No Stone Unturned | First Order Dominion of Codian Moon Hex

[Rexus Wenck]

Post: III
Objective: Secure the barracks.
Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Zyrias Pax"] | [member="Ara Zambrano"]

The elevator creaked as it slowly descended down the shaft. Twigg anxiously twitched as the elevator slowly crept down the shaft. The taller Death Trooper fidgeted, which provoked nothing but quiet derision from his associate. The slow climb halted, with a whine coming from the cable system. And slowly, and steadily, the doors opened. "Stupid thing takes forever," A voice growled form the otherside, as the doors slowly began to open "I swear they should've added bloody stairs to this place. Would've been faster than-" The man on the otherside, attired in naught but a singlet and some briefs had his eyes widen in terror. "KARK!"

Twigg dispatched him, with a heavy blaster bolt to the chest. Flames erupted from the mans sternum, as he flew across the room, slamming into a rusted bunk bed. The other men and women in the room, were all concentrated around a sabbacc table. It appeared the troopers had arrived at the endgame of some good 'ole sabbacc. A moment of awkwardness passed. Rexus recognised this scenario from his time as a younger trooper. He and Twigg would often play games like this. Particularly the strip variant, with the Gundark Gunners. With his old family.

But the twinges of recognition were replaced, almost immediately with soldiers instinct. Some of the, players had recovered from the shock, and reached for their blasters, or leapt behind cover, and now began to take pot shots. It was game time. [This is Alpha One and Alpha Four, we have engaged hostiles!] Rexus barked over his comms unit. Setting up his rifle, the soldier began to take aim. This was where the fun began.

 

[Krayn]

His momentary feeling of pride shrunk as from the old man he heard words that filled him with anger and fustration. His saber, glowing red and fierce swing wide in an arch across his rear, slicing through the air and any would be Jedi ambushers They would not get the jump on him, for he was a Ren, a true master of the force.

However, there was no Jedi to be seen. His saber carried through the air and hit nothing of purpose. This caused the face of the Ren to twist beneath his helmet, to become fierce and angered at the deception he had so foolishly fallen for.

This man would pay for this.

He would let the man flee, disappearing behind the tunnels curve as several shot impacted against the walls, each exploding and sending shards of rock across the tunnel as they did.

Krayn merely began to advance in a steady and targeted walk, his saber idle at his side allowing a crimson glow to fill the tunnel as it did with its aggravated hum. “You cannot hide.” He would say, the hood now removed from around his helmet. “These tunnels will be your grave.”

He had turned the natural curve now, bringing him into the tunnel that the smuggler had fled within, unless of course he had managed to get further into the tunnels labyrinth.

[member="Zef Halo"]

 

[Progflaw99]

It wasn't long before Lysander's fingers were poring over the controls, attempting to find anything in the station's computers that could give him an advantage. Already he was hearing comm traffic from several of the groups he'd coordinated to defend against the denizens of the First Order - and they'd failed miserably. Lysander had lost contact with at least three of the groups, the rest he could tell were already falling back to their final holding point. Needless to say, things weren't going well. It was a shame this wasn't a spacefaring vessel, he might have at least a chance of escaping the First Order's vessels, or disappearing in a debris field. Unfortunately, this derelict station was devoid of propulsion, old enough that whenever it had been installed it had been tugged into position by shuttles. *Shuttles.* An idea began to form in his mind. What limited time they'd had to wake and develop a plan, much less implement it had caused Lysander to miss an obvious thought. One which now sent his fingers tracing across the console in front of him in a hurry.

Frantically his eyes darted from one readout to another, coming to rest on a live feed towards a large cargo area nestled near the "Bottom" of the station. Lysander narrowed his eyes as he tried to get a clearer view. Along the rear of the chamber there appeared to be a set of large blast doors. It didn't match the depth of the station, which meant there was something on the other side. Oddly enough, he couldn't tell what, and the system had no registry for the room. *Something added later?* As if caught by surprise, he let out a short yip, fingers once again scurrying across the console as he began to compare manifest records. They were all old, old but still legitimate. It was there on the manifest he saw what he was looking for. There was an unlisted hangar beyond those doors, he knew it. Now the challenge would be to reach it, and with the ever tightening noose on the command deck, he'd have to scurry in a hurry if he hoped to keep his head.

