From the Ashes | TSG

[Dutch]

20 hours into invasion...

The smell was incredible. Even through the permacrete walls of the corner store, Beel could catch the scent of burning bodies and scorched ozone. He looked over to the other survivors huddled within the tiny shop with him. His long time lady friend Laureen looked at him with eyes that simply couldn't cry anymore, clutching her young daughter that only stared off blankly into space. There wasn't much to see anymore as the sun had gone down what felt like hours ago, plunging the entire city in darkness.

"Oh this is not good man... game over! We're so dead! You hear that?! No more fighting! The soldiers are all dead! We're screwed man!"

Beel looked over to the panicky Balosar who's name he kept forgetting, the twitchy little man doing his best to see through the durasteel shutters that locked down the window. The alien continuously darted to look at the soldier who lay near the door, having been dragged in by the group of civilians when they saw he was only knocked out.

"Echoy bal utreyar!"

The Balosar jumped and flailed back, knocking over a pile of canned goods and cursing loudly as the foreign voice boomed from just outside the shop. Laureen's daughter screamed shrilly, making Beel and a couple other survivors flinch in fear. Surely the pillagers heard that, it seemed the antennae'd alien had been right. They were doomed.

"O'r ogir!"

In an explosion of glass and dust the front door came tumbling end over end into the store. The Balosar screamed this time, making to try and bolt past the form that suddenly filled the door frame. A massive armored gauntlet came out from the gloom to wrap around the man's neck, an audible snap following the shake of said gauntlet.

Beel watched in horror as the largest humanoid he had ever seen stooped into the store, the dead Balosar still held in one hand as the other clutched a massive metal war hammer. The man was completely clad head to toe in shining deep blue armor, splashed with the reds and other colors of what appeared to be dried blood. The monstrous man's helm turned down to the wounded soldier. He dropped the dead body and swung to bring the war hammer down on the unconscious man's chest, caving it in with an audible crunch. The survivors collectively cringed, staring in horror at the invader who's helm turned to Beel now.

"Duraani, burc'ya?"

The last thing Beel saw before the hammer smashed into his head was Laureen screaming as a newly arrived Mandalorian pried her daughter from her grasp, breaking an arm with a twist of their armored one to free the child. The last thing he heard as he lay bleeding from every facial orifice was a blaster shot and the screams of the child being dragged into the street.

***

[Res]

"Help them over there."

The Twi'lek shouted at a couple of knights that were standing next to him and Xierra. The Falleen Jedi was kind of the reason he was on the planet. Tov had gone to Seraphim to join the Blades and the next thing he knew he was on the planet Gargon fighting Mandalorians and saving people. He spotted a lone soldier pick up a small boy and try to fly away with him. The Master hurled a piece a building at the Mandalorian using the Force, the man fell to the ground unconscious. Tov ran up to the boy and a Master and his Padawan had see why happened and came to see what they could do. Tov gave the boy to the Bothan Jedi and his Padawan to find his parents.

With all the devastation around them he didn't kknow how so many was till alive. But he knew the enemy wasn't just going to stop at where it was. They had a grander plan, and it was going to be revealed soon. Tov had a bad feeling about the whole thing. He knew he should've declined the offer to come but he was a Jedi after all. Protecting the Galaxy and the Rebuplic was his job. Though they are protectors of the peace, now warriors. The Jedi weren't meant to fight a full fledge war. If this is just a small taste of what the new Mand'alor was capable of, then tthe Republic was in big trouble

Turning to Xierrra he though for a second. Be could pick up so much pain and suffering, confusion, and panic. So many senses were being picked up by Tova'nas. He couldn't concentrate, taking deep breath he spoke to the Knight.

"Alright, we need to get these people to safety. Start rounding up survivors that have medical expriance that can heal the wounded. Also I need.....

Just then be pick up a huge amount of pain and suffering. He took off at a run, not knowing if his companion had followed him or not. He reached the store but he was too late. The Balasor was gone and the people were gone that did this to them. Tov bent down and gently touched the Balasors face he was gone and he then moved over to the mother. She was barely with them be took her in his arms and held her.

"Save my daughter, they took my daughter."

The woman pleaded with the Twi'lek Jedi. Tov looked into the mother's eyes and smiled nodding in reassurance. With a smile on her face the woman breathed her last breath. Tov reached up and closed her eyes with his fingers.

(EDIT:Grammar and spelling)

[Thaddeus]

Arkoh and the Aegis had been tasked to moving garrisons between various planets and Republic installations in the outer rim. It was not an overly exciting mission, but it was essential as the Republic was desperately shoring up its weak points and securing the front line.

It was while unloading several companies onto Taris that the ship's holocommunicator flickered to life. The ensign manning the comms console nodded and jogged off the bridge, heading for the loading ramps where the captain was overseeing the disembarkation process.

"Captain! Urgent message for you from Mandalore sector HQ."

"On my way."

Arkoh strode alongside the ensign easily, the young officer quite afflicted with hero worship tried to mimic his gait, silently he wondered why the urgent messages. There had been no rumblings in any of the intelligence briefings he had been forwarded on, everything had seemed to grind to an eerie halt. The ensign broke his silent contemplation with a question,

"Sir... do you imagine anything is wrong?"

Arkoh turned his white eyes upon the fresh-faced Twi'lek, straight out of the academy, and who had heard all the tales about his new captain. Arkoh shrugged lazily as they stepped into a lift,

"I can't imagine that it would be urgent if it weren't." Arkoh offered a gentle smile as they stepped out onto the bridge, "But I am sure whatever it is we will be more than capable of meeting it, after all..."

The ensign laughed a little, partly to put himself at ease and partly at the sentence which he completed - it was a well known saying of the captain,

"Fortune when seized at the right time gives victory."

Arkoh nodded knowingly, and indicated for the ensign to patch through the message. While the ensign fiddled with some buttons Arkoh straightened his uniform and stood at attention. The holo of the Rear-Admiral for the Mandalore Sector flickered in blue before Arkoh who had snapped off a salute and now stood calmly.

"Captain your ship is to rendezvous at these coordinates..." A computer beeped registering the transfer, "... Once there you will receive further orders." The voice clipped the end of the sentence, as if saying that is all.

But Arkoh was not satisfied.

"All due respect sir, but I would like more information. Should I put my crew at ready stations prior to arriving, should I keep these companies I am unloading, a little more information could prove vital." Arkoh let his sentence trail off.

"I have given you all you need to know..."

Arkoh interrupted with coolly cutting tones,

"...No you have not sir, the more information I have at hand the better I can ready my ship and men for whatever is at hand."

The Rear-Admiral looked frazzled and nervous, and the calm questioning of this junior officer was infuriating, so with more feeling and nerves in his voice then the officer would have liked he answered Arkoh,

"We don't know more, captain!" Emphasizing the difference in rank, "All communications, civil and Republic, from Gargon have gone silent. We can't raise anyone. All available ships within rapid response range are being scrambled."

Arkoh's manicured brow furrowed, the two lines of white hair angling inwards, this did not bode well. Gargon was not far from Mandalore itself, yet it had managed to avoid any attack given that it was relatively unimportant... but if the Mandalorians had turned their attentions to it. Arkoh was silent, to surprise your enemy was to defeat him, Arkoh understood this maxim well. Indifferent features looked up at the admiral and saluted confidently,

"The Aegis will be at those coordinates within the hour."

"Thank you captain. Command out."

The holo flickered away, and Arkoh turned to the ensign who had heard everything.

"Get everyone back on board, then tell all the men to stand to, we will be at ready stations until we know exactly what is happening."

The ensign saluted, and then his voice rung out over the comms,

"All hands to stations. All hands to stations. Prepare for immediate take off & hyperdrive activation."

The message rung out in repetition while the Aegis gingerly left the ground beneath her, breaking the atmosphere, and once at a safe distance the stars became smears stretching before them. They arrived exactly as Arkoh had promised within the hour, and with everyone at ready stations, Arkoh reported the Aegis and her crew ready and able to the commander of the motley little fleet.

((Edited for spelling & grammar))

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

Edit for reference: Anthelion link

---

”So the Mando’ade have gone to Gargon, then, have they?...”

The captain of the Anthelion stood in her ready room, gazing out at the stars with her hands clasped behind her back, long tail flicking and curling. Behind her stood the ship’s chief of security, CWO4 Roshgar Sharish (a large and burly shistav, who was as silent as he was good at his job), and the first officer of the ship, Lieutenant Commander Tyros Elrune. Atop her desk sat the little ‘familiar’ droid who had been more handy than the captain would have cared to admit. Zharra, while calm outwardly, held a presence around her that spoke of both displeasure and anticipation at the knowledge. Turning back to the two men, she studied them silently through intense eyes, her ears perked as the farghul woman paced the few steps back to her desk.

”Mister Elrune, you heard the Admiral…we meet up with the fleet at the predetermined coordinates for formation on the double. Make battle preparations while we’re in hyperspace, and be certain that everyone is at their battle stations by the time we drop out. I don’t want to waste time on that before we make the final jump to Gargon.

Mister Sharish, see to it that we’re prepared for possible boarding, as well as refugees. I don’t want anyone where they shouldn’t be once we’ve got them aboard. Dismissed.”

With full faith that her orders would be carried out, the lithe woman turned her attention away from the men as they left her office. Diana, her familiar, was shifting around uneasily in a way that she had learned meant that the little droid wanted to say something. Sighing, she settled down at her desk in an attempt not to pace. ”Well? Go on, Diana, speak your mind and have done with it. I don’t have time to play about.” Perhaps that was a bit more harsh than she’d intended, but she really had no time to spare and the captain was anxious to be getting on with her duties.

”Oh, I’m…I’m sorry. It’s just…Zharra, dear, before we get to Gargon, don’t you believe we should test that headset?”

Hazel green eyes slid upward to look at the glittery little droid with that particular comment.

”…Why…?” The word was wary, the concept of that particular piece of ‘headgear’ always having made her uneasy.

