Progenies of Asymmetric Warfare [FO Dominion of Zarnathea Hex]

[Saffron]

Varunda IX
PharmaTech - New Eden Project
Objective 5
| 1 |

Varunda IX was somewhat isolated prior to the construction of the Sanctuary Pipeline, the world acquired closer contact with the galaxy in the time of the Empire. It was settled by the Revwien diaspora after the efforts of the Revwian Rebel Wuwuhuul on nearby Goratek III. Later, after the destruction of Ithor, Varunda became a refuge for the Ithorian diaspora. Between these two species, the jungle moon became a refuge for rare plants from across the universe.

It was for this very reason that Saffron was working closely with the two species to aid in the massive botanical project to restore extinct and endangered flora.

The only concern was the current First Order expansion. Thankfully, Arceneau Trade had a working relationship with the government. Truth be told, Saffron’s interactions with the First Order had been nothing but cordial. She personally had not been privy to any harsh treatment from the worlds they were bringing into the fold. However, how they would treat the very peaceful Ithorians and Revwien would be telling.

Saffron could only pray to Ithari that they would continue to be just and respectful. A few feared the humancentric nature of the core planets of the First Order, would that affect them now?

Unknown to Saffron, one of the First Order delegates was actually a Mon Cal and her concerns were for moot.

For now, PharmaTech was searching for a location to set up groundside as well as in orbit. If possible, because of the wealth of knowledge and resources in rare flora.

On the Western shelf, Saffron was to meet with a local who would be able to help in providing information and set up a mutually beneficial arrangement. Saffron was here to offer jobs and more resources for the protection and maintenance of these plants.

Perhaps [member="Mir Nehrahn"] would be able to help her with that.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 5
Operation Clean Sweep
Allies - [member="Matthias Hux"], @Pierce Fortan III, [member="Nils Brenner"], [member="Greta Kohler"], [member="Ishana Pavanos"], [member="Nova Casamyr"], [member="Sara Lee Jones"] , [member="Jezebel Marcos"]

"No time for cocktails, then, old chap?" asked Pierce under his breath, a billow of beautiful silver smoke pouring from his lips as she approached the podium, leaning over it in such a way that would certainly not meet regulation requirements. Grand Moff Fortan -- cousin Natasi, if you like -- had departed the Concordia to great fanfare the day before, and of course she couldn't resist making some remarks about duty and courage and fortitude and something about the Supreme Leader -- always with the Supreme Leader, this woman -- before hopping into the Frontrunner and zapping out of there. So things felt slightly more relaxed in her absence. Pierce was sure everyone, from DuSang on down, felt somewhat more comfortable without her.

Everyone except [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"], probably. Where the presence of Natasi kept Pierce's antics in line, her absence opened the door to a few more of his eccentricities. Only the coming operation -- well, that and his irrepressible sense of decency and decorum -- had stopped him from executing a panty raid against the female pilots dormitories the night before. He tucked his half-empty pack of smokes into Roderik's chest pocket and patted the fastener down. "For after," he said with a roguish wink. This was a ritual for Pierce. He always had something for after. Something to survive for. And he wanted his best chum Captain von Brinkerhoff to come home, too. "See you up there, eh? Tally ho."

He put out his ever-present cigarette in Brinkerhoff's empty coffee mug, gave a smirking chuckle, then was gone before he could be reprimanded.

The pre-flight was easy, it always was. [member="Daxin Novari"] took care of them, everything seemed to be ship-shape and Bristol fashion. Meanwhile, O'Brien -- rather an unpleasant woman, facially speaking, but a bloody good shot -- clambered down into the rear-facing gunner's seat and uttered a gruff hello. Pierce returned the favor as she sealed the hatch. When it came time, Pierce clicked his comlink on. "Bravo 1, green."

