Among the Dead (FO Dominion of the Dead Nebula and Vortusa)

[4ND-R0]

Location: Orbit of Virsun, Space Station, Training Section
Objective: 1 & 2
Allies: First Order personnel | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]
Enemies: None
Post: 01

Sterile white. That was all that he could see around him. It was a gentle place of silence for him. FN-1313 was able to breathe and see without the aid of the damned helmet on his head. Pale, scarred skin wrinkled back as he had holocommunications active, listening on various First Order public channels, available to most troopers and personnel to listen in. Nothing too alarming to his concern. An apparent biological quarantine simulation aboard the First Order Star Destroyer designated the Vindicator. Other than that, nothing. The cyborg trooper was very thankful to the scientist for at least building him this contraption. A meditation pod, based on those the ancient Lord Vader once used. It was a reprieve from being constantly stuck into the prison that was his armor. Yet, duty called. He waved the holocommunicator off, and pressed a sequence of buttons in the pod.

Mechanic grips whirred and moved, His helmet descended from its held place atop of the pod's "roof". He closed his brown eyes, knowing that the change from true vision to the optical sight of his suit would prove to be disorienting otherwise. He held still, feeling the machine lock his helmet on the rest of his suit. The armor pressurized, causing his ears to pop for a moment. He took a breath. Mechanical. Hooooo......pressshh. The had initially hated that sound, but he became used to it, and became worried if the suit did not make it. The meditation pod opened up, allowing the cybernetic trooper to stand and remove himself from it. Nearby was his DLT-19 inspired rifle, taking the weapon and strapping on his back before walking himself out into the various hallways and corridors of the under-construction station.

High Command had siphoned him off to this place for good reason. His cybernetics allowed him to physically lift and carry items many times heavier than what a normal trooper or personnel member could. Also, as a trooper with combat training, he could apply his skills into testing out the station's training facilities. In fact, that was where the large, enhanced trooper made his way to. Heavy footsteps stepped against the metal flooring of the station, following the signs in Auebresh until he found one clearly marked 'training facility'. FN-1313 walked himself in, and standing at attention. These were the parts he hated the most. Standing around while everyone gives a passing glance. Being taller, and int different armor than the stark-white troopers near him. "Trooper FN-1313, reporting in." His voice was heavily modulated, and deepened, "Reporting for tests of the training facilities, sir."

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post Three.
Objective Two.
[member="Rolf Amsel"].

A'sharad remained silent as he looked out of the viewports that the Observation Room boasted.

The Defenders of the training simulation were steadily being pushed back. There was an inclination that the Attackers had to climb, but the Sith was soon finding himself to be disappointed when advantages weren't being tken where they should've been. Of course, they heard the comms of both sides. The Defender's Platoon Leader had been taken down in the beginning of this Round, thus leaving the Defenders without a leader, however, he was surprised to have learned when he had entered the Room that no one had taken command.

Random commands and responses were spoken over the channels and when he waved his hand, they were muted.

The High Colonel couldn't handle it anymore.

By the time that Rolf Amsel had arrived to the Observation Room, the Attackers had already claimed the objective with only a handful of simulated casualties. Naturally under A'sharad's stern command they earned the reward of showers, a break, and then to return to the next set of drills. There was to be no slacking,one of his higher ups wanted a report on the results, and he would be the first of all Legions and Regiments to deliver it. Not because he specifically cared about his reputation in the First Order, but rather because he was already there.

So why not?

It'd be expected regardless.

When he had been made aware that his requested Trooper had arrived, he didn't look upon him. It was to be expected that he would be standing at attention. For all intents and purposes it looked as if A'sharad was ignoring him, as if he hadn't noticed he had even entered, had even heard him.

"Send in the next Attacking team," he said to one of the ensigns that operated the Station.

"Another Platoon, Sir?"

"Squad sized," he said shortly before clasping his hands behind his back and twisting on his heel to look upon the NCO.

"I've just finished looking at a poor example of what a Defending Platoon is to do in that simulation room," he explained. Outside and inside of the room, there were key points being reviewed, what had changed the battle, what could've turned it to the Defenders favour instead, many variables were being looked at. Rolf, would see the stomping the previous Defenders had quite clearly received, even the rest of his Squad outside of the Room too.

