Down the Line [Lords of the Fringe Dominion of Sluis Van]

[Vrag]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Allies: [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Reverance"]

________________________________________________________​

The woman pulled a face at his mention of the Forcer hunters, but the name made her warm inside nonetheless. Every time she heard it, the Knight was reminded of their brutal victory over Corellia, one of the most prized worlds of the Protectorate, and that alone was worth any suffering.

"A bit brown-nosed, is he?" she quipped dryly in response, smirking behind the blackened visor of her helmet. Sycophants had always been a pet peeve of hers, and if what the man was implying was true, the Sith would have no qualms with cutting the Khedive down where he stood, if need be.

The firerreo merely snorted by way of reply, rolling her eyes at his vague answer. Whether he lacked the balls to say it outright, or if he was truly focused on their goal remained to be seen, but Vrag would remain skeptical throughout. She wasn't easily impressed, and while he'd certainly bought his way into her good graces with both sets of his guns, the man still had a long way to go.

"Perhaps," the woman conceded, her tone betraying her amusement. "Perhaps not."

"I guess nobody ever told you size doesn't matter, huh?" her lips stretched into a wide grin as she gestured to the massive weapon in his arms, the cannon clearly a compensation for something. Maybe she could find out what exactly that was after they razed that bunker to the ground, if she was still in the mood for some lightweight entertainment by then. The man was handsome enough, and there was no foreplay quite like unadulterated slaughter.

There was also no cold shower quite like the Hand of the Dark Lord speaking into your ear.

"Hello to you too, Rev," the woman picked up the call with a sigh, resigned to resume her fantasizing about dirty rutting at a later date. Her brow furrowed the further she listened to the Sith Lord, however, and her mouth opened before she could stop herself.

"Are you… dunk?" Vrag blurted out incredulously, but there was a slur to his words that she would recognize in her sleep.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

This push from the Fringe was something that was keeping Coren from his day job. Hell, combat pay was better than no pay, and really, people were looking for their family, not necessarily things. And while Coren's Force powers were tuned for Sensing others, they were a whole lot better at finding objects. More Insurance Investigator and less bounty hunter. Still, the latter was fun, when he found the work and knew where his quarry was going to be.

Still, arriving in the Tiburon, he was still flying separately from the Dawn Treader, the Star Destroyer giving support to the Fringe's more battle-focused craft. One of these days he was going to go and try to find where Kelly was... but the drive the Fringe was on kept him busy, and he was honestly assuming the worst. As sad as that was.

He couldn't feel her, and any time he tried to reach out in the Force, he was thrown back into his head, or scanning a whole damned system of voices.

And he was understanding that there were some system issues with Sluis control. Probably a safer place for him, rather than going after the kidnapping. Him sensing someone in any system just was something he was avoiding, if he could help it.

Sending out a message to Sluis Control, Starchaser gave it a moment before approach.

“This is Starchaser aboard the Tiburon to Sluis Control. Do you read?”

Sending the message at a number of different frequencies, he was hoping someone there would hear it.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[The End Narrator]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Task - Intelligence and Overwatch

November had been inserted some time ago...

Perhaps under the cover of darkness, perhaps she had mingled in with refugees of the whole Galactic Event that was tearing governments asunder and ripping worlds apart - but she was there. It was a nice place the Governor, Sluissi leader, guy - person or whatever was being held. Probably his home, and well by the looks of it - these individuals holding him weren't exactly playing around. Roving patrols, mobile turret stations - wouldn't be a cake walk for those who were inserting themselves in on the ground to take a punch at it.

However, she had overwatch - through the scope of her Delta-X 171 and her HUD which had tagged each set of enemy targets around the general area.

It was rocky terrain, so she was able to conceal herself in an inset overlooking the place.

Yeah, she'd only provide intelligence and cover fire on this one. Nothing more. She had her fun on Bespin with [member="Nui Akona"] and was long overdue for a massage and a hot bath. Something she swore she'd get sooner or later - perhaps sooner than later.

