Junction CRISIS ON KUAT II | GA & NIO Junction of Korbin & Anzat

[Karissa Saitel]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/916099948024565781/929705073519493140/Kuat_3.jpg

OBJECTIVE: PEACEWALKER
CODENAME: SHIV
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
EQUIPMENT: SBG-01x Bodyglove | civilian clothes | ACS-208 Wrist Ion Beamer |
BH-Specter Slicer Vibroknife | BH-Durin Charric Blaster Pistol

NIO | Jordi Massad | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Kolson Vrask | Iseri Tanaka
RA/GA | CH3 | IVI

​

She knew the Iron Lady was on the move, she knew that at least some of the vehicles leaving were decoys. But whether it was the airspeeders or ground speeders she had no idea. Karissa's task was finished at that point, her role of intel on Elane of Kuat getting them up to that moment. The other operatives and NIO elements awaiting at the rally would complete the mission. The IMPMAG team and Chief Yubari, Bekora and Massad were..somewhere. She was to simply offer support, and to keep her eyes open. Karissa began to head towards the square.

Elane would be delivered safely through the riotous streets to make her speech. Supporters crowded around awaiting their savior, while Karissa lingered at the edge. The tension was thick, the crowd like a detonator, and Elane would be the trigger to set it off. If the NIO were successful in their mission, that too would press the button.

Her comm had been quiet, until a light crackle in her ear caught her attention and Grunge's voice delivered a heads up.

<"Shiv- be careful. We have a rebel asset not too far by, keep an eye on it. Looks like some sort of protocol droid, I'll ping it on our motion sensors. Keep eyes on the venue.">

The ISB agent's eyes swung around the crowd, until she spotted the droid. <"Copy...same droid I saw with the Lady, its armed and on the move. I'm on it."> She replied.

Karissa wove casually through the crowd, tailing the armed droid.

 

[Monos]

SITREP: FUBAR
Infiltrating the Repair Bay.

Act I.

Engaging: Hal Vaiken
SCAR SQUADRON: Atticus Draco Lily Stevens Volgin Alto
WARHOGS: Traden Avarice Phaineve Halseigh Keiran Varn Zav Traros

Equipment in bio.

​

Should his life flash before his eyes? Should he feel an overwhelming sense of peace, or perhaps fear?

Whatever he should feel is rendered irrelevant by his predicament, since at this very moment, Mox is staring down an incoming rocket with a dumb grimace on his face. He inhales sharply and turns his head away, as if that would change anything, and then… an explosion… somewhere to the side.

He cautiously opens his eyes, only to find himself somehow alive, the rocket averted, and the heroic War Hogs swarming the hangar, each operative moving with determination and ruthless experience. Focused, capable battle-brothers and sisters whose moves play into those of the others; looking at them from his elevated position, Mox sees a rehearsed dance of death playing out before him. This relentless force of covert operatives is quickly punching a hole through the enemy lines.
​

"Peekaboo."​

"MOXXY! HAVING ALL THE FUN WITHOUT ME MY FRIEND?!"​

– Hahhaaa! – The Anzellan bursts out in childish joy, throwing his arms in the air as he hops down from cranes' operating panel. – Keiran!! Traden! You beautiful BASTERDS! Thanks for the --- whoah! – The tiny alien stops abruptly and covers his ears as he recognizes the Warhogs' own tank, Mr. Cuddles rip open a large swatch of maneuverable space in the hangar. Still located atop the service tower from before, the small Rebel Alliance operative throws his back against a couple of cargo boxes for cover. As soon as the barrage from the AI-controlled war machine dies down, and Zav's explosives create a brief moment of calm within the storm following their detonation, Mox taps the commlink in his ear and chimes in on their shared frequency. – Ladybird! Absolutely love your style! Haha! – Referring to her destructive, but awesome landing. The Anzellan is jittery, as he is overflowing with adrenaline. – Okay! I'm breaking out of the hangar! Or scouting ahead! Whatever! – He unplugs his datapad from the console behind him and taps on it a couple of times. – Also, uploading blueprints found on crane controls! Though they a bit weird. – He reports, slips his datapad in his back pocket, and unclips his rifle from the weapon belt across his chest.
​

"WAR HOGS!! ENGAGE!!"​

Mox peeks out of cover and seizes his chance of advancing. His immediate goal is to leave the hangar through the front gate and make his way through the repair bay. Within the relative safety of a covering fire, his jetpack blares to life and after a running jump off of the edge of the tall service tower, he tears across the hangar, dodging flames and speeding projectiles as the burning engine on his back propels him forward. A crazy move on the surface, but the breakneck turns are nothing for a feather-light being such as Mox. The forces of gravity simply don't have that much of a sway on the miniscule assassin.

As Mox flies toward the durasteel gate leading out of their hangar and into the repair bay, a single Kuati insurgent jumps out of cover and stands in his way. The man readies his blaster rifle and opens fire. The Anzellan performs a spectacular barrel-roll mid-air, successfully dodging the insurgent's line of fire. Only a couple of meters separate the two at this point. A click of the button on his wrist, and his jetpack is abruptly switched off. Propelled now only by inertia and his vector of approach descending rapidly, the rifle-wielding Anzellan somersaults in the air, his opponent's stock scraping the jetpack on his back but ultimately missing him – and with full force, plows into the exposed face of the man in front of him with both legs.

The man's nose spews a tissue's worth of blood following a cracking sound and stumbles back, instinctively reaching up to his nose with his empty hand. The Anzellan simply lands on his feet like a seasoned acrobat, points his rifle's barrel toward the man's belly, and pulls the trigger – holding it down until the whole cell is spent. A fleshy, disgusting undertone soon joins the sharp, energetic sounds of the automatic laser discharges. The man soon falls on his back with a blackened hole burnt through his torso. – Going in! – The assassin reports nonchalantly as he reloads his weapon.

The hangar is theirs. All remaining insurgents located inside their entry point, namely this particular hangar, are already dispatched by the others. Hobbling over spilt intestines and burnt pieces of organic matter, Mox clicks his wrist-button again, thereby initiating his flying apparatus. He hovers in front of the gate's control panel and after a combination of button-presses performed on it, the gate snaps open, and he flies directly into the repair bay – what he witnesses there, surprises him greatly.

Insurgents, GADF troopers and NIO soldiers are in the middle of a full-blown engagement – he barely manages to escape the avalanche of laser coming from an imperial platoon by ducking down and flying behind a makeshift pile of mechanical waste – a cover that is swiftly withering away by the layers upon layers of fire being showered on it by the enemy.

– Hogs! This is bad! Take extra care! – He reports, and out the corner of his immensely keen eye, notices a distinct, strict commander dishing out orders to a squad of unquestionably capable specialists ( Hal Vaiken ). Although the whole situation looks like a mess, a couple of the imperials stand out from the other deployed soldiers. One is wielding a lightsaber, another is decimating rows of GADF troopers single-handedly; but all of them appear extremely dangerous. – Okay need to go under for this one! Report soon! Mox out! – That, is his last message for his crew for now.

