Never say Nether: Reclamation [Mandalorian Dominion of Bimmiel]

[Anastasia Rade]

Location: BBC-105 Mythosaur Super Carrier
Allies: Mando [member="Strider Garon"] @Azrael@Garrus Garon[member="Adenn Gra'tua"][member="Vilaz Munin"][member="Mac O Shenanigans"][member="Arla Balor"][member="Verz Horak"]@Titan@Anija Ordo[member="Oron Verd"][member="Werdla Dardalab"][member="Solan Charr"]
Objective: Get this party Started

With the orders given Ana turned to head to one of the dropods to strap in and head to the planet. They were losing time now just standing around it was time to get this party started. Grabbing her gear she headed to pod A to strap in and wait for others to join before she headed to go cause a disruption so that others could go after the actual leader. Every team had a very important role to play and in order for them to successfully take out the Vong they all had to play their part.

She was ready to go but now she had to play the waiting game for everyone else. Sighing Ana leaned her head against the pod as she waited checking for the millionth time her gear which was fine, you could never be to careful.

 

[Mac O Shenanigans]

Mac climbed into the drop pod with [member="Anastasia Rade"] smirking, "Nerves getting t'e best of you I take it?" He removed his claymore from his back before he sat in the seat opposite her and strapped himself in. Making sure his weapons were locked in well, he used a mag clamp to secure his sword to his thigh plates. His Buy'ce rested on top, and Mac tilted his head to each side, cracking his neck. His heartrate began to slowly climb as an eagerness crept over him. He never understood why, but medics said there was nothing wrong, and it was akin to thouroughbreds right before a race.

"So I guess we just go in and smas' the living 'ell out of t'ese Vong bastards t'en?"


[member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Azrael"] | [member="Garrus Garon"] | [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Verz Horak"] | [member="Titan"] | [member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Werdla Dardalab"] | [member="Solan Charr"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

BLAM.

That was the sound of a Vornskr Mark Eight Scattergun roaring in the dark, the sparks illuminated the shadowy hallways for a brief second before the shadows reclaimed their territory yet again. In the distance a soft mewing noise was perceptible, followed by the crunching sound of a body falling to the ground. A shuffle followed, as Hoath moved further into the cavern system- after the Mandalorians lost control of Blimmiel all kinds of shet invaded the planet.

Most of it would be dealt by the rest of the Mandos. But some shet is personal and had to be dealt with the old fashion way.

Had been a while since Mand’alore the Liberator had brought Hoath to the Mandalorians and in that time a lot had changed. The Butcher had taken up residence on Ziost with his guard, a small Clan for all intents and purposes, Clan Hoath; some wanted to call it. A joke mostly, but Serock liked the idea of it.

Didn’t like those Silver Jedi scum popping up though. But that would be dealt with a different time, in a different place.

The butt of his gun smashed into another cretin, teeth and blood splattered across the surface of the cave wall. Today would be a bloody day.

 

[Verz Horak]

[member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Azrael"] | [member="Garrus Garon"] | [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] | [member="Vilaz Munin"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] | [member="Titan"] | [member="Anija Ordo"] |
[member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Werdla Dardalab"] | [member="Solan Charr"]

Location: Mythosaur Class Supercarrier
Objective: Lead a strike force to crush the Vong

Verz walked past Azrael, standing where the troops below could see him. He addressed them, voice echoing through the hanger. "All right ner vode, I need some volunteers to come with me to strike at the Vong's stronghold. Their general is trying to take this planet away from us. You know what I say to that? I say, let's send them back to those gods they love so much! Anyone who wants to send their sorry shebs back to whatever hole they crawled out from, meet me at the drop deck!"

Satisfied that there would be a sizable group waiting for him, Verz turned and walked back towards Azrael. "Consider that Vong general dead, ner vod."