"Is your Squad up to the task, soldier?"

Of course, the writer had missed @FN-13-13 entering the training facility as well. Had his thoughts pulled him in too deep? Oh, he had arrived after Rolf.

Turning his head to walk in front of the enhanced trooper, there was a relatively amused curve to his lips. The Trooper was taller than him, not by much, but enough to make it clear.

"Take this one too, Trooper," he directed to Rolf. Never letting his golden orbs leave the form that is FN-13-13, the High Colonel continued on to say, "Have you also been assigned to the 482nd Infantry Regiment, or are you just participating?"

[member="FN-1313"]

 

[Visser Chernykh]

8/22
Vortusa (IV)

He should've known it wouldn't be so easy. A cave in such a harsh landscape would attract more than himself. He entered anyway with a glow-rod lit in hand. The greenish light gave illumination for less than three meters around him.

Mael found that the cave system seemed to warm deeper in. No doubt there was some underground hot springs beneath. He sat with his back propped against a stony wall after a time.

All of this spelled danger. He was too weary to notice as sleep took him....

 

[Miles Cormin]

Location: Vindicator hangar bay
Objective: Don't Press the Big Red Button
Secondary Objective: Stand in awe of the Knight of Ren
Allies: [member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Artemis Margs"] [member="Natasi Fortan"]
Enemies: None

Miles' company gave a collective cheer as the signal to finally depart came over their comms. The men had been waiting for apparently an unecessary reason for some time, and were more than ready to get off this ship. At least, until the air temperature dropped a dozen degrees. Even through his body suit Miles could feel the change, and he knew what it meant. A Knight of Ren. Miles could see his men get visibly more uncomfortable.

"Sir," Miles said to his captain, who managed to look pale even with a helmet on, "What should we do?" The captain swallowed hard. He knew that jetting out now would look bad. Something had to be going on if a Knight of Ren had interest in this vessel. If the company left now, the Knight would wonder why, and the last thing the captain wanted was a Knight of Ren breathing down his neck, trying to figure out why the company had left in a hurry when the Knight arrived.

"Cormin, with me. TK-662, take over command," the captain said. TK-662, first platoon leader, nodded as Miles and the captain trooped out. They reached the hangar and saw the Knight conversing with Lieutenant Margs.

"My lord," the captain said, "Captain Fil Geris, 1st Assault Infantry. I, um, sensed your arrival, and wondered if you required an impartial honor guard. Me and my men are not a part of this ship's complement."

OOC: Reason for sticking around is cause I am fascinated by Knights of Ren and am thinking maybe there are some things about Miles that only a Knight could figure out (look at bio to see what I mean)

 

[Artemis Margs]

Location: Orbit of Virsun and the construction site.
Post: 15
Allies: First Order
Enemies:None
Objective: Giving a Knight of Ren a tour.

The lieutenant breathed an audible sigh of relief as the knight seemingly ignored him. However, when he felt that cold robotic voice call him, he shivered. Cold beads of sweat ran down his forehead. "Is there anything I can do to as-" the soldier was cut off by the knight. "Of course sir." he said curtly, "If you'd just follow me..." The lieutenant said.

The walk towards the officers barracks was rather tense, with no small talk escaping the lieutenant. The hallways seem to empty themselves before the knight. Stormtroopers alternating patrol routes, or pilots even out right walking away. "We uh, we had a bit of a drill here." Margs said quietly, "It was Moff Fortan's idea." he added as he lead the knight into the turbolift to the officers medical bay. "She'll probably be there. Captain made a bit of a mess of things. Slight mental break down and all that."

[member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Post 4
Operation Whinging Fury
[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Miles Cormin"] | [member="Artemis Margs"]

Silver-green eyes fell on the Stormtrooper Captain as he turned to walk with Lieutenant Margs to where his Captain was currently located. Ciardha's metallic voice responded dispassionately. "I do not require an honor guard, Captain. I'm sure your superiors have need of your skills elsewhere." The Ren meant no disrespect, but he was not one for pomp and circumstance. Perhaps he would run into the Captain and his men on the station in rather short order.

