Don't Rain on my Parade

[Fyston]

As the desert sun beat down on the back of the Initiate's neck, he could not help but adjust the his wide-brimmed hat. I have been on Jakku far too long, thought the Jedi as he made his way along the parade grounds. He moved relatively uninhibited as he had spent the past two years on the Sith-controlled world and he had made himself known as someone who supported the Empire. Having built up trust with the local garrison, he had been allowed to help get the parade grounds ready for the monthly "parade" that was more of a show of force and a method of intimidation. To those not knowing Xene's true intentions, he was a meek civilian with die-hard loyalty towards the Imperials.

A side effect of being one of the few large settlements was that sewers and other important infrastructure tended to be present just under streets and this street was no different, allowing Xene and a number of assistants to plant mines under the cover of darkness. As he adjusted a number of barriers, he made a quick tally of the mines. The line of mines was long enough to encompass a large portion of the garrison. Present at each end was a baradium mine with a blast radius that would prevent civilian casualties. Next were a series of sonic mines that would incapacitate those just above it and, while Xene could not ensure that no civilians would be harmed, he felt comfortable that none would die or otherwise be seriously affected, unlike the soldiers that would be right above the mines.

Next were plasma mines that were designed to superheat the material above them in a very specific fashion, similar to shaped charges. This would weaken the ground enough to cause the troops and any equipment to fall into the sewers. Once in the sewers, they would encounter traditional claymore mines as well as guerilla fighters to keep them busy. While these mines could be triggered in sequence via comlink, Xenefious had ensured that they could be activated one by one via the Force if need be.

Overall, Xene was pleased with his ability to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. He had spent time going over every possibility that he could think of and was simply waiting for the parade to start. Judging by the aggressive-looking trooper walking towards him, Xene could tell that it was nearing H-Hour. The trooper barked an order to get behind the barriers, which Xene immediately complied with as if he were a normal, scared civilian. The other civilians gave him hate-filled looks and spewed verbal venom at the Jedi, believing him to be a co-conspirator with the Imperial forces.

As the crowd gathered, Xenefious made his way towards the back of the crowd and, under the cover of an awning, looked carefully around to see if his allies had arrived. The Jedi, who had been hiding his Force signature whenever he was in a large settlement, was unable to probe outwards to sense his allies lest he risk being detected and, until the fun began, he couldn't risk it. As such, Xene scanned the gathering crowd, hoping to see a familiar face or two before the parade began.

 

[Valen Pelora]

OOC Note: Valen is wearing medium Jedi Modular Armor with brown Nomex cloak. He has 1 Sunspear pistol, 2 Thermal Detonators, and 2 EMPs. The armor is currently concealed beneath lose fitting long sleeved shirt and trousers.

The Force was awash with misery. The sadly familiar feeling of utter hopelessness and desperation. A feeling pouring across the galaxy as the Empire expanded. Entire worlds were trapped beneath the Imperial boot, forced to worship at the altar of a false idol. Glimmers of hope seldom sprang in the ocean of Darkness. That was changing. The Force was shifting; the Light was fighting back. The Empire would feel the heat of the Jedi. It was time to take a stand. General Valen Pelora leaned against a sandstone wall, hiding in the shade of an awning. His face was carefully hidden by his hood. His robes arranged to conceal his armor and weapons. He had taken every precaution to ensure he was not easily recognizable. The mission would have ended before it started if the Imperial troopers spotted his armaments.

He had been on Jakku for several days, surveying the work Xen had done on the planet. He was proud of his student. Xen had embedded himself deeply in the settlements life and managed to cultivate a group of anti-Imperial resistance fighters. It made smuggling two Jedi Generals and friends into the city far easier. They had spent the last few days carting in the remaining Jedi and weapons. The Imperials were in for a spectacular surprise. He meant this to remind the Empire their reign was not absolute. He meant this to remind the people of Jakku there was still hope. Valen had spent every second of the last five years clawing, scratching, fighting, against the Empire’s rule. The galaxy needed hope and he intended to give it to them.

