RPlog:The Third Battle of Coruscant, Part I

Plaza -- Coruscant Palace

Spanning nearly one-half of a kilometer in length and just half that in width, the plaza offers more personal space than any area on the planet aside from the palace itself. The unpaved areas are mostly covered with flora and plantlfe from other worlds, and several groups of BEINGS are in evidence across the plaza.

A walkway encircles a pedastal in the center, where once was displayed a MONUMENT to a Republic hero. The widest walkway leads away from the circle towards the Palace steps to the north. A narrower, and slightly less decorative walkway leads south to a cobblestone bridge. In the northwest corner of the plaza is a covered turbolift, on top of what once was the Old Republic Senate building.

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Still moving from building corner to building corner, taking advantage of as much cover as is provided in this city that is so alien to him, Simon makes his way toward the palace with a renewed purpose. There was someone... perhaps something... awaiting him. Perhaps it was simply that Mira had fled in this direction. Perhaps it was his death that he moved toward. Whatever it was, Simon no longer moved with the blind fear that he'd been moving through the stone and steel hell that was Coruscant... he was being driven, and for a purpose he couldn't fully grasp.

As he reaches the edge of the Plaza, he looks out with dismay at the area stretched out before him. Little cover could he find here. Once more, he flexes his right hand, wishing he'd merely stayed on the ship and left this city business for Markus and Mira. He wanted to cut this place down, bring its walls down. Grimly, he leaves the shadows, and walks deeper into the plaza.

The plaza is filled with New Republic troops, standing guard for the Imperial attack they knew was coming. It was only a matter of time until the enemy forces pushed through the perimeter defenses and made their way into the plaza itself. The palace was the biggest prize in the battle for the planet. It was the seat of Palpatines rule, and the home of the Old Republic. Whoever held the palace held Coruscant. But today there was another reason the palace was important. Hiding inside were the members of at least half the Senate, including the President himself, those who had been unable to run the blockade. To lose them would deal a huge blow to what was left of the New Republic's esteem. So the troops stand in the Plaza, waiting.

Trussed up in some rather, well, bulky armor is the figure of another Generic NR Trooper, peering around through his helmet at the surrounding scene. Jakob Entri'haglin Nablinglather Flightscreamer the third, endearingly known as 'Brain' by his friends and cohorts. Why? Who knew. But anyways, here he is, along side his friendly type friend known as 'Pinky'... why? Who knew. One of those strange things, you know. So, Pinky and the Brain just sort of stand around behind a small hastily built bunker, each bearing a nice assortment of weaponry.

"Any clue what this is all about? I heard the Empire would be striking the palace soon... but this soon?" Brain inquires quietly, leaning on a long blaster rifle, pondering quietly. With the charge of his pretty little ten-man troupe of men, he was important. Or not. But who cares. He's here to fight. And stuff.

The Imperial attack in space and the increasing battlezones on Coruscant have forced many of the civilians of the planet to flee the Palace as they too knew it would be a target. Overhead, hundreds of civilian vessels are screaming away towards space. Many into the midst of the ongoing space battle above. Many more accelerate towards the other side of the planet where they hope they can escape the battlezone in space. As many of the Senate members seek refuge inside the Palace, several make their way out into the plaza and watch, waiting for the inevitable. Among them, a mature-looking man in a flowing robe. He watches the New Republic troops dig in for the onslaught. Hovertanks and artillery emplacements lined up before the soldiers. It wouldn't be enough, and Jandis knew it, but it was thir last stand.

Skeezix hops off a small hovercar, throwing a blaster rifle over his shoulder. He leans to the side and spits a hunk of chewed matter onto the ground in agitation, then joins another higher ranking officer. He begins to speak with the man in hushed tones, his mouth right up against the other's ear.

Mira had gotten lost. A passing TIE had spooked her into running, breaking away from her companion in the fear that a particuarly large bird had come after her. As it turned out, the fighter was not a bird, but a ship. But the damage had been done. She had spent some time wandering the city, which had seemed strangely deserted and quiet. She had been wandering the streets, trying to find Simon, weaving in and out of the huge skyscrapers and debris left from previous battles. Her feet had taken her here, to the plaza. Somehow she had been lucky enough to avoid the soldiers who had been stopping pedestrian civilian traffic and steering it away from what was soon to be the next big battle for the planet. Well, she hadn't entirely avoided. She had climbed over a rather nasty fence. One which had dealt her quite a few bruises and scrapes.