As Ciardha walked with the Lieutenant, his breathing maintained a steady meter. It was only interrupted after the Lieutenant proclaimed the drill was Moff Fortan's idea. Stopping abruptly in the middle of the corridor, Ciardha reached out a hand to graps the young Lieutenant firmly on the shoulder. "This mis-managed slop of a drill was conceived of by Natasi Fortan?" There was no sense of intimidation in his voice, merely incredulity. Ciardha held the woman in high regard, and he rather believed that the Lieutenant maybe was not aware of what he was saying.

Once they'd slipped into the turbolift, Ciardha posed one more question to the Lieutenant, but it was rhetorical. "The Captain had a mental break down?" That was grounds for immediate removal from command and transfer to a treatment program. With a dismissive wave of his hand, Ciardha indicated that a response was not actually required. The Ren really hoped the Captain had not been broken by a simple drill. It did not bode well for his ability to remain calm and collected during an actual crisis.

 

[Miles Cormin]

[member="Caid Centurion"] [member="Artemis Margs"]

To be honest, the captain was rather relieved. He waved to Cormin and the two troopers returned to their shuttle.

"Well, that's that," the captain said.

"Are we going to leave?" Cormin asked, "Or remain here until the Ren leaves?"

"We will stay," the captain replied, "There are plenty of training drills we can carry out with out live fire." The captain directed his troops and they began marching around the hangar bay, practicing marching, ambush response, and movement-by-fire without firing a shot.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

9/22
Vortusa (IV)

Mael was again plagued by dreams of the past. So much that he wasn't aware of being dragged at first. He fought the grip of sleep as he realized the danger. Something had taken hold of his left leg.

He couldn't see in the darkness. He could feel that the hand was huge. It felt as if an industrial clamp had seized his calf. The heat was greater now too.

His mind worked slowly. Mael Ren cursed the fatigue for addling his brain. There'd been openings at the back of the cavern. Heat had come from them.

So he was being dragged down. Some kind of predator who lived underground. None came to mind nor could he see. His glow-rod seemed to have been left behind.

He stifled a sigh of relief when he found his saberstaff still there. The creature still thought him out cold. He unhooked the hilt deliberately. No need to give away what he was doing.

His thumb found an activation stud. No telling if there was room for both blades yet. He made his move. A crimson blade hissed to life.

Mael slashed at the claw. A horrible scream of pain came. The disciple scrambled back to open space. The gorgodon whirled to face him with a roar.

He could see the reptilian creature bearing down on him. It's claw hadn't been severed! A smoking rent had been the result. Even a lightsaber swipe couldn't cut through their rubbery hide.

The disciple had found his feet. Both hands took hold on the hilt and he took a low stance. Mael was forced to duck awkwardly when the creature took a swing. The tunnel made acrobatics impossible.

He kept scrambling up and back. The gorgodon advanced in the light of the bloodshine blade. Mael Ren could see how truly huge the beast was. It was made to hunch over to even fit.

Ren attempted to slice the monster's arm when it swung again. His hilt was ripped from his hands and sent skittering away. He cursed himself a fool as the light source winked out. The next swing connected with his chest.

Mael felt his feet lift off the ground. He sailed back weightlessly for what seemed an eternity. Then he crashed into hard rock. It drove the wind from his lungs.

He fought the encroaching blackness on his vision. Losing consciousness now would mean certain death. The man fought to a sitting position. The gorgodon advanced in it's clumsy way.

A rope of saliva hit him in the mask as the beast roared. He grimaced at the rubbery substance. Mael made a choice in that moment. If he was going to die so was his attacker.

He tried to laugh his his ribs sent searing pain through him. The pain focused him. It renewed his strength in the Dark Side. The disciple drew deeply.

The faces filled his vision as he drew. Mouthing the word 'betrayer' again and again. The rage mounted as the gorgodon closed in. He pulled the tunnel down around them.

He smiled as the blackness took him....

 

[Samka Derith]

Post 4
Name: Samka Derith; undercover as Lissanna Phyron
Objective: 3. Native Issues
Allies: The First Order
Enemies: -
Location: The Fortress, capitol of Cir, Dead Nebula system


Why was she cursed to be humiliated wherever she went? Samka was a woman of pride, born to wealth and luxury. A woman who was always taught the values of keeping appearances and then getting the respect one deserved. Since leaving the academy her life was turning from one embarrassment to another, this was surely not how the life of a Knight of Ren was supposed to be. Perhaps there was a lesson here. Perhaps she would reflect on it later. But for now it was taking every fibre of self-control to keep her role as sweet Lissanna Phyron going.