He kept his Force signature pulled tight, his eyes constantly scanning. He was looking, searching, for any sign of trouble. They had to wait for the perfect moment to strike. He reached out in the Force. He felt Xen in the crowd, giving his student a clear picture of where he waited. He could hear the rumblings of the Imperial war machine. It was almost time. The General and his Initiate were waiting on one last arrival. They would not start the party without her. He could just barely see the Imperial garrison open to spew forth black armored parasites. He hoped the troopers had brought their umbrellas, the Jedi were about to rain on their parade. @Fyston @Zenya

 

[Alcmaeon]

Sidrin understood.

Better than most he knew the atrocities the Imperial administration was willing to commit. He'd been born of them, carried them out, and had risen to his current position because of them. As a child, he'd been given a blaster and told to kill for the Imperium. He'd been told if he didn't then he would be killed. So he'd killed. There was no indoctrination, no mind wiping, no mental reconditioning. He was a soldier, had been raised to be a soldier. It was just his job. He didn't like it, but he was good at it, and he had gotten better with every year he aged.

Better than most he knew this war wasn't just about opposing ideologies, about the dark and light or the big picture. This was an entire galaxy, the picture was too big for all but a handful of people to truly grasp. He knew that for everyone gathered, and admittedly compelled by law, to watch their passage it was about their day to day. Very few people cared much about the boot on their necks, as long as it didn't press down too hard or often, and whether it was of a Sith or Jedi make. A boot was a boot, and unless you were part of the war or political machines, you were under it.

Better than most, he had come to appreciate exactly what his role was. He was a killer, for a regime that ruled by force. This was not a democracy, this was not a tyranny, it was a dictatorship. The boss wanted to stay the boss, and as such he and his administration had devoted insurmountable resources to keep it that way. It wasn't about peace, peace on this scale was impossible, always someone holding a knife to someone else's throat, and the Sith loved to remind everyone listening that peace was a lie. It wasn't about good or evil, although admittedly the Sith had a rather loose grasp on what you'd call moral. The Jedi opposed the ideas of the Sith, and because the Sith wanted to run the show the Jedi felt obligated to oppose them. It was a stupid conflict if you asked him, the Jedi arguing that their detached serenity and distance from anything that made them sentient was the only way for powerful beings to not be pushy jerks, while the Sith argued that they were the only beings in the galaxy who truly knew how to embrace what it was to live. Or something to that tune. Everyone had their own viewpoint on the matter, but to Sidrin it was this; The Sith were the big kid on the playground right now, and he'd never had a choice about who he supported anyways.

The thick jungle air of Jakku cloyed with his lungs as he formed up with the others. Why did everyone always want to go back to Jakku anyways? It was a bug infested swamp, with one crime ridden traders town, and a bunch of religious hermits and a long lost Sith temple. The only special thing about it was its position on the frontier, hence the Imperial presence. Beachhead. Whether or not it was a defensive or offensive one, he had yet to spend time introspecting on.

This was a ceremonial gig, and Sidrin had been forced to look the part. Gone were the good old days of a light tac vest and fatigues and a fare-thee-well out the door. This acolyte wore Shocktrooper armor, sans the bucket of course and stripped of most of the techno-wizardry that made it the superior armor of the day, beneath open fronted and hooded Sith robes. He'd been issued a lightsaber for the whole shebang, the polished and ceremonial hilt clipped visibly to his hip on a magnetic plate on the belt. That was the end of the expected gear, but as an Acolyte of the Sith, he had some pull over the rank and file, and he'd managed to secure himself a blaster pistol, five mags, and a pair of thermal detonators, all spread along the mag plates at the back of his belt where he could reach them. The training saber that he'd carried since it had been given to him sat snugly in its mount on his left wrist.

He'd been antsy and nervous all morning. The Draethos had learned to trust his feelings. He could see a few other acolytes doing the same. The Marauders and Inquisitors didn't bother. They were walking weapons.

