Quicksand

[Kita_Ikari]

Finishing brushing the dirt from her golden hair, she looked over at Jacobi as he helped Kressara up. Her mouth gaped open as he grabbed hold of her around the waist and assisting her to her feet. His agreeing to get Kressera a drink shocked her even more. He never asked me if I was ok! Much less offer a drink either. Thankfully with her helmet on, her expression of shock and unrealized jealousy were hidden from sight. She wasn't sure if it was mutual between them or not, but either way the situation pissed her off. Kita quickly regained her own strength in standing...just from trying to keep herself from shoving herself in between them. And she didn't want to cause a scene when everyone else needed to focus on the mission, so she stood aside quietly til addressed for instruction.

Her blue gaze switched over to Emic as she got off her bike and removed her helmet with a sarcastic greeting.
Jacobi. I'd say it's nice to see you. But I won't.
Kita wasn't sure what Emics problem was with him...but she had to hold herself from laughing. As he discussed what Emic's role was, it wasn't long before he explained everyone elses job in the mission. With Emic on one side and Kressara heading for the other, it made sense that was a better plan to get to the artillery than having the possiblilty of being wiped out in one go. Averting her gaze in the distance, she noticed Warvanus silhouette making his way towards them, before bringing her full focus back to the rest of the group as a rifle was put in her hand.

Those pistols will only get you about twenty five meters on a shot and fifty if you’re good with them. We’ll be at longer distances than fifty today.[/i ] Jacobi's instructions were clear enough. She was sticking by him and aiming for anyone who dared to shoot at them as they neared the artillery. It was gonna be long run today on the battlefield. Hopefully she had the skills to handle a rifle. Kita knew she was good with a staff...but never really used guns of any kind...so she wasn't as confident in herself as he was. His nod of encouragement helped her to find the strength however to do her best.

Once they managed to cover some ground, Keressa had already headed off into a different direction. Her silver armor gleamed as the hot sunlight beat down on them, her rifle held in front of her at the ready. "Pretty sure I saw...what was his name? Warvanus?" There was a awkward pause before she continued. "Anyway, I think I saw him heading our way not far behind us. And if not...well...then I guess I got no choice but to shoot them." She stated.

Kita hadn't killed anyone yet. Animals? Yes. But a person? No.
Recalling her training on Zoist, Kita knew she couldn't take the chance of herself or anyone else in her team be killed while on the battlefield. Especially not Jacobi. Even if it was hard to do...she knew it had to be done. However, their was no doubt in her mind it would haunt her later on. Kita wasn't quite sure if she was prepared mentally for that...taking someone's own life. And yet it happened everyday somewhere where a war was occurring. She shook her head pushing the thought away. Kita couldn't allow herself to think about that now. All that mattered right now was surviving...

[Jacobi Wylcott]

His legs burned with the distance that he was to cover at a battle march pace - swifter than a slight jog, slower than a run. It was the perfect combination of time management on the battlefield. Where one could traverse terrain on foot in a timely manner yet not be too overly winded when the shooting started. Unfortunately though, Jacobi was still in the process of getting back into prime shape and he was feeling the strain in his lungs and burning thighs. He would have to be sure to correct his lack of physical conditioning later once all this cooled down.

They came over a low rise where a hilltop now separated them from the artillery position. While he didn’t see Kressara make her move his tacpad caught her in the action of combat, no doubt the Crow had found a vulnerable point of attack where she’d exploit. He needed to pick his own position with Kita to begin their assault and either draw some attention or use Kressara as bait. A slight grin crept onto his features at that thought but the honor bound warrior within his heart would never set Kressara to the wolves for an advantage. Tormentous at work in his mind however dared anything if it worked out better for him.

Kita and Jacobi knelt low and crested the ridge, out in an opening by about 65 meters away sat the gun that they had targeted. The crew was a three man team who unloaded expended rounds and slammed home new ones with a well drilled organization. A half squad of troops with at least two fully armored Mandalorians were covering them in their own fighting positions. Not a very keen setting for so few attackers. Jacobi wondered briefly where the other half was.

Setting a grenade into his launcher he also charged his rifle’s power pack and eyed Kita. “No more training. No more drills. You’ve come a long way, now let’s see what you’re made of.”