The boy, Regi, was guiding her around an art gallery a couple of floors down from where the local and First Order diplomats were meeting. She would admit, a few caught her eye and made her wish she was a better artist. The process was too slow, every inch of a painting had to be extensively planned and layered while Sam was too busy focusing on shaping the creation as a whole costing the precious detail that made the great stand apart from the good. It might not have been so bad if she'd been alone.

"Yes, the kingdom of Cir has had some of the greatest artists the galaxy has ever seen," Regi gestured to a portrait of a man in a cloak standing in front of a lake. His face was oddly distorted. Sam was not a fan but nonetheless fawned over it.

"Quite so, you must be so proud to belong to such fine people," she gave him a sunny smile.

"Of course," Regi puffed out his chest. "No where in the galaxy I'd rather be born."

Such an attitude would be tolerable if he'd been part of a major, influential power. Sam could admit that even the Galactic Alliance and Republic for all their many, many faults had some things citizens could take pride in. Yet here was Regi acting as though his desolate feudal ruin of a society was the envy of the galaxy. The First Order had decided to build its hidden space station out here precisely because it was a backwater nobody in the galaxy had reason to visit.

"Through here, there's something else I have to show you," Regi led her through a door into a darkened room. It was very bare compared to the gallery, clearly some sort of backstage area rather than for public showing.

"Are we.. allowed in here?" Samka asked taking another glance around the barren room. There was only a statue in the corner, it appeared to be an ancient ship of some kind.

"I'm allowed anywhere," Regi said nonchalantly. "I just had to show you this. It's only just been finished, that's why it's not out with the others yet." He walked up to the statue and began to stroke his finger tips along it. "This is the ship that took the first settlers here, including King Cir. It bought our people life."

They weren't alone anymore, she could sense it. Sam spun around to see two Gamorreans armed with their typical axes trotting in.

"And we can't allow The First Order to take that life away. We are not fools." Regi's tone had turned harsh. "You are now my hostage until The First Order leaves. For what it's worth, I think you are a sweet girl, Lissanna. I'm sorry you had to get wrapped up in all these politics."

He was sorry? Samka's face began to crack into a smirk. He'd finally made things interesting.

 

[Saki lin]

Objective- 1 and 3
Location- maintenance shaft going towards construction area
Allies- workers and all first order

After getting through security she was directed towards the maintenence shaft to had to the construction site, she quite frankly didn't like such small spaces of the shaft but would endure it for the first order.

Soon she arrived as she looked out....it was simply amazing....it was like two different landscapes meeting, the cold floor of the station and suddenly space with the planet looming below...this is why she flew ships...or worked on stations like these...the simple fact of the matter just the view you could get...

hey..hey!

She was suddenly pulled from the day dream by a scruff looking older man who looked at her as she turned to him" my apologies um where is the manager?

that be me little Missy what do you need

Names saki lin I'm here to help with construction of the station along side your men" she said short and simple yet kindly with a smike

uh huh I see names carver follow me "he said as he started walking saki following behind as she looked around passing those who were taking a break and getting something to eat and drinkissed, she was led to a area where suits sat made for maneuvering in space with zero gs while working on the station" go ahead and suit up now given your set of skills I had brought up "he said holopad in hand " your gonna be far out there with many of the long time workers now they'll be stubborn and probably rude but don't let it get ya down...now go get to work " he said as saki nodded and suited up and got into the tube feeling the pressure change outside and soon maneuvered into space out towards the far end
4/22

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 13
Operation Whinging Fury
[member="Caid Centurion"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] | [member="Artemis Margs"]

"Captain," Natasi said, trying to prevent her teeth from gritting too much. "What you need is to rest while the medical personnel discover what happened to cause you to..." She let her voice trail off. What could she say here? Faceplant so spectacularly that your career in the First Order Navy will be over before you can say boo. "Anyway. We'll wait for the test results to be conclusive. I wouldn't mention drinking again until you're in your quarters. Or are you simply determined to tear through every regulation the Navy has and force me to jettison you into the Dead Nebula?" The Moff rolled her eyes and shook her head, then turned as an Ensign arrive, murmuring nervously that, ma'am, a Knight of Ren is coming.

