Log:Sith Empire: Taking Control

An Imperial led operation to conquer the city of Bellam, Onderon.

OOC Date: January 18, 2025
Location: Bellam, Onderon
Participants: Tamsin Cas, Bors Thul, Tytos Wrex, Qar-duun, Alys Zapal, Merulia, Lynoriel Thrace, Cin'cirad Rook, Aryn Cortess

A siege takes place at Bellam's main gate. Mandalorian forces led by the Despot Talion Kast have invested a great deal of energy and manpower to batter the gates and make as much noise as possible. Thinking themselves trapped, Bellam nobility and their people secretly load up skiffs to push out to sea in an effort to escape, but as they begin loading the vessels, a storm approaches off the coast and waters become tumultuous.

Before the dark clouds set in, larger objects from above cast their shadow upon the city, and Bellam has come to realize the error of their rebellion. The Imperial expeditionary fleet looms high up in orbit, the distinct shapes of each vessel indicative of power; the kind of power they cannot hope to escape.

Before the first evacuation skiffs can get off, the heralds of the Sith Empire arrive, their fighters 'screaming' overhead as they weave in and out of the storm clouds. Low-flying shuttles carrying a select group of special operations spearhead the crux of the operation. Each team has been briefed that in order to take Bellam, the advanced party must successfully make it ashore, eliminate the defense force and disable the city's defense shield generator. Doing so allows the bulk of the main party to arrive, with an entire division of Sith Troopers prepared to deploy and pursue the rebels into a bloody fight that was doomed to progress street-to-street, house-to-house.

One of the shuttles contains the Sith and Troopers of the advanced party (where everyone in this scene is currently). Open hatches on each side of the shuttle make it easy to touch down and troops to disembark, with a central station above providing something to hold onto as the ship flies. Rain pelts the sides of the craft, and TIE/sf scream by firing green lances. Overhead, orbital strikes and long-range skiff artillery screech and rain down upon the stalwart shields of Bellam. While not effective enough to bring it down, it alerts the denizens of what approaches.

The pilot of this shuttle calls out, <"Thirty seconds!.. Prepare to disembark!"> The craft shakes from explosive blasts resulting from the incoming anti-air defenses. Even a TIE near their shuttle is picked apart and made to explode, its slag and shrapnel peppering the side of the shuttle.

Qar-duun watches the water as the shuttle approaches shore. He remarks to Alys, offhand: "Part of me desires to dive: to make the sea so terrifying a place to exist that they are all-the-less effective on land, scattered and cornered. But to battle only fish, *pfagh.* A waste of talent."

Achlys stood not far from the door, a hand resting on a support, their mark turned towards the debarkation point. There was no word of encouragement offered, nor instructions for those who had been selected for the insertion theme. They were not the one leading this engagement. They were simply there to see that the job was done. It was the calm before the storm, and only the occasional shift of that mask as the battle raged outside gave any indication that they were aware of the danger in which the shuttle was flying.

On the shuttle, Alys is in her usual spot. In the corner, hood up and utterly silent. The Dark Side flows through her, feeding her feelings into the crucible that is the core of her power. She's flush with it as the approach begins, the hatches opening, the roar of the wind and the impending storm filling the near silent cabin. She rises, moving towards one of the hatches, the wind blowing her hood back, showing that her eyes are still closed.

When the pilot calls thirty seconds, her eyes open, and she plucks the hilt dangling from her waist, clutching the simple black tube in one hand.

This isn't the first time that ES-5309 has gone into a warzone. Hopefully it won't be the last. When the shuttle begins to rock with the dangers of incoming fire, he makes certain that the seals on his helmet are secure and that his rifle's at the ready. He stares straight ahead like every good trooper should and awaits the surge forward that will come when the boarding ramp drops and the fighting begins for him.

Even one of Darth Wiccus' goblins has surfaced from the mines for this. Thrace is armored up and has a bag with gods only knows what with her. It's probably explosives for when they reach land. Not like she brought her garden with her last minute. The tall figure keeps track of how long they have until they've got to disembark and her gauntled hand rests lightly on the hilt of her stunsaber for when they do make landing. For now, she is quietly standing and waiting for things to commence.

TK-C1C4 stood in the cabin, one hand holding the strap overhead while the other pinned the rifle to her chest. Holding it close as it was attached in the harness, the black eyes staring forward toward the door as she doesn't move except for the sway and jolt of the craft. Her knees slightly bent to take the impact. Of course as the thirty second mark was called she began to tense up, doing her best to stay loose, but combat never was just 'another day'. Always a question... She turns her head slightly, taking in those around her, trying to get a 'read' on the room as it were. Looking to ES-5309 for a moment, taking a measure of him, before looking away once more.

