Public All Fun and Games till Someone Loses an Eye | Agents of Chaos & Friends

[Paragon of Patience]

~The Unknown Region~
Planet Oftulor

With the engagement of Confederate Forces against Agent forces, Dimitri Lindzinsky was inspired to put together a sort of wargame to inspire teamwork between both ground forces and naval units. Meant to be a practice run for future cooperation between the two groups to work out communication issues, timely deployment of ordinance, and exactly how close danger close really is. The playground for these groups is a dead planet in the unknown region. Transportation to this planet can either be obtained by hitching a ride with the Admirals, or by your own means of explosive propulsion.

The respective fleets will muster, and upon ground groups (meaning two "enemy" groups if possible, I will provide NPC enemies otherwise) being established and targets being designated (neat rock formations of note that won't plunge you to the planets core with their destruction...oh hey the planets crust is a bit fragile by the way, sooooo, be careful yeah?), the signal will be given to commence the war-game.

The surface of the planet, or at least what remains of it at least, is rocky and dry. Atmospheric conditions are questionable, pockets of actual space conditions are rampant and anyone dropping to the surface are required to bring sealed suits to avoid the threat of instant death. Open parts of the crust can be used by starfighters to use for surprise attacks, but be warned. Gravity is strange in these spots, and a tractor beam might not be able to snag you in time.

This exercise serves a dual purpose of allowing the two sides of the naval assests, Ravager and Liberator fleets, to stand toe to toe against each other. Testing each other's strategies, though to the annoyance of Admiral Lo-Notar Weapons have been retrofitted with stun capabilities for everything, and naval units will be using ion and paint rounds respectively with support vessels on standby. After all, this is meant for practice, and no hard feelings. Right?

OOC - Alright everyone, the planet surface and planet itself is a mess. It is meant to be a stressful situation for everyone in order to test your abilities to communicate and work together not only with your team, but also with vessels from your respective fleet providing support. This will be a relaxed posting thread for the most part unless certain person's wish to have a quick back and forth duel. This is open to all those who wish to join with ties to the Agents of Chaos. This is not a required thread by any means, as it is simply meant to allow everyone to brush up on cooperative posting. Most importantly, have fun with it.

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[Dasmi Lindervale]

Dimitri and Lo-Notar brought their respective fleets to the planet, each with their own selection of vessels outfitted with non-lethal weapons. The ships of each group would still have a called amount of damage each could take, moderated by support vessels providing a neutral force as referees. The pair of them took their fleets towards separate sectors upon arrival to the planet, scans from both fleets alerting them to strange gravity pockets due to the exposed core of the planet. It was neither high or low gravity, a concerning spot to be in for larger vessels, but smaller ones could possibly use them to their advantage.

Support vessels dropped ground forces in places reasonable distances apart, taking off after ensuring that all the groups in question were safely to ground. The terrain made a few of the landings sketchy, the pilots smirking at the challenge before leaving the groups with laser designators to mark their targets of opportunity to defend, or attack respectively.

Dimitri was tied into the collective communications for the ground forces, waiting for signals from both groups to allow a support vessel referee to signal the beginning of the war game before communications between the opposing groups were split apart.

Spoiler: Dimitri’s Fleet

SHC Unicorn- Dimitri Lindzinsky (12 active squadrons)
Pocket Carriers - 6 (4 active squadrons each)
Monarch Class Destroyers - 2 (5 active squadrons each)
Wraith Vessels - 20
S.R.R.S.S. Mark VII - 2
STARFIGHTER SQUADRONS -
Numerous - Oni ClassProwler (12 per squad)
Numerous - iNf-46 Needle Interceptor (16 per squadron)
Numerous - Ghost Starfighter/Heavy Bomber (12 per squadron)
Numerous - CST Toscan 8-R Fighter (12 per squad)