The warrior then left the Mand'alor behind, heading for the lift that would take him down to the drop deck. After the lift arrived at the deck, he smiled. There were already a few people gearing up for a drop. Verz made his way to the armory, ready to grab his gear.

Verz grabbed a few grenades, TB gas packs, and a Bwatha heavy rifle. The former Mand'alor liked to be prepared for anything.

 

[Levy Willamina]

"WOOOOOO" Levy jumped off the Yaim'la towards the group of vong. Her jackels coming out as she touched a roof and fired into the crab armor to get his attention. The shots might not penetrate but he snarled at her while she moved forward letting him get closer until her boot came out striking at his knee. The side of the roof making way for him as she spun on her heel catching under the armpit before he was going down. Her pistol raising up for a moment as she used it to lit the cig where the barrel was hot. "Willamina on the ground, heading your way but looks like there will be some fun." She let a long line of smoke come out before reloading quickly.

 

[Nyos Val]

(Sorry for the inactivity)

Allies: [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Azrael"]
Location: Drop pod

Titan was moving toward the ground at a rapid pace. The pod shook violently as the Goliath Mando plummeted to the ground. The ground came up in one breath.

The pod door popped and out stepped the largest Mandalorian on the battlefield. Vong turned that were near, turned to the Reaver repeater in his giant hands, bolts spewing from its mouth and death rained...


The thundering footsteps echoed from the boots as Titan lumbered along to his objective, which was to kill.

"Titan on the ground, moving through the enemy lines. Over."

 

[Arla Ordo]

Location: Entering the hangar

She had heard what Az and Verz had said it was time to go to work. She walked over to where they were issuing weapons, "I will have a few grenades, and something that will give me a stream of fire" She remembered too well the winged woman clutching at her, and all the creepy critters that grabbed at her. She'd burn them all to charcoal and blast them into little vong pieces.

Her group would meet at a shuttle to go to the surface, she could see Verz after drawing all that she needed she headed towards him. "Ver'ika" she called to him her helmet clipped to her hip. "You be careful, down there. Mirdala won't like it if you get hurt" She nodded then stood still.

There were a few looking at her, she looked over, '"what?" they would have to get over it

[member="Verz Horak"]

 

[Darth Rixas]

[member="Arumi Zy"] | [member="Garrus Garon"] | [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] | [member="Anastasia Rade"] | [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] | [member="Arla Balor"]| [member="Verz Horak"] | [member="Titan"]| [member="Vilaz Munin"]| [member="Anija Ordo"] | [member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Azrael"] | [member="Solan Charr"] | [member="Werdla Dardalab"] | [member="Levy Willamina"] |

Location: Moving towards drop pods.

Oron held his gaze on Azrael as well as the vod next to him, Verz. Through his visor the two were intimidating in stature and appearance, although upon closer inspection something whispered of both age and wisdom as well. Of time and life long since spent warring in battles of glory, the dark jedi's admiration grew evermore substantial. Long fingers brushed across his arm as he looked up towards the holo-image produced by Azrael. For a brief moment, one that hinted at acknowledgement of the figure presented, Oron owed the barest response.

Ugh.

The vong and all their deformity disgusted Oron still, as it always had. His face lowered back to the floor as he turned and moved to make his way to the drop deck. Gloved fingers coiled slowly around the handle to his lift jarring it smoothly into motion as he descended to the drop deck. Standing in the center of the lift, Oron's gaze flickered briefly below to his comrades on the floor. Movement could be heard well before his lift stopped however. The sound of locks clicking, weapons being gathered and assembled, armor being prepped and moved, the beeping of drop pods ready for disconnection and just overall noise pierced Oron's ear, almost individually. It filled his head like wings, fluttering and expanding in the silence of a cave.

