The Battle of Coruscant -- The Galactic Congress Hall

[Ender]

Colonel McNamara moved forward, determination in his eyes, purpose in his step. War was upon them. The end was here. He could see the enemy in the distance. Quickly coming closer. The Imperials were cutting through the defenses like a hot knife through butter. The Colonel grunted, drawing his blaster rifle and assuring that it was on. In the atrium stood the first line defenders. These were his kind of troopers. Rough and ready, cowboys, cavalier attitude. But they all had a purpose: the defense of the Senate Hall. Alliance Command said it was to ensure the evacuation of the Senators from the Senate Hall. McNamara knew this was a futile effort, the Sith were destroying the shuttles just as fast as they could launch the shuttles out.

But McNamara also knew that in order to keep his troops, well, in order they had to believe their mission. McNamara had his own mission: to absorb as much of the Imperial Resources into this battle as possible, to keep them out of any other battle. Clambering atop a crate, he waved the defenders around him. "Soldiers! Today, is the-" an earsplitting explosion ripped apart the fabric of reality, and McNamara felt himself thrown across the room. A white, blinding pain tore apart his head and he slipped away into nothingness.

The war was gone. He was at home. His wife was making him dinner. He smiled, reaching across the table and taking her hand. She returned the smile, squeezing his hand. He took a bite of the dinner, some sort of foul, and nearly gagged. Something was wrong. Looking down, he found that he was biting into something red and oozing. He jumped up in alarm, dropping the fork. He looked over at his wife, and saw that she was dead and decomposing. Dread overtook him, and he fell to his knees. "No..." Niles whispered to himself. The walls fell away, and he found himself surrounded by chaos. Women screamed, running from stormtroopers. Children lay dead in the street, something was eating them. It had no face. And at the top of a throne of skull, a dark figure lorded over it all.

Colonel McNamara's eyes flew open, and he bolted to his feet, scooping up his rifle. All around him wounded soldiers groaned, or bemoaned the loss of other troopers. "On your feet, remember why you are fighting this evening!" rain was falling through a hole in the roof, and McNamara looked up, finding solace in the gray skies above. Lookin at his men once more. "Let these rains cool the fires of hatred, keep the flames of chaos at bay!" he cried, turning to look at the men around him. "Take heart, the people of Coruscant will remember your name for an age!" Niles cried, raising a fist to the air. "Don't give in to the Sith, my brothers! For home! For family! For planet! For the Alliance! We will not give in! We will fight to the end! Let this war end when the last soldier leaves their post, onto a better world!" turning towards the entrance, he saw none other than the Chief of State, armed with dual blaster pistols, march off towards the enemy lines. He turned to face his men once more.

"Our own leader, a politician, is leading the charge! What does that say of you? That no man must be spared of combat! That no person will be untouched by this war, no family untainted by the stink of the Sith! We must ensure that our leaders live on, to take the fight back to the Sith! To retake our worlds, from Coruscant, to Alsakan, to Bothuwai, and to Bastion! Our cry shall be heard, today AND tomorrow!" McNamara turned, and ran forward, crying out "Onward, to glory! Forward, to become tomorrow's legends!"

McNamara exited the atrium, just as Nathanaeu fired point blank into the Dark Lord of the battlefield. McNamara's skin crawled at the sight of the Sith, but he was not McNamara's enemy. Instead, McNamara was the one to fire the first shot into the Sith troops, just as the leader of the Galactic Alliance was pulled from the battle. "Cover the Chief of State!" the soldier roared, letting loose a burst of fire into the Imperial troopers. "Vin, Jay!" he cried at two nearby NCOs, letting down heavy surpressing fire, "Get Bastele!" he ordered, and the two NCOs sprung into action, each followed by four troopers. Jay got there first, and launched himself at the Chief of State, grabbing for his collar in order to pull the Hapan back to safety.

"I'm sorry, sir!" Vin cried, over the roar of battle that erupted around him. "Colonel McNamara's orders!" the squad of troopers made a defensive line around Bastele, their one and only priority at the moment to pull the politician off the battlefield.

Colonel McNamara himself ran forward, arriving next the Hapan and yelling into his ear "That was reckless as hell, sir!" then he clapped him on the shoulder. "Good job! Let's get you the hell out of here!"​

 

[Nor'baal]

Things changed quickly in war. Far to quickly. A few minutes ago, Mak had been escorting a senator to the shuttles, and now he had to deal with a full blown incursion, lead by none other than a, no THE Sith Lord. He needed to save as many people as he could, including himself, in as little time as possible.

