Hey There, Little Red Riding Hood [Imperial Remnant/Crinan Resistance]

[Beowoof]

They scattered, cloaked in the shadowy greens and browns of the forest they haunted, feet as swift and silent as they could be to quietly take position along the shelf of the bluff overlooking one of the roadways commonly used by the Empire to run supplies from the main colony of Rodica to one of their outlier bunkers.

A duo of similarly dressed figures finished burying some rather sinister-looking devices barely under the sand and chaff of the forest trail. As soon as the small black boxes they had plugged into the ground had been satisfactorily concealed, the two beings were gone--disappeared like ghosts, having dashed into the cover of the woods.

Jehanne v'Rodike, the witch, knelt behind a decaying log and prayed as she observed another pair of resistance fighters propping up a homemade mortar at the correct angle, frequently glancing through the camouflage netting they had positioned the heavy weapon behind. Olsen, the explosives man, had promised her the round was potent enough to penetrate through the plating of an AT-AW. Of course, they only had two shots, so it was best to not miss. Not that anyone intended to miss in the first place.

Distorted buzzes sounded every few minutes through the retrofitted comms earpieces the resistors wore. Scouts were positioned further down the road to alert the ambushing party if their prey was coming. Of course it was coming. Jehanne had foreseen it.

Yet, sweaty hands clutched tensely at the barrel of her stolen E-11 blaster. The waiting always gets to you. Hurry up, you polishbacks.

[member="Maximilian Vinticus"]

 

[Davin Jusik]

Wind rushed through Max's filters as he scanned the rushing treeline for anything amiss, from atop one of five emplacements his platoon had built. Each of which had a small group of troopers and two of which had heavy repeating blasters. There had been enough rebel activity recently for them to assign an Infantry platoon to guard the trains. Repeating blasters were periodically placed along the sides, with small pieces of armor welded in front of them. The few that weren't hunkered down behind some sort of cover patrolled in pairs, incase those in the observation points missed something.

He'd warned the men no to be lulled by the train's motion and the seeming serenity of the environment. A beautiful and largely untamed country. A perfect place for insurgents to hide. They were also relative unknowns to him, and very possibly his last command in the Corp, before they shoehorned him out.

The thought brought a grimace.

Though other doors had been opened.

He brought himself back from his wonderings to the task at hand.

[member="Jehanne"]

 

[Beowoof]

A pickup in the static tones transmitted to the resistance party indicated that the awaited train was approaching and only a couple minutes out. There was a scramble to final ambush positions as the cloaked militia sought out their final hiding places, some taking cover behind trees or setting up sniper perches in shallow ditches cut into the hill they lay on. Jehanne opened her eyes and pulled the hood over her head to cover the blond strands that would easily set her out from the colors of the earth.

Olsen busied himself next to her, combining the fluids to create homemade cocktail explosives, as was his usual task in these affairs. Glass bottles--usually spent bacta containers--were lined up against the log the pair were crouched behind, their contents a sour color the reminded Jehanne of urine, and the smell reminiscent of the odor projected from the Imperial textiles forges. Whether the liquids caused explosions or not, the witch was fairly certain she would not want to be the target of Olsen's assault.

The rumblings of a repulsor craft soon magnified itself as the train funneled into the narrow pass that the rebels had chosen to clog. Jehanne touched her trigger finger first to her forehead, then in succession to her eyelids in ritual, before gripping the standard automatic blaster rifle and raising it against her shoulder.

The cold morning air betrayed her breath before her as the vapor was momentarily visible. Blessings on this weapon, she prayed.

[member="Maximilian Vinticus"]