They were supposed to be pretty and intimidating, scary, a reminder to the jungle-humpers of Jakku that they'd need to toe the line or the line would toe them in the backside on the way to an Imperial processing camp, while reassuring those who did support the emperor that their faith was not misplaced. As the mess of Imperials in the garrison organized, Sidrin took his position at the rearguard of a tribute to the Dark Lord himself. Priests and Priestesses all assembled on a mag float, depicting a throne with a robe shrouded figure, all dinging his praises in ancient tongues Sidrin couldn't understand. The gates to the garrison began to crawl open, and as a wing of starfighters blasted overhead, the procession began to move.

 

[Zenya]

OOC: Lanna is wearing Jedi Modular Armor under her robes, and a cloak. On her belt, she has a Lightsaber, SA-21 Sunspear Heavy Blaster, 1 SA-38G Supernova Grenade, 2 Thermal detonators, and 1 EMP Grenade hidden away under her robes.

Lanna had been given clear instruction on how to approach the gathering. There would be no curiously taking exaggerated steps off to undesignated areas of the place. And if she had the right idea, she would walk a tight line of caution. Accidentally getting blown sky high, after all the passed years of pushing back on the Sith, would not be her ideal way to go. She had her cloak pulled tight, and she wore an aura of discrete nature. The planet was dry, and hot. A desert that reminded her of Tatooine. The heat however, wasn't her subject of focus.

Standing off to the North side of the crowd, she slowly moved along, keeping a sharp pair of amber eyes out for any suspicious activity. Or her companions. Valen Pelora was a man she had gone on quite a few missions with, and accomplished successfully. She had no question about the quality of the work they could complete together. The other initiate however, she had not met. But she had heard only good things about him.

The woman could actually sense a familiarity around the gathering place. That was probably the only reason she could sense Valen at all. He hid his force signature well, so there was only a linger of someone she knew personally, left. She raised her wrist to her mouth to speak into her com link. "This is General Lanna Singh checking in. I'm at the event."

Looking up towards the sky, she was on the edge. Something was about to tip over. Swallowing, she meditated for a moment on the force. This was going to be a bumpy ride.

@Valen Pelora @Fyston @Alcmaeon

 

[Fyston]

When Valen sent him the information regarding where he was standing, Xene's face remained stone-like and his body language remained that of a scared but loyal citizen of the Empire. The Initiate kept his aura as small as possible, a skill he had become very comfortable in the years since the Republic fell. A few moments later, he could barely hear the comms from General Singh. His earpiece, disguised as a hearing aid, was turned as low as possible so that the encrypted message couldn't be heard except by the Initiate. Still, the presence of operational comms meant that the Imperials had not set up any signal jammers or other equipment that would interfere with the plan.

As the doors rose, exposing the garrison, Xene took a deep breath. Starfighters roared overhead and Xene couldn't help but imagine where his own starfighter would put its shots in order to destroy one. Bringing his mind back to the issue at hand, he scanned the garrison as it began moving and wanted to nod when he understood what was present, though kept himself still.

It appeared that they put the Sith in the rearguard, as Xene could see the robes and equipment that indicated the presence of Force Sensitives. It didn't change the plan, though the Initiate made sure to keep his aura as suppressed as he could. If one were to scan the crowd with the Force, they would likely just see Xene as another untrained Force Sensitive and there were more than a few present, meaning that Xene was just one of a few dozen. Xene waited patiently, not making any moves and watching seemingly loyally as the procession made it's way into the area of operation. He looked no different from the hundreds, if not thousands, of citizens around him and that suited him just fine.

Xene waited until the Sith portion of the procession was in the radius of the first baradium mine and most of the rest of the procession was in the radius for the rest of the mines. He waited just long enough to ensure that most, if not all, of the Sith would be instantly killed or severely wounded and clicked his comlink, sending the signal to the mines and destroying them. He did this without thinking about it and while keeping a calm demeanor, aiming to prevent any potential warning or signal that he wished anyone harm. To Xene, who had been preparing for this moment for quite a while, this was no different than working out in the morning or jogging to clear his head.