With the arrival of the Jedi Grand-master and Bastele, Mak was actually rather thankful. It gave him more than enough time to do what he needed. If the Senatorial records where deleted then the Senators themselves would be considerably safer in fleeing the Sith. Mak made up his mind, he would Order half the Guards to re-locate to the main Hall, to cover and assist the Jedi and to cover Bastele, the other Half would hurry as many Senators as possible to the Shuttle, whilst he went to the Senate Security Control room, and downloaded the Senatorial information the room stored.

Turning to his charge he nodded respectfully and said ''Senator, as you are no doubt aware, the situation has escalated rapidly. As such, Guardsman Thrak here will take you to the Shuttle, I must co-ordinate our efforts and save as many other senators as possible.''

He took his leave, and walked out of the room, going upstairs to the Control room as swiftly as possible. He opened the door, and sat down in the control chair, bringing up the displays.

Senator Names, Locations, Funds, everything he could he placed on the secure information stick around his neck, and then deleted from the hard-drives. Mak looked up at the main security feeds, noting Basteles comments towards the Sith. He smiled, such an attitude may help the moral of the men a lot in a time like this.

He focused, monitoring the stream of information being downloaded and deleted, and then flashed his eyes to the timer. 5 minutes, 5 minutes until it was complete, and he could get to the Shuttles.


4:59

The timer counted down.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

He didn’t expect to be pulled back by his troops. Sigur lunging towards the Dark Lord was expected, of course… well, perhaps not entirely expected. Bastele willingly put his life into the Jedi Master’s hands, but the lack of trust between them wouldn’t let him fully trust Sigur. Maybe Bastele was wrong about the Jedi. Maybe they could be trusted, at least somewhat. Sigur still made the choice to flee but, when presented with the necessity, he stood and fought alongside his political enemy. There wasn’t much more one could ask in the political arena.

As Bastele was dragged away, he noticed the singe where the Dark Lord’s lightsaber ripped through his pant leg, just barely missing the flesh itself. At least I wasn’t wearing my awesome white shorts today, Bastele mused to himself, deflating the tension at least in his own mind.

When he finally got back to his men, away from the unfolding duel between the Dark Lord and the Grand Master, Bastele looked at McNamara and said, “I’m not going anywhere, Colonel.” He stood up as he continued to talk, “If the Alliance is making its last stand here, then so am I. The little known secret about heads of state is that we’re the expendable ones. You can always elect more.”

Bastele stood up, and continued, “So until we die, we save as many people as we can by killing as many of these sons of bitches as we can."

With that, he turned back towards the enemy forces again and fired. "Fire at will!"

 

[Dmitri]

Geist Weiss had to admit that if the men and women here had something, it was courage. Combined with stupidity. But courage all the same. Not even fake panic spewed by the illusionist had been able to break the Alliance's stride.

Any doubts Geist had about Merlin's status as an Imperial Knight were mostly washed away. Either he was the real deal, or a very obsessed fan boy who probably didn't leave his holopad often. Considering the strength he emitted into the Force, Geist suspected the former.

Cane decided he would need to remain close to the Chief of State. If cowardice wouldn't work, he'd need to personally show bravery, like the soldiers that encompassed Bastele. Picking up a rifle, he jogged over to Bastele and McNamara. "Count me in," he said in Cane's voice. "I may be weak, but the Imperium will rue the day they think our nation weak. We stand together, united, not out of fear, but out of the desire for freedom and justice." The last part sounded more determined than he meant to. Deep down, he wished the Imperium could be managed that way. Unfortunately, peace was only stable when a single strong will existed in the leadership, and sometimes fear was a necessary tool.

The Sith-diguised-Senator faced McNamara. "Colonel, I think I saw a Mandalorian on one of those Baskets-I mean, uh, Basilisks. Could you try to take him out? I've heard stories about them. Unless we take it out, we'll be taking on more casualties than we'd like." Indeed, Geist thought. I can't have all of you dying on me. I need some prisoners to question after this is all done and good.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

Bastele listened as Cane Es Cade gave his rousing speech. It was courageous, it was inspiring...it was all wrong. Something didn’t feel right about it. The Chief of State had heard the story that the Prince gave of his escape from Empress Teta after it was attacked by the Sith. The tale was that the Prince dressed as a commoner and fled, escaping the Sith so he could safely arrive on Coruscant. He abandoned his people for the safety of Coruscant, however fleeting that safety may have been.

Yet now he was standing here advocating what might as well have amounted to a fight to the death, the last stand here on Coruscant. Die as a fighter or die on your knees. Bastele didn’t know why he had a suspicion about that contradiction, but it was one that gnawed at the back of his mind.

