First Order: All Hallow's Eve [Dominion of Red Nebula and Gehenna]

[Kyrel Ren]

Objective 3
Post 4
Location: Abidicator Mess Hall
Enemies: Zombies (Death Troopers)
[member="Wolf"] [member="Sara Lee Jones"] [member="Darth Veles"]

He had heard the booming voice of the Admiral. There was a breach in the hanger,and all combat personnel were called to repel the enemy. Adrenaline was coursing through Kyrel's veins whatever he had left anyway. They were all dispersed as men,and women plus the group he was hanging out with all went in different directions. He immediately followed his fellow pilot [member="Sara Lee Jones"] into the hallway,He had passed many Stormtroopers and Officers sprinting down the hall as fast as they could like they had a purpose. When he finally caught up with Sara he saw a stormtrooper,or at least a glimpse of one as the door shut,he said to himself "W..What the kriff."

He rushed to the second checkpoint as fast as he could with Sara. As he was trying to reach their destination so many questions were racing through his head. Many of the questions that were in his head were concerned with what he saw. Were the First Order fighting their own,Was the trooper he saw back there some part of rogue unit. He did not know as he felt some unusual sense of fear flood through him,whatever he did see he would find out when they reached the second checkpoint.

When he did reach the second checkpoint he saw a site that was absolutely terrifying. He saw what looked like Stormtroopers eating other Stormtroopers except these figures looked as if their armor was torn to shreds,and their white clean armor was mostly dirty and blood stained,There guts and muscles were hanging out and looked as if they were going to fall off the bones. The mouth pieces of their helmets were the only part of there heads uncovered,and from the looks of it black ooze was coming from there mouth Kyrel did not know if it was blood or bile. He perhaps didn't want to know at all. Currently their was a horde of these as what Kyrel could describe as 'Death Troopers' were feasting upon one of the troopers grabbing a hold of intestines and other organs,while the man was practically screaming bloody murder. Two Death Troopers started walking towards a trooper who kept firing blaster bolts at the two,and they hit the walking corpses in the chests,but to no avail they kept moving as if the lethal bolt's of energy didn't have an affect on the two. The two zombies proceeded to grab the trooper who was firing by the arms,and than went to bite his neck all the while as the trooper was dragged down and was made a meal out of,his final words were,"Nooo! Please No! AHHHHH!!"

There was only about three troopers left one was manning an eweb turret,and the other two were wielding two standard blaster rifles. One of the troopers took two headshot's at the two Death troopers who were feasting on his former comrade,and just for good measure shot the now disemboweled trooper in the head just as well. The trooper who looked to be in charge looked at the two new arrivals,and said in a frantic but relieved tone. "Man am i glad to see you two,we don't know how you can help but you two have to help us we are being overrun and their is too many of those horrid creatures." Kyrel replied with a sense of purpose. "Don't worry the Calvary has arrived." He than walked towards the horde with the sounds of moans of these awful creatures filling the air. He activated the only weapon he did have built in vibroblades that came from the wrist. Surely his suit was by no means a weapon only a life support system,but these vibroblades were his only defense,or offense so he could at least fight back.

He walked into the horde with a sense of determination. He chopped the heads off of the group that were feasting on the now unrecognizable trooper. As he kept walking into the horde decapitating heads left in right until he could not be seen at all within the herd of corpses,he had a slight fear that his suit would not hold,but it was made of pure durasteel and the creatures teeth would surely break upon impact of the material. As they tried the heads were severed in return,and slowly but surely he was helping the second checkpoint by driving the wretched undead back little by little.

 

[Trenchcoat Man]

Objective 1 (Maybe); Objective 3 (Probably)
Post 1/20
Location: Gehenna Surface

​

Gehenna weren’t born, but made, like. It’s a fact I like to keep in mind …Maintains me sound perspective. It is of the machine that turns and turns and grinds us up in it, churning out power for the Great All Around.

Or karking somefing.

For reasons stark…sodding…unknown, it exists – And in a universe where fings are tethered togevver in a net of invasive bacteria….A bloke could only reckon, yeah, it exists for a reason. The fact the place is inhospitable’s right proof it weren’t meant for us…at least, not yet.​

And yet, we brand it bloody…Planet: Flaming Toilet – define our relationship to it as chit, right yeah, then pitch a wobbly when it’s laden with scalding turds at century’s end. We want it to be Hell. Godsake, we need it so karking bad. It absolves our responsibility for how savage, like, we’re gonna kark it right -karking- up.​

See, I never quite got this bit, yeah, old china? Perhaps you can help me out. Why’s it that in Jedi Force Philosophical wank-wank karkery, the light’s always repping the good against the agents of night…but when we’re talking about the World to Come, that fire’s no longer righteous, but terrible?​

Because of its brilliance, ennit? It casts back their shadows, shows them their ugly face in the mirror...Immolates silly self-delusion.​

Gehenna weren’t our baby, but we named it like it were, then forgot about it, let it grow up wicked. ​

And now we’re sitting in the dark, going mad imagining what God would’ve wrought such a nightmarish Hellscape.​

As if one need bother -- We’ll ruddy well do it for ‘em.​

Dream responsibly, children.​

​

The planet trembled beneath their feet again, but they had far too much dexterity to be offset after having traded bulky environmental suits for something much lighter: Two diving uniforms, pilfered from an evidence locker regarding an ongoing investigation which involved two illegal kolto farmers, and the helmets of two former swoop gangbangers, purchased in trade from a Coruscanti pawn shop.

