Open Terrain

*Field Marshal ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe stood watching the display*

=Field Marshal ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe=

Well look at that an airshow and an idle threat....

*Squadron 6 came rushing back to Field Marshal ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe position, and they accelerated to attack speed.

no cease fire order came this time and the pilots unleashed all 100 concussion missiles on the FM's location.

When Nevyn wanted to kill something he made sure it was dead! 100 missiles for one person may seem like over kill to some, but to Nevyn's mind... If his target was dead, then he used just enough kill!.*

*The M├â┬│rr├â┬¡gan stood over Bassadro as the TIE fired a smile on her face. As the missiles sailed in ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe screamed out, not in fright but farewell*

=Field Marshal ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe=

Bloody idiot! Well lads tis been a good run├óÔé¼┬ª.

*He budged not an inch; this entire mission had death all over it as he was informed by An Tiarna and offered a way out before it started. He took the giant extended hand then and now stood happy it was the last that he shook. ├âÔÇ£ Fiannaidhe was obliterated by the hail of missiles but the destruction set off by this concentrated attack would rock Bassadro and in turn the universe as a whole. His staff and several hundred IF sympathizers were also wiped by the explosion. The missiles explosion and the subsequent oobsidian sent flying across the compound killed hundreds. An Gunna Mh├â┬│r shook and troops began firing at the TIE. The 500 ├óÔé¼┼ôPoor Man├óÔé¼Ôäós bomb" (220 kg) inside the compound began to explode taking down the hollowed out volcano and blasting volcanic glass from the ground.
The mass of people on crosses and troops alike on An Gunna Mhór were crushed as the mountain caved in.
The 300 Droideka Mark-IIs and 100 YVHs guarding the civilians were turned into heaps of metal. The crowd of 30000 civilians pressed forward pushing others into the death fence where they were instantly fried alive. Those shoving in from the back were ripped apart by glass and shrapnel from the droids and those caught between the death fence and rear were crushed. As a collective consciousness seemed to direct people at the center towards the exit the swelling crowd made the doors buckled and collapsed. The crowd streamed out rushing forward without thought.
Small error often set off a chain of others making a small occurrence grand. Such was the case in the wild scene at present. In the second Canderous tank a crew member taking the move as an attack detonated the rigged fuel tank and thermol detonator. As it exploded the four civilians taped to the tank were torn apart and the 132L napalm-B bomb at the side blew apart. Motivated by the error the 1600 other tanks followed suit and chain of explosions followed. Human torches made by the napalm blasting ran several strides before collapsing in a heap.
The bombs set along the sides of the death fence where the crucifixes stood went off in rapid succession, blasting rock and crosses alike shooting from the ground. The crosses flew with those living on them screaming as the flew high in the shy before crashing to their death, many in an odd way exacting a vengeance of sorts as they smashed into IF hardware and troops. The explosions as intended in turn set off the 3000 "Fenian Fire" bombs 25m ahead. Clouds of smoke rose up covering the sky. In this confusion inexperienced troops began firing randomly hitting some civilians but more oft than not other troops. 5000 Napalm-B bombs placed 50m out exploded hitting civilian, troops, droids and hardware indiscriminately.
Those fleeing pressed on, absorbing blasts, gun fire and perhaps most devastating, stampede by their own. This misfortune would prove to be lifesaving to some. The multitude allowed no stopping as the Napalm-B bomb packed at the center and head of the tank formations went off. Many were roasted in these two passes with those coming through collapsed for the most part. 61 IF sympathizers among the survivors were isolated and literally torn apart by the mass of escaped civilians.
Across the Bassadro terrain 30000 IF troops split in divisions of 125 men began initiating a broad operation. Mass bombing of mining sites were begins. Extraordinary casualties are suffered but the product of this move is equally impressive. But 500 survive, dividing into units of 25 and dispersing these troops and they will go down fighting. Mining facilities have been targeted and destroyed. This creates an environment where great investment will be needed to re-establish the mining industry on Bassadro. Killing not only humanoids has been a fundamental part of the IF plan with Bassadro. Nevyn in reality did little more than prematurely initiate an event already planned. The Mórrígan fell back disappearing but always present*

