Built for Slaughter [Imperial Confederation/Corellian Confederation]

[Tanomas Graf]

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Their technological edge had been fading.

The other galactic powers were quickly catching up with and even surpassing the mighty warships of the Imperial Confederated Navy. But the high chancellor was not worried in the slightest - no, the ships that had been designed for the former Galactic Empire were already considered obsolete in the free market, especially with the armed ingenuity of the Golden Company making itself known in the form of the imposing Guerdon. The earlier acquisition of Kuat and the observation of Thyrsian machinery in action gave them some insight on how to improve their shipbuilding doctrine.

What resulted after months of conceptualizing frightened even him, a career naval officer who had seen the evolution of war in space for the past few decades. But it also excited him greatly, the thought of indisputable naval supremacy in the Core and beyond being the ambition of any aspiring dictator that knew their craft and how to apply it. To the benefit of some of the more traditional officers in the Navy, the design itself did not deviate from their favoured aesthetic: a dagger-shaped star destroyer that had gone down in history as a symbol of terror for those that dared make an enemy if it.

The Imperator-class Star Destroyer, a ship class that they were not merely revising or breathing new life into, but their own unique capital ship. The chief figure of the restored empire's democratically-supported dominion over the Deep Core, a tool used to protect the inhabitants from those who wished to bring them harm. Perhaps more sinisterly, a tool that Tanomas Graf could utilize to bring those that stood in his way to their knees.

He smiled at the recently-completed prototype in its drydock, his arms folded in front of his chest as he considered each and every ship he would have destroyed with this monstrosity.

Objective:

• The Corellians will be attempting to destroy the newly-constructed HMIS Defender in its dock. Use all available assets, from planetary militias to orbital defences, to protect this vessel from their wrath. Once the artificial intelligence has been initialized, the destroyer will activate and fend off any stragglers.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Cynthia Alucard, Pixie Wing Commander
Location: The Tuatha De Danann
Starcraft: TIE/IN Mark IV Interceptor
Attire: Flight Suit
Allies: CIC

Engaging: ​

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Cyn’s eyes carefully read the data-slate, her new orders for the Propaganda Ministry had asked her to fly with her new TIE Interceptor, especially designed for new posters as well as symbols to sell for children. Something about getting them used to the idea of seeing our Imperial vessels and craft. It made sense to her, but much like her last poster that the Ministry had all but took executive decision, Cyn found herself questioning every letter on the report and briefing mission details. Perhaps better to simply check the TIE craft herself, Cyn closed her data-slate and headed out of her office and towards the hanger-bay.

Thankfully she would not be assigned any planet duty photo-shoots or helping out the recruitment center, instead she would simply be using her new TIE fighter for a few shots and perhaps a few performance maneuvers to get some nice clips for the Holo-Net reel. Honestly, Cyn felt mostly content with the whole ordeal, flying was as close to second nature as breathing itself. Natural ability aside, Cyn reached the final doors to the hanger-bay but stopped for a moment to find several of the Ministry staffers excitedly awaiting for her at the doors.

The three held their data-pads close to their chests and smiled happily at their Poster-Child for their propaganda efforts. With a rather lazy salute, Cyn allowed the three to escort her to the hanger-bay, their voices chattered on how they finally found the right color for the TIE panels, and how it would make such great strides in increasing their enlistment numbers to even greater heights. Cyn ignored most of their conversation up until she stopped short in her tracks, her eyes wide as ever, attempting to take in the sight of her new TIE Interceptor.

“W-w-what is that?!” Cyn pointed, her voice barely keeping the forced calm. Why is it bloody purple and red stripes! Cyn nearly felt inclined to attack the three tittering fools from the Ministry of Propaganda but cooler heads prevailed, for the moment at least. Her TIE had the iconic red stripes that usually indicated to other pilots that this TIE Pilot was awarded with great honors and the true threat on the battlefield. Cyn avoided such obvious markings that made her stick out like a sore thumb, but this abomination of a paint-job wouldn't just make her stick out like a sore thumb. It would amputate the thumb clean off the hand and pour vinegar and salt all over the open wound, and then set the wound on fire.

"W-wh-what-?" Cyn stuttered for another moment as she attempted to catch her bearings.

“Oh, well we also have a blue and green one here, but the focus groups determined that neither really looked like your type of ship.” One of the three spoke, as he showed Cyn the other two color designs of her precious TIE Interceptor.

