In Case of Emergency (Galactic Alliance Dominion of Thyferra)

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Objective B: Help assist removal of slaving rings and root out criminal groups
Allies: [member="Chevu Visz"], reluctantly [member="Coren Starchaser"] (unless he tries to shoot me)
Location: Thyferra
[3/20]

As much as he sensed a lack of trust in Coren, his own trust in Chevu was more than double that. And Gabriel wasn't acting psychotic or deranged, so maybe that would help his case somewhere along the way. The verdict was still out on it, jury hopelessly deadlocked. As she reassured him, he merely smiled halfheartedly and nodded. He had been shot before, numerous times if he could recall it. But for the fact that he didn't like the feeling of it, so long as it didn't hit anything vital, he'd be fine. Pain was merely a fleeting fancy, quickly overcome with a stalwart mind. Or so he told himself, reassuring himself while analyzing the prospect of being shot.

As he walked with Chevu, he gave Coren the space he apparently needed. How the times had changed from the biodome to this, being told of protection and later being the target for practice, he wasn't sure. Seems he wasn't the asset at the table that he thought he might be, despite what knowledge he brought to said table. Finding a spot at the other end of the bar, Gabriel sat down and tapped the enamel.

"Water please. No ice."

The bartender nodded and prepared it quick enough. Gabriel had avoided alcohol. It led to betrayal but even more so, it clouded the mind and weakened the prospect of sound judgment. No one was immune to it and those who claimed otherwise were simply victimized. As he sat and sipped his water, he opened his mind and his ears. He was waiting to hear something suspicious and even more so, was waiting for someone to pull a blaster on him.

 

[Tilda Sai]

Objective: Objective C: Stop pirates from hijacking bacta supplies
Location: Omega Pyre Defense Task Force -- The Argent
Allies: Galactic Alliance [member="James Justice"] [member="Kaia Starchaser"] [member="Sophia Walsh"] [member="Dex Bastion"]
Enemies: Dem evil folks
3/20

"We got movement in Vector Two and Three," Commander Od'Manteiv spoke through all Omega Pyre and Galactic Alliance channels. The things were pushing hot out there in the black, and Anika was there to provide support and coordination.

[ All Omega Pyre forces, we have incoming starfighter squadrons up ahead in vector ... ] gold eyes would flash to steel, [ Two and Three. ] a whir of movement would pass around the bridge of the Argent, various Omega Pyre officers of its naval forces busy in their stations.

Sensor readouts said that where ever they were coming from, something big was out there.

 

[Jannik Morlandt]

Objective D: Overwatch, of sorts. Presently pursuant to Objective A.
Location: Irrelevant - somewhere central
Allies: [member="Felicity Mason"] | [member="Aeron Kreelan"]
Post: 2/20

"Good."

Seeing her comfort in this place, unsuited for the princess she was supposed to be, how she seemed so free, made a thin smile form on his lips. He walked back to the centre of the rooftop, beckoning her to follow. This wasn't something he had ever done as a padawan, but as it turned out, he hadn't needed to be on the same world, much less the same system - he had been getting a view on current events from clear across the galaxy, and the why of it was stranger still than the occurrence.

"Have a seat," he said, "cross-legged, lotus, or seiza, whatever is most comfortable."

For their purposes, it wouldn't do to have her toppling over, which was still a very current risk. He gestured to a spot on the smooth roof, no specific spot, just a general suggestion.

"What we're going to do involves putting yourself in communion with the Force," he explained, while she got herself comfortable, "and dipping your metaphorical toes into the woven river of time and the Force on purpose."

Oh, the wariness he felt when learning this from Master Erinyes Draclau. He would understand if the young woman with him now felt anything of that sort when faced with potentially bringing on by choice what neither of them truly had no control over. This was necessary, for several reasons.

 

[Felicity Mason]

The girl followed and sat without question. What were they going to do today? Meditate? Like her brother always had her do? Maybe try to move things? She was useless at that, honestly.

Her entire body went stiff at his suggestion. She was afraid again. He wanted her to open herself up. He wanted her to have a vision. Intentionally. Knowing what it did to her.

"I... don't know if I can do that. What if I pass out again?"

