Dominion Acid Party | First Order Dominion of Solem & Taul

[Resurgent Vignette]

Even the most backwater of backwater worlds has something to offer the First Order. So it is for Solem and Taul, planets in the Outer Rim of nominal value on first glance. Taul, an acidic planet that kills almost everything it touches, has (according to our intelligence sources) been largely devoid of civilization since ancient times, when the Rebel Alliance had a base there. The First Order sent a scientific team there in recent months to investigate whether its harsh climes could be settled via terraforming, but the team has stopped reporting in. Before they went quiet the team reported that, while they had not encountered civilized life, they had encountered hostile creatures on the planet, including steel-eating spiders. Despite the horrors that await in the corrosive environment, First Order scientists suspect there is some redeeming value in the chemicals that make up the acid on the planet…​

Meanwhile, in the neighboring system of Solem, the First Order has reached out for diplomatic contact with the natives and have been invited to a summit and to participate in war games. It is thought that the native Solem species are interested in determining the First Order’s strength before agreeing to join. While our diplomats work their magic, our military team can put on a show.​

Spoiler: Objectives & Graphics

The First Order’s science team has gone silent, a chilling echo of Kaeshana. They had been dispatched to the acidic world of Taul to determine whether the planet could be redeemed through terraforming or other methods. Determine the fate of the scientific team and recover the data they gathered. If there are survivors, extract them. If they were attacked or otherwise injured, determine by whom and why and, as necessary, eliminate any threats. Be on the lookout for wild animals, as they are known to be quite vicious on Taul.

Upon arriving on the surface of Taul, our scouts were ambushed by an unknown group wearing breathing apparatuses that appeared to let them survive in the acidic environment. The scouts were ambushed and badly injured, but managed to escape, reporting that their attackers traveled by airboats that were decorated in neon and blasting loud, bass-heavy party music. Our best guess is that their breathing apparatuses are interacting badly with the acidic gas on the planet, resulting in a hallucinogenic substance. Your task is to uncover the nature of these rave-goers and, if necessary, eliminate them. Glowsticks have been provided in your duty packs.​

First Order diplomats have been invited to parley with a clan of Solem’s natives, a species for which we have no record. They have expressed an interest in joining the First Order following the summit and war games with First Order forces.​

Participate in wargames with Solem’s locals. They are technologically limited and lack more sophisticated equipment, but if First Order forces can best them in feats of strength and combat on equal terms, it will go a long way towards convincing them that they will be well looked-after in the First Order.​

Bring Your Own Objective (BYOO).

---

“Seals holding,” reported Lieutenant Ivy Dexter over the comlink. “Air quality outside is poor but interior sensors indicate seals are holding, at least at this altitude and concentration. We will continue to monitor on the way down.”

“Affirmative,” Captain Petrov responded from the bridge of the AT-ST deployment ship. “Keep an eye on it. T-minus three minutes to drop.”​

If Lt. Dexter was concerned about the seals, she didn’t show it. Not to her AT-ST co-pilot or the other members of the crew. She keyed her comlink in the affirmative and mounted the ladder to the entry platform, then dropped down through the hatch of the landing pod and the AT-ST. She made herself comfortable in the pilot’s seat, beginning the pre-drop checklist. Forty five seconds later she keyed the comlink on again and said: “This is Dexter. Pre-launch complete. Please clear the drop pod for launch in two minutes.” She switched to the team channel. “Lids on and breathers going, gang,” she said. “Get in.”​

The crew followed her up the ladder and into the pod, then into the AT-ST. The pod shuddered and shifted as it was prepared for launch, and a timer appeared on her helmet HUD, racing towards zero. “Strap in and brace,” said Dexter to her cabin crew. “Launch in thirty.” Dexter checked her crash webbing and her helmet seals and then, before she knew it, the HUD timer hit zero and the pod lurched. She watched the graphic on her control panel illustrating the pod’s journey to the planet. The thrusters maintained a safe speed -- just this side of G-force levels that would render them unconscious -- all the way down to the planet. They landed with a terrible clang! “Scout Walker Alpha has landed at coordinates 192-1138. Pod is throwing errors. Please confirm you’re receiving signals.”​

“Affirmative,” said Petrov again. “Seals on the pod are showing deterioration. Can you open the pod?”​

“Stand by,” said Dexter. She worked the machinery controls and the pod began to unfold, slowly. Then, as the machinery began to chug and struggle, the pod panels collapsed, melted from the bottom. “Yes, but the pod has fallen apart due to the acid we landed in. Moving forward in the walker now.” She piloted the AT-ST forward, and Dexter was encouraged by the scout walker being able to move forward, until the leg, too, collapsed, sending the ship lurching forward onto a swampy bank. “Hell,” she grunted. “Team, get the walker hatch open and get out of here. Command, we, uh, have a bit of a problem. The alloys used in our AT-AT are no match for the acid down here. We lost a leg and the rest of the walker is slowly dissolving into the acid. We’re going to leave the walker. Distress beacon going up now.”​