As she wanders into the plaza filled with soldiers, she finds relief from the eerily empty streets of the city. This must be where everyone had gone. It was packed.

Well, so much for ideals and honor and all that. Now it came down simply to who had enough ammunition and hwo had the better aim. Things had been exploding in the sky for the last few days, and now those explosions were a lot closer than they had been. The Corporal crouches down in a trench that they'd torn into the street in front of the Palace the night before, and as he looks down the line of faces, he has to wonder if this is really necessary--all of the guys standing to his left and right, many of them fresh recruits, and probably himself, would most likely end up as grease spots by the end of the day, and it didn't help matters that the explosions of the TIE Bombers' payloads were getting closer by the hour. Oh well...

There are innumerable expressions for days like this. The calm before the storm. Twilight before the night. Being quiet, too quiet... Whichever phrase suits your fancy can be applied to this cold winter's day in the city. For a long while now the hustle and bustle of Imperial City has been reduced to a mere whisper thanks to the savage battle that has driven most of the citizens out into the more placid regions of the planet. After more than a week of terrible conflict that has taken the lives of thousands of loyalist combatants, the war for the capital has come to a head. Imperial TIE Bomber wing overhead, flocking to the south where the New Republic military headquarters is being bombarded mercilessly and Imperial troops are flooding the area to pick up the pieces. The radio traffic has been disheartening for almost all of those privy to it, as now tehre can only be one target left for the Empire to take -- the most valued prize of all.

Dull thrumming begins to reverberate through the plaza, the kind that one expects to accompany the sort of bombardment going on to the south, except much deeper and much quicker. By now, the New Republic troops have become all to familiar with this sound, the sound of very large machines approaching steadily. The AT-AT walker's only disadvantage is that it is hard to mount a surprise attack, but then again, the Empire was rarely a body that employed subtlety when dealing with its opponents. The hulking machines can soon be seen moving down several of the streets leading to the massive palace, and it is only a matter of time before they are within firing range. There is trooper movement down the alley ways as well, but only those closest to the perimeter of the plaza can see the approaching Imperial ranks. In the skies above, amidst the fleeing civilian ships, several new craft come into view. There appear to be several dozen of them, smaller transports at first glance, and they are rapidly descending on the Palace. Apparently the Empire plans to attack from all points today.

With a small cluster of imperial troops the armoured Kacela enters the edge of the plaza from one of the hovering ships, ready for a fight! Unlike the other battles, she is dressed in a light suit of scout armour, rather than the bulky storm trooper stuff and the difference in her demeanour, especially to her team-mates, is astounding. She moves silently in the softer boots, faster and with the definite prowess of a predator following the scent of blood. It's time to take back the palace, and to kill off a few useless diplomats and senate members, all in the name of the empire. Luckily for her, Luke hasn't been around.. perhaps the coward realizes how useless this fight is and has run with his tail between his legs. That thought comforts Kace as she moves towards the danger zone, waiting for the large ATATs and such to soften the crowd a wee bit before she gets close enough to be shot at.

People. Vast amounts of people, looming before Simon, of all races and types, of all demeanors, filling the plaza with their talk and their sweat and their apprehension. There was a quality in the air that suggested many of them would die, and they knew it. Straining his senses to penetrate the crowd to find Mira amidst the throng, Simon grimaces and plunges into the crowd, moving like a man on a mission. At one point, he pauses, looking over his shoulder and notices a tight not of people that do not seem to fit with the New Republic soldiers standing ready. And then there is the sound of the AT-AT's approaching, their droaning buzzing like giant insects preparing to gorge themselves on the fatty flesh of an unsuspecting body. There would be much death, this day. Simon just hoped to keep Mira's name from being one amongst that number.

"Everyone ready?" Kizuka asks to the two squads of stormtroops in the belly of his transport. "We're going in fast, hard, and we WILL get a lot of fire. But I'll shoot the first one of you to turn and run myself." Ah, truly inspired leadership. A cold smile spreads on the face of the scarred man, as the ship shakes and bucks about, diving from the atmosphere towards the battle scene.

The voice of the pilot comes over the intercom.. "ETA Two minutes.." as the vibrations and noise grow even louder. The troops begin to hustle as the noise increases, the sound of weapons being checked, cocked and primed sounding out loud and clear.

"Squad Primus, you will follow me. Secundus.. take your lead from Petty Officer Darkholme. You will provide support to us in Primus."