For all the secrets told and held, blood drenched and unredeemed that he had allowed, serpent tongued into the quietude of the night, seeking a home and proving his worth would begin this eve in the Mandalorian's shared undertaking. He was prepared, for the challenges, the tasks; though his brethren owed him little to nothing, Oron owed them everything - Storing within him the mutters of the night that had left him little more than a vestigial minion under the Sith, bowed and bent over the windows ledge as he awaited the inevitable, where he would whisper the weals of war and stir dark forces in men...and what was he to do then? The crumbling foundation of his own power that had allowed doubt to creep into his mind was the reason he was on this very ship. It had allowed the misdirection of his motives to take root in war fed ground, to crawl upwards and between the cracks of his conviction and slowly, like the cliff met by the tempestuous seas, crumble to the murk of his indecision and sink to the crushing depths of his vacillation.

A breath, lighter than a sigh, yet weighted wit the air of understanding crossed over coffee lips as Oron's coral eyes blinked when the door to his lift slid open revealing the dock deck and all of its temporary occupants. Through space and amidst the trip of their vessels to the surface of Bimmiel, the battlefield where the Vong would doubtlessly engage them in combat Oron would be forced to meet the abominations there along with his numerous vods.

And they would come.

Deciding to accompany Verz and assist with the annihilation of the Vong leader. He quickly checked his inventory then as he made his way to the drop-pod bay. His right hand instinctively moving to his belt and to first grace his lightsaber. It was a superb weapon that'd served the Verd well up to this day, but it did not hold the firepower alone to allocate the damage and the supreme display of domination he wished to hold over his enemies. His eyes drifted then to the opposite side of his hip to a pair of machine pistols. Pulling at the belt stretching diagonally across his torso, Oron reached around his lower back to pat the 836 assault rifle. Along with the grenades also clipped on the front of his belt, Oron considered himself on the brink of absolute readiness, eager to lend a hand of destruction to the wretched Vong and all that they had established on Bimmiel. A cursory glance around the area alerted Oron that they would all soon be dispatched to the planet below. In kind, he turned towards to the drop pods and hastily moved to his own allowance.

 

[Azrael]

Loyalty ran through the veins of every sentient that bore the beskar'gam. The Mandalorians breathed a bond of trust and unquestioned solidity to the collective core of their creed. It was always a pleasure though to see such a fierce resolve acted out with vigor and duty from those that he trusted with his very life. Verz, he knew, would take care of the Vong General, and his associates - not leaving a single one able to breathe the air of Bimmiel. That much was assured, and it would certainly be a battle worthy of the Mandalorian hall of records that would soon chronicle yet another achievement. There were however other preparations that had to be made, and other points of interest on the planet itself to secure it once again into their stronghold. A singular nod was offered towards the crimson conqueror, before he shifted to the side and waved two more Rally Masters to his side while heading towards the bridge of the ship. The position to lead a dominion was something he'd learned over time, and with great care to pay attention to the smallest of details. Still, the need for improvisation had to come by first hand experience, as he was well aware that not everything would go according to plan.

Besk'ar boots clipped down the corridor as the motion sensor door swished open to reveal the command central of the ship's bridge. Several Mandalorians worked on the various terminals to prepare the drop pods, and empty the hangar of a few attack ships should they need additional air support. A datapad was handed over almost immediately as Azrael took towards the foremost holodisplay ahead. The holographic blue hue tinting his charcoal armor radiated the layout of the plan ahead, and the groups that were assigned to the tasks needed. Digits grazed over the screen, getting updates on who was moving in to which locations. Sanctioned teams were split up between two of the outposts where there was needed protection from delegates in hiding, and the third spot was the secondary meeting rooms for the governmental council chambers. They had been already forced from the first by domination from the Vong insurgents.