*Briget too observed the horror. The Darker side of the nature of humanoid animals seemed to be proven by all events on Bassadro. Even the victimized have in the end become victimizer, brutally attacking and killing IF sympathizers. But in the great violence and subsequent display of regression to basic animal instincts many an act of heroism has been overlooked. Some survivors include such as a woman who threw herself overa fallen stranger to defend them from the scorching napalm. Many lucky people find themselves digging out from bodies stampeded. These on the whole are but chance occurrences. But many a person enjoyed the luck of another as the hero before mentioned. Indeed some of these find that their savoir paid with their lives. These examples give testament to the Light side of human nature.
Another aspect of Light was obvious when the survivors were observed with a keen eye. The view put forward by many a philosopher that humanoids could be reduced to a cruel vision of natural selection was challenged at Bassadro. The fastest runners fell victim to the highest concentration of explosions and napalm. Conversely those slower enjoyed a far less, or the strong who aided others faced increasingly lower fatality.
But all rhetoric hurled to the side the destruction and loss of life at Bassadro was enormous. Only 16000 of the population had survived. Of these 2000 were fatally wounded. Another 3000 required immediate medical attention. None escaped without a scratch. Briget shed not a tear impressed by the Light that shined through the Dark*

*The poor huddled masses were desperately attempting to get organized. They were spread out in small groups, often families taking shelter in the wreckage. Crude medical centers were being established across the terrain. They were totally defenseless and had no idea what would happen next. The horrid scene of the mass murder at the three enormous mine shafts had been found. The words still echoed form many*

=Collective Voice=

Where are the Jedi?

Survivors
2000 fatally wounded
3000 requiring immediate medical attention
11000 Assortment of wounds
TOTAL: 16000

*Twenty Viper probe droids crash into the planet's surface, protected by their hyperspace pods. The pods quickly release their cargo and the probes set about gathering their data. Several of them landed away from major population centres but the rest scanned everything they could whist remaining largely hidden. The slaughter at the volcano was mostly captured by one of the droids and pictures relayed back via un-traceable burst transmissions.*

*Of the 16000 people left alive on Bassadro, 200 of them were IF sympathizers who had not come out publicaly earlier. They heard the Jedi's transimition offering aid, they heard the IF retort and the words sank deep.*

"The Jedi knew we were being tortured, they watched it! We will never forgive the Iron Fists for this atrocity, but how can we accept the help of those who would see us dead? They send help now because they feel guilty for our fallen friends! If we had ALL died then they would not have even wasted time to search for survivors.. We cannot trust anyone but ourselves!

We who have slaved in the mines and built our families here, we know how to survive on this planet. Those of you able, see to those who need medical aid. The ones who cannot be saved, do not waste your energies lest you kill yourselves... Simply make them comfortable and stay with them until the end. We must organize ourselves for the next attack whether it be from the Jedi or the Iron fists."

*There were those who would have argued with the man who spoke, but when he mentioned the dying and injured no one felt like it. They had friends who needed them! The discussion of whether or not to accept the late aid from the Jedi would have to wait.

It did not take long for the Fatally wounded to die, some of them were even helped on their way by loved ones who could not bear to listen to their screams any longer. A good 200 of the seriously injured would also die.

Leaving behind only 13800 People, 130 of them disguised IF supporters. Once the funeral pyres were lit the talks would resume.*

*The severely wounded were stabilized, it was clear now that no more would die from their wounds, with 11000 people working on 3000 it did not take long.

After the dying were taken care of a meeting was called to discuss the Jedi situation.*

"Friends, neighbors! We have seen the horrors inflicted when we bow down to others! You heard the Jedi! "OUR FORCES" They do not bring aid they bring military force! We must stand for ourselves!"

"The Jedi follow order and peace! They must have a reason for not helping, something we do not know about. Let them land and explain themselves to us... They offer aid freely!"

"Yes, the Jedi come to help us! It is too late for our loved ones but what of us?"

"I share your concerns! Yet have we not survived here for generations? We have food! We have medicine, we even have the mines! They need us more than we need them! The IF has abandoned us to our fate, they made this happen! The Jedi will come, they will heal us and feed us and make us feel comfortable... Then they will put us back in the mines and take our profit. I say we work for ourselves!"

"Why don't we contact the Jedi and ask them of their intentions? Tell them that we do not want to trade one master for another!"