“Understood,” said Petrov. “Stand by and try to stay out of the acid.”​

“Copy that.”​

In the distance, Dexter heard an odd noise. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. But whatever it is, it was coming closer. After a few seconds, the acid was trembling. “Get to cover,” she barked at her team. They dissolved into the brush on the small island as the sound got louder, and they drew their sidearms. It was only as the airboat came careening around the side of another island and into view that she realized what the sound was: a strong bass line for a banging rave song. The airboat was crewed by six people -- well, piloted by one with five others saving glowsticks around and dancing to the rhythm of the song. The airboat slowed to a halt against the island and the people onboard immediately began to chatter excitedly, gesturing at the AT-ST that was in the process of dissolving in the acid.​

“Harmless scavengers,” said Dexter. She stood and raised her free hand, calling out. She was greeted with blasterfire. They weren’t very good shots; Dexter’s team took them out in short order. She studied the airboat; it seemed to be made of something impervious to the acid. “Command, I have an idea. Sending you a scan. We’ll commandeer this craft and proceed with the mission. Please inform other operations in the area that the scavengers aboard the airboats may be hostile.”​

“Lieutenant Dexter,” said the Captain. “What is that god-awful noise?”​

“It’s a mobile rave, Command. I can’t seem to find a way to turn it off…” Her voice trailed off. “Lewis, see whether you can find anything useful on those scavs. We’ll keep you posted, Command.”

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

​

As the heavily modified airboat skimmed over the surface of the acidic swamp at reckless speed, Dresden was forced to admit that he was having a good time. He wasn't in his normal gear for this mission, or even a protective suit. His outfit could best be described as minimalist: khaki cargo shorts, combat boots, and rippling abs. His hair was grown out long on top, shaved on the back and sides, and worked into an elaborate braid. His goatee was similarly braided, and his mustache was waxed into thick curls. Not that you could see either under the full face respirator he wore, the only concession to safety the parameters of the mission allowed.

Stupid? Reckless? Absolutely. Essential? Debatable, but no one had a better plan.

After the scouts found themselves attacked by the oddly violent mobile rave that raced across the surface of Taul, attempts to find and eliminate them from orbit were futile. The fumes from the noxious wetlands did a remarkably good job of obscuring overhead imagery, and random pockets of gas made bombardment hazardous in the extreme. Military expeditions strong enough to deal with the threat were avoided, while smaller expeditions were savaged. So, Dresden decided to try a different approach: if you can't beat them, join them.

His small flotilla of airboats had no visible weaponry, though the decks were littered with everything from small arms to rocket launchers and recoilless rifles. The personnel manning them were all volunteers, pulled from both the military and FOSB. Everyone on the roster had some experience with raves, which had made for an...interesting work call. The swamp's acid was strong enough to be seriously dangerous if someone fell in, but brief skin contact typically just burned a little, so they could get away without heavy protective gear that would have otherwise given them away.

The boats themselves were massively overpowered for the job, capable of covering ground with startling rapidity, but for the most part, they were just cruising. Massive banks of speakers blared EDM across the wetlands, loud enough to be heard from miles around. It was dusk, so naturally, brightly colored strobes were flashing in time with the music, and everyone, save for the pilots, was dancing. The chemlight budget alone was astounding.

Dresden was currently involved in a three way danceoff with a young, fit human male and a Twi'lek female with bright blue skin that stood out attractively against their lime green surroundings. The male was similarly dressed, though his shorts were black, so as not to clash with his chestnut skin. The Twi'lek wore a violently pink sports bra and leggings. Both were extremely good dancers, too. He had never been the most skilled dancer in the ballroom, but raves? These were his people. This was his kingdom. He shuffled and bobbed to the music, his feet and hands always in motion, the impromptu dance floor of the oversized airboat's deck giving him plenty of room to work. For the first time since he'd come back to life, he was really and truly having fun.

​

 

[Delilah Graham]

Moff Graham stood in her office on Dosuun, overlooking Avalonia. Her communicator chimed and she activated it remotely. "Graham," she said.

"Moff Graham, we've got the Taul group on the line."

"Put them through," said Delilah. She picked up her coffee from the nearby table and went to the conference table, sitting at the head. She activated the communicator. "Good morning, Agents. Welcome to Taul. The First Order is proceeding with operations in the area, but I have a special assignment in mind for you. We have decoded the files of Dr. Molotov on Alpinn and the lab in the Star Destroyer destroyed in the Red Nebula. The scientific data we were able to retrieve suggests that a certain fungus and plants grown in some acidic environments may prove useful for the development of a treatment for the Blackwing Virus."

She paused and transmitted relevant portions of the data to the team.

"You've been equipped with sensitive scanning devices programmed to identify species of flora that match the chemical makeup required to synthesize the treatment. Tread carefully and be aware that you are not alone on Taul. Proceed with caution to the coordinates listed, where surface scans indicate you may find a cave system in a region with a diverse flora. Any questions?" She paused. "Then I'll leave you to prepare. Report back with results."