In the empty space on the way to the regional hex, the two men stopped at a satellite diner. It was there that Benedict deemed it appropriate to, using ketchup and mustard, draw antediluvian-yet-pop symbology upon the newly acquired wardrobe of him and [member="Michael Sardun"]. The Guttermage would mutter the sacred words of art, and scald the condiment ritualwork into the fibers, ensuring their safety from the poison, the heat, so much so that the two men might even be able to swim in one of Gehenna’s many volcanoes, should it become necessary, should they only dare. It had protected Benedict’s guts from the searing of the jalapeño burger, anyway.

They were masters of the game, after all, having played it to completion time and again, for years on end. There was no longer really anything to prove by not cheating. Besides, these were new frontiers, new times – God knows what lay in wait.

“Shhh!,” Benedict hushed, a plume of cigarette smoke blowing out from the bottom of his helmet. It was not an active shushing of Michael, so much as it was a halting of his own use of swears. The Trenchcoat Man froze in place, gesturing with his arm to insist Michael do the same, observing the scene that lay just beyond. Slowly, he would ease up with his initial inclination toward threat.

On the empty, black and red scarred plane before them, there were two figures standing in aggressive opposition to each other. A man with obsidian skin and a long white beard pointed dramatically, the sleeve of his immaculate white robe hung from his arm, unmarred by the planet’s fogs of ash. The target of his index finger was a very fair-skinned man, though his hair, slicked back, was like ink, his eyebrows in their scowl almost detectable from this far off. His robe was an abyssal black, and it drooped from him as though he were a melting candle.

The beats of argument could be heard, of chiding and trash-talking, even over the combat between the pair of very large grash violently colliding in the middle.

“These fellahs…Y’ever see them before, then?,” Benedict asked the Sardun, his tone ominous. It was clear that the None-More-Spunk probably had.

The man in white shouted the word “Rutabaga,” among others, but its purpose was mysterious.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Objective 3
Location: Red Nebula
Allies: First Order and friends
Enemies: Zombies
People of interest: [member="Tanomas Graf"]
Post: 6/25

Now that Dunames was back on the bridge, she opened the tactical display installed onboard it; she realizes that the FIV Abdicator was in-system. Meanwhile, the Tunroth neophyte returned to his cabin for his meditation in the meantime, while the cleaning crew cleaned up the mess the zombies left behind in the ventral hangar. The bridge crew was suspicious upon seeing the Abdicator on the tactical display. Useful to detect the presence of pirates from long range, but how useful is it when you were boarded by zombies? She couldn't say. But it couldn't hurt to try contacting the FIV Abdicator and offer assistance. It was a shot in the dark, given that it was the flagship of someone who caught her red-handed. Dunames' heart was a little heavy, but she realizes that they may not be alone with the same zombie problem; even though the Ultima is free of zombies, perhaps the Abdicator isn't.

"Open a channel to all friendlies in range"

"Roger"

"Attention Admiral Graf of the FIV Abdicator, this is Dunames Lopez, do you need assistance?"

"Why? Its commanding officer caught you red-handed on Quintas; what makes you think that he won't attempt to capture you again?"

 

[MK-1488]

Somehow, there was an endless horde of undead creatures that poured through the abandoned ship in the hangar bay. MK had no idea how they had come to be in that state of between life and death and in such large numbers, but it must have been horrific.

Before he knew it, his rifle's energy cell was depleted. He had taken down several of the undead in the process, and he quickly moved to reload a fresh energy cell. Then came [member="Rexus Wenck"]'s order to retreat. There was nothing to do, it seemed. The beasts could not be contained by the hangar bay alone; they were using the ventilation shafts to spread throughout the rest of the ship.

They needed to be contained here, in this hallway, as much as possible.

MK was happy to see the presence of a Sith Lord, [member="Darth Veles"], at least. His red blade sprang to life out of the corner of MK's eye and began cutting swathes through the undead hordes. As MK reluctantly fell back along with the others, only one person was moving forward - a hoverchair-bound Knight of Ren. The process didn't seem intentional, as [member="Wolf"] seemed to brace himself as he moved head-first into the mass of undead. A hoverchair malfunction, perhaps?

"We can't fall back."

MK uttered his personal realization practically to himself, not realizing that the others in his squad could still hear him. Apparently he wasn't alone, as [member="Halcyon Greenslade"] didn't seem to have any intention of retreating either. MK cocked his blaster rifle.

"We're far too outnumbered," The whisper of another Stormtrooper in his squad came through his helmet comm system.

MK-1488 gripped his blaster rifle tighter. "I prefer to call it a target-rich environment."

The Stormtrooper then charged forward, unleashing a blizzard of blaster fire upon the masses of undead. Rushing towards Wolf's position, he blasted an incoming undead creature in the head, before ramming the butt of his rifle into the head of another, just as it loomed over the Knight of Ren.

 

[Asharad Graush]

[member="Darell Irani"]

Location: Red Nebula
People of Interest: [member="Darell Irani"]
Post Five.

They were within the structure.

When A'sharad disembarked, he was greeted by an attendant from Iron Crown. Naturally, they'd guide him along the path to the office he was supposed to be in, but not before he told his pilot to keep the ship running. A'sharad didn't want to be there any longer than he had to.

The door opened and it admitted the Sith Colonel into the office, most likely.

Only a few things needed to be sorted on that day. Perhaps an exchange of products and licensing, perhaps many other things as well. A'sharad was unsure of what to think of the coming meeting.