…The strange little otter-droid shifted uneasily under the gaze, wringing her paws together as it (she) sat on her hindqarters. ”Well…” she started timidly, ”…because I might be more useful to you if you use it. O-only if you need to, though!”

With a frustrated sigh the farghul finally relented. The concept of the headset was…decent…and she’d done the testing, but…there was just something that put the farghul ill at ease about it. Even so, she couldn’t ignore the fact that having eyes and ears elsewhere in the ship could be very useful in this situation. ”Fine. We can try the dratted thing again while I go about my work.” Leaning down, she unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out the silver headset, settling it on her head so that the contact points touched her scalp before turning the system on.

The difference was nearly instantaneous (and more than a little sickening) as a flood of new information assaulted her. She squinted at the sensory overload as both parties, droid and farghul, attempted to sort things into proper order and lessen the strain. As clinical and organized as her mind was, as much as she had trained her mind to be as ‘computer-like’ as possible, she wasn’t a droid, and she didn’t have a processor for a mind…not one with circuitry anyway…and so the stream of information the headset was trying to filter into her mind through it’s biometric link was a bit much to handle at first. Slowly she began to acclimate to the new, two way, feed of information and she let out a long sigh. This was why she hated this damnable thing…

Still, she had to admit that, once all the overload settled into background information, her mind felt just slightly more freed up. It seemed completely counterintuitive, but…she supposed with a ‘secondary mind’ linked to hers maybe it wasn’t so far fetched. As Diana padded over, she’d pat the familiar a little numbly. ”Right, well…we’d best get to work too, hadn’t we?”

It wasn’t a question.

For the next hour the ship was a flurry of activity as it hurtled through space. Room was made for the influx of survivors, the med-bay was prepped for injured, the fighter wings were briefed (as best as possible) and set to warming up. The security force for the ship was out in full gear and everyone was to battle stations as the hulking Ogma-class frigate dropped out of hyperspace an hour later at the rendezvous point, Zharra standing calmly at her post on the bridge (Diana magnetized to the railing just in front and to the side of her), the mass of her ship sleek and bristling around the crew, prepared for any fight the mandalorians could throw at them.

”Mister Ryal, open a communication to the Rear Admiral in charge of this little get-together.” Her words were exceedingly calm, her lithe form standing as tall and elegantly as ever. If she had any misgivings about the chaos they were about to throw themselves into, she didn’t show it. Zharra was the very picture of stoic confidence. As the communication line was opened, she shifted her weight ever so slightly. ”Rear-Admiral, this is Ogma-class attack frigate Anthelion, Captain Zharra reporting in and awaiting orders, sir.”

She could feel the eyes of Roshgar on her from behind as she flicked the tip of her tail ever so slightly, listening to the orders she was being given from the man in charge. Secondary defense in orbit to protect those fleeing the planet, and shelter for those that couldn’t escape into hyperspace. It sounded simpler than it would be, no doubt. Nodding, more to herself than anything (since the admiral couldn’t see her through voice communication), she gave a simple ‘understood, sir’ before cutting the link. Resting one hand lightly atop the console at her station, the captain turned her head to look at her second in command, every line of her a composed collection of subtle physical cues that let her exude her seemingly unflappable confidence and unflinching will. No doubt the Rilan (and a few of the others on the bridge who knew her well enough) would know that this was purely a show she was putting on for the crew. Zharra knew, perhaps better than anyone, that a confident captain could gather and boost the morale of even the most scattered and fearful crew.

Zharra had resolved, long ago, to be that captain…no matter what she felt inside.

”Mister Elrune, see that we get into position in a timely manner, then see that the docking bay crew is at their stations and prepared for visitors and our jump coordinates are set. Mister Ryal, open the ship’s intercom.” As he nodded, she gave a single nod in return before speaking…

”This is your captain speaking. As you know we are going to be entering the battle zone above Gargon. The Mando’ade have taken control of the planet and we are being sent in to evacuate who we can from the ashes of the planet. Our primary role today is secondary defense behind the battlecruisers and dreadnaughts, to aid the ships fleeing the planet’s surface, and to take aboard those that will not be able to make it to hyperspace.

This will not be an easy battle.

The Mandalorians have the upper hand, and we are going in nearly blind…but we are going in anyway. To do less would be to leave these people defenseless, and we will not leave these people defenseless. Every one of you is a warrior every bit as good as them, and I dare any one of you to tell me otherwise. I do not have a ship full of timid and mindless sheep, I have something better…I have a ship full of the Republic’s best navy and marines.

If the Mandos think they have seen the best the Republic can throw at them, they are wrong! They have not seen us and they have not seen Anthelion! Force help any of them that cross us, because we will be the death of them!” She paused a moment for dramatic effect, her voice, having grown in intensity and volume over the course of her address fell back to her normal tone, though that intensity simply flowed like a swift undercurrent through her words, an almost lethal and dark undertone coming to them. Her tail flicked and twitched behind her, pupils dilating and constricting with her emotions.

”The Mando’ade have a saying: Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur. ‘Today is a good day for someone else to die.’ …I believe they’re correct. Today is a good day for someone else to die…Let it be them!

Protect yourselves…protect your crew mates! We are family, and family protects each other!

Prepare for Battle!”

With a nod to Tieres, she could all but feel the crew around her responding to her rally and allowed herself a slight smile and a deep breath, followed by a slight nod to herself as the comm. was closed. Behind her Roshgar rumbled a deep sound of approval…something between a growl and a dark ‘hmmm’.

”Now, Mr. Ryal, open a line to the…” She paused a moment, scanning her orders on the consol before her. ”…to the Aegis, if you would, lieutenant.” Waiting until the line was open she would continue to read over the short orders she had.

“Line is open, Captain.”

”Very good, Lieutenant. Captain Altunen, this is Captain Zharra of the Anthelion it is my understanding that we’re to be…partners…of sorts on this little rescue mission. Are you assigned for secondary protection detail or evacuation?” She hoped it was protection…for their sake. Landing a hulk like that frigate was asking for trouble upon take off from any AA weapons the mandos had…hell, even getting in would be dangerous…

[Thaddeus]

Arkoh stood easily with his white eyes watching the information that flickered across the holo in front of him; meanwhile the admiral continued his briefing of the situation, such as it was thought Arkoh the information they had at hand was rather meagre, the admiral's voice played out across the whole ship. His crew attended to their duties admirably, every now and then casting a glance over at their captain who seemed indifferent to everything. His air of indifferent confidence, which in any other time seemed insufferably arrogant, now put them all at ease somewhat.

Arkoh gently clasped and unclasped his hands behind his back, the Aegis' assignment was to make for the spaceport of Talusport or failing that to land as close as possible to the city. They would be one of the primary evacuation ships, indeed the Aegis was the largest evac. ship being sent down to the planet's surface in the hope to save as many lives as possible. It was not an easy task, still the admiral's briefing continued and as it did Arkoh brought up a map of Talusport looking for other landing zones outside the spaceport. He counted only 3 possible places where the Aegis could land, the smaller evac. ships could zip this way and that, but the Aegis would have to pick a location and hold for as long as they could. How to do that... his thoughts were interrupted by the Twi'lek ensign saluting audibly,

"Sir the captain of the Anthelion."

Arkoh nodded and the line opened to the delectable image of the Farghul captain, a roguish smile twitched at the sides of his mouth. Arkoh never failed to appreciate something beautiful, and now was no exception.

"Captain Zharra..." He nodded, he would have saluted but his mind had returned to the problem at hand. The Farghul's question provoked a slender white eyebrow to quirk and teeth to show, "Evacuation duty in Talusport itself."

Arkoh was confident in his abilities and his ship & crew, but that did not mean he failed to understand how difficult was the task ahead of him. He had to break the blockade twice, and on top of that successfully land & take off in an occupied city, and hold for as long as he could to evacuate any who could make it.

"The Aegis has two infantry companies to aid us in holding the landing zone when we make it..." There never was a doubt in the Arkanian captain's mind that he would make it, "...leaving us with roughly room enough for 800 or so refugees."

Arkoh rubbed his chin, and looked down as details about the Anthelion flicked across the screen beneath the holo. She was a great ship, far better equipped for ship-to-ship combat than the Aegis.

"Captain I don't anticipate too much difficulty in breaking the blockade when we arrive, the Mandalorians will be spoiled for targets..." Some of his officers winced when their captain said that, but Arkoh showed no sign of being perturbed. It was the nature of things, and more over lent him the opportunity he needed. "...the truly hard part will come when I have to break the blockade again to escape atmo, for that I am going to need all the help I can get."

Arkoh turned away from the screen for a moment and barked an order,

"Well captain may the Force be with us."

Final preparations were underway across the Aegis, the medbay was fully stocked and staffed, emergency medbays and cots were set up throughout the cargobay. Meanwhile the two infantry companies were doing final checks on their weapons and armour, sergeants shouted orders, lieutenants conferred and talked strategy, and privates went through the routines that calmed them. Meanwhile the Aegis' officers and ratings had the ship humming with activity, shields were active and being tested, bulkheads secured, strikefighters prepped and ready for launch, yet above it all the gentle thudding hum of the powercore reverberated - as if the ship itself was champing at the bit, ready to prove herself to the souls whose lives trusted in her durasteel hull and strong shields.

Arkoh meanwhile straightened his uniform, pushed his hair back, and rested both hands on the railing before the captain's observation platform on the bridge. As soon as the order came the Aegis would lurch forward, stretching the stars before them, and hurtling through hyperspace for Gargon. But for now the wait, everyone on edge, and their Arkanian captain calmly considering the battle ahead. Turning to his bridge crew Arkoh said simply,

"Remember one minute may decide the outcome of a battle, one hour the success of a campaign, and one day the fate of empires. Do your duty to the Republic and to this ship, and we shan't fail."

Some smiled, some saluted, some nodded, the young Twi'lek replied loudly,

"Fortune seized at the right moment gives victory."

