeting. Settling her crosshairs on one target she smirks beneath her mask. "It's the Resistance..."

With that, she fires.

As the Resistance creep closer to the building and Oriana creeps along the side of the building, she finds a door not too far ahead of her. Roughly ten feet away and with no obvious lock upon the door. The rest of the Resistance have no trouble hearing over the coms as Oriana reports her findings and almost all of them are able to make it over under cover of the building.... almost. A beam of light suddenly erupts through the dim light, a blazing pupil contracting beam that sears across the open air and strikes Hex directly in the chest, a tad high and to the right of his heart. It isn't a fatal blow, but it is a rough one.

If that beam of light splitting the air was not enough for the First Order troops patrolling the night, Emma's voice announcing the presence of the Resistance surely should be.

"Go," the syllable stirs dust from the exterior wall as Ambrosia glances to Sesti beside her and hears Ori's report. She points back in the direction of the pair's creep. She nods "Ori, why don't you take a peek and toss-" Except then the shot rings out, striking the Twi'lek. "SCRATCH THAT," she barks into her com, "just toss in a little dose of hell, Verrni. You kids with wings - Blast these fleas off our asses! We're going in." And she motions for Sesti to plow ahead to regroup with Oriana to storm the building. As for the Major? It's about to get messy out here, and she'd rather Hex not be blown into more pieces, much less by friendly fire. The Major makes a dash for him, hopping and weaving as she goes.

HM-8668 immediately stands upon hearing the shot. He slams his helmet on his head, "EM-1710, Hammer. Location of contact." Hammer speaks rapidly but clearly, "Dorn squad report in. Prepare to engage hostiles. " Picking up his Regular F-11D, he also switches to general frequency, "FN-2432, this is HM-8668. Hard contact. Resistance Troops have entered our perimeter. I am calling general stand to . Please notify Higher" Pausing long enough to lock his computer and shut it down, he calls for all personnel to stand to and move to battle positions.

Hex is unlucky. But then again his name is literally 'hex,' so how much a good luck charm is he for the Resistance, really? They should reconsider this. There he is creepin and peepin along with the rest of the group, when bright red blaster fire comes out of apparently nowhere and hits him in the torso, throwing his green alien ass back a couple paces. Armor helps, not being shot in the heart (and Emma's to blame, she gives love a bad name) helps, but that clearly did some damage and is accordingly painful. "Son -- of a schutta!" he hisses, surprised into a Basic/Ryl patois, gasping some as his lungs try to figure out what the hell just happened to their irresponsible owner. "Goddess spit, that-- hurts like a misha-- eat a tal'kan, you frotzki-- piss-dipped-- shhhhhit that hurts." He's already picking himself up off the ground when Amber comes looking for him, and he tries to wave at her, hustling her way within current physical hustling capability. "I'm fiiiiii...." wheeze "fine! I'm up! I'm fine!"

The Stormtrooper with the green scarf lifts his head as the winds of Sullust cause it to bellow off to the side from his shoulder. With a sigh that makes the trooper slump a bit, FL-5114 moves to set down his pallet and brush. "Wait for me, darling... I shall return soon." Taking up his rifle instead, the raven-haired warrior turns away from the painting, rifle held ready across his chest. His helmet isn't on, so he doesn't really need to worry about his voice carrying, or being broadcast this time. As such, the green-eyed man safely says aloud to the ravaged world as he starts forward, the rifle heavy in his bare hands: "There, for grace, I go."

It starts as a slow, heavy walk, but swiftly rises to a trot, then a jog. FL-5114 is running not three yards from where he began, rifle brought to bear before him as his scarf and hair fly in the wind behind him. "For the Order!"

Switching from geological slash pyroclastic survey mode to business mode is, for DZ-1141, as easy as shifting gears and returning to target. EM-1710's warning via comlink is sufficient to pull DZ-1141's focus to the task at hand and has her scanning the surround to ascertain the whereabouts of the enemy combatants that are now in theatre. The sound of a rifle shot, and it's accompanying echo ricocheting around, as she stows the handheld scanner and tugs the pistol from her side instead while speaking via com, "DZ-1141 on the perimeter," followed by the exact coordinates of her location while continuing to scan for hostile targets and moving with PR-3742, the demo-trooper shadows the flame-trooper now in mirror of the earlier pattern where the flame trooper had accompanied the demo-trooper on the geological walkabout.

At the sudden blast ramming into Hex, Sesti turns. Her first instinct is to go to him herself, but Amber is ordering her to the door, and there's incoming friendly fire from the sky so she follows orders and sprints for the door indicated, keeping her head down and her pistol pointing at the ground as she goes.

At the flash and report of Emma's fire, Rika drops to a crouch. Then Hammer's com hits. The target was over by the Mess, not far from the Prisoner. Frell. "Hammer, Rika. I think they're by the Mess...moving in!" The statuesque trooper spins round the corner, moving at a fast crouch, Rifle up and covering her path, seeking targets.....