:: Set two teams to fortify the delegates, and bring a representative that can appeal their embargo for the trade route. :: Azrael ordered, having recieved word that the trade franchise had been put on hold since the Vong had come through. The delegates wisely had enacted it in fear that the Vong would overtake the shipments and derail their plans to give it to the people that needed it. They had to ensure that the trade continued and offer the confidence that the Mandalorians would be able to re-take this world and stake claim to it. :: The third group, I'll lead when the council has met. We'll need private escorts for both remaining council members that have refused to leave the protection of their bunkers. It's crucial that all council members are there to represent the world. ::


[member="Oron Verd"] | [member="Strider Garon"] | [member="Verz Horak"] | [member="Anastasia Rade"] | [member="Arla Balor"] | [member="Titan"] | [member="Levy Willamina"] | [member="Serock Hoath"] | [member="Mac O Shenanigans"]

 

[Strider Garon]

Location: Aboard the BBC-105 Mythosaur Super Carrier
[member="Azrael"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Anija Ordo"] [member="Titan"] [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] [member="Garrus Garon"] [member="Arumi Zy"]

Strider was in shock, paralyzed with confusion as Mand'alor himself had just personally ignored his request to lead the attack force against the vong general and worse he was the first to volunteer for that specific mission with his highly skilled supercommandos. He would stare long at his supreme leader, pain in his eyes as he pondered if the man he had served so loyally was disappointed in him. Was he being punished? Such questioned he wanted answered but this was not the time or place to question the Mand'alor's decision.

His eyes would look to Verz, the usurped Mand'alor. Anger flooded his soul, burned hot like all the nine hells of corellia combined. There was nothing more he wanted then to smash this glory robbing chakaar in the face. The man had bold faced robbed Strider of this honor and glory right from underneath him and before the true Mand'alor himself. An insult that will be sorted out on a different day, that was a promise.

"Guess the Ori'ramikade will be on sitter duty!" The old man snarled in his deep toned voice. His voice could not hide the embarrassment and anger he felt. He knew his team was looking forward to serving some ass kicking to Vong warriors but this Horak had cheated them all. Strider saw what he had done, it was well played for a Mandalorian desperate to regain honor and glory. Though not wise to cross Field Marshal Strider Garon, the hound of Keldabe.

 

[Orick T'ane]

The Aimless Ranger slipped out of hyperspace and into the space around Bimmiel He smiled as he saw the Mandolorian Super carrier and tuned to the large Twi'lek in the co pilots seat, "Looks like the Intel was spot on." The large Twi'lek shook his head and frowned in answer.

" You do know that they are going to court-marshal all of us for this little stunt of your, Major."

Orick turned and looked at his Master Chief, his most senior NCO aboard his heavy cruiser and smiled, " Bayora, everything is going to be fine, we all have the approved paperwork for this vacation. I approved all of your guy's paperwork, and mine was signed off by the Admiral before we left. As far as anyone is concerned , we are on our way to Ord Biniir to go camping. It seems to me we must have misjudged our initial jump and we ended up here." His smile was as devious as the sound of his voice while he described the situation to his marine.

" Right and the cargo bay filled with medical supplies and the half dozen marines in full combat gear in the back? How do you explain that?" The Chief had originally been on board for this mission. Rumors were flying about someone in the senate being upset with how Admiral Tyven had approached the agreement with the Mandolorians. So this plan was hatched. Orick would take a small group of his best marines along with a very large amount of medical supplies and assist the Mando's in any way he could. The fact that he owned his own light freighter was just the final piece to make it seem legit.

Orick chuckled a bit as he patted the large being next to him on the shoulder, " You worry too much my friend. Make sure the boys are ready while I inform the Mando's that we happened to stray off course."

The Chief grumbled a reply as he stood up and left the cockpit, the entire time, Orick was smiling and had to fight not to laugh at the entire situation. He toggled the com channel to the open frequency and cleared his throat, " Mandolorian forces, This is Orick T'ane, of the Republic Defense Force. I seem to have drifted off course on my way to Ord Biniir. I see that you are engaged in a fleet action against Bimmiel, I couldn't help but notice that I have a full cargo hold of medical supplies and a couple of friends that would love to help on board. If you want to direct me towards something I can help with, my friends and I would be more than happy to be of service." He toggled off the coms and waited for their reply. He knew it would come eventually, who couldn't use more medicine and guns in a fight.