Leaning into the advantage provided by his small stature, he decides to do what he does best. He takes a quick look around, immediately noticing a maintenance hatch on the floor that likely opens into a station-spanning network of ducts. He slides next to it, still relatively far away from the thick of the firefight and in partial cover, and after a short barrage from his Baleful Bantha the hatch is promptly torn open. Not much is needed for him to fit through – which he quickly does. Slipping through the still hot opening, he finds himself in dimly lit corridors more than spacious enough for him to stand up straight – just as he imagined. The sounds of the ongoing battle above are now muffled, making for an eerie sense of kenopsia. He wastes no time rushing forward along the vent shaft, peeking through the occasional grates above him to assess his position. – I must be close. – He mumbles, still bouncing along the only path laid out before him. Slowed down by section barriers, he hacks through each of them, quickly expanding his set of virtual security keys to the station.

And then, he stops. Busy feet are banging on the metal floor just above him. Quite possibly behind enemy lines, he believes he must be roughly where the commander from before is. Above him, the grate has already been blown open, likely by a grenade or other projectile. A perfect way in to see his ambush through. Sounds of the battle echo along the barren ducts Mox is in, and a bright ray of artificial light blares through the opening above. He kneels down, and prepares. He coats his stilettos in emetic poison, reloads his rifle, and counts his remaining smoke grenades – of which there are three, currently. All is set. He stands up, readies his miniature rifle in one hand, while arming a smoke grenade in the other. Tick… Tick… Tick… Tick…

He reaches up through the opening and carefully places the grenade on the ground above him.
​

>POOF!<​

A glorious mushroom cloud of dense smoke erupts from the grenade as it spins on the floor and continues to coat a considerable section of the repair bay in vision-inhibiting gas. Fully aware of the reckless nature of this improvised plan and quite frankly terrified of the possible outcome, the brave Anzellan nonetheless goes through with his plan and blasts out from under the floor and flies toward the ceiling, rotating along his axis, simultaneously showering his surroundings with white-hot plasma. As soon as he nears the ceiling, he flips upside-down and with his magnetic boots clamps onto the metal surface as he often does, continuing his disruptive, almost robotic sequence of actions. Step. Shoot. Step. Shoot.

Above the cloud of smoke, the upside-down Anzellan backpedals, shoots, reloads, while trying to focus fire at the commander, whose current location he does not know and can only guess at. 'Probably somewhere over there.' Is the thought that runs through his mind as he alternates between visible and obscured targets, the latter of whose positions he only has vague ideas of.
​

Step. Shoot. Reload.​

 

[Rika Hiro]

Asa Yubari|Kuat|The End
C O M P N O R
Tags:// Don Belkora Jordi Massad Iseri Tanaka Spirit of Judgement Ishida Ashina Kolson Vrask Karissa Saitel Jordi Massad Douge Johnson Sol Stazi

Shut it down was her superiors words, short and sharp, straight to the point.

And so the replicant obliged Belkoras request. Then, almost automatically, she moved at a frighteningly fast pace, moving lithely through the heaving crowds; cries of protest and annoyance fell on flat ears as Yubari moved in like a shark drawn to blood. Her fingers unclipped the clasps of her briefcase, her other free hand ready to whip the submachine gun blaster out once in range. Elane was not to survive, nor any of her aides, and bodyguards were expected casualties, civilians an accepted possibility. As long as the target died, thousands of civilians could die if the agency's goals were secure. A couple more meters, and she'd be within range.

The crowd grew thicker and denser as she got in range of Elane, whose electrifyingly patriotic speech stirred the crowd into a frenzy that reverberated throughout the area. A ring of guards separated Asa and the mob from the iron lady, a thin little red line of rebels and droids, ever so vigilant yet so fragile. It wouldn't stop her, and it wouldn't stop the rest of them. Her gaze fell on the civilians in front of her; only a few rebels stood at this part of the line, easy to breach if enough of the crowd surged forward.

Humans made such easy prey, like frightened sheep they'd herd together at the sound of a shot, and that's all it'd take to give her a line of sight on the woman. Asa's cold face gave way to a sly smirk as she unclasped the briefcase fully and slid the gun out, pointing it above her head and firing. The shots broke the atmosphere of jubilation, and then the herd mentality and panic of the crowd kicked in, with many surging forward to escape the shooting and pushing past the beleaguered rebel guards. Asa stepped forward, grabbing the collar of a nearby worker and using him to make through the crowd and right into the sight of Elane.

And then she opened fire. ​

 

[Phaineve Halseigh]

[Rebel Alliance]
[Aboard the Shipyards]
[Warhogs: Traden Avarice , Monos , Keiran Varn , Zav Traros ]
[Imperial Opposition: Hal Vaiken , Volgin Alto , Lily Stevens , Atticus Draco , And Whomever I missed]​

---

She couldn't help the wild grin locked to her face. Nor could Phaineve help the feeling of fear she had as she crept past the lines of piping, the elaborate strings of insulation tubing and wirework leading into the sides of the crawlspace. If her parents caught wind of her sneaking around the shipyard, there'd be hell to pay. "What have we told you, Phaineve?" they'd ask. "You're already fifteen, why must you act like such a child? they'd complain and complain. 'But...' her mischievous grin returned; after all, you were never too old to have fun. They'd always made a point of encouraging her to follow her heart-- and, well, her heart was set on that cruiser.

---

Like agonized screams, the sounds of blaster bolts whizzed overhead, the projectiles whose motion bore those all-too-familiar sounds colliding with metal and flesh alike. And those too produced their own screams. For the corridor leading into the repair bay had warped into a sickening slaughter-house-- every ounce of Imperial meat the Rebel and Galactic Alliance forces collected came at the cost of one of their own. The pattern had become known to her so quickly Phaineve hadn't bothered to look into whatever started the grueling firefight.

Her eyes remained ahead; her body remained hidden behind the reinforced armor plating of half-extended blast door; her pistol never ceased its dance between encroaching targets-- until now. She ducked again behind the makeshift piece of cover, clutching her forearms around her ears as the Warhogs' tank hurled a metal slug down the width of the hallway, the whole section shuddering as the projectile sent a shockwave through the repair bay. While the bout of confusion and disorientation began to clear, the pilot-turned-foot-solider opted to make her next move. Phaineve swung about the edge of the blast door housing, sliding against the ground and ducking underneath the metal joints of a large crane. A wave of fond nostalgia hit her; she'd snuck around the Corellian shipyards in the same manner as a teenager.

She wished she could dwell further, but the sound of a volley of blaster fire tearing a wound in a section of durasteel plating served as a disorienting reminder of the battle just in front of her. Right right. Objective... There was a lonely, docked frigate with the Warhogs' name on it. Now how to reach it...? Hesitantly, she craned her neck, peering a measly distance over the boxy base of the repair crane. Eyes widened in fear as a figure leapt from a scaffold structure, bathed in the unsettling glow of a lightsaber blade-- and it wasn't Keiran, or Traden. The figure descended amidst wild suppressive fire, and sliced clean through the marines who'd been unfortunate enough to find themselves at the vanguard of the Alliance force.

Then, a distinct click; at the center of the repair bay emerged an ominous cloud of fuming grey, an expanding cloud of smoke taking the section under its thick shadow. Amidst the fog, above confused streams of blaster fire, the fiery tail of a jetpack painted faint circles in the darkness. Blaster fire shot out from the source of the flying figure. Mox... It had to be; she'd grown to recognize the distinctly shaped jetpack and miniscule figure. You mad genius...

"[Alright. This is Ladybird: I'm moving in toward the target frigate. Good luck out here,]" she alerted the others over the Warhogs' encrypted channel, "[Mox, get ready to lock on my signal. Going to want a hand with this.]"