First, the baradium mines would explode. Their well defined diameter would vaporize anyone caught inside the blast but would spare any civilians by one meter on each side. This would result in the first unit and the last unit being destroyed in an instant. Next, the sonic mines would explode and would incapacitate the troops caught in their radius and, while it may incapacitate civilians, nobody would be killed. Finally, the plasma mines would take the ground out from underneath the troops in the middle, sending them approximately 10 feet into the sewers below, where they would be bombarded by claymore mines and waiting resistance fighters.

This process would happen in under a second and, in the confusion that would follow, Xene raised his comlink to his mouth. Speaking loud enough so that he could only just be heard over the commotion, he said a single sentence. "Wherever their god is, he seems to be fresh out of mercy. En route." As he finished, the Jedi would begin moving towards his comrades, though remained on guard and began scanning outwards with the Force. He would be able to sense if anyone attempted to attack him and kept his hand on his lightsaber, which had been concealed as a glow-rod. If someone attempted to attack him, the Soresu user would be able to react in time.

 

[Valen Pelora]

A familiar voice chimed in Valen’s ear. His face remained unchanged, his presence unmoving. The building anticipating in his chest lightened. His mind eased knowing Lanna would be fighting beside them. The two Generals and Council members had fought side by side for countless battles. He fondly remembered the first time he had met Lanna, she had been a flightily little Initiate on Endor’s moon. That seemed a century ago. Lanna Singh was a fierce warrior who had earned every single battle she had ever won. Valen trusted her with his life.

They would win today as they had before. The Empire would be shaken. He scanned the crowd again. There were resistance fighters and Jedi scattered throughout. They had to disrupt the parade, bring down the garrison, and save as many civilians as possible. He trusted Xen had placed the charges to limit the danger to innocent lives. Valen had changed during the war but he would not watch innocents die. Not if he could help it. His eyes snapped to the garrison as he heard the gates swing open. He was about 50 meters from the entrance to the garrison, far outside the blast radius. His chest tightened. He continued to keep a careful watch. He breathed the Lightside, his signature hidden. It was time.

The Imperial’s had pulled out all the stops for this particular parade. He could just see the familiar black robes of the Sith. The stench of the Darkside rode on the Force. The perversions of the Light stalked near the back of the procession. They would walk right through where Xen had placed the charges. The young Jedi had worked diligently to ensure the garrison was brought down, and the civilians were safe. Valen took a deep breath as the back of the procession passed near the gate. The Force screamed. Lives were shredded from the Light. Death slammed against his senses. The streets burst into chaos. Civilians screamed and ran. The garrison was crumbling and burning, sinking into the sewers. Jedi and resistance fighters were revealing themselves in the streets and below. Valen waited, melting into the running crowds. He would wait for the first few chaos filled moments passed. Then he would strike. @Fyston @Zenya @Alcmaeon

 

[Alcmaeon]

OOC: Not to be that dork, But I'm pretty sure Jakku's still all jungle in this timeline. Just sayin.

It was with a sense of pride that Sidrin marched in that parade. The rumble of their passing filled him with perfectly corped pulses, the synchronized strikes of armored boots on durasteel plating becoming the harder and less forgiving thud of boots on stone. They were pretty, and deadly too, with every polished weapon to bear, every shocktrooper's armor burnished to a high sheen. You could have shaved in Sidrin's breastplate. A good chunk of these troopers were veteran peacekeepers of Jakku, while a detachment of troops straight out of training and a number of acolytes had been flown in. Most of the local Sith were academics searching for the fabled lost temple, inquisitors, or in transit, but they had been marshaled as well. Light armor and an Arkan ATSW rolled out ahead of him, a flight of Vindicator drones followed the starfighters, weaving about each other in a harmonious pattern. They looked boss, just the meanest of the mean. The few supporters in the crowd cheered, and Sidrin could have cared less if the raucous crowd noises that rose to drown out the catcalls were manufactured. This was a show. This was a parade. Imperial battle formations were a rather bleak event, but as martial music rose in the place of the recorded cheering track, Sidrin swelled.

Course everything would have to go to hell.