[member="Jannik Morlandt"]

 

[Sophia Walsh]

Objective: Negotiate with Pirates?!? Sure, aggressively
Location: Smaller moon of Thyferra
Allies: [member="Kaia Starchaser"] [member="Dex Bastion"] [member="James Justice"]
Enemies: Pirates --- Rawr!
3/20

"I asked one simple question and you tell me to back off? I don't think so. You state your business or I'll be forced to use drastic measures." This wasn't the Navy anymore she she didn't have to be all proper. She would get what she wanted. The hard way if she had to.

Sophia groaned to herself as he called her master. It was a title that she would need to get used to though she much rather be called Captain or just plan Sophia. The young woman understood the need for order so it was something she would stomach just like her robes.

Upon hearing shots fired Sophia jumped up from her seat knocking the comm link on the floor. She hadn't coordinated her plans with James so he didn't know she was trying to negotiate. Cursing slightly to herself she looked up from her control panel to see what she feared.

Before she was able to take action her comm link began to crackle before a few inaudible words were spoken. Sophia may not have been able to understand what they were saying but she could tell they were pissed.

Fingers quickly flew across the control panel firing up her weapons. She needed to blast this little Corrovette out of the sky before it could get to her.

As the turrets were released flying towards the enemy ship Sophia saw a few coming her way which she masterly swerved out of the way of. She hasn't flown up the ranks for nothing. Turning getting ready to strike again she noticed her shots had hit the hull but not enough to stop them. These she would have to make count and later she would need to tighten up her skills. She was getting rusty.

"I'm good, maybe focus on the other ship? I've got a clean shot on this one."

 

[The Angry Cheese]

(( Ignore my previous post. I'm redoing my intro. ))

On the smaller moon of Thyferra, it was chaos, as usual. The Galactic Alliance had found the pirates, and immediately launched an assault against them. While Tracinya does appreciate some of the pressure being taken off of him, he is slightly worried that they may mistake him for a pirate or some other enemy, and try to kill him. That would ruin business, which he couldn't allow.

Thus, as he tosses another thermal detonator at a group of pirates that had him pinned down, he mentally conjured up a plan that would be used in case he came to blows with the GA. Of course, its unlikely to happen, it doesn't hurt to be prepared.

"Come and get some, aruetiise!"

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: B
Allies: [member="Ylvaris Desman"]
Location: City

Rook was not deploying with an established force today. He and his brother were here to test the new armor they had been provided, and to wipe out the detritus that had gathered in this city's lower levels. There would be no mercy today; only retribution. The armor was massive, bulky, and run on hydraulics rather than man power. In general, it was a vast improvement over the Mark-II series, with the drawback of its immense size. Not that Rook cared much about that.

The slavers would run, but they would not get very far. Armed with his Deece, the soldier made his way toward one of the many cantinas known for illicit activities: sentient trafficking, prostitution, and spice sales just to name a few. None of these people deserved to live, and the Dreadguard would be dishing out the pain as it was needed. The cantina was drawing close; people were staring.

Rook cast Kelgast a look.

"The slavers and their partners will show up on your HUD. This is not an arrest. Kill them all. We need to make an example of them," he paused, "It's good to have you with me on this."

 

[Jannik Morlandt]

Objective D: Overwatch, of sorts. Presently pursuant to Objective A.
Location: Irrelevant - somewhere central
Allies: [member="Felicity Mason"]
Post: 3/20

He smiled.

"That's part of why I'm having you sit, Felicity," he said, if a bit firmly, "if you remember, visions are uncontrollable. You can't make them happen. No, what we're getting at today is something called farsight. This gains us vague impressions of what may happen or what has already happened, at other places and times. These aren't visions, per se, but more like possibilities, close predictions. This is a skill that will help you manage what happens when you have those visions, so you can better react, and better focus when they occur - an example being that with enough practice, enough experience, you could predict an opponent's moves in a fight."

His expression took on a grim touch, at the memory of how he was, when in her shoes. He laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"And you will need to practice. Yes, there's an insignificantly small risk that this could trigger a vision, but... I used to be right where you are, maybe I'll tell you about it sometime. Trust me when I say that it will get better."

He released her shoulder.

"Now, I ask again: are you ready?"