 

[Sara Lee Jones]

[member="Thomas Kyrel"]

She got to the second checkpoint to see they had already gotten here to! She raised her blaster as she shook not wanting to fire, she couldn't pull the trigger at the horror before her, it was only when Thomas passed her, her hands fell as they cut the immediate ones down

She moved to the group as she gulped and got in a commanding posture and tone as she looked at them" alright as the highest active rank here currently" she said not knowing if she was out of line...." as the highest ranking here currently we need to get that emplacement ready to move and we need to slowly move back take your shots high, looks like we can hit their heads and more less instantly kill them

With that everyone started moving as she took quick shots trying to avoid hitting Thomas as she watched the zombies move closer and closer

Post 5

 

[Darth Veles]

Location: Abdicator
Objective: 3
[member="Wolf"], [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="MK-1488"], [member="Halcyon Greenslade"]


Still keeping his distance, dancing on elegant and certain steps to continuously stay away from the advancing undead, Darth Veles never stopped with his surprisingly effective telekinetic onslaught, too busy to stop Wolfgang’s hoverchair from racing past him right into the horde like a suicide driver. It was a strange sight, a man speeding to his doom in a blind charge. Bravery or foolishness? Did he want to go out in a blaze of glory, possibly in a fitting explosive dress?

“No… fool! Don’t get close…” It was of no use – Veles’ words got lost in a hail of blaster fire and screams, never standing a chance to reach their intended recipient in time.

Before the door closed, he had a split-second chance to dash through and join Wolfgang in his fight, add an irrelevant percentage to his chance of survival. But no; knowing all too well what Sithspawn and its cousins did to sentient body when as much as a drop of saliva touched it, the amphibious Sith Lord stayed back, telekinetic strikes of his lightsaber keeping the undead monstrosities at bay and buying the First Order’s soldiers precious seconds to take aim and fire. Then the door shut closed and with a click, the image of a disabled knight facing angry and hungry monstrosities disappeared inside, trapped between a thick wall of durasteel and walking corpses. A pointless sacrifice – worse yet, they now faced the possibility of facing an undead knight of Ren in the future. Veles would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about that.

Opening his palm again and letting the curved hilt fly free, guided by the Dark Side’s vengeful grip, the amphibious Sith wasted no time focused on slaying whatever had gotten into the hallway before its sealing. Unlike the stormtroopers rushing forward instead of picking off their targets one by one with long-range weaponry, Veles had stayed in the back – that way, he could strike at the zombies and decapitate one after another in clean cuts while the soldiers in front of him faced no obstacle and were free to unload each rifle’s energy cell. What the Mon Cal considered a tactical retreat also allowed a small victory; no more bodies to be added among the undead ranks. When the last zombie on this side fell, smoke rising from its chopped off head, momentary silence and reprieve befell the living numbers.

“Line up, reload and take aim,” Veles ordered, webbed hand grasping the freshly returned hilt firmly, “You will fire as soon as I open the door.”

Like a spider, his telekinetic touch crawled up to the door’s control panel and let it reveal the Ren's fate.

 

[OK-3103]

Meneer remained calm and immobile. Without moving he relied heavily on two of his senses and being a human, only one helped – and that was rudimentary at best.

But he used them none the less. Firstly, he smelled the air. There was the overwhelming tang of blood in the air. In fact, he could almost taste it. There was also the smell of rotten vegetation, which he presumed was the volume of leaves under his body and all around him. The trees were bare and in this part of the planet it was clearly late autumn.

Finding out little of interest or help, he switched to his hearing. It was not a human’s best sense, but it was better than hi olfactory organs at least. Except he heard nothing save the wind in the trees and the lifting of leaves in that breeze. Except his brain was trying to tell him something. So he closed his eyes and forced his brain to focus entirely on audio.

There was a breeze and leaves were blowing towards him, but some of that sound came from a different direction, and wind tended to travel in broadly straight lines. Whereas the majority of the noise was coming downwind, a consistent rustle was heading upwind. The sort of direction a predator might take.

His back was to the potential source of the noise. Should he turn and face it and risk exposing the fact he was alive and no longer paralysed. Or should he play dead – but risk being a sitting duck. Or should he run for it?

Decisions, decisions.

 

[Progflaw99]

With a sharp flick of his wrist, Rolf watched as a small clump of cream and hair deposited itself in the base of the small sink. Flipping on the hot water he ran the shimmering blade of the razor beneath the stream before raising it once more to his face. Just one more small patch and the right side of his face would be finished. Holding the edge of the blade against his skin, he began sliding it against the grain, slowly. Almost like rubbing two pieces of sandpaper together, a quiet scraping sound filled his ears as the straight razor went to work.

Halfway through an upward stroke his hand faltered as the piercing shriek of the ship's emergency alarms began to sound. *Kriffing Hell!* The usually steady hands of the Major had slipped just a hair as the alarms sounded causing him to nick himself along his upper cheekbone. Letting loose a small string of profanities he reached for a towel, the razor clattering into the bowl of the small sink. Pressing the white towel to his face he grimaced. Rolf had seen the small cut in the mirror. He'd certainly given himself worse cuts, but he could already see the blood starting to stain the small cloth he held to his face. Hesitantly he removed it, wincing as the pain began to spread. His cheek was on fire, surprising for how little of a cut it was. Dabbing away the blood quickly, Rolf set the towel on the edge of the sink, fishing out the razor and lying it on top. Now, to that alarm.

Turning on his heel, he moved back into his living space. *Feth.* His uniform was hung up in the small cabinet next to his bunk. If he was going to be forced into uniform half shaved, he'd better rinse off his face first. As he headed towards the sink, a loud thud sounded against the durasteel hatch at the entrance to his quarters. Rolf halted where he stood, his eyes snapping to the door. Another thump, this time louder. Something sounded like it was trying to get in. Trying to get in? What on earth would drive someone to hit the door rather than simply using the control pad in its frame? Quickly he retrieved the razor from the edge of the sink and made his way to the door. Tucking the razor behind his body as he approached the door, he prepared to open it. Rolf disgustedly looked down, he still hadn't put his boots on and his feet were starting to feel a chill. No time for that now, the thudding hadn't stopped. Reaching out to the control panel, he activated the hatch.