 

[Caio]

Shuttle Four en route to Solem surface


Caio's stomach clenched as the shuttle detached from the Imperial cruiser, that little moment of freefall as they left the larger ship's gravity. The grimaces coming from some of the others showed that he wasn't alone. The rumble of the engines reverberated through the hull, the shuttle accelerating away from the ship and towards Solem. Caio screwed his eyes shut, letting the wave of nausea pass before he opened them.

The NCOs and Lt. Kaza didn't appear fazed at all. They'd probably spent more time in space the last year or so than he had on land. Somhairle caught Caio's eye from the other row and winked. "Feeling it?" he called out mockingly. "I'm not" Caio shot back, trying unsuccessfully to shrug in the restraint harness. He feigned nonchalance but the effect was ruined by a cackle from three seats down. "Lad, you've been getting spacesick ever since we left Coillte".

"Less of the tree talk?" Kanner pleaded in Basic, "It's like listening to someone clearing their throat". That got the ire of about nearly every Coilltean in the shuttle, eyes on the interloper. "Rich talk" Somhairle said "Your homeworld is what, 90% desert? There's probably more fertile soil on my roof than on your entire planet". Kanner spluttered a response but piped down. Somhairle seemed to extend an olive branch by continuing in Basic. "What does anyone know about this world anyways?"

The briefing hadn't exactly been illuminating. War games, which typically ended up with higher casualties than actual combat if Caio's experience was to be believed. Stormtroopers from the Relentless had played enemy party for his graduating exercise. Over a dozen individuals from both sides had ended up in the infirmary.

"So we go down there and kick some dirtworld arse?" Doyle sounded like he was almost looking forward to it. "Not quite" interjected an educated voice. A near collective groan sounded as they recognised Jalik speaking though a couple seemed to perk up in anticipation of the entertainment. Caio didn't mind personally. Jalik might have been a bit of a knowitall but he was less of a bonehead than some others in the platoon.

"Don't leave us hanging then" Doyle said, sarcasm dripping from every word. Jalik beamed, no doubt thrilled to have a captive audience. "Well it's a display of strength. The Solemites" "Solemians" cut in Somhairle. "Solemish" came a third voice before Jalik held up his hands for quiet "-have asked the First Order here to negotiate their joining. But why would someone join a weak power? The war games allow us to match their strength on equal terms and display why it is a good idea".

Kanner shook his head "I don't get it, why are we part of it then? Most of us haven't even been in the army a year". Jalik winced a little "Well, Solem is, how would you say, less technologically sophisticated than other worlds? Perhaps the powers that be feel the 416th might have something in common?" Realisation dawned for half the shuttle. Most of the regiment was raised from worlds that had been forgotten about on the frontier, almost barbaric in comparison to the coreworlds. Many struggled with Basic and recruit training had been a painstaking exercise for instructor NCOs who'd displayed unmatched levels of patience.

Caio broke the silence. "So, what are we talking? Stones? Spears? Slugthrowers?". Jalik shrugged, "I don't know everything" he admitted, being cut off by a chorus of jeers. The sounds of the engines increased in volume as the shuttle broke into Solem's atmosphere.

 

[Virginia Schnapp]

Virginia disconnected the call and tucked her comlink into a protective arm pocket. She didn't know whose poodoo list she was on that her assignment was to go mushroom picking on a planet that, in addition to actively trying to kill her with a toxic environment and plenty of acid, was also covered in fauna that would actively try to kill her if they had half a chance. Luckily, she was on a land-mass and would not likely be exposed to the acid of the swamps others in the area would have to work in.

Well, no point complaining about it. Best just get on with it.

She climbed onto the skiff and ran through the user manual quickly before checking with the rest of the team. When all the gear had been stowed and the collection containers set up, she took control of the skiff. In moments, they were racing across the flatlands of Taul towards the rocky outcropping to the northeast, where in the foothills of the mountains, First Order intelligence suggested that they might find plants that could be used to synthesize a treatment for the Blackwing Virus.

 

[Arrik Straden]

​

Equipment: F-11E Blaster Rifle, SE-44F Blaster Pistol, 'Rupture' Knuckle-Plate Vibroblade, Baradium-core Thermal Detonator, FO-02 Stormtrooper Armor
Tags: Open

Lieutenant Straden checked the environmental seals on his armor one last time as the AAL descended to the surface, bathed in the crimson glow of the lander's internal lights. The 02 armor hadn't let him down during the Sundering, he hoped it wouldn't here either; he hadn't survived that whole mess only to die on an acid-soaked backwater as a puddle. Suffice to say, Taul wasn't exactly on Arrik's top ten vacation worlds, but then again as a Stormtrooper the places he was deployed to rarely were. With his F-11E's barrel resting on his shoulder, he turned to address his squad.

"Alright men, you know the drill, standard recovery job. Find out what happened to the eggheads, recover their data, extract them if any are still alive. Eliminate any hostiles. And don't dip anything in a puddle that you don't want to lose. Any questions? No? Good. Landfall in 20."

Simple enough op.