Arkoh smiled, as did everyone else, at the young officers taking up of the captain's mantra. Leaning back on the railing Arkoh, and the Aegis, awaited orders.

((Edited for spelling and grammar))

[Dire Wolf]

Far below the schemes and plots of officers a single man walked the streets of Talusport with impunity. Crimson red armor glinted in the light cast from the sun that had been set high in the sky, as well as off of the glittering mass of shattered glass that littered the duracrete roads. A surprisingly small scatter-blaster had been held at his hip and quick fired at any hapless soul that passed his sight. Broken and blasted bodies littered the man's wake, some were the cadavers of the skilled Gargon planetary defense force though most were civlians that believed themselves to be a whole lot faster than they really were.

Twenty hours. Had Chorun already been up for twenty some odd hours? In truth it had felt more like twenty minutes. Yet, there was something missing. A certain challenge that unarmed civilians and untrained boys couldn't hope to offer. Chorun stopped in the center of the street with no warning. The trophy at his side seemed to burn against his beskar plate with that unsatiated ache for the ultimate challenge.

Chorun Bralor had just been about to turn around when his helmet's audio sensors detected distant blaster fire. At first he wrote it off as just another feeble attempt by the "defense force" to hold vode off from their position. After it's continuation past the first few seconds the anomaly captured his interest, but only after it's refusal to quit did his interest get fully piqued. That sawed off shotgun found its way to the magnetic hard-point at his hip as he prepared for liftoff.

A brilliant flame exploded from the thruster pack mounted on the back of the man's cuirass. The shear power of the personal flight device barely gave him time to look up before his stomach dropped into his feet and he begun to soar through the air like the mighty jai'galaar. From a distance the man may have appeared to be a stray rocket, but as he drew closer to the firefight below it would have become painfully obvious that he was no piece of ordinance.

The world below him was little more than a blur even as the blaster bolts turned upwards in the vain hope to swat him from the sky. Chorun shifted his weight downward to bleed elevation until he was a mere meter off of the ground that sped below him. He weaved this way and that, narrowly avoiding wrecked hulks known as speeders, blaster bolts, and even other vode that had been pinned down by a surprising amount of firepower. There were even a few Jedi to cause problems.

Perfect.

The republic had set up an evacuation center in the form of a wrecked building in the center of their perimeter. Surely it was full of simpering fools that hadn't the courage nor the skill to stand next to his vode. At any rate, he almost casually unmounted the detonation pack from his left thigh and readied it for the destruction it would cause. When his flight path brought him close enough to the evacuation center he chucked the permacrete det pack over his shoulder as if it were a used hamburger wrapper with the grin of a child playing with his toys.

Terror would have filled the civilians hearts as five pounds of high explosives fell through their window, only to detonate seconds later. A shockwave ripped through the streets, knocking nearby men down and sucking the wind from those that it hit. Another sight caught his eye: a lone twi'lek sprinted off into a random store.

More perfect. Each of the soldiers were in uniform, and this man was not. This meant one of two things; he was a ballsy civilian, or more interestingly, he was a ballsy Jedi. Chorun threw his weight towards where the man disappeared off to, and thus began the pursuit.

Chorun redirected himself so that his feet were pointed towards the store and the jetpack's power had been used to slow him down rather than speed him up. Fighting a Jedi was much harder with the "pink paste in the street" handicap, after all. After the flaming exhaust had finally fell into memory he seemed to float for a few moments, his beskar knee plates waiting to contact with the ground. Metal whined and sparks flew to either side of the man until he threw his weight forward into a roll, and came up on his feet just in front of the door.

"Tion'jor laandur, Jetii, gar ti laandur," he spat. Only the weak protect the weak. Perhaps this Jedi would prove to be more of a challenge than his peers. If not, he'd simply add him to the litany of notches on the lightsaber trophy that hung off of his belt for all to see.

[Jazen]

It had finally happened. The Mandalorians, one of the galaxy's most fierce cultures, had finally decided they weren't content with what the Republic had left them after the last war. They had finally attacked.

It was a surprise they waited as long as they did. So thought Tyros Elrune, first officer of the Ogma-class Republic frigate Anthelion as he stood with his captain and their head of security as the Admiral related the news to them. Between Roshgar's intimidating frame and Tyros's neutral stance, it was if the captain was the only source of life between two very still statues...two very silent and terrifying statues, that was. Tyros swore he saw the Admiral glance offhand to the pair of them once or twice before signing off; the right appearance did make all the difference.

As Zharra turned back to the two of them, Tyros shifted only as much as he needed to to track her with his eyes, shifting slightly as she took the place at her desk. He didn't really need to, her presence a light of determination and displeasure in the Winds, Roshgar a beacon that mirrored her determination and his loyalty to her and his duty. But the Captain had made it clear before that she didn't like Tyros using his abilities around her, much as that was impossible to do; he could at least look like he was trying.

The first part of her words were directed to Tyros mostly, as the running of the ship in such a manner fell to him outside of the Captain herself. Roshgar would be seeing to his security teams and ensuring that the personal were where they would need to be when they arrived; any delays could be costly, especially considering they didn't have all the details on what they were dropping into, short of that the Mandalorians had attacked Gargon such twenty hours prior and all available craft were being pulled in to assist.

With a nod of his head, Tyros's answer to her orders were simple and swift. "Yes Captain. We'll be ready/" With a quick salute, Tyros spun on his heel and vanished out the door of her quarters, his long strides and heavy steps carrying him down the corridors quickly. He nodded to Roshgar as they part ways to handle their tasks...and Tyros's first action was to head to the infirmary. Inside, the ship's small medical staff were milling about at various tasks, tending to minor injuries obtained through minor mishaps aboard the ship. Most of them spared him only a glance for a moment before returning to their duties...until he stepped up to Lt Quellita, their chief medical officer.

The blue-skinned Twi'lek was studying a blood sample when Tyros approached him, his lekku twitching atop his broad head. Tyros's heavy footsteps broke him from that, his dark eyes turning to the Rilan officer. "Ah, Lt Commander, a pleasure to have you join us. A rare thing it is, for you to come here out of the blue without prior knowledge. Got something wrong with you that needs to be found out? Or perhaps something a bit more serious, hmmm?"

"Much more serious Doctor. The Mandalorians have attacked Gargon and we're heading in to assist. There are expected to be refugees and many of them are going to be wounded. We need all your staff at the ready for our arrival and to prepare for an influx of wounded ranging from minor to serious. Estimated time of arrival is within the hour."

Tyros had pitched his voice so that it carried across the entire bay, that everyone present heard his words. The Twi'lek perked up at his words, the staff nearest to him pausing to gasp or look over in their direction. The rest merely paused if they could as the situation dug in for them. Athos twitched his head to the side for a moment, his lekku suddenly moving just a bit faster. The Twi'lek said nothing for a moment...then stood from his chair and turned to his staff. "Well, you heard the Lt Commander. We're about to be very busy. Lily..." Athos turned his eyes onto his second in command, the Wroonian Lily En'vir..""See that our current guests are patched up and sent on their way. Then get this place ready and any rooms nearby that we can spare; we're going to need the space I think. Alright now, chop chop, work to be done!"

Tyros didn't hear the last part of his orders, as with a nod from the Twi'lek, Tyros was already off into the ship. Every person he passed now he told to get to stations right away, informing them to pass the message along; he or the Captain would make an announcement soon but for now, they were to get to battle stations. He continued this all the way till his arrival in the hangar deck, where he paused the message onto the wing commanders to prepare their ships for combat action and await further orders. None of them needed to hear anymore; they were good soldiers and were gone as soon as he had finished.

Shortly after that, Tyros stepped onto the bridge, his footsteps echoing as he stepped up where the Captain's chair sat, the clearing of his voice powered by the Winds to draw everyone to be silent. Once the bridge crew had all turned to face him and silence had dominated the bridge, Tyros addressed them. "We've received new orders. Plot a course for these coordinates, the quickest route that can be found. The Mandalorians have attacked the planet Gargon and we're going there to do what we can." There was gasps of surprise, muttered voices, looks of shock on a few of the bridge crew...but they quickly reigned it in as Tyros continued.

"We have no idea what kind of situation we're charging into, other then its bad. So, we have work to do. I want every soldier and crew member at ready stations in the next ten minutes and the ship at full readiness to enter combat before we arrive. Have the flight deck cleared open as much as can be allowed, so we can accommodate the maximum number of shuttles possible. Every crew member is to make their quarters available for the refugees. And I want everything that's not strapped to the ship tied down; I don't want anything loose bouncing around while we have them aboard. Now then...get to work people. Those people are waiting on us. And get us to that rendezvous point."

The next hour was spent as the Captain had wanted, the ship going from its semi-content state after flying in the void of space for weeks with little to do in their patrols to a fully alert and ready warship as they dropped from the rip in space that was hyperspace to meet up with their fleet.

Moving to follow the captain's orders, Tyros stepped beside Jost, ensuring that they're escape route was set and prepared for after they arrived at Gargon. They wanted to be able to get in and out quickly...with any luck, things would go that way. He noticed the slight feeling of unease in the man and gripped his shoulder firmly; Jost gave him a thumbs up in return. A good sign; especially since his skills would need to be at their best today. Everything else the Captain had ordered Tyros had already double and triple checked on; they were as ready as they could be. Returning to Zharra's side, Tyros turned his gaze on the fleet before them as the Captain made her speech. A truly regrettable thing that has happened...and I fear that we are about to see the worst of it yet.

So it begins."

Tyros remained silent in the face of the slight cheer that Zharra's speech inspired from the crew, the determination and pride of the crew filtering to Tyros through the Winds. Say what you would about their Captain; Zharra knew how to inspire her crew. They would die for her...and her for them.