*Whoosh!*​

​

​

The hatch opened, a solitary figure lurching forward in a lunge at the First Order officer standing there. Armored arms reached forward, capturing Rolf in their grasp. He hadn't expected anything to come lurching in to his room. Frantically he stepped backwards, the razor in his hand coming up but not before the full weight of the armored figure crashed into him, sending the now entangled pair falling to the durasteel deck. Clattering across the floor, the razor rebounded off of the nightstand where it laid on the floor, blade half unfolded.

*Oomphh!*​

The wind was knocked from Rolf's lungs, his mind trying to grasp who or what had tackled him the moment he'd opened the door. Armored. It was the first thing he noticed as he brought his arms up to push the torso of his assailant away. Bringing his knees up as far as he could, his eyes finally beginning to understand at least a fraction of what was going on. It was a stormtrooper. At least, it used to be. Scrambling backwards he gained a few seconds as the figure pushed itself up lazily from the floor. What greeted Rolf's eyes horrified him.

The front half of the stormtrooper's helmet had been either smashed in or sheared off, blood trailing down the front of its dull white armor. A jagged and torn jaw clacked as the creature gnashed its teeth and reached forward, trying again to ensnare its prey in its arms. Rolf had managed to scramble backwards on hands and feet till he'd bumped into the nightstand by his bunk. Clumsily he grabbed for the half opened razor, snapping it open. Glancing downward he realized he too was now covered in blood, his white t-shirt and trunks now slick with a dark red crimson. Was any of it his? He didn't feel any pain... Before he could think any more the creature was upon him, trying to find a hand hold as it gnashed what teeth it had left. Rolf acted quickly, shutting out any other thoughts than survival.

Savagely he reached forward, grasping the helmet by its base and tore it from the creatures head. Releasing the shattered helmet he stabbed forward at the creature's bulging eyes. The creature's face.. It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Saggy and puffed up, dark splotches of skin appeared to be dead. The eyes were bloodshot, almost clouded over even. The part that disturbed him the most is that he knew that it used to be human. Whatever it was now... His thoughts were interrupted as the sharp edge of the razor pierced the creatures eye and sunk deeper into its skull, tearing sinew and muscle as he applied full force to the blade. Almost like a light switch had been turned off, the creature seized up and then went completely limp, the body falling loosely atop Rolf's legs. Horrified Rolf struggled free, the razor now stuck in the creature's eye socket, he released and scrambled to the other side of the room. The hatch to his quarters had closed automatically, thank the cosmic balance.

There he stood, panting. That had not been something he even remotely thought was a possibility. Re-animating the dead? Sure he'd heard of cloning, and some claimed the Ren might have a secret way to bring back the dead but this? It would explain the loud sirens wailing in the corridors. Hurriedly he stepped into the bathroom, watching the lifeless corpse sideways as he wiped what shaving cream he could from his face. If that creature had been in the corridor... no telling how many more there might be. As if to cement his query, another thump sounded on the hatch to his quarters. If the rest of the ship was invaded with these creatures, no telling how bad the situation was. He had gotten lucky with the eye trick. He needed to get dressed, but he wasn't going to bother getting into dress uniform at a time like this. Hell, he didn't even have boots on. The pounding on the door had gotten louder, it sounded now as if there were several of the creatures outside.. and.. growling? He needed to get out but his main avenue of escape was blocked. An idea slowly began to form in his head.

Moving carefully around the lifeless body, Rolf retrieved a small holdout blaster, a lighter, and a 6 inch dagger from his nightstand. Grabbing his utility belt usually worn in uniform he clipped it around his waist, stuffing the blade into one of the pouches and holstering the small blaster pistol. Moving the nightstand around the body on the floor he lined up right beneath a small recessed ceiling panel. The maintenance shafts. As if to push him along, the door activated, a mass of bodies tumbling into his quarters.

"Ah, kriffing hell!" he exclaimed, reaching up and removing the panel. He let it drop to the floor.

Inside was a metal ladder, rungs climbing upward into the infrastructure of the ship. Reaching up he hoisted himself into the tunnel, grunting as his pulled his feet up into the recess. Just in time. As his toes cleared the entrance the creatures below came into view, clambering but unable to ascend to where he was. Panting as he caught his breath, he pulled out his lighter, spinning the striker and holding the flame in one hand as he pulled himself up the ladder. He hoped the climb wasn't too far to a place he could sit down and get his bearings.

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective: 1
First Order: [member="Orentho"]
Archangel: [member="Enyo Typhos"]
Post 5

((OOC: Sorry had a muse breakdown : / Recuperating still, lol, excuse the bad post!))


Enyo's release of information was cut short with the warning of a storm. His mind though froze on when she said 'my sister'. That's why. Both looked familiar as hell and the little glimpse he had while scrolling through some vague dossiers had been the reason why Enyo looked somewhat familiar. Did she have a twin ? Not really an important question but being a sister to the one who brought ruin to this planet was something that Jude was going to remember. Who the hell was Enyo Typhos ?

All these questions that sprang in his mind were for a different time and place. Especially with the upcoming storm and Orentho's suggestion never sounded better. Jude was not happy with how easily Orentho disclosed information but perhaps he was better prepared for this and most likely had previous dealings with Archangel. The blonde did not like being the least informed from the people he traveled with now to the shelter of the caves.

Or to whatever dangers lied within them.