[member="Strider Garon"] [member="Azrael"] [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Anastasia Rade"]

 

[Arla Ordo]

Location: Moved from Hangar up to see [member="Azrael"]

Arla after having bothered Ver'ika for a time walked up to where she could hear more about what was required of the Rally Master's for this Dominon. She listened but said nothing as Azrael briefed those around him. She stepped closer.

"I'll take one of the teams to fortify the delegates" She looked as faces turned she wished [member="Naimes Ahn-Dross"] were here to take the other team but his current location was unknown to her, "unless you have something else you would like for me to do" She half smiled her buy'ce in her hands.

There were many females among the Vod that held rank of Rally Master perhaps what was unusual was Arla coming to a meeting to see what could be done.

[member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Strider Garon"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Titan"] [member="Levy Willamina"] [member="Anastasia Rade"]

 

[Werdla Dardalab]

Location: BBC-105 Mythosaur Super Carrier
Allies: Mandos
Objective: Babysitting


La and her squad were not Ori'ramikade, though maybe one day. She had worked with [member="Strider Garon"] often enough however that it did not feel too presumptuous to insert herself and the four men who seemed set on being her squad. Which explained why once the brass started moving she was up and following Strider, squad tagging along.

Her reaction to his snarl likely showed just how long she'd been pirating rather than in Mandalorian space. With a grin that couldn't be seen beneath her helmet she responded.

"Cheer up Sir! When they hear the baying of the Hound I'm sure the Vong will come out to play."

It was true. He was a legend after all, the enemy would be keen to cut him down. Perhaps not the wisest thing for these whoever it was they were meant to be holding the hands of, but she doubted it would be boring.

"And we'll have a little bark of our own ready."

One hand affectionately stroked the riot gun like it was a living thing.

"What, no bite?" Harampr demanded

"Not on the clock, and not until you can match my kill count."

"That's a never." Jidte chimed in

 

[Verz Horak]

[member="Azrael"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Anija Ordo"] [member="Titan"] [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] [member="Garrus Garon"] [member="Arumi Zy"]

Location: Drop deck
Objective: Take out the Vong general
Allies: Mandos on the ground

Verz finished grabbing his gear from the armory. He had his Bwatha rifle, some grenades, his beskad, and plenty of ammunition. The rest of the Mandos on the Supercarrier's drop deck had already finished gearing up and strapped themselves into the single mand pods, and a few six man pods for more ordinance storage.

Verz's boots clanked on the deck as he approached his pod. He pressed a button on the side of the pod door, opening it up. The warrior strapped his gear in, then hauled himself into the drop pod. The door closed automatically, sealing him in. The pod's computer ran a system check, which reported green. Verz opened his comm channel.

"This is Horak to all drop pods, we are clear to launch. Let's go boys and girls!"

The drop pod tubes opened up below him, and with a thunk, the warriors were in freefall, heading for the surface of Bimmel.

 

[Mac O Shenanigans]

As the call for ready came out in the pod, Mac slipped his buy'ce on and pulled up some apropos music to go to battle with. He knew it might look a little funny to those in the pod, as Mac rhythmically nodded along with the beat.

It wouldn't be wise once fighting began to have it still going, as Mac would need all his senses. Using the data pad on his right gauntlet, he programmed his hud to turn the songs off when the drop pod opened. The 'music' of the battle would suffice at tha point. As he lay his head back and waited, one thought did cross his mind... He really should move the datalink to his left gauntlet, it was awefully akward to use it with his off hand...

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Location: Mythosaur Super Carrier
Objective: Get boots on planet side
Allies: Vode and Co.