Oriana had gestured for Jax to move. He'd followed with her and was about to act when the plan goes sour. He moves up to the door his back against the wall next to the door. "Ready?" He says to Ori. As soon as she confirms, he flips spear around slams the butt of the spear into the door to press it open giving Ori a place to throw her grenades.

As that flash of light tears through the air, Pyre spins to follow the trajectory of that blast. His voice barks into his comms, "Affirmative, shot fired and it seems to have been by the Mess Hall. They are going after the prisoner!" He moves in double time, his long legs carrying him quickly across the uneven terrain in the direction of the mess hall, which appears to have a bloodbath in its near future. His hand grips the ignitor of his flame rifle, the torch blazing into life at the end as the big man moves to intercept. "PR-3742 and DZ-1141 moving to intercept. We are going to the front!"

Was that a shot?! Only hearing it there is a halt she makes sure that Jax isn't hurt, as he's the only one with her for now. Seeing as he is fine, the realization comes that it happened on the other side when Hex belts out over the com. Cursing under her breath she makes a dash for the door, a hand coming up to snap off a grenade from that bandolier. "Corporal, get your gun up and ready! We're going to charge in!" At the door a second after Jax knocks it in Oriana nods, swipes her thumb across the frag grenade and throws it in. "Take that!" She remarks with a snap, motioning for the other two to step out of the way in case there is any shrapnel that flies out.

Well, now she's hit one target and warned the troops. But not being inside the building means that from her perch targets of opportunity are limited. Scanning, prioritizing in her mind her instincts make judgements of weapons, actions and...command. Spotting Ambrosia running towards the injured Hex she's about to open fire. Right until Oriana starts lobbing grenades. That's a no-no. "All units, be advised. Opposition has explosives. Watch yourselves." She's not quite quick enough to try the trick of shooting the grenade out of Oriana's hand, so she fires on the woman herself.

One of those eyes in the sky would be one Nym Landala, keeping to the atmosphere and far enough away that she hopefully will not tip off the First Order that an X-Wing is ready and waiting for orders. "Red 2 standing by," she replies, voice easily heard as both eager and serious as she waits for her cue. Unaware of what is going on on the ground, the young pilot waits for the right moment. And then it arrives. As Amber orders the strike, the telltale sound of aircraft rumbles over head. "Copy that! Coming in! May the Force by with you, Major!" The blaster fire from one of the buildings catches the pilot's attention and she focuses her attack there.

FZ-4792, callsign 'Fuze', is at her forward operating base, no more than a bulldozed area of gravel where her TIE fighter is resting in its cradle together with a refuelling tanker and some basic accommodation. Sitting out there in the open around a folding table are Fuze; her gunner, a young woman with unruly curly blonde hair with the designation ED-1421, inevitably 'Edie'; and a ferret-faced mechanic with a narrow pointed nose; they're playing a three-person variant of sabacc, cards slapped down and tokens trading hands rapidly, with much laughter and mock-threats exchanged. Then, in the dispersal hut, a moon-faced fellow leans out the open window and yells, "Aurek One! Scramble! Scramble! Scramble!", before hitting a klaxon. In a moment Fuze and her gunner are up and running for their fighter. The mechanic stares ruefully at his perfect winning hand, interrupted by the klaxon in the act of laying it down - and then scoops up a handful of credits anyway before bolting to his duty station. Fuze and Edie are squirming into their cramped cockpit, mechanics leaning in through the access ports to hand them their helmets that are clipped into place with practised motions, the mechanics then connecting the life support hoses before pulling clear, slamming and locking that access ports closed with heavy thunks. 'Coffin lid', the port was referred to in the old Imperial TIEs, but these are the new TIE/sf space superiority fighters. Then the engines are spooling up, the mechanics running clear, and the TIE is lifting from its cradle, turning, accelerating. The voice of Control is busy in Fuze's ears: "Aurek One, Control here. Single unknown aerial contact approaching Dorn's FOB, bearing zero-five-zero, and Dorn are reporting hostile contacts on the ground. Looks like a single X-wing from the signature. Give them air cover." FZ-4792 grins wolfishly inside her helmet where nobody can see. "Time to target thirty seconds. I'll give them hell."

The Master of the Knights of Ren had been standing before a large computer terminal when the weapon is fired nearby. They were in a military base, where weapons firing was of no great concern to the man. But, the air of danger and tensions eventually bleed into Kylo's mind. A quick turn leads the man towards the sounds of battle, with his long robes flowing behind him with each angry step.

Having been sitting on whatever was in his cage for a bed, Gerratt has been silent for days. Hearing the commotion outside the jail building, the Master Seargent looks up quietly, an evil grin on his face as he begins to slowly, rhythmically stomp the ground while staring at the back of his guard's head.

