#If Exitus would have died there then it was very likely possible that the death would have possibly ended the campaign.

[echolynnetelf]

No stream today and maybe tomorrow, my brain is still in FF14/PF2e brainrot and refuses to release me from its clutches till I get the details sorted out with what happened with my character in the session last night.

To best explain the shit that had the table go absolutely crazy at the table, here's some memes for the jist of what went down after clearing (we think) the first part of the floor:

Needless to say, my poor identity-theft of a samurai now has much more burn scars to add to the ever growing collection of 🌟✨️trauma✨️🌟 and self-hatred.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Battle on the Citadel

Shenanigans.  Hopefully some cool battle scenes.  I will try to have the second part of this story out as soon as possible.  Enjoy.   “He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright, 

He checked off his equipment and made sure his pack was tight; 

He had to sit and listen to those awful engines roar, 

You ain’t gonna jump no more.”  -Blood Upon the Risers, paratroopers song

The air swirled as the shuttles touched down.  The acrid scent of coolant wafted through the air at the Turian and C-Sec lines in front of the Citadel.  Now designated with the unimaginative title “Command Post Alpha,” this was the main spot where shuttles would touch down to disgorge their contents of soldiers ready to take back the Citadel.  Engines whined, and hydraulics hissed as various shuttles, bearing their precious cargoes of soldiers and supplies, touched down.  Sharp and angular Turian ones, the Omen’s large and boxy troop-carriers, the Normandy’s sleek, yet rectangular ones, the Apocalypse’s heavy gunship carriers, and the distinctive three-winged transports of the Galactic Empire.  All these touched down, soldiers disembarking rapidly, and took off immediately to allow the next in line to land.  

Shepard, Vir, Quill, Cooper and Drake stood around a portable hologram projector as the various troopers milled around in organized chaos behind them.  Captain Viter of the Turian Hierarchy stood off to the side, urgently conversing with someone over his encrypted communications gear.  

“So we have the beginnings of a pretty sizable army here.  What do we do first?”  The question was addressed to Shepard, seeing as he had the most experience with the geography of the Citadel.  

“We should probably just do a general push throughout the Citadel to take the entire thing back.  Make sure there aren’t any hidden pockets of resistance.  We also don’t know who precisely is attacking or why, so we want to make sure there aren’t any hidden plans we’re missing.”  Everyone nodded their acceptance to this.  Cooper turned and looked back at the groups of milling soldiers. 

“First we have to get this mess in order,” he said.  

“Oh boy,” muttered Quill sarcastically.  

“Okay.  How do we do this?” asked Sheaprd, looking at the mixed group.  

“Get whoever’s in charge of each group and send them here for a tactical briefing,” suggested Vir.  

“Sounds good to me,” replied Drake.  “Saul!  Garang!  Rilgaldis!  Over here.”  He waved over the commanders of his armsmen.  The three marched over, the large lizard-like Rilgaldis wearing a set of ornamented armor, Garang wearing a massive suit of heavy beige and grey power armor, increasing her height by at least four inches, and Saul wearing a suit of black combat armor with strange metal bracing throughout.  They nodded at the Scoundrels and rechecked their weapons as the group commanders were called over. 

Maverick of the Omen’s marines and Captain Detoi of the Valhallan 597th followed, Maverick wearing a typical urban camouflage patterned suit of combat armor and Detoi wearing an Aquilia emblazoned set of grey-blue flak armor.  

 A raven-haired woman, wearing an extremely tight, form-fitting black and white suit walked over to converse with Shepard; Vir recognized her voice as that of Miranda Lawson, Shepherd’s Executive Officer.  She was followed by Garrus Valkarion, lugging Drake’s gift of an Exitus Rifle.  Captain Viter gave him a weird look, then followed him over to the projector.  

Gamora appeared behind Quill, startling him.  Last to arrive were two figures wearing the white and black armor of the Imperial Stormtroopers and Death Troopers, respectively.  

“First off: who are you two?” asked Vir, gesturing to the two latest arrivals.  

“You can call me Commander Blaine,” responded the white armored Stormtrooper.  

“DT-997731.”  Emotionless.  Cold, dark, and blank.  As a Death Trooper should be.  Not making him any friends, though.  

“You can all introduce each other when you get in your groups.  For now, let’s just get this started,” cut in Drake.  

“Fine,” replied Shepard.  “Here’s the Citadel,” he said bluntly.  “Here’s where we are.”  A glowing dot appeared next to the Citadel Tower, located in the center of the massive station.  “We need to clear the entire station.”  He turned to the rest of the individuals huddled over the projector.  “Cooper, you’re fast moving recon.  You’ll be by yourself.”  Cooper nodded his consent.  

“That’s how I operate best.”  

“Good.  Now…” Shepard paused and looked around, calculating precisely what he would need.  “Vir and I will be taking a large strike force up the center area to the Promenade.  My ground team, Vir’s Marines, the Drev clan, and both sets of Imperials; Galactic Empire and Imperium of Man will be coming with us.  We get there, take out what is likely to be one of the largest groups of resistance, then split up as necessary.  Quill and Drake will be taking their own selected teams the other way.  Understood?”  A chorus of affirmations greeted his words.  “Good.”