Glancing about the command center, he reached across the console and retrieved a small holdout blaster. It wasn't even close to comparable to what the First Order had boarded with, but all he needed was time. Even as Lysander's footsteps rang out across the durasteel deck he could hear the shouts and screams of those unfortunate enough to be killed by the station's boarders. Breaking into a sprint, he headed towards the unlisted cargo bay, blaster in hand.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="FN-2826"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="Zyrias Pax"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

Defiant shouts at first, the pain enough to bear in the moment. Then came the short breaths, the biting of the lip to divert attention from the onslaught of images playing across the big screen in the Jedi's own mind. Cries of sorrow eventually burst free, lungs heaving with the effort. The man's every terror conjured, bound and set upon him - as Sieger pressed the attack. In moments, there was nothing left. A vacant stare, all that remained of the once noble Jedi's gaze. Even as Sieger loosened the grip he held on the man, the Jedi slumped to the ground. A quiet whimper the only protest. With pleasure, the Supreme Leader's eyes turned to the battlefield before him. His Knights of Ren were all about him, cutting down those Jedi who failed to succumb, subjugating the others whose will Sieger saw drain before his very eyes.

Even as Sieger's footsteps drove him forward, onto the next conquest, behind him came Disciples and Knights alike, sweeping up the fallen and surrendered into a stream of shuttles. Their destination was the Bastion of Ren, nestled deep within the jungles of Virgilia. It was there that they would serve their purpose. A curiosity took Sieger then - surely these were not all the Jedi had to offer. Where were their masters? Where were the strength of their kind? Had they sent mere children to repel the likes of Sieger? No.. No there was something else afoot. Looking to his left, then his right, Sieger looked for anything he might have missed - that could explain why they'd been met with such little resistance. Sieger was no fool, he knew the power he commanded, but even so it didn't explain what was happening. They'd made it to the compound undetected, no traps had been triggered, no alarms.. They'd had to have known somehow.

The sound of lightsaber humming through the air sent Sieger into an instinct driven dodge to his left. A viridian shimmer flicked past his face, spinning past harmlessly. A wicked grin creased the Supreme Leader's features. Now the Jedi had come out to play. "Didn't they teach you never to let go of your weapon?" Sieger taunted, his own crimson blade snapping to life. With grace unexpected of the elder man, he surged forward in an instant. Sieger would make the Jedi pay for his mistake.

 

[Ara Zambrano]

SS-13 | Unknown Class Space Station
Status: Derelict | Power: Minimal | Active Systems: Life Support, Gravity
Enemies: [member="Zyrias Pax"] \\ [member="ch1m3r4"]
Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] \\ [member="Luther Ando"] \\ [member="Rexus Wenck"] \\ [member="The Major"] \\ [member="FN-2826"]
Objective 1: A Game of Survival, To be the hunter
Post: 3


Broken bodies littered the hallway, the sound of blaster shots dying with the screams and the curses and the harsh crack of bones crunching beneath invisible fingers.

The beat of a lone heart echoed in her ears, the opaque glass of her visor turning to narrow in on the last survivor of the small band of convicts, easily carved through by the Master of Ren, a soft smile playing across her features behind the cold metal. This one was different than the others in some ways, but not by outwards appearance. Harsh lines cut into a face chiseled by violence and anger, what once was a handsome man had been twisted into a mask of desperation and deception. The vibrosword he clutched hovered on the edge of her vision, one corner of her mouth quirking up as he brandished it threateningly, but without success.

No, it was neither the bloodlust she felt emanating off of him, much as it called to her own in haunting song, anticipation thrumming through her, nor the weapon she suspected he could wield better than the others of his ilk. It was the spark she watched flickering inside him, a small flame that struggled against the cage that housed it, recognized by another with the same. The Force burned within this one, whether he knew or even was able to access the blanket of power was an invisible question mark hovering over the pair as silence hung between them, a moment frozen in time as she took a step forward and his grip tightened imperceptibly.

A mechanical laugh ricocheted off the confines of the service corridor they stood in, as smoky tentacles of amber and grey flashed from her outstretched palm and burrowed deep into his abdomen, a gut-wrenching scream torn from his throat.

Footsteps pounded through the station, a riot of various communications, calls of locations and engagements mixed with reports of bodies and convicts left for clean-up. One small group had managed nearly managed to escape, only to find themselves floating in the cold emptiness of space with malfunctioning gear.