<<"Fighter elements, Black Knight. Check in and watch for target priority assignments. Ensure the landing party makes it to ground...">>

Adjusting the throttle knob on his control yoke, the TIE whisper shrieking at low altitude over the field. It was his element, at last. No trudging around on the ground. With the dirt. There's dirt there. It's slow there. His joints complained more there.

Bors was where he preferred to be, perhaps not precisely in the service he dreamed, but in the service that kept his world safe.

Or at least safer.

<<"Your Majesty.">> Swapping to comms with ground elements, the Black Knight of Alderaan let the pressure of raw speed press him into his command seat, relaxing really, <<"Nova flight is available. Awaiting fire orders on your command.">>

The landing vessel comes in for a touch down upon the beach. One shuttle has already disembarked ahead of them, and the vessel is being shot to death by nearby automated sentries. Laser turret emplacements have disabled the shields, and the control cabin containing the pilots is reduced to fire. Troopers aboard have made it off the ship but are pinned down behind a levee.

Our Shuttle has just touched down adjacent, and the sentries are unable to deviate from one target to engage another, yet. That is no blessing for the pilots who are screaming for all to get off the ship and into the sand.

The terrain ahead places them at a defensive levee wall. With the tide low, the troopers and Sith may use it for cover, but if they stay behind it too long, they will not be able to advance beyond the turrets.

Soldiers of Bellam have also taken to the peer to the LEFT of Our unit. With elevation, they can fire down on the squad. The pier is roughly 15ft tall, made of stone, and has space beneath it that leads to another side of the beach-front. To the RIGHT of Our unit is the pinned down vessel and trooper platoon.

Darth Kalus is among the troops in the advanced party wearing ebon armor plating. Her cape is oriented over one shoulder, and her blonde hair tied back so she can see without having to devote a hand to sweeping the blonde away from her view. <<"Copy Nova Leader.">> She answers back. She activates her lightsaber and moves for cover.

The platoon on the Right call to Nova. <<"Nova leader, this is Shrapnel Platoon. Marking target one; Danger Close. Say again, danger close. We are pinned down by turrets, over.">>

Qar-duun leaves his stunsaber on his belt, drawing the obscenely heavy and ponderous ovoid Wookiees use to make points. He fires with practiced ease, muscles flexing in recoil, as he covers the Sith advance and scatters the doomed defenders with each bowcaster-round.

The shuttle lands, and Alys exits, igniting her lightsaber as her boots hit the ground. The wind flaps her robe, and the beacon of burning crimson in her fist.She's a blatant, open target, striding through a danger zone.

Until she does something seemingly odd.

She slips into the shadow of one of the landed shuttles and simply does not come out. If anyone were to look, she's simply not there. Vanished.

She does this a lot.

There is a clear path ahead as the few ahead of him begin to move. ES-5309 begins to tromp forward and his blaster rifle rises up to his shoulder as he advances. The scrutiny paid to him by a superior officer in the form of TK-C1C4 doesn't seem to register, as he's focused on the mission. He charges into open air that is illuminated from split second to split second by lances of blaster and laser energy, causing that brief flashes of light to glow across the rounded surfaces of his red colored trooper armor. As bodies begin to spill from the pier in their path, ES-5309 pauses over one of the fallen and disoriented Bellam rebels to level his rifle and deliver a blast at the prone figure. It's cold, it's remorseless, and it's part of the job.

There was a time for the drawing of a weapon, and a time when the greatest weapon was the blade that existed in their mind. As Achlys exited the landing craft, a scan from left to right allowed them to take the lay of the lay of the land. Two targets, and one, at the moment, of greater danger to themselves. A step back, to ensure that they did not impede the movements of the rest of the team, as that faceless mask turned towards the pier to their left. A moment, not of silence, but perhaps of stillness, before the support structures of the pier exploded, as though thermite had been imbedded in the stone long ago. Stone and mortar flew in a wave of powder and shrapnel, as the ten soldiers who had been arrayed their tumbled down into the destruction, leaving them at the mercy of the incoming force.

It's time to engage! And that means that most are going to come out swinging. But not Thrace. The armored figure takes two long strides and then jumps like some sort of witch. She lands roughly though and rolls for a moment. Gathering her composure again she looks like she meant to do that!