“Well said, your highness,” Bastele said, nodding his head to show support, yet he wasn’t about to take a watchful eye off of the Prince of Empress Teta.

 

[Jaqen H'ghar]

Merlin came crushing down like a hawk onto a snake. His strike so quick the first Sith couldn't follow well. The sith lost an arm and leg in quick succession and was pushed far out of the way. The Imperial Knight brought his blade around in time to block the crimson blade of the other sith and pushed him back with a kick to the groin. The stunned sith momentarily lost concentration which was all the Vapaad master needed to plunge his blade through the neck of his enemy. He knew there would be more of the usurping brood in the crowd and turned to face his enemies while shouting back at the group of detained senators. "I would run if I were you lot! Get to the halls, there are shuttles coming." He used telepathy projecting it into the minds of the previously detained.

The Knight Marshall cut a silver path through the non-force sensatives with relative ease, his arms moving in such a blur, appearing at times to have seven or eight lightsaber blades moving in the blender of death. What was more disconcerting was the smile Merlin had on his face. Some part of him was enjoying the combat. Vapaad was an interesting skill, requiring you to sprint alongside a dark undercurrent. It was perfected by the jedi many many years ago, but today Merlin showed how an Imperial Knight could wield it against his most hated enemy. When he stopped he was near Bastele. "Rousing show you put on sir." He greeted deflecting a few blaster bolts here and there. He looked at the man from before, the Prine. "Ah, still around ey?" He spoke as his aura of force Valor shone out over the group, the lightside strengthening the leader of the former galactic alliance and his men and disagreeing greatly with the presence of the darkside from all the sith around.

 

[TAC]

Senator Glegor did not respond to the Senatorial Guardsman's comment. The man rushed off to do this or that, but the Khil simply didn't even notice. He stood, transfixed at the brilliant display by those below. Although he watched it from a viewport high above them, looking down, he could feel the energy. There was shatterproof glass blocking him from the smell of fear, lightsabers, and blaster bolts, but he knew what the air smelt like during these engagements.

Several things happened at once, but the Senator simply stood, waving the second Guardsman away. "Thank you, Guardsman, but I will be remaining here. Please escort the others to the ship." There was little point at a debate with a Galactic Senator, especially the Chair of the Foreign Relations Chairman, and so the guardsman simply took his leave. There were others around the Senator, if he needed protection.

The Khil knew that they would stop little of the upcoming onslaught, however.

And he would remain there to watch.

 

[Ender]

Cue Epic Music

A Basilisk war droid is less like a droid and more like a Rancor. A Rancor with lazers. And missiles. And pulse cannons. Basically it was one of the most terrifying presences on the battlefield next to a Sith Lord (Strangely enough, ALSO present on this battlefield). None the less, when Colonel McNamara formed a platoon sized element of troops to combat the MandalMotor threat, they heeded the call. Unsurprisingly, each was a Red Hand volunteer. Not a single Army Regular was in sight. This would be for the better.

Maybe it was arrogance. Maybe it was ignorance. Colonel McNamara, as he affixed his own bayonet, figured it was a combination of bravery, ignorance and sheer stupidity. With a good deal of bravado mixed in. Even so, as he affixed an old style whistle to his mouth, one of his Lieutenants grabbed his arm and clocked him across the face. A smart move on the junior officer, as nothing else would have stopped the aged soldier from leading the charge. The Lieutenant, a Zabrak named Tritol, took the whistle from the dazed Colonel, put it to his own lips and blew. He wasn't sure what the Mandalorians would think as they saw an old school infantry charge take place straight towards the Basilisk. Lt. Tritol figured they'd be impressed by the move, being Mandalorians. In a former life, he'd studied their culture. He knew their ways, and assumed (Correctly, I might add) that they would be not only be taken as amusing, but would be respected by the Mandalorians. It was a fool hardy move, but any move against an enemy of that magnitude would be so as well.

So, with pride in their hearts and fear coursing through their veins, the soldiers charged, hollering loudly. Some shouted things like "For the Alliance!" or "For glory!" others simply growled or yelled incoherently. Vin, one of the NCOs who had previously assisted in recovering Nathaneau, was silent. The only sound he made was that of his breathing against his helmet. All of them had vibrobayonets affixed to their rifles as they sprinted towards the hulking droid. An Imperial trooper appeared in front of Vin and, like years of training he thought he'd never use had taught him, he yelled viciously,slashing across the chest and stabbing towards the throat. The soldier went down in a heap. They were closing on the Basilisk.
​

 

[Silverface]

The colonel was right. Echoylir paused and blinked at the platoon of Alliance infantrymen charging him with bayonets. Bayonets! Having taken on a Krayt Dragon with naught but the beskar sword strapped to his thigh, Echoylir could easily associate with the reckless bravery this required. Had he been in the Alliance officer's shoes though, heavy weapons would've done a better job than charging to engage a Basilisk in hand to hand combat. The Mandalorian craned his head up, looking to his left and right at the roomy space he was in. Imperials, both Army in their plain grey fatigues and Stormtroopers in their garish white blaster resistant plates, flooded past him. Echoylir shook his head.