[member="Reverance"] | [member="Vrag"] | [member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="November Sinclair"] | [member="Reverance"]

Loyalty could be a shutta that was for sure, most of the times it was cute, but when you were facing a losing war and still did not give up, because of some misplaced form of loyalty? Well, that went two inches to far, they kept strolling and finally Darell retorted. Truth to be told he was enjoying himself plenty right now, Xiangu had told him Vrag was a competent individual, but hearing it and believing it were two seperate things.

'Who ever told you that...' suddenly a tank came into view, one of the few at had been patrolling the area. They simply had had some bad luck with their route, but Irani did not show any signs of surprise. He kept on walking, raised up his cannon and blasted without breaking his stride.

BOOM

The cannon lashed backed, hit him in the shoulder with the recoil, Irani planted his feet firmly in the ground and managed to avoid falling. In the meanwhile half of the tank was gone, smoking pile of rubble all that was left. Hadn't been any other choice, the thing had already spotted them.

'...must have had the smallest dick in the history of the Galaxy.' He finished his sentence smoothly, before looking over his cannon. Man that thing was hot.

'I feel like it is time for your men to commence the attack.'

 

[Reverance]

Sluisnapped....
[member="Vrag"], [member="Darell Irani"], [member="November Sinclair"]

The star viper was descending beyond the pull of the orbit when he heard those sultry words, incredulous as they might have been, as he wondered just how many doors were available in the universe to surf upon. They had to be running low at this point.

::Why Vrag...what ever do you mean!?:: He stated, nonchalant, as he approached the comm device and jingled the glass of whiskey, bouncing the rocks around within the tumbler. The sound of it would echo across encrypted wavelengths ::I have yet to begin to defile myself...::

Sensors picked up on Vrag's position as the Star Viper came in low near the bunker, strafing the ground as he aimed for tanks and stuff. He let loose on the blaster fire, punching from the origin of the ships cockpit, as the vessel carved a giant gash against attacking forces. He would loop around and make a return trip, before dismounting and assisting on foot. As he piloedt, he flung his tumbler and went about searching for a water bottle in the flooring. He could feel it and hear it rolling around, just had to get at it. Get hydrated for game time.

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="November Sinclair"]

__________________________________________________​

Her companion must've been hotter than she thought, because otherwise a tank would've had a hard time of sneaking up on her. Still, nothing to be done about it once the looming machine took aim on them. Without a shred of hesitation, Vrag threw herself into a sideways roll over her shoulders, hoping to confuse them for long enough tha—

BOOM!

That. She scrambled back on her feet, dusting off her armor in a show of nonchalance as her blue eyes found the smoking hull of what had once been a tank of some size. With the smile of someone who'd just had a near brush with death, the Knight made her way back to her unlikely companion, clapping him on the shoulder with little difficulty.

"Well now... this baby sure blows a load, doesn't it?" she chuckled, slightly breathless from the encounter. She cast an appreciative look at the hand-held cannon before pushing away and turning to descend towards the bunker proper.

"Commanders," she barked into her mouthpiece, her voice going from playful to cold in the blink of an eye, "rip them a new nerf herder."

The kid gloves were off, and Vrag didn't bother waiting up on the Fringer anymore. Hot or not, she was here to bash heads and wipe the floor with kidnappers. Flirting with handsome allies was certainly a perk of the job, but it couldn't be the focus of her trip to Sluis Van. That is not to say that the Knight would be opposed to meeting with him again at some more opportune occasion, when their suggestive back-and-forth wouldn't be interrupted by automated defenses.

"Oh, for feth's sake..." if she weren't mid-assault, the woman would've rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, but sprinting left her with little breath to spare on such antics. Still, drunk or not, the Hand's air support was more than welcome as his vessel started making strafing runs above the defenders of the bunker. Between Reverance and her own troops, the enemy would be far too busy to notice the two of them blowing their way sneaking into the bunker.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Objective: Sluisnapped / Be Useless
Allies: [member="Vrag"] | @Reverence | [member="November Sinclair"] | [member="Darell Irani"]

The air shimmered and distorted, as if the fabric of time and space were being pulled apart to reveal a single foot that- oh, you know the rest.