Cyn twitched and almost went for her holstered blaster pistol, but instead only found her fist clenching her pant leg and air. Her blaster holster had been left inside her room, and perhaps fortunately for the three Staffers, the friendly fire statistics would be raised slightly higher that day. Yet. For the moment, she would only need to suffer such embarrassment for a short while, but the recording of the event would last forever. Cyn considered briefly the merits of desertion; the fact she would barely live with the embarrassment slightly won out against the idea of capital punishment for deserters. But it was a close thing for Cyn.

“So how long do I need to fly in. . . that?”

 

[Dracken Pryce]

Objective: Operation Damocles
Allies: Corellian Confederation
Enemies: CIC

It was a naval operation on a scale that he didn't think the Corellians were ready for yet. One that he had thought would have left too many worlds open to retaliation if they failed or took too many casualties. But as the blue of hyperspace began to fade into the black of space he steeled his resolve.

The Core Imperial Confederation truly had done nothing as it currently stood, but there were few in the Galaxy that didn't know what was truly going on with a man like Tanamous Graf running things. One of the most notorious admirals in the Galaxy, he'd served several of the Galaxy's most tyrannical governments and factions. It was a wonder the Corellian Confederation didn't just put a bounty on his head.

Instead the Corellians had forgone all pretext with the neighboring Core Imperial Confederation. Border skirmishes had been going on for months, in fact this would be the second time the Corellians would meet the Imperials at Kuat. what they were doing now...It couldn't be undone. A surprise attack on the Core Imperial World of Kuat, rather specifically an attack on one of the satellite shipyards of Kuat. Corellian Naval Intelligence had told Corellian High Command of an experimental star destroyer, one that if left to be completed would give the Core Imperial Confederation a severe advantage when, not if, war broke out between the two factions. But today the Corellians mad the first strike, he had no doubt that back on Corellia the Diktat was already getting put into makeup and the holocams were warming up...For a formal declaration of war.

The First Fleet had been mobilized. Portions of both Task Force Starchild and First Fleet's Hawks had been pulled from patrolling border systems. As the Starchild dropped out of hyperspace he realized that he was one of the last ones to arrive. No fewer than three of the new Starhawks were already in formation along with several of the new Corellian Desroyers looming around the edge of their formation. Pryce's own forces included the Starchild, several supporting Bothan Assault cruisers, the Starchild's underslung frigate escort which had yet to be deployed, and a few miscellaneous cruisers and support vessels.

Garvey's form materialized from the command table Pryce stood at.

"Sir, the lead Starhawk is hailing! Its Commodore Jones." Pryce folded his arms in thought. He'd thought that Faylen would have jumped at the chance to see combat here.

"Patch him through." Garvey nodded and his image was replaced with the hologram of Commodore Jones. He was second in command of the First Fleet's Hawks and ten times more cocky than his superior, Commodore Faylen.

"Good to see you Admiral," he started, offering Pryce a salute. The Commodore was a slightly pudgy Rodian. The normally sing-songy voice of Rodian accented basic came in warbled, distorted tones over the connection. Pryce returned the salute.

"Are your men ready for the operation to begin?" The Rodian nodded.

"Our engines are hot and the tractor beams are ready to rip that hunk of Imperial junk right out of the stars." Pryce's eyes became stern. He hoped the older Rodian didn't have some sort of grand plan of his own. For now though Pryce simply nodded and looked towards the far corner of the table where Garvey had moved to and gave the VI a second nod.

"Then begin Operation: Damocles."

Spoiler

[member="Rimateen Riverwolf"] [member="Anne Albright"] [member="Forim Viridux"] [member="Jek Tarson"]

Corellian Objectives:

• Operation Damocles: Escort the starhawks and engage the enemy until the Starhawks are within range to use their incredibly powerful tractor beams to pull the under construction star destroyer free of the docking clamps and destroy the ship while its trapped in the Starhawk Quartering maneuver
• Whats Yours is Mine: Board the HMIS Defender and procure information on the Imperator-Class Star Destroyer
• Gimmie Your Lunch Money!: Board the shipyards and procure information on Core Imperial fleet or logistics movements
• BYOO

 

[Jek Tarson]

