A Poke in the Eyeball (ATTN: The Ancient Eye - OPEN)

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

[ T-85 X-Wing "Farkled Wookiee" ] [ obligatory post theme is obligatory ]​

​

The last time he had been inside the cockpit of a starfighter was more than 870 years ago.

It had been an Eta-2 Light Interceptor. The type of craft flown by the so-called "Jedi Aces" of the Clone Wars, though Sor-Jan would have hardly lumped himself in with that bunch. His only experience prior to the outbreak of the Clone Wars had been flying twintails during the Yinchorri Uprising. Most of his experience was with transports. He'd cut his teeth as a padawan learning to navigate a Republic cruiser in skirmishes with pirates over Manaan during the series of protracted hostilities that history recorded as the Stark Hyperspace War.

Fitting himself into the restraint harness as best he could, being that he was situated in a cockpit designed for someone at least twice his size and body mass, the tow-headed Anzat shuffled around as he started to get his bearings inside the cockpit. He knew what at least a third of the things in front of him were, thought he knew what another third of the things might do, and figured he'd figure out the rest as they went.

"BeeBee-Four, get us off this autopilot," the boy complained, fiddling with the controls as he wrestled for a way to take over from the glorified cruise control. Jorus' last message had said that it was time to go. And when you had to go, you had to go!

Then, the boy paused.

At first, he wasn't even certain why. The hair was standing up along the nape of his neck. Goosebumps were running up his arms.

He looked like he was ten, but he'd been a Jedi for five decades. During which, he'd seen three different conflicts even before encountering the Silver Jedi-Mandalorian War, or the Resistance against the First Order, or the Underground. He'd been to many corners of the galaxy touched by the Dark Side of the Force. Even faced the ghost of one of the great legends of the Sith Empire in a tomb unearthed on Tash-Taral...

...and what he was feeling right now reminded him a lot of what it'd felt like to be in the presence of Maligea's ghost.

Did he know what was happening? No.

Did he have a bad feeling about this? Yes.

Keying the comlink, the boy discovered a lot of static as he flipped through the different channels. Someone was jamming them. Which was fine. Subspace radio was a convenience, but not the only means by which Jedi could communicate.

Anzat were highly telepathic. As full grown adults, they could stalk their prey through mindfields that stretched across entire sectors of space. As a child, Sor-Jan wasn't nearly that powerful, but within reach of the Gossamer? That he was definitely capable of.

Jorus... do you feel that?

Something was happening. And if anyone was taking bets, Sor-Jan would have described it as something wicked this way comes.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]​

 

[Jorus Merrill]

Extreme Range from Main Battle
Taking Long-Range Fire from [member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

Massive interference blotted out comm reception. As Adurak did his best to fish scraps of coherence out of the static, Jorus sat up straight. "Did that say [member="Solan Charr"]? Which ship sent that last bit?"

"Best I can give you is a probability cone, Cap." Adurak highlighted a section of stars and a number of ships. "Private telesponders, unusual fleet comp."

"Holy feth, those are Charr's ships. Might even be he's alive. That I did not know." Jorus twisted the helm controls, and the Gossamer's armored bulk accelerated toward the apparent safety of Charr's forces. They weren't firing, they weren't being fired upon - a neutral party, maybe.

"Captain Merrill to all hands. Looks like an old friend jumped in to help. We're on our way somewhere, uh, approximately safe."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Allies: Trash Panda Ravers Raiders
Enemies: Whoever the hell shoots at me, I just got this thing!

Right... This did that, and that did this. He was spinning, flying, and honestly pushing the craft well beyond its usual performance levels. The blur of stars and enemy fighters would nauseate most, but he had been flying since the age of eight. Granted, it was only atmospheric craft, and nothing so capable as this E-Wing, but... It was still natural and felt like putting on his own skin. It would have been nice if his bio-circuitry could have interfaced, but these crafts weren't made such, and he had never mastered the trick of using his circuits without specified uplinks, though he was told it could be done. As if on cue, an enemy fighter pulled in behind him, tracing a tight weave of laser fire at him.

Whooping and grunting, Miko slammed the yoke and hit pedals hard, and the droid behind him screamed in alarm as the craft responded with a quarter drop angle and began to barrel roll, dropping a quarter angle more every few moments, until the barrel roll stopped and he had essentially completed a back-flip in the craft. Instrumentation whined, and his head swam with dizziness and confusion, and almost he wanted to vomit, but he squeezed the trigger, his own laser fire stitching back out at the bogey he was now behind. Like spearfishing in the Broken Reef, that's all it was. Treat it like that, the aiming became something less nagging and worrisome.

Once he shook this guy, he could figure out who or what he was linking up with. It was strange, but he could almost swear that he could point to where Coren was at... And he couldn't shake a looming feeling of dread.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Tristram Senan]

Location: In the fray with the SS Drunkfest
Allies: The Rabble (includes [member="Coren Starchaser"] )
Enemies: [member="Kainan Wolfe"]

It took a bit but eventually Tristram found the ship he was looking for. A heavily armored shuttle with multiple shields. No guns though. He smiled at it still. It was a beauty and exactly what he wanted. A loud whistle from him got his rabble's attention and he motioned for them all to board. As he was stepping on though a message from the captain went through announcing a microjump. Before he could brace himself though the ship jerked and caused him to fall into the ship. His head thumped against the metallic flooring and a curse escaped his lips. Getting back to his feet, he sneered as he moved his way to the cockpit. A pair of drunks was already there and as the most sober one here he shooed them out.