Spoiler: Lo-Notar's Fleet

Pocket Carriers - 2 (4 active squadrons each)
Monarch Class Destroyers - 4 (6 active squadrons each)
Sentinel Class Heavy Explorer - 6 (2 active squadron each)
Wraith Vessels - 20
Kessel Class Armed Couriers - 60
S.R.R.S.S. Mark VII - 2
STARFIGHTER SQUADRONS -
Numerous - Oni ClassProwler (12 per squad)
Numerous - iNf-46 Needle Interceptor (16 per squadron)

 

[Bella]

Fighter: Hunter-Class Superiority Fighter - Phantom Seven
Onboard Equipment: Phase IX Anti-G Suit, Survival Kit, X-8 Night Sniper
Allies: Liberator Fleet, Phantom Squadron (Dimitri Lindzinsky)

Although she had already flown a few hours in the Hunter-class before now, Bella knew that she still needed many more hours to become familiar with the fighter and its systems, like she was with the Needle. However, she had already gleaned a few details about the fighter. For one, Hunter-class was surprisingly outperformed in terms of turning radius and maneuverability when compared to the Needle. It was still a highly maneuverable craft, but having learned that TIE line fighters were typically unmatched in that domain, it came as a surprise to her to find that the Needle surpassed it in that regard. Fortunately, the Hunter-class made up for that shortcoming with what she had been told were markedly stronger defensive systems and most significantly, a hyperdrive.

Hyperdrives were light enough to be fitted on even the most agile fighters and interceptors. That had been the case for almost eight-hundred years. However, it still eluded her as to why so many shipwrights refrained from putting them in their designs. The ability to execute microjumps was invaluable, and a skilled pilot could make themselves a phantasmic dervish of death with disciplined and astute use of the technique. Out of a simple desire to achieve mastery over her craft, Bella had been wanting to learn how to microjump in a practical scenario for quite some time. She had practiced it in simulators, but had not yet had the chance to use it in live training.

Today, she hoped to change that.

As she entered the hangar bay, Bella found the same purple-skinned Togruta man who had spoken to her with such interest a few days earlier. She couldn’t blame him, since she was probably the only other Togruta on the ship and he just happened to be one of the designated technicians for her fighter. Unfortunately, she didn’t necessarily like talking to anyone before a sortie, even if it was just a training exercise.

However, the purple-skinned technician seemed to take the hint, but he nevertheless offered her a gentle smile when he took her modified helmet before she began climbing into the eyeball-like cockpit of the Hunter-class. Once she was strapped into the shock couch, the technician reached down to pass her the helmet, before giving her a charming nod.

“Good hunting, sa’mahr! Stay safe and don’t let the drones shoot you down!” He said with a chuckle.

“Thank you, sa’daar.” Bella answered quietly, which the technician responded to with a coy wink before closing the upper hatch.

Not a minute later, Bella was launched into the void.

 

[Raymond Mosses]

Raymond Mosses sat in the command chair looking out at empty space. The ache in his head was formidable and he knew he was dehydrated yet here he was. This new group he had managed to find himself in cahoots with were an eclectic mix to be sure. The fleet commander seemed ok, but in Rays experience one can not know these things about a person until they did or said something that skewed that perspective of them. Everyone had something, everyone in this godforsaken galaxy had some secret or kink that made them, well not to seem ok once you knew it. For now, this guy was ok and until he was not Ray would just continue his business within the fleet and the AoC.

The small taskforce he was commanding had been provided to him by a shadowy figure he only knew as Paladin. He had been told by The Fish to trust the man and do what he said. As apprehensive, as he was, the Mon Cal had never led him astray and no matter what kind of shat storm he found himself in because of it he had always come out on top.

"Captain, a audio only signal for you sir." said one of the officers manning the communications console. "Put it through lieutenant" said Ray then a moment later the voice of the man he knew only as Paladin boomed over the com.