He cursed his luck that the time for questioning more the sister of the destroyer of Gehenna had escaped him. The situation before the two First Order agents looked grim.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Orentho"], [member="Jude Falkrowe"]


Fortunately for them, they reached the cave. Just moments before the massive storm blazed across the desert with tremendous force, as if some sort of wrathful god saw fit to command the elements and give voice to his wroth.


Inside, the cave trembled and shuddered. "We must keep moving," Enyo urged, though her tone was as serene and emotionless as ever, dodging rocks that came tumbling down from above. Within moments, the entrance to the cave had been effectively sealed. Like it or not, they would have to find another way out at. Fortunately, Gehenna had an absurd amount of caves, catacombs and tunnels.


However, they were not alone. As she moved, Enyo cocked her head slightly, hearing noise coming from the shadows. The young Archangel operative sniffed. Then she heard screeches and chanting in a vile tongue. "Reavers," in a flash, her bolt pistol was in hand and she fired. There was a loud bang, she fired again and a monstrous creature dressed in black armour, with a mutilated face and a neckklace made of human teeth fell to the ground. She felt the beasts' primal fury and rage, soaking it up like a sponge to fuel herself.


Spinning around, she caught a javelin that was being tossed her way and fired again, blowing away a Reaver's knee. Within moments, the three had been swarmed by snarling, vicious warriors with glowing eyes and sharp teeth that resembled fangs. Their blood-splattered armour was decorated with macabre runes, while their weapons were alchemised.


The clone grit her teeth, when suddenly a vicious onslaught of Force Drain clutched at her heart. She could feel it trying to sap her life energy, strength and will. Mind worked over matter and she could follow the orange line to their source. Luckily, she did not just rely on the Force. She ducked to avoid a massive overhead blow delivered by a mace, before driving her lightsabre into its chest. As the orange tendrils pulled at her energy and a brutal telekinetic hammer slammed into her in an attempt to topple her, she produced a flashbang grenade and tossed it into the fray. Bright light filled the cave, and she leapt. Where the Force failed, her cybernetics did the trick, and she brought the sabre down to split the madman's skull in twain.


A Reaver lunged at her with his mighty great sword, seeking to cleave her in twain. She managed to turn the blade aside and riposted, slashing across his leg. But though injured, this only seemed to make the beast angrier and he came at her like an ox or a battering ram. In strength they were about equal, but Enyo was still unused to duelling and still getting used to her cybernetics.


Using his tremendous strength as he called upon the Dark Side, he knocked the blade out of her hand and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her up. Rather than gasp for oxygen, Enyo simply slammed her skull against his. It hurt both of them and damaged her visor, but the beast staggered, letting go of her. One of her robotic legs launched a savage kick that toppled him, then she suddenly seized the beast's skull and ripped its head off.

 

[MK-1488]

Post: 5
Objective: [Investigate unknown craft -> survive zombie onslaught]
Allies: [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Wolf"] [member="Rexus Wenck"] [member="Halcyon Greenslade"]

Perhaps charing forward had not been the best idea. MK could deal with plenty of the slow-moving undead with his blaster, but they were slowly beginning to overwhelm his position. He guarded [member="Wolf"] as best he could, but the Knight of Ren's proximity to the foray meant that he could not use any of his grenades, at the risk of killing the Knight as well.

MK took a few steps back. Then, the hydraulic creak of the doors beginning to close sounded audibly behind him. Was he about to be trapped in with the undead?

There was nothing left to do. MK dove for the exit, his white armor impacting against the floor just as the doors closed, merely inches behind his foot. Somewhere on the other side of those blast doors was the Knight of Ren. Whether he would survive or not was anyone's guess - but if anyone could do it, it would be a Ren. Perhaps he could find a way to escape through the ventilation system. MK hoped so - the thought of dealing with an undead Knight of Ren was beyond unsettling.

MK limped back towards [member="Darth Veles"] with a defeated slump, reloading his blaster rifle in the process. Once again, he took aim at the door.

"We have to get him out of there," He said. "We can't let them turn the Knight undead."

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Objective 1 (Maybe); Objective 3 (Probably)
Post 3/20
Location: Gehenna Surface

He was a friend.

Not that it mattered much, as far as the man could see, [member="Trenchcoat Man"] acted exactly the same. Always strange, always his mind slightly bend and curved at the wrong corners. Yet, yet, yet, yet Sardun could not say that without looking at himself - not a mirror, there wasn't a mirror in the red dunes and sandy gales - but look at himself regardless.

He didn't like what he saw, but when was that ever a surprise?

They walked, they stopped, the entered and then left the dinner after the man with the coat did his work. The symbols burned; he felt them, even if he couldn't feel them. The mind working wonders, or curses, whether you wanted it to or not. Hell, especially when you didn't want it to, it would rear its... heh... head.

"I see them now," Sardun responded after a while of looking. Just looking. The symbolized visor, the dust on the glass and the winds all around them made it difficult, but he saw them, aye.

What he saw was strange-- two men, white, black and bearded. Was this, too, symbolic? Life had become strange the moment the Trenchcoat Man had entered it, bringing with him a taste of something different.

"Looks to me they should be dead." Eyebrow quirked as he noticed the two figures seemed to be in an animated discussion; one of them was pulling a sack with him, the weight leaving a thick trail through the sand and hot stony underfloor. The other one - the black one - was holding it easily over his shoulder.

Power over substance? Maybe.

"You want to investigate or move on?" Didn't matter much to him. This was a favor to the mutual friends of the world, to their supposed friendship, favors all around. His stake was little.