As combat is entered, shots fired and thrown from either side, the growing sunrise that was once a tranquil sign of life, even on this desolate planet, is smacked down by the reminder that war soon stomps where life grows. Oriana's thrown grenade erupts with devastating force and there are quite a few strangled yells of surprise and pain as they are blown away before they ever even registered the grenade rolling along and into their midst. The First Order troops find their progress toward the Mess unimpeded, though that grenade exploding inside causes the glass windows to explode outward in a shower of shards and fire. As Emma's shot strikes out at Oriana with devastating accuracy, catching the woman in the side and just between her bottom most ribs, it leaves a garish wound. Unfortunately for the sniper, that blast is easily enough tracked to the building she hides upon, and while Nym can't attack see the Sniper herself, she is easily enough able to attack the building she hides atop. As the X-wing flies in and rains fire upon the building, stone and fire blasts all around the Sniper. The rooftop begins to crumble beneath Emma's feet as she runs for cover and just barely makes it to the adjoining building before the building collapses beneath her very toes. Nym won't be alone for long as Fuze hurtles into combat.

The one sentence that should ring out true for the First Order soldiers is simple enough. "They are going for the prisoner." It is common enough knowledge among the troops that the Resistance prisoner is held in the basement holding cell beneath the building recommissioned as a Mess Hall.

"Yeahyeahyeah, just light'em up, Landala!" Ambrosia skids to a halt before plowing over the hustling Hex and grips his upper arm with her left hand. A sharp pivot on the balls of her feet and she's reversing course, urging him along not so gently towards the soon-to-be cover of the building. "I'm getting too old for this shit," she can be heard to pant/grumble, but doesn't slow down yet. As the windows blast out, she throws her right arm up, head tucking to create the best armored defense she can without stopping. "Get in there!" She shouts to the teammates huddled around the door (as if they really needed prompting) "We're right behind you..."

HM-8668 calls over the squad next to Em-1710, "Time to.." Too late. The X-wing swoops in, firing up the building the sniper was perched on. "Emma, report in." Hammer seems relatively calm as he jogs towards the Mess Hall, distinctive black pauldron marking him as an NCO. With half his squad out on patrol, he will make do with those at the FOB. "Dorn Squad, if they are in the mess hall, try to keep them there. Dozer, Pyre, work to the back entrance. Use grenades and flamethrower to see if you can herd them to the front. Foil, join Rika. We will go in the front. Em, move to support us at the front. All troops, our only safety until the air cover arrives is to get too close for that X-wing to engage us. Grab them by the belt and do not let go." Hammer runs towards the entrance he indicated. "Do not let them recover the prisoner alive." No hatred in his voice. A simple, professional order from the Stormtrooper sergeant.

Hex is picked up by Amber and tossed into the building where Oriana's bomb tore through the mess - coms, alarms, shouting... people dying... He's picked up a reference to something in the fray though, and looks for a moment like he's been shot (again). "Prisoner," Hex echoes what he's heard, and turns to Amber. "Prisoner, they're referencing a prisoner, he's alive, he is HERE."

The green scarf blows in the rising winds as Trooper FL-5114 arrives on the scene. His green eyes match it as he levels his rifle at his shoulder. Striding into the bombed out mess hall heroically, however, FL-5114 quickly notes that everyone in here is dead, he's the only living target, and the Resistance haven't actually entered through the back door yet. "Well... Poodoo." Immediately backpedaling right back out the door again, FL-5114 whips around to plant his back against the wall next to the door frame, ready to warn anyone else who tries to go charging in.

Moving at pace with Pyre, blaster held ready at her side, angled down, DZ-1141's own boots kick up small impact clouds of dust through the dirt as she races toward the Hall where the prisoner is being contained. The com chattering from the other unit members calling out locations and instructions help form a coherent picture just as the sound of air support coming into play lends another layer to the over all hum of adrenaline that ramps up at times like these. "Roger that, HM-8668, heading for the back entrance," she angles in that direction, sorting rapidly through the gear that she's carrying as she picks up speed.

With a click the filtration system of her helmet begins filtering out the smoke from the frag grenade. "We will find him, Corporal," Sesti says definitively as she moves in along the wall, looking for a stairwell, and some way down. Her eyes find a sign through the cloud of dust, and she clips over the coms, "down is to the left. Intelligence mentioned holding cells under the mess hall, proceed down, Major?" As she asks, the zabrak is edging along the wall with her blaster ready.

All hell is breaking loose for Rika; first the shot, then the detonation in the Mess Hall. Where her Comrades are. The tall trooper snarls with feral intent behind the helmet, the sound lost in the din of battle. The the building nearby collapses as the Resistance fighter hits it. She shields her head with her free arm and MOVES..."Hammer, Rika, confirm, meet met at the Front Entrance Foil. Rika out!" She pounds to a halt, just to the left of the Door, motioning Foil to the far side. SHe starts a count, gingers rolling back into a fist, as she does. Four...three...two...one. Then she turns, just enough to clear the door and pitches the Cryo Grenade in a low, flat spinning arc.