Natasi raised an eyebrow. What were the Ren doing aboard the Vindicator? She nodded her thanks and stood up, smoothing her dress. She headed for the turbolift lobby where she greeted the doors opening to reveal Margs and Centurion. Well, if it was Centurion, then that was all right. He was competent, at least, if somewhat abrasive. Not unlike Moff Fortan herself. "Lieutenant," she nodded to Margs. "Knight Ren, welcome aboard the Vindicator." She cut her eyes to Margs, wondering just what he might have said to Ren.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

10/22
In Orbit above Vortusa

Mael Ren now lay in the med bay of the corvette Snoke's Wisom. He was unconscious and hooked up to a bacta pump. Medical droids monitored the near-human's vitals. They were surprised that he was still alive.

They'd assumed him dead when they came over a day later. They found him crushed under thousands of pounds of rock. He'd still been breathing much to their amazement. The gorgodon nearby hadn't made it.

Med droids aboard the Wisdom had thought his death inevitable. Too many broken bones and too much damage. Even a partially collapsed lung. But he hadn't died.

His condition had gradually improved over the last day-and-a-half. Mael Ren was still many days from full recovery. Yet it appeared that might make it. The droids could only surmise it was his Force abilities that saved him from instant death.

Stormtroopers had located him via his beacon. The swipe of the gorgodon's claw had almost disintegrated his breastplate. That it had missed the beacon was purest luck. He'd have been lost there had it been hit.

They'd also found his saberstaff not far away. It was badly mangled but critical components were mostly intact. The trooper who'd found it had thought Mael deserved burial with his weapon. A noble gesture for a comrade in arms.

The disciple slept without dreams. Slowly but surely his body began to mend itself. Both medicine and the Force played their role. A nest of intravenous tubes were all around him.

A cocktail of bacta combined with painkillers and sedatives did their work.

 

[Artemis Margs]

Location: Orbit of Virsun and the construction site.
Post: 16
Allies: First Order
Enemies:None
Objective: Find a rifle barrel to swallow.

"To be fair, at least about the mental breakdown, the captain had been on a twelve hour shift, and had been touring around the ship. To then find out there was a pathogen aboard would have been rather stressful, and then having found out that this had all been for nothing..." the lieutenant paused, "I've known the captain for a few years now, he doesn't like being played the fool." The turbolifts door opened and revealed Moff Natasi with the captain lying on the bed and strapped to half a dozen machines. Margs withered beneath her derisive glare. How the hell did she know? The lieutenant saluted, and briskly stepped out of the lift. "Ma'am." he said, "Sir." he motioned to Carlyle.

Carlyle sat up, and watched the Knight of Ren walk in. He knew their reputation, and what to expect of such a warrior. They were hard, often brutal, but were effective. The captain watched quietly as Natasi became anxious. He rather enjoyed the sight, it was a taste of her own medicine in some respects. He gently lifted the glass on his bedside table, and drank some water from it. This exchange, would be interesting.

[member="Natasi Fortan"] and [member="Caid Centurion"]

 

[Caid Centurion]

Post 5

Ciardha slowly turned his masked head to the Lieutenant as he rifled off a bunch of excusess. They weren't even good excuses. Caid had been a military officer and a warrior for nearly the entirety of his wife. He'd even been Supreme Commander of the Galactic Republic. Nobody on this vessel or in this military would ever convince him that any amount of extended working hours or perceived stress excised a senior officer from losing their cool. Not. Ever.

As the lift doors opened, Caid was greeted with the sight of the woman of the hour. The Lieutenant motioned to the Captain but Caid ignored it. He would deal with [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] later. Offering a polite nod of the head to [member="Natasi Fortan"], the Ren's metallic voice immediately rolled forth. "Your Excellency. Might we speak privately?"