Corellia's Pride dropped out of hyperspace, her hull flashing in the starlight as if she were fresh off the production line. Her engines had been refurbished, weapons re-aligned, and thruster servos calibrated. The vessel's experimental booster fuel tanks were full, and her pilot's pockets were empty. He had been putting off general maintenance on the ship for far too long and, after several near misses on the ship's last outing, he had realized it would be better to run himself broke on repairs and upgrades than risk getting blasted into space ash.
The freighter-sized vessel glided into formation with the rest of the Corellian fleet, the lights of the other ships glistening off her seagoing-like hull. Chatter filled the bridge of the vessel as her short range radio picked up the exchanges of orders and confirmations going on between the surrounding ships. The pilot altered the settings on the radio to listen only to the ships he would be receiving orders from, while also leaving open any frequencies he knew of that the enemy might use. The Pride found her place just behind a squadron of fighters and entered a holding pattern, drifting along with them. Her hull wobbled slightly, as if she was begging to be sent forth at full throttle. She was designed as a racer, after all.
"You know how long I've had Kuat on my bucket list?" The captain and pilot of the Pride, Jek Tarson, spoke into the ship-wide radio.
"Didn't this hull come from Kuat?" Jek's rear gunner, a twi'lek named Nora, asked without the use of the radio since her gun was positioned in the aft of the bridge.
"Yes and no." Jek said. "I ordered a few reflector plates from here, but not enough to justify my own trip out."
"Is it anything like you imagined, boss?" The Ithorian engineer, Baggy, was heard over the radio from the engine room.
"Better. I imagined just coming here for a tour and a souvenir. I never imagined I'd get to blow something up."
"I'm the gunner. I blow the stuff up."
"Trigger for the main forward cannons is on my yoke, sister."
"And I load the torpedoes."
"And Baggy loads the torpedoes. I've got a feeling about this, friends. A good feeling."

[member="Dracken Pryce"]

 

[Jared Starchaser]

Jedi, or Jensaarai. Corellian or Mirialan. Warden of the Sky, or Corellian National.

Jared Starchaser rode the line between many things. He was a wanderer and a military contractor. He was a patriot and a lone wolf. But one thing was for certain.

Jared Starchaser was a plot.

Much like his family namesake, the man was really wild behind the stick of any craft corvette class or smaller. But today? He was flying in a YTA-1300 for the Confederation. A hired pilot, he was grinning as the ship was hurtling through hyperspace. He had music playing over the intercom and was all but air drumming on the control panel as he looked over at his Selonian pilot. The musteline being was shaking her head as Jared worked some of the controls. He was not really manually piloting, but what he was doing was setting the ship up for the re-entry. He had a very specific set of orders for the mission. He was hoping he was going to be assigned fighter duty, but not right away.

“Away team, how we lookin’?” He said, over the intercom, the music only becoming mildly softer.

“We’re good here Captain, you just get us where we need to be.” Came a call from a gruff Corellian soldier. And Jared was nodding to himself.

“We’ll get you to the ball on time, Sarge. How about you, Hopper, we going to be ready for the big show?” The intercom with the Starchaser’s voice jumped to the rear of the ship as the droid beeped.

A lot of care was going in for this. The YTA-1300’s reactor was overcharged to allow for the SLAM engine to come be installed, even if it was going to be dropped really quickly. The timing was going to be occurring with the Starhawk Quartering. A rush up, drop off of the Away Team, and then dive into the fray.

“Need our gunners ready. We won’t have power for you right away, but want you frosty.” Jared ordered. “Real space reversion in 3… 2…”

There was a small lurch to the freighter. As it entered the system, it went into a low power mode, shields down, weapons off, engines barely keeping moving, but again, the ship was entering the system after and away from the Starhawks. “Tria…” He said, turning to his co-pilot. “Spin up the next track.” He knew it wouldn’t be long.

Mission was simple. Hit the SLAM, launch proton torpedos, fly by, drop the SLAM, circle, drop away team. Then fight.

What could go wrong?

 

[Marriskcal Lati]

Captain Marriskcal Lati - Du Couteau,
Commissariat for State Security & Force-Related Affairs
Equipment: Uniform (Made of Shell Spider Silk), Precision Carbine, Lightsabre x2 (Azure & Cyan), and Throwing Knives
Location: Drydock, Kuat
In the vicinity: [member="Tanomas Graf"]

Marriskcal Lati has never been a connoisseur of star destroyers and its brethren.

