The Battle of Naboo: The Grassy Plains

[Livgardist]

Jaron, finished with the radio, listened as the squad leader of the stormtroopers spoke, all the while bringing out his first aid kit and opening it. He tore open a pack of disinfection wipes, and used two to clean the bloody mess on the right side of his forehead. It stung, and he gritted his teeth as his vision flickered from the pain, but, shaking his head, he slapped a kolto patch on it, and a moment later, replied to the sergeant;

"Nice to meet you, Sergeant Cristo." He thought for a moment, and then continued; "If everything goes as planned, we should have a majority of the rebels encircled so we can crush them and finally secure the assault zone. Stand by." He stood up and peered over the edge of their improvised trench. Out on the battlefield, the pincer movement was coming full circle (pun intended), as it ensnared rebel forces behind enemy lines, in a white river of bloodthirsty stormtroopers. The speeders seemed to escape, before one of them was suddenly cut down by a man with a lightsaber (a Sith, Jaron assumed. So they were here after all...), but at least half of the enemy forces had managed to escape the pincer movement and were rapidly making way for the woods.

Suddenly, a small group of rebels came up to the trench from behind them. It took them by surprise, but the 501st stormtroopers quickly handled the situation, and Jaron didn't even have to raise his weapon. As the rebels were dispatched, others approached, but were quickly taken out by the stormtrooper and merc fire combined. Jaron opened his mouth to continue by issuing suggested orders, when his radio operator spoke;

"Sir. Radio." Jaron took and pressed the microphone to the side of his face, listening in on the statically fractured message that followed;

"Attention Battlegroup Hydra. This is 501st Major Ru-zhhztbt-cryer. I ..xkkzzt-uming command of the fleet, orders are -bbztrtk-ows. Reform the fl-kkzttt, prote-bbrzt-he Shivering Serpent. Reform the fle-zzdghhtt- I say again, reform"

He gritted his teeth.
"Shit. The reception is for shit here." He muttered. "Taylor, set up the extended antenna. Quickly!" With veteran hands, the merc named Taylor quickly unscrewed the antenna from his backpack radio, and replaced it with a much longer one, which stuck up quite a bit out of the trench. The next message that came through was on the dedicated troop channel of the 501st, and much clearer, and Jaron listened intently with gritted teeth, filtering out the background noise of explosions, blaster fire and the screams of maimed and dying men, enemies and friends alike. To others this was Hell. To Jaron, it was what he was born to do.

"Attention all Troopers. Maintain attack pace, secure LZ. Repeat, maintain attack pace, secure LZ. Second wave inbound, ETA 1-5 minutes. Repeat, second wave inbound, ETA 1-5 minutes. Sunray-Actual, out"

Jaron exhaled in a relieved sigh. He had heard of Major Scryer as a reliable officer with a good head on his shoulers; the kind of man that his troops could rely on in battle. If he said reinforcements were on the way, then they were good, and the current fubar would be resolved rather quickly. Finally, the line of communication to command, too, was clear, which had been part of the reason why the operation so far had been slightly halted.

Jaron looked to the stormtrooper sergeant, and said;
"Sergeant, did you copy that? Major Scryer is readying reinforcements. ETA five minutes, max. We are ordered to maintain attack pace, and secure the assault zone. Stand by." He pressed the mic once again to his face, and as he pushed in the transmission button, spoke;

"Sunray-Actual, this is Wild Goose Ten. Sitrep follows; We have half the enemy forces encircled by way of pincer maneuver. A tentative perimeter around the LZ has been established by trenches and armored vehicles. We are in the process of re-securing the outer landing zones from rebel control. However, I cannot make contact with Captain Heath who is tasked with leading ground ops. In addition, we are taking heavy casualties from opposing air forces. We need air support to establish air superiority ASAP. Over."

He pressed the microphone between his face and shoulder as he grasped his assault rifle, tilted it to the left to check on the expulsion port where spent ammo casings came out. It was closed, indicating that he still had ammunition left in his magazine. As he removed it, he checked it, returned it to one of his tactical ballistic vest's ammo pockets, and replaced it with a fully loaded clip.

 

[Galavant]

Within the grasp of the pincer, things were not going well for the RSF, and the Rebels.

The pincer movement had forced them into a circular position, trying to defend on all sides, and it was an impossible task for the out-manned, and out-gunned force to accomplish. Some of the faster speeders within the group were able to break out where the pincer had met, but was still thinner than the other sections of the Imperial line. But not many, and on the open plain, the entrapped Rebels were target practice for any air support the Imperials had. Numerous infantry units were stuck, taking cover behind wrecked speeders and tanks that had fallen either when they'd first struck, or more recently as the Imperials tightened around them.

The only notable opposition from the circle came from four Steadfast tanks, on the side of the circle closest to the forested area, trying to smash the end of the pincer so the others could get away. A number of Champions meanwhile darted around the edges of the circle, trying to create confusion and keep the Imperials from pressing inwards, while the Flash Speeders, and Gians in the group were mostly stationary, providing cover for the infantry. Most of them were already destroyed, but the poor men and women trapped on the plain had little other choice for cover that weren't wreckages not burning.

The force that had escaped the pincer meanwhile, didn't advance into the forest too far. Instead they stayed on the edge, attempting to lend their firepower to the those trapped, in order to break the end of the pincer, and let them escape. Resherani herself had jumped out of the speeder, and was now taking cover behind a particularly thick tree, shooting at any Imperials she could see with her blaster rifle. None of the heavier vehicles had made it back to the tree line, just Flash Speeders, and Gians which lent their limited firepower to the effort to free the ensnared Rebels.

Resherani cursed as she reloaded her rifle. Things had gone from not too terribly bad, to pretty bad, to kriffing awful in the space of minutes. The RSF and Rebels weren't equipped to fight a force this big without the air support the cruiser had provided, which was becoming painfully clear. As each minute passed, the Imperials only gained in strength, while the forces on the Naboo side staggered back and tried to keep from falling apart altogether.