As Ori gets shot, Jax hits a button to retract his spear down to collapsable size and moves to catch. "I got you sarge. We need to get some cover." He says waiting for a chance for the cryogrenade to go off before trying to get the wounded Sarge inside.

Nodding his head and barking, "Affirmative, Pyre and Dozer heading for the back door," Pyre charges along, running around the side of the building just as Oriana and Jax are slipping inside and Hex and Ambrosia are attempting to make it through the doorway. He pulls the trigger on his incinerator, a fan of angry flames roaring out at the Resistance troops' backs and the building, attempting to burn any and everything in his wake.

Oriana lets out a bunch of pained gibberish, partly in basic partly in her native tongue. The shot was good, too good. It cut up and deep into her side, into her innards under her ribs. That flesh is torn apart, and with that the blood pours. Between the pain and burning she's blinded as the grenade goes off, to find herself a second later being hauled off by Jax. Hearing Sesti, there is, through gritted teeth, a bit of an order. "Get. Gerrrat. Now." The only way to dispute this is if Amber declares not to, and she knows full well that could happen.

When in the building, a bloody hand - which leaves handprints, helps her stand against the wall. "Go, fucking go if you can!" She saw the door was on fire, there's no time now, the building is going to go. "I'll be cover dammit go!" Yes, she could get in trouble for this. Spotting Rika as she slumps against the wall, her helmet that was askew covered in blood as she adjusted it, eyes peering out from underneath her rifle comes up, she aims and fires at the grenade throwing trooper, snickering some.

They hadn't fired back at her, EM-1710 was frowning behind her helmet at that thought as she scopes in on Amber now as the wounded Oriana is pulled inside and out of her line of sight. She's scoping in, ready to fire once more when she looks up at a sound screaming through the sky. "Oh..." Time to run! Taking off at full speed, EM-1710 grips her rifle tightly as she flees her perch, already about half-way when the bolts finally impact. Leaping and weaving, the trooper manages to clear the roof and avoid the rain of shrapnel that could have impaled her if she hadn't been so lucky.

Even so her armor is scratched up as she activates her cloak and starts to reposition right as the door catches fire. Using the new building for cover she prepares to fire at the Resistance's backs, once more the invisible ambusher.

For the moment, the red striped X-Wing is alone in the sky, streaking past the building EM-1710 previously stood sniping. When it sprays debris and a puff of dust and smoke arise, she gives a grin. Looping upward, the small pilot angles back again for another pass, hoping to give the ground troops much needed cover and the Stormtroopers on the ground something else to worry about. Circling back, she aims to try and provide more cover.

"Edie, stay sharp. And if it's a red X-wing..." Fuze lets her voice tail off on the internal comms system. She doesn't need to tell Edie again - indeed, it's common knowledge in the other fighter squadrons that Fuze has ordered her squadron to avoid attacking a particular red X-wing, to leave that for her personally. Edie nods, her own fingers flexing on the yoke of the turret-mounted guns; the gunner is nervous, this is only her second combat mission, and it shows, whereas Fuze is in the zone, hands drifting lazily over her cockpit controls making minute adjustments to her heading. The twin ion engines scream their characteristic meowwwwww as the TIE approaches just fifty feet or so above the ground. "Edie, you see any hostiles on the ground, you're clear to engage." Edie nods, then knowing that Fuze can't hear her nod, mutters a "Wilco, skip." But then Fuze's eyes, under the bug-eyed helmet sensors, widen. "It..." She's scanning her sensors and then simply staring ahead. "It's....him!" The red X-wing. Fuze's TIE skims over the burning pyre that was Emma's nest, the wingtip vortices swirling the smoke, and engages!

From his vantage point, angrily walking towards the battle, Kylo can see RK-8801 drop to the ground. Out of sight of the Resistance fighters, an electronic snap-hiss can be heard as the wraith's Lightsaber comes to life with an angry growl. The red blade appears in sight first, before the Knight's path brings him through the front door. No scream or battle cry brought him to the fold, as he steps past the Stormtroopers HM-8668 and FL-5114, but silence. Quickly, the dark, gloved hand not wrapped around the blade of the lightsaber snaps forward quickly. Hex, unlucky enough to be the momentary prey, is sent flying towards Dozer and Pyre.

Still sitting in his cell, because where else is he going to go at the moment, Gerratt stands and moves to the cell door. Beating his fist slowly on the bars in the same, slow rythm as his foot, he continues to grin as he stares at the door.