Yes, she held a sense of awe for the destructive potential they contained within their vast forms, and how the very mention of them brought about a frisson of fear in most beings.

But other than that? She was merely content to consider them as temporary bases that carried her from world to world.

So while she escorted the vaunted high chancellor of the imperium with nary a hint of displeasure of her mien as he admired the latest vessel, Marriskcal found the whole ordeal tedious. As always, she followed the oldyoung man at a distance; partly because she wished to allow him the illusion of privacy, but mostly because she was of two minds when it came to his existence. And so long as she remained ambivalent towards this Tanomas Graf being, it was much easier to preserve her calm veneer from afar.

But even as she shadowed his steps from a distance, the swirls of his pleasure and pride was inimitable, especially with the white noise of sentient and machine drones alike resonating within the cavernous dock. So despite her own desire to ignore his form while carrying out her obligations, he continued to draw her attention with the rise and fall of his unworded sentiments shading the Force.

How infuriating.

 

[Iresias Sirax]

Iresias Sirax
BLACKLIST OPERATIVE - ZERO-DELTA WRAITH

<>​

Equipment: See Bio
Location: Drydock, Kuat
Nearby: [member="Marriskcal Lati"] - [member="Tanomas Graf"]

Nothing. Nothing coursed through the mind behind the faceless visage of transparisteel - the faintest semblance of a heartbeat pulsated within, blackened and shriveled, unmoved and lacking the proverbial heartstrings to be pulled or plucked by trivial emotions. There was nothing sentimental underneath the pure white of duraplast armor, only a kind of hardwired programming wrought by the rigorous years of training and deployment - combat seen spanning throughout city streets and deeper still within the underbelly of Zeltros and Coruscant alike.

Iresias stood idle with arms crossed as she leaned against a wall, observing the ever busy tedium of Imperial ingenuity. Her eyes fell upon the one and only Tanomas Graf - a man she hardly knew on a personal level, if at all. Iresias' presence more than likely wouldn't be acknowledged; however, she felt closer to him than he could possibly ever fathom. Alas, such was only natural when one cleaned another's messes.

For every crime against the Empire, for every lowly rotten deed that needed one's particular prowess, Iresias was the shot in the dark. She was the hand that submerged into the crimson of potential dangers and those unwanted by the decree of Imperial rule. Through this she understood that even the most prestigious of academies - even the very resolve of the Empire had its secrets. Their share of skeletons in the closet.

Iresias remained silent as she continued observing - her HUD filling with streams of data as she kept up to date with the progress at hand.

 

[Jared Starchaser]

As the Starhawks began to move, Jared nodded. He was waiting… waiting… and as soon as he saw the Imperials taking the fight to the Starhawks? He put his hand over the lever for the SLAM. Waiting… and when it was clear the engagement was on. At least in front of him, he kicked the throttle to full. “Hang tight!” The pilot shouted over the intercom as he hit the SLAM lever to full. The YTA-1300 began moving, like a drop of pure coaxium placed in the reactor.

Listing to the side, it took more than just the controls on the ship, it took the Force to right the craft. Bulkier than the fighters he’s used the SLAM in. This was going abit different. Calls from each station reporting loss of fire control, or shields as the freighter’s system was focused on propulsion.

“Hopper, count me off…” Jared ordered as he saw them getting closer to the target. But the strike had to be precise. The droid was plugged in but Jared had to make sure that he was ready to help with the guidance of the ordinance.

 

[Tanomas Graf]

High Chancellor Tanomas Graf​

Location: Orbital Shipyard, Kuat​

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Tanomas' internal dialogue was fortunately interrupted when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, He carefully craned his head to the side, as if admiring a row of turbolasers on the destroyer's starboard hull, and caught a glimpse of this interlopers, a commissar and a mercenary, in his peripheral vision. He wasn't Force-sensitive whatsoever, but something felt off about the person that was watching him from afar, especially one that could likely be under the control of a man who has tried time and time again to dispose of him.

He blinked several times, his paranoia getting the best of him for a moment before he was able to collect his thoughts. No, now was not the time to think that ever unfamiliar face was out to kill him, he was in Imperial space after all and nothing if not a beloved leader (he hoped). A sharp tingle in the centre of his forehead preceded, by a split second, the blaring klaxon siren of the shipyard as it went off all around him.