"ETA one minute" The intercom sounds once more.

"Here we go people.. FOR THE ENDLESS GLORY OF THE EMPIRE!" Kizuka intones, as the ship screams from the heavens down towards the plaza, starting the final seconds of it's approach, turrets cycling for any anti-aircraft fire.

Skeezix claps the Republic military Colonel he had been speaking with. and points back towards the palace at his back. "You call me if you need assistance. Move out, swiftly." He turns to his other side, where a Major stands ready to give orders. "Prepare for ground assault. I want all front lines to concentrate on enemy troops, backing lines bring cover fire, and I'm talking about those damned Imperial walkers coming in."

Darkholme tenses himself visibly as the ship comes in to land near the main square. For a little while as the ship slows it's final decent, Darkholme remembers all the times he saw the Palace before it was put under Republic control. now it's a mockery of it's once glorious self. As the ramp drops he gestures for the few men under his command to follow. As usual instead of charging blindly into possibly dangerous situations, Darkholme's squad silently but effeciently provides backup for the Primus squad. Setting themselves up near the drop-point Darkholmes squad quietly relays targets and possible points of danger amongst themselves. Quickly they pick the best targets and secure themselves in a good position to provide cover for their teamates in Squad Primus.

With casual reluctance, Brain scowls slightly, and ducks down behind the barrier between them and death, motioning for his troops to follow suit. He also ushers orders for a pair of men to man the laser cannon set up a few feet back. Brain watches through a pair of goggles as the Imperials show up for their dessert. Time to play.

With grim undertones, his voice ushers out the orders, "Open fire." And then, several of his men do such, firing--ineffectively--at the far off Imps through the various APCs and tanks and whatnot that line the front. The laser cannon, as well, fires off shot after shot towards them; in particular, the troops and ship that bear the very same squads ordered around by Kizuka and Darkholme. Appetizers, anyone?

Brain himself starts firing off shots with his blaster rifle, trying to pick off at least a couple folks. Hopefully, the rest of the NR Troops could hold off the Imperials. Hopefully. Because otherwise, he'd be dead.

Meanwhile, the other NR forces were starting to take action. The artillery start firing off long ranged shots, as well as the tanks. They all hold position, however, waiting for the enemy to come to them. Spreading out would be rather disasterous.

As the assault shuttles and Imperial 1irari assault arrives, Jandis watches solmenly from the far east corner of the palace front. A small door is behind him, standing partially open. As the assault shuttles touch down and Imperial troops erupt from inside, Jandis is forceably shoved inside the doorway by the Colonel in charge of his safety. The door seals shut behind them. The main entrasnce, however, is wide open. Inside this entrance, a second line of tanks are lined up with thousands of soldiers around them. Soldiers line the tiers of the Grand Corridor.

Mira doesn't particuarly like the way things are shaping up, even as she stands at the edge of the plaza. The way the ground reverberated under her feet and the way the people gathered here seemed not particuarly at ease made her wary. What also made her wary was the way a trench had been dug through the plaza and the way one of the soldiers in that trench seemed to be pointing a gun at her suspiciously, as if she might lob a grenade at him at any moment. Luckily for her, she was wearing her peaceful cloak, hopefully marking herself as a civilian and, spottting the fellow aiming at her, she scampers off into the bushes.

As the sound of blaster fire erupts, Simon abandons the notion of keeping his weapon sheathed on his back. His right hand moves to the cylinder strapped to his back, and with a click blur of motion and a double snap hiss, Simon is wielding what appears to be a double edged laser sword. He turns completely around, his eyes watching for signs of attack even as he reaches out for what was called the Force by the people around him. The need to find Mira and bring her to safety redoubles in his mind and heart, and he fights back and defeats a panic that wells up within him.


 * KA-BWAAM* The first blast of the evening rips through the cold air from the heavy guns of an Imperial Walker, destined for the heart of the plaza. Suddenly, from all sides, the heavy blasts of the AT-AT's rain down on the plaza, cutting through metal, dirt, and man with explosive force. Streak after streak of red energy flies in from the streets and alleyways to soften up the Rebel lines holding the perimeter of the plaza to make an easier entrance for the multitudes of Imperial troopers following behind the mammoth machines. The walkers fire relentlessly on the tanks and armored vehicles on the forward line of the Rebel defenses, leveling no small number of machines as they themselves take a pounding from the Rebel artillery. Like the Rebels on Hoth discovered, AT-AT's have armor thick enough to repel even the heaviest blater fire, and advances in reasearch and development have only improved their effectiveness. A few of the troops behind them are not so lucky, however, as a few unfortunate columns of stormtroopers that find themselves unprotected by the AT-AT's armor are wiped out in sweeping blasts from the New Republic cannons. Kind of interesting how plastic melts under such conditions.