Totally. With the distance covered, she gets to deploying demolitions while others do their thing.

And the ramp is down. She sees the other trooper, ES-5309 charge out toward as well. Her head nodding, seeing him engage a different target. <<"Good shooting ES-5309. Pin them down. NO MERCY!">> She's running still, holding the blaster rifle in close to her chest for the first few moments before she tucks the butt of it into her shoulder. Having seen that entire pier simply -IMPLODE- was a thing of beauty. A testament to those who use the force.

TK-C1C4 closes on one of the Troopers trying to get back up, her foot catching him hard in the chest and pinning him. His head twisting at just the right moment as she squeezes the first shot. Her foot coming down hard onto his chest to make him wheeze and delay him as the second one hit him square in the face before her head is up and moving to look for other targets nearby.

Silks of red, pale face painted with the black lipstick and markings of her clan...Nightsister Merulia, known among the sith as Darth Arcana was a very different sight from Meru the healer. As the nightsider strode forward towards the Bellum rebels while other's charged she drew out her lightsaber, the weapon blazing to life as she brought it to bear. A lightsaber was a weapon of the sith, not a Nightsister Sorceress or 'Witch', but the Sephi handled it with the ease of an artist with a brush as she cut through three of the rebels with swift, precise slashes, not so much the slightest slow of her step made.

<<"Copy, Shrapnel.">>

Bringing his controls over to spin his fighter into a hard helical turn of a barrel roll that terminates early to bring the fighter into a dive that the rest of Nova element twist to follow after.

<<"Two is my wing. Nova break into wings and begin strafing operations, saturate turret vicinity. Ground elements are danger close, be advised">> lord Bors's orders being responded to with a series of acknowledgements as the dozen fighters break into six pairs.

Sculpters carve. Writers attempt prose.

Bors is an artist. Commands sent to his squadron even as he maneuvers, the dozen ties of Nova begin weaving patterns that interlock their flight paths until they begin shifting altitudes and the angles in which they sweep 'side to side'. Emerald energy lances screaming out and cutting a solid carpet of destruction across the turret emplacements before they rip past. Most at a more level height and Nova Leader's whisper so low that foliage and the unfortunate are picked up and hurled by the near supersonic jetwash of his passing.

<<"Shrapnel. Report clear or if further assistance is required.">>

The spillage of the pier was a spectacular display of raw power. Dust, water, mud, sand.. it all stirred up in a valiant plume that the pilots could see from above. Rain poured, and was probably the only component of the battle that brought the stunned Bellam troopers back to reality as they tried to untangle themselves from the rubble only to find the enemy was much closer than before.

The Sith Empire wasted no time in closing the distance, overrunning the rebels in both volume where war cries were made, and in violence.

Suddenly, a MASSIVE explosion rocks the battlefield, kinetic energy displacing the rainfall as a turret goes up in wonderous fashion (thank Ace). BOOOOOOOOOM! The explosion is accompanied by a series of others that in methodical passion (and fashion) follow up the singular explosion with /several/. Where once defense turrets aligned this section of the beach, no only craters and smoking pillars remained.

Before the smoke, or even the gravel and earth have all landed from the explosion, Shrapnel's Lieutenant crests the levee and waves for his men to fall in line, "FOLLOW ME!" Ser Bors request for effect on target follows as the Corporal Radioman hastily responds. <<"Nova Leader, Nova Leader.. this is Shrapnel. All targets eliminated. Thanks for the assist, sir. Over.">>

By the pier, Kalus moves her lightsaber through a gentle and graceful routine, not outright killing her targets, but disarming and disabling them. It is quick work leaving three rebels in the sand clutching absent body parts from instantly cauterized wounds. She trudges forward, inspired by the advance of Shrapnel platoon. She moves over the levee and makes for land.

Captain Skarra from the Merciless is heard over comms. <<"Ground forces, this is Merciless. Reconnaissance has identified the location of Bellam's shield generator. All indications lead us to believe its resonator is in the palace. Proceed aggressively. We have deployed reinforcements. For the Empire.">>

As Shrapnel and Our Unit make it to ground, they have arrived within a large park. The palace in question can be seen through the violet palm trees of this dense, jungle like park. Unfortunately, a mechanized unit with light armor hover vehicles have moved into place, three of the five of which are tanks. Shrapnel takes a devastating blow when a crimson lance like shell impacts the vicinity they're advancing and wipes a third of their unit in a single shot. Shrapnel spreads out, using the rocky outcroppings for cover.