The masses of iron and metal began shifting towards their position as the time to reconquer Bimmiel was officially initiated. Warriors split off into groups led by Rally Masters as they began entering drop pods, starfighters, drop ships, and other vehicles within the hangar of the carrier. The rhythm of boots clanging on the floor of the hangar could be heard in different meters as some walked and others ran in different velocities. The sound of his feet joined the chorus of the march as he walked towards a drop pod along with his equipment. These were true Mandalorians as they had rallied to the call of their sole ruler. Their loyalty was unquestioned and not doubted at with not just either Lord Mand'alor. Their trust and loyalty was within each of theses souls present on this craft and those who were not here, but expanding the influence and borders on other worlds.

Walking towards one of the drop pods he spot two vode in beskar'gam that were waiting for the other seats within the pod be taken in order to land with a full team. He could tell one of them was a female as he saw her chest plate of her armor and the color pink, that led him to the stereotype that all females like the color pink, through the visor of his buy'ce. While the other was definitely a male by looking at his chest plate. Taking a seat in the pod the Rally Master sat there and waited until the seats were filled with Mandalorians despite their ranks. Arms crossed he said nothing to the woman and tilted his head to a position where it could rest on the walls of the pods enclosing them and surrounding them.

"Howdy," he greeted to Mac and Anastasia breaking the silence kept within him when he first entered the pod. Cooperation was one of the factors for a victory and the Redneck lacked in those skills as he always worked by himself whether it was a bounty, a dominion, an invasion, and other events he went through daily. The way his harsh childhood shaped him was the primary and main reason how he socialized with others in a rude, disrespectful manner except to his Field Marshals and the Mand'alor. Initiates, several Rally Masters, and aruetiise were greeted by his bad, violent behavior, but he was more rationalized than his older brother, Verne. For now he enjoyed the peace that would soon be destroyed once the rage of Mandalore struck down upon these fouls beasts.

[member="Werdla Dardalab"] [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Orick T'ane"] [member="Strider Garon"] [member="Azrael"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Titan"] [member="Levy Willamina"] [member="Serock Hoath"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member=Verz Horak] [member=Garrus Garon] [member=Adenn Gra'tua] [member=Anija Ordo] [member=Orin Valdor]

 

[Darth Rixas]

Location: Bimmiel's Surface

Fastening himself into his seat, Oron sat in his one-person drop pod, prepping it for a trip to Bimmiel's surface. Gloved fingers moved up and down, pressing button after button as he simultaneously looked over holo-logs in his datapad with his opposite hand. Satisfied with the shared information, he simply waited until the command for dispatch was given, which would happen only minutes later as Verz announced that the Mandalorian forces were clear for launch. Pausing for only a moment, he held his fist aloft and then finally punched it forward, pressing a red button in the center of the control panel's layout.

Foom!

His ship was fired from the Mythosaor and downward to the planet. The bright, sunny hues of the planet's only sun soon sheathed Oron's drop pod with a luminous flare though it did little to harm his vision, given the small viewport of the craft. The illumination stretched skyward into the endless lacuna of the welkin complimented by the backdrop of the ragged teeth of the skyline. Framed with burning aureola his craft descended, a warrior of Mandalore bent on wreaking havoc in the impending battles. Staring across the desert plains of the planet failed to hold his attention nor keep his thought - No. For the vong were there.

The myriad of phoenix vessels crossing into the atmosphere of Bimmiel burst into the view of possible onlookers on the surface, a blazing company of drop pods with thoughts of glory brought about through hardship. The Mandalore would undoubtedly lead his warriors, marching forth in unmerciful Parade to destroy the Yuuhzan Vong for their sins, ever incensed, swearing vengeance with an ardency that would see the Aliens wither in the frigid expanse of turmoil and never-ending struggles.


A warning light blinked insistently in the pit of the drop pod, to which Oron ignored. Being familiar with this particular procedure Oron opted to turn off the lights and alarms, and allowed the free-fall to clear his mind of doubts and other unfit emotions for battle. He would not be cowed by weakness and fear. Instead, his enemies would discover him prepared, all-too-willing to bare witness the violent show of his power rejuvenated. The vong would meet the force of unrelenting melee, as the champions of Mandalore united with the abominations of the Force to end their reign over the planet, each the villain and ever the hero.