Seven kills she could claim as her own, her strength restored by the life she had stolen from another, the flood of power still pulsating n her veins as she moved, following another’s path through the command bridge and towards a- cargo hold? The sin between her eyes furrowed in confusion as she sped up, a small brush of power added to her movements, gaining as she was on her prey.

:: Sarathiel to Control Base Alpha, I need scematics for L-7 corridor 34.5 delta, immediately.::​

The requested diagram rushed to life in rush of flickering blue, a soft snarl escaping her throat as she pushed more power behind each step and turned, the disappearing figure of a small, skinny convict now in her field of vision. A hangar, an undocumented hangar. Now, this was a true challenge.

 

[The Major]

Post 4
On Station SS-13
A Ball Dropped
Objective: Hunt

For the convicts this had to be a nightmare. Numbers were compounding as the hunt as more and more degenerates met a fitting end at the various hands assembled. But something had gone terribly wrong. As the Security Bureau Operations team continued their secret work one of the rookie agents overstepped a crucial boundary. Illusions of this caliber had distinct limitations when develving into pseudo-invisibility. There was a moment of vulnerability when directly acting upon the physical realm that caused one to appear. The operative, overexcited, thrust their weapon into the final target without waiting for his fellows to place themselves in covering positions against the other convicts in the cramped room, and since they were on alert for a disturbance since their fellows in other wards were being eliminated by the various groups assembled, they were ready to respond quickly.

A cruddy, improvised shotgun using a set of bolts and rivets as ammo sent its destructive spread into the hunter at nigh point blank range. One of the target’s friends were jittery enough to turn, aim, and fire with more than sufficient accuracy when so close. A scream rebounded off the tight walls as the attacker was flung back, already shocked into death as most of his midsection was blown apart by the violence.

Reacting quickly, the rest of the team made short work of the remaining scum in the room using a mixture of quick shots and leaping stabs. Once the dust settled the lead representative checked the friendly corpse and confirmed its status. She then brung up a list on her heads up display, scrolled down to the operative who laid dead, and deleted any trace of their service and labelled as a washout of the academy. Names and history were expunged. Such was experience of serving in this churlish outfit.

“Collect their trinkets and leave the body.” Ordered the Major, and the other two obliged, taking all datapads, personal effects, and even the overcoat. Leaving the wrecked body behind they started back towards their ship at a quick pace. More care was taken on the exfiltration since they could no longer bask in the lovable comfort of irrelevance.

[member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="FN-2826"]​

 

[Luther Lewis]

Location: SS-13 | Unknown Class Space Station - Engineering Subdeck.
Station Status: Derelict | Power: Minimal | Active Systems: Life Support, Gravity, Basic Security Protocols
Objective: #2
Objective details: Assist FO forces within the station.
Post: 4

​

​

As Luther and Tia poured their eyes over the panel, deep in discussion, Lee and Skye uneasily patrolled the perimeter. "He's different, I'm telling you" Lee was saying. Skye shrugged. "He seems pretty much the same to me, albeit taller". Lee stopped just in front of the large turbolift doors, the red light above indicating it was locked. He turned to face the woman. "You can't tell me that The Order would rebuild an entire man and then just keep his personality the same? He probably has a direct link to the fething supreme leader in his brain!" Skye frowned at that. "He's not a freak, he's just...disconnected. We just need to remind him he's still human, you know? Invite him to eat in the mess or something like-" She was interrupted by a loud beep as the light above her head turned from red to green.

- - - - - ​

​

"Lets cycle through the cameras, see what we have access to" Luther suggested. Unfortunately, security didn't seem to be a priority for the station on low power and thus most cameras were offline. Cycling through the view of each floor, Luther sees a flicker on-screen. "Hold there, see if you can't get another view of this area". Tia fiddled a bit with the controls before finding access to another camera. She let out an appreciative whistle as the view came on-screen. "They've done a number on them here". The room was filled dead bodies, all but one belonging to the pirate forces. "Zoom in on that one, looks like a bureau agent". The body did indeed have FOSB gear, through it looked that most of it had been ransacked. "I wasn't aware the bureau were involved" Tia muttered. "They are always involved. This especially looks like [member="The Major"]'s work, although I can't be sure. Let's not mess with anything in this area, lest we compromise their mission".

