HELL WEEK: Play Station

[DeathToll]

...sounds of Sunshine...​

Spoiler: ON TO DAY 3

DAY 3 - PLAY STATION
...Inexperience is death. Plug in to play out this realistic battle scenario, as if you were actually there. Zsaekriel's troops are your enemy. Work together, survive, think on your feet, and attempt to pass this test. To fail your men in here is to fail yourself out there. Details to come in the thread.

Combatants: Zsaekriel, Balthazar, and Blank

It was time. Each combatant had been called to the designated and prepared room for their next test and training. Zsaekriel was standing there, the same black and silvery garb of his days in purgatory, awaiting the three Jedi that had volunteered themselves to represent the Order. Facing the door with arms folded behind his back, he patiently awaited in front of four wheel-shaped consoles. The most state of the art simulation pods were installed in this room, all plugged in to one center terminal which all consoles faced in a semi-circle to the wall. All watching would be in designated airing locations around the ship, but none would be permitted here other than the three combatants whom Zsaekriel was becoming to know through these tests. Here he would further challenge them to find the basis on which to begin the Order's general need for teaching.

As each of them arrived, he would maintain a level of pleasant exchange while keeping distance as one of their leaders with a simple:

"Welcome."

Zsaekriel sought no friends heres, but to set this Order on the right path. So, while he greeted them, he would pay little attention to their previously imprinted reactions to his first impressions on all of them from days past. This 'Hell Week' was one hell of a hello to the Jedi he'd be acting as Councilor to. This greeting was necessary in Zsaekriel's belief, and so too was the proper use of their time. So he would waste none of it and wave each of them into their designated seats within the vertically positioned rings that were their consoles. Their feet would fit into pockets, just as their hands would slip into relaxed sensories. The white-coated assistant in the room, at first hiding in the corner, would then make his rounds and hook up each of them with surrounding mechanisms sliding into place and inserting instruments wherever need be. Zsaekriel would be the last to join them, each awaiting the group in a loading lobby.

As each of them joined in an aware state of brain activity, linked through the visually accepted stimulus, they would find themselves standing in a white empty space; wide open and without the Battle Master's presence. But within their time of acclimation, the combatants would suddenly the striking of a figure like a laser shot down from the sky; a slit of a line that, once impacting with the blank-white ground, expanded into the image of Zsaekriel. He wrapped his arms around his back and began pacing before them.

"Here we are again... There will be three angles to this simulation. Three groups of armies are awaiting your leadership, neutral until changing to your influence. These soldiers will reflect your intensions and the way you go about accomplishing your goals for this battle. There will be no Sith, no Alliance. Just two large groups of forces with a third slightly smaller group. My goal, with the control over one major group, will be to defeat you, Knight Surana. You, controlling the other major group, will be faced with a judgement when the threat of my forces are upon you and a third party seeks to change the board. You, Master Blank, will be that third party. Controlling the smaller group, your goal is to take the entire battle without the use of numbers. Balthazar, your forces' teamwork and cooperation will accomplish your victory here. Keep that in mind. Master Blank, I leave your methods to your own council. And I will do what I must to defeat you, Knight Surana, you both if the scenario demands it.

Begin."

And with that, a flash overtook their senses. Towering trees, rolling hills, random formations of kath hounds, mountainous backgrounds, and fluttering birds all dropped into awareness as the life of this world gave description to their battlefield. The fairly level and even open land was green with grass, a wide open territory with but a small cluster of dense trees protruding into the center of the battlefield from the right; thus creating an arc, which the two main forces would start at either end and the smaller force would start at the center from within the trees. Though no one of the three parties would be able to see the other at first, the two main forces would have to make for the center of the arc over scooping hills and numorous groups of beasts in order to face the other.

The two main forces (Zsaekriel's forces on one end and Sereph's and Dain's forces on the other) had a back lining of five slow moving tanks, with ranks ranging in number for snipers, heavy artillery, and infantry. The center less numorous force (Blank's forces) would have a special team of sabateurs with explosive capabilities. They have no tanks but do have a number of heavy artillery, snipers, and infantry. None has the capability of air support. This is a full scale ground battle, three-way encounter.