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: B

Allies: [member="Rook"]

Location: City

Power is what the two brothers of war wielded, forged by their will and tested by the petty whims of the accused. These slavers were in for something they wouldn't soon forget. The Dreadguard were here to demonstrate a brutality unlike any other in the galaxy, a strength of arm and fist that would knock loose the rotted teeth of the corrupt. There was hell to pay for the debts of flesh, the abuse of addiction, and the moral bankruptcy. If these slavers had mouths to feed, they would come to find their pockets empty and their blood to be spattered on the canvas which is the dirt.

Kelghast looked to Rook.

"Their deaths are but a sign of natural selection. There is no place for insects."

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: Purge the unclean
Allies: [member="Ylvaris Desman"]
Post: 2/20
The Commander could not help but bark a laugh at his brother's words. The man had grown in his isolation. Kelghast had always been a warrior; one few others in the galaxy could hope to match. The Dreadguard were a people of conflict. What had started as a simple military legion had grown into a culture all its own, one rightfully feared by those that would bring about destruction and sin to the rest of the galaxy. Today the slavers. Tommorrow the Architects. The day after that? The Dark Lord of the Sith. There were none that could stand against their united might, even if only a handful remained.

That would not be the case for very long.

"You've certainly grown callous," he chuckled, "But you aren't wrong. I have your back brother."

The cantina doors slid open. Few paid them much attention, until they caught sight of the charged weapons in their hands. The bartender stood up from behind the counter.

"You can't bring those weapons in here."

"I am Commander Rook of the Galactic Alliance. This is my brother, Ylvaris Desman. We've come for your criminals. If you've not done anything wrong, then you've nothing to fear."

"Don't make a mess in my bar!"

"The Alliance will compensate you for the damages."

The bartender parted his lips to say more, but a shake of Rook's head brought him to silence. The commander turned about to survey the terrified populace. A number of those present showed up as members of the slave trade. Four to be exact, as well as three known spice dealers.

Without so much as a word, Rook's deece barked at the closest slaver. The woman's mouth parted in surprise as she fell back with a smoking hole for her head. Most people went for cover. The criminals either tried to flee, or opened fire.

With a hard smile, Rook opened up on the marked targets.

"Let's test this new kit, Kelghast!"

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: Purge

Allies: [member="Rook"]

Post: 2/20

The Netherworld did wonders on the mind and the body. Hardened by hell itself into a man of cold calculations and understanding; however, to understand is to once have been, and now as a man of authority, there was little need to reflect on a past life of shame and soiled humanity. There was no need to think of dignity or stress, only the death of memories and the current butchering of the lowest scum only worthy of a barrel to the dome.

"Let's test this new kit, Kelghast!"

The games were on. In silence, the Dreadguard MK. 2 opened fire upon those that had condemned themselves. Kelghast wondered slightly about how they must have felt as soon as they heard the click of weaponry, the sudden release of fear mixed with the soul possibly wanting to cling to its filthy, perverted husk. Whatever afterlife they chose to believe in was faulty and nullified. The reapers were here to take what was owed in blood.

A burst of rounds caught a grouping of the criminals and tore into their flesh like melted butter, their innards and plasma painting the walls of the cantina and leaving their corpses gaping with wounds that would leave evidence for all others. Evidence that would leave a clear warning and message to not be on the Dreadguard's bad side.

What could be more poetic than personified filth being scrubbed away by bullets? Nothing.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: Purge

Location: City's cantinas

Allies: [member="Ylvaris Desman"]

I am not a good man.

The woman fell into a heap before him. She was young, around Rook's age, and had a datapad clutched close to her chest. The blaster round had gone through her scalp and out the back of her head. She'd died instantly. The bartender was on the hiding behind the railing, staring over the side with wide eyes. The slavers, spice dealers, and their goons lay dead at the soldiers' feet. It was a fate they must have known was coming to them eventually. It just happened to arrive a little sooner than one might have expect.

Shrugging, Rook reached down to examine the woman's datapad. "She sent a message to her boss," he growled, "Nikto by the name of Rishad. Two blocks down. He has a warehouse to himself. They're getting ready to move their supplies."

The commander tossed a credit chip with a particularly large denomination to the bartender. The man caught it with a shaky hand.

"Their product. It's slaves. Change out the magazine, Kelghast, these poor sods will be expecting us."