Taking aim again, she wondered where exactly she'd parked her ship. All the fighting in the field had gotten her turned around and she had no idea where it was, but suddenly it seemed like a very good idea to start trying to vacate the area. Especially if the Imperials broke the circle, and started heading into the forest.

 

[Cortan]

"They're scarcely slowing down..." Donkur muttered, watching as the Imperial forces were either entrenching, or moving forward to make new trenches. He had to unfortunately give them credit - the shock of the Quasar's bombardments had lost its psychological impact, leaving only the actual devastation of its power. But the former was just as important as the latter, as that brought forth imperfections and mistakes in the Imperial line. Without it, they were only knocking back an unstoppable force, rather than halting it with an immovable object.
<--Commander, this is Quasar. Enemy reinforcements are engaging. We're being hit by something that we can't pick up on our sensors.--> The cruiser called from above, and indeed, even he could hear as, somewhere above, missiles were exploding. His mind raced back, and soon enough knew their foe.

"Must be a Haranov gunship. Damned things were always a pain. Their stealth models were practically invisible to sensors, which in most extraterrestrial engagements made them impossible to find, given the scale involved." Donkur wasn't about to take someone off their desks, and nor would he ask that the men still struggling to find safe places to fortify take a moment of their time. Instead, he grabbed a nearby set of macrobinoculars, and strode to the nearest exit.
"If you could find them though... Well, their shields were lacking and their armour thin - only way to make room for all that stealth nonsense. And well, at this range..." Donkur brought the scope to his face, gazing upwards. There, in the sky above, was the bird like vessel. He wondered if her captain knew the difference between a stealth finish, and a true cloaking device. Regardless, he had her flight path.
"Quasar, I'm transmitting coordinates for your target. Use the ion gun, and show her what for."
<--Copy that.--> Came the reply, as the ageing Vor stepped back inside.

---

The Quasar had been in amongst the clouds a while now, after fighters had chased her, and the gunship's barrage had threatened from afar. The Imperial advance had been relatively unhindered, and fighter squadrons left to fend for themselves. The grey arrow kept silent in its quiver, hiding and waiting.
Then two blue shots tore through the white fade, discharged from the ship's heavy ion gun. Then came volleys of red, and a quartet of missiles, aimed towards the same broad area of skyline - that in which a bird shaped ship sat. The great grey arrow that was the Quasar emerged, roaring, as smoke poured from wounds upon her hull. It bore down upon the vessel a fourth its size, keeping her well within the sights of her crew to follow, ready to turn so that they could fire their ion gun once again as the minutes passed. Her back turbolasers, unable to bring the enemy vessel into their arcs, returned to the task of raining fire on the enemies below, seeking to break the pincer, and open the path to the forest.

---

"Status update." Donkur set aside the macrobinoculars, looking to the holotable.
"Enemy reinforcements are slowly coming in, and they've almost secured their LZ. We've got reinforcements in orbit, though its hard to say where they'll touch down." Came the report, and briefly, Donkur blinked. If there had been reinforcements planned, surely he'd have heard of it...
"And the situation in orbit?" He was curious to see what was going on now...
"Imperial forces took initial casualties, but appear to be reorganising. Their effective blockade range has narrowed whilst the fleet is regathered." Came the second report, and it narrowed Donkur's gaze.

"Order our forces to fall back into the forest and swamp, and regroup whilst the Imperials have to account for their heavy armour. Inform fleet remnants that if they want to make a break for it, they have clearance, but to go one at time. If the jaws snap shut, we won't let them have a full meal." And his word was relayed, though as he gazed at the hologram, he could only ponder at how long the Quasar would last up there, and he could see a squadron of enemy fighters coming around...

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Jahairal had noticed the rebels falling back through the woods, seeking cover in the wake of the empires heavy artillery and entrenchment tactics. It was good, in his opinion, and hopefully a sign that they may be able to hold out longer. The pincer maneuver saw an end to that thought, himself not realizing what the empire was doing due to the sheer size of their forces doing so, until it was far too late. The rebels left in the grassy field were surrounded, and the empire seemed to concentrate fire within, and without, firing into the trees as the rebels tried to pepper the encircling line of imperials as they closed in around the naboo and rebel forces.

For his part, Jahairal did all he could to help those within. He fired shot after shot at the enemy forces, anyone who could see who was leading the troops as he was forced to move closer and closer towards the edge of the treeline for better shots. One of his bullets even found their mark against a Imperial tank, whose operate had apparently peaked his head out to better line up a shot. He had felt proud of that shot, and was about to line up another when the sense of danger filled his awareness once again. Jahairal ran from the tree, but was too late as the trunk exploded out from a massive shot, the tank he'd fired at apparently taking aim at the treeline he'd been using as cover and blowing it, and himself away.

The kaleesh blinked as his ears rang, laying down as he shock his head to recover. Jahairal looked around his surroundings, chard pieces of bark and splintered wood were scattered around him, the trees canopy pointed towards the battlefield, shielding him from view with its foliage. He slowly began to regain his senses, head pounding as he searched for his rifle, trying to move but getting stuck as his shoulder strap was snagged on something. He looked down and saw half of his outland attached to the strap, the other half now stuck under the heavy tree.

"W-where is it...?" Jahairal mumbled as he reached down, feeling at his waist until he grasped the hilt of his sword. He drew the vibrosword, and with a single cut was free of the now useless slugthrower, staring at it for a moment. It had been his oldest weapon, one his father had used long ago. It was one of the last possessions he had to remember him by, and now it lay smashed beneath a tree trunk on this battlefield, no hope of being fixed even if this weren't the middle of a battlefield.