Dûvain emerged from nowhere to suddenly stand somewhere in that unexplainable, vague way of his. The rather tall Arkanian experiment found himself standing in the middle of a combat zone. Alas, such things did tend to happen. The heat and wind of a sudden explosion battered him, causing his long white hair to whip about. His face looked like an artisan had taken a chisel to a block of stone, all austere lines. But the artisan had forgotten to paint the features afterward, leaving them a dull grayish hue. One glance at the eyes, however, and 'gray' might be exchanged for 'ash,' for there is little to compare them with except twin volcanic pits full of red hellfire. The rest of his face was a mask of pure derision. All his hate and rage seemed to dwell in those twin pits, as if they'd siphoned it off from the rest of him.

It was in this guise that the Hybrid surveyed the field of battle. He seemed bored. Yes, yes, battlefields he'd seen before. Dead soldiers, the shouts of the wounded, the smell of blood, piss and burnt flesh. All very terrifying. He drank in a deep breath, savoring the scents.

"Mmmm."

He licked his lips, as a snake might flick out a tongue to taste the air for prey.

"Ah."

The disenchanted Sorcerer wandered past the wreckage of a still-burning tank. Two people were standing nearby, a man and a woman. And now to add a serpent and complete the circle. How quaint, he thought.

"Excuse me," Dûvain's reverberating voice caused the air to thrum, perhaps a trick, an illusion? The words dripped from his mouth like acid, as if there were an infinite amount of other things he could be doing right now, but fate had conspired to necessitate this conversation. "Have you seen the Khedive?"

 

[Malok]

To be perfectly honest, the view spoken of by [member="Darth Parash"] was one that the Sith had put little thought toward. The reason being, he was reared by the hands of the Mandalorian Clans. He was raised on the battlefield. A soldier at heart, Darth Metus did not stop to wonder how his blaster functioned, but focused primarily upon facing down the enemy. Yet, despite this fact, he did indeed find himself intrigued by what the man had to say. In this day and age, a different perspective was always good.

"To be honest, I hadn't put much thought to the intracacies behind the powers we wield. Yet the notion of applying scientific method to the Force intrigues me. This seems like something that I would like to explore further."

* * *​

Wiring. Now there was a fun gig...if one considered haphazardly rifling through flayed copper as a past time. This was the sort of thing that the, personally, Chief Keith did not enjoy participating in. However, it looked poor if a superior sat on his ass while the employees did all the work. So, all hands were on deck. Armed with a pair of pliers and a Droid to lend a hand, the Chief busied himself with repairing the wiring to the most vital systems. Despite the tedium of it all, he was making a decent chunk of headway. It would only be a matter of time before there was actual karking gravity to work with.

Then came a transmission over the comm...which screeched...directly into the Chief's ear. He responded, initially, with a few muffled curses before addressing Starchaser properly. "This is Chief Keith of SDE. We were dispatched to assist in repairing Sluis Control, as it is currently karked up beyond belief. If you've got a braincell and can hold a pair of pliers, we welcome the help. Over." Was that crass? Yep. Did he care? Not really. He was working, and all that mattered were the results.

[member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Jorga the Hutt]

[member="Darth Metus"]

Parash bowed again, fractionally. "Then my hope is that you'll be able to provide me with some outside perspective on the best places to find the relevant data. I've signed on with the One Sith, but I have no benchmark against which to compare the quality of their accessible resources -- holocrons and other ancient records, primarily. From your perspective, are their resources sufficient for this kind of research?"

 

[Irys Arist'lar]

Sluis Control

A burst of cronau radiation heralded the arrival of a small number of vessels. Admiral Irys Arist'lar of the ACA Navy, and also a member of Hoersch Kessel Driveworks sat the the bridge of the Gunray-class ACN Majesty. A number of escorts followed in their wake, they had been investigating the fringes of ACA territory, whilst probing Omega space before making the jump across the Sluis Van. Unnecessary in the current context, but one didn't cross the territory of a peer enemy without some firepower.