Snapping up to a firing position he squeezed his trigger and sent a three round burst into one of the troops nearest them. The man died poorly and his corpse smoldered on the ground while his buddies scrambled to face the sudden incoming danger. Return fire was not well but one of the Mandalorians began directing the men and organizing them into a better force to repel Jacobi and Kita.

Jacobi delivered his grenade into the ground just before the orderly Mando and sent him flying away. He doubted the shot had killed the armored warrior but the confusion of losing their apparent commander would buy them some time.

Burning shots came back at them and the Wylcott only reveled in the joy of the combat he was blessed with. It was time to sing the song of battle once more.

[Kell Sangros]

On the ground carnage and smoke dominated the landscape, thesounds of war in the air.  In the skylittered with smoke trails and the buzzing of ships can be heard.  One thing is apparent War had come to thisworld.  A war between warring clans, andwith it the most feared of the Lords of the Sith.  Leading the charge was the former Dark Lordhimself, the true Mandalore. The father of the order, even the current DarkLord studied at this man’s feet.  Accompanyinghim, his last true apprentice, the one called the War-Bringer, War incarnate.It was the will of the Dark Side, that marked the War-Bringer’s arrival to thisnow war-torn world.  He was a one beingwrecking crew. He did not shy from the chaos of battle but ran head first intoit.  This was another stepping stone inhis ultimate goal, and that of the Krath. A step to reinstate the Dark Lord to his rightful place.

Tormentous had something to gain here and Warvanus would do all he could to make sure that hegot what he came here for. If he truly sought anything here to begin with.  Warvanus had made his entrance point earlier than the others and had to slaughter his way to the where the rest of the forcewas. Not a impossible task for one such as skilled and empowered as theWar-Bringer.Warvanus rode the liberated swoop as he made his way to therest of the team, he was a jouster striking down any who crossed his path as heattempted to make his way to the rest of the team.  At one point striking down a Mandaloriangrunt he had struck the beskar helmet which had caused his blade to break intotwo. He discarded the useless steel. His hands gripping the handlebars of theswoop he twisted the grips, giving the swoop even more speed. He let the DarkSide wash over him, guiding his actions , guiding his reflexes as he swervedleft and right. The swoop was to the common eye a machine possessed.

Approaching the horizon was a tank, he could feel the  members of his team closer than they had been.  Warvanus urged the swoop on, full speed, he looked like he was a mad man, as it was evident what he was going to do. He knew what he was doing, and what he was going to do, closer and closer the swoop got, the tank which appeared to be of the same designed used in  the battle that saw the Gungans and Naboo united against the machinations of Darth Sidious it had tried to take shots at the swoop. When the swoop got in range, Warvanus had launched himself  (Force Jump) and through the Force had used it to guide him back to ground without injury. He landed in time to see the result of his handiwork. While the tank was not destroyed it was out of commission, but the swoop was shrapnel now.

Warvanus turned to find himself surrounded by Sorrell warriors and mercenaries, all weapons drawn on him. He had begun to draw on the Dark Side waiting for a plan to formulate, until as sudden as he could feel the Dark Side, he felt nothing.  The Force was no longer with him, no longer serving him. As he tried to process what was happening, he could feel the warriors disarming him of his lightsaber, which stirred him  to the present situation at hand.  He glanced around and noticed creatures he recognized. Ysalmari, surrounded him, had the Sorrell known Sith were coming? if so who tipped them off? His situation was bleak They had roughly cuffed him, and took a rifle butt and struck him in the back of his head.

Darkness overtook Warvanus........

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Jacobi was into the open at a near sprint now, his shots were accurate for such a pace but even so few found their killing mark. Wounding was prevalent in the long run anyways and several were surely hit by the bucking fire of his rifle. Within fifteen paces he was upon the enemy shots flared around him and several pinged off his armor to further disturb his aim - nevertheless he went forwards like an unstoppable train and none could defy his wrath. He plunged into their lines like a broiling furnace should devour kindling and all before him did as lesser men ought - they died.

His red hot barrel slammed into a jaw bone here, his rifle butt into a chest there and when it was no longer viable to wield his medium range weapon he let it fall from his hands to catch on his sling. For a moment he was with bare hands yet no true son of Mandalore was ever unarmed and so he came forth with fist and fury. Swiftly the action became rife with close quarters desperation and all the while Wylcott was breaking bones and ending lives with every passing moment.