It was his job to ensure that as many as possible didn't have to do that. As soon as Zharra had finished speaking, Tyros stepped up and addressed the crew via the comm. "Alright, you heard the Captain. We're going to make the jump and here's what I want the second we're out of it. Bring shields to maximum strength, engines at three quarters ahead. Save full throttle until we absolutely need it; it will come in handy as a surprise to the Mando'ade. I want all guns ready, point lasers set up; there will be fighters heading our way when we get close. Fighter crews, prepare for sortie. 1st and 2nd flights, you're on ship protection detail. Protect any refugee ships coming up from the surface and our warships. 3rd and 4th flight, you're in charge of fighter to fighter combat. Keep the enemies off the others.

Lt Nevvan...synch with the fleet and jump to hyperspace on the Dreadnought's signal." And with that, Tyros stepped back to Zharra's side as she made contact with the Captain of the Aegis, folding his arms across his chest as he focused his senses, readying them for what was to come. "And off we go."

[Apillis]

From the viewing screen aboard the Conquest's bridge, Shannon watched entire cities and towns burn under Mandalorian fury. But the task left to her was a dull one. There she sat in her captain's chair elbow's laying on the armrests, her right hand propping her head up, one leg casually crossed over the other. She was donned in her Mandalorian armor as was expected, her kama splayed out under her legs, and her helm placed on her right armrest where left hand idly tapped her fingers upon its dome.

From the far corner of the bridge's view screen she could see the bulkhead of the Par'jila to the Conquest's starboard side. The two great vessels of the Mandalorian fleet side by side. The Tenacity, the vessel Shannon had once served as its XO under her predecessor to her position, she had the old Centurion-class battlecruiser hovering over the capital with several battle frigates and freighters knocking anything that was not Mandalorian out of the sky. Anything that managed to slip passed their web was then left to the blockade Shannon had positioned the rest of the fleet in, and would thus deal with whatever may have been lucky enough to evade the first gauntlet.

For that is how Shannon positioned the entire fleet, one armada lead by the Tenacity forming its own gauntlet. The entire fleet formed as two blockades set up to funnel escaping or even possible incoming vessels to have to go through them, forcing them to run a gauntlet of Mandalorian mass capital ship and warship artillery firepower alike each firing upon them relentlessly. Far more than once since Shannon set up her reinforced blockade upon Gargon, she has watched one fleeing vessel after another be utterly decimated as she watch the Republic civilizations be razed upon the surface below.

This was dull butcher's work for Shannon, yet she had always been a firm believer to prove oneself, fulfill the tasks given to you beyond expectation. Thus this blockade she had devised, while immensely heavy-handed for Gargon, especially in its current state, nevertheless anything worth doing was worth doing right. So time and again she watched vessels one after the other in futile efforts to escape the planet be broken and shattered to pieces--reduced to debris caught in Gargon's orbit, and by this point quite a bit of debris had begun to accumulate.

But as the debris of those who had fallen victim to the Mandalorian fleet's vile reinforced blockade had accumulated, so had Shannon's disinterest and boredom. Where was the fulfillment if she has yet to face a proper challenge worthy of her fleet? ...None so far.

Yet then there was instantaneous glimmer in the far off of the system that the view screens and monitors of the Conquest focused upon. Shannon arched a brow in curiosity. But it was in that moment the distant glimmer was revealed to be a Republic rescue operations fleet coming out of hyperspace. Slowly Shannon rose from her captain's chair--delight expressed clearly upon her visage as the images were then brought up on the large main holo-projector of the bridge primary console at the center of the bridge.

Her second-in-command of her flagship--one of her clansmen remarked as he too looked upon the large view holo-projector before them, "Ib’tuur jatne tuur ash’ad kyr’amur."

Shannon in response with a slight smirk replied, "No... not just someone else... but everyone of them..."

"Err... everyone of them,Commander...?"

Shannon abruptly turned to him as she got an inch from his face she exclaimed with all the manic insanity of a psychopath, "EEEEVVVERYONE!!!"

Her second-in-command shifted uncomfortably as her took a half step back, "Err-y-yes, Commander."

Shannon grinned with a cold demeanor, "And we're going to start by blooding that one right off the bat...", she uttered pointing to the great Origin-class dreadnaught at the head of the fleet.

"P.O.A., Commander?"

Shannon on the holo-projected warmap, she separated three Kyramund-type battleships from the fleet along with the Par'jila and the Conquest, "We are going to engage it directly, the rest of the fleet will maintain the blockade", Shannon explained, "We may lose some of our smaller vessels, but the few battlecruisers and battleships we have there should hold their own. Some of theirs may slip pass to the surface, which is fine--by the time they're making their evac' trip, we'll be back into position. Whatever loses we have will be acceptable compared to how much we'd have if we don't cripple that dreadnaught immediately."

One of the bridge crew manning the sensory command consoles of the bridge, "The dreadnaught has high-class armor and shielding, Commander."

"I know.", Shannon uttered thoughtfully, "We'll lead in with concussion missiles. Bloody it first--weaken its generators, then pound the hell out of it with every damned laser we have... I want to see that thing snap in half."

So it was done by Shannon's orders, the Conquest and Par'jila side by side while escorted by three Kyramuds split from the rest of the fleet, and without a moments hesitation--before the Republic rescue fleet even had then chance to fire a single shot--on the Shannon's mark, the Conquest, the Par'jila, and the three Kyramunds each fire their super-heavy concussion missile payloads until a combined grand total of near a thousand concussion missiles from all five vessels had been launched. The Kyramunds by Shannon's direction fired their missiles in the vicinity of the Origin-class dreadnought's bridge, while both the Conquest and Pari'jila fired theirs respectively at the vicinity of the dreadnaught's engineering sections.

The culmination of explosions of the immense proportion of concussion missiles fired was staggering, one could swear they felt the tremor of the explosions even through the dead of space. The area of the bridge had been completely tore open, and the complete port side of the ship had been utterly gutted. Massive chunks of debris peeled away from the vessel as it was knocked off its axis having utterly lost its stabilization. Certainly some of the concussion missiles had missed, while others were taken out by point-defense lasers, but the shear mass fired all at once more than what even that great dreadnaught of the Republic Navy could bear.

Shannon did not want to face it by exchanging cannon and turbolaser fire with it, she knew that sort of battle of attrition with any dreadnaught would be costly, especially with its shields and armor. Thus she sought to bypass the shields entirely, and strike right for its thick haul, therefore striking first at mass with an enormity of concussion missile fire. Hit powerfully right off the bat and then pound it into submission with cannon and turbolaser fire.

With the dreadnaught knocked off its axis and its bridge utterly destroyed, the supposed great beast was rendered near defenseless. It was clear to even the most layman of naval combat by the plain sight of it all, and so it was Shannon ordered over the communications of the five ships attacking the dreadnaught, "Pari'jila. Fire all proton torpedo batteries on engineering sections. Kyramunds. Concentrate turbolaser fire on the dreadnaught. Whatever shield capacity it has left--it's not much now. Conquest. We're doing the same. Fire at will."

But it was after that order Shannon turned her attention back to the rest of the fleet, "Tenacity.", she uttered over the ship's communications to the vessel's captain, "Ignore anything smaller than a frigate. Let the starfighter squadrons handle them. But any corvette, frigate, or freighter class vessel you see. I want your armada to add them to the collection of Republic debris we've already created orbiting the planet."

"Yes, Commander.", complied the Tenacity's captain.

"We'll rejoin the fleet shortly.", Shannon informed him before ceasing communications.

Hitting the dreadnaught so hard and so quick before the Republic rescue fleet was given the opportunity to react after they had just come out of hyperspace, was making a powerful statement to them.

((Edit: Fixed a typo or two... likely more though.))

[Mara]

[...from Changing Tactics]

Thrum, thrum

Standing in the middle of a war zone was the last place in the galaxy Xierra Zalq, Jedi Knight, would had wanted to be right now. But here she was, pale green blade spinning, deflecting blaster bolts from a pair of armor-clad Mandalorian warriors advancing on her, defending herself and civilians in Gargon's Talusport. The bolts were never-ending, and clasped in one hand, her nimble wrist never ceased movement of her lightsaber. A few of the ricochets found their targets, generally bouncing off armor plates, but she was more concerned with just dispersing the energy from the weapons away from the innocents in the area.

Thrum, thrum

She had arrived to the planet a week prior, needing some time to herself. To digest recent events: Makem Te and her injury; splitting with her padawan, devastating though amicable. The Falleen Jedi had previous come to Gargon after similar circumstances: a different battle, that time on Rhen Var; the loss of her first padawan. Days spent among the vibrant flora and fauna had helped her commune with the Force and divulge its purpose for her, and she had hoped for more of the same for her second visit. Relaxation and rejuvenation. So when the news of the Mandalorian invasion had reached her less than 24 hours ago, she had been deep in the jungles, meditating alone.

Xierra hadn't wanted to get involved in yet another war effort so soon, especially while still recovering. She felt torn in two different directions, opposite paths. But given her close proximity, she hadn't been able to convince herself to abandon the Republic and her fellow Jedi. Not to mention her peace would surely have been interrupted eventually if she had stayed any longer. So she had quickly and carefully made her way closer to civilization, skirting contentious areas, and found the slapped-together base of operations just outside of Talusport, meeting up with the other Jedi who had answered the call.

Dropping her pack and stripping off her outer cloak in preparation for what was sure to be a nonstop battle of her life and those of others, she had hid away her belongings. However, she had deigned to keep her spare lightsaber and fighting rods with her, the former clipped to her belt, the latter strapped to the small of her back. Xierra had then been paired with a familiar face: Tova'nas, a purple Twi'lek and Jedi master whom she had made acquaintance of recently on Seraphim. With a grim set to her face, she had ignited her lightsaber and followed the elder Jedi as they moved off to see where they could be the most useful to the defense of the city against the Mandalorian invaders.

Thrum, thrum...