Tristram got himself sat down and began to prep the ship for launch. As he did he said over the coms to his crew, " Alright ye rowdy nerfs, everyone put sealed suits and space helmets on. We are about to take off and give those Sithie puppets some love. With our fists. Be sure to give it to 'em hard and fast when ya do." Laughter flowed to him from behind him and just got a grinning head shake in response. Good that they weren't feeling the tension just yet. He planned to change that soon. As his prep was finally done, he made sure everything was locked into place then lifted up and eased forward. Once they were clear he pumped up the fuel and speed them out into space.

There was long range shots already coming their way from the enemy ships. So Tristram had to begin dodging stray fire immediately. He began trying to get the shields up all the way but had quickly jerk the ship starboard as a round nearly nailed them dead on. He sneered and cursed then got back onto the coms. He said in a slightly agitated tone, " The most sober and competent one of you needs to report to the cockpit. Got a job for ya." With that he waited for what felt like several minutes but was maybe only one for his help. A rodian woman sat down next to him as he said, " Shields. Keep them all the way up." She blinked at him slowly then went straight to it without saying a thing. At least she wasn't a chatter box. He couldn't deal with that while having to keep dodging like this.

Moving forward towards the biggest ship of the fleeting taking shots at them, Tristram noticed another fighter approaching him and from the looks of it was a friendly. He got on the coms and said, " This is Nighthawk from the Gossamer. See that big ship? We are gonna ram it an-" Com jamming cut him off before he could finish his message. He said after a second, " Can you hear me friend? Hello?" No response because of the jamming. He stopped messing with the com and glanced over at his co-pilot. " I'm sure he will figure it out." He got another slow blink then a nod. Looks like their relationship was improving.

OOC:

Spoiler

Going to tag Wolfe and Coren for now. If anyone else wants to join in just tag me and maybe throw a heads up in the OOC.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

​

Attn: [member="Kyle Raymus"] | [member="Seras Rose"] | [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="Laira Darkhold"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Rekha Kaarde"] | [member="Miko Spar"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Ever Dawnracer"] | [member="Kiso"] | [member="Synthia Fellstarr"] | [member="Evoros"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

• 1st Fleet
  Engaging Resistance Forces

Ships Deployed:

• 1x Valiant-class Star Destroyer (Dark Star)
• 4x Admonitor-class Light Cruiser
• 4x Arquitens-class Frigate
• 6x Chiselhead-class Assault Corvette
• Total Starfighter Count:
  5x TIE/Reaper Sqadrons
  1x RZB-12 Bomber Squadron

When faced with the indimidating firepower of the First Fleet, the Gossamer retreated away, as expected. Good, Wolfe thought. The first part of the plan had worked just as he had anticipated and Jorus Merrill's ship had been forced out of the fight. That left the Resistance forces, but soon, they would no longer be a problem.

The Resistance forces were now in a peculiar situation, falling right into the Shrouded Republic's trap. With Admiral Raymus' fleet at their back, interdictor cutting off their escape, all Wolfe had to do now, was to close the pincer. And he did just that.

The First Fleet microjumped in a crescent formation, emerging out of Hyperspace just as the Resistance forces were turning to engage the Third Fleet. It seemed that the Resistance commander had failed to deduce what Wolfe and Raymus were planning and only now will they realize the true threat. They were now encircled between the two Shrouded fleets, one of which had an interdictor that would prevent them from jumping away to safety. A silent tension began to mount, stretching those few seconds between the First Fleet's jump and the beginning of hostilities

"All ships, open fire," Wolfe ordered. The First Fleet broke the silent tension with a withering barrage of fire. The four Admonitors all opened fire on the two Resistance frigates, the Dominion of Power and the Herald. The Arquitens frigates moved in to provide a flak screen for the larger ships, while the Chiselheads engaged the enemy corvettes.

At the center of the formation, the Dark Star turned to point at the Indomitable itself. "Execute maneuver Phalanx Breaker," Wolfe ordered. It was another one of the tactics and stratagems practiced by the Shrouded Republic Navy. It began with a withering barrage by the Dark Star's ion cannons, as the axial composite beam laser recharged and then fired, shooting out a lance of brilliant white fire at the Indomitable for a little over a second, again. This was phase one of the maneuver.

As soon as the composite beam finished its firing cycle, every single weapon onboard the Dark Star fired, in coordinated unison. The six hypervelocity guns, twenty heavy turbolasers and twenty regular turbolasers unleashed what could only be described as a wall of fire on the Scythe-class cruiser. The shots were timed so as to all impact the enemy vessel at the same time. The canon blasts were followed by a full salvo of ten torpedoes.