"A fine Idea my friend! DOES ANYONE HAVE A COMM DEVICE?"

"I do!"

"Excellent pass it forward and we shall call the Jedi and let them know what we want!."

:: Jedi of the LAN, I am calling on behalf of the Bassandran survivors! Before we accept your help we have to know your intentions! We do not want to be slaves to another empire! We the people want to be free to make our own living and prosper from it... If you cannot promise this then we do not want your aid! ::

*The comm was made loud enough for everyone to hear... They all stood or sat staring at the comm waiting for the Jedi's reply... Little did they know the Jedi had created a communications block, their message would not be heard by anyone but the gathered survivors of Bassadro.*

*25 TIE defenders rushed through the atmosphere to the place where the survivors were waiting for the Jedi reply, if the Jedi played this game correctly they would appear heroes and loved by the survivors. Of course they would have to let a few more people die to do this, but there was little they could do to prevent that... their ships were slower than the IF TIEs.

The TIEs prepared all concussion missiles, 100 missiles ready to launch. This time there would be no major booby trap to help speed up the killing process, but even so 100 missiles should be enough to kill a few thousand people.

It would not kill everyone, but it would certainly keep the jedi occupied while the IF prepared for the next conflict.

Once in range the TIEs would fire everything into the assembled crowd.*

*The gunships and attack craft were not quick enough to catch the TIE's before they fired. However straight after they had done the fighters opened up with laser cannons from behind. Simultaneously the gunships dropped below the clouds in a vertical attack, opening up with all their laser cannons onto the TIE Defenders. The combined attack had been effective in space and would hopefully be equally effective in the atmosphere.

Meanwhile, not too far away, the C-9979 landing craft began to land in a circular pattern to unload their troops, equipment and aid. The LAAT/i gunships flew a large patrol pattern around the perimeter of the landing area to check any hostile advances.*

*The TIE Defenders did their job well, their fire power being intense on such a tight gathering of people. 100 concusiion missiles and laser fire tore through the crowd, hundreds died immediately, thousands scattered... Trampling friend and neighbor alike. The Weapons fire was not the biggest worry in a tight crowd, the joint efforts of the missiles and lasers killed at most 3000 people; the debris and the rest of the crowd killed more!

When the dust settled some 6000 people were confirmed dead, another 1000 or so were mortally wounded. Those who had previously been patched up from semi serious wounds found themselves in grater danger of dying now as the old wounds opened and new ones appeared. It was chaos and death!

The Jedi attack was successful and the TIEs all exploded into shards of raining metal and flame, right down on top of the struggling civilians. The pilots may have died and Bassadro may have been lost, but they would be remembered as heroes of the Iron Fist.*

Damage Report:

7000 Dead
1700 Mortally wounded
5100 Various other not life threatening wounds

Total survivors of Bassadro 6800 - possibly less if the Jedi do not arrive on time.

*The remaining survivors had seen the Jedi save them from this second IF attack, they wondered where they were and how quickly they would arrive. Non of the IF supporters had survived the second attack, everyone was now panicked and waiting for the Jedi healers to arrive, hopefully without any soldiers.*

*The landing area saw roughly 30,000 LAN troopers depart from the landing craft. They waited in various locations for speeders to be unloaded and then they shot off towards various population centres close to the landing zone. On board they had medical and humanitarian aid for the civilians that had been cruelly punished by the IF. They were innocent victims of the brutal regime and LAN had come to put an end to it. There were a few outbreaks of violence, people struggling to get supplied of food and medicine but the troopers soon sorted them out.*

He sat, comfortably, his tattered cloak flapping around his frame, his sickly yellow eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. Darkness wasnt a whole, but it was at that time of Dusk where the light was lessened considerably, and the Darkness seemed deeper than midnight. A trick of the eye that suited him just fine. He looked out over the troops being off loaded below him, the planet he called home a smoking ruin...well, MORE of a smoking ruin he supposed, suppressing a dark chuckle.