As the Resistance Troops attempt to pile through the backdoor, Sesti manages to easily dodge Rika's thrown Cryo grenade. With First Order Storm Troopers charging for the front entrance to the Mess Hall, and Pyre and Dozer running toward the rear, the Resistance find themselves with wolves at the front door, and literal fire at the back. Ambrosia is caught in the napalm induced fire and the flames quickly lick across her body, her armor, and anything in reach. Oriana's shot blasts Rika directly in the chest, just left of her heart and blasts her from her feet, dropping her to her back to twitch and bleed. At the entry of Kylo Ren and that gloved push, Hex is thrown bodily from Ambrosia's flaming grasp only to fly back through that flaming door. The napalm induced flames that lick the building and doorway catch the flying Twi'lek as he is shot through the flames and quickly catch flesh and armor alike as the man is sent ass over tea kettle to tumble past Dozer and Pyre, a ball of fire.

The Resistance Troops that have gone down the stairwell are faced with a single guard, and then the roughly constructed Cell that holds a terribly beaten and battered Gerratt that still stands, stomping and beating along in that beat, his mouth bruised terribly and the dark crust of blood trailing along the corners of his mouth and down his chin.

The flames that lick along the doorway are quickly climbing the dry timbers that form the building. The volcanic planet not seeing much rainfall, the flames eat the dried out wood and soon climb to the roof which catches like a match to gasoline in short order.

"WHAT!?" Ambrosia turned her face towards Hex's in turn in response to his shout. It's a very intense moment, the depth of her stare - after the initial hearing issue/confusion calmed to a dull whine of irritated cochlear implant - the nearness of her nose to his, eye shield to eye shield. Her shoulders heaved as she caught her breath, hunkered here with him while awaiting the others' entry.

And then she got it. Emerald eyes widened. If she weren't married, mother of multiples, and old enough to be his mommy, too, Greystorm looks as though she just might lay one on him. Instead, she dips her chin aside to reply to Sesti's query about the time the grenade joins the party. She shrinks back from the doorway. "Yes, yes! Dagger Team, mission has changed, flight team keep hammering the ground. Possible friendly held in detention. Request for emergency extraction pending..." A glance around. "Corporal Gath, proceed into lower level. Jax, you go with her. Sgt Vrenni - yeah, you do just that! Corporal A-AH!"

And suddenly, there's Unfriendly fire. Real fire. Reeling away from the rushing inferno, the Major staggers inside and to the right, away from other bodies with a genuine look of "SONOFABITCH!!" Rushing from her lungs as she scrambles to disengage herself from the burning armor. The blazing helmet peels off first and gets hurled back through the wall of flames engulfing the doorway. It isn't the first time she smelled her own flesh blistering and searing beneath armored restraint but she isn't a fan of trips down memory lane. Just not the sentimental sort. And so it is that old 'Ice Queen' Aderanne is prepared to strip to her skivvies if she has to. Fortunately, she's a pro at disrobing. As luck has it, her back it turned towards the front doorway mid wriggle, while flinging her chest and back plate free. So it's a BIG surprise when Hex goes sailing along with. Expression equally as manic as moments prior, she snaps her head around to feast her eyes upon /him/. Namely the artifact he holds in hand.

Only one word comes to mind and rests upon her lips now ~~Jax~~. There is a surge of fear, yes. But it isn't mustered for herself.

Fire! Ahh! Hex has got no choice but to leap inside the building as Pyre tries to turn it into, eponymously, a pyre. There's no time to process what else might be afoot, however, as there, coming in through the front door... is Kylo Ren, with a lightsaber. "What the hell is that?" Hex gapes in disbelief, and then, suddenly... did you know Twi'leks can fly? Hex didn't, judging by the shocked "Aaaaaaaah!" that's emitted from him. It picks up a notch as he's re-introduced to the fire, sort of like, "AaaaaAAAAAHHhhaaaahhh!" Bam. Hi Dozer, hi Pyre. Hex, like Ambrosia, is burning, and stripping, because that's how we do it in the Res, we start taking off all our clothing when it gets hot. He's holding on to his sanity, but barely, and lacking other options, starts chucking flaming pieces of trooper gear at Pyre as he tries to get free of them. "I'M ON FIRE!" In case they didn't know. "PHYSICS ARE BROKEN AND I'M ON FIRE!"

The roar of flames that spill forth from the incinerator that Pyre carries is accompanied by that rush of heat and the dry cough of sound that signals building materials catching fire in a sudden burst, smoke spiraling upward in ever thickening plumes with sparks flying and raining in every direction. In an odd, destructive, way the flame is bizarrely beautiful, but perhaps that's just a special flavor of a mind set. While Pyre sets the building on fire, as is his particular talent, DZ-1141 is scanning the surrounding area, sweeping from side to side on the off chance that there's reinforcements waiting to pull of some fancy tactical maneuver that would result in their unit being pinned instead of being pitched against each other like some old fashioned war game. She tracks the sight of EM-1710 leaping from one building to another, the killing dance of the x-wing against the TIE that it's dueling against. Another downward sweep of a scan has her catching sight of the suddenly airborn form of one of the rebel thugs flying toward where she and Pyre are standing. With a hiss of a breath exhaled she rapidly pivots to the side and back pedals so that the flying form goes zipping right on by instead of bowling her over like a pin in a set of nine! That the rebel in question is chucking off his armor as soon as, or really potentially MID FLIGHT, he lands is rather disconcerting to the demolitions expert. She is bringing the blaster pistol up to open fire on the flaming rebel and the shot itself is foiled by the flaming bit of gear that is chucked randomly in her direction, the shot veering off to impact the dirt where it does absolutely nothing useful at all. Other than perhaps as a warning shot across the bow. So to speak.