That was when comms went offline and the battlenet went silent. This has not been anticipated, though both the Dark Star and the Admonitors were equipped with top of the line communications systems that would defeat the jamming, but not before precious moments had passed. Even so, the fleet kept formation. Everyone had been briefed and knew what to do, the captains had their orders and all they had to do, was keep the Resistance pinned down. The only vessels who would lose their ability to communicate, were the starfighters. And the Shrouded Republic's fleets relied far less on fighters than the Resistance did.

A few moments passed, as the capital ships' powerful computers broke through the jamming field. The Shrouded Navy had lost valuable time, but was about to gain another advantage. The moon Winter, inexorably advancing along its eternal orbit, would soon rotate close enough for its ground-to-space defenses to be in range.

A garbled transmission came through, from warlord Charr. At this distance, however, Wolfe's ships were unable to make out what it said, due to the jammer's interference. It didn't matter, though, as they were about to wrap up this battle. "Ensign, open a comms channel to the Resistance fleet," Wolfe instructed, confident that the enemy capital ships would be able to defeat the jamming field as well.

"Attention, Resistance vessels. This is the Lord of Shrouds. As you can see, our forces have encircled yours and we have an active interdictor preventing you from jumping away. Power down your weapons and surrender. By the authority granted to me by those who elected me into office, I am prepared to grant you clemency, but only if you cease all hostilities immediately. If you refuse, you will be destroyed. Both the Jedi Autocracy and countless Sith have refused and as you can see, we are still here. Please do not test our resolve."

 

[Itash Mecetti]

Aboard the Gossamer: [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] | [member="Miko Spar"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Tristram Senan"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Laira Darkhold"]
Direct: [member="Kaida Taldir"]

The Other Guys: [member="Mythos"] | [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="The Matador"] | @Ra’a’mah | [member="Seras Rose"] | [member="Kiso"]
Soon: [member="Kainan Wolfe"]

Objective: Small talk, before the boarding.

He did notice the cold.

Not just in the way she talked or the way she looked, it was more in the way she thought. Itash wasn't able to get more than just a faint outline without prodding further... the last thing that he needed right now was an ice spear shoved up his arse though. So her mind was left alone, safe and secure in its icy exterior. For now anyway, who knew how bored the Tapani would be during the board- feth, right. Space. Void. Cold. Death, death by choking from not enough oxygen.

Feth almighty.

"Mentalism. People find themselves agreeable, when they take a moment to listen." Unless he was wearing his bracers, currently stowed in one of the assault ships with his men. Then... then people suddenly found themselves agreeing when they weren't interested in listening.

She was pretty though... for an elf. Pointy ears. Who comes up with that? Wasn't it distracting- feth, how does she put on helmets?

The ramp closed behind them and Itash started to gear up- armor including bracers and a helmet that wasn't made for pointy ears. The alarms started ringing through the hangar, readying the ship for take-off into the cold void of space. Bracers on and suddenly Mecetti felt better, more intense, strong, he could almost catch a glimpse of the elf's surface-thoughts. Almost. They were surrounded by his Thyrsians and a bunch of Merrill's rebels as well.

That was good.

Meant that it was less likely his men would be the one dying.

 

[Ever Dawnracer]

Ever shook her head at Mereel.

"We probably do, but if you plan to board them you're on your own. My people aren't marine's," she said.

"She's right," the Captain said as he watched the communications officer. "We are being communications jammed and yet another enemy fleet has arrived. Why they were coming here is beyond me. They can't be responding to a distress signal that quickly. Not that these people are in distress."

The man shook his head and sat back in his seat.

"I'll give you an approach, but then we are leaving. White Squadron and the other starfighter squadrons will pull back when we do. We can outrun their interdiction field."

Well, that seemed like a good plan. There was no way in the Netherlands they were going to be getting boots on the ground today. Ever was disappointed about that, but she didn't really see much alternative under the circumstances. She waved for Mereel to get himself in position in one of the airlocks while the Captain prepared theship for a high stakes fly by. She didn't care for that part, but getting out if there would be good considering just how outgunned they were at the moment.

They had the information on the situation they needed. It could be relayed to command for a recommendation to the Senate one they were out of harm's way.

[member="Mereel Vaun"] [member="Zek Koth"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Allies: [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="Kainan Wolfe"] |
​Enemies: [member="Itash Mecetti"] | [member="Tristram Senan"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]
​Neutral?: [member="Jorus Merrill"]

The Matador followed Solan, watching silently as there ship rose. He almost glowed with glee at the fruitless nature of his efforts, war was instinctual and no single warlord was going to start throwing their weight around and make a difference. No, this was Ancient Eye territory. These fools had chosen to come to their doorstep, and they would pay for it dearly.

​The Matador stood half-ways across the bridge, listening as Solan tried to undermine the entirety of the Ancient Eye. A low growl escaped his throat as he felt his arm twitch, itching to snap the Warlord's neck in between his pincer like fingers. To crush his wind pipe so that he may never speak such heresy again. Yet, even so he knew Solan's efforts were entirely pointless. What with the communication block, and the continued fighting following his transmission. It was clear that the Warlords words had had little effect, with the exception of the hulking Matador standing but a few inches away from him now.

​"Good. Understand Solan, that it is war. It is pain, strife. That makes us stronger, this is but a test. We cannot stand down, they may surrender. However.."