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

C L E A N S W E E P​

Ishana had to jump from Quintas to take part in this Operation, and half way through the Grand Moff's speech (no matter how dull), Pierce always had to say something. Typically, Ishana would join in the elbow rubbing, but her game face was on and so Songbird, or rather Shriek-Hawk as was her more appropriate callsign from her One Sith days. She watched the guy put his smokes in the Captain's pocket and only sighed as she climbed into her bird. She didn't have much to live for, except maybe that pretty Mandalorian chick, [member="Ashtah Ordo"], but that was about it. None of these jokers needed to know about that - because as far as they were concerned. Ishana was just as womanizing as Pierce if not worse because she was right there in their dormitories.

Cap'n called for no showboating, no fooling around, no 'accidently' showing up in some neighboring star system. Back to the days of rigid discipline she supposed, the sometimes smuggler, pirate and dancer was getting back to her roots of being a fighter pilot. Back to when she had little choice in matters, and maybe that was for the best because without rules and regulations she just got herself into a whole feth load of trouble.

Ishana on her part, didn't like flying with a crew per say, she flew with her element and that was about it. "Pipes, you gonna be alright up there?" She asked the young pilot, "not gonna pass out on me again are you?"

"N-No ma'am, no I'm fine, thank you." The young pilot got into her bird and Ishana gave her a thumbs up.

"First time's always a doozy, Pipes, Parrot, Pans, you two gonna be solid - you heard the Cap'n, no fussin aroun' up there a'right?" She looked at the two pilots who gave her a mock salute, while she flipped them off and sealed her hatch. They were going to be flying tight in an arrow head formation with Pipes in the middle as Parrot and Pans took flank and 'Songbird,' took lead.

She flipped on her comms link and got into channel with her element, "Delta 1, green."

"Delta 2, green." "Delta 3, green," "Delta 4, green."

"S'what I like to hear boyles and ghouls, alright, alright - tower one, this is delta squad we are green and ready for take off, where do you want us to taxi?" Ishana asked as she stuck a little holo of Ashtah on her dash. She waited for the tower to get back to her and was expecting that they were going to be waiting for a good long while but then.

A beep, "this is tower one, delta squad line up on taxi two - wait for our go."

Ishana cleared her throat and flipped channels to the other element leaders, "this is delta squad - we're taxi on two, taxi on two, roger."

[member="Matthias Hux"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Greta Kohler"] | [member="Nova Casamyr"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Jezebel Marcos"]​

​

Posts: 1 // ??​

 

[Daxin Novari]

Objective 3 - Starfighter Corps - Operation Clean Sweep
Location - Briefing Room - Resurgent class Star Destroyer, Concordia [Concordia's Location Redacted ]
Allies - [member="Matthias Hux"], [member="Pierce Fortan III"], [member="Nils Brenner"], [member="Greta Kohler"], [member="Ishana Pavanos"], [member="Nova Casamyr"], [member="Sara Lee Jones"] , [member="Jezebel Marcos"]
Enemies - Estimated pirate strength; 2 squadrons of mixed-force starfighters operating from 1 frigate.
Post 2

As the starfighter jockeys all sat in their seats with some paying attention and others daydreaming with their most professional poker faces on, others were hard at work. The maintenance crews hurriedly moved from TIE/sf fighter craft to TIE/sf fighter craft, finalizing their inspections and signing their respective fighters off as cleared for duty.

One of the senior technicians making the rounds was none other than Daxin Novari, the 100th Fighter Squadron's most eccentric yet decidedly capable repairman and all-together handyman. On this day his work was slowed, not entirely to a stand-still, but decidedly to a crawl. He was behind on several of his fighter inspections and the pilots were due to be exiting the briefing room momentarily.

"Prioritize, Novari! Prioritize!" He muttered as he speed-walked (running was prohibited) towards his next fighter. This one belonged to Lieutenant Fortan and thus was of extra importance to the technician. He had an arrangement with the good Lieutenant to conduct his full barrage of pre-flight checks, in exchange for a steady supply of high quality exotic liquors while the ship was underway. He didn't know how Pierce managed it, but his supply was seemingly unending. Perhaps it was, and the Fortan was some kind of Force miracle worker.