“I’m picking my team,” interjected Drake.  “Second and Third squads of my armsmen are going with Shepard and Vir.  First squad with me.  Oliver, Mark, and Muelka with me.  Kraiker with them.”  Cooper and Vir glanced at each other as Drake got a sudden malicious gleam in his eyes.  He broke off from the group around the projector and went through the various huddled soldiers, and started to select specific individuals.  

“You and your team.”  Captain Federer, the 597th demolitions officer and his squad of engineers dutifully followed.  

“You.”  A short woman, covered in tattoos and wearing nothing except pants and two carefully placed straps over her chest stepped out from Shepherd's ground team.  Shepard gave an apprehensive glance to Drake, who was grinning maniacally at this point.

“You.”  An older man with battle-scarred armor from Shepard’s team.

“You and you.”  Ramirez and Maverick from Vir’s marines.  Vir had a very good idea what Drake was doing.

“Aaaannd… you.”  Rocket Raccoon from Quill’s team.  Drake turned back to the other Scoundrels at the projector.  “Okay!  I’m good to go.”

“I recommend staying outside a general kilometer radius from that particular team,” muttered Vir.  

“I thought you said you didn’t want to blow up the Citadel,” Shepard deadpanned.  Drake shrugged.  

“Times change.”  He wheeled around and gestured for his team to follow.  “Come my glorious minions!  Explosions, violence, and general tomfoolery are to be had by all!”  Quill shook his head as Drake’s team filed out.  

“He’s taking my guys so I’ll take his.  His Second squad and Captain Viter’s Turians are with me.  C’mon.  I have no plan, so we’re just winging it.  As per frickin’ usual.”  Viter shot Shepard and Vir a quick apprehensive look before being dragged away by Quill.  

Cooper gave a nod to the two remaining Scoundrels, before pulling on his helmet and jogging towards the area of attack.  

Shepard and Vir looked at each other again, somewhat lost.  

“Okay then,” muttered Vir.  “Blaine!  Detoi!  Get over here!  Let’s go!”  

Approximately Five Minutes Later

Shepard ducked and dodged as fire spilt upon his kinetic barriers.  He rolled, then tucked forward as a grenade went off behind him.  Two Valhallans were tossed in the air, screaming.  A combat medic slid up to them and started to tend their pulverised legs as bullets whizzed through the air.  

Kinetic barriers.  Very useful devices.  They had kept him alive through many a firefight, blocking shrapnel and shell alike.  He grimaced as a Death Trooper let loose with a fully-automatic barrage of blaster fire.  A Cerberus trooper across the massive open gardens area screamed as he died, his torso filled with burning holes.  Too bad kinetic barriers wouldn’t stop energy weapons.  

Not that he particularly minded in this instance, he thought as he unslung Drake’s gift of a plasma gun.  He let loose a stream of molten plasma bolts, melting away a group of traitor C-Sec agents along with their cover.  

He sprinted forward, then slid into a crater next to Vir and Detoi.  The wreck of an ATLAS mech stood nearby, the very thing that had caused the massive dent in the Citadel before being brought down by armored piercing missiles.  Shepard had originally thought the mechs to be exceptionally large and terrifying; one of the few two legged things that actually frightened him.  That was before he’d seen Cooper’s much bigger and heavily-armed Titan in combat.  Still, they were nevertheless powerful, and one of the reasons the assault on this massive hotel had bogged down in the gardens in front.  

Vir poked his head over the edge of the creator and fired his rifle indiscriminately at the machine gun positions located on the hotel’s second floor.  Detoi was busy chattering on a bulky radio set with an unknown party.  

  “Last time I was in a war this intense it was just a bunch of bugs,” grumbled Vir.  “They didn’t put up machine gun positions like this.”  The three occupants of the crater flinched as an ATLAS mech heavy cannon tore up the ground only meters from their position.  “Damn.  They didn’t have those, either.”  Detoi hung up his radio receiver.  

“We aren’t going to be able to push through this without armor or air support.  I talked to Cain and Cooper.  We’re getting Titan and Scion support.  They also talked to one of the diplomats, apparently, and-” the ground shook as the heavy mech took a rocket directly to the engine compartment and blew up with a six meter high fireball.  “-shit.  Anyway.  There are drop troopers coming in behind the hotel to cut off their retreat.  So we just huddle down here, and wait for the right moment.”  

Above the Citadel

The incessant drone of gunship engines whined in the background as the elite soldiers of the Tempestus Scions checked each others’ weapons and grav-chutes one last time.  They stood against the grey metal interior of the back of the craft, ready and waiting for the ramp to deploy.  Deep, midnight blue armor covered their bodies and faces.  Red helmet lenses glowed menacingly in dim interior lighting.  

“One minute!” came the pilot’s voice over the intercom.  One of the Scions, armor much more ornate than his fellows, stepped to the side.  