And with that, she discharged a pair of shots from her blaster into the smoke and disarray, gliding close to the floors and slipping behind a stack of fuming crates. She quickly felt the touch of metal grates, and an excited smirk came to Phaineve's face-- a crawlspace access hatch. If the shipyards were anything like Corellia's, she could crawl through the maintenance tunnels until surfacing in good proximity to a docking bridge. And, assuming there weren't still Imperials crawling around, the rest would be easy to implement.

Another friendly wave of nostalgia washed over as she delicately pried open the hatch, and descended into the dim crawlspace...

---

Phaineve sent a long, scanning glance into the corridor around her, still just barely propping up the maintenance hatch with a pair of gloved hands. She could see the reinforced frame of the docking terminal glistening from down the hallway-- practically begging for her to prance on through it and catch a glimpse of the starship being assembled just outside. Now if only she could so easily make her way into the terminal. To Phaineve's crushing dismay, the shipbuilders ran amok in the corridor, exchanging places between the docking link and the adjacent hallway. And... She gulped. In the flurry of motion, she recognized the supervisor, a tall figure clad in a long brown coat, tools mounted around a well-worn equipment belt. It was her mother, and she was staring directly at Phaineve, an obvious scowl on her face. Nervously, the girl lifted the hatch all the way and stood up, head hung in defeat.

Whoops...

 

[Sylix]

SITREP: FUBAR
Objective II
Outside the Kuat System, Operational Oversight Centre

"Sir, Eclipse Team has made landfall. They've encountered Imperials, sir, and are requesting permission to engage," came the voice of an officer.

A measure of competence was planetside, then. Not that the GADF's army regiments lacked effectiveness—despite the lack of deployments during the Sith War more recent events had shaped them into a useful group—but they fell short in most metrics when compared to the Pathfinders. And then there was the matter of direct

"Give them the go-ahead. Tell them to collect some trophies as evidence. Let them know we have backup ready for deployment, should they need it."

"Right away, sir," the officer replied, then began relaying orders.

Sylix turned his attention back to the Comms Officer. The TacMap showed Alliance Forces repositioning for a strategic edge. It seemed Liedran was pulling one of her manoeuvres against the ship threatening Pryce's Corellian line. He watched with what attention he could spare as the Officer updated him on the Ashlan's response.

"I won't bother arguing legalities with you while my men and women are dying out there. If you didn't notice there is a New Imperial Fleet, a foreign invasion force, that is currently assaulting, firing upon, and destroying Alliance ships, your allies, and causing the death of Alliance naval personell inside Alliance space in plain view of your forces. If this doesn't qualify as an existential threat then I don't know what does in your book," he barked.

Readouts showed firefights inside the Kuat Drive Yard Ring had broken out. GADF Army and Navy presence was engaging stormtroopers who'd made it onto the ring and were currently suspected of sabotage of some sort, but data was inconclusive. Nor was it conclusive who fired first.

"What I am aware of is you have jumped a significant military presence, unannounced, into an ongoing, highly sensitive military operation with dubious-at-best justifications and are currently refusing to aid an ally under attack by a foreign invasion force. If I didn't know any better I'd suspect you of collusion with the New Imperials and intent of theft of military hardware, but fortunately for you the Alliance places more trust in its allies than the New Imperials ever did."

He was careful not to yell, but the sternness in his voice carried through with the weight of the quickly deteriorating military situation. There were reserve forces that could be drawn upon, raising the chances of an ultimately victorious resolution of the conflict for the Alliance, but the difference would be made in the number of lives and resources spent. The variance between a pyrrhic and a decisive victory could determine the outcome of dozens of battles on the Brotherhood front, not to mention whatever new frontline spawned from this disaster.

"If you don't intend to assist your allies, then jump out of the system until the military conflict is resolved and preserve your neutrality, or do what's right and help save some force-forsaken lives!"

His attention turned away again. He'd spent too much time on unnecessary rhetoric in his response. That cost seconds. Seconds he could have spent managing the inflow of combat data and discerning the next strategic moves for their forces.

Isla Draellix-Kobitana Dracken Pryce Liedran Kathause Sol Stazi

​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Location: Kuat​

Valery: Appearance​

Ship: Factory Link!​

Tag: Iris Arani Briana Sal-Soren Liedran Kathause Dracken Pryce Hiram Voss ​

​

"Master Noble," Pryce said, his voice filled with relief. "I'm not sure what happened but it looks like the Imps are trying to take Kuat by force. We didn't get any jamming up and with how that traitor Loghain has been collaborating with them I'm sure a relief fleet is on the way. Before they get here I need that battlecruiser down." He tapped a few buttons on the tactical datapads attached to his command chair and swiped the data to the Jedi Master. It was a new ship, one that Pryce hadn't seen before but the initial telemetry for the vessel told him enough to highlight potential weak spots.

"We'll try and soften him up for you," He waved his finger at one of the weapons officers. Lieutenant Cane was a good lad and the gunners in his ion cannon batteries were crack shots. "And I won't send you alone. I'm diverting a few gunships and a bomber squadron." After the weapons officer plopped down in his seat he began typing away commands for his heavy ion cannon crews. Moments later the massive guns fired on the enemy battlecruiser.

Valery's gaze dropped down to her instruments as data on the enemy battlecruiser was coming through. Potential weak spots were highlighted but it was still going to take a lot of firepower to bring it down. "Understood, Admiral," Valery said in acknowledgment as the battlecruiser became a marked target between her and her Padawans.​

​

"We'll cover those bombers and gunships to their target, and hit it hard. Master Noble out."​

​

Without further delay, Valery accelerated rather abruptly but she knew her two Padawans were right there with her, in tight formation until they grouped up with the Alliance gunships and bombers. They were likely going to be targetted by enemy fighters soon enough, but with Jedi and gunships working together, the Imperials were going to be met with quite the challenge.​

​

<T> "Briana, Iris, you heard the Admiral — cover those bombers and save your proton torpedoes or shadow bombs. We're going to need the heavy ordnance for the battlecruiser."​

​

That was all they needed to know verbally. The Jedi now had a clear objective to pursue, so as long as their Meld remained, the fighting itself was going to be coordinated through the Force. And as expected, the first swarm of imperial fighters was already coming for them.​

​

Still in formation, Valery targetted the lead ships and blasted one apart with a quick salvo of heavy cannon fire, before the others passed by rapidly. They were now in the middle of a large dogfight, with the enemy fighters prioritizing the bombers in an attempt to defend their larger vessels, while Alliance gunships attempted to stop them.​

​

<T> "Take down those fighters!"​

​

 

[Kelinna Tryn]

R E A P E R
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
KDY | KUAT
SCAR SQUADRON: Hal Vaiken | Volgin Alto | Atticus Draco | NIO
WAR HOGS: Traden Avarice | Monos | Phaineve Halseigh | Zav Traros | Keiran Varn | @WHOAMIMISSING?
ENGAGING: One of you Hogs better try and stop this sniper.

GEAR: Modified Armour | Sniper rifle | Pistol | Rifle | Vibroblade | Vibroknife | Grenade loadout

THE MARCH​

What was it all for?

Former allies coming to blows over a few pieces of metal and some people that didn't want to conform to any one way any longer? Was it even worth it? Surviving the shit the Sith threw at them all, only to mow one another down now over far less.

Don't lose what's in your heart, Lilibet...

Her daddy's words echoed through her mind as she planted a slug in one last GADF helmet before she and Sarge headed over to regroup with the platoon in front of their final obstacle.

But good soldiers follow orders, right?