This was not to say that this single handed obliteration was unimpeded. By the time to smoke cleared and a lull in the fighting occurred Jacobi was at the controls of the artillery and turning it to face to distant battery to the north. Though he was bloody and bruised for his troubles - by his hand and those of his team the guns on the south ridge had fallen silent.

Clan Ordo had been given precious moments of reprieve.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

Without the long guns of Bralor artillery pounding the defensed positions of Clan Ordo, their advances had slowed to the grind of heavy armor and infantry pushes across lands of barren rock, twisted metal and death. This was to the full advantage of Ordo who had planned better for a defensive war against an enemy that was not united. This would hold true if not for the massive amount of manpower that Bralor had - the Mandalorian Clan conscripted whomever they could find so long as they could hold a basic rifle or a sword. Such wheat was chaff before Ordo’s battle hardened Mandalorian Warriors.

A stalemate then.

Henceforth it became a weary armistance of sorts. Ordo refusing to leave their trenchlines for they were so few in number and held the defensive advantage - Bralor refusing to charge into the face of strong entrenched positions lest they throw themselves upon a killing ground. It only made sense for talks of truce to begin.

This fact made little difference to Jacobi Wylcott. He cared little for the overall outcome of this war and he cared less for the weak blood shed between the two Clans. The mighty blood of the Mando’ade was a righteous thing and when spilt upon the field of battle it was glorious that they would go to the halls of Manda with a song to their name and their drinking horn filled to the brim by the Warriors that had come before.

Whilst there was a lull in the large scale conflict that did not mean that there weren’t skirmishes all throughout the lines. These smaller battles and firefights were conducted by the elite of each side. Not willing to wait for the politicians and generals to finish their debating, the commanders of the true Warriors of each flag sought to press the knife to the throat of the enemy.

Jacobi was one such blade.

The mud was thick and his patience was wearing thin but he held his temper for a bit more as he crawled forward with three Ordo Warriors. The enemy were entrenched only another few feet from him and he could hear their sniveling and carrying on as if they weren’t even in a hot warzone. Jacobi spat at the ideal of a ceasefire ending the war. What a waste of a good conflict. He dragged himself ever closer and now he was at the lip of the crater in which the enemy trenchline began.

He stared upon the enemy with utter and absolute disdain - some were sleeping, others were eating or smoking, most were talking in candid conversation of ‘back home’ and ‘family’ - the fools. Only two men were on watch. Jacobi would honor these brave souls first.

Launching up from the thickened mud in a spray he leapt up right in front of the first man on watch. Taking the soldier by surprise there was little to no chance to retaliate and Jacobi slammed the butt of his rifle into the faceplate of the man - unconscious or stunned beyond the capability to react - whatever the case Jacobi did not know but the end result left the man on his back and blood oozing from the shattered glass of his helmet.

Jacobi flew forth and he was into the trench fully now, his boots sank into the muddy earth as his legs shoved him forward, his rifle was held low at the hip as he flexed his finger and bright red burst fire tore into the second guard - before the body hit the soggy ground Jacobi was already turning to the sputtering and shocked faces of the rest of the defenders only to smile through his helmet as the other Ordo Warriors fell upon them with blades - they were torn to pieces in seconds.

This was the third fighting position they’d taken tonight and there were more yet to come.

[Kressara Thryn]

With the sights of his rifle bent and broken the warrior firing on Kressara missed the fleet footed apprentice by a hair. She took the chance to launch herself at him again, jabbing at the soldier with such ferocity that the tip of her sword shattered the glass of his helm and sunk into the nasal cavity. His gurgling curses drowned in the rush of life blood that drizzled down her upward pointed blade and colored her glove scarlet. Behind her another came charging with his combat knife trained at Kressara’s turned back, but the sloshing of mud indented by his heavy steps alerted his target far too soon to his presence. She turned, twisting as she did so, leaving the embedded blade still wedged in place within the dying man’s skull and doubled herself over. Fingers reached for the ground and scooped up a fistfull of mud, then flung the clay laden mess against her attacker’s visor. It connected with a splat and blinded him temporarily. By the time he wiped away the smudge Kressara had taken the deadman’s rifle and opened fire. Three shots out of ten rapid bursts scorched through the Mandolorian’s breast plate and torso, dropping him.

“YOU DIE HERE!”