Daxin went to work on his tests, completing them all in average time - all tasks but one, at least. For his last, Daxin required an medium-sized external work ladder. He near-dashed across the bay to the nearest ladder, carrying it back to Pierce's starfighter. But not before the blasted fighter pilots had begun to disperse from their briefing room. Pierce and his gunner had already entered their craft by the time he returned to finish the job.

"Blast, blast, blast!" The senior technician grumbled as he wheeled the ladder into place - clanking it against the front view-port window of the TIE cockpit. The final inspection took him up the ladder and into full view of Pierce inside at the controls. Pierce's view would be the unexpected face of Daxin appearing after the abrupt appearance of ladder arms and rungs.

Daxin waved obnoxiously with one free hand while the other brought a small hand-held device, no larger than a datapad, which he then waved about in front of the cockpit visor -- scanning for any micro-cracks that could cause a catastrophic structural failure and a nice venting into space. The cockpit came back in perfect condition on his tools display, which caused the technician to immediately descend down the ladder, and wheel back away the ladder, causing Pierce's view-port to be unobstructed once more.

One more fighter down, and on to the next! The technician thought to himself as he scrambled in the direction of his next ship.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

Varunda IX
Objective 2, Post 2
Allies: [member="Darth Veles"] (sashimi with soy sauce) | [member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Boo Chiyo"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pm8D7pZeGss

"A human male," the Revwien Tyia said unironically.

Mael Ren said nothing in reply. He was very typical of his species. A man dark of hair and eye with skin paler than was average. The Dark Side always exacted a cost from it's users.

A worthy cost for the power it granted. Appearance was vanity and power was real. Corporeal forms were finite but the Force was endless. The Dark Side was the surest path to the power of the Force.

But it was very much a business transaction. No corporate entity gave away something for nothing. Likewise the Dark demanded it's due. In this case a portion of the vitality of those who called upon it.

"I sense great conflict in you, stranger."

"The path to power is never easy," he said in a quiet tenor. So different from the flattened bass of the vocabulator.

"True, but the power of darkness is impure. It's better to surrender to the Force rather than control it."

She sounds so very much like my old Master.

"Why did you seek us out, stranger?," she asked with infinite calm.

"The First Order comes. We will soon hold dominion over this place."

It wasn't a proper answer and they both knew it. The Tyria remained silent and awaited the answer. It wasn't violent but it forced him to answer.

"I wanted answers. Answers before the others came," he admitted.

"Very well, ask."

"Why do I feel such conflict inside of me?" he asked without thought. Mael hadn't intended to be so direct and yet there it was. A conflict that had been inside of him for many years.

"Because you have strayed from the Light," she replied "Because you have let fear grip you. There is no fear in the Light. There is the peace of acceptance."

Mael Ren frowned and shook his head a trifle. He knew part of it was true but not all. Acceptance was a kind of weakness. It meant something else dictated to you.

"Acceptance is passive and weak," he said in his quiet voice.

"Acceptance is strong because the Light is strong. It endures always because even our death is simply a phase of existence."

That had always been a weakness of the Dark Side. Great power in life but never able to surmount death. He titled his head back to see the pale blue sky. He closed his eyes and wondered.

Should this not have enraged him? Why did this follower of the Light not already lay dead? This plant-like being spoke of blasphemy and weakness. She preached something like the ancient Jedi once had.

"Are there many of you?," he asked looking down. She answered that there were enough. Mael nodded and let the evasion pass. There was a sense of peace in him that he hadn't felt in years.

 

[Valessia Brentioch]

Objective: 4 - Riflor
Allies: [member="Natasi Fortan"], [member="Darell Irani"], [member="Dunames Lopez"]| First Order
Enemies: N/A
Location: FIV Frontrunner; to Riflor
Post: 4 // ??

And please set your trays in their upright positions? Of course. Valessia prepared herself as the FIV Frontrunner emerged from hyperspace and into realspace. "Thank you," she said to the steward and took her singular data tablet with her as she followed Grand Moff Fortan and Duke Irani out of their quarters. When the Grand Moff made her comment, of here goes nothing Val could only give her a pair of raised brows, let us pray, to be exact.