Once again cycling through the cameras, they found more of the FOSB's handiwork. A man with his neck slit from ear to ear, collapsed over a now-red bathroom sink. The next image showed a skinny man fleeing down a corridor, armed with only a small blaster. It was at this time that Luther overheard [member="Ara Zambrano"]'s call for schematics, and identified the same corridor on-screen. 'Happy coincidences' he thought. "Our Ren friend is after this man it seems. Seal the door at the end of his corridor" Her hands moving at a blur, Tia entered the command that would hopefully shut the door at the end of the ([member="ch1m3r4"]'s) corridor. "Not sure the command will go through with this low power. Plus if the man is a slicer, he can probably open the door again" Luther chuckled. "What are the chances of these brutes having a competent slicer among them?"

Luther's eyes snapped up as his comms crackled to life with the voice of [member="Rexus Wenck"]: "-pha One and Alpha Four, we have engaged hostiles!"

- - - - - ​

Skye, Lee and four others set up position around the turbolift door. She left her comms off, hoping her silence would give her the advantage of surprise. The others seemed to mirror her thought. They tensed as the doors opened slowly, hands tight on their guns, fingers on triggers. The doors opened completely, revealing a lone forklift abandoned in the middle of the floor. Lee let out his breath a bit. 'Luther probably flicked a switch to activate the elevator' he thought. Nevertheless the team swept into the room, to ensure it was clear. Skye approached the back of the forklift, seeing no hostiles, instead spotting a large brick shaped device covered in wires. She uttered a single word. 'Kark'

The resulting fireball from the elevator vaporized all inside and a torrent of shrapnel would rain down on those standing just outside the doors.

| [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="FN-2826"] | ​

 

[Zyrias Pax]

Location: Space Station, headed to unmarked hangar
Objective: Locate an escape ship for Meridian/Death Row prisoners
Enemies: [member="Ara Zambrano"] [member="The Major"] [member="Kyli DT-6767"] [member="ch1m3r4"] [member="Luther Ando"] and anyone else on the Station
Soundtrack: Creep
Post: 5


Still shaken by the death of Stubbs, Zyrias needed to reset her brain to survival mode. Somewhere else on the station, the barracks began to be locked down by an intrepid, yet hot mess of an ex-stormtrooper named [member="Rexus Wenck"].

The blue-haired chameleon may have had an ally in Lysandra, but she did not know that yet. Confusion clouded her brain. She had no idea about the war games and kind of assumed this was just a prison. Still trying to figure out why the criminals were on the loose and not locked up, she followed Team Crater down the corridor, sans the Zabrak now, though she’d grabbed a cheap but distinctive ring off his finger not to steal but to send back to his family if she could find them; he was still warm, full rigor not setting in for another couple of hours.

Suddenly one of the soldiers turned around and barked, “Go find the cargo bay. The ship is karked now.” And as if on cue she could hear it being towed away by an FO transport vessel and exploding under the barrage of TIE cannons.

“What? No! I’m staying with you guys,” Zyrias protested, but his hand raised his blaster upward, not pointing it at her head but an aggressive enough gesture that she knew what he meant. “Fine.”

Sneaking down a hallway to the right, she briefly checking a panel which held a flickering holomap of the station.

They already think I’m a liability. Now I’m going to be killed. Zyri knew she needed to locate a ship but wandering around this station alone was suicide. And this map is fething hard to read. She thought she located the main cargo bay, but she actually had found the unlisted one, and then the map disappeared from a power surge. Her gloved fist hit the panel, but it was fried. “Bayana pisua!”

Passing through another corridor, sidestepping bodies of criminals and the lone stormtrooper now and then, the teenager could not believe her luck that she’d not run into anyone yet. Not a soul. Yet with no Force sensitivity she could not feel the strong Master of Ren approaching from another direction. She could hear footsteps though and began to slow her own pace so that she did not attract unwanted attention with the thump of her boots.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Post: IV
Objective: #2
Location: Space Station Barracks
Theme: Street Fighting Man | The Rolling Stones (x)
Allies: [member="The Major"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="ch1m3r4"]


Rexus barrelled through the upturned table three assailants were firing from, with such force it splintered, and cracked beneath him. His thick, black boot slammed into a poor scoundrels face, knocking out the mans teeth, and causing his gums to bleed. Rexus ruthlessly dispatched all three, with blaster bolts to the head, while Twigg moved forward. The seven and a half foot tall behemoth attracted almost all fire. "THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?!" The giant bellowed out of his helm, as he lifted another convict up, by his neck. The mans feet twitched beneath him, as his leather vest proved of little protection against the volleys levelled against the Death Trooper, which seared his flesh.

