- Joined
- Dec 19, 2015
- Messages
- 349
- Reaction score
- 411
■ I click for music
It hadn't dawned on him until he was staring inches away from crimson plasma who he was really facing. These were sith, who bred destruction in all things. They fought for no end, there was nothing to reap from their conquest. After the Vicar had introduced so formally he was jarred when her second blade hissed and was extinguished. She was maddeningly still as she reached across arm to pin the dual wielded blade to her belt. She fought for no end -- she was being fulfilled in the very field of battle.
The Chiss commando, with right arm extended high over head in bladelock with the Vicar, looked onto her strange visage. A coarse laugh escaped his helmet's raspy voice module, followed by a few coughs. "This must be an honour for you, Vicar." Red sparks bounced against his helmet; beneath his vision was blinded by the intoxicating crimson light flooding in.
"I am Vak'rosh Stratakar, Supreme Commander of the Republic." The last of his words were spat venomously with Cheunhen influence, "but you say nothing -- I have no name for my enemies."
His sense of sound overtook him, throwing his attention left as a sith fighter was obliterated in the sky. A storm of pinkish blasterfire trailed in three separate bolts just over the duelist's shoulders, scattering rubble and duracrete to all corners. Rosh toppled back, able to catch a footing before skidding over the edge of the terrace plaza to an untimely death.
One of the walker's massive legs lumbered overhead.
I’m giving cover to get evac ships out. Do not attack this walker. I repeat do NOT attack walker SBV-W-8821! It is now under Republic control! jumped through his helmet's voice comm.
Blast. His transponder was attached to the sleeve of his armour... which he'd pulled off to halt the Vicar's flames. The Vicar; he jumped to check over his shoulder for the woman, unable to pick her out among the flashing smoke. Good. It was a chance to slip away. Rosh's exit was less stealth involved than his entrance, using the chaos of the Walker's bombardment to sprint off and into the nearest tower -- it just had to be tall enough.
Filing into a tower that wasn't burning he encountered the jedi from earlier, still at work fighting sith. "You! C'mon!" Was all Rosh could shout before he was barreling into the lobby. His chest felt sore upon the sight of one of his soldiers, charred from neck to toe, clutching lifelessly to his blaster. If there were more time he would've deserved a proper funeral, but his memory would suffice well enough; Rosh snatched the rifle and holotags from the soldier's corpse. Before calling an elevator he noted the opposite lift, which was destroyed, spurting blood trails onto the lobby's dusty floor. Another bolt from the walker permeated the atmosphere, shaking all architecture, and inhabitants, to the core. I'm coming, I'm coming.
The elevator panel finally chirped to life, opening the doors to reveal an awaiting chamber. Rosh pulled the jedi in with him and scanned between the hundreds of floors. 20, 20 is good...? The elevator sped off, trailing up the walker's flank -- he had to resist the urge to wave. Talia carved relentless into the incoming sith forces, clearing some skyway as well. As they came up over the walker, his gaze drifted to the transport ships. If they were going to stand any chance, they had to go to the capital; but they would forsake so many to the cruelty of the sith. They could have a hundred ships, a thousand, a million -- the death toll would rise to match.
"Follow me." The Commander dashed out of the elevator, taking his rifle in one hand to pull his grappling rope with the other. A small hook tipped the end of the rope, rapidly unspooling from his belt as he extended a gracious length of the wire around his vacant palm. They were twenty stories high, a key factor Rosh had forgotten until he crested the edge of the tower's twentieth terrace. His toes hovered the nearly thirty meter drop as he twirled grappling hook in hand and prepared to throw.
"Oh, kriff..." He exclaimed, shakily rubbing some soot from his brow. The Walker stormed sluggishly by before him like some massive creature -- it made the wrangling all the more frightening. When the giant machine lifted it's head he noticed one cheek was singed through, showing a wide gap into the cockpit of the thing.
"Who in the hell is that woman." He sidled over to better accommodate the angle of the opening. A few anxious twirls and he lobbed the grappling hook, clanging and biting down on the framework of the Walker's breach. For a moment he smirked in victory, quickly flushed to a realizing expression the distance between he and the walker quickly became wider. The spool of wire around his hand ran across his skin and vanished slowly, mockingly. The Commander could do naught but roll his eyes and look over toward the jedi before he was flung through the air into the street proper. Energy bolts flew past blindingly as he dangled from the hip, soaring this way and that through the air when the Walker looked to shoot. Even in his comedic state he reached upward to equip his blaster pistol, firing off toward the sith forces scurrying on the ground. It took more than a few swats before his hand found the retraction button on his belt, pulling him up and into the cockpit like a spider to it's web.
Inside he was surprised to find Talia sharing snacks with the enemy pilot.
The elevator panel finally chirped to life, opening the doors to reveal an awaiting chamber. Rosh pulled the jedi in with him and scanned between the hundreds of floors. 20, 20 is good...? The elevator sped off, trailing up the walker's flank -- he had to resist the urge to wave. Talia carved relentless into the incoming sith forces, clearing some skyway as well. As they came up over the walker, his gaze drifted to the transport ships. If they were going to stand any chance, they had to go to the capital; but they would forsake so many to the cruelty of the sith. They could have a hundred ships, a thousand, a million -- the death toll would rise to match.
"Follow me." The Commander dashed out of the elevator, taking his rifle in one hand to pull his grappling rope with the other. A small hook tipped the end of the rope, rapidly unspooling from his belt as he extended a gracious length of the wire around his vacant palm. They were twenty stories high, a key factor Rosh had forgotten until he crested the edge of the tower's twentieth terrace. His toes hovered the nearly thirty meter drop as he twirled grappling hook in hand and prepared to throw.
"Oh, kriff..." He exclaimed, shakily rubbing some soot from his brow. The Walker stormed sluggishly by before him like some massive creature -- it made the wrangling all the more frightening. When the giant machine lifted it's head he noticed one cheek was singed through, showing a wide gap into the cockpit of the thing.
"Who in the hell is that woman." He sidled over to better accommodate the angle of the opening. A few anxious twirls and he lobbed the grappling hook, clanging and biting down on the framework of the Walker's breach. For a moment he smirked in victory, quickly flushed to a realizing expression the distance between he and the walker quickly became wider. The spool of wire around his hand ran across his skin and vanished slowly, mockingly. The Commander could do naught but roll his eyes and look over toward the jedi before he was flung through the air into the street proper. Energy bolts flew past blindingly as he dangled from the hip, soaring this way and that through the air when the Walker looked to shoot. Even in his comedic state he reached upward to equip his blaster pistol, firing off toward the sith forces scurrying on the ground. It took more than a few swats before his hand found the retraction button on his belt, pulling him up and into the cockpit like a spider to it's web.
Inside he was surprised to find Talia sharing snacks with the enemy pilot.
Peaceful coexistance, I suppose.
■ III click for music
"I would make you a lieutenant if I weren't prepared to put a bolt through your skull." It was the best greeting-slash-thank-you he could muster for the woman, who he realized all too late was not just a well armoured adventurer. "My name is Rosh Stratakar." The aforementioned Stratakar reached into a pouch at his chest to retrieve a stiffly rolled stick of t'bac. Patting his suit for a light, he continued, "no doubt you're going to the Rotunda? I hope." He leaned against the back of Fruwell's chair, finally finding a push-lighter to ignite the herb impatiently.
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