Jagd
Planetoid
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2015
- Location
- West Coast
It was the third year of the war. The Sith had once again come out of hiding from somewhere in the Outer Rim. Their forces were cruel, striking fast, taking out large targets and then demanding the surrender of the general population. Some worlds had joined voluntarily but most were brought to heel by the vicious reputation and devastating tactics of the Sith war machine. The Republic and Jedi Order were traditionally slow to act though they were sure to cover any and all atrocities the Sith committed in their new sweep to conquer portions of if not the entire galaxy.
It was the third year and the war was not going well. It was better. The Republic and Jedi forces had retaken some worlds, gained new allies, struck out against the Sith menace but the fighting was fierce and the Sith sphere of influence was still expanding. It had expanded to Lorahns within the past year. Word was the Sith had corrupted the local theocracy and had begun using the planet as a staging ground for attacks into the Core worlds. A significant fleet was to make landfall within the next two days and it was up to two Republic regiments to stop them. The Jedi had sent one of their own, Master Rultan and his padawan apprentice. Master Rultan had worked closely on developing the strategy for taking the city and most importantly the starport on the Lorahns city of Khwyr. While air attacks would be used as a diversion and significant forces were to be sent at the power stations as a diversion he and a small force would attempt to go in and sabotage the starport.
The day of the attack was punctuated by the smell of ozone as blaster fire ripped through the air and the screams of the civilians running for shelter, running to get out of the combat zone, running to save loved ones or just themselves from the horror that played out over the city. As it battle wore on the smell of the burned flesh from blaster bolts, flame throwers and explosions began to permeate the area around the platoon and yet they continued to strike forward finally making it to the massive starport which stretched up into the clouds.
The building itself was a work of art and it was a key financial piece to the city. The outside glittered despite the battles which had been waged within its shadow. The tower glistened and within those glimmering glass panes were etchings of artistic motifs which once inside played out across the architecture as the slowest form of shadow play. It was an edifice designed to show the glory of the culture, to exalt their deity and to provide an opulent display to foreigners that despite their theocracy these were not back water fanatics they were dealing with.
Little of that mattered though as the platoon met the first defense squad which it easily dispatched but as they began to make their way through the complex the defenders became better organized and their tactics, their ambushes were better structured. Yet the Republic forces with the aid of Jedi Rultan and his apprentice were able to keep pushing in deeper to their target.
Once deep within the complex, no longer able to see the artistic outer walls they were once more pinned by a small group of soldiers loyal to the Sith. The massive room, a loading area which only possessed a few crates and other containers within it. There was a walkway around where a second story could have been built if it hadn’t been designed for storage. There were two massive doors and two other entrances on the main floor. All the fighting was going on the main floor so Rultan ordered three troopers up onto the walkway. As the second one mounted the stairs some idiot launched rockets within the confined room. It wasn’t one idiot it was like four idiots as incredible explosions rocked the building. Crates and the walkways crumbled down crushing some who hadn’t died from the explosions. Neither side had been spared and yet their desire to kill one another meant that a smattering few from each force who had survived or were currently in the process of slowly dying from internal injuries had lifted their blasters to shoot at each other again.
Master Rultan though had managed to throw his apprentice behind him and using the force shifted several crates in front of them to protect them from the blast. It meant that for a few minutes they were not part of the fight as they had to use the force to remove the rubble which had been their protection. Yet there was a shift in the Jedi. New sounds began crackling outside their impromptu bunker, a new presence and Rultan was visibly agitated. A sight most rare for his padawan. “As soon as we are out, attack. There is a great foe outside.” He warned in a harsh whisper.
Rultan could be described as an absent teacher. He told her what she needed to know but not why. Took her on missions but didn’t include her in the planning. Showed her how to use the force but not how to feel it. It was important not to feel. That was his lesson, that was key. Emotions were the enemy and maybe that is what made Rultan seem so milquetoast as a Jedi Master, he was almost automaton like in his lack of affectation, his lack of displaying or seeming to show emotion. So it was uncharacteristic at least that now he should show such feelings. Such a rare sight made it hard to determine what it was her master felt. That is until he made a hole in their barricade and lept forth to face this new foe.
Outside of their bubble of debris was a hellish scene. Metal, ceramic, bodies twisted, crushed and intertwined with each other while the floor was now slick from fluids held in various containers and the blood of so many lost solders. The moans, screams and pleading of the injured and dying was broken up by the sporadic blaster fire of the few who were still able to fight. Yet there was still motion, life in some of the soldiers who were caught in the struggle before the explosions ripped through and now new life was pour in. There were new Sith soldiers jumping down from one of the upper story doors and rushing through fighting the remnants of the Republic force but leading the way was something else.
A Sith.