Jahairal worked to stand, head still fuzzy from the blast when he felt someone behind him, every sense in his mind screaming to watch out as he reached to draw his DL-18 blaster pistol from its holster and spun around, seeing only the vaguest outlines of white as he fired two shots. The stormtroopers dropped down, one with a headshot as the other dropped low and aimed his rifle at the force sniper. Jahairal ran full sprint with the force, closing the distance quickly as he lunged for the neck with his vibrosword.

He flicked the blood from his blade as he ducked low behind the fallen trees branches, holstering his pistol and looking towards the two bodies and giving a silent prayer for both their souls before he looked around the area. He needed a weapon, something he could use take out the imperials. He glanced behind him, seeing both soldiers had wielded what looked to be carbines. The battlefield was littered with bodies and weapons, and jahairal spotted what looked to be a sutible weapon just 3 meters away, a distance into the field. Jahairal closed his eyes, calming himself and bringing his mind back to where it needed to be, where he could focus his mind, and direct his instincts to helping him pull this off. After a good 10 seconds, his eyes snapped open as jahairal ran out from the cover of the trees, running towards the discarded A-560 Blaster Rifle.

Some stormtroopers nearby turned to look in his direction, and jahairal blocked that information out as he focused on his target and his goal. A single trooper had been nearby, and jahairal brought his vibrosword to bear as he slashed through the troopers helmet, right across the visor. He bent down and scooped up the blaster rifle, skidding to a stop as he turned around and ran back for the cover of the trees. Shots were fired at him, he ducked and pitched himself one way and another, trusting the force as he evaded the shots. A second later he broke through the cover of the fallen tree, and kept running, wanting to put some distance between himself and the gunfire before he got ready to resume his sniping mission.

 

[Andrewza]

The gunnery officer looked up from his screen. "Auto loaders ready to fire." A nod from wood was all it took. "Fire!" 2 proton torpedoes again escorted by turbo laser fire raced towards there target.

As the crew got ready for a second barrage alarms sounded. The ships computor automatically showed the biggest threat on the main screen. In this case it was the ion shots. They just missed the whisper. In fact many systems flickered on and of as it passed. "There fireing blind?" Came a question from the crew. It was anserwed when the sky's lit up from the wild shooting. But then the Quasar came in to view. "They won't be flying blind any more, drop us over the Forrest. They won't risk friendly fire. And some one get hold of the fleet"


It must of been a sight as the sleek bird like gunship burst out the clouds. Turbolasers firing in to the woods followed by the large blobs of a proton torpedoes. But the true weapon was unseen. A broadcast.

"This is the whisper. We are under attack. Landing zone is covered by a hostile cruiser. I repeat. Enemy as control of the skies."

 

[z234]

Running through the battlefield, Teran had a sense of both self-preservation and joy. He felt safer than he had when he first entered the battle, more in control of himself. This was what it was all about. The thrill of battle, adrenaline mixed with exitement. Teran swung his saber as more rebels started firing at him, he could even manage to ricochet a few shots back at them, hitting one in the leg. He turned to his right, retreating within the ranks of the Imperial forces a little more. He didn't want to get too far into enemy lines, he was just an Acolyte after all. Gunships flew overhead, several looming star destroyers orbiting the planet blaster shots raced through the air, turbolasers firing shot after shot towards the rebels.

Swiftly turning to his right, Teran saw a group of mercenaries and Stormtroopers fighting with another squad of Rebels. Most of them were fighting hand to hand, blasters strewn across the floor. The trooper nearest to his was beating down a rebel with his fists, making seemingly short work of his opponent. Diving into the trench, Teran swung his orange bladed saber at the rebels, striking them down with stabs and swings at their chest. He managed to take down a good four of them, putting his saber in it's holster before turning around and peering over the trench. He was trapped here by gunfire for now, but he could continue the fight soon.

 

[Livgardist]

Theme​

The battle was raging on.

People were dying by the dozen. People were screaming as medics carried out battlefield operations on them to save their lives. There were areas of the Grassy Plains where the grass was slick, and crimson, with large amounts of blood. Explosions, the groan of metal, rattle of machine guns and the hollow, sharp sound of blaster fire shredded any traces of serenity that had once ruled over Naboo. While the rebels were fighting for their lives as the pincer of stormtroopers strengthened its formation, a second wave of Imperial forces arrived to the landing zones and began to unload troopers and heavy materiel. Reinforcements arrived for the air forces as well, to try and gain air superiority against the tenacious rebel air forces. Grenades, rockets, and blaster fire ripped apart friend and foe on the ground, causing untold suffering in both ranks.

It was hell.

Jaron was crouching at the edge of the foxhole, firing short bursts against a fraction of rebel forces when one of his mercenaries was thrown back by a stray round. Jaron crouched, and gritted his teeth when he saw blood pump out through a wound in the man's chest. He pressed his hands hard against it as he shouted from the bottom of his lungs; "Medic!" The man screamed and cried as he twisted and turned in agony, blood seeping out of his mouth as well as pouring out of the gaping chest wound. A medic ran up to them and quickly injected the man with a shot of sedatives. Soon, the soldier was still, and the medic began the feeble hopes of saving his life.

"Shit." Jaron tried to wipe some sweat out of his face with his hand, but it only left a smeared trail of blood that mixed with the camouflage paint he had covered his skin with. Realizing that any hope of receiving assistance from Major Scryer would be delayed by the combat operations in space - no doubt the Major was busy trying to sort out another shitstorm caused by arrogant or incompetent Imperials. He turned and called out to the radio operator: "Give me the mic! Wherever Captain Heath is, we can't afford to wait for him to un**** himself. This has got to end." He grabbed the mic, and once again began to speak into it; "Wild Goose Hotel, this is Wild Goose Ten. Do you copy?"

"Wild Goose Ten, this is Wild Goose Hotel. I copy loud and clear. Over!"