Bellam forces dispatch infantry at that point, some 50 strong charging from the vehicle defense line to force the Imperials into the open to suffer more tank fire. Turret fire from the vehicles suppress the general area, hissing and cracking through the leaves of the 'jungle' park.

Roughly 25 rebels come into contact with our unit and engage in close quarters battle. 4 of the remaining rebels from the beach also engage.

Qar-duun's suppressive fire is for naught, these troops being presumably hardened to hardship and loss (specifically by the Sith turning their first rank into a crater filled with errant limbs and torsos.) He advances nonetheless, remorseless and inevitable...

A way would need to be made, if the team intended to have the ability to take the tanks head on. And Achlys, at least, seemed intent on making that room. A twitch of their wrist, and the silvered hilt of their lightsaber slipped into a gloved hand, the firey orange blade igniting as they strode forward. The way was, if not open, then opening, as the flame danced, three bodies falling as they were cleaved in two, leaving a half dozen new obstacles in the way of the defending forces.

Chaos roils around Alys. Lightsabers flash, blasters bark, and rebels fall. To the Acolyte, all of this happens in a haze for her, like a veil of shadow is covering her eyes. It doesn't impede her vision, but it just tints the world.

As the captain of the Merciless comes over comms to give intel, Alys makes her decision. There are two Masters in this group. Plus Darth Arcana and two other (inferior) Acolytes. She dips into another shadow, reinforcing her power before she hurries on at a jog towards the palace. She can do this before the rebels even know she's here.

Down doesn't mean out and ES-5309 is well aware of that fact. His first blast scores a hit against his target but the rebel's body armor absorbs some of the lethality. His second shot goes wide when the rebel rolls aside in an attempt to save himself. Return fire strikes ES-5309 in the torso and sends him reeling a pair of steps back. He digs his booted feet in and pushes back against the impact, thrusting the barrel of his rifle forward as he begins to pepper the wounded rebel. The presence of another rebel emerging from the fog of war, illuminated by the short-lived glow of blaster fire brings ES-5309's rifle around to target the knee threat. He drops himself with a clatter to a knee and begins to squeeze the trigger of his rifle, sending hot death in the direction of the rebel. "Just like the simulations, Lieutenant!" he calls out to TK-C1C4.

Explosions are cool, but people have to interrupt the aftermath of the work when shooting at someone! This causes Thrace to round on the interloper, the visor of her helm can't convey the frown she's wearing on her face, but the way she swings the stunsaber can. Thankfully neither Thrace, nor the soldier can hit. So it's not like it's a worry. For now at least.

The air is thick with blaster fire as suddenly there's a slew of rebels now charging out of what feels like are the woodwork. Her hand coming up, knifehanding it toward the rebels as she calls out, <"Make ready!"> Her head turning to see ES-5309 take a hit. She has no time to waste as she calls to him, <"Good work! That's the way of it ES-5309."> She had missed the rebel lining up on her, but she wasn't about to slow down her own advance. The blaster coming at her when that flick of light from a lightsaber intercepts it.

<"Thank you, ma'am."> And without a second more though she's got the rifle back into her shoulder. <"SHRAPNEL! KEEP THEM DOWN! If I see a single one alive when the firing stops, I will personally sign the orders to send you to a Sanitation battalion!"> She grabs one by the pauldron, hauling him to his feet and shoving him forward into the blaster fire as they begin to lay down a suppressing fire.

<<"Nova Leader, Nova Leader.. This is TK-C1C4. Request assault on Armor in quadrant-">> a flick up to look at the map in her helmet, <<"-51 mark 3. Repeat, 51 mark 3. Approach from the East. Over.">> And then she's looking back toward the troops in front of her, raising her own rifle to continue the suppressing fire.

A blaster bolt sails for Darth Arcana, the Sephi with the painted face smoothly turning her body and leaning in such a way that the shot zipped harmlessly by...another bolt? It sizzles through the air headed to the Female Stormtrooper lieutenant leading the charge that Merulia didn't recognize...but a swift flick of her wrist sent the bolt hurtling back to its sender and stung the shooter a moment before she surged forwards and cut him down.

Amber eyes shifting to oneside, she twirled like some sort of weird plasma-wielding ballerina and her weapon lashed out, striking the head from the shoulders of another rebel.