Less than 24 hours later--it felt like 24 months to her exhausted body as she had drawn more and more on the Force to energize herself as it dragged on--they were still at it, but working at a much different purpose this far into the battle. No longer were they on the offensive, trying to take down as many enemy soldiers as possible. There were simply too many of the armored devils, and they quickly had overwhelmed Gargon's unsuspecting forces. Now she and the other remaining Jedi and few military forces were merely focused on staying alive long enough to evacuate as many innocent civilians as possible.

Patience worn thin and needing to give her weapon arm a break, Xierra's free hand stretched out to the Force. A chunk of rubble down the street that had been a restaurant before blown by the invaders shuddered in her grasp. With a grimace and a groan, it finally broke free and soared a few meters off the ground. With the exertion showing on her reptilian features, skin now hued more ashen gray than its usual green after the several hour's effort of battling, she managed to bring it close enough, and then released her grip with a gasp. It fell, crushing one of the Mandalorians beneath its weight; the other with armor shaded in deep blue managed to duck and roll away out of harm's way.

Hearing the voice of Tova'nas behind her then, she slowly backpedaled in his direction, her dark eyes keeping a wary notice of the remaining Mandalorian. Without looking back, she nodded shortly in agreement; it was what they had been doing for the past hours, once they had realized the tide of battle was no longer on their side. Holding the invaders off as much as they could while they searched their chosen area of Talusport for survivors and sending them off to find medical help and transport.

The blue-armored Mandalorian was coming after her now, and she had to switch her attention for the moment. She set herself, majority of her weight on her left leg, and moved to a two-handed grip on her hilt. With a deep breath and intake of the Force, she jumped ahead to meet her--she could see it was a woman now--and slashed and whirled her her blade with a wordless yell. Second later, she was standing in front of the female's hand-less, headless corpse, breathing  heavily. Xierra would had long ago been willing to put good credits on the Mandalorians being fiercer enemy than the dark side-using Sith.

Gathering herself, she turned around to look for the purple Twi'lek Jedi master, belatedly realizing his words had been cut off. He wasn't dead; she could feel his presence as a burning furnace in the Force up ahead in a store yet standing. And he didn't seem to be currently fighting anyone, though she could feel a couple other beings nearby him. Xierra jogged forward, favoring her right leg, to meet up with him. To see what he had found and how she could help and to present a united front against any attackers looking to add to their body count. As well, the Falleen was unsure how long she would be able to hold up on her own without an ally next to her.

And that's when she felt it, like a punch in the gut. Pure hatred radiating through the Force. Not like the emotions she had learned to associate with the dark side; this was different. A moment or two later she saw the source: a red-armored Mandalorian had just landed in front of the building she had been heading for. Where Tova'nas was within. Setting her jaw, Xierra increased her pace, using the Force to shunt away the pain in her leg; she spun her blade in a couple arcs, the weapon thruming in the air. She hoped to break the devil's attention for just long enough to give the purple Twi'lek time to act. And maybe, just maybe, what was left of their combined strength could take the Mandalorian out.

[Res]

The Twi'lek gently laid the woman's head down on the floor. Ad he did this he heard a faint sound of a rocket heading his wah. He had lost his cloak some time after arriving on Gargon. His sabers hung on either side of his hips. The Master sense a large presence heading his direction. Was he spotted by a Mandalorian, or was ita sstray rocket from a antj-air gun that was aimed at the building. Either way Tov needed to get out of there as he stood and started to move out of the store be was greeted by a large man in red aarmor.

Instjncts kicked kin and Master Anas reached for this sabers. His single phased saber in his left as he is left handed, and his shoto in his right held in with the blade pointed behind him. Igniting the blades the single phase and shoto light up, cyan and teal respectively, and give readied himself. Up until today be had only read about the Mandalorian, he remembered them stealing the War Droid from the museum on Coruscant. But if you asked them it was liberating it. Tov guessed that calling it liberating made what they did seem and feel better. What he saw it has was a faction set out to take over and he wasnt going to allow them. The man said something in a language that the Twi'lek didn't understand. Being a Jedi Master, Tov understood many languages from all over the Galaxy but this one he didn't.

"Your campaign ends here. You're not getting off this planet. Not if I have anything to say about it."

During the briefing he had heard the armor tthat some wear are resistant to light sabers. So Tov took that into consideration as he planed his attack. Just as he was about to strike he saw Xierra limp up behind the man. The man stood at about the same height as the Twi'lek Jedi but with the armor, it gave him more girth than Tov. This didn't intimidate the purple Jedi. It just made him more determaned to stop him before anymore innocent people are killed. Grilling the single phase saber with his black gloved hand that hid his cybernetic hand. Tov was prepared for anything this warrior threw at him.

[Thaddeus]

The Aegis exited hyperspace surrounded by the dozen or so other smaller vessels that were going to try and break the blockade for the planet's surface. But no sooner had the stars become pinpricks of light once more did Arkoh realise that this would be impossible, what looked like the entire Mandalorian fleet circumvallated the planet twice over. Nothing larger than a shuttle had a chance of running the gauntlet. In the seconds it took Arkoh to realise this several battlecruisers lead by two great dreadnoughts broke off from the blockade to engage the rag-tag Republic fleet. The holomap seemed more red than blue.

Arkoh did not waste a moment, turning to his communications officer he barked,

"Inform the admiral that the Aegis shall be joining him in the fray..." The ship broke off from the groups of smaller ships, its two shuttles rapidly exiting the docking bay as it did, and made for the main engagement. "All evac ships of frigate class and up are to join the battle."

The officer began relaying the command instantly. Meanwhile the Aegis speed through space, alarms blaring and the darkness before them flaring with the glistening beams of lasers and the soundless roar of missiles. Arkoh studied the map quickly, and spotting his chance enhanced the image of the Kandosii-class dreadnought.

"The Anthelion now!"

The comms officer hurriedly set about opening a channel, meanwhile Arkoh turned towards his helmsmen,

"I want you to bring us as close as you can to that Kandosii-class..." He was interrupted as the ship rocked from a series of starfighter bombs, none breaking the shields yet, "... I want us in a close and fast orbit, if the Aegis doesn't constantly rock from hitting its deflector shields get closer."

The helmsmen nodded and set about their task. There was no need for Arkoh to tell them to spiral towards the ship, they knew what their captain liked. By spiraling in towards the target at high velocity the Aegis would keep its angular velocity too high for the laser and turbolaser cannons to track. Large guns could splat the Aegis, Arkoh knew this, but with a wry smile they had to hit her first and he was not going to give the clunky old Kandosii the chance. As the ship spiraledtowards the dreadnought the comms officer nodded and Arkoh turned towards the holoprojector,

"Captain Zharra, it looks like the Aegis will be joining you." He chuckled and lurched to one side as more starfighter bombs hit the ship. "We are making for the Kandosii class, tight orbit, better chance to stay in the fight under the range of those big guns than in them."

There was more to his thinking than just staying alive though. The battle was lost that was a forgone conclusion, but if they could hold long enough for the few shuttles to escape atmo and dock then they would have another problem. The Mandalorian fleet would be on their heels, and in all likelihood would catch them before a Republic reinforcement fleet would arrive. So they needed to cripple the Mandalorian's ability to give chase, this would be the Pyrrhic victory that Arkoh was determined to win from this defeat.

The Aegis began to buffet and bounce as its hull hit the deflector shield of the great dreadnought. Almost as soon as it had the solitary dreadnought in the Republic fleet finally heaved and broke apart after the rapid attack of the Mandalorians. Whether the admiral had survived on an escape pod did not mattter, for the moment the fleet was leaderless. Arkoh opened comms to all the evac frigates and cruisers, and more than a few freighters.

"Get in close to the large vessels, aim for engineering systems, launch all fighters and stay in a tight orbit. We have to give enough time for the shuttles to return."

On the holomap he could see the Anthelion with the bulk of the true combat ships, Zharra would no doubt be taking control of the situation. As was practice during the briefing the order of precedence was established, and Zharra was senior.

A rapid orbit was in place with the Aegis' transversal velocity vector constantly being changed by the helmsmen to prevent computers on the Kandosii class detecting a pattern, this kept the angular velocity up making it hard for the frigate to be tracked. She wasn't the most maneuverable ship in the fleet, but more importantly she was capably piloted and commanded.

Throughout this the laser cannons and turbolasers of the ship blasted regularly most not making it past the shield, the few that did causing minor damage more cosmetic than anything else. The Aegis' strikefighter squadrons buzzed around the ships desperately keeping bombers and other fighters away from the frigate.

"Emergency lighting only, non-essential systems off, all excess power to shields."

The bridge darkened and was illumined in dim orange, meanwhile the shields read slightly above normal an officer reported, good thought Arkoh a little more time. This battle would be one of minutes, if they could just hold out long enough he interrupted his thought by straightening his uniform, it had been ruffled. Meanwhile the armada of shuttles sped towards the planet, many hadn't even made it past the first ring of the blockade, but some were now running the second gauntlet.

"Have the targeting computer scan the rear of the ship each time we make a pass."

An officer nodded. This is the problem with using old behemoths Arkoh thought hands gripping the railing as the Aegis lurched from a laser cannon hit. Powerful yes, could decimate a fleet single-handedly almost yes, but also the designs were known and had been analysed for centuries - every weak point as familiar to the lowliest ensign fresh from officer training as it was to Arkoh... and none them were half as talented as him, Arkoh smiled at the thought. The computer would have that weak spot soon.

((Edited to correct a misreading of Apillis post, and for spelling & grammar))

[Dire Wolf]

A hopelessly arrogant smirk tugged at one side of the man’s lips beneath the emotionless T that made up his visor. Chorun had no intention of leaving Gargon any time soon. For a moment it looked as if more than a man stood in the doorway. Deep red beskar glinted against the ambient light to cast an imposing frame, and for that brief moment he appeared to be an animated statue. Perhaps it was more intelligent for the Mando’ad to draw his scatter-gun and turn the Jedi into a barely living hunk of swiss cheese; that just wasn’t Chorun’s style.