Shifting his weight, he dropped his small frame the 3 feet to the ledge below him, the glass rocks around him making a tiny noise, and bounded his way to the planets surface from his 'watch tower'. He had on his person all he owned. A tattered cloak, the hood pulled up, his sleeveless shirt, and black combat pants and his boots. His long dreaded hair pulled back into a pony tail, tucked in his hood. He hunched when he walked, so he looked even smaller than he was, and made his way towards the LAN troops, a hidden determined gait to his step. He would either go through them with pure violence, or make his way through them quietly, just another refugee that needed 'saving'

He stopped, cocking his head to the heavens, a chill running through his body. He grinned. Not a pleasant grin. |The type of grin that tells you you are seconds away from breathing your last. He suddenly ducked in a different direction, heading towards his hidden star fighter. The same star fighter he had arrived on when the IF had been given control of Bassadro. He had a place to be now. He was being pulled there. He would go. And the information he would eventually find would invariably end up with someone dead.

*After an extended peace-keeping mission, the LAN forces on the planet were ready to hand back over to the local forces. There was no official ceremony for the hand over and all the LAN troops had been pulling back to the original landing zone and their drop-ships. Now everyone was packed up at the C-9979's lift off and exit the atmosphere, escorted by a series of LAAT/i gunships and fighters from the Lahara Fleet in orbit.*

*The day was hot. The air was arid and stifling.

Marko hated every blasted second of it.

Strange thoughts for a Jedi, yes. However, at least the hate was well founded. Standing on one a few hillocks in the wasteland that was the outskirts of the Bassandroan wilds was a mountain of a man, freakishly tall almost.

He exuded an aura of stinking darkness, putting the worst of after tatses in Marko's mouth as he stood but ten meters away, staring intently at the dark-clad figure, face hidden under a cowl. In fact, that only visible portion of this one's actual flesh was the permanent smirk, customized by a single sharp tooth protruding from the lower lip, set against the deep blue of the man's skin.

In contrast, Marko was absolutely average. Everything about him screamed normal for a human male, from his fair skin to short brown hair and brown eyes. His face had nothing remarkable to speak of; no big nose or sharp cheekbones, or even a high forehead. Even his Jedi robes, in the same rusty browns as the scarred and dead terrain in this wasteland, would not assist in identifying Marko had he been in a crowd. This was not exactly unavoidable however, seeing as the Jedi Order had a limited color palette to work with notwithstanding.

But now it was time to battle. His opponent seemed to be there just for the purpose of unleashing the pent up annoyance and sense of betrayal Marko felt towards the Council. Having him shafted to the sidelines in the midst of a war! Nothing had happened on this planet in months, nay, years! And yet, Marko had been drawn to this very location by the Force, as if the darkness was waiting to be vanquished by a man of the light.

It was the Force that was the only constant left in Marko's life. If he were to lose his connection to it, for even a split moment, he would surely die, if not naturally then by his swift and own hand. Nothing else made sense, and nothing else needed to make sense.

From his belt, Marko extracted a single, also unremarkable lightsaber hilt. He held it in the grip of a Jedi prepared to execute the chaotic moves of Form VII: Juyo. It was balanced rather even between his fingers and his palm, which would allow him to alternate his attack pattern and angle at will between the two for variances in power and dimension. Truly, this was the only notable thing about Marko. His lightsaber combat style was not perfected by many, and practiced by few, but he knew it well. Vaapad was off limits to one of his meager stature; only a Jedi Knight, but he had little interest in it. The rigors of Juyo were enough for him.

In response, the Sith carefully pulled back his cloak and sniffed with nostrils thin as slits. His nose was pronounced however, almost contradicting the overall pinched look to his dark blue face. His eyes flashed a mixture of gray and yellow. The effect was both repulsive and mesmerizing. Marko shook his head to clear the total result off, and then activated his lightsaber, the yellow blade coming to life with a hum.

The Sith sneered, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. He did not remove his cloak as Marko had done prior to approaching the Sith, and he then summoned his own lightsaber. It was sharp and spiny and curved, revealing his apparent use of Form II: Makashi. Clearly this battle would be a knock-out or a complete draw.

Marko vowed to tow the line. He vowed to kill this Sith; not only making the galaxy a better place but equally satiating his hunger for a release. Not very Jedi-like, but at this point Marko hardly felt like a Jedi any more.

"It is strange Jedi, why you come here. I sense the anger. I feed on it. You are fueling me even now." said the Sith, waving a mystical hand, complete with decrepit vein structures and sharp nails. As if on queue, the strench of the Dark side radiated in even more potent fashion from the Sith, and Marko stepped back in surprise and disgust. He responded with venom rivaling the Sith's, "You do not own me. I will crush you."