Twigg let out a childish chuckle, which sounded horrifying coming out of the sound distorted helm. He threw the dying man in his arms, at another group running from his advance, and sent two tumbling over. As Twigg the tank pressed his offensive, Rexus flanked, using his now metahuman speed to catch up to fleeing groups, and dispatching them with clinical ease. Soon enough, the last remainders of the convicts now cowered before a turbolift shaft, frantically pressing the buttons to activate it. "C-come on!" One of them squealed, as the duo, slowing their pace moved forward.

As the lift slowly began to open the doors, the group cleaved the edges, and began to, in a crazed panic, try and pry the lift open. Those towards the front, fired whatever they can, their weak, antiquated arsenals proving to cause minimal damage when faced with the elite engineering of Project AFTERLIFE. When the turbolift opened enough for an arm to slide through, Twigg lazily snatched a thermal imploder from his utility belt, and lobbed it in. Frenzied, the criminals all jumped away, except for one, who screamed like nothing else, as the doors slammed on his arm, and it was seared by the ensuing explosion. He continued to wail, to no avail, as Rexus and Twigg moved closer and closer, hitting the five meter mark.

Then, the creaking began, as the lift groaned, and heaved, before falling down the shaft. Tearing the poor trapped man's arm off. It was clear now, there was no escape. The intelligent reached for their blasters, and offed themselves. Sliding the barrels into their mouths, and searing out their eyes with a hot plasma blast. Steam poured out of their ears, and hollow sockets, as all saliva, and moisture within their skulls evaporated in an instant. The few remainders, threw up their arms, "We surrender!" One yelled. "We give up!" He reached down, and threw his pistol down with a clatter echoing throughout the room.

Rexus and Twigg moved closer. The others did the same, and the clatters grew louder, and their eyes wider. The Death Troopers offered no expression on their obsidian helms, and none was given, until they were but a sole meter away from them. The final eight, were packed against the turbolift door, the damaged structure now groaning, as some members found themselves pressing their weight against it. Arms were raised, and that's when the two Alpha's struck, putting their heads down, shoulders up, and charging. The size and weight of them forced, the group back. Some clawed against their equipment, ineffectively. Others squealed, and screeched.

The doors finally held their last, and fell. One by one the final eight feel down the elevator shaft, their cold, deathly screams carrying all the way down, until a dull thud was met. Until the last one. The last one, who had to be a boy. About eighteen, perhaps nineteen at oldest, who looked at them. Tears pouring down his cheeks. Eyes reddened, "Y-y-you didn't have to do this.." he whimpered, his arms were out stretched, holding onto the sides of the entryway. Rexus leaned in, and whispered into his ear.

"Of course I didn't." As a bolt from his rifle, hit his left knee. The boys leg crumpled, and he let out an agonising bellow, before Twigg finished him, kicking his stomach, and forcing his frail, and tired body down the shaft. There was a distinct sound heard, as his head hit the other side of the shaft, and beneath his helmet, Rexus cracked a smile. He raised his hand, to which Twigg reciprocated with a hi-five.

[This is Alpha One and Four. Barracks secured.]

 

[Zef Halo]

Zef dashed down through the tunnels as he heard the creeping voice of the Force user. He almost wished he wore a beskar'gam once more. Then he wouldn't have been on the fethin' run. Sweating and barely catching his breath, the smuggler once more came to the realization of how old he had become.

The years just kept on rolling.

Corellian's luck smiled upon him when an explosion from above tore a new opening right infront of him laying rain of stones open him scratching and tearing his skin and shirt. He couldn't look back, nor think about what could possibly be above.

With his gun leading the way, Zef charged through the opening recklessly opening fire to anything that moved and disappearing into the woods to find his ship.

If it was still there.

Fethin' religious nuts. Always trouble.


[member="Krayn Ren"]