Caid immediately turned and stepped away from the turbolift lobby and apparent open doorway to the Captain's room.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

11/22
Above Vortusa

Days passed by and the man healed. His body was fortified by bacta. His mind was left to it's own devices. It happened in the subconscious.

Old wounds that'd laid dormant. They'd been broken open in the last handful of days. These memories had never truly left him. But they finally had begun the process of stitching together.

Brown eyes opened at some point. He saw bright lights overhead. Then a med droid hovered over him. It all happened in bits of pieces.

It seemed frame by frame. Everything stopped and started for him. He didn't realize he'd been drifting in and out. Minutes seemed to pass but it was truly hours and days.

Voices came and went. They seemed to echo at first. Mael assumed he heard them but he wasn't certain. Perhaps some of them were real and others were dredged up from within.

 

[Progflaw99]

-----
Location: Orbit of Virsun, Space Station, Training Section
Primary Objective: 1. Aid the completion of the station, including installation and systems calibration.
Secondary Objective: 2. Aid in systems facility testing and avoid the "Big Red Button".
Allied Forces: First Order | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="FN-1313"]
Enemy Forces: None Identified
Post 3 of 25
-----

Rolf kept his position of attention, his face etched in stone. His mind however was not as quiet, but he made sure his errant thoughts stayed in his brain, undetectable to anyone else. His squad was in fact a full squad of 13, three squads of four plus himself. He had trained his peripherals well, and he gleamed some of the data from the previous match up. The defenders had been trounced, thoroughly. It brought him pride to say he'd been teaching his men to operate regardless of who was in command. Each man in every one of the squads had learned the other men's job, that way in any scenario, one of them could take command as the situation required. While he did have confidence in his men, he wasn't too sure about the simulated terrain. He'd seen a brief glimpse of the layout, and there were a lot of angles that were bad on the defense.

He kept his cool, looking through his peripherals at another soldier who'd walked in. At least... he assumed it was a soldier. He appeared to be wearing a mask of some sort. His jaw tensed slightly. He didn't want to have to babysit. Grudgingly he told himself to take a breath. They would be fine, perhaps even working with this soldier would give them an advantage... but only if he was a team player. In the arena of life and death, often you came to rely heavily on those around you, each supporting each other and succeeding as a team... or dying as one. He would take the man with, if that was the Colonel's prerogative. The question sounded rhetorical, but he responded anyway.

"Yes sir, our squad is prepared and ready as ordered."

His men were ready. He was ready. Cautiously he could feel an ember of heat within his chest. He took a deep breath. He could already feel the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. The excitement that he felt while in the midst of combat simulations beginning to well up inside of him, the anticipation of the fight to come fueling his eagerness. He hadn't yet been dismissed, still standing at attention as he waited for the Colonel to finish addressing the newest assignment to the squad. They now numbered 14.

 

[4ND-R0]

Location: Orbit of Virsun, Space Station, Training Section
Objective: 2
Allies: First Order personnel | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]
Enemies: None
Post: 02

The enhanced trooper looked the officer. The man's uniform was indicative of a high rank, and his eyes gazed over to the man's rank sigil. High Colonel. "No, High Colonel, sir. I have not been given assignment to any specific outfit. One of my directives is to participate in the training facility's simulations. During these simulations, I am to test, assess, and report back to my superiors if I notice any malfunctioning or sub-optimal systems so that they may be repaired or made optimal." The trooper had hoped that he made himself clear. After all, these officer types preferred things not to be muddy with all their paperwork and regulations they needed to fill out. The High Colonel assigned him to the group that was going in, under the apparent command of the trooper designated as "Rolf". The cybenetic trooper turned and faced this very trooper. "Very well. Hail, Rolf. FN-1313. I wish our unit the best of luck."

He filed himself among the other stormtroopers of the unit. He pulled his modern DLT-19 rifle from its holster on his back, cradling it in a position familiar to most marksmen. He clicked a dial on the weapon, setting its output to "stun". As this exercise was going to be live fire, he assumed they would be using stun settings as to avoid injuring their fellow stormtroopers. After all, it was only a simulation, not an actual firefight. The mechanical breath of his respirator picked up a little. There was a bit of adrenaline coursing through him. Despite the recent military operations in the Anoat sector, the proxy-Dark Trooper had not been utilized heavily during that campaign. Despite it being a training exercise, it would his first battle in a long while.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Post Four.
Objective Two.