"Truly?" the Sith asked. But Marko charged, letting a near primal scream vibrate from the depths of his chest. His lightsaber was held high, ready to smash down on the Sith. He easily activated the red blade of his lightsaber and flourished it in the time it took Marko to traverse the distance between them, and then sidestepped as Marko came on hard.

The first exchange was lightning quick and adrenaline filled. The Sith fluidly parried each of the chaotic, powerful strikes Marko threw his way. To the chest, neck, right thigh, left temple...they were flying everywhere, but the Sith's form was as consistent as Marko's wasn't, and despite giving ample ground, the Sith held Marko completely away from scoring damage.

Then, when Marko attempted a sequence of two moves twice, the Sith expertly caught the pattern and engaged in a hard twirl of his blade, utilizing two hands -- uncustomary of Makashi -- nearly beating inside Marko's guard. The Jedi responded with a cartwheel to his left, barely avoiding an attack that would have severed his non-weapon arm at the shoulder. He jabbed and uppercutted in the same instant, trying to get the Sith before he could recover, yet the dark man easily converted momentum into power and redirected both hits towards the ground. The exchange produced only sparks.

Marko backed off, knowing the Sith would take a moment to gloat. Indeed, Marko was already flared up, his breath heavy. The Sith was not yet even close to being completely worked up. Makashi utlimately conserved energy, and this Sith proved no exception to the rule.

The Jedi charged again, going in high and then altering hits from left-to-right and low-to-high until he was making sure attacks were coming in at all angles on the Sith. Not one followed a pattern of any sort, and soon the Sith was giving ground again. He did have plenty to give, being as they were hardly in a confined space of any sort. This time, Marko refused to let up for even the slightest moment, giving his all to continue advancing, even unwisely pressing the attack when the Sith made parries that would otherwise provide a step in his advantage. In this way, Marko's robes began to become tattered, gaining burn marks and cuts as he pressed the very risky advantage on all cylinders.

The Sith's saber was one massive blur. It stayed expertly confined to a small space, keeping the angles compact so as to keep from letting the absolutely unbelievable range of motion from getting inside his guard or outmanuevering his saber. He always applied the angles, getting slashes to run off at angles and causing jabs to sail just past him.

An overhand to his shoulder: angled away with an up high block. Uppercut to his left hip: forced up past his left shoulder with a rising parry. Jab to his solar plexus: sidestepped and pushed upwards followed by a cut to the Jedi's right bicep.

Eventually, the Jedi would tire measurably and the Sith would press the advantage for a quick kill. It was simple biomechanics; no mortal could hold up such a frenzied barrage forever.

What the Sith did not realize was that he was slowly being backed up an incline, which then dropped off into an impact crater from a nuclear explosion from a long-ago Clone Wars battle. The incline was decidely minor as the passage of time wore down the overall effect of the terrforming, but the fall was still as abrupt as ever. Marko honestly did not realize it either, as locked in the battle as he was.

Finally, Marko had a split-second slow on an overhead smash, and when the Sith blocked with a two-handed grip, he pushed the saber past and planted a booted foot in the Jedi's chest, sending him sprawling. Marko, retaining his saber, looked up from one knee and blasted the Sith in the chest with the Force, sending him up the incline further before he could press the advantage. There was to be no advantage for this massive Sith now, or ever.

He leaped in one swift motion, lightsaber wheeling about, up to the Sith, flat on his backside. The hits came in a frenzy, high low and all about the downed man, creating sparks and always closing the defensive gap around the Sith. It was to end in moments...

Then once again Marko slowed for a moment as a gust of win put dust particles in his face, and the Sith capitalized, getting a hard parry in close on Marko's hilt and forcing him to retreat a step. In that one moment of retreat, the Sith used the Force to spring up and back. Ever farther up the incline, but equally farther away from Marko and his insane barrage.

It was such that the Sith was obviously a Master in his art, able to use the very smallest opening to bring down an entire attack phase while simultaneously defending impeccably. However, it was such that he knew no offense versus Marko's chaotic assault. The tables were turned against the Dark side in this bout, and it was such that the Jedi was the incensed individual. The Sith decided as Marko charged again that he was too complacent in his judgement, and simply waiting for an opponent to tire before finishing him off was the Jedi way, and a direct application of Form III, the defensive art.