One hand almost tenderly grasped the handle of his automatic blaster pistol only to rip it from the holster on his chest while the other darted backwards to unleash the cold iron beskar from its scabbard at his back. The short blade sang in the relative silence that had set around the two combatants; Chorun felt the rare urge to not utter a word and break veil of eerie quiet. Words were among his favorite things.

Just as he had prepared to make the charge his helmet’s sound receptors reported the all-too familiar cry of a lightsaber’s ignition. Anger welled up within his chest and out of his throat in a deep war cry that was only amplified by his helmet’s voice modulator. Chorun turned to view the new challenger only to view a Falleen mid-charge. One Jedi was challenging. Two was just fun.

Rage was quickly replaced by the thrill of mortal danger and was quantified in the wild grin that had become glued to his face. Before either of the cowards could touch him with their brilliant energy swords he fell onto his back only to feel the lurch of his body against the thruster pack. A shrill whine spun to life in his pack and the mighty roar of his pack’s exhaust propelled him effectively out of range of either of the Jedi.

Sparks erupted up into the air as his beskar shell scraped against the ground; by the time he slowed to a stop the man rolled backwards into a more standing position with his weapons still drawn. Chorun glared at the two Jedi from beneath his helmet and spat modulated words at the two, “hu’tuun jetiise!”

Another blood curdling battle cry erupted past the man’s lips and through his helmet, but he didn’t throw his weight forward in a reckless charge despite the pleas of every aching muscle in his body. Even Mand’alor wouldn’t survive a head-on charge against two Jedi of unknown skill and walk out unscathed. Chorun may not have been a coward, but he wasn’t stupid. Instead that automatic pistol snapped up to fire off a salvo of bolts at each Jedi in turn. One can never underestimate the judicious application of pressure or harassment.

”Olaror hu’tuun jetiise! Olaror urcir gar kyr'am!”

[Mara]

As her run forward had taken her closer to where the Mandalorian was standing over Tova'nas, the armored warrior must have noticed her added presence into the fray to come. The red-clad enemy had, she had to admit in her weariness, rather ingeniously used his jetpack to gain some distance between himself and the two Jedi. However, the sentiment was short-lived; she could not let herself think that way, nor did she have the energy to waste. And having seen their opponent retreat, Xierra had been grateful to come to a standstill, close enough to the Twi'lek master to be of aid but not so close as to render them an easy two-for-one target.

But she was not lulled into thinking that this armor-clad being's movement was because he was actually scared of the two Jedi. Far from it. She easily recognized a defensive position; it was an intelligent decision from a warrior well-versed in the art of war.  Xierra and Master Tova'nas had seen plenty of examples of that training in the past several hours. With a deep, calming inhale and exhale of air, drawing on the Force at the same time, she took up her own posture, her pale green blade held out diagonally in front of her, weight on her back left leg, muscled primed and ready.

The tall Falleen risked a glance over at the purple Twi'lek Jedi then, trying to discern what he was thinking, if he had any kind of strategy in mind. Multiple wisps of hair were hanging around and in front of her face, escaping the tight bun she had pulled her long black hair into at the base of her neck. No time to fix her 'do, she blew out a sharp breath to clear her vision. Tova'nas's countenance was closed and focused, though, and she turned away back to the red-clad soldier, not wanting to break the master's concentration. Xierra would try her best to silently follow his lead, using the Force to guide her; even if they could not understand the strange gutturals of the Mandalorian's speech, he definitely would know Galactic Basic, and shouting orders aloud would be quite unhelpful to gaining an upper hand.

Though it had felt the trio had been stalling there for hours, only a few seconds had passed from when the enemy had shot away to the current moment. The Mandalorian unleashed a barrage from his blaster then, at both of the Jedi. Confident that Tova'nas would be able to handle this relatively tame attack, she didn't even look towards the Twi'lek master as her own blade harmlessly deflected the bolts of plasma away into a pile of nearby rubble. Xierra remained alert, though, experience telling her that this was just the prologue to yet another grueling duel.

And after hours and hours of fighting, her strength was waning. She had pulled on the Force more and more to keep her steady as time had gone on. Almost to the point where she was currently relying wholly on its power, her own physical reserves running on empty. Xierra wasn't sure how much more she would be able to take of this. Even if she and Master Tova'nas managed to take down this red-armored beast, there was the grim certainty that he would be replaced by still more. The Falleen Knight knew she had to figure out a way to give the two of them some kind of boost against this Mandalorian.

Xierra resigned herself to what she would have to do. Something she had spent a lifetime learning to control and repressing down. Something that she had always refrained from utilizing unless in a desperate situation. Because she felt it an unfair advantage to whomever she was dueling, casual or for her life. And her old master had continually beat into her that Jedi did not fight dirty, no matter what. Dark eyes rolled up to the darkened sky, closing against the memory, and she whispered a wordless apology to Master Revisc, hoping he would understand this was a valid exception and a very desperate situation. It could very well be the strike that turned the tide for the two Jedi and kept her alive for at least few moments longer.

She pulled the Force yet closer, and with a determined resolve on her scaled features, she stared hard at the Mandalorian warrior as she batted the last blaster bolt away. Xierra kept her blade in motion, unsure how this man would react to her assault; she had not used this particular weapon of hers in quite some time. And then she abruptly tore down the barriers keeping her Falleen pheromones in check and unfurled them sharply at the armor-clad enemy, doing her best to keep them away from Tova'nas, focusing them straight ahead. Adding in a nudge of the Force and mind control to the blast of chemicals, she waved her free hand and worked to break the red-armored man's attention and bring him under her influence. Urging him to drop his weapons and surrender; doing so would make her extremely happy.

[Res]

Tov was concentrating on the task at hand. The next this he knew the Mandalorian clad in red armor flopped on his back and shot across the ground escaping the pincer attack that the two Jedi had him in. Standing next to the Falleen Jedi that had been by his side for most of the battle. Spending nearly twenty hours with someone you get tonknwk what they are made of in battle. He would say that Xierra was a great fighter. Tovs black ribs were now dirty and full if burn marks from near misses by blaster fire and he saved a family from a building that had caught on fire. Where a black glove should be was a metal hand that was gripping the shoto saber.

He had gotten into a phsycial fight with what he had to guess was a much less experienced warrior than the one he was facing now. But in the altercation the clasps broke that held the glove on and not having time to replace it he just went sans glove. It reminded him why he was doing this in the first place. He was doing because he wanted to poove that he can handle himself in a fight. Shot were fired from the enemies blaster and Master Anas defected them with the shoto and continued to stand his ground. He was looking for a weak spot, though he wasn't having the greatest luck in doing so. These Mandalorians were nothing he had ever faced. The more they knocked down more would come back, and in greater numbers. There had to be a way to defeat this opponent and have little harm come to oneself.

He had finally decided to attack when Knight Zalq went forward and started to release some kind of attack. He didn't know what she was doing but he hoped it was going to affect the giant red man. Still in his defensive stanceready for aany thing that the armor clad enemy was going to throw at him. Spinning the right saber, as he did so it hummed and buzzed. He was ready for the attack, but stopped as hr wanted to wait until he knew what was going on. He was nearly exhausted ffrom the battling. The Twi'lek had used every ounce of his strength to hold on, even drawing on the force to aid in keeping him well enough to fight on. He tried to reach out and feel what the Falleen was doing but now luck. Tovvalso nnoticed she was keeping her distance from him and focusing hard on the man in red. Only time will tell what plan this was.

[Thaddeus]

The Aegis rocked from another blast of laser cannon fire, fortunately the ship’s shields still held for now. Arkoh held onto the rail and watched as his crew rapidly and expertly went about their tasks, the two helmsmen were being put through the wringer constantly having to adjust the course; meanwhile engineering officers kept monitoring everything from lighting to shielding; meanwhile the gunnery officers scanned for the Kandosii’s weak points, taking shots at each pass. Turning his attention back to the holomap Arkoh saw that their numbers were thinning, his section of the fleet had originally number 30 vessels of assorted sizes, now only 19 blue blips darted across the map.

“Where is my line to the Anthelion?”

“I can’t seem to raise them sir, I think their comms array is gone.”

Arkoh said no more and waved for the communication officer to go about other business. From the look of the map it seemed that the larger combat vessels under the command of Zharra seemed to be in about the same state as his own. The two rough groups of the broken Republic fleet lay on either side of the Mandalorian ships which had broken away from the main blockade. Arkoh’s eyes rarely left the holomap, only looking up to give orders. Had he looked out the main transparisteel window he would have seen a spectacle.

Broken remnants of ships floated still spilling out atmosphere, meanwhile the stiff corpses of their crews listlessly moved amongst them. And then in dead silence glittering beams and roaring missiles flew from all the ships, the soundless explosions as they collided with shields sparked and dazzled. All these terrifying sights occurred above the gentle blue planet that seemed so serene, almost motionless compared to the flurry of death and destruction happening.

A broadside from one of the Mandalorian battleships hit the Aegis hard, passing through its shielding and wrecking a whole section of the port side.

“Seal it now.”

"Yes sir."

22 lives lost, whether in the initial blast or from the lock down it would be impossible to tell. But there was no other choice, not even the most sentimental of the crew could complain Arkoh thought quickly between orders.

“The shuttles, status.”

"Several have now entered the atmosphere, they report heavy fire, if they make it through they should be landing soon.”

Arkoh nodded his affirmation, good he thought the Republic fleet could not last much longer. If they were going to evacuate anyone their only chance would be those few shuttles that managed to land.

“Captain we can’t hold here any longer! The freighter Outrunner is breaking off.” Arkoh spun around to face the worried face of the captain of the Outrunner on the holo, “Outrunner you will hold your position, there are more lives than your own at risk here.” It was said coldly, and his white eyes did not leave the face of the freighter’s captain until with a gulp the man nodded, “Make it quick, we ain’t got much more.”