It was great to be in command.

Little to no questioning of orders. His smirk disappeared within moments as he turned away from both of the Stormtroopers. He hadn't dismissed them yet, and his parting words were, "See that you win. Dismissed." Clenching his four fingered right hand after he had turned his back to the rest of the room, his normal left hand clasped it as it went into position in the small of his back. Turning his head to the far side of the simulation room, the Attackers were filing in, preparing their routes.

Almost no teams had a chance to look at the layout of the training room before entering it. In a way, they would have an advantage if [member="Rolf Amsel"] had a mind for strategy.

Of course, the Trooper had no idea that was the case.

One was only able to gain admittance to the public viewing area if they had clearance, and if they were a Stormtrooper, had completed the course. Most teams rotated out to Defending to Attackers, so even if they failed on the side of the Defenders, they'd have another opportunity to succeed later. The course was difficult for the Defenders, due to the obstacles and walls being constructed for the benefit of the Attackers.

Angles.

That's what it was about the High Colonel realized.

After giving them a few minutes to prepare their defenses, A'sharad glanced to the ensign and said, "Signal the Attackers to begin."

@FN-13-13

 

[Progflaw99]

-----
Location: Orbit of Virsun, Space Station, Training Section
Primary Objective: 1. Defend against the attacking squad in the combat simulator.
Secondary Objective: 2. Aid in systems facility testing and avoid the "Big Red Button".
Allied Forces: First Order | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="FN-1313"]
Enemy Forces: Incoming Squad, "Hotel Squad", 14 Troopers
Post 4 of 25
-----

Rolf hadn't responded to the address from the man, machine hybrid trooper standing before him. Interesting that they chose this day to test their research projects, but he kept that to himself. As the Colonel dismissed them, he swiftly clicked his heels and performed an about face, his steps taking him out of the observation room and into the corridor. As the doors closed behind him, Rolf raised his voice slightly, addressing the squad.

"Listen up. We've got simulator duty, Objective is to defend point A. The attackers will be coming at us from point B. You'll see the information on your HUD."

He knocked twice with his fist on the helmet he held in the crook of his arm, nodding his head towards the defender's staging area.

"Helmets."

With that statement the troops raised their helmets in unison, donning them and filing down the corridor until they reached the defender's staging area. Quickly Rolf huddled the fireteam leaders together, outlining his plan of action. He spoke a few words and then looked over his shoulder. That hybrid trooper was here, right. Waving the man/machine over, he continued.

"Fireteams one and two, I want you to lay down a base of fire. From the angles here, if the attackers gain the high ground, they'll be able to pick us off without much of a fight. See how the walls funnel their way to our point here?" Rolf moved his arm, indicating what he was talking about. "I want FT one on the left, FT two on the right. You see that bunker there?" Once more he indicated what he was talking about by pointing with an outstretched arm. He knew they were out of the view of the enemy team. "FT three, I want you to sprint to that bunker there, you need to make it there first. drop any excess gear and hand it off to FT one or two. Weapons and ammo. If you can take that point, we'll be in good shape. Go."

First and Second Fireteam quickly set up defensive positions as best they could, their goal to provide as much covering fire for third as they could while FT3 sprinted towards the bunker. That was only part of the plan. Rolf expected to lose one, maybe two men at most on the sprint, but it was essential that the enemy's focus be the central point. Once FT3 made it, FT2 would sprint up behind them and once they were set, FT1. Rolf grinned beneath his helmet. He felt confident, a strange calm coming over him. It was almost as if he could sense the tension in the room, fueling his mind. The objective was to defend... but there was nothing saying they couldn't make an attack on their own. As Rolf well knew, the adage was a little cliche but it wasn't wrong; sometimes the best defense was a good offense.

"Fireteam four, flank left, I want you to watch the left approach. Thirteen Thirteen, with me on the right flank. We're going to slink along the right side while their focus is drawn to the center and left. Once we get behind them, we'll have a good firing angle on all the attackers."