The force screamed at him, and he stopped so violently that the acolyte behind him goose stepped right into him. He wasn't the only one. He saw several acolytes either stop or falter, and all of the full Sith froze solid. Even as they all began to move at once, it was too late. The world was torn asunder, wrenched out from beneath him. He sensed explosions ripping the fabric of his world apart, sensed freefall. He couldn't remember what he saw, he would recollect later, but he would remember the impressions. The blasts.

Ordnance like the bomb that had detonated in front of him always left an impression.

The acolyte didn't know up from down, or arsehole from elbows. He snapped back to awareness to a high shriek in his ears, a keening. His senses were assaulted by the smell of blood, of burnt flesh and metal. His world was a blur of blackness and flashes of light that resolved itself into a cloud of dust. Blaster bolts flew overhead, the multicolored lights pretty in a grim way. That he had gone to ground had probably saved his life, but his mind only seemed capable of quietly observing that from a few miles away. He laid in a pile of rubble, watching as acolytes and Sith tried to muster something. Anything. To push back the assault. He watched several cut down. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the hot air, a miasma of jungle stink, charred sith, and burnt stone, embracing the darkness. He had been a dead man since he'd been taken from his family. It was just a matter of time really. His head rolled to the side, startling him. Something had shifted beneath him, and the stimulus caused him to open his eyes.

Corpses. Destruction. Acolytes, shocktroopers, all shredded to bits by the blasts. But what his eye fell upon first, was the child's toy.

He had no way of knowing that the ambush had been crafted to minimize civilian casualties. No way of knowing that the bombs further up the convoy were LTL. No way of knowing the toy had been dropped in fear of the loud noises, and the owner was alive and running like everyone else. He didn't even know what kind of weapon had hit HIM, just that it had exploded almost right under the statue of the Dark Lord and sent shrapnel flying upwards in a rain of needle shaped stone shards that would be coming back down any moment. All he could know was that they were killing them. They were killing acolytes, some fresh to the brotherhood. They were killing shocktroopers fresh out of boot. They were killing Imperial citizens.

They were killing children.

The force grew very still within Sidrin as his mind sharpened like a razor on a strop, snapping him back to the present. He was a soldier. He was an Imperial. He was a Sith. Whoever they were, they would stand accountable for this barbarism. Around him men were dying still, explosions and blaster fire shredding them as they stood and tried to fight back. A lifetime of repressed anger boiled within him, filled his heart with hate. All his life he had witnessed what the war against the Empire had created, the misery and death, the suffering of people who just wanted to be left alone. That the ashes of the republic wouldn't let them rest, that they were always dragged inexorably back to war, THAT was the injustice in the galaxy. An injustice that manifested itself in him now as wrath.

The bellow that rose from the small pile of duracrete and dust that Sidrin lay partially beneath touched the minds of everyone within his telepathic reach, like a man screaming in a crowded room touched the ears of all who could hear him. To those who still had a working sense of hearing, he was utterly silent, save the sudden crack as the Force exploded from him, sending several chunks of manufactured stone flying. The shrapnel had the effect of detonating a number of nearby mines and reducing a few guerrillas and dying imperials to perforated chunks of meat. He rose to his feet, shaking with rage.

Dust swirled around him. He had always been taught to assault into the ambush, to let the violence of action put the enemy on their heels. He needed a target, and he found one as some insurgent fired a round blindly into the cloud of debris. Sidrin was on him in a skipping rush, deploying both his training saber and the real one he'd been given for the parade as he exploded out of the swirling debris and hacking the poor man to bits. Knowing fully well that he'd just painted a nice big glowing target on his back, he kept moving, one of his hands flitting behind his back to grab something even as he took several steps into the tunnel the insurgent had come from and finding more of his friends. The sudden arrival of a blood covered Sith of his size and demeanor was a startling occurrence no matter how well conditioned you were, and the insurgents paused in their advance at his advent.

'Whichever one of you responsible for this is going to die by inches. The rest of you will envy his fate.'

He raised his sabers, the primed thermal detonator clenched in his left fist, with the thumb pressed on the timer stop button, most likely unobserved as the blades glow reflected in his eyes. Down here in the dark, they were in his own private hell, and as the dark side filled him, emboldened by his towering rage, the force began to pulse with what he felt could only be yearning.