Like most of his ilk he wore black robes, in this case over armor or at least a helmet and breastplate his legs were obscured beneath the heavy long black skirt with multiple belts crossing over the upper half of it. His clothing had seen battle. All but the left bracer which was probably a replacement for one too damaged to remain of use. Holes, scorch marks pocked the robes and skirt. Chips of armor were missing from some battle heretofore unseen. The mask over his face was simply decorated but even there was evidence of attacks which had gotten too close. Then the Sith moved as if no force could stop him. There was no hesitation, no carefully picking his way over the debris. He strode forth as if this moment was his.
Twin crimson blades arced through the air, descending one after another through a Republic soldier. They were raised again this time to block blaster fire. The battle waged, meager as it was at this point and the Sith moved through it as if waiting for a party to actually begin. He wasn’t the most skilled with the lightsabers. The padawan had seen better, several in fact. Yet he was effective enough in dispatching the few remaining soldiers that had come on this mission with her master and her. Still there was a quality to him, something in the force, in how he manipulated it, how he coexisted with it meant he was not to be taken lightly.
The Jedi master certainly did not take the Sith lightly. His padawan witnessed something she had never seen before on Rultan. Malice. He wanted this Sith dead, not because he was the enemy or that he was Sith, it was something else and it was primal. The Jedi launched himself at the Sith giving a one word command to his student, “Attack.” The word was growled. Rultan growls?
The room suddenly was alive again with movement, with action, fighting, imminent danger and yet the soldiery had more or less finished. They did not engage any of the force wielders. Instead they had focused on finishing off the remaining Republic soldiers who had come here with their explosives to deny this strategic asset of the enemy. Their job done they moved to the outskirts and bore witness to the light show.
The Force was manipulated by both sides, to discern the enemy’s next move, to shove them, hold them, to jump impossible distances, to run faster then most any sentient species, to launch their vicious attacks on one another. Lightsabers clashed and swung at each other. The two red blades against the blue and green blades of the Jedi. In a fit of relentlessly driving the attack Rultan managed to disarm the Sith of one of his blades. This turned out to be a mistake, for while there were many Jedi who were better duelists than this Sith what the Sith then was able to do by manipulating the Force. Lightning arced from his fingers. His control of pushing, pulling, choking one or the other of the Jedi was cruel and excessive.
Yet he was still facing two duelists. He back his way under their driving assault out of the storage room and then out of that room to the next. After fighting yet giving ground for four rooms he lashed out once more and this time caught the padawan and threw her into the air, smashing her against the pitched corner of where the ceiling and wall met. Her head smacking into the plasticrete ceiling before falling and landing unceremoniously on the floor. A blow which which led to the uneasy black of unconsciousness.
It was the third year and the war was not going well. It was better. The Republic and Jedi forces had retaken some worlds, gained new allies, struck out against the Sith menace but the fighting was fierce and the Sith sphere of influence was still expanding. It had expanded to Lorahns within the past year. Word was the Sith had corrupted the local theocracy and had begun using the planet as a staging ground for attacks into the Core worlds. A significant fleet was to make landfall within the next two days and it was up to two Republic regiments to stop them. The Jedi had sent one of their own, Master Rultan and his padawan apprentice. Master Rultan had worked closely on developing the strategy for taking the city and most importantly the starport on the Lorahns city of Khwyr. While air attacks would be used as a diversion and significant forces were to be sent at the power stations as a diversion he and a small force would attempt to go in and sabotage the starport.
The day of the attack was punctuated by the smell of ozone as blaster fire ripped through the air and the screams of the civilians running for shelter, running to get out of the combat zone, running to save loved ones or just themselves from the horror that played out over the city. As it battle wore on the smell of the burned flesh from blaster bolts, flame throwers and explosions began to permeate the area around the platoon and yet they continued to strike forward finally making it to the massive starport which stretched up into the clouds.
The building itself was a work of art and it was a key financial piece to the city. The outside glittered despite the battles which had been waged within its shadow. The tower glistened and within those glimmering glass panes were etchings of artistic motifs which once inside played out across the architecture as the slowest form of shadow play. It was an edifice designed to show the glory of the culture, to exalt their deity and to provide an opulent display to foreigners that despite their theocracy these were not back water fanatics they were dealing with.
Little of that mattered though as the platoon met the first defense squad which it easily dispatched but as they began to make their way through the complex the defenders became better organized and their tactics, their ambushes were better structured. Yet the Republic forces with the aid of Jedi Rultan and his apprentice were able to keep pushing in deeper to their target.