He was no sadist or honourless di'kut. He was a warrior borne of a tradition that stretched back into the mists of time. But these Imperials were getting in his way, and the Alliance soldiers coming towards him had to be taught the lesson their error had brought about. The Basilisk brought itself up with it's repulsors as he nudged the controls, causing the heavily armoured war droid to hover a meter off the deck. The array of weapon ports on the nose of the droid thrummed. A swathe of Imperial soldiers were clumsily charging at the charging Alliance.

This would not stand. With a crackling, smoky roar like a beast of myth, the Basilisk's nose mounted flamethrowers sent forth a billowing tide of heat and flame, searing the Imperials from his path, their screams drowned out by the sound of the flamethrower array. Echoylir held down the firing stud as the flamethrower's fuel reserves ticked down in his HUD. With a nudge on a control yoke, the Basilisk's head twitched, aiming up and projecting the effective flame spurt up and arcing it down into the charging Alliance soldiers. For them, the fight was over. And luckily for the rest, Echoylir was done using the flamethrower array. He had the laser cannons if he needed them, but his missiles were dry.

As the smoke cleared and the air around the remaining Alliance soldiers stank of charred flesh and burning clothing( having killed about a third of the platoon and probably a company of Imperial soldiers... ), Echoylir could be seen standing on the back of his Basilisk, the hefty, archaic Mythosaur axe held over his head in a form of salute.

"Ni'morutar gar bid ash'amur!" he boomed out, his helmet amplifying his voice. "Fight well!"​

[ Translation: "I welcome you that die ( violently in battle )" ]

 

[Crim]

The chaos inside the Senate Hall was almost unimaginable. Sabers clashed, blaster bolts richocheted, cowards fled, ordinances exploded, and Konnor could have sworn he saw a Basilisk. To an untrained eye, the combat would be almost impossible to follow. It was a wonder the Senators weren't all being killed. Hell, it was a wonder friendly fire wasn't going on. The carnage inside was incredible. Unfortunately for the Alliance, Konnor was a Tarkin. And Tarkins lived for carnage. He followed the Sith Lords into combat with the 501st Legion, clad in their signature white armor. The descendant of the man responsible for the destruction of Alderaan commanding the legion of Stormtroopers responsible for Operation: Knightfall. In his spare time, Commander Tarkin liked to play Sabaac now and again. There wasn't a wampa's chance on Mustafar that he'd bet against these odds. He wasn't being cocky, but he knew probabilities when he saw them. Even if the Force was with the Alliance, this would be an ugly fight for them.

Despite the chaos, confusion, and high probability of friendly fire, the 501st calmly and metholodically swept through the Senate Halls. Announcing to his troops on their helmet comms, Commander Tarkin said, "Arrest senators. Kill anyone else in here who isn't an Imperial."
"Sir, there are women and children taking cover in here!" his Lieutenant Commander said.
"They had their chance to leave the district."

Just then, a trio of people caught Konnor's eyes. They looked to be from Naboo. One Gungan and two Humans. The humans seemed to be senators. The gungan turned on his heel and said, "No, no, bombad Stormtroopers! Keep you-sa heads down!" The humans cowered as the gungan shot at the legion. The men turned and opened fire on the gungan. Four troopers moved to secure the senators. As the 501st moved on, they approached the main halls. Lightsabers clashed in a red and blue flurry. "Snipers, take position. Take out any Jedi you can get a clear shot on. If you can't target a Jedi safely, aim for non-Imperials. Major Donnela, you are in charge of a batallion of troops. Sweep through the west wing and look for anyone hiding. Capture senators and kill the rest. Kara, you also get a batallion. You're sweeping through the east wing. I expect both of you to keep me updated regularly," Konnor ordered.

As the men moved out, Konnor ordered, "Heavy troops, cover those two positions," pointing at two vantage points. "If any non-Imperials go near this door, mow them down. Keep an eye on that Imperial Knight. He's moving quickly and he's very dangerous. I need some troops to remain with the heavy soldiers to back them up if the fight gets near them for some reason. The rest of you follow me," he said. Before leaving, he was contacted on his helmet comm. it was Donnela. "Yes, Major?" he asked.
"Sir, a Mandalorian is tearing the area up near us trying to fight the Alliance."
"Friendly fire?"
"Of course. He took out a company of Stormtroopers. Not ours."
"What would you expect?" he muttered before ordering, "You ask him if he needs help if the opportunity arises. Explain that you're from the 501st. Otherwise, stay away from the Mandalorian."
"Yes, sir."