The old man pivoted on the spot, sticking his arm out to halt an officer that was running past him. "Status report, what's happening?" He barked, the tired lines on his eyes disappearing as the lion showed itself once more. "Vessels bearing CDEF signatures have reverted near the dockyard and are on attack vector with the station, my Lord." He sputtered in one long breath, straightening long enough to give a quick salute, "Commander Sheotah has already announced action stations and told the fighters to be prepped for launch immediately."

The elder Graf acknowledged and let the man return to his previous course of action, striding over to a nearby data terminal and inputting his clearance codes. Several short seconds of searching later and he located what he was looking for: the technical readouts of the Imperator-class. He downloaded them to his wristpad and heavily encrypted the rest, locking them behind several levels of security that, even though still fallible, would hopefully waste enough time for the files to be further secured.

He turned to the blonde girl and masked individual that had been stalking him for Maker knows how long.

"Come on - star destroyer, now."

[member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Jared Starchaser"] | [member="Iresias Sirax"] | [member="Jek Tarson"] | [member="Dracken Pryce"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"]​

 

[Dracken Pryce]

~Commodore Jones~
He’d thought Kuat would have been better defended, especially this area of the Imperial’s operation. Instead what loomed before the Starhawk formation was a pitiful defense of corvettes and whatever the station itself had to offer. Sensors were reading the mystery destroyer as limited power, probably just the basics so that teams could work internally.

“Tell the Destroyers to move in on those corvettes, barrier formation. I want Squadron One, launched.” The vessel’s VI nodded her head respectfully, gave a salute, and blipped out to dole out orders. The Corellian Destroyers that had been looming lazily around the formation of Starhawks tightened and their turbolasers swung towards the corvettes headed their way. They fired. Brilliant lances of green energy lit up in the darkness of space as they pelted corvettes in a cone of fire. Jones smiled to himself. If the fight was going to be this easy, they should have just opted to take the whole planet from those dirty Imperials…

~Admiral Dracken Pryce~

Garvey recoiled from the data he was viewing as the battle began.

“They’re firing on the Imperial Corvettes!” Pryce sighed but chuckled.

“You sound surprised. That is what we’re here for. Get a message out to those hired pilots. We need to take this opportunity to hit them now and get our teams in. We need that data, before our Hawks pull that ship to bits.”

“Yessir.”


“You heard the man,” Pryce shouted over the bridge, “Full battle stations, prepare to launch Green Squadron and bring long range turbolasers to full power.” The bridge became a scramble of activity with the orders handed out. They were vanguard here, only there to watch the Hawks work and provide support where they could and when it made sense. If an Imperial task force dropped out of hyperspace for battle…They’d be ready.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Iresias Sirax"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Jek Tarson"] [member="Cynthia Alucard"]

 

[Forim Viridux]

Pouring out from a Corellian destroyer, Twelve T-95 X-Wings formed up in an arrow shaped formation, joining the operation that has already began.

Inside the cockpit of one X-Wing on the far right end sat the Duros pilot Forim Viridux. Conducting a last second check up on his controls, the young pilot nodded to himself, approving the results. Pal the astromech chirped, asking his humanoid comrade for what he thought.

“Great as always Pal. Just work on your attitude and you will be perfect.”

The little droid squeaked back a retort, letting Forim know what he thought of that advice. The blue alien grinned in amusement and replied. “You know my helmet won't fit there.”

Jokes and insults aside they depended on each even before enlisting with the Corellian Defense Force. Forim wouldn’t trade their partnership for a world. Further thoughts on the subject were interrupted when he heard his squadron leader Garvin.

“Alright Mynocks ready yourselves we’re in the big leagues. These Imps are scum but don’t underestimate them. Our objective is to help escort the Star-Hawks long enough to do their job. That means don’t stray too far from those ships under no circumstances am I clear?”

Once acknowledged Mynock squadron increased speed to join the effort in guarding the left flank of the Star-Hawk formation. From his pilot seat young Forim can see exchange of laser shots between the opposing sides. The Duros could almost admire the sight until remembering that it means people are dying.

“Lock s-foils in attack position.” Garvin ordered to all members and quickly the fighters’ wings formed into that iconic x shape as they drew closer to the shipyards. Here we go again. Thought Forim to himself.

[member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Cynthia Alucard"] [member="Dracken Pryce"] [member="Jek Tarson"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"] [member="Iresias Sirax"]