From behind! They just don’t stop coming! The last of them in her immediate area wielding a monstrosity of a battle axe beat his fist against his chest before leaping down at Kressara with his weapon in full swing. Her eyes went wide, body reacting quicker than her mind could keep up. The crow of the sith pulled her blade free from the fallen and charged forward, thrusting it into the abdomen of the plummeting Mando before he so much as hit the ground. His full weight was upon her, but diverted with a nimble twirl as her crimson coated blade unsheathed itself from within the core of her enemy, sending him falling. his body clashed lifeless against the swampy ground.

“I’m afraid not.” She muttered to herself, taking a moment to catch her breath. She could only hope that her comrades were fairing just as well.

The turret was now unmanned, allowing for their forces to commandeer it after Kressaras departure. While she would love to run off on her own, Jacobi was her best shot at knowing where she was. Returning to his side would benefit the mission and her own well being. So without delay the young sith wiped her sword clean against her sleeve and housed it on her belt before claiming ownership of the corpse’s combat knife, then taking ginger steps up the muddy incline towards the sound of carnage she trailed after Jacobi. Smoke and blood filled her senses and left her pining for clean air, but at least they seemed to be winning. She kept her head down and maintained the high ground for the time being since the turret was disarmed, only climbing down when she was certain others might see her slender form traipsing atop their battlements.

It was then she spotted her comrades already reveling in their own successful kills. While it didn’t please her to take lives in such a magnitude, the thrill of the fight was contagious. She made herself known with heavy steps, clearing her throat. The last thing she wanted was to get murdered by accident.

“Three on the gun are down. Enforcements can take this vantage point.” She breathed the news like a sigh and straightened her posture.

[Jacobi Wylcott]

An Ordo sniper team quickly occupied the near terrain in which Kressara had liberated, gingerly they began spotting targets and calling them back for a priority check and only once officers or other high value target was isolated - a crack from their rifles would shake the quiet. Jacobi wasn’t too far from Kressara then and as she sloshed through the muddy slop he looked to her, swiping mud from his face and flicking it to the ground. “We’re almost where we need to be.” He commented once they were alone and the Ordo Clansmen were moving to occupy the newly gained territory.

He brought up a holographic image of the battlefield, they’d gone several miles since they’d hit the artillery positions and now they were pressing inward. He wouldn’t go into the specifics of what he was thinking nor his ultimate plan here on Vorpa’ya - in time all would be revealed and those that survived an/or managed to stick with him would benefit from the great gains he sought. Indeed, the fighting was but a means to an end.

Shutting away the imaging unit he pointed forwards, “Ahead through these trench lines is a bunker. We need to get to it, clear it and find the lower levels. There is some information down there that we need to make this all worthwhile.”

He started walking toward the trenchlines, “Hope you’ve still got some fight left in you Crow.”

His comment was part jibe, part truth - they’d been fighting for nearly six hours now since their initial drop into Vorpa’ya and they’d hardly slowed down. That Kressara was keeping pace was far more than admirable, she was proving her worth in battle and also she was breaking away the green from around her ears - Kressara was becoming a proper warrior.

Entering the trenches - his rifle was slung and he drew his pistol and combat knife for there was no maneuvering room for the prior. These trenches wound a treacherous path across these lands. Corners and intersections, clearing them wouldn’t be easily accomplished.

Reinforcing enemies were on their way to deliver a counter attack on the newly gained ground, he could hear them approaching. This space wasn’t ideal for a prolonged fight but he had little choice for to avoid them would mean exiting the trenchline and moving around - getting up out of the trenches at this time would be asking for a sniper to shoot him and such a demise would be unacceptable at this point. It was not a worthy death. Pressing forth he used his instincts as he approached a firing position, the setting in the trenches allowed him to set up behind a jutting edge and as the counter attacking Bralor came into proximity he pounced on them.

Knife in a reversed grip he slashed out and buried it hilt deep in a foe’s arm where he yanked the running soldier around and pistol whipped him in the face twice, pitching the dazed enemy in a twisted heap into the mud. His fellows were equally caught by surprise and Jacobi coldly shot one in the gut, doubling him over and kneeing him in the face, again the foe was pitched into the mud. Then with the element of surprise gone they were on him. Three remained and the first of their number sought to tackle Jacobi, he ducked low and wrapped his arms around Wylcott’s midsection and with the charging momentum the two crashed into the mud. Another tried to shoot the attacker but couldn’t get a shot due to the close proximity of his friend. Jacobi rolled with the tackle and came up to shoot the man but his pistol was kicked from his hand by the third man, he punched the kicker’s knee to throw him off balance and slashed his knife across the calf for a resounding scream of pain only to be tackled again. Fists slammed into his stomach but Jacobi was built of a sound constitution and these did not disable him.