Zsaekriel looked around, realizing he was now in the belly of a center-right tank at the back of his forces. It took him a moment, but once his mind was in sync with the scenario's programming he was able to begin comprehension and movement. He turned about and climbed up the internal ladder to pop the hatch. Twisting the seal away, he then poked his head out and propped his elbows onto the rim of the opening. He immediately pushed up to a stand, stradling the open hatch, and addressed his blank troops. As soon as he made his first decision, their programming would imprint a similar state of mind and character profile to the troops he commanded; thus an affiliation could be portrayed, and therefore their tendancies to which individual decisions they might make under the umbrella of their General's orders.

"Soldiers of the people! You are the 'Loyalists'! Show your loyalty to your people! Show your loyalty to your families! Show your loyalty to your government and your lands, lest your enemies burn them down and destroy all that is dear to you! Do what is necessary! Finish this war today! ..Now forward!"

Zsaekriel's troops were immediately affiliated with the kind of soldier one might find in the Imperium's ranks; believing they are right, yet not restricted by much moral code and therefore each soldier could now act on that impulse within their obedience to greater order. Each team would need this programming to be put into their soldiers, as Zsaekriel had done, in order to set the tone for their troops' behavior pattern.

Spoiler: FIRST POST

Each combatant is to first, after reacting to all that I've said, establish a like mind and affiliation to their troops as well as a name that we all can use to describe each of the three forces. Zsaekriel just established an Imperium midnset to his troops now named "Loyalists", just as one might set a Jedi/Alliance mindset or Imperial Knight or Mandalorian or any other mindset. No orders are to be issued yet, but the choice to move or stay stationary is available. Next round we will all begin orders to start strategies, and then the round after that we will have contact. Questions will be answered in the OOC.

 

[Prancing Yawn]

The third day.

No doubt it would be as - or more - challenging than the second. This new Battlemaster had thoroughly impressed the fighting ace, in more was than one. For the past hours he had been mentally and physically training for another encounter with him, spending most of the night in the training rooms of the Light of the Force. He would not be caught off guard, he would be prepared. He always was.
Hands folded in front of him, Blank intently listened to Zsaekriel's explanation. After the Battlemaster finished, he nodded, already locked into the simulation pod. He'd been in similar models, but had never really grown use to the swirl it made in his stomach. He focused the Force into his center, calming the nauseating feeling.

In seconds Blank materialized into the simulated battlefield. Green grass, mountains in the artificial background, lots of trees, rather nondescript. He couldn't see any of the other combatants. Soon the two main armies would be on the march. He'd have to organize quickly. In a few seconds he spun around, taking in all he saw and repeating images of it in his mind. A small amount of snipers, infantry, some saboteurs, some cannons. He jumped onto the barrel of one of these hulking artillery pieces, easily balancing on it. Slipping his hand into his coat he took out his purple blade lightsaber and ignited it, holding it above his head, and sent a telepathic 'megaphone' shout to his small force of generated soldiers.

We are the independents. We are the mavericks, and we hold no flag. The battle ahead will have multiple combatants, and we will be one of them. Our victory will be in strategic prowess and cunning. You are the best of the best of my army,
he paused for a moment, as his army had no name. It was rather fitting.
.. and I have faith you will not disappoint me. The Force is with us!

 

[Rom]

One lesson that Balthazar Surana would never forget from his recently slain master was this; the first sixty seconds of any new conflict could make or break a battle plan. Seeing as he was just now finding out about troop composition, terrain, and the forces he would b fighting, the Jedi Knight did not exactly have much time to make a fully cognizant battle plan, so he would have to make a bare bones frame work, and improvise from there. The Miralukan was the youngest and least powerful member of the training exercise; up against two Masters, this would not be an easy battle to survive, let alone win.

Exhaling as the world came back into focus, the Jedi Knight looked around to take a look at the territory he was dealing with. Force senses reaching out, the Miralukan viewed the artificial world easily, his senses informing him of the bright auras of the Masters across the battlefield; one near the center and the other further across the valley. Turning around, he had to contain his surprise at finding himself surrounded in a semi-circle by non moving entities, their faces blank as they waited for their programming. Clearing his throat, the Jedi Knight reached down to his belt and drew his blaster pistol and lightsaber, acknowledging the weight of the sniper rifle slung across his back and the bandolier of explosives and power packs criss crossing his chest over his usual grey and white robes and hide armor.

Igniting his lightsaber with a muted snap-hiss, the green blade burning fiercely as he looked over the men, his mind instantly identifying them as commanders and squadron leaders for different infantry units, sniper teams, tank corp, and heavy artillery. In his minds eye, Balthazar identified his force; battle hardened and talented soldiers, not fighting for any clan, country, planetary body, or government. They fought for freedom, for themselves and others, and their purpose united them under a strong bond of loyalty and idealistic faith.