Turning to his men, Konnor said, "Alright, men. Move out."

 

[TAC]

The Galactic Senator had, for many months, and many years, heard about the slaughter that happened on the front lines. The Sith, the Mandalorians, the Alliance- it didn't matter who came out on top, massacres and losses that crippled sectors had been an unfortunately common occurrence throughout the war. Never before had Senator Glegor seen it before his very eyes, however. The conflict with the Chiss was indeed a killing, but not nearly so many men died as the charge against the great Mandalorian droid.

Tears welled up in the young Khil's eyes, as he watched what he had so frequently heard about on the news, and so often read about it senatorial reports. To see it, however, on this screen and to hear the explosions through the walls was surreal. The being could no longer stand by and watch idly as beings from across their great Republic, many within his age range, sacrificed their lives in protecting him.

The Senator moved towards the blast doors of the security room, grabbing a blaster that was sitting on a desk while on his way. A senatorial guard stopped to move him, but the Khil shook his head. "I have stood by for far too long, guardsman. Thank you, though." Without another word, the Senator opened the doors, walked through, and heard them slam shut and lock behind him. He heard the clatter of armour ahead of the bend in the hall, and moved behind a support beam. A few Imperial stormtroopers rounded the bend, and Liile took careful aim, dropping one of them. The rest ducked for cover, returning fire on the concealed Senator.

 

[Ender]

"Don't stop moving!" the Lieutenant roared, just before being engulfed by flames. Vin made no move to disregard that order, in fact he may have sped up as the flames died down. Laser cannons ripped apart another third of the infantry, as they continued to charge bravely at the hulking droid. And finally, as the last of the Red Hands lay dead, it was Vin who reached the Basilisk. With a roar, he hefted a satchel charge containing four linked-five pound blocks of Comp 15 High Explosives. They were rigged to detonate within proximity of enemy armor. As Vin threw it with all of his might, he wished he was strong enough to chuck the whole thing, a full forty pounds. Sadly, he did not. Either way, 20 pounds of Comp 15 would easily damage the Basilisk if it made contact.

Simultaneously, Colonel McNamara roared at an AT squad to train their weapons on the Basilisk. "Wait for it, boys, wait for it!" he cried over the din of battle. "Hope to your Gods that that charge finds it target! And pray for Vin if it does!" The explosion would undoubtedly kill Vin upon detonation.​

 

[Dmitri]

As "Cane Es Cade" finished his speech, Bastele complimented the Cinnagaran in acknowledgement. The Galactic Alliance and Jedi began their counter-attack. Even the lone Imperial Knight was showing his worth by dispatching a Sith, who seemed chipper about the Cinnagaran's desire to stay. "I have a job to do, after all," the illusionist responded. As Force Valor swept across the Alliance denizens, the Sith let it smooth across it. He didn't resist it, as it would drain more energy and give himself away. Insted, he let it flow around him, departing he flow just slightly. It seemed to help the Alliance remnants though, demonstrated by bravery boosted in a tentacled Senator.

Geist then realized he had gotten distracted by Merlin's assistance. He had allowed himself to part from Bastele. A quick search of the battlefield located the Chief of State twenty feet away. Pretending to aim at a nearby Imperial that was shooting at Merlin, the alchemist moved the blaster into Bastele's line of fire. He knew instantly he'd likely be discovered, unless people were too distracted. It was possible, due to inattentive blindness discouraging the belief an ally had shot the man; they be too busy focusing on the ravaging Imperials, Sith, and a hyped up Mandalorian riding a Basilisk. As such, to account for such precautions, he had another hand on his lightsaber, though illusions made it appear as a concussion grenade able to be thrown anytime. He aimed and fired...

Straight through Senator Glegor, the tentacled Khil, as he started his charge. Geist cursed his bad luck. The Khil had ruined his surprise attack. The enemy would be on him soon, likely. He didn't even waste time to check on Glegor's status. He immediately fired four shots at Bastele.

 

[Brandon Rhea]

For a few moments, the Chief of State stood in stunned silence. The Jedi Grand Master and the Dark Lord of the Sith clashed in a duel for the fates of trillions while soldiers from each side rushed one another and fought in the great halls of the Galactic Congress, a hall that had stood for millennia. Bastele stayed behind with his men, just watching, in awe, of what was happening. He used to battles in Congress, but not like this. He never could’ve imagined it would come to this.