Lacking breath but not resolve Jacobi forged onwards through heavy blows, again he was knocked over and again he rose back to a fighting position. The Bralor’s drew their pistols now but Jacobi was determined not to allow them a moment to use them. He leapt to the side barely avoiding the crack of one pistol and his sweep kick dumped the firing Mando to the ground where he tackled the man and rolled with the momentum to set the man on top of himself just in time to catch a pistol bolt. Dumping the dying Mandalorian away he threw his knife, it was blocked but it bought him time to get up and charge. Slamming into the last foe they both went to the ground and struggled to gain the decisive advantage.

Jacobi headbutted the man, a helmet on helmet crash that seemed to daze both of them, the calf stricken Mando pulled his pistol from distance and blasted away in a rage, shots buzzed by, one grazing Jacobi’s back and another catching him in the hip which spun him off of the Mando he’d tackled. Burning pain surged through Jacobi and as he rolled onto his side he reached out for something - anything. His free hand gripped around a metal item and he hurled it at the shooter - alas - it was a blaster pistol. The tossed weapon clocked the man in the face and staggered him but otherwise did nothing. But this purchased Jacobi a moment and he removed his helmet - charging into the staggered opponent he slammed his helmet into his foe’s head.

Again they toppled and he could hear the final foe rising to his feet, he only had a second to react. Reaching to the man’s belt he pulled and he heard the slide of leather against metal. A knife! Wasting no time he sank the knife again and again and a third time. Leaving the knife imbedded in the man’s abdomen he rolled to the side and slung his helmet as hard as he could, the protective covering caught the last man in the chest and by the time he recovered Jacobi was on him like a vicious predator.

One on five were odds where even Jacobi Wylcott found trying - one on one - this guy didn’t stand a prayer of a chance. Covered head to toe in blood and filth, Jacobi waded into his foe, expertly blocking thrust cuts and slashes with his fists and forearms - driving the enemy back with each step.

The end came when the man charged Jacobi and the Warrior made a thrust in which Jacobi caught the wrist, twisted inward and slammed the body against the wall, using momentum he buried the man’s own knife into his throat, a warm wash of blood spurted across the side of Jacobi’s face and the low gurgle told him it was over.

In it’s entirety the fight had lasted only a few precious seconds.

Arms and legs burning from exertion - Jacobi spat a mixture of mud and blood from his mouth - fortunately his adrenaline did not allow the shot to his hip to even register yet but when it did he would certainly feel it.

He took a moment to breath, his lungs burned as well, fatigue was right around the corner and the building lactic acid was worming its way into his muscles. He took up his pistol, checked it - it was cleared and ready. His knife was buried in a man and he had to yank it free to retrieve it. “Let’s keep moving, we’re almost to the bunker.”

[Kressara Thryn]

The quip didn’t go unappreciated. A wry smirk curved the apprentice’s lips at the joke/challenge, giving her an uncommonly casual appearance as she shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know. You might just have to carry me out of here.”

Clearly she was being facetious. This one was definitely unhinged in her own special way, able to pull a smile and a joke out of nowhere during an all out mud and blood bath that she didn’t really feel too inclined to complete. She was in the thick of it now though. No turning back, and the promise of resources and information to better her master was more than enough to spur the young blood onward.

Without much of a breather the troop marched onwards and left the scene before those pesky reinforcements diverted them from their task. Kressara was hot on Jacobi’s heels with a spring in her step now that her head was in the game. With the proper motivation and time to recover from her ridiculous fear of heights and motion sickness, Kressara had the calm mind of a trained killer, capable of overriding the adrenaline that flushed her veins with every new enemy they crossed. Perhaps it was a year in the maximum security environment of the prison on Dromund Kaas that coated her nerves in theoretical beskar. One could only imagine the constant struggle she endured that would have mentally hardened such a green apprentice, allowing her to have the mindset of someone far older and twice as keen on battle even if she was still no match for enemies of a stronger constitution.

What’s that old saying? It’s all in your head? Fake it till you make it? Knowing is half the battle?

What she lacked in experience and skill in the force, Kressara made up for in mind. The kid had potential in hangar loads.