While the Lieutenant gave the Sitrep to Sarge, Lily only listened with half an ear as she watched in near horror, nose scrunched up behind her helmet, as Mauler slammed a marine repeatedly against the wall. She never could get quite used to the sheer brutality of war. Even though it was necessary sometimes, it still made her sick to her stomach.

"Mauler! Think you're finished? Get this damn gate open."

Oh thank goodness.

The order shook her out of her reverie, so while Mauler sorted out the door, she checked the ammo on her firearms - just in case. No use having an "Oh shit" moment in the middle of a firefight. Then you might as well be pushing up daisies right now.

As Mauler was about to blow the door, she swung the service rifle forward, ready to spray and pray whatever came through that door. But they were met with blasterfire all the same for 2.5 seconds, a few bolts shying away from her modified armour, before an order to hold fire rang out above the din.
"Smartasses." she grumbled sarcastically before following the group inside to end up behind the haphazard redoubt. Ducking down onto her haunches, she listened to the exchange between her CO and Lieutenant Obrim, readying herself mentally for the next curveball.

And that curveball wasn't pretty.

Throwing the local boys to the wolves. Sending in Mauler with the repeater to mow down left and right, friend and foe alike. Her heart was bleeding on the inside because of it all. But she had learned quite a few years ago how to hide the emotions that continuously threatened to bubble to the surface.

They got their orders, which she accepted with a nod. It was easy enough, provided she got a moment to make the shot. It wasn't as if the target was as big as a bloody rancor. But she would make do.

She was just about to make a dash for it to follow the rest of the boys, when Sarge grabbed her arm.

"Make that shot count, Lily."

The Razorback's screams rang in her ears once more. Never again. Never again would she make that mistake. She hadn't made that mistake since joining the Corps all those years ago - when shit was at its worst. Fear of those screams kept her shots clean and true.

"I don't miss, Hal." came the deadpan reply.

And then she followed behind the big guy's lead.

 

[Gillan Eru]

O B J E C T I V E- 2
K U A T -D R I V E- Y A R D S
Zoraya Ives-Ayres | Mattali Omenza ​

Gillan had only been in a handful of situations he had considered life or death scenarios. But in a galaxy at war and as hostile as their own, that wasn't exactly much. An average stormtrooper had probably gone through more than him, a Jedi Padawan dreaming to become an esteemed librarian.

But he had faced death. And from each risky encounter, Gillan grew. Learned not to tense up and freeze. What to prioritize, and what to follow. That was why, when the woman clad in stormtrooper armor stepped away from the panel she tampered with, Gillan intuitively reached for the Force.

The blastdoor slammed shut behind him. Immediately after, the thin slits of the ventilation grate began to violently suck the air out of their compartment. Gillan threw out his hands. The barricade made by the alliance troopers consisted of loose shrapnel, wall-plating and crates. The Force grabbed hold of what Gillan could muster, and with swipe of his arms, he hurled the shrapnel at the grates. It plugged the grate, predominantly because of the pressure difference. And with the ventilation plugged, his oxygen was preserved.

"Yeah. Smells like my victory." And yet, the air was thin. Shallow breaths were all he could rely on. A battle of endurance was not going to be in his favor - that much was made obvious. It meant that he had to take the offensive.

Gillan burst into motion, rushing forward in an attempt to cross the distance between him and the engineer in an instant. She was still drawing her weapon. The other was occupied with barking others. Occupied enough perhaps, to give him the chance to blitz them both.

Swift and efficiently, Gillan's blade moved in an upward arc from his low guard as he came within the engineer's reach. He aimed to cut through her weapon, extending just a little to cut off her escape. If he could take her out prematurely, than perhaps he still had a shot at staying in control of the situation.

 

[Mattali Omenza]

Objective 2

Location: Kuat Central Space Traffic Systems
Gear:
Storm Armor Mk. IV
REC Scatter Gun
REC-DC/04 Particle Blaster Pistol

Tags: Zoraya Ives-Ayres Gillan Eru

You know those times when time sorta freezes, and you have a solid minute to reconsider your life choices? Yea, Mirinda was experincing that right now. Watching the jedi race towards her, blade burning through the thin air of the corridor, she began to wonder why she left her life of crime behind. To be fair, she never really stopped it, more like reshuffled it into a different career, but still, it was a moment of consideration. Entirely shattered by the searing heat the burst through her chest.

Mirinda fell backwards, a startled scream echoing from her helmet as she lost her grip on her weapon, the scattergun moving towards the jedi, and being bisected by the blade in the process. She continued her fall, as the blade's edge reached her, and cut through the first layer of her armor. The pain was immense, and it hadn't even struck her full on. Hitting the ground, air began to hiss out of the opening, a molten gash formed across the surface of her breastplate, and she panicked. She backed herself up against the door, crawling backwards and away from the man with the deathstick; her mind fueled by fear, and the desire to not die. She couldn't tell if she was hit, or merely grazed, and truth be told she didn't care. The underlayer of her suit might have saved her, but she wasn't sure. She could see the glowing remains of her weapon laying on the floor before her, and that was all that she needed to know she was done.

She fumbled for her blaster pistol, and fired wildly at the jedi before her. "GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

Needless to say, she wasn't taking this well at all.

 

[Bernard]

KUAT | KUAT CITY | CROWDS
Objective III


NIO: Rika Hiro Kolson Vrask Jordi Massad Karissa Saitel
GA: Ishida Ashina
REBELS: CH3

Something about the speed with which the Navy had mustered a combat-ready fleet had been suspicious. As though they'd known in advance and siphoned off troops from the front for this exact purpose. The GADF will have its reasons for sending us out in force. I suspect the SIA knows more than they're letting on, too...—he'd replied to Ishida's questions after the meeting, when they'd had the chance to exchange a few words in private.

Those suspicions had found further basis when the presence of a New Imperial Fleet had been confirmed in-system after they'd set down on Kuat. Every now and then, when their acrobatic trip over Kuat's roofs didn't require his immediate attention on an obstacle, he'd glance at the skies to watch the miniscule shapes of fleets around the Ring of Kuat in the skies above. He swore he could make out lines of fire there, among the stars.

They arrived at the edge of the square where the former Queen of Kuat held her speech, and Bernard slid to a halt next to Ishida. The crowd below had become sizeable and only continued to grow as more and more listeners trickled in from the small alleys and streets. In the crowd, a trail of yells and protests, in particular, drew his attention. They marked the path of someone pushing their way directly towards the stage, where the Queen stood. The crowd obscured details, but the rush this pusher was in had to be an ill omen on its own.

“Something’s wrong.”

"Do you feel it?"

"Yeah. I have a bad feeling about that in particular," he pointed towards the person pushing their way through the crowd.

As he watched the person draw closer and closer to the stage, a strong rush of apprehension overcame him. The metaphysical warning rushed up his spine. At the same time, the person finally came to a stop in the middle of a dense mass of Kuati revolutionaries. A briefcase appeared, and a shot was fired. The people dispersed explosively, leaving the person, a woman in civilian attire, behind with a gun pointed right at the Queen. Without missing a beat, the woman fired.

Bernard's hand shot out, channelling the Force, to stop the bolts. Crackling red lines that arced with ferocious, deadly energy froze mid-flight. The first few shots stopped in the air right before the podium.