Suddenly he felt a great pain in his arm, and it knocked him down. He watched as three more bolts of energy flew over his head, and he looked right in the direction where they came from. The only person standing there was Cane Es Cade. Bastele winced at the pain in his arm, now realizing that he had been shot, and pointed towards Cade with his other arm.

“Traitor!”

The Chief of State knew that those around him would understand what that meant. Bastele slowly stood up, trying to manage the pain as he did, and called for a medic -- but only for a quick patching up. The entire time, he kept his eyes on Cane Es Cade. Bastele hated the Sith right now, he hated the Mandalorians, but he loathed a traitor.

 

[Jaqen H'ghar]

Merlin was busy fending off blaster fire from the chaos, attempting to keep anything aimed at the men firing behind him away. Suddenly he heard the Chief of State yell, and sink down from blaster fire. That wasn't entirely unexpected, what was however, was the words that he yelled 'Traitor!' A righteous anger swept through the Imperial Knight Marshal, and he quickly fed it into his mastered lightsaber style, Vapaad. Merlin moved without thought, giving himself over to the force, and to the thrill of battle. He quickly cut the distance using force speed and when the gap was closed with Cade his silver saber swung towards the left side of his opponent, wrapping a shot around at the traitors head his wrist moving in such an angle as to seemingly strike the back of the head with the last half of his saber. However as he followed through Merlin stepped to the right suddenly and his elbow swung up, causing what was once a shot flying for the back of his head from the left to carve directly straight through the middle of his opponent following shoulder to shoulder, should it hit. The Vapaad master moved quickly, the style famous for looking as though there were multiple lightsabers even though there was only one and to any onlookers it would appear as just that.

 

[TAC]

At the sound of blaster fire, it didn't take long for a few Alliance soldiers to find the Senator, holed up not far from the Security Center. It was a place of significance for the fight, as it was the eyes in the skies, and the troops were attempting to keep it well protected. The soldiers nodded to the Senator, who had by that time shot and killed two Imperial soldiers. He was an amateur, by every definition of the word, but they appreciated what he was trying to do- or perhaps, ore importantly, what it meant for him to be picking up a blaster and joining the fight.

He was charged with finding, creating, and supporting alliances of all gravities and importance. The man who led the diplomatic charge, turning a cheek even when the Chiss hacked off his arm and took him captive. For the Foreign Relations Committee Chairman to pick up a blaster, head into the fight and be willing to die for what the Galactic Alliance stood for, is exactly what people needed to see. They needed to stand together. Every one of them. And face this evil that was now devestating one of the most important planet in the galaxy.

Moving through the halls quickly, it didn't take long for Senator Glegor to find the main fight. Some of the most important people were here, interestingly enough. This was the center of it all. The Khil stood for a moment, wide eyed at the sight, before an Imperial blaster bolt wizzing by his head brought him back to reality. Moving forward, the one armed Senator raised his blaster, taking pot shots as he moved along towards the Chief of State. He reached the man and his entourage, opening his mouth to speak as just another bolt in the ongoing onslaught was fired, but this one headed for the Senator. It slammed into the Khil's back, ripping him off his feet, and throwing him towards the Chief of State. Several more bolts from the same direction flew towards them- two flying over head, one hitting the Chief of State, and two more slamming into the body of the Foreign Relations Chair.

The Khil let a little grunt as he lay, motionless, in front of the Chief of State who cried for help. The bolts ceased, an Imperial Knight dealing with the problem, although that was far beyond the Senator's comprehension for the moment. Liile laid their, looking up at the man who he had followed for so many months, as the sounds petered out and the vision of the Belnar Senator began to fade.

One Galaxy.

One Galactic Alliance.

One unity.

Shattered.

 

[Livgardist]

Through the smoke of fire and pandemonium that filled the sky above Coruscant, Gutterson saw a building roof approach rapidly. One engine damaged, he was flying on only one of the Claw's two regular engines, which made steering difficult. An emergency landing would be dangerous, even more so with a shuttle landed on the landing pad on the rooftop , already. But he needed to land and make repairs to the Claw. Only his skill as a pilot allowed him to land without destroying the ship in the process. He pulled the ship up moments before the landing gears touched the surface of the landing pad. A screeching sound ensued as they touched down, and pillars of sparks and even outright fire erupted behind the ship as its landing gear carved a way through the ground towards the opposite edge of the roof. It stopped just short of it with a violent jerk.