Every bound led them closer to their destination and when Jacobi engaged the five warriors in a fight against the odds, his comrade found herself in an equally unlikely situation. A sniper. Hidden well, but her eyes caught the glint of a scope on the rocky jut overlooking the fight. Immediately she took to the edge of the trench wall and crouched low, moving with a purpose towards the location of the glimmer like a cat on the prowl. Once clear, Kressara ascended the incline and put herself in the line of fire for only a moment to reach the sniper’s covered hiding place. Several bolts fired at Kressara, missing her barely before she was tucked behind a couple of boulders and right on top of the hidden gunman that had been picking off troops within the otherwise sniper safe trenches.

She pounced, digging her knife into the shoulder blade of the unaware sniper only to be grabbed by the back of her clothing and heaved clear against the rocks that shielded them from bullet hale. Kressara’s back cracked against the stone and her body dropped with a thud against the ground, eyes traveling upwards to see the biggest SOB she’d ever laid eyes on.

This man was a beast, clad in heavy camouflage and chosen to guard such an important sniper for a reason. Now by this time Jacobi was likely done with his own skirmish, Kressara’s dangerous field trip saving him a round to the skull as the sniper lay wailing, struggling to remove the combat knife still wedged within his back that disabled the use of his arm.

“Scum!” The mountain in armor hissed before bringing a bootheel down towards the young sith’s face. She had nowhere to roll, nowhere to flee in the cramped arena, and had she not lifted her arms to defend her fragile skull then his kick would have surely shattered it into uncountable fragments. The weight of the planet crashed against her forearms and micro-fractured her left appendage judging by the immense pain that rattled her down to her marrow, wrenching a scream out of the cornered apprentice. Her enemy dropped down to one knee, reached straight through her meager defense, and latched onto her throat with his plated gauntlet applying mind numbing pressure. Instantly Kressara felt the headrush and scrambled to no avail as she was hefted from the ground and into the air by her neck.

A sick chuckle shook the monster’s chest and his grip tightened. Closer to the edge step by step he dragged the girl helplessly to hoist her over the slope where snipers could pelt her with ease, but this was not the first time nor the last time Kressara would have to take on an opponent so obviously out of her league.

Training with lord Blood taught her what to do in this situation and his instructions ran through her mind like a guide to escape certain death. Against all instincts she ignored the desperation to peel his fingers from her throat and focused on his exposed body, then gathered every last ounce of strength to swing her lower half upwards and hook her leg around his outstretched arm and the other around his shoulder. She tightened her own grip, securing herself from falling if he released her to save himself before unsheathing her vibroblade.

It felt like defying gravity itself, but against the strain and pull of her awkward position Kress lobbed her sword upwards between the opening of his armor where forearm met bicep in a slashing motion. It took to cloth and flesh, then to bone, and with all her might she severed the arm and hand that strangled her, allowing her upper body to fall while her legs hung her from his neck and shoulders. She arched her back, reversed her grip on the blade, and sunk it into the unarmored inner thigh before twisting the handle. His howling could be heard from all around as Kressara reached over her upside down head to press a palm against the rock, releasing his shoulders and flipping herself onto the ground with her back to the cliffside.

She hacked for air, unable to continue the wild grapple of life and death. It was all she had left in her (for the moment) to snatch her blade from his thigh and to cast herself backwards off the edge. Solid ground fled her boots and the world rushed past her. When next her toes touched the ground, it was an unstable gravel hillside that toppled her and rolled the young sith down into the trenches not far from Jacobi. Mud caked the tails of her duster and once again she was cast down hard against the ground. That made three times today.

Above them, the badly wounded beast of a Mandolorian cursed and held his bleeding arm, vowing to tear Kressara limb from limb if it was the last thing he ever did. She only choked on her own bruised trachea and smiled, smiled wide.

Kressara lifted her trembling hand to reveal a pin pulled free from it’s grenade, an explosive still strapped securely to the munitions belt of her attacker. He went silent, reached for his own belt buckle, and suddenly there was a flash of light bright enough to blind even the most goodie two shoe Jedi. Several flash grenades went off at once from the hilltop and Kressara couldn’t stop the horse laughter that shook her head to toe. Breathing was still difficult with her newly damaged throat, but regardless Kressara called out,

“Did you see that, Mr. Wylcott?!”