"Mighty crowded out there--" the Jedi Sentinel gestured towards the holographic image revolving off of the table where his commanders were resting their feet non-chalantly, looking relaxed but beneath the carefree exterior they were taut with anticipation. "We're outnumbered and out classed on a level that may as well give them four to one odds against our numbers. Does anyone have a plan?" Smirking, one of the infantry commanders blurted out in a mock terrified voice, "B-but sir! We thought you had a plan!!" The other commanders all laughed; they knew that their commander had a plan. They had no other way to look at the situation.

Chuckling, Zar looked at the table and began to speak softly as if he was talking to himself, his men leaning forward to hear every word "Well let's see... we're up against two Jedi Generals, both with more war time experience than myself. That's bad. But their experience and my inexperience will make them cocky. Now that's good. The main force will focus on eliminating us first while the saboteurs do their messy work on the more powerful group, our main enemy. That's also good."

"The terrain is hilly and will cause the tanks some issue in getting through; now that's very bad, because they're our long range explosive power, and you can bet the psycho across the way has tanks like we do. But we don't need to move out into that killing field yet, which is even better...."

Pointing out towards the center copse of trees, the Miralukan raised his voice higher as he set about making his battle strategy. " The minute we go through those hills, we'll be forced to engage a two front enemy on a flat plain. We are not entering that killing field We dig in and lay the artillery on thick; We can use the hills as cover from their artillery while we fire off our own."

Turning to face the various squad leaders, the Miralukan smirked and began to hand out closed circuit datapads. "Your operational orders will be dispatched to your datapads; the plan is to remain fluid and ready to anticipate and change based on the conditions of battle. I trust each and every one of you will complete your task with the fullest success possible. Commanders, stay with me here, we have work to do."

Drawing himself up to his full height, his voice thick with emotion even though he knew that these were just simulations, he knew that he would be addressing some of these men for the last time. "Remember who you are!" he shouted, his voice echoing with the aid of the force across his entire encampment. "What we are about to undertake, you do not do for fame, or reward, or ambition! You are not compelled into this fight by necessity like slaves! We go into battle now out of a simple duty to all people; the oppressed citizens of the Loyalists, and the rights they have lost through years of suffering."

Pausing a moment to draw in a breath, the Miralukan Sentinel raised his lightsaber high above his head, the green blade burning brightly and illuminating the tear-filled eyes of some of his commanders. Looking at each of them, his sightless goggles conveying nothing but the Force instilling his confidence and admiration for the men serving under him into each of their minds, Balthazar raised his voice and bellowed out, "The Sons and Daughters of Freedom will not allow defeat or injustice to stand!"

Stamping their feet and banging their fists on the table in appreciation, the squad leaders stood and saluted before stepping out of the tent to gather their troops and begin the encampment movement to the more defensible bluff behind their position. Turning off his lightsaber, but keeping the hilt in his hand, the Miralukan peered down at the holographic reader, surrounded by his commanders as they began to plan out there strategy.

Sixty seconds was a long time.

 

[DeathToll]

The wide ranks of the Loyalists marched forward, as if the trumpets of a long lost civilazation heralded their return to battle; the voice that whispered life into their existence. Now, their fingers remembered what their rifles felt like, what the earth did when they pushed back. Their boots spoke for them now, digging in the marks of a thousand prints and thousand more. They were here, now, and they would not leave their mark without taking what they could with them.

The Battle Master looked down to see the comms device at his hip and the advice came pooring into his thoughts, realizing the plan for first contact. He hopped up and clapped his heels together, dropping back down into the tank. The seal shut above him and he began the day. Zsaekriel then lifted the comms device free and brought it up to his mouth. The tank technician paid him no attention.

"La Rouge!"

It was the first name to come into his head. There was no other he felt more competent to win this battle. And her voice replied back for the go-ahead.

"Commander. We form a left-point-wedge. Now! Prepare for fire. Hold fire..."

He lowered the comms and leaned in towards the technician. A complete technical read-out of his troops were on screen to the right. He pointed to the three right most tanks at the back of the reforming ranks, slowing to allow the front lines to form left and extend out while the back lines thickened.

"Tanks eight, nine, and ten fire on my command for grid poins 0-4 to 1-4."

The technician repeated Zsaekriel's words, almost verbatum, into his comms with the other tanks. They confirmed. The three tanks' barrels began to lower as they took aim, no soldier yet in sight.