High above, the Imperial vessels descend on the palace like hungry mosquitoes to a salt cube, seemingly finding every available balcony and precipace to land on. Troops pour out of their holds, firing angry blaster shots at the New Republic guards left on the outside holding the doors. No small number of troops fall as they debark from their ships, but they have the benefit of seemingly endless numbers. *WHAAAM* the destruction of one of the New Republic turrets stationed in the plaza returns any of the skygazers to their currently situation, that of several large and unstoppable machiensb earing down on their position. They're close now, very close, and the thunder of their foots steps reverberates through the earthen trenches the soldiers lie in. But then rises anotehr sound, perhaps one even more terrifying that the heavy steps of the walkers. It is an unfamiliar sound when one confronts the Empire, usually silent in their methodological attacks. A roar arises from the streets surrounding the plaza, the roar of hundreds... no, thousands of energy charged voices. The screams and yells of men filled with adrenaline, ready to take their hard fought reward. Imperial troops swarm forward from the protective coverings of the walkers, screaming in their charge toward the enemy. Blaster fire pours forth from their ranks as the first New Republic shots mow down the men in the forefront. But their charge is unrequitted: they have come this far, and now they are on the doorsteps of the Imperial Palace. Today, they will take home the ultimate prize for their Emperor.

As Kacela's group begins to move closer to the fray a few of her teammates are cut down almost instantly! The woman in the scout armour, on the other hand, manages to literally leap out of the way of one of the stray shots in a wonderful show of agility. Unfortunately, as she gets out of the way, someone else is shot and she curses quietly.. this is going to be hot. Kace closes her eyes and she skirts the edge of the plaza ducking in and out of cover, diving behind benches and the like. Of course, a bench or trash receptacle can easily become a good projectile and Kace reaches out to the force and hurls a trash receptacle in the direction of the firing, NR troops.. not that it will actually do much other than divert fire. if she's lucky, perhaps it will bop someone hard on the head. The charge in the air is electric, the screams of allies and enemies fuel her bloodlust and her senses.. and something stands out.. a presence.. somewhere among the swarm, giving Kace a target, if she can only find it.

The first of the shuttles touches down around the palace area, weapons blazing against any fool who sends a shot their way. As Kizuka and Darkholme's teams explode outwards and into firing positions, the rest of the airborne assault screams in, the ships landing in earnest now.. A brief firefight springs up along the palace front, but the fearsome effect of ship weapons on ground troops soon turns it in favour of the Imperial landers. Soon enough, the area is swarming with stormtroopers, dashing out with blasters at the ready, some dragging forth heavy equipment as well, in case of armoured resistance within.

"Assault section! Prepare to penetrate! Weapons are free... and get those charges up!" Yells Kizuka as the firing around the area begins to die down. Idly, a burst from his ST-II is fired off, cutting a poor NR trooper to shreds as he tries to flee. "Darkholme! Have your squad get the heavy weapons in case they have armour in there." Lifting his comlink, he rattles off a series of orders, and the assaulters make a move now towards the entrance to the palace, cutting down the few troops positioned between them and it. The shuttles provide a wall of fire with their laser cannons and turbolasers, to keep the backs of the assaulters clear, as the attack begins in earnest. "FOR THE EMPIRE!" Kizuka yells, and the cry is taken up as the airborne warriors launch their assault. A few desultory NR rounds detonate around them, shattering the armour and flesh of the odd stormtrooper.. but surely, worse awaits them within. As the Imperial bombardment begins, thundering behind them, adrenaline screams into Kizuka's body.. He's doing it.. He's leading the assault that WILL break through into the palace. What greater honour could he EVER aspire to? Charging into the Forlorn Hope now, he leads his troops onwards to their destiny.

Darkholme shakes his head at his commanders energetic behavior. Quietly he motions to his team to get the heavy weaponary ready for mobile deployment. Silently his team signs in and readies the weaponary that might be need inside the heavyily armed Palace. Glancing around quickly he orders several men who are not carry the heavy weapoins to start providing cover as the rest of them make they're way to the Palace...the final prize. Silently they move out of the dropship. Making sure they protect their primar squard as well they slowly advance.