They would be heading toward a prepared shuttle or perhaps the Grand Moff had a yacht she wished to use for the occasion, Valessia mused to herself and realized that she had clearly been spending too much time around one, [member="Sumiko Tanaka"]. Clearing her throat she was a little oblivious to Natasi and Darell's conversation. She was on autopilot following the Grand Moff and doing as she instructed while she looked at the tablet and began to practice her Advb. "Yes, I too am fond of Imperial History, mhmm, no. I'd love to share you with my knowledge of - nope," she was switching between basic and the native tongue of the Advosze.

Taking a deep breath she exhaled and did her best to shake her nerves, she'd have been a little more confident if it weren't for the fact that the Grand Moff was with her. She could do this, the Grand Moff would be nothing - this was another situation in which she had to do her homework and so she brought up the history of the Advosze with the previous incarnations of the Galactic Empire and began to scribble notes in the margins on the e-book with her stylus.

 

[Progflaw99]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeW6drdOD1M​

- - - - - - - - - -
Objective: 1
Location: Zarnathea, Blocked Off Street, Several Blocks away from Nar'tan State University
In Vicinity: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Kierel"]
Post: 2
- - - - - - - - - -

Here he was again. Zarnathea. Deja Vu. As if his last encounter here hadn't been enough, fighting in the bloody jungles and mud-pits of Zarnathea against the Vax. Now he was here... the urban sprawl the new "Battleground".

His breath was heavy, the visor of his helmet slightly fogged as his legs pushed him faster down the littered street, the rustle of his armor filling his ears. His feet slapped the pavement, his hands gripping the F-11 blaster tightly. The street was oddly quiet, but it might as well have been a fething tornado in Rolf's mind. His lungs protested as he surged forward even faster. He was coming to a break in the buildings but that didn't slow his pace. There, erected across the road was a barricade, hunks of concrete and what looked to be a few speeders had been turned on their sides forming a roadblock. Had he been mounted it might have posed an obstacle but not today. Today he was on foot, the tight quarters of the streets had limited their mobility in speeders.

His feet rose as he approached the barrier, first stepping on a flat piece of duracrete, he left foot rising further and resting on a piece of metal. He propelled himself to the top of the barrier with another step and as he came over the top he leveled his blaster... and paused. There, just sitting there on an upended garbage can was a young man. He couldn't have been more than eighteen Rolf guessed. A small carbine slung on his shoulder, a newsboy cap on his head. The boy's eyes rose to meet his, a look of surprise on his face... surprise, and then fear. The boy went to stand, his eyes and mouth widening as he prepared to shout.

Click.

Time seemed to freeze, the barely audible sound of the trigger mechanism engaging sounded like a crack of a whip, a snap in the fabric of time and space. He didn't even hear the sound of the blaster bolt as it fired, the bright red beam hitting the young man squarely in the chest. As he tipped backwards off of the garbage can the sound finally registered in Rolf's ears. As his eyes traveled down the narrow street beyond the barrier, he saw more of the rioters. Many had been sitting down, their backs against the walls of the buildings. A few had been standing, still looking at Rolf, dumbfounded. A gruff looking older man turned quicker than the rest, in his hand a small blaster pistol. He had to have been a veteran to react as quickly as he did but as he squeezed the trigger the bolt flew high giving Rolf just enough time to level his blaster and fire. Another one fell with a bolt square in the torso.

By now, the rest of Rolf's squad was quickly approaching from behind, a few of the faster ones even starting to climb the barricade. He'd made the initial charge, leading his men from the front. It had always been that way, he found it to be a much more effective means of getting the job done, and earning his men's respect. He'd never been one to tell someone to do what he himself was unwilling to. Rolf ducked as a few more blasts landed at his feet, the rioters now regaining their senses. Sliding down on the side he raised his blaster just over the edge of the barricade. They had the high ground now, if the resistance fought back face to face with the First Order troops they likely wouldn't last long.