Then a boom surrounded his drop pod as his shop ceased to descend. Unclipping his safety belt, Oron reared his right leg up and kicked the door off it's hinges, watching as it soared a few feet and finally sank into a small sand dune ahead of him. Pulling himself out of his seat, Oron's robed form stepped out of the small craft, turning his masked, hooded head to his left and right watching as more champions smacked into the sandy dunes around him with muffled booms.

The Mandalorians had arrived.


[member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Werdla Dardalab"] [member="Azrael"] [member="Titan"] [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Levy Willamina"] [member="Serock Hoath"]

 

[Nyos Val]

Titan marched on with a few scattered Vod towards the enemy positions. The hellfire spewing from their weapons, death rained on the Vong who were unlucky to have stayed here. The heavy repeater in Titan's hands shook as each bolt was spat forth into the flesh of the enemy.

He walked, rounds hitting and bouncing off his armor. He was a walking tank.

"Moving North, in on sector 7-Alpha. Medium resistance at present location, requesting flank from the East. Over"

[member="Oron Verd"][member="Vilaz Munin"][member="Mac O Shenanigans"][member="Verz Horak"][member="Werdla Dardalab"][member="Arla Balor"][member="Orick T'ane"][member="Strider Garon"][member="Azrael"]

 

[Anastasia Rade]

Ana was about to drop to the planet when she too heard the call from [member="Orick T'ane"] whom had happened to get lost. Ana knew him better than that, he was here to help and in the process get himself into trouble. Ana couldn't help but shake her head and smile through her helmet. Normally she wouldn't take such calls but Orick was a friend. Well, more than a friend really but they hadn't defined their relationship anyway that wasn't the point. She would need to work on how they defined what that had but that was for a different day.

"Nice of you to drop by, Captain T'ane. This is Rally Master Anastasia Rade. We could sure use the medical supplies on the ground once an area is secured. Any help you can give is much appreciated." She had a team but the more bodies they could have the better chance they had of securing an area quickly to get help to as many citizens left down there as they could. If they could get down there Ana had the training as a battle medic to help these people. The repersenatives were better left in the hands of people who were good at the politics sort of thing which was not her. She would certainly owe him if he indeed came down to assist her.

It would also be interesting to see if he came down with the Marines or if because he was an officer would have to stay with the ship. She guessed the later which was a shame because it would be interesting to see him in action or at least she would think so. She either way wasn't about to turn down any help which was being offered to them especially in good faith by an ally.

 

[Wes Redtree]

[member="Azrael"] [member="Arumi Zy"] [member="Garrus Garon"] [member="Adenn Gra'tua"] [member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Anastasia Rade"] [member="Mac O Shenanigans"] [member="Arla Balor"] [member="Verz Horak"] [member="Titan"] [member="Anija Ordo"] [member="Oron Verd"] [member="Strider Garon"] [member="Orin Valdor"] [member="Werdla Dardalab"] [member="Solan Charr"]

He sat in the hanger of one big ship or another, his grey eyes narrowed against the smoke steadily rising from the ember at the end of his cigarette. A stack of unlit cancer sticks rested on a foot locker between the four men as they played a card game from one end of the galaxy or another.

"I see your two and raise one." His lieutenant said to him tossing three smokes onto the stack.

"Hmph" Wes grunted in response as he looked to the man to his right that now had his turn.

"Call." The young man, a devorian sniper, said in response after seeing the bet.

He took a long drag as he tossed in his smoke and tapped the footlocker to call the bet before laying down his queen of air and sky. The rest of them groaned and tossed their cards down angrily as Wes began collecting his new bounty. He tossed a wink at his lieutenant and tossed a few smokes to each man as he rose from his seat and pushed his durasteel dog tags into his shirt.