 

[Wolf]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YaKbXVmlGv4&index=82&list=PL53A68373E9AC84A1​

Post 5
Objective 3
Location: Imperial-X Star Destroyer Abdicator
[member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Thomas Kyrel"] | [member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="MK-1488"] | [member="Halcyon Greenslade"]

The Knight of Ren growled in desperation, his arms moving back and forth as his crimson blade severed limb from joint, and head from shoulders. The undead groaned and lurched at him, the young man wildly spinning on his chair to fend them off, grimacing as he was covered by their putrid blood and pus. He was glad to find one of the troopers [ [member="MK-1488"] ] charge forward to provide him with support, valiantly dispatching one as Wolf's back was turned and was nearly taken by surprise by one of the undead.

Wolf reached out to the Force as he fought, the only thing that could possibly provide him with the senses and reflexes necessary to survive this. The number of them was staggering, he was surrounded by them, and he sensed the trooper begin to fall back. There was nothing more the trooper could do, and Wolf could not blame him, nor did he want to see anyone harmed for his own foolishness. Would his end come now, at the hands of these ghoulish creatures? He had heard enough stories, and from the ones garbed in stormtrooper gear could figure out what his potential end may be. Would he be turned into one of these creatures? He shuddered to think what would happen if he too turned into one of them, and the further danger that the others would be in. This was not a risk he could be willing to take.

As Wolf was left alone with the creatures, it soon became apparent that he was being overwhelmed. The sheer number of them was unassailable, and he cried out as he felt something from behind him pull the hoverchair. One of the undead had grabbed a hold of it, pulling it from him and tipping it, Wolf falling to the ground helplessly. Rolling onto his back he frantically swiped the blade back and forth as ghoulish faces looked down at him, rotting flesh and bloodshot eyes fixed on their new victim. Wolf could not allow himself to be changed into one of them, it was too much a danger for the others. Swearing under his breath, he realised this was his final moment to act before one of the creatures would break through his defences. He began to turn the lightsaber towards himself, to cut through his own neck and end their chances of inducting him into their horde. His crimson blade would not reach its intended destination however, as the undead seemed to recognise what he was trying to do, and lunged atop him at once. He cried out in agony, his last memory being one of pain.

----------------

The blast doors slowly opened again at Darth Veles' telekinetic touch to reveal... darkness. The metal corridor ahead of them was shrouded in shadow, the lights had been... blown out? By whom? Surely these foul creatures were not intelligent enough to blow out lights. Indeed, the Knight of Ren must have managed to come up with some ingenious method of escape, disorienting the undead by shrouding them in darkness and making his getaway. There was clearly movement in the shadows ahead, the horde of undead were still there. But they stood still, unmoving. And then there was a sound.

Snap-hiss.

The red glow of a crimson blade. A hooded figure stood in front of the horde, facing those who looked in. The blade illuminated his face to show bloodshot eyes, his expression a permanent grimace as saliva dripped down his bearded chin and onto the ground.

He moved at once. He was not slow and limbering like the others. No, the undead Knight of Ren leapt forward, sprinting out from the shadows at frightening pace among the hail of blaster fire that would inevitably come. The undead horde followed, the foul creatures moving at increased speed as they sought out more victims to turn. Wolfgang Krieger was now able to use his legs once more, though perhaps this was not the way he had intended. His hungry eyes focussed on the Mon Calamari, [member="Darth Veles"], the undead Knight snarling as he leapt forward, closing the distance between himself and the Sith Lord, his right arm coming around and swinging his crimson blade fiercely into the Sith Lord's side, his mid-section.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Objective 3
Location: Red Nebula
Allies: First Order and friends
Enemies: Zombies
People of interest: [member="Tanomas Graf"]
Post: 7/25

"No response, captain"

"Did the zombies eat up their communications arrays?"

"The tactical display won't display every subsystem in real-time"

"Status report"

"Navicomputer operational, all status go" the neophyte told Dunames, after his return from meditation.

After the debacle caused by the neophyte, that caused the Ultima to be trapped in the Red Nebula, they had to prepare to get out of the Nebula and continue on their original route out of the place. Hopefully the FIV Abdicator would be able to make do without the assistance of Star Tours. Dunames was nervous - she hoped that the neophyte would be able to use a navicomputer properly, in which case Dunames would have to tell him no instinctive astrogation. But Dunames watched because she learned the hard way what a neophyte in instinctive astrogation can do for a ship: stranding it out of position. Poor Dunames: she hoped that the Ultima won't end up somewhere like Quintas or the Dead Nebula... that would be a nightmare to her, in which case she will probably have to take the neophyte's seat on the bridge. As she watches nervously the communications console and the pilot's console...

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Post VI
Objective III: Investigate distress signal
Allies: [member="Basileus Isauros"] | [member="Zee"] | [member="Erich Arnstein"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Wolf"] | [member="Jaron Lesan"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Thomas Kyrel"] | [member="Iroatas"] | [member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="MK-1488"] | [member="Halcyon Greenslade"]

Horror was plastered on the faces of the entire bridge crew as most of the ship was being overrun and even a Knight of Ren had fallen, except for the old admiral. Admiral Graf's back was turned to the crew, staring out of the viewports he muttered in a cracked voice "This ship, she has served in more battles than most star destroyers in the navy. She was the first of her kind, the prototype IDX. People have died to save her, and now she will die to save us.". He shuffled around and hunched himself over the command console, with the first and second officers beside him.

"This is Admiral Graf. Destruct sequence 1, code 1-1 A." Tanomas said, "This is Commander Dyarron. Destruct sequence 2, code 1-1 A2-B." The first officer followed. The second officer finished with "This is Lieutenant Pavish. Destruct sequence 3, code 1 B-2B-3.". Text appeared on the screen 'Destruct sequence completed and engaged. Awaiting final code for ten minute countdown.'. A faint note of sadness trailed Graf's voice as he stated "Code zero zero zero. Destruct. Zero.".