As he continued picking out targets and firing he noticed native species mixed in with the humans he'd seen. It looked like this... "Resistance" movement had recruited not only the natives of the planet but sympathizers as well. That could spell trouble in the future if the cancer wasn't forcibly removed the first time and done right. Rolf and his men would do their part, it was up to the other teams as well. Rolf ducked low, radioing over the comm to his fellow First Order troops.

:: Hitman 2. In contact, enemy barrier. East of your location. 40 plus contacts, looks like they were preparing an ambush. ::

He wasn't asking for support just yet but they had hit the jackpot. Rolf wondered how bad the ambush would have been had they not scouted out this part of the city. As he was pondering this, he saw a shimmer of glass fly overhead. As if time slowed he saw the brown glass bottle tumble end over end over the barrier. Thankfully whoever had thrown it must have let go just a little too early and the bottle flew high over their heads. As time appeared to speed up, the bottle shattered on the street behind them, flames erupting from the shattered vessel and spreading rapidly. They had molotovs it seemed. It was a very good thing they'd come across them here when they had. Peeking over the barrier once more he let loose a volley of fire, several more bodies hitting the pavement as the rioter's began to scatter, some ducking inside buildings, others running down several of the adjacent alleyways. They would have to be careful not to get flanked.

 

[Asharad Graush]

Objective One.
Post Eleven.
Involves: [member="Rolf Amsel"], [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="Ludolf Vaas"], [member="Kierel"]
Location: Few blocks away from Nar'Tan Market

The White Wolves secured the lines as gunboats neared the area. The airstrike had been called in. Proton torpedoes were primed, already locking on to the Market. People like the one he heard on the commlink towards the end of the Market were safe from the immediate blast radius. But two Arcturus Gunboats, and four proton torpedoes between the both of them? That was plenty of explosions, and a much larger shockwave than one would've expected.

"Fallback," he said. He had already heard that Lieutenant from the Gundarks was going to help them. Since they were already at the next perimeter line, their movements weren't harming the operation, the White Wolves would merely be spread thinner than already with the missing squad. Stepping back from the blockade in the street, the Sith Hybrid twitched as another bolt came over the pile of rubble, but what truly caught his attention was when another humanoid was climbing over the rock.

Blade in hand.

The High Colonel's left hand moved in a blink.

Not for the lightsabre on the belt hook, but out to the young... Kid? That was trying to half stumble, half charge at him down the rocky palisade, and he was instead met with a wall of the Force. It held him in position, as the Sith Acolyte watched him, looking him up and down. He's young. Too young to realize he can't beat me. Too foolish to believe the First Order could actually be stopped by the likes of... Him. There was no hate in the Sith's corrupted gaze, well, there was, but none solely for him. It was more curiosity than anger, the Sith clenched his fist as he slammed the boy off of the closest wall with the Force.

Not too young to die.

The moment his body touched the wall there was a grunt and an exhalation of air. He was winded, he needed to catch his breath.

A'sharad didn't let him.

Up and down his hand went, bouncing the boy off of the ground violently until it was nothing more than a bloody mess of what used to be a discernible humanoid.

"Weak."

Without another second wasted on the boy, he turned and headed back up the path he had previously gone down to the next perimeter line. By that time, the Gunboats were soaring overhead, taking a look for themselves at the situation before coming back around. "Stay low," A'sharad communicated to those remaining members of Zerek Platoon. The sound of turbolasers, thanks to the Field Marshal's deployment of a walker was heard, and the plume of an explosion soared into the sky. That was probably where the Gundark Lieutenant and his distraction are.

Probably some misinformation about how much damage was necessary to scare the inhabitants and their rebels. They were probably already on the run, in fact, he could feel their fear in the Force, but all the same when the gunboats requested confirmation on the fleeing targets, all A'sharad said was, "Confirm." And four proton torpedoes descended on the Market, vaporizing flesh and bone, wood and stone, any and everything that was unfortunately caught in the blast radius. Excessive. Yet, effective.