"Fire!"

The technician spoke the order as he repeated the command and the three tanks began blasting the distant hillside. The area, opposite the Loyalists, would be decimated with a trench open-faced to the Loyalists. No vehicle would be able to traverse the gap that took up nearly a quarter of the field, the west (the Loyalists' right, The Sons and Daughters of Freedom's left) side of the field before reaching near center of the map and before reaching a prefered location to see the Loyalists with a withstanding formation would be difficult for even a mass of soldiers to travel over. The Sons and Daughters of Freedom would be choked at that point now, if they ever decided to get to that point, and would either have to stay back where the entirety of their numbers would count or would be funneled with fewer numbers against the Loyalists' greater numbers. The Loyalists would also be choked if they tried now to pass that latteral, but Zsaekriel would deal with that later.

"Cease!"

The technician repeated the cease fire and the tanks stopped. They had done their first job, and they had instilled the thundering sounds of battle into all other parties involved. Whether anyone was able to see what made the sounds was a slim possibility. The Loyalists had only just passed the halfway point towards the center of the arc, able to see the western curve of the other side just past the center. But they were getting closer. Zsaekriel then lifted his own comms back up close to his lips.

"March to latteral seven and hold position. Send a secondary team of snipers to grid 0-4. Fill that hole. Send a unit to grid 0-6. I want eyes on the forrest, and eyes over the hill. Move!"

The voice of the late Imperial Knight-Commander La Rouge confirmed the order. Ten rows back from the front lines, twenty-five soldiers making up the first line, then increasing by fifteen each row, she began enacting her orders.

"Lieutenant! I want three snipers in that hole! A unit; two snipers, two rpg's, and three support on that hill!"

The first battle field lay ahead. This center field, just outside of the forrest, was almost an open valley with lifting and overlooking hills on either side. She had first pointed to the trench just created by the tanks, for the three snipers to enhabit; just underneath the farthest hillside. The lip on the back-end might even conceal them from the Sons and Daughters's view, while the front lip was enough to take cover in from any angle. The trench itself might even be completely underneath their sightline and unnoticeable until their troops and vehicles fell into its trap. Then she pointed to the opposing hillside. The small unit of seven would sit nicely ontop of its cover, laying down belly-side to keep out of sight and out of harms way. Each team would be at the two points furthest away from the forrest. They wouldn't make it easy for anyone to come out of there. The unit would easily make its way to their lookout, but the three snipers would head to the furthest line of movement along the west, then head along that edge until reaching the trench. The Loyalists' main forces would head straight along the curve of the arc until reaching that hillside, then stop just there before heading over it and into view. The front line of twenty-five would lessen by two as those two soldiers would flatten down and see what they could.

It had begun.

 

[Prancing Yawn]

Zsaekriel's forces fired the first shots. Blank and his generated forces watched as the projectiles flew overhead, a violent whir blasting over the Jedi Master's senses from the sudden sound of artillery. Soon the two main armies would meet in the middle - where Blank would be prepared.

I want one saboteur in each of these trees, fifteen feet apart, stealth systems activated - all except for four.

The Maverick saboteur fighters began climbing into the trees, nesting in them between the branches. Blank jumped off of the barrel of the artillery piece, making a soft landing on the earth. In a blur, he sped in the Force towards some of those trees that his men had not climbed into, and cleaved his saber into them, cutting them clean off at the trunk. In a couple minutes, he had gathered a few of these logs, and now began lifting them with the Force to face where he sensed Balthazar to be, creating something of a barricade, the logs arcing into something of a half of a circle. At the front were three logs stacked in a pyramid shape to make the main barricade, and one tree at each end came at an angle off of the main three logs.

I want our heavy artillery moved behind those barricades. I want our infantrymen to move into formation behind the logs, and a couple squads to face the other hill[the direction where Zsaekriel's forces marched towards], taking formation in the treeline. I want an equal amount of snipers covering each direction, let the front infantry cover you - if you find a target, tell me immediately; do NOT fire.

Blank then walked towards the extra four saboteurs, still clutching the hilt of his lightsaber in his right hand.
I want three of you to depart (in the direction the barricades face). Atleast one of you try and get inside their ranks. One man stay behind at all times and relay all their activity to me. Withdraw immediately if spotted.

And I want you to sneak (the direction of Zsaekriel's army), and keep an eye on the area. Relay any activity back as you see it.

Go. May the Force be with you.