 

[Traden Avarice]

II: SITREP: FUBAR (SHIPYARD)
OBJECTIVE: STEAL AN NIO FRIGATE FOR COVERT USE BY REBELS
​

Location: Hangar
Attire: Standard
Loadout: The Harbinger, (New) Lightsaber, Mr. Cuddles
SCAR Squad: Hal Vaiken Volgin Alto Lily Stevens Atticus Draco
War Hogs: Monos Keiran Varn Phaineve Halseigh Zav Traros
Primary Tags: Keiran Varn @ Atticus Draco


The blue saber streaked through the air as the Rebel Master leapt off Mr. Cuddles and landed on top of an NIO craft. Traden ran with inhuman speed along the top of the vessel until he reached the end, flipping his legs over his body as he pushed off the craft and descended down into the midst of a squad of Troopers. His feet hit the ground in the midst of the five squad members, causing them to quickly turn in surprise,

"Jedi!" One yelled out as he pointed a heavy repeater in Traden's direction, the others quickly following suit.

"Gentlemen." Traden bowed rather casually and tipped an imaginary hat. He then kicked the blaster out of the one's hands as his saber swept behind him, striking the chest armor of another. Blaster fire erupted all around him as he leapt upwards using the momentum of his kick, causing some of the troopers fire to strike their comrade who yelped in pain as he stumbled to the floor. Traden brought his saber in towards his chest and then struck outwards as he came back towards the ground, finding its mark as it severed through the chest of a trooper. He pulled the blade form its target as he landed behind the traumatized trooper, outstretching his hands as he used the force to fling the crippled body into his companion. As the three remaining troopers quickly turned to his new position and raised their weapons, the master lifted the Harbinger and cast it in a sweeping motion across all three, releasing a deadly flurry of explosive munitions.

BBRA BBRA BBRA BBRA BBRA!

All three were sent spiraling backwards as the explosions ripped through their armor and decimated their forms, resulting in their lifeless bodies scattering and sliding across the floor.

Traden, breathing heavily, lowered his weapon and locked it back onto his armor. His eyes shifted down towards the young marines who had been on the verge of brutal execution by the NIO squad, sprawled out on the ground with their arms covering their heads in fear, a soft whimpering escaping their shaking bodies. They must have been fresh from the academy. Traden dropped slowly to his knees, his eyes still surveying any possible threats around them while he rested a reassuring hand on one of their shoulders,

"You're alright, soldier. You're alright. Get up…" the soldiers slowly looked up from their shaking arms, finally picking themselves up off the ground, their eyes wide from fear. "You got cut off from your platoon…" Traden remarked critically with the tone reminiscent of a concerned father, "Never let that happen again, you understand?" They nodded frantically. "Now get back to your commanding officer. Go!" Traden pushed them in the direction of the GADF lines as another wave of NIO troopers came rushing into the fray.

The young marines ran quickly back to the safety of their Platoon line as Traden drew the fire of the incoming enemy forces, quickly moving behind some cover so as to not get overwhelmed by enemy fire. "Mr. Cuddles! On my position! Light 'em up!" He barked over comms as the crates around him started to rip apart with a steady follow of blaster fire.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Traden peaked around the crates as the enemy fire stopped, their focus now shifting to the massive tank bearing down on them as they all scattered for cover.

"Stay and help the Marines! I'm going to move onto the objective with everyone else!" Traden ordered.

"Yep yep! Do your thing. Don't worry about me." B.O.B. commented casually as he fired a cannon round that ripped through an enemy frigate parked in the shipyard, creating a detonation as the vessel shredded apart in a massive explosion caused by the fuel pods igniting.

"Woooooohoooooo! Oh I've missed this…. Can we go back to the GADF?"

"No can do I'm afraid… and… try not to enjoy it too much." Traden shook his head and chuckled at the trigger happy A.I..

The marines cheered at the assistance they were receiving from Mr. Cuddles, and in the chaos, Traden snuck around the rear wall behind the enemy troops position and followed the other Warhogs into the hallway that led towards the repair bay.

Keiran Varn said:

"HOLD THE LINE!" Keiran screamed out as their opponents got closer and closer, war cries loud and proud.

A sense of deep pride filled the master as he observed Keiran Varn providing leadership to the faltering Marines, holding them steady and galvanizing them against the enemies brutal melee charge. As he neared the fray that was in full swing inside the repair bay, he sensed a presence. It was beckoning him and his apprentice into confrontation. He slowed, shifting his face and looked across the sea of faces until he observed the culprit… He was already advancing beyond his forces lines and towards the marines in open defiance of his own safety, his brilliant ivory saber reflecting bolts of energy back into the ranks of the marines. The Force Master shook his head at the sheer level of recklessness of the enemy… it would surely provide them an advantage.

Keiran Varn said:

"Master, we've got company. And I'm not talking about the Patriots or the 501st."

Traden was now striding up to his padawan's side as he rested a firm hand on Keiran's shoulder, making him aware of his presence. "Be careful, Keiran. He is reckless. We can use that to our advantage. I will let you take point in this fight and I will follow your lead… Focus… you've got this…"

Traden formed up beside Keiran, entering into his defensive stance with the saber outstretched in front if him, ready to support his Padawan. Traden believed in trial by fire… that what didn't kill you made you stronger. He had seen incredible growth in Keiran, and this would be a truly formative experience for his young Padawan and allow for him to discover what he was capable of... and to feel the full weight of danger in a deadly duel. And he would be there, to support and to strengthen. He would not let anything happen to Keiran and would step in fully if the need arose.

 

[Zoraya Ives-Ayres]

COMPNOR
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
Objective: I love Jedi
Allies: NIO | Mattali Omenza
Enemies: GA | Gillan Eru
Equipment: E-11 Blaster Rifle with Grappling Hook attachment, SE-14r Light Repeating Blaster, Vibroknife, Thermal Detonator, KXA ABDG-01x 'Null' Grenade, Wrist-mounted Personal Energy Shield, Commlink, IS-2 Medium Armour

Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled.
​

Were they really going to stand there and hurl lacklustre claims of victory towards each other?

With the engineer reacting first, Zoraya remained where she was and offered suppressive cover fire for her ally, at least until the pair became too close and she risked hitting the Zeltron. Not that she would have personally minded, but she knew that wilfully killing an ally might not be seen upon too favourably by whomever may bear witness to her HUD's recording of the events that were unfolding.

Her hope of quickly ending the fight before it began faltered and she lowered her weapons with a frustrated sigh as her ally was quickly cut down, with her weapon now a molten shell on the floor.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." She lamented, showing no real urgency to take out the Jedi.

Raising her weapons again and activating her wrist-mounted shield on her left wrist, she fired a round towards him in rapid succession, careful not to get caught by any deflected bolts as she approached the pair.

Jedi could be annoyingly unpredictable at times and the Force was always a concern with little protection from its effects. The lightsabers were an issue too. Still, if she acted swiftly then she hoped to nullify the problem before it even began.

Once close enough, she switched her blaster for a vibroknife in her hand without the shield attached and closed the distance between them at a greater speed, ready to parry any lightsaber strike with the shield while striking out at him with the blade in the opposite hand.

 

[Melvain Braxis]

SITREP: FUBAR
Objective 2 [Space & Shipyards]​

Attacking: Liedran Kathause
Enemies: Isla Draellix-Kobitana | Valery Noble | Iris Arani | Kathryn Foster | Briana Sal-Soren
Allies: Orys Draste | Hiram Voss

STRIKING IRON

​

"Is this wise, Knight Regent?"