In behind the walker, a grouping of heavy speeder like, quick moving, vehicles begins slowly advancing; for the moment they are content to allow the Walker to deal with the heavy defenses. Once a hole in the line presents itself they intend to swarm through it in behind the lines and do what they were designed to do: run down the Rebel forces like cavalry officers of old would have.

NR HoverTank Black Two is one of the few remaining battletanks firing at the oncoming AT-ATs. It's muzzle rises and red bolts of energy burst from the cannon, impacting on the lead walker which has already taken the brunt of the attack. Soldiers surrounding the tank back off cautiously, firing at the onslaught of Imperial troops. Falling by the handfuls, the battlezone is a nightmarish scene. The Palace bombing of a few months ago was a minor disturbance compared to this.


 * BLAMBLAMBLAM* go the AT-ATs. *BOOMBOOMBOOM* go a few tanks. And then, the NR redoubles their efforts. The APCs all unload seemingly at once in the midst of stormtroopers galore, sending a slew of Republic Troopers screaming to meet the onslaught, blasters and vibro-axes and whatever else they use in battle. The tanks fire bolts afury upon the AT-ATs, as do the artillery and everything else they have. A pure cacophonic din, really. Hard to hear anything except for the *SCHEESCHEE* of blasters, *SCHINKWHINESCHINK* of vibros, and *CHNKTHOOOOOM* of artillery.

From one of the many bunkers is Brain's entourage, who continually go *SCHEESCHEE* at the Empire, with the heavy blaster mounted behind them going at it too. What a mess, though, as people start dying, and blood starts to pool up.

It had held largely true in Mira's experience that inside of buildings were safer than the outside of buildings in cases such as this. And that soldier would not be able to point at her anymore. Scurrying through the shrubbery towards the palace, Mira finally arrives at a point where the foliage ends at the base of the stairs leading into the palace. The interior of the palace was, indeed, her intended destination, the Imperial shuttles landing on all the balconies serving to deter her little. Here, Mira hesitates, not sure if she wants to brave going up the stairs or not. There did seem to be an awful lot of people guarding them. And yet, it was clear that she wasn't really a soldier. She sits at the base of the steps in the foliage for a moment, pondering when her mind is made up for her. A blast of fire from the AT-AT screams towards her, landing only a few feet away, toasting the bush she sits in.

"AGGGH!" she screeches, darting out of the bush towards the stairs. "HEEELP AGGGH!" she yells, darting for the seemingly safe palace. Luckily for her, the soldiers at the door are far too busy worrying about the onslaught of Imperial forces to concern themselves with the handful of frightened citizenry that were too stupid to heed the warnings to stay away. Especially the seemingly homeless ones that lived in the plaza harassing tourists. It is for this reason that Mira manages to make it up the steps and past the soldiers guarding the palace steps. A handful of other homeless people had taken cover in there earlier, unable to find rides off the planet.

As the first line of Imperial troops advance into the Palace, past the now-smoking tank line, a line of explosions rocks the entrance to the Palace. Carefully laid explosives ignite and shrapnel flies in a shaped cone to the outside. The massive door frame begins to collapse and huge chunks of steel and stone fall down on the Imperial troops. but it doesn't stop them all. Like ants, more Imperials continue to pour into the Palace. As they do, the thousands of soldiers inside begins firing upon the entrance. With the cover inside this corridor, the battle could take a very long time.

The pounding of his heart in his ears and the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins drown out some of the sounds of the battle, turning the screams and blaster sounds into a blur of chaotic sound. His own voice is raised into a scream to join that of the New Republic soldiers and the Imperials alike, and the whir and buzz of his lightstaff joins the sound of the guns and canons. Sweat immediately forms on his brow and back, not because of the exertion, but because of the sheer heat of the battle. To be this close to the fury of a battle was akin to standing in a potter's kiln. The twin green ends of his staff move thoughtlessly, fluidly, and red blasts intended for his heart and face are deflected. Madness is a part of the battle along with the heat, and without warning or hesitation, Simon finds himself in the very midst of it, freezing him in his steps until an opportunity to flee presented itself.