"Wild Goose Hotel, I need air-to-ground support ASAP." Jaron pulled out a map of the terrain from his leg pocket. There were blood stains on it as he spread it out in the dirt, and let a finger trace along it. "I need you to put down a bomb carpet over sectors 45, 46, 47, and 48." A bullet slammed against the edge of the foxhole, and whistled past Jaron's head. He didn't seem to notice it. "Repeat and confirm. Over!"

"Wild Goose Ten, can do! Air-to-ground support will arrive ETA two minutes. Fire support will be put down over sectors 45 through 48. We'll light those bastards up! Over."

"That's affirmative. Out." Jaron wasn't finished, however. He continued on the radio: "All units, listen up! 2nd through 5th need to maintain pressure on the besieged rebel forces. Don't let the pressure off for even a second. 6th through 10th, your job is to face against the secondary opfor currently positioned by the treeline. In two minutes, the Imperial air forces will burn that forest to ashes, and everything inside of it as well. Once the bombing lets up, you need to attack. Pour everything you have onto them - armor, infantry, everything. Make note that this does not apply to the forces maintaining pressure on the besieged rebel force. This is Wild Goose Ten, out."

Jaron let go of the radio, drank some water from his canteen, tossed it aside as it was empty, and looked to the stormtroopers he shared a foxhole with.
"We've got to get over there." He said, then. "We need to move."

As he got up out of the foxhole, which was now relatively undisturbed by enemy forces who were busy trying to relieve their besieged comrades, he looked up into the sky by the sound of roaring aircrafts. Over by the besieged circle, and in the treelines, many of the rebels and the stormtroopers also looked up, as a division of no less than twelve TIE bombers made an appearance on the battlefield. They roared across the sky escorted by at least twenty TIE fighters, as they approached the forest lines from the left, following them up towards zones 45 through 48. As they reached the first zone, the first few bombers dropped their deadly cargo.

A macabre and horrifying scenario took place in front of the eyes of rebels and soldiers alike, then, as hundreds of kilos of explosives detonated. To the eye, it looked as if the forest itself suddenly burst into violent flames, as bomber after bomber dropped its devastating payload of destruction. The air was ripped apart by the shredding, tearing sound of the explosions, before the TIE bombers turned tail, and returned from whence they came. The TIE fighters, their escort mission finished, broke off, and instead began to seek out and destroy the rebel fighters in an effort to achieve the so sought after air superiority.

For a couple of seconds that seemed like an hour, there was a deadly silence across the battlefield. It was as if every single person had stopped their fighting to just stare in awe at the event that had taken place. But then, the battle broke out once more with renewed fury, as a majority of the stormtrooper front line forces began to advance towards the immolated forest edges. Like a giant sea of death, they swarmed around the besieged rebels, barely paying them any attention, as they rushed towards their new objective, escorted by walkers, tanks, and armored personnel carriers.

Jaron waved his hand to the stormtroopers and mercs, and said;
"We need to move."

He started into a run, joining with the sea of storming stormtroopers.

 

[Minuteman75]

Ever so slowly the tide was turning in the Empire's favor. On one hand Cristo hated the idea of him aiding the Imperium in enslaving another planet to its corrupted ways. Yet on the other he was proud that most of his squad were still alive and performing at their best. They even fought off a small rebel counterattack at their position and with timely assistance of a Sith youth. As much he secretly despised the Sith Order for their hold over the Empire, Cristo was at least grateful for this intervention.

Recruit Varsin was showing he knew more than how to shoot when proposing to Corporal Nefertari how to form a circle to increase their defense. Nodding in approval to the recruit, the sergeant then turn his attnetion toward Jaron's new chat on the radio. Soon from the comms, came the voice of Major Scryer ordering the ground forces continue the attack on the rebels. Two minutes later TIR bombers unleashed a hellstorm on the rebels elements at the forest's edge. With a clear objective now, Morrell replied to Jaron.

"I got the message contractor. Alright troopers you heard our major let's move out. For the Corps!"

Upon command Cristo's squad went over the top of their foxholes and charged ahead. Sprinting as fast they could into the center of the devasted plains. They quickly came alongside other stormtroopers, mercs, and tanks in the midst of the charge. Behind them Imperial walkers still functioning provided fire support for their attack. The rebel/Naboo forces still trapped by the invaders struggle on bravely in spite of what's happening. Sniper shots and repeating blasters started to thinning the ranks of the attacking Imperials.

Even so the attackers pressed on, shooting at the any of their foes within range. Just as they were about to collide just yards away, salvos of turoslasers rain down like divine judgment once again. Cristo who had been leading ahead of his squad was tossed backward twenty feet up into the air by the force of one such blast. For the moment he was still flying, Cristo looked up and saw the Naboo's sun shining brightly regardless of the bloodshed that occurring on the ground and in sky. Morrell briefly felt comfort by the sight until gravity took him crashing down to the soil.

On impact violent pain spiked through most of his body, causing him to cried out in complete agony. Soon after Cristo' vision started to fade away as he laid on the battered ground. Then finally he slipped into unconsciousness and the battle raged on without him.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Jahairal had regrouped with a few other rebels as he got used to firing the A-560 Blaster Rifle, some of his shots going over due to how different the mechanics worked, so used to having to account for his bullets arcs that it made firing a weapon with no trajectory arc to speak of difficult. The more he fought, however, the more he thought that they might hold this offensive. That they might actually manage to keep to the forest and hold the line against the imperials, given their air support.

But then he heard it, the loud screeching of the tie fighters flying low, sounding like some wounded animal wailing as they flew through. He felt it before it even happened, a strong sense of fear that spiked throughout the entire area and came at him from all sides like a sudden and cold gust of wind. The flash of light as bombs went off, and entire trees and anyone nearby them were burned to a crisp in seconds if unlucky enough to be underneath. Others were blown away by the blasts, fire quick behind them from the explosions, and a lucky few were far away enough to continue to run from the growing fire and death.