"Ray, I trust all is going as planned. Have you embedded yourself into the AoC command structure?" asked the voice. Ray paused for a moment trying to imagine who the man was and why the fish wanted him to work for the man. Ray had been off on his own now for over a year transporting goods around sith space. The Directorate had packed up and left Hast after the Sith took Mon Cala and Ray had stayed behind and taken advantage of the situation. When the Mon Cal called him up and gave him orders he was confused for a minute thinking he was no longer in their employ. He had been wrong.

"Yes, I have. I have not seen the blue devil I was sent here to find. He seems to have gone into hiding somewhere nearby but the higher ups here have said little about him." said Ray in reply. A pause on the coms seemed to take forever then the mystery man spoke.

"What are you talking about? WHat blue devil?" asked the man on the com. Ray cocked his head to the side then responded. "my orders were to join this task force under your patronage, join the AoC, observe and find any information on the blue devil I could find. That is what the fish said." answered Ray. Another pause from the man n the com laster longer still than the first. "You call him The Fish?" and slight snicker came from the man then he continued. "That must really irritate him. And by Blue Devil, I assume you mean the Chiss. It seems" than man paused again for a moment then continued. "The Fish has his own agenda for you on top of why you are really here. That is fine, it will not interfere with my plans. Do as Leviathan said. I too am curious about what Lash is up to with the AoC. He never does anything unless it furthers his plans. But know you have another task. One which I will be overseeing once I arrive in theater. For now, play nice with the AoC. Get to know them. I know you and the bartender seem to be together alot. watch out for him, He is dangerous. for now carry on I will be in touch soon." said the man then the signal cut off and disappeared.

Ray was even more confused than before. He did not mind being a pawn in Leviathans' games. The FIsh seemed to have plans on top of plans and schemes on top of schemes. The Directorate had taken a hard hit when Mon Cala fell. Losing their headquarters on Hast had hit them even harder. They were now spread out in the Jedis space and on Rothana and currently rebuilding. Ray understood why they wanted eyes on Lash. Ray knew what he had done. He had taken a large force of Directorate ships and the fish wanted to make sure he was not wrecking the outer rim with them.

Ray pushed all that aside and shook off the lingering headache to get back to the chore at hand. A war game. "Commander, Jump us into the system. It is time to join our new friends and fake shoot them to fake death."

 

[Salem Norongachi]

Another ship, another commander, another squadron, thought Norongachi as he looked around the hangar. It was his own fault really, being half-in and half-out, command probably thought of him as that useless part-timer that barely showed up for a shift and when he did he was half drunk and had to be sent home when he vomited in the urinals.

The truth was in his head he wanted the quiet life, the simple pleasures of mopping up last nights blood stains from the floor of the Kark Off, but in his bones he still wanted combat, the visceral kill or be killed, the madness of war. It was genetic, he reasoned, there wasn’t any escaping it. It would probably be there when he was old and grey, unable to wipe his own arse. If he ever got to that point, of course.

So here he was, sitting in the cockpit of the Hunter-class Superiority Fighter, a ship so new the paint job was still drying while he ran over pre-flight. The squadron he was flying with today were around the hangar, doing what pilots do best before combat -even fake combat- which was put the ordeal ahead as far from their minds by any means possible.

Avalon Squadron they called themselves and by chance they had a slot that needed filled. Salem looked out across the bay at the card players, the ball throwers and the idle chatters, they looked like any other group of pilots the universe over; Faceless and predictable, then they’d be gone, replaced by another when next he strapped in.

The time was coming, he knew, when he’d have to decide one way or another but it wasn’t today. The call to sortie came and his squadmates got seated and buckled before the hatch came down and sealed them into their fates.

“A1 to Avalon, coms check.” the squad lead said over the fighters com-system and the squadron sounded off.

“A8, checking in.” Sal replied and set his eyes toward the shielding across the hangar opening, the chaotic dance of hyperspace just beyond seeming to hypnotize him for a moment before it tore and real-space punched through.

They were out in the black not a minute later.