Melvain turned to look at his Lord General, Robert Dris. The man was much older than he and the veteran of three wars and half a dozen conflicts. The man who taught him how to fly and the man who kept his people safe while he was off galavanting across Sith Imperial space as a "knight". Even know he wore their white armor, lightsabers strapped to his utility belt. Melvain turned to look at the blur of hyperspace and gritted his teeth. Compared to the likes of the Dominion of Niruan, Presfbelt Command, or even the Galidraani, Feriae Junction was a no-name dominion and he was a no-name minor warlord. That ended today.

"It might not be wise, but it will show the Empire that we too can serve." Robert harumphed and turned on his well-polished heel to check on his men, his red cape billowing behind him. Melvain pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. He loved the old man, but he was still wary of the Empire, despite eight strong years of growth and security. Even more so since the High Knight Marshal took hold of the Empire in his iron grip.

"We are approaching Kuat Egress Point 9." Said one of the bridge officers.

"Ease us out then Lieutenant, we don't want to be crashing into any friendly vessels. The fighting's likely already begun."

And begun it had. As the Crimson Command dropped out of hyperspace the chaos of war rushed to meet him. Almost immediately the bridge was inundated with status reports, com traffic, and warning sirens. His eyes bulged at the two massive behemoths slugging it out against one another. The Presfbelt fleet seemed to be holding its own for now but looking at the tactical was outnumbered and outgunned. Lucky for them he had taken the long way around and now was in the perfect place for a flank attack.

"Launch the fighters," he said. The red star destroyer lurked beneath the second formation of Alliance vessels. Slowly the single vessel turned to two, then three and on. All together four red star destroyers entered to level the playing field along with a small handful of corvettes.

"Open fire with ion cannons! Follow up with a volley from the turbolasers." The Crimson Command rumbled as the ionic energy was thrown up into the belly of the Alliance beasts. Strange to think a few years ago he was fighting alongside these people. But it didn't matter. Kuat had chosen a side and by the Emperor's Will, they would join the New Imperial Order.

​

Spoiler: Crimson Command

• Crimson Command​
• Anagonye​
• Libertalia​
• Whetstone​
• Defiance​
• Vandal-Class Corvettes​

 

[CH3]

REBEL RISING
ELANE OF KUAT RALLY - KUAT CITY

Feat. Spirit of Judgement as ‘Elane of Kuat’ | Bernard | Ishida Ashina | Sol Stazi | RA-GA
Karissa Saitel | Rika Hiro | Jordi Massad | Kolson Vrask | Don Belkora | Nuruodo'kal'brast | Douge Johnson | NIO

Shots rang out throw the square, bringing Elane of Kuat’s rally to an abrupt end. Panicked supporters fled as Jedi protectors dispatched by the Galactic Alliance swung into action to protect the claimant to the throne. Rebel Alliance operatives, operating outside the legal framework of the GA, quickly dispensed into the crowd. While their goal was the same as the GA, the Rebels preferred to work in the shadows and fringes, free of the bureaucracy and rules that hamstrung the defenders of the Core.

Whether that was fact or not would be up for debate was CH3 sentient, but as it was not, the matter was moot. Following programming was much simpler than debating morality and politics.

CH3 withdrew its weapon from the camtono and discarded the storage vessel. A flick of its wrist snapped the folding buttstock of the blaster carbine into position. The support from the attachment was inconsequential for aiming - the servomotors in the droid's arms would adjust automatically while firing to compensate for recoil or drift. Rather, the extra length of duraplast made a useful bludgeon when the engagement range shrunk.

Whoever had fired on Elane was an enemy of the Kuati people and the Galactic Alliance. Worst still, they were acting in opposition to CH3’s programming. They would need to be terminated.

The worker droid's powerful pneumatic leg blew the front door of the building off its hingers and sent splinters flying. CH3 entered the first room with its weapon at the high and ready as its scanned for targets using optic, aural and onboard sensors. The room-clearing sequence was largely redundant, a relic of its programmer - CH3 had determined the room was clear in the time it took a slow-moving sentient to blink. The droid crossed the room and headed up the staircase to the upper level. Statistically the sniper would be operating from an elevated position.

“You have three seconds to surrender,” CH3 ordered as it approached the only closed door on the upper level, whose position correlated with its previous detection of a sensor void. “Or face decommissioning.”

 

[Karissa Saitel]

https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/916099948024565781/929705073519493140/Kuat_3.jpg

OBJECTIVE: PEACEWALKER
CODENAME: SHIV
IMPERIAL SECURITY BUREAU
EQUIPMENT: SBG-01x Bodyglove | civilian clothes | ACS-208 Wrist Ion Beamer |
BH-Specter Slicer Vibroknife | BH-Durin Charric Blaster Pistol

NIO | Jordi Massad | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Kolson Vrask
RA/GA | CH3 | IVI | Bernard | Ishida Ashina

​

Agent Saitel slipped deftly through the tense crowd, her eyes fixed on the suspect worker droid. Around her, the rally felt as if it were on a hair trigger. Aside from the obvious fervor of the former Queen's supporters, there were the proxy agents, the NIO, the GA, rebels all lurking, hiding in plain sight. It was a thermal detonator about to blow.

Then, she heard the hot cough of an automatic blaster and, a breath later, chaos ensued. Karissa knew who pulled that trigger, Agent Yubari. But Karissa had no time, or line of sight, to see if the target had been struck. She had to keep her focus on that one-eyed droid.

The droid revealed its blaster, no longer concealing its purpose. The droids' intent became clear when it altered course and worked its way towards the building in which Grunge was positioned. It must have detected something that gave the IMPMAG team away. Karssa hastened her pursuit, now pushing her way through the mad throng to keep up with the droid.

<Grunge, suspect droid armed and entering your location.> She spoke into her comm over the din of the panicked crowd. She watched the mechanical rebel smash open the door and enter the building. Following, Karissa slid up her sleeve and activated the ion beamer on her left wrist, then drew her charric pistol.

Carefully, she crept up the staircase to towards the upper level, hearing the metallic voice of the droid and its demands. She eased herself to the top of the stairs, prepared to turn the corner, ion beamer on her wrist raised, the safety on the blaster silently switched off.

 

[Atticus Draco]

INSIDE THE SHIPYARDS
KNIGHT-COLONEL | 501st ATTACHE
IMP.KNIGHT PATTERN ARMOUR | LIGHTSABERS
SCAR SQUADRON: Hal Vaiken Volgin Alto Lily Stevens
WAR HOGS: Traden Avarice Keiran Varn Monos Zav Traros Phaineve Halseigh

He would be answered.

Draco felt his heart racing, thumping intensely against the interior of his ribcage as the chaos raged. He dialed his senses back, only taking account of his immediate proximity and the source of his ire; the Jedi. Chewing at the edges of his mind was the loss of life, the pained gasps, the begging for continued life. As he drew inwards, the nagging faded, but as his head rotated, he could still see it occurring. Fallen soldiers dragged into cover to be attended to before being abandoned when the realization set in they were far too wounded to be saved with a sole bacta patch.

Yet, he felt none of it.

As the Jedi's attention settled on him, Draco could feel their recognition in the Force. He was close enough to see them now, and his lips formed into a thin line as he reached out.

Through the metaphysical network that linked their mortal coils with the physical plane, he tugged on the strands of Keiran Varn 's very existence. In an effort to wrench him from his feet unexpectedly and to pull him dangerously close. Dashing forward, the Young Knight moved to meet his form with murderous intent. On his periphery, he kept the clearly Senior Jedi in mind.