Arkoh nodded for the comms officer to cut the line, and muttered to himself,
 “None of us do.” Turning back to his map, as the crew rushed around him (yet all very silently so that they could hear the slightest and quietest order that their captain gave them). “Tell those shuttle pilots to hurry.”

“Yes sir.”

Arkoh ran a hand through his hair, and thought bitterly there was nothing worse than being on the defensive – as well as being caught by surprise. Still with each pass the Aegis fired all its cannons on the weak point at the aft of the Kandosii, if they could disable its hyperdrive then the retreating fleet stood a chance to escape.

[Talau the Ever-Lurking]

No sooner had they warped in than hell broke loose....

....it was a damn good thing that Zharra never went in unprepared for a fight.

"Captain! I don't know how the hell they did it but the dreadnaught is down!"
"Incoming fire from..."
"...getting a barrage of hails from..."
"I'm having a hard time getting past the big guns, Captain and the smaller ships are moving in to harry us..."
"...to recieve damage reports ship-wide."

Long ears flicked around as she listened to the eruption of chatter on her bridge, allowing Tyros to take some of the burden, she would turn to Jost, her primary pilot. "Mr. Nevaan, bring us around toward the nearest outlying cluster of frigates. We'll use them as cover from the Kandosii and we'll stand a better chance against them. Mr. Elrune, Mr. Ryal, are any of those incoming hails from our smaller frigates or blockade runners?"

"We have a repeated request from the Aegis, Captain. It's been getting lost in the flood."

Growling softly, she pinned back her ears. "Patch them through to me. Mr. Elrune, once we're close enough to that cluster of enemy ships to cover us from the Kandosii, scatter our fighters and prioritize the evac shuttles we have. Give them escorts. Mr. Elrune, while you're at it, send this out to the fleet: Tell them to use the enemy ships as cover from the larger capitol ships. They need to be smart and pick fights with ships their own size and use them as cover from the larger guns, get them moving together in small groups."

Flicking her tail she'd ignore yet another jitter from her ship as the shields were pummeled by incoming fire, the slight rocking of the ship as its heaviest guns returned vollies a much more steadying sensation to the feline. Sea-colored eyes flickered over the view through the Anthelion's view port, and her own console. They were spreading themselves too thin, making themselves easier targets and making themselves more difficult to provide backup to. Again she flicked her tail. Not a moment later and the heavy frigate was amidst the tumult of weapon's fire of the pocket of frigates the Aegis had found itself in, with one or two other smaller (compared to Anthelion, anyway) ships.

"Mr. Ryal, where's that line to the Aegis?"

"I'm trying to get a line in, Captain. The array has taken some damage but the droids nearly have it fixed. I should have a line in a minute or less..."

The man sounded almost hesitant for a moment. She glanced over to the impeccably well pressed and groomed Echani...that didn't bode well. They must have been losing a lot of droids on that array...She wondered how long it had been down.

With a great shudder, Zharra was forced to steady herself on the railing to keep from losing her typically sure footing. That alone said something. Immediately her ears perked straight forward as her head snapped around to the sound of the damage report even before it happened.

"Captain! Hull breach, deck 15, near engineering. The breach is minor, but they've lost pressure and gravity in the containment area, and power in the surrounding areas is failing. We may lose contact with them any time..."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, ears pinning back as she considered the problems that caused. They couldn't afford to lose contact with engineering, nor power....and with the structural damage..."Mr. Sharrish, take a small security team and go with Diana down to engineering and report to me what's going on."

"Captain, communications array is up! Getting that line to the Aegis..."

[Jazen]

Imagine. Imagine that feeling one gets when a hard enough blow knocks the air from one's body. That sudden void of life sustaining air in the body, the effort afterwards to gather it back, those fragile moments when panic sets in as all you can do in that moment is suck breath. Its terrifying, painful and yet so hollow that even the toughest being in the galaxy will admit it's something they prefer to avoid. Now imagine that...and then imagine someone putting a burning hot poker into that void, one that suddenly burns red hot before its removed, sending pain throughout your nerves for the brief moment that the poker is there.

The sensation that hit Tyros was a thousand times stronger then that.

Tyros didn't even have time to prepare for it. Even after years of living on a planet in a constant state of civil war, of having fought and bleed besides others who were no longer of this world. Compared to what hit him when they entered the warspace, that was a pin prick. They had barely entered the fray before one of there ships was torn to shreds; the Dreadnaught, no less, their most deadly warship heading in. Suddenly, lives were just no longer there and with his senses expanded outward, Tyros felt them. Felt the sudden fear, the pain...and then the absence of anything at all.

And the planet in the distance was even worse then that; a burning sphere of pain, of death...and of the absence of life that was once there.

Tyros wasn't even aware that he'd stumbled, dropping to a knee while his hand dug into the handrail nearby, his grip on it bending the metal ever so slightly, his eyes shifting colors with the pain he was feeling. He remembered letting out a sound, as if someone had punched him in the gut with everything they had...and the feeling remained. For a short moment, the only thing that filled his existence was that feeling. But Tyros hadn't survived this long by being weak and although his experiences couldn't prepare him for the sudden pain, they had taught him how to recover from it. He reined in his breathing, steadied his shocked form, returned to his feet...and realized that the Captain had given orders.

Several of the crew had noticed his stumble, staring slightly in surprise and fear. A mistake on his part but one that he could do nothing to alter now; but he could balance the scales. His voice, when it came out, was strong and steady, as it had always been and he fixed the stunned crewmen with his gaze, returned to the norm."You heard the Captain! Get us under the cover of their smaller ships; shields to maximum capacity on the side we expose to their ships! Set the point lasers to target any fighters or missiles they send our way." His eyes drifted to the remains of the Dreadnaught, a mighty warship reduced to scrap in moments. "Use the remains of the Dreadnaught to cover our initial push; it should prevent missile lock for a time."

Stepping over to their communications console, Tyros nodded to Tieres, who flicked open a channel to the fleet, having heard the Captain's order. "To all Republic ships in the region; do not directly engage any of the Mandalorian craft outside your weight class. Spread out in groups and use their smaller ships as cover from their capital class. I repeat, do not engage the capital class ships unless absolutely necessary. Target their weaker ships; our job is to make a hole and that's what we're going to do."

Tyros paused for a moment after that, a deep breath coming in...and then extended his senses outward again. The pain, the suffering, the death, then emptiness...it was all still there. But he wasn't caught off guard this time and as such, was able to suppress it...mostly. But he also felt courage, determination, a will to fight and live from the people around him...and he used it to strengthen himself. And then he switched the comm over. "Fighter squadrons, you're clear for launch. You know your assignments; 1st and 2nd flights, cover the refugee ships. Stick close and protect them. 3rd, 4th flights; they showed us their bite. Time to bite back. Target the fighters attacking our ships. Get it done people."

After that, Tyros would step back, a part of him focused on the here and now...and the other part focused outward with the Winds, seeking the danger all around them for the most immediate threats to them. It could only mean a few seconds of extra warning time...but in this situation, that could mean the difference between life and death. Speaking of which...

When the ship rocked violently, Tyros gripped the handrail before him, bracing himself until the worst of it had ended. As reports came in of damage below and Roshgar headed off to assess the damage to engineering, Tyros found his voice and gave it strength. "May the Winds guide you safely Roshgar. May they guide us all."

[Dire Wolf]

“Eesu? Gar mirsh solus, Jetii. Gar mirsh solus. Hut’uun.”

A low chuckle rumbled out from beneath the Chorun’s crimson helmet like distant thunder and his shoulders shook with amusement. Had the shrill klaxon not whined from his helmet to warn him of the sudden concentration of pheromones he likely wouldn’t have even known it was there. Each vod, at least every intelligent one, had the sense to install air filters into his helmet at the very least. Chorun’s tometayl was fully pressurized. No pheromones would affect him in the slightest. Cowards. Two Force wielders against one lowly vod and they still felt enough fear in their bones to make a feebly executed underhanded gesture.

“Hu’tuun Jetii, olaror redalur,” he said with no small amount of amusement in his modulated voice, “olaror redalur ni.

Olaror Redalur NI!”

Both of his pistols slid inside of the hard plastic holster on his chest and a circular metallic object was whipped out at the twi’lek Jedi with one quick, fluid motion. Before the metallic orb even hit the ground a wave of heat washed over the three combatants, and a brilliant flash of light that could have made a blind man see spots seemed to attack each of their eyes. Chorun himself had recoiled at the sudden burst of heat, and he had a fully polarized visor to protect his eyes. Anything within the Thermal Detonator’s blast radius would have been little more than ashes before they knew it. Dots still circled his vision as he lunged forward with a flourish of his twin besk’ar.

Light seemed to envelop the twin short swords’ silvery blade while he rushed forward to the tune of heavy armor plates clanking together. Chorun may have been able to run quickly, but not a soul could run anything but a ponderous pace in over a hundred pounds of armor and hatred. Like the Jedi and her Force, though, he had an equalizer: a rocket strapped to his back. Orange flames bathed the street behind him as he moved with his torso angled forward until the repulsor had gathered enough momentum for flight.

No sane man would willingly engage a Jedi in melee combat, at least not without some plan. Chorun was no sane man. Some men had said that what was left of his self preservation died with nearly two decades worth of nameless foes in illegal gladiatorial games. Whatever the case was, by the end of the day there would only be one man standing. And he would have one hell of a story to tell.

All of the world outside of his T shaped visor turned into a blur save for his lightsaber wielding foe; the schutta was rapidly approaching. Having gathered enough momentum he disengaged the jet pack just short of her lightsaber range, and kept one besk’ad for defense as the other moved to cleave her hamstring in two. An immobilized Jedi was a dead Jedi, after all.