The bulk of the fleet, however, was comprised of decommissioned Lucrehulk-class carriers. Within those hulls were manufacturing droids, engineers, and spare parts. The bulk of the fleet remained on the fringes of the system, no need to make their hosts feel uncomfortable afterall, even if they had been planning a joint naval attack before recent events.

A handful of shuttles and the carriers broke away and headed towards Sluis Van. Irys was here to extend the assistance of the Abrion Corporate Alliance, whilst also attempt to negotiate the lease of some shipyard space for HKD manufacturing. The was prime space, and the previous tenants had now lost control.

"Get in contact with whoever is organising the repairs, and then find me a member of Fringe command in the system for some commercial discussions," Irys tasked one of her junion officers in her typically blunt manner.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Vrag"] | [member="November Sinclair"]

‘Quite so.’ the Sith replied with a nod, pondering on the current situation. He had been hoping they could get way closer, slip into the bunker while her forces would come down as a hammer and create a distraction that way. But he hadn’t been anticipating stumbling upon a tank and having to destroy it, noise had already alerted them to their position.

Sure, they would be busy with Vrag’s troops, but no element of surprise here.

Which was sad, but nothing could be done about that now. Irani was about to follow that nice piece of- what the feth. Suddenly a corpse came into view, smoke curling around and appearing out of seemingly nowhere.

A quick survey told him it had been what he thought it was, interesting. He had thought that such esoteric applications would have been extremely dangerous to use in this current setting, perhaps even teleport them under the ocean, or just evaporate into nothingness.

But the guy was here already, and why be lame about it?

‘I have not, I am afraid.’ a shrug. ‘But intel suggests he is currently held in a bunker, which we are currently assaulting.’

He clicked on his commlink and made contact with Sinclair, pure technically he shouldn’t be having access to her. But pure technically he shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

‘Miss Sinclair, if my estimations are right you have a very good view of the battlefield right now. We are currently entering the assault-phase, would you be so kind to deliver support fire and call out targets?’

Closing the link again, he gave a nod to [member="Dûvain"]

‘Feel free to join us.’

And then he started walking.

 

[The End Narrator]

The message would be received and November would post up her rifle, extending the bipod fully as she brought the buttstock against her shoulder. She nestled it firmly into her socket and looked through the scope at the bridge to which they were assaulting – roughly half a kilometer ahead – most likely within visible range was a five by five column of troops with two heavy tanks in side by side file behind them.

“Roger, appears you have a twenty-five man heavy contingent headed your direction…” She checked the directional heading compared to their current position. “Headed East…they appear to be aware of your presence and might be setting up an ambush position or even a blockade to stop your advance."

She took a glance through the scope once more, pulling the charging handle back and punching it forward – loading a 12.7x100MM Round into the chamber. A single bullet would potentially take out two to three men considering their close proximity and the sheer velocity of the bullet alone but then attract attention to her position – a potential risk she’d have to take.

“I have a clear shot – but once I start firing, those tanks are a problem. These HEIAP rounds will not penetrate that armor unless I fire in rapid succession…then I lose accuracy.” She sounded grim on the other end. “We’re in a bit of a situation…” She continued to scan the area as the enemy set up the apparent ambush for [member="Darell Irani"], [member="Reverance"], [member="Vrag"] and [member="Dûvain"]

“Appears they have some ordinance stationed behind the tanks – can’t promise this will work – but I’m going to give it a shot.” She tilted her head down and touched the earpiece. “Permission to engage…”

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Dûvain"] | [member="November Sinclair"]

________________________________________________________________​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oh2vO_FTEJc​

People always seemed to spawn out of thin air in these situations, but so long as they weren't hostiles, Vrag wasn't going to complain. She eyed the approaching figure, an eyebrow arching behind her visor when she took in the get-up.

Subtle.

Then again, smoke would blend right in where they were going. With a small shrug that barely moved her pauldrons, the Knight looked between the two men as they traded words, parts of their exchange drowned out by the chatter in her comlink. She gave a few quick orders to the troops in the field, doing her best to coordinate their maneuvers with Reverance. Squinting at his ship, she could almost swear its flight trajectory was more... wobbly than it should be. The woman dismissed the thought with a small sigh and cast one last distrustful gaze at the pale man before she picked up Sinclair's call.