​Towering over Solan, the massive armour clad monster hunched slightly; pushing out his head towards Solan ever so slightly, making him acutely aware of how the giant felt. He saw that tremble in his stomach, the worry. Hidden behind his arrogant bravado, it appeared to him as if he was almost a coward. Before his words could continue, before a metal arm jolted for the Warlords throat; there was a signal. The Gossamer had taken refuge amongst their fleet. Coward.

​But at the very least, not a fool. The other however, the other assortment of small forces from various factions that had came from across the Galaxy; they were eager. They were eager to stamp out the Ancient Eye, they feared the truth. The truth of their ways, the power. Dominated by fear. It was pitiful.

​"You see Solan. These pitiful whelps won't stop, and neither shall we. Accept it, this is the way the Galaxy works. War. We crush our enemies or they will try to subjugate us. Their pitiful and ignorant views upon the Galaxy will not deter us. Open fire Warlord."

 

[tsarwars]

(RZ-110 Class Elite Starfighter)
3rd Fleet
"Activate gravity well generators!"
Kyle's order echoed around the bridge of the Overseer as the gravity wells began powering up with a hum. It was at this moment when the Overseer's powerful scanning computer detected numerous starfighters approaching from behind. The Overseer and it's escorts immediately opened up with their intensive anti starfighter weaponry, bringing the fire to the enemy. Kyle made his way to the hangar bay, sprinting down the bright white halls. He reached the hangar and jumped into his RZ-110 elite starfighter, ready to take on the enemy squadrons. The black starfighter, decorated with a three red stripes signifying 15 confirmed kills during it's combat history. Talon One. Kyle's personal fighter.

He flew out of the hangar, scanning multiple enemy contacts behind the 3rd fleet. The fighters were lead by 12 white ships. White squadron. Soon, a huge mothball ensued, the elite pilots of Reaper Squadron engaging the Republic fighters. Kyle zigzagged through the fight, carefully firing shots at any enemy fighter getting in his way. However, he was searching for white E-Wings. He wanted to fight the famed White Squadron. Test their steel, match it up against his own. E-Wings. Quite an old design, reliable nevertheless. This was when Kyle saw two fighters zoom past, firing rapidly at all Shrouded Ships ahead of them. Kyle rolled in behind them and began the chase. The RZ-110 could certainly keep up with some E-Wings, and White Squadron was in for a tough one.

Kyle attempted to communicate with the rest of the squadron, to coordinate attacks, but realised soon that the only signals getting through were targetting synchronizer readings coming from the Overseer's boosted comunications and scanning equipment. That's all he had. Targetting information from the Overseer. Kyle's fighter rolled and danced behind the pair of white fighters. He was staying on their tail but not firing yet. He was just waiting for the perfect moment. Then, he would fire, and one of those ships would come down in a glorious fireball of destruction. That fourth red stripe wasn't far. Only 4 left...

The gravity well generators finally reached full power. No one could escape now. It was kill or be killed.

[member="Kainan Wolfe"] |[member="Laira Darkhold"] |[member="Zek Koth"]

 

[Zek Koth]

Zek was aware that he'd lost a few fighters. It was going to happen, and they'd already had to replace a few pilots with less experienced ones. It happened from time to time. He'd already splashed six enemy fighters when he saw the one following a pair of his fighters and see t a mental communication to his wingman via the Force. The two of them split off if their current run, leaving the lucky sods they'd been chasing to flee.

In the meantime, they darted after the fighter that was chasing after a bobbing and weaving pair of White Squadron pilots. Changing over to a solid fire pattern so all three of his guns would fire at once, he unloaded on the fighter that was chasing after his fellows as he fell in behind him. His fighter was quite maneuverable, which would make it difficult, but Zek was relying on the Force to guide him and his goal was to draw the pilots attention away. If it didn't work he'd end up dead, so either way it was a sort of win.

After his firing run he broke off and his ships started flitting across space towards a distant spot where there were no ships. They were being interdicted now, which was why he'd noticed that the Remnant's diplomatic vessel had made a brief attack run before starting it's route away as well. They were withdrawing now. That made him grumpy, but it was probably for the best given the inprobably large amount of enemy capital ships that had shown up in the system.

No use wasting effort, he supposed.

[member="tsarwars"]

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Allies: Drunk Light Side Raving Raiders
Enemies: OP Force Storms, and massive fleet counts
Fleet Composition

Spoiler

one Rassilon Elite Fighter (7.1m)

There was a lot of work to be done here. And lucky for Coren, he could be anywhere and no where all at the same time. Sure, he wasn’t going to be using an Other Space Drive, or a Phase Drive like some folks, but he was going to fold space around him and move his fighter to where he needed to be. And right now it was catching up to MIko, and maybe linking up with the Alliance forces that had just shown up.

Though, it was [member="Taeli Raaf"], she’d be able to kick tail and take names better than most. He was connected to his ship and the battle around him, due to the Force. What he was doing now was popping out of his fold space near [member="Miko Spar"], he’d be covering the E-Wing while the fight continued on. Pushing the Rassilon forward, he was monitoring the communications, and that was when he heard it from [member="Tristram Senan"].