Jahairal looked behind him towards the other rebels, who seemed frozen in panic and now, like him, in mortal danger. He looked around desperately, the spikes of death and pain and fear growing around him as he searched for some means of escape. Then he saw it, one of the bombs dropping meters ahead of him, its descent blocked by the tree he was standing behind for cover.

"Run..." He said to them, before the blinding flash went off, the trees thick base and trunk outlined for the imperial knight, as all the memories he associated with fire and burning came rushing into his mind. "RUUUUUNNNNNNNNN!!!!" Jahairal screamed and threw forth his arms, relying solely on pure survival instincts to take hold as he let loose a roar, drowned out by the thunderous boom o the explosion as a single defiant thought rang through his mind; You will not have them..

The heat from the explosion cascaded forth in the blink of an eye, fire rolling forth as it plowed into the tree, kinetic energy from the blast knocked it back and uprooting it, as fired served to weaken whatever else held it up. But as the flames hit the trunk, they seemed to stop, fire licking the sides but being blocked by an unseen force. Jahairal gritted his teeth and his feet dug into the rapidly heating earth, putting all he had into the push as the front of the tree broke apart, too weak to stand up to the short impact the front sustained. And just like that, it was done, the explosion settling into a forest fire, the tree now half burned to a cinder, and half untouched, a wide arching V pattern burned into the ground where it stood, and Jahairal sinking to his knees, gasping for air and nearly passing out from the force push he'd just unleashed.

Three...he'd saved three rebels, out of so many others. The thought couldn't help but snake its way into his head as they came and helped him back to his feet, feeling something as he wrapped his arm around one. It was hope. Not a lot of it, barely any if he were honest. But it was hope nonetheless, something he'd helped to give. The kaleesh journeyed with them away from the front lines, as quickly as they were able as the shoved the dark thoughts away from his mind. He'd stood up, and helped. His powers had saved lives, instead of end them. And it was a feeling that jahairal kept in his mind as he began to regain his strength, holding the blaster rifle close to his grasp as he was soon back to supproting his own weight, and running from the imperial force he heard pursue.

 

[Branok]

The battle has been going on for a while now, Coren has lost track of time. It felt like it has been months he has been sitting in this foxhole fighting the enemy. His armor, which was a bright white at the start of this battle, was now covered in mud, dirt, and blood. It was a complete change to his experience on board the Star Destroyer "Wanderlust".

Coren still imagining the sight of that man he stabbed fresh in his mind as more rebels had arrived near the foxhole when a man landed in with them. The sound of a crack and a orange lightsaber soon followed. Coren watched as the rebels were taken down swiftly by the man. Coren sent him a nod of thanks for the aid he just gave. Then out of his peripheral he saw the contractor get off the radio and he gave some orders. The squads leader then soon yelled with pride that they were going to press the attack and force the rebels back and work towards victory.

Watching as the squad started to get out of the foxhole Coren followed suit. While sprinting along with his comrades, their valiant sergeant in the lead Coren swapped out a powerpack to ensure he had a fresh clip for the oncoming assault. In the sky he caught a glimpse of the TIE Bombers as they rained down on the enemies in the tree line. The smell of battle got to Coren finally as he smelt the smoldering bodies and burning grass and wood and destroyed equipment. Closing his eyes and shaking his head he started to prepare himself mentally for the oncoming fight.

As they grew closer a turbolaser blast landed in front of the squad, catching several troopers in the front and blasting them to bits. Coren felt the blast as he was knocked down to his knees. He kept moving forward as best as he could, but he realized he couldn't hear. Shell shocked Coren fell to one knee and looked around, he saw his sergeant laying on the ground not moving a muscle. Turning his head he watched as more troopers continued their path into the enemies lines. Looking back he saw the Corporal move to the sergeant and start trying to help him.

As his hearing slowly returned, with the sound of the battle coming in first he heard "Medic! We need a Medic!" Staying low Coren moved to his sergeants position. "Hey, you two!" Coren said quickly pointing to two squad mates. "Tend to the sergeant." He said with an authoritative demeanor. "Call a medic and transportation, get the sergeant out of here! The rest of you lets go we need to keep moving if we are going to make any ground on this battle." He said standing up. Starting slowly Coren moved toward the battle bringing his blaster up, pointing toward his targets. Slowly building into a sprint Coren let out a warcry as loud as he could, whether it was actually heard or just on the inside of his head he wasn't sure but he knew he wasn't going to lose this battle.

 

[Galavant]

Theme​

Running, running, running, running, running...

Resherani had stopped caring what direction it was she was running towards, as long as it was away from the fire. Things were definitely not going well at this point. The tide had shifted entirely against the RSF and their friends, as Rebel air support was replaced by Imperial.

Running, running, running, running, running...

The forest was on fire immediately where the Imperial bombers had dropped their ordinance. It was incredibly hot, hard to breath, and she was sure she'd been singed at least a little. That was better off than most of the forces that had been caught closer to the center of the run however. The smell of burning trees intertwined with that of burning people, giving off an odor of overcooked pork being roasted on an open flame. It was enough to make her never want to eat pork, ever again.

Running, running, running, running, running...

About the only upside (or not incredibly suck ass side) was that Naboo was a very, very wet planet. Lots of swamps, bogs, heck even the planet's core was water. So it wasn't hard to find a body of water in the forest to throw oneself into. A sane person might think, and actually check if they were on fire before doing so, but no one had every accused Resherani of being particularly sane.

Pulling herself up out of the water that was probably unsafe for drinking, she took a quick stock of what she still had.

Limbs? Check
Fingers? Check
Hair? Check
Blaster Rifle? Not check
Knowledge of where she was? Also not check

There were...trees. Which wasn't particularly helpful information in a forest.

She knew she was some distance from the fire, and didn't see anybody else around. She was shaken, but fairly certain that it wouldn't be staying that way for long. Drenched, she grabbed her blaster pistol with its wicked blades with her right hand, and her axe with her left, and made her the nearest tree big enough to hide behind.