In a moment, where in the Force he had felt life, now he felt nothing. In their place, it reeked of death and fear.

Even the building the High Colonel was crouched in shook violently from the explosions.

Even if there was friendly fire at the hands of the command given by the High Colonel, there was no remorse shown. The entirety of the Market had likely been affected by the blast. What wasn't destroyed was probably rubble.

They were given ample warning.

Nevertheless,

"Report."

Came the cold, yet guttural voice of A'sharad Graush over the open First Order frequencies.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Objective 1
Post XVI
Involves:[member="Asharad Graush"]http://starwarsrp.net/user/12408-asharad-graush/http://starwarsrp.net/user/12408-asharad-graush/ / [member="Kierel"] /[member="Ludolf Vaas"]
Location: In the thick of it.

"Position comfirmed, reinforcements moving, over!" The lieutenant growled over the commlink, first squadrons was making its way there at a cracking pace. Rexus watched as buildings brushed past them, and only ordered a stop when he could hear the firefight. "Alright gents, we go loud and support them, come up the front and unload. Use detonators on nearby buildings, make them run!"

"Understood sir." The squads grenadier said with an audible chuckle.

"On my mark, we run in there, alright?" Rexus asked, he could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Three." Rexus dug his legs in, and felt his grip tighten on his blaster.

"Two," He looked up and could see the corner they were gonna run around. This was it, this would hopefully be the final pocket of Vax to wipe out.

"One!" The squad ran round the corner, and let rip a devestating round of fire and thermal detonators. The nearby building where some enemies were shooting from was guttered by four blasts that turned a once pristine apartment unit, to smouldering wreck.

There was a breif, merciful pause in the fighting, "Inside, inside!" Rexus ordered, "Get into cover!" First squadron acknowledged the order, taking cover in the shop front of what had once been an apartment, "Cover me, I'll get upstairs!" He said, quickly running to second level, "Sixth squad is it?" he asked, looking over the unit, before crouching. "Reinforcements have arrived." he said, feeling like a real badarse right about now, "Let's blow these suck-" Rexus paused and heard his commlink turn on, and a message come through.

"All units in the area, this is Field Marshal Vaas. Coordinates received. Please be advised, artillery support incoming. Repeat, heavy artillery support incoming."

"Piss!" He growled, "What are we gonna-?" he stopped, there was no time, "First squad, run around the corner!" He called, before turning to his rescueee's, "Come on, we've gotta get the hell outta here!" he ordered, jumping down the stair case. He was climbing through a window when the bombardment hit, knocking the trooper off of his feet, and onto the cold, hard ground. "Kark!" He groaned, as he felt the blast subside.

He heard the command for a report, "First squadron here, we've rescued the pinned down troopers. Haven't checked if they're alive, we were caught in the karking blast."

 

[Aram Kalast]

Location: Above Zamathea; aboard the Resurgent-Class Star Destroyer; the Prevail; Flagship of the First Order Fleet.
Objective: Ending the Underground once and for all.
Posts: [02]

“We have her sir.” The First Order officer declared to the white-clad, menacing form that was stood overseeing the digital display of the planet beneath them. A comment that brought a smile to the lips of Aram Kalast, Supreme Commander of the entire First Order and architect of their recent aggressive expansion.

“Excellent Commander.” Aram merely said turning his back on the display and the officer. “Order the interrogators to set up and have her moved to their chambers. I will meet our guest first though.” He headed off, two stormtroopers falling into line to flank him as they entered the ship proper.

 

[Komo]

Post 1
Objective 3: Operation Clean Sweep
Allies: [member="Roderik von Brinkerhoff"], [member="Pierce Fortan III"], [member="Nils Brenner"], [member="Ishana Pavanos"], [member="Nova Casamyr"], [member="Sara Lee Jones"]

Operation Clean Sweep. Yet another mission for the newly revamped Starfighter Corps to show what they were made up of. The 100th was the best of the best and they had a reputation to uphold and keep. Getting rid of pirates would be real nice today as these beings of scum and villainy get to have a good taste of the flying fist of the First Order. When the briefing was over and the instructions was given to prepare for take off, Greta joined the stream of pilots making their way to the craft. Getting a chance to meet the ever goofball that was Pierce Fortan the Third before they separated, the brunette couldn't help but utter a jovial cheer at her comrade and fellow pilot.