"Air support's got the tanks covered," she responded to the sniper, seeing as the businessman/commando was still engaged in pleasant conversation with the newcomer. "Take the shot, we'll deal with the rest of the fethers." There was a certain satisfaction her tone as she readied her trusty flamethrower, glancing over to the pair.

"We've got company, boys!" she called out as she turned to face in the indicated direction, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"9 o'clock, twenty-five heavies!"

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Irys Arist'lar"] [member="Darth Metus"]

Count Adrian of Serreno had been in charge of the repairs, an aide to the High Councilor Ovmar the young man had been instrumental in the take over of Baktoid Industrial and a dozen other highly questionable corporate moves. In this he had the full trust of the Lord of the Fringe, and seeing as Ovmar was gone most of these days it fell to Adrian to properly organize the department in his Lord's absence.

Currently Iron Crown, SDE and EA were furiously working on the assessment and repairs of the defense grid, without it the system would be defenseless against the onslaught of Reavers incoming. The Fringe fleet wouldn't be there in time, that was the one constant that made everyone work just a touch harder, that and the promise of profits in the long run, of course.

Finally Irys would be hailed, a finely groomed man popping up on her screen.

'This is Sluis Control, the Abrion Corporate Alliance has been recognized. Please state your business.'

It was pretty obvious what they were here for, but protocol had to be followed. Especially in times like these.

 

[The End Narrator]

And so she’d engage, November would nestle herself into the rifle again – settling into a comfortable position as she took aim upon the center mass of pirate – well he appeared to be a pirate if her vision served her correctly. “Bad day to be you buddy…” She whispered softly as she gently squeezed the trigger. There would be a click as the coil, hit the firing pin within the lower receiver and from within the firing pin would impact the back end of the cartridge and trigger the explosive reaction of the gun-powder behind the shell itself.

And the pointed piece of metal that screamed death – would make its way down range at approximately 4,000 FPS. The bullet would impact the target before the reverberation of the shot echoed throughout the rocky terrain. An explosive force in its own right as it literally caused the being to explode in a rain of tissue and bone but took off the arm of the being standing beside him and easily detonated the ordinance behind them – sending a cascade of searing hot shrapnel and liquid plasma in different directions.

The chaos would ensue and tank one on the right would immediately begin opening fire on the cliff-side with a contingent of approximately seven to eight troops while the second tank scrambled to get additional men within to get it up and running considering its men had just exploded in the aftermath of the single shot.

The cliff-face would shake all around her as she ducked down from her position, calling out into the comlink – “Well, that got their attention…all yours!”

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Dûvain"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

"How banal."

The Hybrid's lip curled upward slightly at the sudden slew of shouting from the woman. Clearly a peon. Exploding tanks and an onslaught of soldiers... what next, an airstrike? The Khedive's chances of survival seemed to be increasingly diminishing. Hostage rescue appeared a little outside his present company's purview. Still, watching them get the hostage killed would be more entertaining than possibly any other outcome.

Dûvain would follow along, if only to escape the doldrums of life.

The genetic experiment raised the clawed fingers of his right hand toward the oncoming column of soldiers even as a shot rang out from nearby and sowed disorder in their ranks. Fear swam through the air like river snakes up a stream, engulfing the troops in a tangled web of Force Horror. The tide of sudden, overwhelming fear and regret cascaded across them like a flood, reminding them of who and what they faced; combined forces of One Sith and the Fringe, known to torture their prisoners. How could the atrocities of the Talith sisters be forgotten, or the mercilessness of Kaine Zambrano drift away into sullen memory? Irrational panic ate away at their courage like acid. Two of the soldiers threw down their arms and fled, while the others wavered, guns lowered as a hopelessness crushed their resolve.

The Force seemed to be having erratic effects these days, but for the moment it appeared to be working. Dûvain wondered, waiting, hoping to see if there were any side-effects. That would make things so much more... stimulating.