<<"Elements eliminated, copy.">>

Looking to sensor reads while listening to reports from Skarra, lips pressing together behind the mask of his flight suit... Truly the most evil thing any Empire ever made. Even Stormtroopers can lift their helmet to scratch their nose. But besides that! Bors chin-taps a frequency shift switch before speaking again,

<<"Merciless, Black Knight, Mark location for the generator for close-in assessment.">>

After all, unless it was buried in the center of the palace - a wing might be an effective target for his particular skillset. At least until targets are called out and the pilot refocuses attention, <<"Black Knight copies, targeting for elimination.">>

A number of alerts from the rest of the squad notifying him of no-joy on targeting gaining a grimace from the elder man before he sighs - comms keyed off, "If they cannot do it correctly..."

Sweeping down to terrain following while his ship systems and astromech begin bracketing targets, eyes ticking point to point and his hands following whilst he weaves through ground structure and obstacles - reducing rear arc shields in order to pour a nigh constant stream of fire along the ground, chewing up armor and liquifying it before ion engines go up to hurl shrapnel and flames skyward in his wake.

Again and again he fires, warning systems in his craft alerting of overheats and the cheery bright glow of the cannon barrels slowly becomes enough to compete with the verdant staccato beams.

<<"Pass completed...">> the silencer wheeling into a half loop to gain altitude, <<"Do you require a second?">>

Close quarters chaos fills the peaceful park with the sounds of violence as Bellam natives fight the armored like of Imperial stormtroopers. The battered remains of Shrapnel platoon are disorganized until Lieutenant is able to take command of the unit and direct their fire. Intense suppressive fire is the result, and the advance of the Bellam natives is cut in half, allowing only the larger portion of the force to reach Our Unit, but ultimately saving Shrapnel's position.

As a result, the Bellam natives are locked in close quarters AND pinned down simultaneously. Their hope for retreat is dashed a second later when a singular fighter from Nova Squadron manages to mitigate the storm's interference to run a spectacular close air support mission. The entire mechanized line is lit up in a brilliant flash of explosions.

Darth Kalus must shield her eyes from the bright flash of explosions, leaving her attacks more as wards to stave off her opponents than actually effectively harming them. She does raise her weapon to redirect a bolt intended for her, the defensive stance altered a second later to 'sling' the energy back to its source.

<<"Black Knight, this is Merciless Actual. We have marked the palace. Can you or your squadron perform a recon run to ascertain defenses? Over.">>

The fighting continues in the park, but with Shrapnel's help, the Bellam natives are being picked off as they pop up to engage our Unit.

Qar-duun's mammoth sidearm with shimmering green projectiles claims additional lives as he stalks through the increasingly-dire-for-Bellam situation. Corpses for the pile, resistors to the power of the Sith Empire now fated to appear on a bronze plaque a hundred years hence, if Qar-duun's culture will allow futile resistance commemorated?

As the tanks were eliminated, Achlys pivoted, moving away from the direction that would have pitted them against the mechanized forced. The helm prevented the flashes of explosions from dimming their vision as they moved, though the sheer chaos made it impossible to eliminate more than a single target. The other two swings of their saber only pushing aside the enemy. Though, perhaps it would have the benefit of moving them into someone else's line of fire. One could hope.

Alys continues through the shadows, at best a ripple in the air as she passes through the streets. Even the hum of her lightsaber is reduced to so much background white noise, the glare of it nothing more than the reflection from a window. Like a hunting spider, the Acolyte is silent and unseen.

She stops short on the main road before the pyramidal palace, the stairs up lined with scores of soldiers and turrets. Frowning, she ducks behind a handy utility box, pulling out her commlink.

<<Novas. Ping on my location, I need air support to get inside in a timely manner.>>

At such close quarters it's a surprise that anyone can possibly miss. Adrenaline can do crazy things to the unprepared and uninitiated though. Blaster bolts hiss through the air around ES-5309 and the trooper attempts to move into cover before returning fire. What he wouldn't do for a personal shield generator right now. Maybe some day when he's a Captain or something! "They're losing reinforcements!" he calls out. Were they? Was it all an elaborate psyop to shake the resolve of the Bellam defenders? Who truly knows. He continues to blast away at the rebels, fighting from his cover until his rifle offers up a dissatisfying click-click to signal his powercell had run dry. Time for a reload!

Thrace figures that throwing her stunsaber at an enemy would make someone frown at her, so she rounds on them, digging her feet into the sand and swinging around in an arc. After two swings the opposer is down and disabled. There is a tilt of her head to look down at them before she finds the next target.