 

[Gian Greydragon]

Arriving hours earlier to the city, by way of landspeeder, parking it behind the building he now stood upon. Segovax had been sent, originally, to Jakku to shore up the training of those Sith and Legion members, and ready them for further deployment, but whispers among the Inquisitors spoke of Jedi activity on the planet, and had dispatched their attack dogs, the Templars, to root them out, and kill them off or run them off the planet. Segovax had every intention on making them think twice. Disallowing this information to reach public ear, the officials in charge of the parade continued the plans as they were, knowing what might happen, though what had happened was not what was expected. Segovax had not been on the planet for more than a few days, and even less so in this settlement, as his station was at the main military outpost, before this moment, and was only following leads on possible activity.

Standing perched on a building, behind civilians, Segovax watched, in his black Echani Armor, and Templar Robes, and carrying all his standard gear concealed under his robes, he stood, covered by the chest-high sign in front of him. Bored out of his mind, he scanned the crowd, and surrounding rooftops. It was at this moment, this single moment, that the entire road before him was now underground, along with all of the Sith, and Troops that may have survived the blast. Recoiling instinctively, Segovax, ducked underneath the duracrete wall, as the explosion erupted, in time for a stray piece of shrapnel, presumably from a Trooper's armor getting trashed by the explosion, flew past, where Segovax's head was just moments ago.

Leaping upward, and over the crowd on his side of the street, and downward into the sewer, Segovax grabbed both of his saber, igniting them at the standard one meter length blades. Breaking his fall with the Force, he landed next to a Draethos Acolyte, who seemed mostly whole, after the massive explosion. "Stick with me, kid, and we might live to get the hell out of here," Segovax shouted over the overlapping screams, gunfire and whirs and clashes of lightsabers.

@Fyston @Zenya @Valen Pelora @Alcmaeon

 

[Xan]

OOC: Xanthis is equipped with Inquisition Combat Armor,

Xanthis hated Imperial parades. It would have been an odd sentiment to share with his brothers and sisters in the Inquisition without context, but there was an actual reason for his disliking of the events. He did not consider them to be efficient displays of the Empire's power, or at least of the Empire's message. The Empire was a machine in which every cog had its dedicated role, and in enacting those roles did every cog contribute to the power and prosperity of the greater whole. What it was not was some Moff's canvas, and these "displays" did more to create problems than they did to solve them. Even beyond the unnecessary displays however, were the rampant security risks associated with marching troops and equipment through the open streets. Parades presented unnecessary opportunities for resistance cells to strike blows against the Empire, even if said blows were but mere bug bites in the grand scheme of things.

Standing on a covered balcony above the parade, Xanthis looked downward through the material and into the crowd attending the parade with a scowl. The Inquisition had been notified of "anti-Imperial rhetoric" and of possible Jedi operations on Jakku, and had seen fit to dispatch himself and another Templar to seek out their counterparts and perform their holy duties. Thinking about his fellow Templar, Xanthis sighed a moment and his scowl dissipated. At least he was not alone in watching over this procession, and from what he knew of Segovax the man was competent in his duties and could be depended on. That was a small mercy however, given his overall feeling about these events in general.

'Ah well, at least nothing's going on y-' Xanthis's thoughts were interrupted when his Force-enhanced vision saw something intriguing. An individual clad in armor standing amongst the attendees. They had disguised themselves cleverly by concealing said armor beneath clothing, but such a disguise was unhelpful when set against eyes that saw through the living Force. The Miraluka silently clapped in appreciation for the Jedi's mastery of disguising themselves from Force-based detection, though the presence of their lightsaber betrayed them nonetheless. Just as he was activating his comm link to "radio in" about his find however, the parade exploded quite literally and sank into the sewer. Had Xanthis not been wearing his helmet, he might have pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. This was precisely why he hated parades. Taking a few running steps, Xanthis leaped from the balcony into the sewer without further thought, landing with the aid of the Force next to his fellow Templar and a Sith that he did not recognize.