No true Sith ever defended by nature, yet, it was all he was doing. Time for a track switch.

Marko made a single attack before the Sith parried with excess speed and spun around the Jedi's guard to get a hit in on the Jedi's left shoulder. Marko blocked, but by then the forward momentum was completely lost. The Sith began raining a barrage of fluid and precise cuts and jabs in on Marko, working his way around the body in a very concise and organized manner. While in sharp contrast to the Jedi's attack style, it contained all the vigor and effect of the attack, moves amplified by the Dark side and the intensity of the Sith's momentum.

Not used to defending, Marko began forcing himself in closer against every attack the Sith made. Because these attacks were not sweeping like Form V or IV, the Sith had no problems with the very close quarters, but in the space of one millisecond, Marko had been able to sneak in a single unpredictable cut and managed a distracting hit on the Sith's abdomen. The cloak smoked from the clean hit, and then the Sith's concentration was absolutely broken.

In so close, Marko rained unexpected blows not only from his flashing saber but also from his elbows, legs, and hands. The Sith was driven back under the pummeling, trying to get even the slighest edge but unable to even think straight. It was then when the inclince increased near its apex that the height difference between the two actually made a difference.

Previously belated parries by the Sith began to force Marko's guard up high in order to save his head and shoulders, and then a well-placed snap-kick put Marko back and off of his groove. It was then that the Sith pressed, getting lightsaber strikes and bodily hits in on Marko as had been done to him moments before. Quailing suddenly under the heavy-handed assault, Marko once again won out with his unpredictable style. The Sith's downfall was his organized method, Marko decided. His anger not only clouded the Jedi's thoughts, but also provided the complete randomness needed to complete the style of combat. Marko himself could not predict where he was attacking from next.

Just so, the Sith retreated once more, having received the butt of the lightsaber to his cheek bone, splitting the skin and causing blood to smear across his face and drip down on the ground, even splattering Marko in the close quarters. The Sith retreated, finally breathing just as hard as Marko under the beating being taken. He then reached the precipice in full, and the Force alerted him to his near-imminent drop to his doom. With no manuevering room, the Sith voluntarily pressed back into Marko, taking elbows and kicks head-on and even succumbing to a minor lightsaber glance as well.

In that moment, though, the Sith grabbed a hold of Marko's wrists and held them up. Marko responded with hate-filled strength, and telekinetically surpressed a kick by the Sith to his groin. The struggle then turned more Force-oriented than physical as they grappled, waging an invisible battle of the wills.

Looking into each other's eyes, the pair of Force-users tried to bash down the other mentally. If there was but one slip, that one would fall easily and leave stunned, prepared to die in the next instant. Marko battered at the Sith's consciousness with the same chaotic, random fashion as his lightsaber blows were, and soon the Sith's iron will began to wilt. Nothing could stop the fiery explosiveness behind Marko's attack, even the cold unbeatableness of a Sith's mind.

In a blink, Marko telekinetically pushed the Sith's right foot, and his mind flashed away from focus. Then Marko penetrated deep into the gap, jabbing hard and fast and without abandon, causing the Sith to cry out in pain as the mental attack became all too powerful to hold up. Soon, the Sith's mind was beaten into a semi-conscious state, where his lightsaber was held limply in the gnarled hand.

Marko then exited the Sith's mind and attacked with the lightsaber once more, the Sith offering token resistance until he was once again backed up with his heels on the brink. Marko flashed a strange combination, and finally disarmed the Sith, sending the lightsaber tumbling away down the incline behind him. The Sith raised his arms to unleashed lightning; Marko could smell the ozone about to collect, and then he jabbed his yellow blade forward, right through the Sith's heart, cutting off the electricity before it could properly form.

A gasp escaped the Sith's lips, and then he tumbled backwards off of Marko's blade, and into the crater below. The Jedi turned, pushing the smell of burnt flesh from his mind, and snatched up the Sith's fallen lightsaber on his way down the incline. He limped slightly from his injuries, and nearly fell over twice on his way down, but fierce determination pushed him onward, against all convention.*