With that, the armored warlord turned toward the doors, and strode outward like some kind of violent god. This new armor certainly had a special kind of effect, to be sure.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: Purge

Location: City

Allies: [member="Rook"]

The deed was done for now. The bodies lay motionless and everyone else in silence out of fear that they might anger these beings of judgement. There was nothing sacred here, nothing short of two judges silencing their jury so that they might save themselves the stupidity of speaking up. If any one of them talked, Kelghast would not hesitate to put a round straight through their skull. Any further interactions on their part would be deemed a threat and would be handled accordingly and swiftly. There was no Jedi here to "talk" things over and teach a lesson, for the lecture of gunfire was by far more superior in discipline.

Kelghast was merely a ghost here, a phantom come to shadow his brother and orchestrate a masterpiece in perfect harmony and unity. They were one and the same when it came to bloodshed. It was their art, their bittersweet song to the ears of their doomed audience.

It was time for a finale. Kelghast changed his magazine, tossing it away over his shoulder as he followed Rook.

"If only I could take them with me back to hell. They have not seen filth as I have."

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: Purge (Objective B )

Location: City cantinas

Allies: [member="Ylvaris Desman"]

Kelghast understood hell. Together with their brothers, the two had dropped into the mouth of Netherworld itself. There they had torn apart any who stood in their way, for that was what Dreadguard did: they fought. They fought and they won every time. Failure was not an option, not then, and certainly not today. Two Dreadguard could do more than a platoon of men, or so Rook had always been taught. His was a station of great responsibility, and one he held with pride. There were few who could match the tenacity with which he struck at the enemies of 'good', however that might be deemed at the time.

Rishad would come to understand that shortly.

Still, Rook could not help but find himself a bit worried with Kelghast's behavior. The lad had been quite cheery when he was lost to the Netherworld. Things had occurred to change that -- things Rook fully intended to inquire about once they were not being shot at by criminals.

"Not even the Sith could claim to have witnessed the horrors we have faced brother," he came to a stop outside the warehouse. Surprisingly, no one was taking potshots. He had a hunch that would change soon. "But-...Kelghast, you must understand, we're here to do good. We're soldiers, not warriors."

There is a difference.

He reached over to clap his comrade on the shoulder. "Think of the ship we'll be returning to after this. I hear there are going to be sweet rolls in the cafeteria this evening. If nothing else, fight for that." A hint of amusement laced his words, though it was partly worry. He turned to face the door, waiting to hear his brother's response before walking into another hellhole.

 

[Meeristali Peradun]

Objective B: Case the joint, kill time, wait for others
Location: Nameless Nightclub
Allies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Nubica Felidae"]
Enemies: Maybe. Maybe soon.
Post: 4/20

He had the most sociable part of the job, and it had required a little makeup. Something about his being the most charming in the unit - charm wouldn't be what he called it; animal magnetism (literally) was closer to the mark, and the eyes were a draw: wasn't every day folks saw orange ones, and after some early joshing with the other guys, it was known that he could play more than one side of the field. A field he wasn't even walking, and hadn't been for... well, how long had it been. He knew [member="Avalore Eden"] might get a laugh later upon hearing that they'd, for all intents and purposes, tried to pimp him out.

So he sat with some poor knock-off attempt at a Vaapad Lesson, not his first one, and the Force was definitely at play, here, while he played at shots with one of the patrons while ladies and gents watched, made bets, and took sides - yeah, he was cheating, in a way. The skill of detoxifying poisons in the body was the trick to not getting drunk. Handy, if you needed to. He knocked back the one in his hand while eye-flirting with a girl that stood behind his opponent who was progressively getting drunker, while his drunkenness was only an act. Shotglasses were slammed down on the bar counter, and fresh ones taken up again.

Hey, they said 'fit in', didn't they? He grinned at the other guy in challenge, and knocked back another shot, as the music thumped, the many danced, and none were the wiser.

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: Purge (Objective

Allies: [member="Rook"]

Location: City

There was hole here, but it's gone now. Filled to the brim with a new personality shaped by endless fear and panic that Kelghast experienced within the Netherworld. His soul was damned and what followed him out wasn't natural by any means. He had been marked and forever tainted by the foul winds that blow in hell, leaving its stink upon the conscious as a rotting of any purity left within. Kelghast was more or less dead to the material world and still very much a prisoner of the Netherworld's grasp. A grasp that tightened like a vise. Being a Dreadguard was in the man's DNA, but becoming a warrior was a trial he had surpassed on his own.