The battle is like a field day for the scour armoured huntress, after her trash receptacle knocks down at least one rebel and confuses a couple more, Kace reaches fro something on her belt, something she had just finished the night before this grand battle. Her hand grips the cylindrical shaft at her belt and suddenly an amber blade of light snaps from the hilt! Who better to take back the palace than one of the emperor's chosen? As soon as the blade is up, kace begins to pound towards the swarm, and the presence within it that beckons her presence, even it if means that she's racing to an early grave. The team she came in with watch her race forward, but provide her cover with blaster fire and the like. The hunt is on, the blood runs thick and Kacela hears nothing but the beating of her heart and the thoughts of those around her. She is not yet within melee range, but, like Simon, she deflects shots aimed at her as she pareses forward.


 * CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUNCH* *SNAP* *SHREEEEK* The head of the Imperial walker providing cover for Heavy Assault Unit #34 explodes in a tremendous fireball and the hulk of the mechanized beast slumps. Death in slow motion, the humongous assault vehicles leans to its side and begins to fall away, but it is unwantedly caught by one of Coruscant's tremendous sckyscrapers, resulting in a hideous cacophony of straining metal and shattering glass as the war machine slams into the side of the building. The troops in the Heavy Assault Unit instinctively clutch their weapons and duck as the AT-AT falls away. Earlier in the day, their commander had told them the entire battle would rest on their shoulders, no pressure or anything. The commander was an old Imperial officer, well-seasoned and well-versed in the ways of war. A scruffy man, he had laid out the battle plan to them precisely, and how they were to break through the Rebel line. Now the time had come. Unfortunately, their commander was dead, his head having been seared from his body before they even got close. Now the responsibility rests upon the shoulders of his young protege -- all they have to do is break the line.

The Imperial officer climbs to his feet and shouts his orders, "Bombardment line forward!" Somewhere around a dozen troopers rush forward toward the Rebel line and knee cautiously, shouldering their heavy grenade launchers. Two men are picked off imemdiately before the command to "FIRE!" is issued. Grenades sail through the air toward the Rebel line, striking in a frighteningly precise manner. Arms, legs, heads, and equipment splatter in a number of directions, leaving a tremendous smoking hole in the Rebel's main line. A huge charred trench stands out amidst the perimeter of the defensive line, which is mostly engaged in fierce combat. "Line forward!" shouts the young commander, leading his men forward with their heavy blaster cannons, some with riot guns. "FIRE!" The men dive into position and being firing away relentlessly with their repeating weapons. They only need to keep the hole until the troops can get in.

There was a reason that the Telgosse, Simon's people, were a nomadic civilization. The fallen Selas, the Force wielders that had given themselves over to corruption, would find the villages and dwellings of the society that drove them out and attack, unleashing their vile power in a fashion that was as horrific as it was effective. The Telgosse never rooted themselves to one spot again.

Memories of fleeing a fallen Selas attack fill Simon's mind even as he dances about the plaza, arms pumping his staff into motion, blocking and deflecting blasts and providing some protection to the few New Republic soldiers nearest him. Memory and reality seem to fold into each other... and through the smoke and screams, the visage of Kacela, the Hunter, the Corrupter of Souls, comes into view.

With the new hole in the Rebel lines, the order each was waiting on goes out through the light mechanized group: power to the forward shields, charge at best possible speed.

The lead speeder lurches forward initiating the charge, the rest of the division quickly moving to follow. Each vehicle's shields are on, providing some small measure of protection (as much as shields on a vehicle slightly larger than a swoop can provide); on their fronts, a 'nerf catcher' like device looms with swiveling guns mounted underneath. Their speed is terrific as they leap into action, pulling up slightly to jump any remaining rubble. Within the bat of an eye they are pouring through the hole; like a plague of locusts they are ready to bring havoc to the area behind the Rebel lines.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, one of the blasts that blows a hole in the swarm of NR soldiers saves several of the men the pleasure of a quick and relatively painless death at the hands of Kace. The sith is close enough to the blast that the shock does push her back a few steps, and her armour heats up a little. When the smoke clears, her once white armour is now stained a gory red, complete with buts and pieces of poor, NR troops. The hole has opened up the perfect arena now and her covered eyes rest on Simon, who is foolishly risking himself to save the lives of the pitiful NR troops. Without doing her usual evil villain spiel, it's useless when the screams of the dying drown it out, Kacela levels her amber blade and begins to move swiftly through the dead and dying like a terrible beast. Her only thoughts are on Simon now, and the rest of the battle seems to move in slow motion around her as she moves swiftly forward.