He leapt up, and whether the Padawan was still in the air or not, Atticus moved to meet him while he left his feet. The elongated hilt of his saber stabbed outwards on a course to impale them through the torso.

 

[Sol'yan]

OBJECTIVE: II - Sitrep: FUBAR
LOCATION: KDY Orbital Ring
TAG: Liedran Kathause Finley Dawson Ara Sheridan OPEN

After briefing his squad of Silver Jedi Rangers, Sol’yan proceeded from the GA cordon deeper into the station to find the civilians trapped within. At first, the Jedi’s senses reached out to ascertain why exactly the word ‘trapped’ was accurate here, but it did not take long to see that for himself. As they gained distance from the cordon itself, they could hear the sounds of blaster fire, and could see for themselves corpses of masked men and peace officers alike. Sol’yan’s lightsaber found its way into his waiting palm, with a sensation washing over him refined to a knife’s edge of awareness over the century plus of his existence. The deep purple blade ignited with a deep, resounding hum; and his body spun about as if directed by an unseen force. A blaster bolt caught itself within the nearly five-foot long blade, with those around him quickly scrambling into cover as a flurry of blaster fire followed after the single, unsuccessful shot.
The Jedi Master’s saber blade moved about with a deft quickness akin to a ceremonial dancer twirling flaming torches about their body, with flashes of purple blurring his form amidst the impact flashes of the super-heated plasma bolts. Every third or so blaster bolt would return to the same direction from whence it came, resulting in a muffled ‘URGHHG’ and a body flying from its perch to hit the durasteel floor. The SJC team quickly returned fire to try and cover the Jedi Master as he slowly made his way to the source of the blaster fire. At first, the ambushers only intensified their efforts, but as the Feeorin Jedi grew closer and closer to their position, the fire started to fade. Yet, any thoughts of running would have been futile. As the barrage lessened in intensity, Sol’yan reached out with his left hand and pulled a massive grating from above them down with a violent metallic screech. The corrugated durasteel grating crashed down upon three of the attackers, with the sounds of bone crushing beneath its weight. The extended length of the lightsaber blade would come into play as well, as the Jedi moved with other-worldly quickness unexpected from his sheer size. Beams of purple sheared through the torso of another attacker who moved to turn and run away, ending buried deep into the chest of not one; but two other attackers who stood in line with each other, and who thought to draw swords and meet the Jedi in some desperate attempt to surprise him.

The last of the attackers was drawn from his feet through the air, his blaster falling from his grasp at the abruptness of the unseen grapple. In a matter of milliseconds, he found himself clenched within the massive fist of the Feeorin; with Sol’yan’s eyes staring deep into those of his newfound captive. His lightsaber still thrummed hungrily, with a deep and rhythmic hum that sounded like a feral beast whose hunger had yet to be slaked. Yet, the Jedi himself was the epitome of bridled fury - a vision of balance that could only have been inculcated from years of discipline and meditation. To witness such a sight; that of someone who could wield not only such power, but control of said power as well - was what gave the Silver Jedi the near-legendary reputation they possessed. The attacker whimpered within the Jedi’s grasp, to which the Jedi merely stood there as resolute as a pillar. Finally, his richly textured voice broke the tension: ”Your crimes have resulted in the deaths of innocents aboard this station, with many others trapped within it. I do not have time for your rationalizations or games. I have one question, and you have exactly one opportunity to answer it.”

The Jedi paused as he let his words sink in, but soon continued: ”Where are the bombs placed?” Under normal circumstances, such a question would have been given a simple derisive laugh in response, but Sol’yan employed his considerable attunement with the force in his question. Despite that, the attacker appeared resilient enough to avoid responding immediately. Instead, he cast a stray glance at a small datapad device at his hip. The Jedi slowly placed the assailant onto his own two feet, then wrenched the datapad effortlessly from the clip securing it to the attacker’s belt. Sol’yan had initially been tasked with evacuating the civilians from this station, yet the Jedi knew well that to try and find each and every person trapped on this station in the midst of a developing warzone would be an impossible task to accomplish within a short period of time. To accomplish his goal, the Jedi knew what he had to do. If he could disable at least two or three of these bombs, perhaps he could save the station from a total collapse. Then, he would have more time to save those he could.

He nodded to one of his men, who proceeded to bind the former attacker in handcuffs. Sol’yan then attempted to open a comm channel to Liedran Kathause : <”Sol’yan to the Cadence, urgent communication for Commodore Kathouse only.”> The Jedi Master waited to be connected on a secure shortbeam line before he continued: <”Commodore, I have my hands on a datapad which appears to have the locations of several of the bombs mentioned in the mission briefing. I believe I can reach at least two or three such locations, which could hopefully prevent a full station collapse. Can you spare any further men to assist in this endeavor?”>

 

[Iris Arani]

Formation only lasted so long. Iris, ever the abstract artist that she was, veered off as they clashed with the swarm of Imperial fighters. The colors and the path she saw was a far cry from the normal tactics of her fellow pilots. Perhaps that's what made her so effective. Sudden turns that made no sense at first, firing where no one seemed to be heading only to catch a ship off guard and take them down. Her world of colors was bright here.

Their world.

Through their meld Iris would lead Briana Sal-Soren and Valery Noble through the colors. Painting out their actions. Highly effective, completely coordinated. They were lethal and effective as only Jedi could be.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

G R U N G E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
IMPERIAL ARMY SPECIAL FORCES 'STORM COMMANDOS'
1st GROUP | OPERATIONAL DETACHMENT ALPHA 'VANDAL'
ODA ATTACHED TO | IMPMAG in support of KPF
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades
NIO | Jordi Massad | Don Belkora | Rika Hiro | Karissa Saitel | Iseri Tanaka
RA | CH3 | IVI | Sol Stazi | Bernard | Ishida Ashina

RAW POWER
COMPNOR-IMPAF JOINT OPERATION 'RIGHTEOUS CLAIM'
KUAT '74
​

<"Copy...same droid I saw with the Lady, its armed and on the move. I'm on it.">

<"Good look, Shiv. Keep us posted."> He replied, did exactly what he was thinking. He lowered his battle rifle down to peer over the growing situation again, narrowing his eyes behind the glowing crimson hud projected over his vision.

The speech began and Kuat finally took the stage proper, immediately after, Salvo peered down the scope of his rifle once more, keying in the distance, trajectory and position of a shot yet to be fired.

<"You'd think she wouldn't have to introduce herself if she's supposed to be the Queen..."> Priest asked the way of Salvo, the current designated marksman peering down the sight of the sniper rifle in her direction.

<"You know how it goes, these sorta people will look for any reason to hear their own voice."> The Storm Commando replied.

Grunge offered up a faint huff of amusement before a flash of movement from a painted silhouette on his target scanner caught his attention, his eyes narrowed and his heads-up display zoomed in on the droid. Its trajectory was growing more exact, toward Grunge's location.

<"Shiv, close the gap with that droid, it's got a scent on our spot somehow, eliminate it if possible."> Grunge commanded and not moments later, the catalyst of the chaos made due on her call to play and so began the symphony. Ironically, the Lady of Silence was the first to play, ripping out her horrid instrument as she dispensed death into the crowd and fired at the Queen directly.

Immediately after, all hell and chaos broke loose and as a Jedi stood up to block the bolts headed the way of the Queen, Grunge quickly determined that Vandal would be on the move.