"At least one Jedi up above," he said as he unclipped a lightsaber from his belt. It was not his Templar crossguard lightsaber, but one of the purple-bladed lightsabers that he had carried since he had been a Jedi Knight. It was more comfortable in his hand, and where his grip instinctively reached when battle was joined. "They wore clothing to blend with the civilians, with armour directly underneath." A stray energy bolt was deflected almost lazily as Xanthis spoke, directly into the face of the one who had fired it at him. "Priority Jedi or the garrison, you think?" A simple question that sought his ally's opinion on where the effort of the Templars should be focused. Were they to try to save the men, or hunt the Jedi who were more than likely the masterminds of this ambush?

@Fyston @Zenya @Valen Pelora @Alcmaeon @Gian Greydragon

 

[Zenya]

Just as the woman had expected, a blast of energy fired up throughout the gathering place. And, of course, a very real explosion along with it.

Lanna got down, bracing herself. Most of the crowd around her had also been knocked to their knees as well. The woman snapped her gaze up to find several individuals jumping down into the sewage system. Sith.

"Check," she winced, as she quickly jumped to her feet. She unclipped a thermal detonator from her belt, set it to detonate, then hurled it with the force, down the opening to the sewage system. Seconds later, an explosion could be heard under ground. That would most certainly injure them. Then of course, if her calculations were correct, there was a whole avalanch of obstacles to come after. It would take one hell of a miracle to get out of of there alive.

@Valen Pelora @Fyston @Alcmaeon @Gian Greydragon @Xan

 

[Fyston]

He watched as a number of the procession fell into the sewers. He was about to detonate the claymores when he saw not one but two more Sith, lightsabers in hand, leap into the sewers. We can handle the rest, thought the Initiate as he calmly clicked his comlink a second time.

In less than a second, the claymores planted in the sewers would explode. Instantly, their deadly payload of shrapnel would rip through any of the fighters unlucky enough to be present in the sewers. The sheer number of mines would ensure that none would survive as the explosive charge, plus the ricocheting of the shrapnel that did not initially impact a target, would make life a very short version of hell for the Sith forces in the sewers.

As if to further ensure that those inside were dead, Xene watched as one of his comrades chucked a thermal detonator into the sewer and felt a second explosion as the baradium core caused a massive amount of damage, disintegrating anything in its radius. Xene had not had time to warn the resistance fighters, who had been finishing any troops still alive in the sewers, though he did not hesitate to warn them to move back in case more thermal detonators followed. He was unsure how many casualties they had taken, though he had not felt a massive loss of life as he had when the bombs and, secondly, the claymores exploded.

Reaching out in the Force, Xene continued to move towards his Master, his guard raised both mentally and physically. I have detonated the claymores, Master, spoke Xene to Valen through the Force and, while the screams were beginning to die down as the number of civilians diminished, the screams of those wounded but not dead continued to cause chaos on the parade that had been peaceful just a short while before. Xene moved with the crowd, however, and would maintain a safe but effective difference from his co-conspirators as he waited for the next phase of their plan.

@Valen Pelora @Alcmaeon @Gian Greydragon @Xan @Zenya

 

[Valen Pelora]

Valen kept his eyes carefully trained on the garrison as the ground gave way and sunk into the sewer. He knew resistance fighters, and further ordinance, waited below. Xen had carefully designed the trap to destroy the garrison and send any survivors into the sewers. Those that survived the initial blast would be greeted by the secondary explosion of claymore mines. His student had explained the claymores could be remoted detonated by commlink or individually detonated with the Force. As the garrison quickly sunk, he waited for the second explosion. He felt a pang run through the Force. He watched two Sith fly into the sewers. They disappeared from view and an explosion immediately followed. Smart. The fresh hammering of death assaulted his senses.