Once again he spun in the air so that a knee and a boot made contact with the ground first. Sparks flew from either side of the man as the metal skidded against the duracrete pavement, his body hunched to keep him stable and from rolling. Synth leather gloves smoked from the friction and he could just begin to feel the heat from the other side of the glove when he finally slowed to a stop. Smoke curled from either boot when he finally did slow to a stop, and when he rose the plates of armor glowed a faint amber beneath the scraped paint. There he knelt for a few moments, one besk’ad held out to his side and one pressed against the pavement, before his head snapped up just before he rose to his feet. If only she could see the wild smile at his lips. The tip of his main-hand’s besk’ad moved to point at the woman while the other was held lazily at his side.

“Well, Jedi coward,” he finally spoke basic, “come dance with me.”

[Thaddeus]

The various ships of the rescue forces had launched nearly fifty shuttles of various sizes, but after running the blockade and the anti-air only twelve shuttles zoomed towards various points across the capital city. Their cabins filled with the noise of a hundred or more requests for evacuation, the city had fallen, the planet had fallen, there was nothing left to do but flee or die in the dirt. The twelve shuttles touched down in parks, alleys, warehouses, and even in one case a former museum. The crews responded to the cries for rescue with coordinates and a timer: 5 minutes, not a second longer. Hope would prevail on the planet of Gargon for just 5 minutes more.

“Sir!” Arkoh looked up, holding onto the railing as the Aegis rocked from another hit, he quirked an inquiring brow at the comms officer. “The shuttles have landed, only 10 more minutes.” Arkoh nodded.

Turning his attention back to the map the Republic forces were scattered, his group of transports still weaved rapidly around the heavier Mandalorian ships, meanwhile from among the wreckage of the Republic Dreadnought Zharra’s group peaked out from cover to launch salvos of missiles and lasers before ducking back into the cover of the ruined ship. A blip here and there would flicker out of existence with alarming regularity, there were very few Republic ships left and it would not be long before the Mandalorian ships squashed the gnats which pestered them.

The Aegis roared forward and rolled under the Kandosii-class dodging several missiles which impacted harmless into the dreadnought’s shields. One more pass and they would have it, if they could disable the hyperdrive on the Kandosii it would mean one less potential pursuer when they fled. The voice of the comms officer shouted over the drone of the alarms, which far from being alarming now had become nothing more than another noise in the cacophony of the ship: the creaking and groan of metal, the hiss of bulkhead doors sealing, the thump and thud of feat, the distant screams in the medbay, and the barking of orders.

“The Anthelion, we have them on comms, they are hailing us.” Arkoh looked up from the map and for the first time looked out the bridge’s viewport before responding. “Tell them to prepare for hyperspace, we have 8 minutes more, and if they can to knock out the hyperdrives of any Mandalorian ships.” The comms officer nodded and spoke rapidly into mic, meanwhile Arkoh straightened his uniform which had gone awry with all the buffeting and evasive manoeuvres.

The young Twi’lek ensign looked up from his station at his captain engaged in the task of vanity, and part of him was disgusted and part of him was comforted. Such was the usual reaction to Arkoh’s aristocratic calm in combat; it seemed heinous and wrong that any being could be so utterly disinterested in the chaos, or at least only interested in it as much as it disturbed his noble calm and appearance. But yet there was also something very calming about it, a pure unshakeable fixed point in the swirling storm of battle. His buttons straightened Arkoh looked down at his map once more while brushing his hair over his shoulder.

“This is our last orbit, I want that hyperdrive gone.” He looked up at the helmsmen. “Give gunnery the best angle.” The helmsmen nodded, and quickly turned back to the various lights that never ceased to flicker across their consoles. “Is our hyperdrive spinning up?” The ensign was startled and looked at Arkoh mouth open. “Ensign!” The young Twi’lek stuttered and unable to say anything just nodded. “Good.” Arkoh didn’t need to tell his XO to check, the man was already walking over to the ensign’s console. “All ships are to prepare to receive the shuttles, once the docking bay doors are closed I want all ships to jump to rendezvous point.” There was a chorus of ‘ayes’ from the remaining ships, with a great tone of relief among them all.

As the Aegis approached the rear of the Kandosii-class once more, her Aurek-class strikefighters beginning to stream back into the hangar, the shuttles were taking off at last. They were crammed to capacity with refugees, soldiers, and even Jedi. Two were shot down before they even left atmosphere, leaving just ten shuttles to break through the blockade and make it to the waiting Republic ships.

“Two minutes until the shuttles arrive.” The comms officer shouted distractedly, he was busy forwarding communications about possible routes through the blockade to the shuttles. Arkoh nodded, “They have exactly two minutes, if they are not here by then I am ordering the fleet to jump without them.” The comms officer nodded and forwarded on the notice, normally such callousness might have prompted a rumble among the crew. But in this instance they were thankful for someone who was willing to make the choice, not that they would ever consciously admit it, for they were more concerned for themselves. And who could blame them? A fleet of nearly sixty vessels decimated within minutes, and now reduced to less than thirty. Shock, surprise, and abundant death were enough to reduce all but the most exceptional of individual’s selflessness. Of course for Arkoh the decision was not one of self-preservation (that is not to say he did not care for his life, he was rather attached to it), but rather a decision of simple – albeit cold – logic.

Finally with a resounding ‘whoop’ from the gunnery officers the Aegis disabled the hyperdrive of the Kandosii-class. It was the first, and would be the only sound of victory heard among the crew that day. Arkoh, standing erect and looking as perfect as if he was on a dress parade, nodded with a half-smile toward the gunnery officers who saluted back. It was a great sign of praise from their Arkanian captain, though it was astoundingly reserved and aloof for almost any other captain.

Three blips appeared on the map, tiny and speeding towards the Aegis, they were the only shuttles to have made it through. In total they could hold no more than 48 individuals, not including the crews, Arkoh thought to himself. 48 people saved at a cost of thousands, it was difficult to imagine a greater defeat in the war to date. The shuttles roared into the hangar of the Aegis, scrapping across the floor and colliding with crates and beams, but their passengers safe at last.

“All ships make for the rendezvous point.” Republic vessels roared off into the black, becoming pinpricks of light and then vanishing. Arkoh allowed himself a small sigh as the Aegis too escaped. It was a catastrophic defeat, the entire sector lay open, and the Republic would be reeling from the defeat for some time.

[Mara]

It hadn't worked. She had completely miscalculated, not her target's resiliency but his equipment. In a small portion of her mind she supposed she had always known it was a long shot maneuver, unlikely to shake off the red-armored warrior's resolve. However, she had gambled against logic and went for the tactic anyway. Of course, the Falleen Jedi should have realized ahead of time that her pheromones would have been useless against the Mandalorian's helmet and life systems, but in the heat of the moment, she had attacked, holding onto an inkling of hope that it would succeed.

Xierra had sighed, spinning her pale green blade and dampening down her pheromones, tucking them away once again; perhaps the prolonged fighting was doing something to her brain as well as her body. Over twenty-plus hours, battle fatigue was sapping her cognition as well as her strength and energy. So much so that even her added attempt at mind control hadn't penetrated such a strong opponent's will, another condition she should have considered before striking. And now any subtle advantages she may have had would be absolutely futile against this enemy.

But then the Mandalorian had struck, forcing her to toss aside her regrets and focus on surviving long enough to get off this planet with her life. And hopefully taking a few more of the horrid beasts with her on the way. An object spun out of his gauntleted hand, its trajectory obvious: Tova'nas. Xierra hadn't a chance to do anything but react when the thing exploded, blinding light bursting first. She had turned her head away, instinctively closing her eyes, a curse of ambiguous origin escaping her lips; there had been no time to warn the Twi'lek Jedi Master or even call out in surprise. The younger Jedi could only trust that he had sensed the intent and gotten out of harm's way.

Blinking quickly to regain her full sight, she looked back to see the wake of the device's blast. An involuntary step forward, a tentative probing with the Force to locate the elder Jedi. The Falleen Jedi had only the chance to confirm within the Force that Tova'nas still lived before having to switch her awareness back to more pressing matters. The hulking red warrior was clanking towards her, and with the Twi'lek Jedi's location unknown, she would have to face this challenge solo for the moment. She stilled her lightsaber, holding it out in front of her and steadied her feet with a deep breath and a pull on the Force. Xierra would need every last reserve she had for what was to come.

The Mandalorian flew at her, aided with his jetpack, and she felt herself gripping her hilt more tightly, knuckles showing paler against the normal grayish-green hue of her skin. He slid to a stop a couple meters from where she stood and swung something at her: she noticed then that the armored thug had switched out his blasters for swords. Time slowed for her; Xierra could almost hear the metal slicing through the air as it veered towards her position. A second or two before the hit became fatal, she coiled her muscles and sprang into the air, twisting backwards and executing a backflip.

Having put more distance between her and the enemy who also had straightened, she landed lightly on her feet, careful to keep her weight away from her injured right leg. He pointed one blade towards her, speaking. Since the man's arrival in the fray among her and Tova'nas, Xierra hadn't been paying any attention to the garbled alien speech; she had needed all her energy spent on fighting, not translating, and had no desire to know what the Mandalorian was spitting at her. So it took her a moment to realize that the words this time around were spoken in Galactic Basic.

In response, the Falleen raised her own weapon, the pale green light reflecting in her narrowing dark eyes. "I don't dance with devils," she sneered. Xierra knew deep down that she should have remained silent, not giving the red warrior anything to work against her, but it had been a long day. She was tired and weary, and it felt good to bite back. And perhaps stall him just slightly in case Tova'nas was able to rejoin the fight and help her out.

"But I can make an exception for such a poor excuse of a partner as you. Maybe you will learn something." At this, she reached down and plucked the second lightsaber hilt off her belt; once ignited, a dark blue blade sprung forth. It was a calculated risk for her to even consider whipping out her master's old lightsaber; she was not trained in double-bladed combat, but this red-armored fiend had no knowledge of that. And just maybe a bit of reckless abandon would give her an edge this late stage in the game when all else had almost failed her, if not failed her completely. Holding this new weapon in a downward defensive posture, she gestured with her own pale green blade, daring the Mandalorian to attack her.