Then again, that's what they always say, isn't it? Things rarely stayed simple for long, and too many "simple ops" ended with good soldiers dying cold and alone in pools of their own blood. Shouldering the stock of his rifle, he counted down the seconds in his head as the lander finished its descent. 3....2...1..., and then the crimson light turned a bright green as the ramp lowered, barely missing a pool of acid. The gunner atop the lander opened fire on a spice spider that had wandered near the LZ, though its death seemed to alert its companions and soon they had a small herd of the things bearing down on them. Straden and his squad fired at the creatures, making sure to not step onto the acid puddles around them as they disembarked the AAL.

"Secure the LZ, then we head for the science team's last coords."

 

[Sun-Shin Tae]

Jaida Tess | Vernon Hectis | Matt the Radar Tech | Drexel Quinn | Masayu Kimura | Kim Dae-Hyun
[OPEN]
​

Parlay and summit meant, drinking. ​

​

At least to the natives, therefore it seemed that only if the First Order could out last the natives in a drinking contest would they join the First Order. Tae was sure that there were worst ways for diplomacy to be negotiated. Still, she was there to help do her part and if that meant sitting down opposite of a native Solemite, Solemian? Then she would definitely do so. Beside her sat some of the Navy and Starfighter Corps' finest and as she took a deep breath, and exhaled. Tae felt nervous, particularly because she had no idea what exactly they would be drinking or how hard it would hit. ​

​

Still. ​

​

Tae looked to her left and right and then straight ahead as a member of the First Order's delegation poured the first round for them.​

​

She was still trying to grasp sitting there at a very long table, dressed finely with ornate covers and fine dinnerware. Tae watched as the alcoholic beverage was poured, bottoms up... She exhaled again, and placed her hand around the glass. The gun went off and the drinking began.​

 

[Drexel Quinn]

Sun-Shin Tae Matt the Radar Tech Jaida Tess Vernon Hectis Masayu Kimura Kim Dae-Hyun ​

Best kind of alliance was one formed over drinks, right?

Quinn joined in with some other Navy and Starfighter Corps in traveling to Solem for a drinking contest with the locals, a much-needed relief from the stress of other recent missions he had been involved in. Beside him was Captain Sun-Shin Tae, who he could tell was a spot nervous about the contest. Quinn himself? Not so much. He was always up for a drink, better if it was free, and even better if it won the First Order allies. A triple win in his book. Always open to trying new drinks, as long as they didn't kill him.

The handsome Dosuuni pilot slipped off his gloves, tucked them into his pocket, and rolled up the sleeves of his uniform, smiling to Tae as she looked up and down the table, then put his hand around the glass as his mystery drink was poured. The gun went off, and the practiced drinker wasted no time bringing the glass to his lips and downing the glass' contents.

 

[Matt the Radar Tech]

[ Sun-Shin Tae | Drexel Quinn | Jaida Tess | Vernon Hectis | Masayu Kimura | Kim Dae-Hyun ]

---

​

The circumstances for the summit had been surprising, to say the least. Mitth'orn'eruod had expected diplomacy talks, with some cuisine and beverage imbibing certainly, but to be presented with the opposite of that expectation had been... unexpected. Still, the Chiss would follow through with his orders, regardless of how unorthodox, and he would follow the host's lead. It just so happened the Solem delegation wanted to engage in a drinking contest, which raised several questions, the foremost of which was whether alliances secured over so simple a task could be trusted, but far be it for Mitth'orn'eruod to question the methodology of a newly encountered species - at least for him.

When I have more time to prepare, I will delve more into their culture and societal structures. But for now...

With a glance to his fellow First Order colleagues, Mitth'orn'eruod took some solace in the fact another officer - Captain Tae - seemed to have little concern with the situation, beyond securing the alliance. That meant less risk of being questioned over the 'how' of the delegations mission, as they could present a unified front if asked about particulars, though whether that would even be a concern remained to be seen. At the end of the Parsec, it all came down to completing an objective, and soldiers also had to be capable of adapting as mission parameters shifted and changed. So, a drinking contest it would be, diplomacy through drinking rather than talk...

"Ch'at carcun'co en'castehi..." Mitth'orn'eruod said to himself, as he lifted the glass of unknown liquid and gave it a small sniff. "To future alliances."

There was a gunshot from nearby, and the Solem natives began to drink alongside the First Order. Mitth'orn'eruod didn't know the specifics of the contest, but he eyed a green-skinned individual not far away and decided to keep pace with that sentient. So long as the Chiss wasn't last to down a beverage, and maintained the same drink-for-drink count, he supposed he wouldn't be penalized or removed from the contest. It also remained that Mitth'orn'eruod could prove to be valuable to the effort, due to his advanced biology for his species, though he didn't discount the constitution of the pilots and other First Order delegates. Humans had proven more resilient than expected over the years, and while Mitth'orn'eruod still maintained an appropriate level of suspicion and caution around other species, he could admit that humans were... growing on him.

This will certainly be an interesting event.

Then Mitth'orn'eruod lifted the glass to his lips and consumed the beverage...