The smoke is coming in thick, now, and obscuring the vision. Since she's not going to be able to see far enough ahead to take proper aim, Sesti holsters her blaster pistol as she descends the stairs and draws with both hands, blade and knife as she steals down the hallway. The helmet filters out the smoke, and her gray makes her almost one with the smoke itself, the guard barely having a chance to register her presence before she cuts him down and then follows his body down, finding the key to the prison cell. "Master Sergeant," she greets, pushing the door open. She bends down to pick up the guard's rifle and hands it to Gerratt. "Time to climb out the nearest window."

Jax's head whips around, "Mom!" Then he steels himself as orders are give and pulls his blaster pistol and starts to make his way down the steps following Sesti. Jax's head whipping around as he feels a disturbance and his eyes go wide. "We need to run and we all need to run now." He says as he makes it down the steps behind Sesti. He see the sees the Guard dead and looks around, "We need to find a way out."

A loud and slightly maniacal laughter cuts across the comms as Pyre continues to fire on the doorway, spreading the flames along the wall and roof until Hex comes flying back out of the door toward him and that laughter is cut short. He ducks aside as the Twi'lek tumbles past and then turns to watch him. As the man leaps up and begins screaming and stripping, throwing his burning clothes at him, Pyre manages to duck and dodge those flaming items and then grunts, "Bitch!" Turning the nozzle of his incinerator around toward the Twi'lek, the large Flame Trooper stalks forward and pulls the trigger, the blue and orange flames leaping out to add to the flames that still manage to caress Hex's flesh and what little clothing remains.

The roof is on fire now, time is running out. "Hurry the hell up!" Oriana blasts into the comm. Hearing more chaos there is a pivot, she pushes off the wall with a stumble, knees buckle a bit. The screams of Hex and Amber have gathered her attention. Having claimed defence here, that's what she'll do. With a passing glance she spots a black figure, and his sword. Sure, there is some surprise to see it but she is aware of what it is, and it all clicks as to what they were flown and what happened.

Another step - but she slips, the blood had poured down and made the ground slick, regaining her balance, feeling the heat from above the sweat begins to pour down her face. Taking the brief window she sees, she goes to fire out a shot from her rifle at the black figure that is Kylo Ren while on the move, aiming too get away from the fire too.

Finally in position again, EM is peering through the burning door at the resistance backs when Hex comes flying through, a sure sign that the 'Boss' had turned up. Taking a breath and taking in the sights, EM assesses the damage to her people and sees the stalled resistance and her fallen squadmate. Taking aim once more she zeroes in on the one yelling orders now, Amber had avoided her shots until now, but the sniper was back to sow more chaos from the shadows.

The hum of the lightsaber carries around Kylo Ren as his angry, pounding steps carry him after the victim of his throw. On his way, a wide, easily-dodgable swing towards the other Resistance murderers warns them to stay away while his anger focuses on the poor, prone victim of his rage. As his steps carry him, the rimed voice, ebbing with pure flowing anger, is heard in the room. "Bury that prison. Why-ever they came for him, bury him here, now, Finalizer. OPEN FIRE!"

There were Resistance Rebels in his base. He was going to stop whatever stupid insurrection this was here and now. He would leave it to the other Stormtroopers to call the 'Danger close'. He couldn't be bothered with anything beyond Hex. Even as Pyre begins to turn the poor man into a roast pig, Kylo launches slightly forward, nudging Pyre out of the way as Kylo's lightsaber comes overhead to strike downward at the dying Twi'lek. Anger flowed over Kylo like a cloak, and again his hand snaps forward towards the body of the man, now missing part of his body, to send him flying away again. No words came from Kylo, but it didn't take the Force to feel the pure anger and wrath pouring from him. A quick turn, and he picks a new target. A new Resistance fighter to crush beneath his jackboot.

Mayhem reigns in the small and suddenly very much not so abandoned village on the Volcanic of Sullust, which given the inferno into which the Resistance Troops are moving seems quite fitting. Sesti has no trouble in downing the solitary guard and discovering the key to arm Gerratt, though given his wounds, he is at least going to be severely handicapped in combat. Flames now cover the entire building, eating into the walls, and as Kylo lunges past Pyre to knock him aside, poor flaming Hex has no chance. That ruby colored lightsaber slashes through the air and severs body parts before the flaming body is cast far through the air to thump and skid across the hard stone terrain very far away. Kylo's words are immediately met with a reply through the comms, "Affirmative. Finalizer airstrike incoming. Troops recommended to leave the immediate area.