Moving towards a ship. Coren nodded and grinned. Just as the communication cut out. He tried to raise MIko to no success and fell into the Force. He touched Tristram, sending a quick ‘affirmative’ to the man before reaching to Miko.

Coming up on your side. We’re going to follow one of these boarding crafts, but pick targets. Was the thought that he was sending to Miko. He wasn’t sure if it was going to make sense to the man, but hell if he wasn’t going to try.

Show these Sith who are boss, was what he sent to Taeli, before kicking the ship into high gear to link up with Miko.

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

Location: The Bridge of the Paladin
Allies: Ancient Eye Forces
Enemies: [member="Jorus Merrill"]


Of the many aspects of warfare, perhaps one of the most important was a steady line of communication. Of course, others might argue that the most important thing was the size of one's warship, or perhaps the number of batteries that could be jammed onto a vessel before its power source was unable to facilitate their operation. Others thought more defensively, in terms of shields, and hull strength, or hangar capacity, or any of several other physical features that could be applied to any number of ships or armies. In the end, however, Abelain was fairly certain that the issue of communication circumvented nearly all other potential problems.

It was not a thought without logic nor conscious consideration, and it was certainly not some unknown addendum tacked onto the end of a strategy guide for warfare. Realistically, the lack of communication led to a series of difficulties. For example, one might possess an incredibly large vessel, a Star Destroyer, perhaps, but if they were unable to communicate with their escort corvettes, then even the mightiest ship could be brought down by a few squadrons of bombers. Or, perhaps there was a critical position being taken upon a battlefield, and the acquisition of that particular placement might have spelled the difference between a raucous victory, and a frustration-filled defeat. If one could not direct one's own soldiers to assail that aforementioned area, then how could they possibly hope to achieve their goal?

That particular facet of battle was true regardless of circumstances or setting, though perhaps it was the most obviously perceived while in the company of the stars. There, a constant void of absence sucked away any hint of vibration or sound, ceasing any attempt at communication through the natural methods, and the astronomical distances necessary to even conceive of space travel made any more physical options entirely unfeasible.

Abelain could not blame Captain Fait for having trouble keeping his composure given the circumstances, and he observed the man's cheeks as they began to flush with red from his constant explosive orders, his demands from the crew that they do this or that, that they continue operating as usual despite the issue at hand.
"Captain." He began briefly, addressing the man in order to retain his attention.
The fellow in question spun upon his heel, already snapping a frustrated "What!" before he had even perceived who had questioned him. The sudden realization that he had barked so angrily at his commanding officer, and a Sith to boot made that crimson color that had dominated his cheeks vanish in an instant, as though suddenly compelled to flee from danger.
"The situation?"
"Yes sir, of course. It appears as though your message was received, but someone is now jamming any communication between us and the other ships."
"Ah. We are unable to discern friend and foe, then?" He presumed, casting his eyes out of the viewport to watch the battle that continued to rage onward, despite the attempts at some throughout the place attempting to mediate a peaceable accord. In truth, the Arue'tii probably would have been a massive proponent of a more peaceable solution, but the fact of the matter was that the Paladin was a warship, not a vessel equipped for communicative strength or electronic warfare countermeasures beyond a standard issue on the weaponry.

"Worse than that, sir. We've lost connection with the Imperator and the Osprey as well, along with our fighter squadrons."
"Can you re-establish contact?"
Fait sighed with a defeatist shrug, as though physically displaying his uncertainty.
"I don't believe this is quite the issue you think, Captain. The orders we gave the two ships are still valid, and the fighters will know to fire on incoming foes should they appear. For now, our primary and sole target will be the Gossamer. Mark any vessels that leave it as enemy. The other ships that are arriving are not our concern for now."

Calm in the face of danger was an aspect he had gained after having lived a relatively long life. Of course, he needn't understand all of the technicalities behind space battle, because in effect, it was quite similar to every other sort of combat. He listened to the gentle whirr of the deflector shields as they activated, shielding the vessel throughout, despite the fact that they hadn't any foes behind them or to their flanks that they were aware of; he supposed cloaking technology could be implemented.

The thud-thud of long-range turbolaser batteries continued as they opened up on the Gossamer, inching forward whenever necessary to keep them in range, though, the very nature of the guns made that process quite rare.

Fleet Composition

Spoiler

1x Vanguard-class Heavy Assault Cruiser (The Paladin)
2x Rancor-class Assault Frigates (The Osprey and the Imperator)
24x OS TIE Fighters
16x Torrent Heavy Starfighters
4x Incitatus Shuttles (Hangar of Paladin)

Actions

Spoiler

Keep shooting at the Gossamer with Long-range Turbolasers
Move into distance of Gossamer when necessary to continue firing
Realize that communication is important. Have a brief epiphany on the subject

 

[Kalyn Tal'verda]

Lyra continued digging through the Gossamers files, attempting to find anything of interest. The Magi was a rather special ship as it was designed for EWAR, hacking, and other types of electronic warfare. A sort of electronic data tether attached the Magi to the enemy ship, allowing it to, single target, break through ECM jammers in order to engage in hacking operations. The ship still couldn't talk with anyone but she could mess with other peoples computer systems. Should that fail there was always the option of the physical tether, which acted like a harpoon. She was digging through the files but failed to find anything of interest. Only a few questionably legal trade runs and other boring buisness stuff.