In Simon's mind, he sees the fallen Selas that had ravaged his village when he was but a child. She moved with the speed of a lioness, spinning a savage staff of light with the same cruel cunning as a lioness's claws. He had hidden from the Lioness so long ago, yet her cruel stare had still cut through the death and smoke to pin him where he hid.

Kacela's eyes meet Simon's, and a sneer curls the edges of his lips. He was the Lion now, the Hunter's prey, and he was whole and in the open. There would be no guards to come out of the woodwork to draw him away this time. He would not cower as he had in the past. Hefting his lightstaff before him, he begins to move through the clearing, stepping mindlessly around the carnage that was a group of soldiers he'd meant to hold from death's grip. The Dance of the Blades was about to begin.

The hunter's sneer is hidden by the helmet that currently conceals her face, but Kacela knows full well that Simon knows that it is her, she stinks of death and decay.. in both a literal and metaphysical sense. Her amber blade hisses like an angry beast that is guarding its prey and she twirls it in her hand. She is out of practice with the blade, but this time she knows she was ready to build it, unlike her old blade, this one feels like an extension of herself.

Kacela's mind shifts now and instead of in a battlefield on Coruscant, she is in the jungle of Selene, hunting down her prey with nothing but her wits and a melee weapon With a wave of her hand. The bodies and body parts that squish beneath her feet become forest detritus, leaves, bud and other types of decay. The pounding of her heart provides music for her dance, and she leaps forward, raising her blade to strike at Simon.

Cannons to the left of them, cannons to the right of them... the bombardment from the Imperial armor doesn't cease as their troops push back and forth against the Rebel lines. The AT-AT's have decreased in activity though, as they fire more selectively for fear of hitting their own troops. The few remaining tanks and artillery placements are still fair game for the heavy walker blasters, and much of the fire is concentrated in that direction. The machines have halted their advance on the edge of the battlefield and stand there, firing around readily. It wouldn't do to go tromping in and aquish one's own troops, at least not yet. Once the Rebel line begins to suffer, then they will make their move.

Imperial troops pour into the breech in the line caused by the grenadiers as reserves come forward to take the fight to the interior of the plaza. As the speeders clear the way in front of the them, Stormtroopers rush about, pouring fire into the side and behind the ranks of the Rebels holding the front line. True, no small amount of these troops are gunned down by the Rebels closer to the Palace, but their presence is nonetheless felt as a greater portion of the New Republic line begins to falter around the original breakpoint.

The green lightstaff in Simon's hands snaps forward, each tip moving forward in rapid succession. Right-left-right, each tip slams into the press of Kacela's attack, crackling and emitting explosive sounds like the rapid fire of a laser turbine on full auto. The strikes are quick, and clearly intended only to smash back the offense of his opponent.

After the quick three-strike sweep, Simon steps back, his weapon still whirring and spinning before him as he prepares to defend and deflect. His eyes remain fixed on Kacela, cold as a rainy winter's night in the heart of the jungle.

The hunter growls and grunts as her amber blade clashes with Simon's, giving a fine show to those who still might be around to watch. The boy is good, that is for certain! As Simon attacks, Kacela moves like lightning, drawing on the pain and anguish of those dying around her to smoothly guide her motions, the sparks and hissing and the scent of ozone adding the the experience. The attack does force Kacela back a step, but as soon as Simon is finished, she sends another attack forward, making it look like she's going to send a sweeping swipe to Simon's torso, but shifting her attack at the last minute to a strike aimed at the young man's shoulder. her attacks are blindingly fast, just as Simon's are and their clashing blades set the rhythm for their recital.

The speeder group, once they are clear of the first line, begins to spread out as they pour into the infantry, firing into them and mowing them down like knights of old. The fortunate manage to scurry away, or dive under the charge, the unlucky end up shot by the under vehicle mounted blasters, or worse yet painting the fore of the speeders bright red with their blood. While the bodies that are beginning to mount do slow the vehicles down, and blaster shots occasionally cripple one, or dismount a 'pilot'. . . the battle does not halt them.

Sparks fly as green lightstaff meet orange lightsaber. Moving in and out of forms pressed into his mind at a young age, Simon's wrists snap his weapon around with a quickness to match Kacela's. With an almost ferocious air, Simon moves to block both attack areas presented by Kacela's feint. As Kacela's attack is blocked, Simon takes a step back and spins his staff once more to strike the orange blade of light in rapid succession with each tip, much like his first defensive maneuver against her.