"Sgt Vrenni! Get the hell down-*cough*-stairs!" the haggard looking rebel hoarsely commands, sans comm device. The groaning of timbers above and around has jerked her startled funk well enough. Wisps of smoke are still trailing off her skin in patches, where she hadn't removed the armor fast enough. It stinks - molten wool. Hurts, too! She hastily stumbles in that direction herself, but only after snatching her blade back off the floor. "Insufferable little shi--" The meanly cast glower in the dark figure's direction gets cut short by two things - first, this rock. Used to be part of the roof, actually. But cast into shadow under the smoke and laser-streaked haze of things, the sneaky devil catches her toe - freshly made bare by the purposeful losing of a boot. Secondly, something else is sneaking through the dim and it catches her square in the back. Sears a hole straight through, actually, emerging from the center of her chest. Kort's gonna be sore about the damage done, there...

But she might not. The look of shock is as instantaneous as it is fleeting, fading more gracefully from her features than her fall through the air and down a few steps. The decades of hate, the bitterness, and even the love...it's all frozen into an oddly serene blend now as she stares lifelessly (and upsidedown) at her son and daughter-in-law...and DeLong. It's a shame she's too faraway in the realm between here and 'there' to notice.

HM-8668 hears the words from Kylo Ren. The battle all around, chaos. He had been pinned down and then higher command wanted a situation report. At last Hammer arrives. Fire. good. down troopers. Bad. "Keep them pinned inside. they can surrender or burn. Their choice. .."Kylo 's Command come. "Danger close! Danger close! All troops fall back. Extricate the wounded..." Hammer rushes forward, grabs Rika and drags her outsode. Once outside the immediate line of fire, he hefts Rika ovwr.his.shilder and runs for cover. "Move your asses! This is going to be a long report..."

What do they tell the FO kids about aliens? Do they say they're crazy and savage? Hex is doing his level best to support this theory, being a couple inches over 6 feet of weedy green fury, getting greener as he continues to lose fiery clothing. "They died screaming!" Fling! There go some gloves and bracers. "They died burning!" Pauldrons. "They died scratching their fingers to black black bones trying to get out, out of the smoke, out of the fire!" Fling! Fling! Gear everywhere. And now he's got no shirt. He's got great abs and poor mental health. "They can't get out, I can't get out, they are burning, Burning BURNING!" And there's Pyre with MORE fire! "Kika'lekki!" Hex cries for the aid of some quaint deity who never answers him, and then continues plumbing the depths of unknowable things as he despairs, "Why am I still wearing pants?!"

If you had to guess someone's last words, what would you guess? Something noble - something profound - a message of love? Fate is more inelegant than that. Hex is going down wondering why he's still wearing pants. It's kind of fitting, not gonna lie. He's got no chance here, not against the fire, not against the lightsaber, not against the dark side. His screaming takes on a newly fevered pitch as Kylo's lightsaber leaves him to part company with his right arm at the elbow and left leg at the knee, and there's blood all over, he's just done. Hex closes his eyes. "This is why we fight," he whispers. "This is why we fight." Then the force picks him up again, flings him, and he's gone before he hits the ground far, far away. But maybe he got some better last words there after all.

"Structural integrity of the building is compromised, recommend - -" DZ-1141 is beginning over the group channel via com when the next wave of mayhem erupts over the current here and now. "Danger Close!" she barks into the group channel, taking several healthy large steps backward as Pyre gets nudged out of the way and hustles to snag ahold of Pyre's shoulder to help haul him upright even as she's saying again. "Evacuate the prison site now, ship to surface ordinance strike package has been ordered. MOVE IT PEOPLE," while doing precisely that, hauling ass. Who better than her to actually calculate the minimum safe distance needed to avoid getting caught in the blast radius that's about to be the remains of the building once the smoking smoldering create is created by the finalizer. "Must go faster, must go faster!"

As she helps Gerratt get an arm over Jax's shoulder, Sesti turns her head back to the guard she fell, and bends down. "Did you hear?" she asks Jax, then Amber is falling down the steps towards them. She turns both men back towards the cell, switching her coms back on. "Get in! NOW! Get down! Hex, Oriana, can you hear me? Get down here, now. Help me carry the Major! NOW! Get down in the basement!" Then she's sprinting up the stairs, the smoke obscuring her view of the Major's wound as she checks first for Oriana and Hex.

Seeing Oriana, she grabs a hold of the woman's arm, shouting in her face as she pulls her towards the stairs. "We have to move, NOW! Help me with the Major!" She gives another hard tug to snap the woman's attention to the task at hand. That task is back down the stairs, gathering up the Major and into the cell that she just took Gerratt out of.