With a loud chant, the squad began preparing, waiting for the signal to commence. When it came, they were ready. As if the hounds of hell were at their heels, fireteam three raced for the central bunker, stun bolts flying past them the moment their feet began pushing them towards their objective as covering fire erupted from the two fireteams behind them. FT4 immediately began tracing around the left side of the arena, firing bolts as they leapfrogged from cover to cover, never exposing themselves without covering fire. The plan was simple enough and their communication was flawless. No unnecessary chatter, no yelling or screaming, just the calm voices of well trained soldiers.

Rolf and 1313 had begin slinking around the right side of the arena, using the cover as much as they could to their advantage. Darting from obstacle to obstacle they kept their heads low and refrained from firing as they attempted to get around the flank of the enemy. The volume of fire coming to and from the central bunker was impressive, the bright beams of light flickering rapidly as FT3 provided covering fire for FT2 as they followed in their footsteps, sprinting as if their lives depended on it. As they arrived at the central bunker, they turned their blasters to the right, engaging the enemy that was taking a short flank on the right. Rolf could see them but he would have to get further along the right wall before he'd have a good angle of fire on them. He hoped they could hold out long enough. FT4 on the left was also engaged, their fight going much differently. Ducking in and out of cover, they fought in close quarters with the enemy, it seemed the enemy had planned to push in on the defender's left flank. FT4 was making sure that didn't happen. So far so good, not a single squad member had been hit to this point. If their plan worked as well as he had guessed, they may even be able to defeat the enemy squad without any casualties.

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Post 1 of 25
Objective: BYOO
Location: The Dead Nebula

For too long, the Dead Nebula had been a lawless region.

The entire sector was a tomb. Five planetary systems bereft of life. Forever altered by both the Gulag Plague and the panic it had inspired.

There was much fear in this part of space, both in the distant past as in the present.

The Bothan was huddled up against the airlock. His fur disheveled. His clothes ragged, stained, and torn. His breathing came in haggard, labored efforts. His eyes, bloodshot, seemed to teeter on the edge of madness. He was a felinoid with his back to the abyss, his hands shaking violently as he tried to remove a jammed blaster cartridge from out of his weapon.

Through the ship, he could hear the echoes of footsteps. Voices. Shouting. Screaming. The chaotic and symphonic experience of people dying, and not well. The music of men's mortality punctuated by a silence that was deafening.

The lighting was flickering. Main power was failing. In the stillness which now permeated the husk of a dying ship, the sound of the Bothan's own breathing seemed unusually louding, echoing in his own ears as the man knelt and struggled with the jammed blaster rifle in his arms.

Then he felt it.

Cold.

His matted, bloodied fur stood on end. His breath appearing as vapor before his very eyes. Wide-eyed, the stocky felinoid looked up and could see ice beginning to form on the walls and ceiling of the corridor.

Then it appeared. Humanoid. Short. Small. A black cloak masked the build of the individual, who was dressed in a silver and black armor. A large, mirrored glasteel plate dominated the forward part of the helmet. Three First Order stormtroopers appeared behind him, as the four came around the corner toward the airlock's dead end... where the Bothan labored with the broken blaster and his back to the wall.

"I understand you have an interest in our new station."

The voice. Female? No, it seemed too raspy. Too... young?

Tossing aside the worthless blaster, the Bothan looked up at the approaching figures and found himself staring at his own reflection in the faceplate of the the black cloak leading the stormtroopers.

It was an experience like that of seeing your own mortality walking toward you. Backed against the bulkhead, the Bothan's bloodshot eyes briefly darted for want of somewhere to escape the tides of darkness which now rose before him... and saw there was no where to run. No where to hide.

He had come to the end of the road.

Turning his head, the man's breathing accelerated to the point of hyperventilation. A panel to his left. The airlock controls.

If this was the end... then at least they would voyage that final frontier together.

He turned sharply, his large paw extended out to activate the controls that would open the airlock and decompress the ship. Blow them all into the vastness of space.

His paw stopped just a half inch from the activator panel. Held in place by some unseen hand. Some unseen Force.

Black and white armored gloves grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back and spinning him around. The Bothan's face was now mere inches from the mirror plating of the dark youth's helmet.

"The Supreme Leader has extended you a personal invitation to tour it," the clipped, mechanical tones of the young voice remarked flatly.

"I am sure you will not refuse it."