[Jacobi Wylcott]

As he began to move through the trenches closer to their ultimate goal his ear caught the distinctive sound of a kinetic impact in the mud. He shuffled on one foot, spun on the heel and turned to face - he lowered his pistol from aiming at the occurrence - it was a very muddy and sore looking Kressara. Instantly he snapped up his blaster pistol to aim from her direction of travel where he spotted a wounded man clutching his forearm only to be immolate by a bright detonation. Jacobi flinched away in surprise but was otherwise unharmed and he checked back on the Crow with a smirk. “Nice souvenir. He won’t be needing it anymore.”

The trudge through the trenches took them a winding trail in which their remaining Ordo compatriots were either wounded or slain - only Kressara and Jacobi made it to the final destination and they were not much further taken to hardship to this point. The bunker was a concrete affair with a mounted automatic E-web facing outside. Inside there could be just the gunner or an entire crew - or as Jacobi suspected, the command structure of this sector of the battlefield.

Currently he and Kressara were hunkered down behind a low set of sandbags, they would have to charge the bunker uphill and through razor wire. This would not be easy. Even so, he never showed the odds on his face through the caked mud. “We are here.” He stated bluntly, “Inside should be the head of the snake, we need to get in there and cut it off.”

As he spoke he ejected his blaster’s power pack and slid a fresh one into the slide and primed it - he holstered the pistol and sheathed his knife to bring his rifle off the sling. Also he reached down and plucked two fragmentation grenades from his belt. He peaked up around the sandbags and viewed the left and right of the bunker, edged by harsh terrain in which if they attempted to traverse they would be cut to pieces by automatic fire. It seemed if they wanted to get to the bunker they were going through the bunker. He seriously wasn’t relishing this moment. Tactically it was not sound to charge with only two people straight into the kill zone of an E-web of all things.

But he would not be deterred of his goal.

The information they’d glean from the bowels of that bunker could swing the war in favor of Ordo and in turn gain the Sith a valuable ally. It was worth the risk. There was another reason he was willing to charge headlong into this danger - within the deep of the bunker he would uncover the logs of the Harbinger - an ancient Sith Warship that had crashed somewhere here in the Mandalorian Sector many millenia ago. Within the ship there were answers he needed to know of - the Sith would also benefit from these answers as well. While he hadn’t briefed any of his allies on this information he had his reasons. You don’t tease predators with treats unless you can actually deliver them.

He looked to Kressara, “One last push to the finish line?”

He never waited for her to respond - he leapt from cover, his feet churning in the slop, legs like pistons to power him ever onward. His rifle barked fire to stitch the bunker’s firing slit in hopes to suppress his foes and hopefully to take one with a stray shot - he made it about ten or so impressive steps before his surprise attack settled in and the Bralor inside that bunker managed to regain their focus.

Then the return fire came.

[Kressara Thryn]

Souvenir indeed! Kressara had every intention of holding onto the pin for later storytelling. Her master would be proud of her. So, they were to press onward. The toppled sith rose to her feet and showed off the resilience of her youth, though even she wouldn’t last forever. Their next flight through the gory fray was taxing enough to dwindle their numbers and wear the both of them down, but finally the pair arrived at the doorstep of the gauntlet. Logically, this made absolutely no sense. Kressara saw their odds. They had a snowflake’s chance in an inferno of reaching the interior of that bunker alive, but Jacobi was dead set. With or without her, he would have taken those odds. So naturally, Kressara followed.

Nodding as a reply he did not wait to receive, Kressara switched her sword hand and drew an until recently unused blaster pistol from her belt, then took a deep breath. The mad mandalorian dashed into the open first and then followed his last remaining companion closely behind him. She was careful to use him as cover while he galavanted guns blazing, but when Jacobi’s surprise attack resulted in return fire his backup had little choice but to break from position.

Mud was slung up with the momentum of her redirection when the young blood took off to the far right to lessen their chances of both being gunned down. Two targets, half the odds. One target, they both die. It was a gamblers worst nightmare, but Kressara was never one to turn down a game of chance. Rapid shots scorched the air from her pistol, taking down one of the enemy gunmen, but soon the bullets came raining her way. Kress dove into the mudd and razor wire onto her stomach to minimize their target, lifted her gun, and unloaded the cartridge in their direction to give Jacobi a chance at reaching them. The sharp metallic threading sliced through the thinner places of her clothing and cut the flesh while bolts zoomed over her head. If Jacobi couldn’t eliminate their forces in one fell swoop, they would surely be gunned down.