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Tanileu had been with one of the airboats, and to be honest - this had to be one of the strangest ops she'd been part of. The Commando was sure that there was somewhere else she could be to actually do something but the report of attackers and neon decorations in tandem with loud, bass-heavy rave music. "Suppose there was going to be an op about as crazy as this," the op in the Red Nebula notwithstanding. Tanileu inhaled, and then exhaled if it was one thing Gilarians were particularly skilled at - it was partying.​

​

Currently Dresden Verbrennung was in the middle of a dance off.​

​

On her part, she was busy showing off some fancy manuevers with the rave glowsticks that command had provided. She seemed to have some admirers in the form of two Pantoran women and at least one Rattataki lady who kept giving her that thirsty look. Of which, Tanileu was semi-inclined to accept, if she wasn't on the job. The swamp on the other hand made her nervous, her experiences on Mephout made her that way - damn blackwing virus. The Commando kept her focus as the bass dropped and the music continued to flood the area drowning out any other audio.​

​

​

​

 

[Krayzen Dratos]

Objective 1
How boring...

Being deployed to recover a team of scientists. Aedan would have rather chosen a celibate life as a force hermit. Armed with his typical equipment, the Imperial Knight smiled as he looked on at Arrik Straden . Not seeking to lead, he decided to deputize himself and play a supplementary role. His days of leading troops were long gone. That, and he hadn't seen combat in a while. Well... excluding his previous bounty missions.

Looking on, he saw the various troops that were under his command. He wondered if they found him to be odd, Aedan barely known in the First Order, something he hoped to keep hidden. Compared to the typical blaster rifle that they had, Aedan chose to bring in a weapon he designed himself from his days in the One Sith.

"Any orders... sir?" His tone conveyed how odd he felt uttering that sound. While he spoke, he attempted to sense any hostile creatures, while maintaining his own signature. Even as a new member, he felt the lives of AU-1130's unit depended on him, and he was extremely keen on making sure no one died.

 

[Caio]

Surface of Solem

Solem was an eye-opener in more ways than one.

First was the natives. Big, mean, and green. They were humanoid at least but they looked strong enough to pull Caio's arms off. Next was their technology. He'd never thought he'd find a planet that made Coillte look advanced. It wasn't just the fact they had slugthrowers, his homeworld had them too. It was how brutal and cobbled together some of the stuff looked. Their armour looked more suited for melee, that metal would overheat the moment a blaster shot struck it and cauterise any flesh beneath it.

They'd been formed up in ranks while their head honcho paraded about in front of them, haranguing them in the planet tongue. A translator gave a polite version. The brave warriors of Solem welcomed those of the First Order and were eager to test their mettle. To ensure an equal fight, both sides would use traditional weaponry and forgo their usual ranged weapons. With that, he held aloft a modified spear.

"Is he serious?" Somhairle hissed next to Caio. The Solem chieftain called forward a volunteer from his ranks and bade him stand near him. Without warning, he rammed the spear at the warrior's chest. There was a flash of light and the warrior crumpled in convulsions. Caio winced. Two more warriors came to pick up the downed one, helping him to his feet.

The translator continued "Fear not, these will not cause permanent damage but a strong thrust to centre mass will incapacitate a warrior for some time. To the limbs? It will hurt but the pain will pass". None of the recruits looked too convinced. He turned to speak with their officer then. The aliens opposite them were removing some of their ceremonial armour but leaving on the functional bits. A hovercart was brought forward with weapons for the soldiers.

"You must retrieve the war banner of the Beannach" the translator said, indicating a bright red war flag held by their rivals. "To you, we entrust the war banner of the Machairi", two more warriors advanced, solemnly bearing a brown one and presenting it to one of the NCOs. "Capture the flag" Somhairle muttered, "Haven't played that in a while".

Lt. Kaza had the air of a chaplain at a cannibal feast. A career professional with a Coreward accent to her Basic, she had not wanted to be put leading a unit of barbarians against alien savages in some stone age version of wargames. She was living out her worst nightmare watching her soldiers ditch their rifles and grab at the stun spears with glee. Their sister platoons looked unsure what to do but there were a high proportion of Coillteans and other primitive worlders in this one.

They fell in again, looking oddly out of place in their First Order armour but with a selection of stun spears and other stun weapons on their person, a mix of modern and stone age. Kaza opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat, "3rd platoon, advance!"

The company moved in a reverse arrowhead, two platoons up front, the third in reserve. They crested a small hill and could see the Solem banner on the next hill over, just around three kilometres over. The valley in between was crisscrossed with ravines and forested. Caio bit his lip, this didn't look good at all.

Their commanders didn't share their misgivings. Another command and the company began to march down the slope. They were barely fifty metres inside the treeline when the first attack came, screaming greenskins rushing out of the undergrowth.

 

[Arrik Straden]

​

Equipment: F-11E Blaster Rifle, SE-44F Blaster Pistol, 'Rupture' Knuckle-Plate Vibroblade, Baradium-core Thermal Detonator, FO-02 Stormtrooper Armor
Tags: Krayzen Dratos

Once the landing zone was cleared of spice spiders, Lieutenant Straden lowered his F-11E and turned to address Aedan. He certainly looked the part of someone further up the chain than him, an Imperial Knight most likely, so Arrik was a bit surprised when the man referred to him as sir and asked for orders.