 

[z234]

It burned. It all burned. Teran was stood above the trench, watching the imperial fighters bomb the pitiful rebel defense. The Imperium was pushing them back now that they had dwindling air support, the rebel forces moving back into the forest slowly. The young Sith found this magnificent. The inevitable horrors of war were unknown to him and this was brilliant. But soon, Teran's feeling of joy was stamped on once again. As this part of the battlefield started to calm down, he noticed the death. Stormtroopers, rebels, mercenaries, all of them. Many had died, many more on the brink of death. Teran had seen this before, but for some reason this made his skin crawl. It had been a hellish battle so far, maybe not fit him but for those around him. All the more reason to make sure the rebels were crushed.

Teran began moving up with the rest of the Imperial forces, getting ready for another possible situation where he came under fire, but also ready to get the hell home. Looking up at the sky, imperial dropships had started taking the wounded and dying from the rear of the imperials forces, meaning that it was now his duty to move up in order to let the rescue operation take place.

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron kept moving forward, stopping only to provide cover fire for his fellow mercs. When Sergeant Cristo was knocked unconscious, he stopped, but seeing as other stormtroopers quickly got him taken care of, he pushed on. As he came closer to the besieged area, he slowed into a halt. Blaster fire began to thin out, and anyone not in the immediate siege area was now pretty safe from enemy attacks - an iron wall of stormtroopers and armor had encircled the besieged rebels, and those that had made it to safety in the forest edge had been bombed to oblivion by Jaron's called in air support.

The battle was quickly coming to an end with the rebel air forces being shot down or pushed back by the Imperial air reinforcements. Jaron felt coagulated blood on the side of his head, and a tickling feeling as rivers of sweat poured down his face, thinning out the camouflage paint and giving him a haggard appearance. Meanwhile, the wind carried the smoke from the burning forest out onto the battlefield - and with it, the stomach turning smell of burnt and cooked flesh. Though he had fought in war since he was a mere teenager, the sickening, sweet smell still made him gag.

He walked up to one of the tanks that made up the siege ring, and looked up at one of the tank crew;

"Get me a speaker. Quickly." He gestured for a radio operator to come up to him as well, and grabbed the mic from the man's backpack, speaking into it; "This is Wild Goose Ten to all air and ground units. Cease fire, effective immediately. Cease fire." The order came as a surprise to most, but slowly, the rattling barrage of blaster fire seemed to die down, until gradual silence made its way across the battlefield. The rebels, taken aback by this unusual event, also slowly ceased their fire. Jaron then looked up to the tank crewman, who handed him a microphone connected to the tank's speakers.

He grabbed it, and pressed the button as he spoke;
"Members of the opposition forces. I am Jaron Nasif, private contractor with the Imperial forces. Your comrades in the forest have been beaten, and you have no hope of escape. This can only end in one of two ways, and I ask that you do not throw away your lives needlessly today. Lay down your weapons and surrender, and you have my word that your lives will be spared. You will be taken as prisoners of war, and you will be treated fairly. I don't want any more pointless deaths of soldiers on either side today. So I ask you again. Just lay down your weapons, and surrender. You have ten minutes."

He tossed the microphone back to the tank driver. Then, he searched his pockets, found a cigarette, and lit it. A stormtrooper sergeant looked at him curiously, and asked:

"Do you think it will work?" Jaron shrugged, exhaling some smoke.

"I hope so." He said. "Enough blood has been spilt here today."

"But they're rebels!" The man objected. Jaron seemed to think about his reply for a long moment, before replying.

"It's that sort of thinking that caused these people to resist the Imperium so viciously in the first place. You think they are bandits and terrorists, but they're brave, honorable soldiers, just like yourself. I'm a soldier too. My job is to achieve victory, not needless death. If I can do that without sacrificing these people - or risk the lives of my own any further - then isn't it my duty to do so?" He exhaled again and threw a glance at his wristwatch.

Eight minutes left.

"Wild Goose Ten here. When the time is up... Let loose everything you've got. Out." He said over the radio.

He prayed that it wouldn't have to come to that.

 

[Galavant]

The Rebel fire had slacked off for a second.

The turn of events was frankly astonishing.

The Imperials had stopped firing entirely.

The Rebels on the other hand had very little reason to care why they had stopped, and so after about a second of astonishment they started firing again. This time on targets that weren't for, whatever reason, firing back. If the person in charge of the Imperial Forces thought this was going to end with a surrender or anything resembling it, they were either stupid, incredibly naive, or incredibly idealistic.

Probably all three at once.

The Empire had proven time and time again how well it treated people in general. Usually in very public, and obvious ways. They'd turned one of their former allies to glass, and in an announcement after that the Empress had executed prisoners in a most horrific manner. And the most recent broadcast the woman had given also said that surrender was a very, very, very bad idea.

The embattled forces in the circle took no notice of the man's words. Indeed most of them couldn't even hear him on his speaker, over the sounds of their guns opening fire again. They didn't wait for him to finish his first sentence before they started opening fire on every Imperial their guns could reach, as quickly as possible. The Empire might have stopped shooting, and they had every intention of taking full advantage of the momentary distraction. The Imperials would no doubt start returning fire soon, but the initiative and the ability to create confusion was in the Rebels hands for at least a brief moment.

They might not break out, they might all be killed, but it was painfully obvious to anyone who had access to the Holonet that they were all just as likely to be killed as prisoners anyway. Not to mention what would happen to Naboo if it fell to the Empire. What would happen to their families if the planet fell to the Empire.

They weren't going to win, that much was obvious, but every second they delayed the Imperials was a second for forces elsewhere to possibly rally against them. It was a small hope, but it was the only hope available, and they'd all known well before going into the attack that they weren't likely to succeed in actually stopping the greatest war machine in the galaxy from gaining a landing zone.