Kelghast looked at Rook as he put a hand on him. Silence loomed over the situation for but a brief moment before the changed Dreadguard spoke. "This world knows nothing. What he just accomplished was nothing compared to what I saw." He gently removed Rook's hand from his shoulder. "We are going to need to become something far more than soldiers to prepare ourselves for what secrets are in the darkness. Kill or be killed."

He pondered.

"Although I am quite hungry. We'll discuss this afterwards."

Hell is home. Hell is a place.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Objective: Purge
Allies: [member="Ylvaris Desman"]
Location: Warehouse
Post: 5/20

Ah, there it was. Just a bit of humor from the ruined man was enough. The slightest glimmer of hope grew within Rook. His brother was not lost, not entirely. There was damage to repair, of course, but such could be fixed. If there was one thing he had learned under the great old man, it was that love was something every man needed, even the bloodiest of tyrants. That was what his brother needed now, and Rook would provide it unconditionally.

The talk that would come with it would have to wait.

The High Lord turned toward the door, and tried the knob. It did not move, unsurprising. You would have to be a special kind of idiot to forget to lock the door. The thought made him crack an amused little grin as he blew the bolt apart with his Deece, and kicked the door inward.

Their breach was met with a roar of slugthrowers. His shields flickered as they crashed against his chest plate. Moving without thought, Rook slammed his back against one of the nearby crates, shielding him from further harm. The warehouse was two stories tall and filled with crates, warehouse equipment, and cages. From here, he could just barely make out the scantily clad forms of a few young men and women within the cages.

Slaves.

"Khelgast. Rotary cannon to our left." He gestured in the direction of the powerful weapon. It was spitting a long line of blue plasma at the two soldiers. Its gunner was whooping and hollering in Huttesse, while his allies waited for the two Dreadguard to pop out from their cover.

" I'll put power to my shields and sprint for another one of the crates. When they're distracted, you pop the gunner."

 

[Nubica Felidae]

[Post = 6/20]​

Objective: B
Location: On the streets
Allies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]
Enemies: Soon…

Nubica shrugged. “I’m just a Jedi. Plain and simple. Which works for me.” She had no expense account, she didn’t even have a bank account. She was wayward in many ways but she followed the Code implicitly — although her interpretation wasn’t always in accord with the majority.

So she held back, out of sight until called.

Once he returned, she took off her cloak and robes and quickly put the jump-suit on. She had no idea if it was fashionable or not. It was baggy, so she put her belt on and pulled it in around the waist. Then she found a deep pocket for her saber and stashed her Jedi clothes behind a pile of containers.


“Done,” she offered.

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

[member="Nubica Felidae"]
[member="Meeristali Peradun"]

“Right then,” he said, leading her away from the alleyway. “This is your ID,” he said, passing over a small plastic card. It has a small image of Jacen’s face in the corner and several official stamps imprinted across it. “They’re hardly likely to ask for ID at my age,” he said with a smile. In truth he had several other identity cards stashed in his pockets. “When you’re asked for it just flash it at the bouncer and I’ll do the rest. From a distance no one will notice that you’re not showing your own ID card, which is why we’re not using a blank piece of paper.

As they approached the venue the volume of music gradually increased. When the building came into view the bass thrummed through them from the floor. “We’re looking for two men and a vratix,” he said passing over a hand held data pad with a few images. “Look at that discretely, memorise them. When we get inside we’ll head for the bar and work out where the others are. Oh and smile, we’re here to have fun, obviously.”

 

[Nubica Felidae]

[Post = 7/20]​

Objective: B
Location: On the streets
Allies: [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Meeristali Peradun"]
Enemies: Soon…still

She took the card from him and wondered if he was being overly protective, patronising or just focused on his mission. She could perform a Mind Trick — but decided now was not the time to debate the issue.

She put it in another pocket — the jump-suit seemed full of them and more zips than any garment should have. She might fool a doorman, but she’d sure set off a metal detector.

Or she would, were it not for one of her particular skills.

Their destination was certainly loud. The pavement was vibrating with the music and she listened to her instructions. “Two men and a vratix,” she repeated. She glanced at the images and committed them to memory. She nodded at the plan and wondered if they’d encounter any death-stick dealers? No…probably not.

And she remembered to smile. Fun? She suspected that would start when they found the people they were looking for.