“This is a hot drop onto a centrifugal-force gravitational space station,” he shouted over the engines’ racket.  “Nothing’s going to go wrong, though, because you’re the best.  All hostiles are to be purged.  No non-hostile xenos are to be harmed.  Inquisitors’ orders.  Elimination protocols sanctioned.  The Emperor protects.”  He gave a nod to his squad.  

“The Emperor protects!” replied a gravelly chorus.  

“Fifteen seconds!” came the pilot’s voice once more.  The Scions shuffled forward in the dim lighting, looking at a single glowing red light on the near the end of the space.  The ramp at the end of the gunship lowered, allowing the group inside to see outside, onto the arms and artificial sky of the Citadel.  At the very edges of the view were the other Valkyrie gunships of the squadron, deploying the full contingent of the Watch Eternal’s Scions onto the Citadel.  

“Three!  Two!  One!”  The red light turned green.  The two closest to the ramp took two steps and launched themselves into space, followed by the rest of the squad, then their commander.  

It should be noted that grav-dropping into a hot LZ is against the laws of common sense and warfare.  It should also be noted that Tempestus Scions don’t care what filthy xenos or heretics think.  

Aboard the UNSC Fifth Winter

Clean black surfaces glimmered with the blue and white lighting common aboard UNSC starships.  Groups of soldiers, wearing green combat armor, chose, checked, and looked over weapons from a huge, hallway-spanning armory.  Some made jokes to each other, others complained over the fact that they were deploying in what was supposed to be a comfortable diplomat protection detail.  

Quiet footsteps sounded as the groups of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were called to their pods.  They strode over the black grated metal walkways to banks of sleek drop pods.  Clambering in, they pulled down metal restraints and strapped themselves in.  

Small screens on the sides of the pods lit up with the images of two blank helmeted ODST’s.  

“We are dropping in behind the hotel shown in the briefing.  We are to stop any hostile forces from escaping.  Make sure you don’t fire on any friendlies,” came the curt voice of the ODST commander.  

Heavy claws roasted the pods into position.  Through the front windows, the troopers inside could see down to the Citadel.  The black void of space mixed with the blue of the massive station’s artificial sky.  No problem.  This is what they all trained for.  It was in the name.  

“Ready for drop.  Three.  Two.  One.  Drop.”  The pods were fired from the carrier, and the ODST’s began their descent to the surface of the station.  

On the Citadel

“These guys are fucking insane!” exclaimed Shepard.  Throughout the battlefield, the firing did not abate, but Vir was sure people on both sides would be looking to the sky.  Shepard pointed at the Imperial gunships, spilling troopers out of them.  “They’re doing a sub-orbital drop onto a space station with centrifugally-generated gravity!” he continued.  Some part of Vir had to agree.  

However, the vast majority of the esteemed Admiral Adam Vir was almost squealing with delight.  He was leading Imperial Stormtroopers, for God’s sake.  From Star Wars.  A childhood dream come true.  Then there were the reinforcements.  He looked up again.  The meteor-like streaks of ODST drop pods and the contrails of Valkyrie gunships shone clearly against the sky.  He knew about the Halo video games.  Hell, there were copies of a lot of old Earth games in the Omen’s recreation room, Halo included.  So, while he was inclined to agree that this was fucking insane, it was also fucking awesome.    

“And those guys,” this was accompanied by a finger pointing to the drop pod streaks, “Are doing a full orbital drop.”  

“They know what they’re doing,” said Detoi, though he looked apprehensive.  

“They’re insane,” repeated Shepard.  “Too bad I’m not up there with them.”  Shepard grinned over to Vir.  “Oh, man!  Can you imagine that?  N7 Special Forces doing an orbital insertion like that?  You pilot, we drop?”  Vir grinned back.

“Sounds like we have something to do after this mess is over.”  He was cut from his thoughts by Detoi.

“I’m no expert, but they’re… cutting it kind of close, aren’t they?”  Sure enough, the Scions were still in arms-outstretched free fall much lower than they should be.

“Yeah, they are,” muttered Vir.  He couldn’t do anything about that other than just watch and hope the Scions truly did know what they were doing.  

The falling troopers started to approach the height of the tallest buildings on the Citadel, and, just as Vir was certain they had judged it too late, the Scions flipped from belly forward, arms-outstretched postures to feet first.  Blue jets appeared on their packs, and their descent abruptly slowed.  The ODST’s drop pods started to jink and thrust, avoiding ground fire and coming into a perfect trajectory to crash behind the back of the hotel.  

Ignoring the heavy weapons chattering over their heads, the Scions hit the ground hard.  They rolled forward, and immediately started a pattern of fire-and-advance.  Reddish orange lasers flew through the air, impacting against the architecture of the hotel.  Vir moved up in the crater, but Detoi held out a hand to stop him.  

“Wait one.  We have heavy armor support incoming.  Then we’ll crack this place open like an egg.”

Question: What is a grav-chute?  A grav-chute is basically like a jetpack, except instead of boosting someone up against gravity, it merely slows someone’s descent into safe levels. 

And, that’s that.  If you have any comments, criticisms, questions, requests, or concerns, feel free to contact me.  Enjoy your day.