[member="Vrag"] | [member="November Sinclair"] | [member="Reverance"] | [member="Darell Irani"]

 

[Irys Arist'lar]

"This is Admiral Arist'lar of the Abrion Corporate Navy, we have supplies, droids and equipment ready to disembark. All we need is to be brought into the operation and directed and we will gladly assist where possible," she replied. The decommissioned Lucrehulks started to decelerated, the shuttles around them like a pack of flies. The vessels had been disarmed to a great extent, but they weren't completely disarmed. The large vessels could potentially act as space stations if defense of the system should anything happen more suddenly than expected.

"Sluis Van has been a major resupply, repair and docking station for the Protectorate navy for a long time, and we would be most pleased to assist in the handover.

"On top of this, I am also personally here to enquire whether the new regime would be amenable to leasing some docking space to Hoersch Kessel Driveworks Inc. This is possibly pre-emptive, but we would be keen to discuss as soon as practicable and could well aid the other corporations in providing a significant boost to the economy by hiring locally."

Of course it was pre-emptive, that was the point. She was sticking here nose in early to sniff around, before anyone else realised that a major shipyard was changing hands and presenting opportunities.

[member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="November Sinclair"] | [member="Dûvain"] | [member="Reverance"]

'That will do just fine, miss Sinclair. Thank you.' he replied over the commlink, in the meanwhile Irani was loading a new power cell into the cannon. Giving him another two shots to work with, or a couple of hundred shots if he wanted to switch to automatic, wouldn't work right now though. Not with one tank hammering into Sinclair's position and the other still threatening theirs.

Duvain's display of power had the intended effect, the soldiers who had first been so orderly and full with discipline was slowly breaking up into chaotic figments of former glory. It wouldn't take a lot to break them now, loading in the new cell Irani took aim and braced himself.

Then he punched it.

KABOM

Again the cannon roared and once again the tank that had been trying to target them found itself half disintegrated. The other tank was realizing the danger and stopped firing at Sinclair, instead starting to turn towards them. Irani grinned and took aim again.

 

[Vrag]

Objective: Sluisnapped
Allies: [member="Reverance"] | [member="Darell Irani"] | [member="Dûvain"] | [member="November Sinclair"]

_____________________________________________________________​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ARCuTlg-Y8​

What goes PEW PEW? The sniper rifle in the hands of Miss Sinclair.

What goes KABOOM? The definitely illegal hand-cannon in the hands of the ruggedly handsome businessman/Rambo.

And what goes FWOOSH, children?

Vrag was all about smacking down clichés, so instead of fuel, she simply added fire to the fire, directing the unforgiving heat of her flamethrower at the enemy. The troops were in complete disarray by now, and thus ripe for the picking. While the guy in need of sunscreen had gone and done a number on their minds, the Fringer had opted for the more classic, dick-measuring intimidation tactic.

By the Force, did she need to get her mind out of the gutter. What better way to curbstomp your arousal than by throwing a barbecue party in the backyard of a bunker?

The Knight was glad for the sound-dampeners in her helmet when the screams turned it up to eleven, cringing despite herself as the men and women were cooked inside their own armors. After a few seconds of the witch-hunting era reenactment, she decided to take pity on them, putting a few slugs through their skulls. Blessed silence. Or, well, blessed sounds of death and pain somewhat further away.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Irys Arist'lar"] | [member="Darth Metus"]

Sluis Van was one of the nodes within the vast galactic grid, one of the major players, since Corellia found itself to be set back in terms of production and manufacturing, after the regrettable destruction of its shipyards and most of it infrastructure, one could safely say that Sluis was currently the second largest shipyards within the Galaxy. Only Kuat could top it in production value and that said something about Sluis Van, point was the Fringe knew its value and it would use that knowledge as far as it could.

Iron Crown obviously would take up the bulk of the shipyards, some early 'arrivals' would be second, but there was enough for more players. Which was what HKD was gambling on, of course.

'Your help is appreciated.' the hologram would answer neutrally. 'My men inside will coordinate with yours. As to your other request, it is indeed a little early for such discussion.'

A ponder.

'But I could listen to your proposal nonetheless.'