Gutterson exhaled.
"We have landed, sir." Jeeves said to his right. "Would you like me to make you some tea?"

"I'd rather take a blaster bolt to the guts, Jeeves." Gutterson muttered. He unbuckled his belt, stood up, and reached for his trusted R5 blaster. "Listen up. I need you to get the damn chaff release working, and see if you can repair the engine while you're at it. I want the Claw ready to fly when I get back, and we're going to need the chaff to clear those AA defense towers. I'm moving inside to take as many of the senators as I can with me. Once I'm back we're getting the ***** off Coruscant once and for all."

"With all due respect, sir, that's what you said last time we took on refugees. Then we accepted another contract to evacuate these senators. It seems contradictory to your last statement, sir." It was true. They had been spending the last week or so evacuating refugees under contract to the Galactic Alliance. Gutterson's employer, a colonel in the GA Special Forces, had now made it clear to him that he could no longer offer him employment and payment. Except for this one last mission. A dangerous one. A well-paying one. To fly into the warzone around the Congress Hall, and evacuate as many of the senators as he could. If at all possible, and more importantly, also the Chief of State himself, Nathanaeu Bastele. The payment offered for the job was outrageously large - for obvious reasons, as could be seen on the damage the Claw had taken during the insertion - but the payment offered to rescue the Chief of State was ludicrous. A sign perhaps of the desperation the Alliance had reached in the war.

"Nobody likes a smartass droid, tin can." Gutterson replied to Jeeves as he left the cockpit. He heard Jeeves' voice behind him reply:

"I shall consider this new information, sir. Thank you."

Gutterson shook his head as he opened the side of the Claw and jumped out onto the ground. The shuttle pilot, and several soldiers stared at him as he moved past them and into the building. He began to move through the corridors and stairs leading down into the building. The sound of battle could be heard below through the stairs. The thunder of hundreds of blaster weapons being fired at the same time. Screams and explosions. When he finally stepped out into the great assembly hall, Gutterson stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing. There were hundreds of people - Alliance soldiers, and Imps alike. Hell, he even saw what looked like a Mandalorian war droid beyond, creating pandemonium in the ranks of the Alliance soldiers.

All of them ready to fight to the death.

Instinctively, Gutterson crouched as he looked around. It wasn't difficult to separate the soldiers from the politicians - the amateurs - having joined the fight. And it wasn't difficult to recognize the Chief of State among those amateurs, whose picture Gutterson had engraved in his mind prior to the mission. The Chief looked to be wounded, but enraged and thirsting for a fight. That wasn't what Gutterson had hoped. He wanted an easy job - in, pick up the evacuees, and get out. It would make his job a lot easier if he didn't have to try to convince them to get out. He opened fire at a couple of approaching Imperial soldiers. Blaster lined up with his right eye, elbow sticking out almost horizontally to the side, calm, steady breathing, a controlled motion on the trigger finger. His blaster shots were precise and deadly, and each one cut down an imperial stormtrooper without fail.

After half a dozen shots, he lowered the blaster, and moved up to the Chief. Without invitation, he grabbed his arm totry to pull the man down into a crouch (Smaller target for the Imp snipers. No need to make it easy on them...), as he brought out a first aid kit from his right leg pocket. With experienced hands, he tore it open, and quickly wrapped a tight bandage around the man's wounded arm, though only after using a knife to cut off the sleeve and expose the wound properly. While he worked, he looked at the man, and spoke loud enough to be heard over the thunder of blaster fire, which meant he pretty much had to shout:

"The name's Gutterson. I'm an Alliance contractor, sir." He introduced himself. "I don't know if you know him, but Colonel Ridge of Alliance Special Forces Command hired my services. I'm under orders to evacuate you and as many senators as possible before the Imps take the building - and the planet. My ship is waiting on the roof. Will you come?" He finished wrapping the man's arm in a bandage as he asked the question. "I think the general idea is that you are too important to waste away your life here, sir." His voice was professional and somewhat emotionless, driving home the point that he had no opinion on the matter, personally.

 

[Dmitri]

Geist cursed his aim. While one bolt did hit the Chief of State, it was only the arm. Granted the pain would probably distract the politician a bit, it wasn't immobilizing. In fact, he had enough strength to be able to request a medic for the fallen Khil. At least he wasn't firing.

Unfortunately, while Bastele wasn't attacking, that didn't mean there was no threat. The man had summoned reinforcement with his declaration of a traitor in the Galactic Alliance's midst. The person to answer the king's call was the Imperial Knight annoyingly. In a way, it was his own fault. He had let him be preoccupied with the Chief of State he had neglected the Imperial Knight. As such, when the man arrived, it startled Geist. He immediately used the Force to pull himself away, but also Force Push the attack back. Focusing on his lightsaber during his retreat, he tried to swat the enemy's lightsaber away in case it got close. However, a feint changed direction of the attack and sliced through the blaster. He sighed with adrenaline coursing through his veins as it was only a couple inches away from his fingers.