And again, Simon takes another step back, carefully putting clear of the dismembered hand of a nameless New Republic soldier that had died explosively a few moments prior. A warrior could fight on unsure footing, but he could fight better on ground stable and clear.

The New Republic troops fall back towards the palace, knowing that the lives of the Senators inside were the most important stake in this battle. The Imperials had already driven the New Republic fleet away, and bombed the Military headquarters. They had, for all intents and purposes, won. The Palace was the trophy.

And according to the reports coming in from inside, the battle was not going well. And things were not going well out here either. Richard is among the troops pulled back into the palace, only a few brigades left to try and slow the Imperial advance and clear an area for the evacuation shuttle to land. Most of the troops retreat to help secure a path for the escape.

Swamps, forests and sand are the hunting grounds of Kacela and despite the slickness underfoot, she doesn't seem to be having too much difficulty. She blocks the volley with a shower of sparks and a growl grows in her throat, Simon is good.. as good as - or even better than- she is. Kacela takes a change of tack, her mind extends for a moment past Simon and she picks up a flicker of life from one of the fallen NR troops, senses his pain and fear and uses that to aid her in lifting the troop off the ground as she raises her hand! The still living man gasps as he is launched through the air towards Simon. How wonderful to be on a field of gory projectiles!

"They're breaking! Forward! Forward!" Another tremendous cry rises from the Imperial ranks as the New Republic soldiers fall before them, opening the way to the Palace. Stormtroopers struggle through the rows of bodies and mutilated parts, firing relentlessly as the Rebels begin to fall back. Imperial troops continue to fall left and right, particularly in those areas near the end of the Rebel line where the Imperial attack has not been the strongest. "Fire! Fire! Fire! Gun them down! Move it forward you--" An officer urging his troops near the front of the line is mowed down by an artillery blast, together with several of his comrades, as the foremost Stormtrooper ranks emerge from the inital line of conflict and engage in a running battle with the New Republic troops across the large span of ground separating the edge of the plaza from the palace itself.

As the Imperial ranks move across the plaza toward the Rebels repositioning themselves about the palace, the walker commander's seize the oppourtunity to improve their position. Four of the remaining machines lurch slightly as their massive legs come to life and propoel the beasts across the battlefield. Their monstrous legs pound, crunch, and squish the multitude of Imperial and Allaiance bodies into an interesting mix of armor and flesh wherever their feet happen to land. Before the New Republic forces can mass around the entrance to the palace, the AT-AT's level several well-placed shots in that direction, sending explosive clouds of dirt and humanity into the air. No, they will not allow the Rebels to make a stand their and drag this fight out even further. The Empire is close now, very close, and it is time to take advantage. Under the cover of AT-AT fire, Imperial troops rush forward, slaughtering any New Republic troops who stand between themselves and the palace gate. The bulk of the Imperial body moves in that direction, while reserves take on the remaining Rebel embankments elsewhere in the plaza, leaving the speeders to hunt down the scattering ranks. As the first Imperial troops reach the entrance, the whole structure unexpectedly explodes, sending the massive gate down on at least a squad's worth of Imperial troopers. Semi-stunned at the occurance, the Imperials take a few steps back. But the sight of the interior of the palace inspires them, and the rush forward into the maw of the tructure, firing at anything that moves.

The mechanized speeder unit, now moves into a mop up mode, gunning it after stragglers as they try to avoid being made a friendly 'fire' casualty. The carnage the quick vehicles create is enormous, often preferring to simply run down the men, rather than shoot them. Today they have proven their effectiveness, even if cleaning them up afterwards will prove to be a more arduous task than the battle itself.

A projectile is being tossed against Simon, and his senses pick out its mass, like a hurtled boulder. So his opponent had chosen the less honorable tact of tossing debris at him, to break his defensive stance. Simon would demonstrate that his lightstaff could cut down and block stone and concrete as well as it could beat back her lightsaber, or the blasts fired from blasters. With a quick twist, Simon spins about to meet the projectile, whirling his staff.

Before his strike cuts down and ends the life of the person tossed at him, he knows what it is he is about to do, and knows that it is too late. As the green tip burns its course through the soldier's body, Simon feels a tear burn through his soul, and pain as if it were his own body he were slicing through. Without breaking time, without a hitch in his step, he completes the spin and the cut, and the soldiers falls in parts around him. Coldly, he turns back to continue to face Kacela, another mark against her in his mind.