She could not find anything worthwhile, not even any adult pictures. Nothing. Who would have thought that the legendary Jorus Merrill was so boring. She had heard legends of him from random spacers at bars she frequented, he was a sort of legend in spacer crcles, those stories seemed more like tall tales than ever now. If she couldn't find anything on that ship she might have to go have a conversation with him about storing incriminating information on your ships computer system. Who doesn't keep incriminating information on their ships computer?

The sensor console started making alarm bell noises and the sensor officers eyes started gaping wide open. He started stuttering. "S... Sir... A huge interdiction field just went up." The crew started chatting nervously, there was serious tension in the room, they had no way out now. Lyra, however, started giggling like a small school girl, she spun around in her chair a few times.

"The plot thickens, this is just going to get more and more fun!" The crew yet again looked at her as if she was frelling mental, those impressions are probably accurate.

For the moment they were now stuck in this mess, everyone; and it just kept getting worse better.

 

[Mythos]

Enemies: Still no forces on the ground
Objective: Ritual 2
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVBAeS5t5nc
Thunder cracks the sky, the clouds roll in with malicious intent.

"I need more souls." His voice rang out as durasteel on durasteel and it echoed through the force being heard by his priests around him. There were more jedi captured from the battle before and Mythos could not personally execute and force walk each of them one at a time, not while conducting his ritual at the same time. No, that is what the priests of Anhkypt were for, they facilitated the slaughter, ensured the blood and carvings were made with surgical precision and continue with the chanting once the blood hit the sand around him.

What was once a small tornado of sand around Mythos kicked up now into a small, localized storm that blocked his figure from the view of the Anubian high priest hood around him but they did not need to see him to do their job. The cages would be brought in one by one and the unfortunate souls one by one would be ritualistically decapitated in a circle around Mythos so that their blood would drench the sand around him and their essence would be added into the storm. Mythos however never changed his posture, never stopped doing the same moments and coordination he was doing the only difference being he was now a good twenty feet in the air being lifted by powerful winds.

One does not see rain in the desert very often but every once in a while comes a bringer of rain.

Thunder struck the black clouds above Mythos as soon as the first heads began to roll in his direction, that strike brought with it rain, rain was a sign of victory in Anubian culture, rain was the provider of life, rain was the sign of the gods, they were here and behind the troops, they would grant them victory. Morale began to raise considerably. The heavy rain also brought in some new help, the aid of special operation force Mythanus Deus, a hard to deploy and long to prepare armored legion with specialized desert battle tanks specifically designed to defend the home world from invasion and entrench themselves in dunes and sand hills across the land like bugs. They still were not prepared to take position even though the infantrymen already had dug their foxholes and prepared their fighting positions. The main defense was in essence to protect against orbital and fighter attack bombardment.

If [member="Solan Charr"] thought the Ancient Eye was in any way afraid of facing two galactic powers or more on their own he clearly did not know his King well enough. Mythos was prepared to fight to the death again and again, hatred fueling his power like a well that never dried, hatred that boiled from the death of his only son and his people. He would sacrifice countless lives just to make his enemies bleed, just to make them suffer. Today they would know that resolve, the last full measure of devotion clear as crystalline water.

"Yes! More! More Power! I Need More Souls!"

His voice began to sound inuman, it began to resonate less to ears and more to the force in a pure drunken state of darkside power. The best way to describe the sound of his voice was like if the storm above itself was speaking and not it's conjurer. His voice was thunder. His voice becoming broken and hoarse from all the chanting, his throat bleeding as every word from his lips poured out more and more blood with every syllable that escaped his lips, the veins in his head bulging like they were about to burst and his eyes bloodshot with capillary explosions seemingly contradictory with his psychotic wide grin. The muscles of his body began to cramp and break as if he was on another training session that broke his muscles so far that they would take weeks to recover, it would seem that his body was not capable of withstanding the power he was channeling...

It wasn't... But it did not need to...

Lightning came down and struck around him, controlled natural lightning not sith lightning by the power of the darkside. It licked up the blood around him like a hungry beast and tore his cloak, clothes and boots to a charred remain but still he remained on his ritual, focused and intent on harm. Now it would be clear, as the tornado vanished the runes carved upon his body like fresh injuries carved the night before with a mundane knife would be clear.

This was the way he was able to do what he was doing, this was the key to his incredible power, the runes. Controlling such force as a single being would destroy a body or at least cripple it but with the runes carved upon his body he was able to house and control the corrupting, foul and crippling essence that was the sheer might of the dark side of the force. His hair naturally caught a slight fire but the pain that it caused in his head went unnoticed by the Lord of the Sith.

"Angramar!" He screamed, speaking at nature itself, at the life force of the planet he was bending to his will. "Bow to your Master!"​

 

[Whisper]

Nibelungen Space
On A Freighter
Arguing With Mother

Kitten Roice, better known as 'Whisper', was reclined in the co-pilot's chair, feet up on the dashboard, communicating with her mother. The older woman was baking cookies, and wanted to know if she should come to bring them to Kitten's sleep-over.