"You're one of those 'Imperial Knights', right? Can your Force senses tell us whether we'll be looking for corpses or survivors of the science team? If we know what to look for ahead of time, that'll make recovery easier for all of us. If you can't, let us know if anything slips past our scanners. Tech only does us so well in conditions like Taul. Oh, and if the acid rain starts, we may need protection. Not sure if you can make a bubble around us or something like that."

Truth be told, it had been a long time since Arrik had worked alongside a Force Sensitive. Pre-Sundering, one of those 'Knights of Ren' if he remembered correctly. He wondered how different these Knights were from the other Knights, but as long as they carried their weight and didn't cause trouble he was fine with them. If he didn't have to worry about acid burns, all the better. After giving Aedan his orders, Lieutenant Straden turned away to address his platoon.

"LZ secure. Landers will be RTB, I'll call them back once our objective is in hand. Acid might damage them if we make 'em sit here. Squads Aurek and Besh, you'll be with me on point, Squads Cresh and Dorn will be taking up the rear and keeping our six clear while we recover the team's research. Let's get a move on."

Once the platoon had their own orders, the AALs raised their ramps and began their ascent back to safety while the Lieutenant turned back to Aedan.

"You'll be with me. If we have to split up, you go with Besh and I'll take Aurek."

Straden shouldered his blaster rifle again, and as the four squads formed up on him and Aedan Von they began the hike to the science team's last location. Arrik hoped that once they got there, they'd be returning back home with more than just data.

 

[Jaida Tess]

Matt the Radar Tech | Sun-Shin Tae | Drexel Quinn | Masayu Kimura | Kim Dae-Hyun | Vernon Hectis
_______

​

Flight Officer Tess just shook her head in I guess dumbfounded awe as she took a seat at the table where fellow First Order starfighter pilots and navy officers were sitting.

Who would have ever thought the military brass would order them to outdrink the Solemians in a drinking contest? Which in turn, the winning side of said contest would determine the status of diplomatic relations between the Imperial faction and the peoples of Solem. Jaida had never heard of this kind of negotiation tactics while at the academy, but she wasn't about to question the mission parameters. It was above her paygrade.

"Jaybird" gave a nod to those beside her, then slipped a hair tie from her wrist and pulled back her golden tresses into a high ponytail. The blonde then cracked her knuckles and settled her hand around the glass in front of her filled with a mysterious liquid. Good thing she'd eaten a little something to help absorb the alcholol... Well let's hope it was just that and not some sort of poison that would make hair grow on her chest or horns to sprout.

With the contest beginning, the young Coruscanti flashed a small smile at the jolly green giant sitting across from her just before she raised the rim of the glass to her lips and tossed back the contents.

Oh my.....

 

[Krayzen Dratos]

"Noted, sir." he said. It felt weird being the one to call someone sir, and not referring to someone as it.

Usually, he had been at the top of the food chain. But it appeared from his time here that force users had to earn their place, not be given to them. In a sense, Aedan appreciated such a system, although he had to admit the would have gotten used to it.

"I'll protect you and your men. Just make sure they stay close to me." he stated

And with that, in his armor, Aedan's eyes began to glow. He might need the extra boost in reflexes, and being able to see through things might prove useful. Especially when hiking.

Arrik Straden

 

[Vernon Hectis]

​

To be called forth for a mission as drinking with the locals to earn their favor, Vernon was a bit more excited than his visage may have portrayed. He brought his landspeeder to a slow halt just before the hall. He could hear the merrymaking clearly from the outside. He expected to see other Naval personnel there already warming the locals up. Before he stepped in, he pulled a cigarra from beneath his jacket and lit it, taking a deep hit in and exhaling it.

"Just think of it as shore leave, Vernon. And hope you leave with your liver intact." He said to himself, motivating him to go into the unknown that was before him. He pushed open the door and quickly noticed the other personnel there, ready to send their bodies to war. He took a seat alongside them and watched as their cups were filled with who knows what. He heard the sound of a cup brought down on the table before him and looked down at it. It was his turn to receive his drink. The thick aroma of the drink filled his nose as it was poured in his mug. It's raunchy stench was overbearing but came with a slight hint of whiskey behind it. Or, what he assumed was whiskey.

"Ladies. Gents. Good luck."

Vernon grabbed hold of his mug and looked down at his drink, readying his stomach for the nuke it was about to take in. The gunshot rang through his ears, signalling the contest to begin. Without thinking, Vernon threw his head back and downed his drink, waiting for whatever might happen next.

Jaida Tess | Matt the Radar Tech | Sun-Shin Tae | Drexel Quinn ​

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

​

The sun was starting to dip below the horizon now, and there was still no sign of the enemy.

That wasn't necessarily a problem, since most everyone was enjoying themselves thoroughly. It was hard work, constantly partying, especially without the aid of the usual psychoactive substances that accompanied raves. Command had been clear on that. No one was to partake of hallucinogens, mood modifiers, alcohol, or any of the usual party drugs. There were plenty of uppers to go around, in the form of military grade stims, but you had to be desperate to go for one of those. The juice, as the common soldiery called it, would keep you awake and functioning for days on end without a crash, but it was damnably unpleasant. The headaches, dry mouth, and constant need to piss were bad enough, but after about the second dose, the formication set in. The sensation of insects crawling over one's skin was nightmare inducing on the best of days. It beat passing out at an inopportune moment and dying, but only just.