The explosions of the armor detonating cause a momentary pause in the Lieutenant, a half turn as her hand comes up to the side of her helmet to hear the response. Her head turning back toward where the armor is, the secondary detonations within the vehicles as shrapnel is sent at least a thousand feet into the air. Sheer destruction. She pauses to admire it, the filters not quite removing all of the smell of burnt fuel from the plasma generators. Gotta love the smell of burning plasma in the evening. <<"Black Knight, Black Knight.. TK-C1C4. Armor destroyed. Repeat, armor destroyed. All targets annihilated. Good shooting, good hunting, over.">>

<"MOVE!"> TK-C1C4 yells out at a passing trooper that was moving too slow for her liking. Probably one of Shrapnel, her Platoon knows better than that. Tucking the blaster rifle back into her shoulder she sees the Sergeant gun down yet another one of the Rebels. <"Good work, ES-5309, now get up and GO! First one to the burning husks of armor gets a recommendation for commendation!">

And TK-C1C4 leads by that example as she pulls the rifle in tight and starts shooting once more. The first bolt hitting one of the Rebels while her second shot goes wide. <"I am not rewarding second place! If I get there before you, no rations on the way back to fleet!">

Merulia's cutting her way through the rebels was...a simpler path. She wasn't commanding forces, she wasn't infiltrating ahead, she certainly wasn't flying a starfighter and performing close air support. Instead the figure whose fair form might be endearing or enticing were it not for that glowing weapon and the sinister air of that Nightsister warpaint had been working her way through cutting down foes with vicious certainty.

Plunging her saber into the chest of one she turned to the next, a swift slash intended to cut the man in two evaded with surprising footwork before the 'false edge' sweep too was ducked.

The Rebel might actually feel smug, but Darth Arcana was still coming...and she was far from the only threat on the field.

<<"Merciless, Black Knight, acknowledged. Performing recon pass.">> Another chin press switching to squad comms, the orders to continue air support issued as Bors's thumb brushes against the throttle wheel on his yoke. The aurabesh counting up not to five, not to five... No there were modifications in both the engines as well as the cockpit equipment.

Another tap of his chin, <<"Acknowledged, Lady.">> Affording Alys her title for station, if not for her birth. TIE craft wheeling one way, then the next as he makes to move erratically to keep anti-air from lining up an easy shot on him,

<<"Nova Squadron, fire on mark, one pass. Evasive maneuvers and prepare for second pass.">>

Storm interference was doing its work to throw static into his systems, making Lord Thul frown until his thumb brushed again. Little modifications. Little etchings, enameled, filled in. Pushing the throttle knob's indicator to the little mark for the number 11.

All twelve TIES surge forward, though admittedly most lag behind the Black Knight as his quintet of heavy cannons lay waste to the defenders and defenses on the stairs. Cutting swathes of ruin and ash from incinerated targets, allowing a moment for them to blink before the next eleven shoot past, similar viridian firestorms reducing those not granted the mercy of swift end the time to throw themselves to the ground, rolling, trying to extinguish the flames.

<<"Merciless, Black Knight, Too much interference for recon this pass.">>

Shrapnel and Our Unit have pushed through the park, now reduced to fire with numerous smoking craters. Bodies litter the ground everywhere. They are greeted by a main street made of stone and aligned with buildings on each side leading up to a palace pyramid. Its grand approach a massive stairwell, or it had been until Nova Squadron had laid waste to the defenses there marked by Alys Zapal.

What had been a last ditch effort to defend the exterior of the palace has retreated inward, hoping to hold out against the coming storm. As Darth Kalus and Darth Achlys emerge, the Dark Lords are alerted to the arrival of reinforcements, the rest of the advanced party, Battalion S, has arrived. What's left of Shrapnel platoon is joined by Sabotage and Serpent. Columns of stormtroopers form, Sergeants calling commands to organize the group on their approach. On orders from the Dark Lords, the entire battalion begin their march into the temple. Despite the massive doors closing them off from immediate entrance, the defenders are not aware that a Sith Assassin has made it passed their line and lurks in the shadows, eager to find a way for her allies to get inside.

Meanwhile, the Despot and his forces have breached the city gates. Mandalorians move into the city, fighting street to street, house to house in an effort to get to the palace. Kast, in his arrogance, has chosen a challenging fight to make up for the fact he asked for help.

<<"Black Knight, Merciless. Understood. You are being reassigned to Mandalorian elements. Switch to frequency 232 -tac- 2. Over.">>