Oh, sweetie-pie, I'm sure your little friends would love to have a taste of Mama Roice's family recipe for chocolate chip cookies! I can have them over in a giff!

No, mom, you don't have to bring cookies. We have plenty of stuff here to eat.

Are you sure, kitty? These are fresh from the oven, still gooey and hot!

Mom! Stop embarassing me! We don't need cookies! I'm with my friends, goodbye!

With a disgusted sigh, she threw her communicator forward on the controls of the ship, rolling her eyes as she ran a hand through her uncombed and messy black hair. She hadn't even had time for a shower before being dragged into this chit. Disgusting. Her hair was going to be greasy and gross, now.

She spotted [member="Gauntlet"] glaring at her, and dramatically sighed.

"Okay, fine! I'll hack your fething ships or whatever. I don't even care."

As she leaned forward, she snapped her fingers at [member="Evoros"], without looking back.

"You, butler-girl. Get me a can of energy drink, strongest stuff you can find. And make it quick, I gotta work my magic."

The freighter had a terminal, and that was going to have to be good enough. Not her good and sweet set-up, mind you, but it was something, at least. Her fingers flew across the keys as she worked, and Kitten Roice became Whisper.

The objective was simple: slice into the Shrouded whatever's systems, and erase their tiny ship from their radars. Could she do it? Without a doubt. Without interference, anyway. If these guys had slicers of their own, well, this could get complicated. She wasn't set up for a slice-off, here, and there was only so much pure skill could get you on chitty hardware.

So she sent her invisible fingers out to slide into the Republic's systems.

[member="Kainan Wolfe"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Whether it was the Communication Jamming or something other unknown factor, General [member="Kyle Raymus"] had not activated the Grav-Wells following his microjump. Perhaps they had been spooling up, or some other reason, but nonetheless the Interdiction hadn't occurred. Perhaps it was for the best, as had that been the case, the Indomitable likely would have rammed the Light Destroyer and overloaded its reactor in order to provide that corridor of escape.

Regardless, [member="Kainan Wolfe"] was being jammed from multiple sources anyway, so his pleas went unheard to ships no longer in local space, their mission complete for the time being.

~

"Oh Feth." Laira muttered, spinning her Stealth X about, her wing mates fluttering behind her. Suddenly the system had become filled with various fleets all at Def Con Five. Lucky for her, communications were being jammed heavily. It was lucky, because Stealth X's shouldn't be using Communications anyway, and without them the enemy fleets would be less coordinated, and less able to use each other to their own advantage. With any luck, the lack of cross-talk would keep the enemy pilots on the back foot, giving her just a slight edge. "Come on Bee Seven, hold onto your butt."

Her Fighter spun on its axis, blasting lasers at enemy fighters as she slashed through them as fast as her fighter could manage. Everything moved slowly around the redhead, each laser blast firing in what felt like slow motion while her senses expanded and fluttered. One of the things that made her a naturally talented pilot was her Force senses and her penchant for using it to hasten her reactions and increase her perception of time. It allowed the redheaded pilot to flow with combat and chain her movements together in a fluid form. Difficult it was, but not impossible.

Her feet cranked the pedals below her, twisting the X-Wing to suddenly flip and turn backwards in a sudden twist, still moving away from her pursuit. Lasers flashed again and again, her engines kicking back in.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Taeli Raaf"]

 

[Kaida Taldir]

Aboard the Gossamer
[member="Itash Mecetti"]

Enemies: Sithies. Soon: [member="Kainan Wolfe"]


Elf ears were quite noticeable. What with being long and pointed and all that. Aside from looking odd, they served a practical purpose. Sensitive elf hearing and so on. Of course, that also had its drawbacks. Somehow, Kaida managed to fit them into her phrik armour's helmet. Did Space Elves need special helmets to make sure their ears managed to get inside without being hurt?


The human talked about his aptitude for playing with minds. "Useful," Kaida commented. Provided he messed with the enemies' minds and stayed out of hers, they'd get along swimmingly. Icy walls surrounded it. The duo boarded their craft and took off.


They were not alone, for a few Thyrsian mercs and plucky rebels had joined them as well. Presumably many of the NPCs would die during the valiant boarding operation. The deaths of NPCs was an unfortunate but necessary byproduct of any combat action because their character shields were far less durable - or sometimes nonexistent. Especially if they wore red shirts or white stormie armour.


Kaida checked her gear, making sure everything was in place. Rifle, sidearm, explosives, sabre and shield. Melee shields might on first blush appear horribly archaic, but Eldorai used them frequently. They were awfully useful in melee. Besides, this one was a Scutum made out of phrik. Kaida would have liked the old Romans. Their vessel shot through the cold abyss that was space.

