War-forged and omnipotent.

[Seaburn and Lights]

Familiar repetitions of metal and cloth matched wisp to wisp with each trodden footstep through the treeline as Cinders and his Lima flight moved with a deadly quickness. Sunlight shot across the sky from east to west, creating tangible rays through the foliage all around. Night fall was within a literal arm's reach and the time to move between tree lines through open ground was nigh. The night stalkers from Defiant Squadron were calculated, and their commission was indeed bright in ironic contrast to their devices.

Border Alliance high-value-targets had been assigned and tasked. Down from the chain had rattled tonight's scheme, but not without a steady hand to ring the kinks and knots. Doubt was eliminated, as was fear, from Lima flight. Insurgents would quickly find out like worms to a bird how hunking down in unfamiliar territory was the least responsible strategy against the might of a serene fighting force.

Celanon's sun had fled in fear of Cinder's volatility, only to hide from the havoc he was capable of when given a clear line of sight to his ends. Staggered, the activation of equipment clicked like dominos- Click. One. Click. Two. CLICK CLICK CLICK. Three, four, and five. Thus granting vision of the night in preparation of field to march.

Hand signals replaced words, but not due to stealth. Instead, Lima flight's focus was both with direction and speed, causing words to be a redundant liability. "Over yonder, to the next treeline.", one said. "Ready, move.", another. Hostile forces had been affirmed on this lonely, cold, and barren side of the planet. Therefore extermination had been ordered.

(OOC:) I would prefer a battle type thread as my first one on this site so far. Feel free to join if you are Border Alliance, Sith, or any other hostile threat canonically viable. I would also prefer no PC deaths within this thread, however fighting is totally welcomed.​

 

[Seaburn and Lights]

(ooc. This is still open and available for role-playing if anybody would care up join.)

 

[SirNoodles]

Spoiler: OOC

I'm not too sure if my character meets your description ("hostile threat canonically viable") but he is apart of a major criminal organisation. I, too, would prefer not to have my character killed but I'd enjoy a good battle and wouldn't mind if he broke a bone or two.

Amerath Candroon is sprinting as fast he can through the forest, vaulting or avoiding any rock, tree or any sort of obstacle. He is becoming slightly tired as he has, for a while, been pursued by unknown forces. He was committing criminal offences so his guess is that they are some sort of law enforcement team willing to take out or arrest any criminals. But Amerath really doesn't care. All he cares about is escaping this pursuit to live to die another day. After all that is mainly what his life consists of...

"Sh*t!" yells Amerath as he trips over a small rock. He, however, stumbles and continues running but this time with a slight limp. Doesn't matter really... the limp won't last for long.
After gaining hope and evidence that he has lost his pursuers, he dives into cover behind a tree. There he hurriedly slips his shoe off just in case his pursuers are nearby and ready to take him out. He then, still maintaining the speed and hurry, examines his foot in which has no sock as of now. His toe seems to have a little dark purple mark and that is where most of the pain is being caused. It definitely has a fracture at the least. Ah well... he's had worse. Suddenly, in the fields from nearby a marching can be heard. Without bothering to get his shoe back on, Amerath does his best to scurry up the tree.

After reaching the top of the tree, he winces as he sees and feels the pain of the cuts from the tree caused on his bare foot. He then peaks through the leaves and squints in order to see a massive patrol marching through the fields beneath the night sky. Amerath is wise enough to know that this can't be fought out and the best thing to do is wait the patrol out, return to his ship and fly away.

 

[Seaburn and Lights]

Onward to the edge of trees, bushes, and leaves, the element made its way as a file. In front, the team leader was Cinders himself. Second came Sergeant Anniston from the planet Tython as Grenadier. Third in the formation was Private First Class Jurosk from Alderaan as automatic rifleman. Fourth was Private Carnath, originally hailing from the bustling world of Coruscant as rifleman and rear guard. The fire team moved with a quickness, and minute rays of infrared extended outwards from their weapons. The light brushed against and touched the faces of foliage with a "Hello, goodbye." every footstep or breath that was taken. The file was an age old formation, completely orthodox and unassuming for the most part. However, Cinders has never thought inside of the box nonetheless fought fairly. Trailing behind and staggered from the file was another. Blanketed by darkness' cold grip was a figure, stealth field engaged, and void of infrared. Manning overwatch, equipped with a sniper rifle, was Sergeant Montisiclo. A Duros.

Night vision granted contrast from light and dark, added depth, and lent superior understanding to the team's vision. Attention to detail is key in anything that is done, no matter how large or small the task. Such training had made the unnatural crystal clear- things such as broken twigs, paved over grass, and torn away bark from trees were like boulders and brick walls. Into their helmets whispered, "...See it?". "Affirm.", retorted back through the comms like a feedback loop. "Up top, overwatch position keep sharp.", followed by "Make your move." were the next to slip from Cinder's raspy whisper.

The file continued forward, creeping slowly, nonchalantly, idiotically, and even absent-minded in the direction of the unidentified until finally the drums of footsteps were looming beneath them. The sounds of crumpling leaves, grass, and bushes were to distill anxiety nondestructively. As heart beats hasten, hearing dissipates, palms are transformed into a clammy liability, and breathing is precise. Exactly the point?
As the team began to pass beneath the limb, the feeling of blaster barrel would accompany the persons' soon to pass anxiety along with the chilling whisper of a man. "I dare you to move.", it said. "No lightsaber, scoped pistol... ERR- No shoes. Built, white human male. No threat.", rung through the team's frequency...
​

 

[SirNoodles]

"I dare you to move", Amerath hears. He swallows as his throat feels sore - probably due to his fear of being caught. "No lightsaber, scoped pitol... ERR- No shoes."
Amerath has heard enough. He knows they have a visual on him. He then stands up, doing his best to maintain balance on the branches and laps onto another tree. As he reaches it, he manages to grab onto a branch and pull himself up. He uses his toes to help get a decent, effective grip on the branches and he starts jogging on them. He then reaches the near end of the tree he is currently on. Not far behind are the soldiers. Amerath then leaps forward once again but this time his hand just about misses the branch. He ends up grabbing onto a leaf instead. The leaf is on a twig which, of course, isn't strongly attached to the tree. Amerath then pulls off the leaf and twig, therefore losing any grip on the tree. He falls onto the floor and lands on his back. Fortunately he lands in a pile of leaves and long grass in which he hides himself within.