A few would try to surrender, undoubtedly. But as a general rule the shrinking Rebel force still left didn't. The Sith had made it perfectly clear what was all too likely to happen to them if they tried, and for the men and women who'd survived as long as they had it there was no option. Better the guns than the noose.

If nothing else they'd show the Empire they're resolve.

 

[Kiro]

Aboard the Draconic, an Imperial Banehound-class Star Destroyer, Talizbeth Scryer, admiral of the 11th Imperial Fleet, watched the live feed of the ground battles that transpired on Naboo, and sighed to herself. A tea-mug was put down on the holo-projector as the Admiral rose from her chair, brushing a strand of fiery red hair behind an ear. A gloved finger depresses the button of the comm-device built into the projector.

First she gave orders to Sub-Group Acklay above the city of Theed, ordering the city's entire destruction, before turning to issue orders to Sub-Group Bantha. "Sub-Group Bantha. Take up geo-synchronous firing position above the central plains region in formation Base Delta Zero, and synch up your targeting computers to the feed from the ground forces. Spool up turbolasers and arm concussion missiles. Fire when you have targeting solutions. Bring down the Fury wings to decimate the infantry stragglers."

Within minutes of the Admiral's command, a group of three Banehounds take up a geosynchronous firing position above the plains battleground, and opened up fire. Streams of turbolaser fire began to rain down upon the battleground, along with fiery streaks of countless missiles, each one armed with concussion missiles, each one designed to be effective against captial ships. It would decidedly wreak havoc onto the course of the battle.

 

[z234]

Teran couldn't understand it. The Imperials had stopped fighting. The rebels carried on firing. This couldn't be. No. He turned to a large nearby group of stormtroopers, raising his lightsaber in the air and starting to shout. "We fight or we die!" Teran turned back to the rebel forces, leading the twenty-strong group of troops towards the front lines. They followed. Some people here might want the fighting to stop, but many also didn't. The stormtroopers began firing around him as they neared the front lines, beginning to mow down the rebel forces in front of them. Teran engaged with the enemy, striking down those that came too close. This was it, this was wa- Teran was knocked to his feet by several large explosions. Star Destroyers had started raining down hell on the rebels. He backed away as more of the Imperium's soldiers started firing. This was slowly turning back into the favour of the Sith. Magnificent.

 

[Silverface]

"Rancor Task Force, Sunray-Actual. Reinforcements inbound. Hold positions until relieved by second-wave forces, then fall back to the rally point by platoons for rearm and refit" Came the crackling order through the communications net, addressing the entire landing force, from the leading Majors down to the common Troopers. "Repeat, hold positions until relieved by second-wave forces, then fall back by platoons to rally point. Sunray-Actual, out"


It was a simple enough order as a large group of Landers made their way out of the clouds in stately fashion, landing amidst the landing zone that was slowly taking shape into something more typical of a field base, with anti-aircraft batteries being set up and prefab wall sections being welded into place by engineer droids. The ramps on the landers lowered and the crump of thousands of booted feet sounded across the grassy plains as fresh Stormtroopers deployed. It was easily three full, fresh Legions marching in formation and coming to parade rest out of range of the main battle. They were waiting for something...


With a gutteral roar, a small fleet of antique, massive A6 Juggernauts rumbled down, hatches opening for troops to embark. There was just enough of those machines to mount all three Legions, the vehicles armoured forms still sporting carbon scoring and other cosmetic damage from their time in poor care, with hastily applied Imperial markings. Stomping in from behind the juggernauts were squat, beetle-like forms of SPMA walkers, taking up position and raising their massive artillery pieces skyward.

The final nail in the coffin was the immense prefabricated base that was landed in sections by heavy cargo lifters and quickly assembled by a small army of droids swarming over it.

An open transmission clicked through on every communication's unit in the vicinity of that base, friend and foe. Up above, in orbit, Scryer knew he didn't have the authority to issue this, but he would not let it be said that the Naboo were not offered the chance to stand aside.

"This is Major Rufus Scryer to all Naboo Security Forces. I have established a primary foothold on your world. I will issue this declaration only once. Surrender and you will be treated fairly, your wounded tended to. Your planet will remain an independent world, once we have conducted an investigation into Insurrectionist forces that staged an unprovoked attack into Imperial space. Once this investigation is completed, we will leave"

"Surrender"

And with that, the three planetary assault Legions, in their rolling turbo tanks, began to move forwards.​

 

[Branok]

Still fighting Rhel watched as allies and enemies alike fell. His armor was battered, chipped and a complete mess. Rhel then heard a ceasefire order come through by the contractor Jaron. He started to talk about surrender for the rebel forces a peaceful solution to this already bloody situation. As much as Rhel enjoyed being a soldier he felt a little happy when he heard those words.

However that moment of silence was quickly broken as the rebels started to fire their weapons into the Imperials who had their weapons lowered and were in no position to fight. Rhel's best friend Kav took a blaster bolt right to the shoulder causing him to crumble. His squad mates quickly took cover behind a vehicle. "Damn rebels, attacking when our guards down. We shouldn't have offered them terms to begin with." Rhel said as he drug his best friend behind the cover. He quickly checked to make sure he wasn't to badly hurt. "Just a minor scratch Kav!" Rhel said jokingly as he drew his buddies pistol and handed it to his good arm. "Keep an out out for enemies and fire when you can." He said as he turned his attention to the rebels who were being slowly brought down by the Imperial Fire.

Rhel watched as the Sith with the Orange lightsaber took charge of a platoon and started to push from his side. Fighting along side with a ferocity that inspired many troopers around him.

In the distance Rhel saw rebels and Naboo Forces retreating when he saw turbolasers coming from the sky. Apparently the Imperial Navy had decided to start their turn in the battle by bombarding the enemy ground forces. Soon after the commlinks in their helmets used by the upper command clicked on as the word that reinforcements as well as resupply were incoming. The order was for a rotation by platoon to allow for constant fire on the enemy while the Stormtroopers could be replaced by fresher soldiers.