<"Fuck."> Grunge said aloud before he approached the window pane of the room the Storm Commandos were shacked up in pressing a button a nearby control panel the window slid open and the deafening sound of civil chaos from beneath began to impede on the room. Any hope of taking a marksman shot from here was abandoned and they knew they'd have to get close and personal to ensure the mission's execution, even if it came with nasty optics.

<"That clanker is closing in on our spot."> Salvo said as he glanced to the motion sensor attached to the side of his sniper, swiping clear the bipod as he slung it around his shoulder and took up his carbine.

<"Tracking. Least of our problems. We need to get the kill, Priest- get a nine-line to Belkora and have evac at the ready. Need a bolt square between the eyes of Miss Royal and then we're exfil."> Grunge said as he planted the magnetic end of a grappling rappel line into the edge of the window before he began to mount a rappel from the edge of the building, Salvo joining at his side all the same as he twisted his back to try and aim the sniper the way at Elane from the building.

<"They're gonna try and move her out quick, we need to take this alley way across to intercept her escape."> Salvo commented the way to Grunge who was already well on his way down from the third floor of the building.

<"This is Rook to Bishop- need our exfil ready and in position. A cloak snuffed our attempt at a kill, we're headed to intercept and execute."> He said the way of Don Belkora and Jordi Massad before taking up the comms equipment and moving up to the rappel ledge, mounting his own line before following the two Commandos down. Taking a back way, they hoped to wrap around the chaos and ambush the security detail assigned to exfil the Queen and as soon as CH3 managed his way up to their spot...it was empty. They certainly left a trail with the open window, moved furniture propped up to make a brace for their shots but otherwise, gone with the wind.

With weapons hot they made their way down the alleyway, baring all the description of commandos ready to operate with lethality save for the distinct silhouette that the Storm Commandos had otherwise in their full battle rattle, something which would've screamed Imperial. With the sword through the triforce of Kuat patched on the ballistic vests over their chest came all the plausible deniability. Just Kuati patriots.

They emerged from the shadow of the alleyway not a few meters from the airspeeder that was to be used to evacuate Elane Kuat should all go sour.

From the blackness, emerged the crimson eyes of their headsets matched with golden particle beams that thudded into two of the Kuat Security Forces as they moved to secure Kuat's means of escape and trap the Monarch into a killing zone, utilizing the element of surprise and tactical maneuvering to seize the upper hand over the outnumbering Kuat Security Forces.

They wanted to draw that Cloak to them all the same, with a pair of Ravenous grenades fixed to his webbing, he was ready and willing to strip away the force capabilities of the Jedi and shoot him dead in the streets like any other mortal man.

 

[Prefsbelt Commander]

THE INQUISITOR
Special Agent Andreas Beckett
NIV Imperatores Pax
Kalie Alverez
Rika Hiro | Don Belkora

​

There was no triumph in Andreas Beckett's eyes. Just a cold, callow sadness. He had vanquished his opponent, yes. But he felt, deep inside like he had maimed more than killed. The aged interrogator kept smoking in silence. Listening to Alverez as she cursed and seethed. Andreas obliged her request not to stare, and he did so. Navel gazing as he smoked. This. This was tortured existence right here. The man kept taking long drags as he listened to her, letting the roll burn its way right up to the filter, before dropping it, and snuffing the cigarette. And then wordlessly lighting another. He sat there for some time contemplating the silence.

"I'm sorry you had to find out." He offered, still not daring to look up at her. "I'm sorry I-just...." It was awful. It was one thing to question a hostile agent about their intentions. About their missions. Their lives. But this. To tear apart a life. A blissful, maybe not happy. And they'd turned her into a killing machine. A machine with feelings. It was one thing to join the Navy. Stormtrooper Corps. Etcetera. It was another thing ethically to have that forced on you, along with the capacity for interpersonal relationships. "Cigarette?" Andreas lit himself up another, and then looked at Kalie. She needed one. As the lighter clicked, and the flame flickered, the door hissed open.

"Special Agent Beckett," Hess barked, "Sir, we-we found something." Andreas swallowed, and looked to Kalie. There was a polite nod exchanged before Andreas rose from the table, and exited. The door sealing shut behind him. "Special Agent, we have a uh, a problem. Miss Alverez, she looks to be uh, be made in New Imperial space." Andreas froze for a moment, glaring at Hess. "Carreda has a more detailed prelim." Andreas rounded the next corner, to find Carreda peeling the skin from Kalie's hand.

Andreas froze for a moment. The hand, being peeled from the artificial flesh, in of itself was a horrifying sight to behold. That, and the Special Agent was still contemplating the news. A COMPNOR agent? That was out the realm of possibility. At least prima facie. "You better explain this technical officer, what the hell's going on here?!"

"Radiation sir. The key is radiation." Carreda put the hand down, and turned back to Beckett. He too froze for a moment, before nodding. "Look, I don't know how to put this. But, every smelt of metal, leaves trace amounts of radiation. Not harmful, but enough to act as a signature we can map to databases. If we blow up a ship, there's a chance we can pick out where it was constructed based on the radiation emitted by the metal." He beckoned Andreas over, and swivelled in his stool, "Agent Alverez, she was manufactured with some light weight, durasteel composite alloys. Probably with an aluminium spread. I'll need a more detailed assessment. But it's something light, to decrease weight." Andreas still looked unimpressed and folded his arms. "Most, smelters. Manufacturers, they emit trace amounts of radiation," He pulled up a terminal screen, and flashed it. It was a Galactic map. And the map flashed, several green dots. Systems in New Imperial space. "Radiation we have on file, the chemistry of it, points to either Mygeeto. Kalee. And Entralla."

Andreas looked gobsmacked, down at the hand, and then at this. This had escalated to beyond just Prefsbelt. And while he was a fellow First Imperial exile, there was the potential to find some truly troublesome ground. Could the ISB have forced this? Could they have caused this? An attempt to get rid of the Prefsbelt Command's de-facto ruler? Andreas' mind ran in circles. He could see the fear on the Prefsbelt Stossjaegers as well. "We need to call this in." Mor'shah looked set to kill him with a stare, "Shut it. Shut the fuck up." Andreas intercepted, "This is bigger than us." Andreas addressed the room, "We have escalated, to who knows what. And I will need to make some calls to ISB. Get us a line on Alverez, if she's an asset, or if she pre-dates the Empire. You," He gestured to Major Hess. "Make sure to file a report with Prefsbelt. Just in case this goes no where."

Andreas then moved back to the interrogation room. Looking at Kalie, and then moving to his briefcase, retrieving his own commlink. He assessed her. Eyeing her and swallowing. Part of him, urged him to tell her the development of her story. But rather, the Agent gave a nod. "We'll, uh, we'll be getting some reinforcements to... Well check you out." Hopefully that's all the ISB would be needing to do. Still, Andreas left the sell, and keyed in the encryption for the comm link. It wasn't small or circular like most units. Rather a head set, with a bulky battery attached. Settling himself back in the waiting room, Andreas keyed in the code to ISB head office.

"Uh, ISB? This is Naval Intelligence, Special Agent Andreas Beckett," Andreas began, "Code clearance grey. Identifying code DB-7631. I..." He paused, "I've got something here for you. Apart of Task Force Brutus. Naval force above Kuat. I know, it might be a little beyond my clearance. But, would you guys happen to know of say, droids, manufactured in the Empire, and sent out as spies?"