"Tally-ho my good man, I'll be seeing you in the stars shortly!" The various pilots of the 100th and beyond branched out into their various TIE fighters and she made her way to hers. She was confident in the expertise of senior technician [member="Daxin Novari"] and the rest of the maintenance crew that all preflight inspections and maintenance work would already be done and completed in tip-top shape.

It was the likes of this that made the First Order so great, like a well-oiled war machine, it's various departments working closely like small metal rings in chainmail. Together, united they were strong as their strengths complemented one another, boosting their empire's overall efficiency and productivity.

Greta climbed into the cockpit of her fighter and began to run the mandatory preflight checks, booting up all the systems as she did so. Midway through the procedure, she heard the sound of Mick Hansen, her rear gunner shut the hatch before settling into his seat. Checking up on him, Greta asked excitedly. "Ready to rock and roll?" Mick then answered with an air of confidence that rivalled her own. "Never been better." "Alright, let's get the show on the road." As the communication system came online, she heard the ready acknowledgements of the rest of the squadron came flooding in.

"Echo 1, green and ready to rumble!"

 

[Progflaw99]

- - - - - - - - - -
Objective: 1
Location: Zarnathea, Ambush Site, Approaching Nar'tan Market
In Vicinity: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Kierel"] | [member="Ludolf Vaas"]
Post: 3
- - - - - - - - - -

The rioters had scattered like roaches as the full firepower of the squad was turned on them. Many had ducked into buildings but a few had dispersed into the alleyways surrounding the area. They needed to push in, and soon. If they didn't the trap they'd sprung would come back around, closing in on them. A short transmission cut through the fog of war. Beneath his helmet he grinned. Artillery. Thank the Supreme Leader. As the call for artillery came in he felt a rumble in the earth. Must be walkers. He could feel the entire ground shake. As far as he could tell the artillery had been called in near the market, thankfully they were a few blocks away yet and likely wouldn't have to worry about blowback. With a wave of his blaster his men began to go over the top, one rank of soldiers firing as the next vaulted the roadblock, a furious shout as their feet touched down on the street. Blaster fire peppered the windows and doors leading off of the street. It had turned into an all out war zone... and they still needed to press on. As the second rank touched down on the now close side of the barrier Rolf followed, blaster raised.

The street had gone eerily silent and his troops had begun stacking up outside doors leading into the connected buildings, their blasters all aimed at the windows and doors on the opposite sides. They needed to get out of the street. Now. Much longer out here and the rioters would have the advantage of shrouded windows and a clustered target. Steeling himself, Rolf got a running start, raising his booted heel up at the last moment and with the combined weight of his gear and body kicked the door from its hinges. The team across the narrow street had followed suit, breaching simultaneously. As the door came crashing in Rolf's armored form barreled into the entry way and through to the room inside. His blaster was raised, eyes scanning for any threats as he progressed. Much like an amoeba Rolf and his squad moved from room to room, clearing them. And just like that the rioters had seemed to vanish into thin air. That didn't bode well.

With the ground floor cleared he ordered his men to clear the upper floors, establishing a temporary operating base in what looked to be a large family room on the ground floor. Moving the furniture towards the windows, his men began to check their gear during the temporary lull in the fighting. So far they'd gone without a casualty, as long as they kept their wits about them they should easily be able to keep that up. Tapping once more into his comm he listened as the rumble went up a notch. He saw smoke wafting into the sky from the direction of the market. Looks like they'd brought in the heavy guns. The situation was rough here but they met little truly difficult resistance. He wondered how bad the other units were doing. Blaster fire from upstairs tugged at his concentration but he kept his attention focused on the outside. He trusted his men to get the job done. As if to confirm his confidence in them, an all clear sounded on their short range comms. They'd encountered a few stray fighters upstairs but it seemed the rest had fled. Good. They'd gotten this area cleared up but it sounded like they were having a time of it over at the market. He keyed up, patching into the other's comm line.