"Looks like we will be getting ready to swap out guys." Said Corporal Meeta with a sigh of relief. As she knelt behind cover to load her last powerpack into her weapon. Rhel peered over the wreckage and took aim at an enemy soldier that was a part of the Naboo forces. He fired his weapon connecting with the soldier. Rhel fell back behind cover and responded to his corporal. "So it would seem." He said laughing.

Soon their platoon was called back and Rhel and his comrades were on their way out of there heading toward the makeshift base the Imperium had set up to act as a forward operating base. Rhel and the platoon started on a steady run toward the base. Soon he could grab a bite to eat, more water as well as ammo. Finally reaching the base he walked up the ramp and saw as more troopers still made their way out of the base to go replace the ones fighting. Rhel tapping his helmet in support said. "Go get 'em guys and gals. Fight strong!" He said enthusiastically as they made their way into battle.

 

[Livgardist]

Jaron gritted his teeth s the rebels opened fire once more, despite his words being reinforced by Mayor Scryer, and the arrival of more stormtroopers complete with fortifications. He shook his head, and muttered under his breath; "People should know when they've been conquered." He looked to his right, where an old friend of his, a former colleague in Sector Operations Group Trident, and a long-time fellow merc named Black, shrugged, and gave him a sad smile.

"Would you, old friend? Would I?" Jaron gave a shrug and shake of his head, memories of Galiera flashing by in his mind.

"I suppose not. Yet here we are, fighting for the Imperium, the very entity that once destroyed our homeland." He shrugged. "**** it." With a mixture of sadness and anger coursing through his veins, he picked up the radio mic again, and said with determination in his voice; "All units, listen up. The rebels have made their choice, and we will honor it. You have my permission to unleash Hell upon them." He felt Black's hand on his shoulder in support, as if saying, "You tried".

What followed then was a bloodbath.

Tanks opened fire on the rebels. Grenades, both from mortar positions and from the air forces, began to rain down on them, turning the area into a flaming inferno. Blaster fire rained in from every side of the besiegement. Explosions ripped apart the tanks and other vehicles that the rebels had circled up to provide a makeshift wall. Screams of agony, rebels immolated and dancing around like fire spirits in their efforts to try and extinguish the agonizing flames that were eating them up; the smoke that slowly emerged over the battlefield brought with it the same, sickening sweet smell of burnt flesh that had followed upon Jaron's bomb carpet. And as the massacre continued, an army of stormtroopers remained still, watching in silence.

Jaron turned his eyes away from the grisly scene, and with slightly trembling hands, lit a cigarette. The taste of the bitter tobacco helped him filter out the smell of death.

His eyes drifted to the air, where the Imperial forces had nearly secured air superiority. A couple of ships were still in a dogfight. One of them, an Imperial gunship, was smoking violently as it was cruising across the sky towards the forests. It was crashing. He gritted his teeth hard, and followed it with his eyes until it disappeared out of sight. With a shake of his head, he took another breath on the cigarette, and leaned his back and head backwards against the tank behind him, his eyes slowly drifting up to the blue sky. He had survived another war. Another conflict filled with death and destruction.

"This is Skybird Zero-Six-Four. Our gunship has been shot down, but we are alive and require evacuation. We are stuck behind rebel lines in the swamps. My co-pilot has a broken leg. Request evacuation as soon as possible. Over!"

The message could barely be heard in Jaron's short-distance internal group radio, but pick it up he did. He had a look of determination on his face as he killed his cigarette.

"Sir, Command want a status report." A radio operator said then. Jaron grabbed the mic, and spoke;

"Wild Goose Ten here. The area has been pacified. All assault zones have been secured, the perimeter is clear, and the rebel forces have been destroyed. You may continue to deploy reinforcements, and begin operations towards Theed should you see fit. Additionally, I would like to request permission to borrow elements of the 501st and 9th to mount a patrol into the swamps and forests in order to secure the crash site of Skybird Zero-Six-Four, as well as secure a rendezvous point for elements of the Imperial navy to allow for a pick-up. I would also like to conduct reconnaissance of the area as to get a better idea of rebel movements in the terrain. Over."

"Wild Goose Ten, roger that. Well done. Captain Hoff will take command of the ground forces and begin operations towards Theed. You have permission to secure a squad of stormtroopers from the 501st and launch a recovery operation into the swamps, as long as you understand that I have no way of guaranteeing that an evacuation is indeed possible once you enter rebel held territory. Do you understand? Over."

Jaron gritted his teeth.
"I understand, sir. We will make do. Thank you. End here. Out." He tossed the radio back to the stormtrooper, checked his weapon, and called out; "I need a squad. Eight volunteers to come with me and secure the crash site of Skybird Zero-Six-Four. This will be a dangerous job that will in all likelihood put us deep into rebel controlled terrain, and there is no guarantee of an evacuation being possible by air. I need eight volunteers. We're going to get our boys home."

 

[Chask274]

The ride over to the plains staging area had been as peaceful as a one could expect in a war zone. For some reason Isaac still didn't know, what was left of his squad had been redeployed from the Theed FOB straight to the staging area as soon as they'd arrived. The crew chief of the transport had given them the basics of what had been going on, as well as letting them know a PMC was currently leading the offensive. As long as they knew what they were doing, it didn't matter to Isaac who was in charge. After the transport dropped them off at the newly built garrison, Isaac and his two squadmates rearmed and marched out to the front.

Arriving just as the Imperial vehicles renewed their barrage, Isaac heard a call for volunteers for a rescue mission. Stepping forward, the trooper nodded to the merc, "I'll go. You're going to need a support gunner if you're heading into hostile territory." To emphasize his point, Isaac unslung his E98 Repeater and double-checked it's condition.