 

[Tristram Senan]

Location: RIght where he wants to be, Not where anyone else wants to be
Allies: Team Drunk Rebel Rave Raiders ; [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Miko Spar"]
Enemies: Team Sober Killjoy Core ; [member="Kainan Wolfe"]

Tristram had managed to break through the fire being direction towards the Gossamer. As proud as he might be about that level of competence in flying, it just made him frown. The ship he was after, the flagship of the Shroud 1st fleet, had made a microjump just before the gravity well went up further away. The shots coming from them was no longer coming his way so it made his job a whole lot easier. The problem was he now had to go a little further than he wanted to get to it. Didn't matter though because he was now behind the entire fleet with their full attention being directed the other way. If that wasn't a perfect opening to do what he wanted he didn't know what was.

Clear now to focus on other things, Tristram said to his co-pilot, " Hit my arm if something happens or we get close. Gonna be half gone for a bit." He got the slightly faster blink followed by a nod from the rodian woman in response. He really needed to ask her what her name was after all of this. Focusing once again on drawing the force into him to build up, he became less aware of his surroundings. All the while his ship hurried on towards the flagship. None of his drunken crew had any idea what his plan was. None of them even had an idea of what his plan was, not even his co-pilot. For some reason though none of them seemed to care about this and just went along without asking any questions. He figured it had to be the alcohol. Regardless they were closing in on their enemy fast.

It had not taken them long to close in on the flagship of the 1st fleet. Tristram was still focusing on drawing the force inside of him and building up a reserve of power. All coms were still being jammed so it was hard to say if they would mobilize against their little shuttle or not. It could be they would slip through unnoticed or maybe the enemy still had a ship or two in the hanger to send after them. No one could say and no one cared. All that mattered was they were close now to their target so Tristram's co-pilot hit his shoulder hard enough he would notice. He came back fully to reality but continued to draw the force in if in lesser amounts. He got on the coms and said to the drunks in the back, " Ready yer sorry soul friends. We are getting close." After turning the coms off he looked over at his co-pilot. With an impish grin he said to her, " Time to knock, loudly."

 

[Mereel Vaun]

Location: RNV Herald
Allies: [member="Ever Dawnracer"] | [member="Zek Koth"] | @otherfolkseriouslyoutgunned
Enemies: Dar'jetii
Objective: Loading up

Mereel sighed, "I'm not a marine either sweetheart, I'm just a man with a vacuum seal and fifteen minutes of air."

He looked out of the bridge viewport and found his target: a knife shaped corvette slightly longer than the Iviin'yc, acting as a support ship for a 900 meter cruiser. "If that cruiser is the ship running interdiction, fly me close to one of its support corvettes - the knife looking ones."

He pointed at one of the Chisel Head corvettes and sprinted off the bridge to find the ship's armory. He needed to find something that could cut or blast through the viewport of a corvette, without damaging anything too important.

It's times like these I wish I had finished learning how to build a lightsaber.

He entered the armory and started popping open lockers. Most of them contained only blaster staves, fragmentation grenades, and blaster pistols. None of these things were very useful to helping him achieve his goal.

Then he stumbled upon a footlocker that had nearly a foot of thermal det tape in it. Bingo.

He took the whole foot - if they were leaving they certainly wouldn't be needing it. He didn't know how much he would actually need to break through a capital ship's viewport, but he had seen thermal det tape blast through reinforced blast doors during ground missions before.

He ran to an engineering locker and took a plasma torch from it just in case. The Remnant engineer would have to bill him for it, Mereel didn't have plans to die in the cold void of space.

After he was done rummaging through the various lockers in the armory, he attached the torch to his belt and returned back to the bridge. "Alright, I'm ready. Tell me which airlock to run to and I'll be on my way."

 

[Aedan Miles]

Allies: [member="Solan Charr"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]
Enemies: [member="Abelain Narv'uk"]
Objective: Help an old friend

Aedan Miles sat there watching as he waited for a response suddenly feeling a very familiar force presence his eyes drawn to a freighter that was seeming to juke around as it fled towards a fleet that held a very familiar looking Impellor carrier. Narrowing his eyes Aedan stood and looked at the Impellor reaching out with the force before his eyes widened and they were dragged back to the ship shooting at the Gossmar. Growling savagely he pointed at it and muttered darkly to his men. "Disable that ship so I can board it and throw the sorry karker out of their Air Locks." At his command his ships moved the Death's Embrace moving forward slowly as it emptied its fighter craft into space gunships and bombers blazing away from it and towards his indicated target. Two of the dire-class broke away and surged forwards after the bombers and gunships while fighters and interceptors flooded forward and towards the enemies fighter craft. From the Darkness two Strike-class corvettes surged out of their places within it surging forward once clear to join the Dire-class ships in their attack runs. While this was happening Aedan closed his eyes opening his body and mind to the force as he entered battle meditation his force presence washing over the crews of his ships boasting their moral as well as their capabilities.

Blood Fleet:
1x Super Carrier: The Commenori Receiver Death's Embrace
1x Kerrigan-class Star Defenders Darkness
1x Unicorn-class Heavy Cruisers Umbra
1x Captivas-class Star Destroyers Lockdown
4x Dire-class patrol ships Raven, Raptor, Eagle, and Hawk

Actions:
Launches all fighters in force before moving into position to attack The Paladin.
Darkness and Umbra move forward as well launching the two Strike-class Corvettes in Darkness's hangars.
Fighters move to engage the enemy fighters as well as screen bombers and gunships.