The deep klaxon was replaced with a much higher one as the admiral's voice once against boomed throughout the entire ship "Attention, attention. All personnel abandon ship. I repeat, all personnel abandon ship, the auto-destruct sequence has been activated. Get to the main hangar bay or hundreds of escape pods scattered around the ship. You have ten minutes. May the Supreme Leader guide us."

The admiral disappeared into his quarters, leaving the bridge crew to retrieve all of the valuable data until loud thumping could be heard on the blast door of the bridge. The undead shuffled through the forced door as armed bridge guards fumbled with their power packs. The corpses ever so slowly neared the frightened bridge crew until dozens of repeated blasts came from the other side, tearing through everything in their path. Admiral Graf sauntered out of his quarters, fully armed with a heavy repeating blaster and thick stormtrooper armor and he had a bone to pick with these undead.

Soon the entire bridge had been cleared by the old man, and the remaining crew rushed into the escape pods placed strategically outside of the bridge. Once they were all seated an armed guard yelled at the admiral to get inside or he'd force him to. Tanomas chuckled at the young ones ferocity and pushed him back into his seat, closing the hatch and launching it, staring through his visor as they jolted into the void of space, that bridge guard was definitely getting a promotion later.

Graf turned back and left the bridge, clearing all in his path but it was hopeless, the Abdicator was overrun. He used his helmets comms to send a message to any on the frequency "If you can hear me, [member="Darth Veles"]. You need to retrieve the undead Knight of Ren, it's a lot to ask but he may be the only way of curing our recently deceased brethren, try not to damage him too much, the brain I mean."

 

[Basileus Isauros]

Objective: 3
[member="Tanomas Graf"]

[At time outbreak]

"Whatever those are, they are breaching quarantine procedures. Quick to the shuttle, I want to say that I left this nebula alive. Whatever value I could get out of this is not worth the risk. Pilot, take us out of the ship, send a message to the Excubitore to send transport shuttles and a fighter escort to meet at a mid point between the Star Destroyers and await further orders."

Listening into the communications, Basileus felt helpless. He did not want to risk his crew or himself at this time. Risking his crew could result in shipwide death, if he didn't risk anything he could be punished by Command.'

He heard screams and shouts about an infection. Guilt began to gnaw at him.

[When the Comms are cut]

"Damn it! No signal? They must have cut the communications array, shuttle 1 land in any open hangar. We need eyes on the inside, using our own comms."

After the shuttle has landed, Basileus attempted to hail the Admiral. Escape pods had begun to shoot off away from the Star Destroyer.

"Admiral Graf, I have attempted communications and failed. My Star Destroyer is at your disposal and I have transports ready to ferry any clean survivors. I see escape pods, so the situation seems to be most dire. We will perform scans on each pod before we collect them."

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Post: VI
Objective III
Ion Battery D-23 of Imperial-X Star Destroyer Abdicator

Rexus grimaced as he watched another gunner be torn up by the horde. His original unit had fallen back from their position after their E-webs overheated. The dead were too close, there was no karking way they could have held the position. One by one, the group had been eaten, till Rexus rendezvoused with some junior technicians, lightly armed and terrified. The group had fled from their post at sensor array Piett to the starboard trench of the Abdicator at the fore of the ship. Now Rexus and his men had run out of time.

He stood, backing up to the gun while the other technicians and lost stomrtroopers backed up to the gun. The youngest technician, about 17, was openly weeping. The lieutenant bit his lower lip, "Run," he gestured to the nearby ammo dispensiry. It sat just behind a large horde of two dozen or so reanimated corpses shambled towards it, cutting them off to the dispensiary. As most star destroyer batteries worked, they had a vent which dropped energy cartridges to charge weapons. In battles, they were constantly dropping the heavy metal cylinders down a shaft. However, with the lack of fire, they were empty, hopefully able to let some of the group to crawl through.

"Sir, there's no way, we hold this, and we die!" A sergeant said, defiant to the end.

"How are we going to get there?" One of the gunners asked, not willing to follow the line of his superior.

"I'll hold them off," Rexus commanded, snapping a fire extinguisher from the wall, and brandishing it. The growls of the dead were becoming larger and more defined.

Rexus bit his lip below the helmet, and charged into the horde, smacking the walking dead down to the ground, trying to make a gap. Blood squirted from snapped and cracked limbs as the extinguisher was swung. He was successful, at least partially, and the recently converted seemed to back away. "Move! Karking move!"

The small band needed no extra help in deciding where to go, and ran. Even the sergeant abandoned his post. Rexus grunted as he fought the group, he was fortunate in the way the extinguishers balancing made it similar to the riot batons used by the Stormtrooper Corps. It felt more satisfying the electrical jolts given by the other model. The lieutenant was careful as he felt made sure to manoeuvre so his flank wasn't compromised. That's when the klaxon began, it didn't hit till the announcement played, telling the trooper that it was time to move.

Rather than wait, Rexus steadily backed up to the doorway to the ion battery, and threw his makeshift weapon at them, before blasting it with his combat pistol. The pressurised tank of the extinguisher, exploded and sent the horde stumbling, showered in flames that began to cleave flesh from bone, and meld stormtrooper armour to their joints. Satisfied that he'd held them off, Rexus turned tail and ran back to ground zero, the main hangar, hoping that those he'd been with were one their way to safety. He heard someone yammer away about some bloke named [member="Darth Veles"], and felt bad for the poor sucker who'd have to fight a zombified Knight of Ren.