Hex's right arm and left boot hang out alone near Pyre, cheerily burning. Free rifle guys! Free shoe!

At the words grabbing the Major, Jax sits Gerratt down leaning him against the wall. "I got a bad feeling about this, Man."

Pyre snarls back into the panic induced screams directed his way from Hex, or is it madness induced? In either case, the large Flame Trooper laughs coldly as his cold eyes widen beneath that polished white helmet, suddenly the switch flipping and Pyre understanding that Hex is speaking of the villagers burned alive on Felucia! "I know how they died, you fucking idiot. I stood there and heard their pathetic screams. I heard them pounding at the door. I heard the children screaming for their parents to save them. And I burned them just the same! I was the one that burned them. Just like I am GOING TO BURN YOU!" He is stalking closer to the screeching Twi'lek, his own madness ramping up alongside that of Hex and is almost to the flaming man when Kylo is there, pushing the huge man aside as if he is so much nothing. He releases the trigger of his incinerator immediately as soon as he is brushed aside, his gaze turned back to catch sight of that descending lightsaber and who wields it, and that rage induced madness is quickly snuffed out, and Pyre finds himself going along with Dozer's pull willingly. Soon his long legs are pumping as he runs across the ash covered ground, pacing Dozer as she calculates away mid run.

This is a series of very, very bad events. To what, save one of their own? Hell, she'd do it again, and again, and again. There is a fire in her eyes; it flares with a passion equal to the redness that flows from her wound. Now Oriana is pissed, to her -core-. The First Order came, took her planet, slayed her family, her loved ones in front of her eyes in all forms of horror one can imagine. Before her now, history repeats itself. It's like reliving the nightmare she ran from, she -drank- away. Amber is down, eyes are dead, lifeless. This Princesses soul dies a little. But then Hex, not Hex. Her -brother-. The one person, who stood by her, through even inch of hell of her being, bites it. Her soul tears in two. Against the rage of fire and smoke that burns around her she bellows out one word filled with the pain of all those innocent lives this evil order had taken and filled with the angered depths of hell. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" It's hard to tell if its tears running down her face or sweat, though to be honest it's tears that would make up more of it now. Sesti's voice barely registers against the crackling of fire that's crippling the building she is in.

Caring not for the smoke, nor the fire the assault upon the black robed man is all her mind can go to. He must and will pay, THEY WILL ALL PAY. Lurching forward, stumbling with her own wounds there is little care, she can fall here to avenge them, and would in a heartbeat if Sesti's hand didn't snap her out of her raged hell of revenge. Snarling some she barely turns, fury in her eyes. "THEY ARE DEAD!" The bellowing rages like the fire around them, and it's just enough to give some release of pain the weakness her body has had to bring her down, it's been pure emotion that drove her but it's wavering with weakness from the heat and wound. Knees buckle, the realization that she cannot do more cripples her being, returns her to that state of helplessness. They are gone. It's all she can do now, to pull herself away to the basement, to a safe place. And with a trail of blood she is pulled away, swearing on her family name, on all those lives that were lost, that they will be avenged.

DZ-1141 and PR-3742 take to their feet, but Kylo Ren stays where he is, watching the village. They were scurrying away like rats before the light, away from Kylo and their due justice. At least, they may have thought that was the case. Slightly hunched, with his left hand coiled into a fist level with his belt, Kylo awaits the coming storm. His right hand holds the growling lightsaber, hungry for more, and so unsatisfied. If the pair of Stormtroopers were to look backwards at the figure, his dark frame would be eclipsed by the rising fire of the building. This was his purpose: justice served.

If there was any fear for the coming danger, it didn't exist in Kylo Ren. Above their heads, green bursts of light slowly approach from the Finalizer's position overhead. The massive Star Destroyer was the pride of the First Order Naval fleet, and it's cannons didn't hesitate when called to action. Slipping through the atmosphere, there's a moment in Kylo's head of peace. The wind picks up, casting the cloak of his robes about his dark frame, before the first cannon blasts slam into the small village facility. A rumble of the earth groans beneath their feet as they move, and dirt and dust cry upwards to the sky before the subsequent blasts strike home. They were focused on the prison, determined to tear every piece of brick and concrete from those walls, and the walls of those nearby. Twenty seconds of this go on, with Kylo watching as, he hoped, these Resistance troops were buried on Sullust.

Ambrosia lays there, sprawled without dignity till she's hauled away. If not for the charred, meaty hole having scorched its way through her spine and lung, one might mistake her for simply losing at another drunken game of poker. Good thing Rendar's not around! One thing to note though, peeking through the tatters of her undershirt and fusing to her breast tissue, is something shiny. It wasn't before, but the roaring heat of the blaster bolt singed off the millennia of encrusting minerals. It's a ring. Or was. Etched oh so long ago with now-misshapen symbols.