Fortunately, there were enough dancers to take shifts and let everyone rotate through and have a break. The gunwales were lined with reclining troops taking a breather and enjoying the sights and sounds of the party. For a potentially deadly combat mission, everyone was remarkably relaxed. There was plenty of skin on display, and so long as folks minded their manners, no one really seemed to care if they attracted admiring looks. Hell, that was part of the fun. If the mission turned out to be a bust, chances are, there would be plenty of groupings of various shapes and levels of enthusiasm passing the time on the way back to the pickup point.

Dresden himself was stretched out on the deck, careful not to let his lanky legs protrude out onto the dance floor. With the only illumination coming from the strobes and party spotlights, it was all too easy for a careless dancer to trip over something down in the dark of the airboat's deck. His Twi'lek dancing partner was coiled up next to him, her sinuous body seeming to flow around him. Theirs was a companionable cuddle, no real heat to it, just the languid enjoyment of the touch of another in the moments before a life or death situation. She'd made it clear that he wasn't exactly her type. Too tall, too beefy, and too male. That was fine with him. The agent wasn't in the market for a bedroom buddy. It had been a long time since he'd been intimate with anyone, and honestly, he wasn't sure he was ready to make himself that vulnerable again. Not so long as his sleep was plagued by nightmares as the radiation-ravaged faces of his former team leered accusingly in the dark.

Down here, they were able to ditch the respirators. The acrid swamp gasses were light enough that the boat was able to trap a bubble of clean air down by the deck. If you sat up too far without a mask, you'd get a whiff of the lung searing fumes, but it was pleasant enough, despite the rotten egg stench, in the prone.

"Lights on the horizon!" came the shout over the in ear commo that the whole team wore.

Dresden and Shelly, the Twi'lek, both donned their masks and sat up in a hurry, eager to see what was going on. As per the mission parameters, the music kept playing and the dancers kept going, but anyone who wasn't actively involved in the party scanned the darkness.

"There!" shouted someone else.

"I see 'em," Dresden said, pressing his throat mic against his larynx. "Two o'clock, either one really big vessel or a bunch of small ones."

Considering the shallow depth of the swamp, large boats were probably out. Anything with a draft of more than a meter or two ran the risk of running aground. Their own boat was aided by repulsorlifts that allowed it to glide over the surface of the acidic water, but there were limits even to that.

Red, green, and purple lights played across the rapidly approaching craft, and even from this distance and with their own music blaring, he could feel the bass in the air, reverberating out a counterbeat across the water.

"Think they're friendly?" someone else asked. A moment later, the unmistakable outline of a blaster bolt tore across the distance.

"Gonna take that as a no," Shelly replied dryly.

Everyone instinctively ducked at the sight of incoming, but the bolt seemed to dissipate long before it ever reached them. That was an interesting development. There had been speculation that the swamp gasses could attenuate beam weapons. It wasn't necessarily the density, but the way they refracted light. The same properties that made overhead surveillance difficult also worked against anyone trying to shoot from a distance.

"That tears it," the agent said into his throat mic. "Prepare for boarding. We're gonna have to do this the old fashion way."

There was a chorus of groans and cries across the net as soldiers and agents voiced their apprehension and distaste.

"Clear the net," Dresden snapped. "We knew this was a possibility. Short ranged weapons only, blades and slugs. We're gonna have to let them close, so they can't run away. If I see anyone with a long gun, I'll toss you over the side myself."

That wasn't an idle threat, and most of them knew it. Gone were the days of Imperial officers earning rank because their incompetent superiors got the life choked out of them by Force users, or ended up in front of the firing squad, but combat wasn't a democracy. If someone couldn't follow orders, shooting them was considered a kindness to their squadmates.

The dancers kept, well, dancing, as their teammates checked their weapons. There would be just enough time for them to get ready before the real action started, but it was important not to blow their cover too early. Dresden, meanwhile, threw on a T-shirt to keep his plate carrier from chafing, and went over his weapons. His preferred melee tool was a wickedly sharp kukri. The blade was long and heavy, ideal for chopping in close quarters. Not much room for finesse, but folks his size didn't get to be graceful. Shelly, meanwhile, pulled a long, matte black cylinder from a pouch on her vest, made sure it was pointed in a safe direction, and thumbed the activation switch. A crimson blade blossomed from the end of the emitter, and then died as she switched it off.

Dresden cocked an eyebrow.

"Sith?" he asked.

"Former," Shelly corrected. "I'm no fan of Jedi, but I got tired of the wannabes and edgelords. That gonna be a problem?"

"Kark no," Dresden snorted. "I'm sure as shit not gonna whine about a space wizard on my side in a melee. Besides, you cuddle nice. What's not to like?"

She smacked him lightly on the back of the head, grinning. Any banter before a fight was a welcome distraction.