Geist recognized the form. Vaapad. A dangerous technique against one not proficient in lightsaber combat as he. Keeping distance would be preferable, and for that reason, he'd need to be at his best. The Sith immediately discarded his stealth techniques. His signature in the Force immediately bloomed radiantly. His Cane Es Cade illusion wilted away. He brought on his Geist Weiss illusion just for a second, to allow for informal introductions. Finally, it too melted away to reveal an individual in a robed armor.

Geist began to power his stamina up so he'd be able to react immediately as Imperial Stormtroopers approached the area. One soldier eliminated some, though the four survivors who had been at the rear began shooting at Bastele and Gutterson; two had blasters, the other duo had a maser and a sonic disruptor, respectively. To provide some time both for himself and to occupy Merlin momentarily, he employed Dun Moch through dialogue. "I am no traitor, I'm afraid. I am Lord Geist Weiss. Who are you, Imperial Knight? I am curious to know. I rarely take my illusions down for anyone." The speech was polite, with a hint of curiosity. He made sure to null any hint of arrogance or vexation. With one hand still in front to guard holding his lightsaber, he used his hand hidden behind the cape to reach for his sonic blaster, a weapon he would employ if need be, though would prefer a Force Push first it charged.

 

[Silverface]

Explosions rapidly reduced one's options. And Echoylir's options were down to two. Sit there, on his impressive Basilisk, clad in his ornate armour handed down generation after generation down his family's storied lineage and become a rather nice collection of scattered atoms and kinetic energy. Or, he could get off said impressive Basilisk, hurl himself aside and pray to the myriad gods and mythic forces that apparently governed the galaxy behind the scenes for his own survival. He'd settle for losing a limb or possibly some other body part. They could always be replaced. The wonders of medical technology.

One option was more attractive than the other of course. And despite the temptation to become pretty colours, Echoylir threw himself from his mount as the satchel charge THUNK'ed against the hull of his Basilisk. Both he and the ( brave, stupid, insane ) Alliance soldier who'd done the act had gone in the same direction. Both clattering across the smooth marble flooring of this nondescript section of the Senate's halls ( Echoylir believed he saw a few signs that suggested this area was once an extremely mundane and boring part of the burgeoning galactic government ), skidding and sliding until the Alliance soldier came to a halt near a fallen pillar. Echoylir was less lucky, as the explosion that heralded the death of his cybernetic droid-beast engulfed him.

For a few long, disorientating moments, all Echoylir saw, felt and heard was fire. It was a primal thing, a force that shook and tossed him about like a ragdoll. His Mythosaur axe slipped from his grip as he was catapulted over several lengthy meters of ground only to land in a crumpled, smoking heap of metal, smoldering fabric and pain. Shards and shrapnel speckled his armour like metallic growths, studding his back and sides primarily.

"Osik" was all he managed to grunt out as the Mandalorian looked about as best he could, his HUD flickering and warping. His suit of armour, with it's myriad electronics, was ruined to a degree of non-functionality that was more of a hinderance than anything else now. Echoylir found himself chuckling as he realised what a fool he'd been. Swept up in the thoughts of glory that only youths should have. Hah! Thought himself a warlord for a few hours, a mighty warrior delivering the deathknell to a group of people he never truly hated or thought ill of.​

 

[Ender]

There was a sharp pain somewhere in his soul, and Niles raised his head in sadness, his eyes closed. Then, his eyes snapped open he raised his rifle and screamed "FOR VIN!" and they charged the wreckage of the wardroid, the elderly Colonel bending to retrieve a short sword from a downed soldier (Who's affiliation was unknown to Niles as he did not wish to look) he clipped his blaster to his rig and activated the vibrosword. He'd received limited training with the weapon, just enough to defend himself effectively and limited offensive moves. But he decided he'd inspire his troops more if he lead the charge with the weapon so he did so. They screamed, and there was a rumble of footing as soldiers took cover behind various debris. If they were going to go out, it would be with a bang.

Out of the rubble, arose a single figure. The Mandalorian who had once sat upon the Basilisk. He slowed his charge to a saunter and cried "Oh great warrior! Prove yourself!" placing the sword in his offhand in the meanwhile, drawing his blaster pistol with his good hand. He then fired three shots, before performing a combat roll to the right aiming for a shattered piece of the Basilisk.