He shut the pain out, and pulled a thermal detonator from his belt. He pushed the Force into his arm, set the timer to two and a half seconds and threw. He aimed for the location he had seen the two Sith jumping into. The grenade was thrown at 60 miles per hour (26.8 meters per second), meaning it should explode right as it reached his target. Two more explosions rocked Jakku as his thermal detonator met Lanna’s. Valen’ didn’t know if the Sith survived but he highly doubted they could. He knew some of the deaths he felt were resistance fighter caught in the blasts. They had volunteered to sacrifice their lives to keep the Empire’s ilk in the sewers. He would never forget their sacrifice. He would beg for the Light’s forgiveness when the war was over. His hand drifted towards his Lightsaber as he prepared to fight. @Fyston @Alcmaeon @Gian Greydragon @Xan @Zenya

 

[Gian Greydragon]

Segovax turned to face the Miralukan Templar, with hatred burning in his eyes, as the Acolyte next to him had been gunned down by stray bolts from the ensuing chaos around them. Just then, the muffled sounds of some buried claymore mines left over from earlier had gone off, blasting large chunks of duracrete in multiple directions, peppering the Templars with bits of broken road that had fallen on top of the claymores, blocking them from being very effective. While a few of them actually got off, and did damage, it was not in direct line with Segovax or his comrade. Segovax would take some damage to his left arm and shoulder armor, from kicked up duracrete, and a minor amount of shrapnel from the claymores themselves.

"Jump!" Segovax shouted, at his teammate. They needed out of there, in case there were more freedom fighters and Jedi from above. As he crested the top of the ravine, Segovax saw a female Jedi (@Zenya) throwing a grenade and the glint of another spherical object raining in quickly from somewhere on the other side of the chasm that had been created (@Valen Pelora).

Quickly firing off a telekinetic blast of the Force at each of the grenades, Segovax only exerted a medium amount of effort into the blasts, causing them to redirect back in their thrown directions. The grenade thrown from the other side of the ravine would land in the street, and would be of little consequence, however the second one was redirected directly back at it's thrower. It was around this time that he'd landed on the roof of a building, that stood about 7 meters high, across the street from the lone Jedi. There, he sat crouched, underneath cover, and brought around his shortened 2112 Slammer Rifle, from it's position on his back, and waited for an opportunity to rain hell on any Jedi that showed their mugs.

 

[Xan]

In the days that Xanthis had spent as a Jedi Knight, he had survived many close encounters by the skin of his teeth due to the influence of a comrade. As an Initiate, he had been trained to trust in the word of his fellow Initiates. They were unlike their counterparts in the main Sith Order; where the Marauders were taught to be ambitious and to use everything in their power to get ahead of their fellows, Inquisitors were taught to help each other and to pull one another to higher places. Thus when Segovax shouted for him to jump, Xanthis did so without hesitation and leaped upward with the Force to guide his feet. It was a fortunate thing that he did so, as only the world underneath him exploded soon after his feet left the ground. He noted from his peripheral vision that the statue of the Emperor that had fallen with the garrison absorbed a great deal of shrapnel that might have otherwise struck him, and he would later note that the Emperor protects.

Of course, that would be assuming that he survived today's events, which was not guaranteed. Several bits of shrapnel still ricocheted upward toward him from the other side, though most bounced off of his armor while a few perforated the lighter areas and made shallow gashes along his left tricep and hip. He noted Segovax firing telekinetic bursts at something that had been apparently thrown at them, but for the moment Xanthis was preoccupied with landing on the building ahead of him. When his feet touched the building in question, he quickly surveyed the area and came to a rather bleak conclusion. "We're outnumbered. Retreat might be wise." He kept his statement short and simple, not wasting time with his usual manner of speaking. Between the surviving resistance fighters in the sewer, the Jedi who accompanied them down there, and the Jedi that were above ground with them (of which he knew there was at least one), it was just simple logic that told him that the Templars would most likely need to fall back. He predicted that Segovax would not like it, but at this point the garrison had been wiped almost to a man...there was little left here to defend and they were on an unfortunate backfoot in this battle. If he had time, Xanthis would add: "The Empire gains nothing by a sacrifice here, but it gains information should we survive," as a means to persuade his comrade

 

[Arcangel]

Thread locked and voided.

See OOC for details.