"Keep it up and I'll tell my wife."

"Force spare me from domestic troubles," the agent growled as he stretched, trying to limber up. "I've met your wife, and I've no desire to be ripped limb from limb. You ready?"

"Let's do the damn thing," she said, as the airboats rocketed through the night, on a collision course with fate.

Resurgent Narrative

 

[Arrik Straden]

Krayzen Dratos
​

The four squads of stormtroopers moved into formation, a tight-knit wall of betaplast and blasters with Aedan and Straden at the center. The Lieutenant kept an eye on the map in the corner of his HUD: it was a rough map, of course, but it was what was available given Taul's climate, and so he recorded his squad's movements so that the cartographers could get more detailed maps in the future. They occasionally came across packs of spice spiders, but they did not last long under the combined fire of an entire platoon of stormtroopers. Large, dragonfly-like can-cells flew overhead from time to time, but as the creatures were not hostile the platoon paid them no mind.

"Be on the lookout for thidaxx. They're like sharks with tentacles, and just as bloodthirsty. Typically live in caves, but the science team might've disturbed them."

An electronic signature began to register on their scanners, and as no First Order units on the current operation were known to be in the area Lieutenant Straden took it as a sign they were on the right track.

"Be ready, Knight. If something got to the science team before us, I doubt they'll be very friendly."

The signature became more clear with every step they took towards it, eventually revealing that it was coming from a shield generator. That must be how they were able to work without dissolving into unidentifiable puddles.

 

[Caio]

The greenskins hit them like a tidal wave. There were screams and roars as the front rank hit them, stun spears and swords lashing out at the unprepared soldiers. The line broke and descended into a confusing melee. Caio ducked a swinging spear haft and lashed out, being rewarded with a roar of pain as he hit the alien in the midsection.

No one seemed to have a clue what to do. Fighting was fine but their commanders had been trained for modern warfare, not medieval combat. Caio sidestepped another errant swing, kicking out and catching the Solemite (Solemian? Solemish?) on the knee. His return swipe bashed the alien in the face, knocking him out cold.

Caio yelled in victory, feeling like he could take on half the planet. Somhairle caught him by the shoulder, dragging him back. Half blinded with fighting rage, Caio realised they were being utterly overrun. Half the company was streaming to the rear, trying to escape the vengeful greenskins.

He pushed uphill with a smaller group, somehow managing to batter their way through the mob of Solem locals. A trooper fell, howling from a stunblast to the stomach. Caio tripped over him but managed to whack his assailant in the shoulder. Kanner clattered another one in the legs, sending him tumbling head over heels.

Then they were through, rushing through the trees, branches snapping and cutting at their faces in their headlong flight. They didn't stop running for nearly a kilometre. Somhairle dragged them down into a fold in the ground, crouching to catch his breath. Caio looked around. Him, Somhairle, Kanner, Jalik, and three or four others he didn't recognise. His lungs burned but for the moment, no one seemed to be on them.

"What the feth was that?" he demanded. Kanner whinged, "Gak those bastards are tough". He looked like he'd have a few nice bruises tomorrow. All of the others looked a bit worse for wear, more just wild eyed for having gone toe to toe with them. Caio went to risk having a peek. The sounds of fighting had died but it seemed like those still standing in the company had retreated, still holding onto the banner.

"They don't have a clue we're out here" he said, a smile spreading as it dawned on him. Jalik didn't share his enthusiasm "What good is that? There's only eight of us". Caio shook his head, "We just won't play by the rules this time".

Somhairle got the gist and dropped to grab muck and start smearing it over his armour. Caio and the other Coillteans followed suit, spreading it on their faces for good measure. The otherworlders stared in bewilderment. "Bit too clean there Kanner" Caio said jovially, picking up a dollop of dirt and spreading it across his back. "Trust me, no matter how good those greenskins are in the woods, we're better"

For good measure, he ditched some pieces of his armour. The helmets were a nightmare and obscured his field of vision. He smiled out of a face of dirt and grabbed some foliage to complete the picture. "We're going to grab their banner from right under their noses".

The eight moved out a few minutes later, looking more like barbarians than soldiers in the First Order Army. Caio took point, keeping a tight grip on his spear as he led them along the slope.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

Tanileu was only glad to be off the dance floor and just in time to hear someone shout out about something over the horizon. She grabbed her gear and posted up against the railing. She ducked at the sight of an incoming bolt, and as soon as she could, returned the favor. "Damn and I like this song too," commented the Commando as she shouted a few orders. The boats that pulled along side them were in for a hefty surprise as their boarders were yanked down and subsequently sent to their deaths thereafter.​

​

"Gonna have to link up with the other group, how many boats?"​

​

"Right." Tanileu remarked as the number of boats were mentioned, "well c'mon let's get this over with quickly, and quietly."​

​

Here was the hope that the music was just loud enough, and the party goers were out of it just enough to not notice what was happening. In the meanwhile it just meant the Commando got to time her fights to the beat of the music. Which was oddly therapeutic, she and her team went to work and all of it with something of a sick smile beneath the gear. ​

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Dresden Verbrennung ​