Once deep within the complex, no longer able to see the artistic outer walls they were once more pinned by a small group of soldiers loyal to the Sith. The massive room, a loading area which only possessed a few crates and other containers within it. There was a walkway around where a second story could have been built if it hadn’t been designed for storage. There were two massive doors and two other entrances on the main floor. All the fighting was going on the main floor so Rultan ordered three troopers up onto the walkway. As the second one mounted the stairs some idiot launched rockets within the confined room. It wasn’t one idiot it was like four idiots as incredible explosions rocked the building. Crates and the walkways crumbled down crushing some who hadn’t died from the explosions. Neither side had been spared and yet their desire to kill one another meant that a smattering few from each force who had survived or were currently in the process of slowly dying from internal injuries had lifted their blasters to shoot at each other again.
Master Rultan though had managed to throw his apprentice behind him and using the force shifted several crates in front of them to protect them from the blast. It meant that for a few minutes they were not part of the fight as they had to use the force to remove the rubble which had been their protection. Yet there was a shift in the Jedi. New sounds began crackling outside their impromptu bunker, a new presence and Rultan was visibly agitated. A sight most rare for his padawan. “As soon as we are out, attack. There is a great foe outside.” He warned in a harsh whisper.
Rultan could be described as an absent teacher. He told her what she needed to know but not why. Took her on missions but didn’t include her in the planning. Showed her how to use the force but not how to feel it. It was important not to feel. That was his lesson, that was key. Emotions were the enemy and maybe that is what made Rultan seem so milquetoast as a Jedi Master, he was almost automaton like in his lack of affectation, his lack of displaying or seeming to show emotion. So it was uncharacteristic at least that now he should show such feelings. Such a rare sight made it hard to determine what it was her master felt. That is until he made a hole in their barricade and lept forth to face this new foe.
Outside of their bubble of debris was a hellish scene. Metal, ceramic, bodies twisted, crushed and intertwined with each other while the floor was now slick from fluids held in various containers and the blood of so many lost solders. The moans, screams and pleading of the injured and dying was broken up by the sporadic blaster fire of the few who were still able to fight. Yet there was still motion, life in some of the soldiers who were caught in the struggle before the explosions ripped through and now new life was pour in. There were new Sith soldiers jumping down from one of the upper story doors and rushing through fighting the remnants of the Republic force but leading the way was something else.
A Sith.
Like most of his ilk he wore black robes, in this case over armor or at least a helmet and breastplate his legs were obscured beneath the heavy long black skirt with multiple belts crossing over the upper half of it. His clothing had seen battle. All but the left bracer which was probably a replacement for one too damaged to remain of use. Holes, scorch marks pocked the robes and skirt. Chips of armor were missing from some battle heretofore unseen. The mask over his face was simply decorated but even there was evidence of attacks which had gotten too close. Then the Sith moved as if no force could stop him. There was no hesitation, no carefully picking his way over the debris. He strode forth as if this moment was his.
Twin crimson blades arced through the air, descending one after another through a Republic soldier. They were raised again this time to block blaster fire. The battle waged, meager as it was at this point and the Sith moved through it as if waiting for a party to actually begin. He wasn’t the most skilled with the lightsabers. The padawan had seen better, several in fact. Yet he was effective enough in dispatching the few remaining soldiers that had come on this mission with her master and her. Still there was a quality to him, something in the force, in how he manipulated it, how he coexisted with it meant he was not to be taken lightly.
The Jedi master certainly did not take the Sith lightly. His padawan witnessed something she had never seen before on Rultan. Malice. He wanted this Sith dead, not because he was the enemy or that he was Sith, it was something else and it was primal. The Jedi launched himself at the Sith giving a one word command to his student, “Attack.” The word was growled. Rultan growls?
The room suddenly was alive again with movement, with action, fighting, imminent danger and yet the soldiery had more or less finished. They did not engage any of the force wielders. Instead they had focused on finishing off the remaining Republic soldiers who had come here with their explosives to deny this strategic asset of the enemy. Their job done they moved to the outskirts and bore witness to the light show.
The Force was manipulated by both sides, to discern the enemy’s next move, to shove them, hold them, to jump impossible distances, to run faster then most any sentient species, to launch their vicious attacks on one another. Lightsabers clashed and swung at each other. The two red blades against the blue and green blades of the Jedi. In a fit of relentlessly driving the attack Rultan managed to disarm the Sith of one of his blades. This turned out to be a mistake, for while there were many Jedi who were better duelists than this Sith what the Sith then was able to do by manipulating the Force. Lightning arced from his fingers. His control of pushing, pulling, choking one or the other of the Jedi was cruel and excessive.
Yet he was still facing two duelists. He back his way under their driving assault out of the storage room and then out of that room to the next. After fighting yet giving ground for four rooms he lashed out once more and this time caught the padawan and threw her into the air, smashing her against the pitched corner of where the ceiling and wall met. Her head smacking into the plasticrete ceiling before falling and landing unceremoniously on the floor. A blow which which led to the uneasy black of unconsciousness.