Rexus was rather lucky in a sense, the horde of shambling corpses had moved drastically quickly, but unlike an invading force, hadn't left anyone to obstruct those wishing to outflank. With a calculated three minutes to go, an out of breath Rexus looked around the hangar for survivors, or anyone with a ship. When he couldn't find anyone, or any ship he could pilot, he looked for the fastest thing her could find. A TIE fighter. He couldn't fly that either to be honest, but the TIE jockeys had taught him a thing or two during his time garrisoning star destroyers and space ports. He climbed the rack, and settled himself in the fighter, strapping himself in, and immediately dropping the fighter from its storage rack. He didn't care about warming the engines, or prepping the life support systems. There was one thing, and one thing only on his mind. Survival.

[member="Tanomas Graf"]

 

[Darth Veles]

Location: Abdicator
Objective: 3
[member="Wolf"], [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="MK-1488"], [member="Halcyon Greenslade"]


“Don’t worry,” spoke the Sith Lord with his characteristically smooth voice while a menacing screech of the opening door urged everyone on this side to get ready, “We’ll get him back.”

Confidence and strength alike resonated throughout his tone, putting back together the hope they had lost during the initial massacre, brick by brick until he built a solid wall to for their morale to lean against.

His words were meant for all in the First Order’s service. By the end, each and every man and woman would be back, hopefully either alive or dead and not anything in between. Watching the slowly expanding space between the blood covered floor and the moving door and feeling thick tension rolling off of the soldiers that surrounded him, Veles silently counted down seconds while staring into the gaping hole filled with a suspicious lack of movement, a black abyss leading to dimension of horrors. The Sith Lord did not understand; he had not encountered such passive behaviour from the miserable Croa, their constant charges against the enemy starkly contrasting with what he saw now. As such, when his own crimson beacon received a reply in kind, Veles’ expression remained stone cold – only his amber eyes broke the serene mask and gave a split-second flash of shock. Then his allies opened fire, filling the hallway in red lights nicely fitting his lightsaber’s crimson plasma blade.

Many possibilities and scenarios raced through Darth Veles’ big head. But how intelligent were the undead, really? What to expect from the turned Ren? Could it use the Force, effectively fight with his lightsaber, use the man’s memories to its advantage? In that moment, Veles regretted not having a proper Jedi covering his back – Force Light supposedly worked wonders on Sithspawn. Corvus immediately came to mind, her innate knowledge of Jedi techniques that would forever evade his grasp. Reliant only on his own abilities, Veles swiftly braced himself as the Ren’s no longer crippled figure stepped into the light, confirming the Sith Lord’s worries. Worse yet – it appeared to be leading the horde. When whatever remained of the Ren launched itself across the hallway, Veles took an instinctive dive back, narrowly avoiding the knight’s strike in a perfect show of Makashi’s famed footwork.

Another quick, automatic step to bring him further away.

A single flick of his wrist brought Veles’ lightsaber up, filling the distance between himself and Wolfgang’s body and its tip pointing straight at the infected human’s chest. How would the undead deal with superior reach? But no, the amphibious Sith wasn’t going to wait and find out – a retaliation immediately followed when Veles lunged forward in a feinted strike going for Wolfgang’s chest, only to suddenly sink sideways and turn into a vicious cut meant for the man’s saber hand. It was then that the fresh announcement reached his ear canals, prompting the Sith to act with haste if he wanted to live. Fortunately for him, the Dark Side of the Force reached its peak among all the death, creating a source of energy to be used and abused by those who knew how. A brief moment of focus and mental preparation and the Mon Cal raised his free hand, letting it malevolently hover in the air for a second before unleashing a shimmering torrent of pure Dark Side energy right at Wolfgang.

“Abandon the ship!” Veles barked over the sound of blaster fire and horror, his own pace steadily retreating towards the nearest hallway filled with escape pods.

 

[Jaster Awaud]

Post 2
Objective 3
Allies: [member="Basileus Isauros "]| [member="Zee"] | [member="Erich Arnstein"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Wolf"] | [member="Jaron Lesan"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Thomas Kyrel"] | [member="Iroatas"] | [member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="MK-1488"] | [member="Halcyon Greenslade"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]

The odd looking Star Destroyer made its way though the Nebula, slowly crawling through the field filled with large rocks and debris. It's shields occasionally flickered as the debri bounced off the ship and even invisibility objects to the naked eye. Jaster had navigated hundreds of nebulas in his day navigating and mapping the Unknown Region. He and his crew were well trained for these types of missions, and stayed concentrated on the mission.

Jaster stood on the bridge, looking in the direction the ships were. The was until an alarm rang from the Sensor Officers station, it rang just in the bridge, and still everyone was calm. They readily went to their stations and readied up whatever they were assigned. Jaster turned to make eyes contact with the saluting officer, "Sir, it seems there is a buildup of energy coming from the Mark 10 Imperials star Destroyer." The officer then went to attention and turned back to his station, Jaster didn't need to say a word.

It seemed that the infection has spreader, those damed imperials had to go and poke their noses in everything. The ship must be overran with all kinds of undead running around the ship. The captain must have set a self distribution code to protect his crew and possibly the Galaxy. Jaster needed to get there before the last of the virus was eradicated. "Turn the IFF transmitter back on, place this message on repeat, 'This is the Imperial Diplomatic Vessel Negotiating, we are inbound to you location for assistance, stand by.' " Jaster then turned to the Engineering Officer, "I want all power to engines and frontal shields, place all systems on minimal power usage, helmsman full speed head, navigation, give me a hole."

They were now only 20 min out.