:: Hitman 2, our objective is clear. We see the smoke from the artillery, do you require assistance at the market? ::

Quickly motioning to his men and using their internal comms they consolidated once more on the ground floor. They had a few blocks to travel if they were to get to the market yet but they could do it. The real question was which way would they go? Track through the buildings or take once again to the streets?

 

[Druchi]

Objective One.
Post Three.
Involves: [member="Rolf Amsel"][member="Rexus Wenck"][member="Ludolf Vaas"][member="Asharad Graush"]
Location: Nar'Tan City Streets, Firefight.

"Sixth squad is it?"

The most beautiful words anyone had ever said to Kierel. In the seconds it took for him to duck under the return fire she gave a curt nod unable to speak. Exhilaration ran through her body. She was going to make it alive, she'd see another day so would her squad. The stomping of one of the Walkers as it began to lay down heavy blast fire and the wailing of the gunships coming over for another run began to flatten the market. They had held just long enough.

"Reinforcements have arrived. Let's blow these suck-"

"All units in the area, this is Field Marshal Vaas. Coordinates received. Please be advised, artillery support incoming. Repeat, heavy artillery support incoming."

It took Kierel a moment to realise that was the overall commander of the First Order. she looked to this newly arrived trooper and as he yelled and cursed she dived out the building yelling for sixth to follow. She could see the dust rising in the air and wondered what could cause that for about half a second before the battery fire from one of the Star Destroyers had the answer. Feeling as if lifted into the air and pulled back through orbit with a thunderous boom. Her ears were ringing. Kierel read somewhere the ringing meant she would never hear in that frequency again and part of her was glad of that - she didn't want to hear the anger of a God ever again. She was looking at the underside of a Star Destroyer as it cut its way across the sky. Jaxor was suddenly above her. he shook her and she thought about not responding and just lying there so she wouldn't have to get up and move and live. Part of her just wanted to lie down and be small and unnoticed. But she turned her head to look at him and he laughed. The other members of the squad were regrouping. Half the building had been torn open from the sheer force of the artillery blitz. She began to regain her senses her hearing came back next.

"You alright Kierel? Kierel can you hear me? We made it! We karking made it!"

That was Jaxor. His voice was exhilarated but also a small undertone of concern when he was saying her name. She merely waved him off and he went to help the others. Telor had been hit pretty rough and needed help to walk. She looked around for the Avian whose house was now destroyed. It was hiding under a table and began squawking. It picked up a holo and the image of a young avian came up. The alien began wailing and water ran from its eyes. All she wanted to do was to hug and cry with the bird. It all seemed so pointless now, the whole invasion for what? A measly few slaves? Reluctantly she turned her eyes away from the heart wrenching scene. She still had to get her squad and wounded out. She still had to protect them they needed her.

"Jaxor, help Telor walk. Ranx is Ranx still alive? Alright you take point Ranx. I need to find..."

She wandered over to the only standing wall of the house leaning over window seeing the stormtrooper on the floor. Her helmet HUD marked him as an officer.

"You alive, whatever your name is?" She helped him get up. "Private DZ-921, you really helped us out there. I need to get the wounded to a safe spot. We'll accompany you guys back to your position?"

She loaded a fresh blaster pack into the rifle.

"Hitman 2, our objective is clear. We see the smoke from the artillery, do you require assistance at the market?"

The question seemed strangely funny to her as she scanned around the crater and burning wreckage, the rubble and bodies. The thing was after a massacre nothing was supposed to make a noise. It was as quiet as when she had first set foot planet side. Only the thrumming of the Star Destroyers and the howl of the TIE engines overhead she could still hear the quiet sobbing of the alien whose home had just been levelled and part of Kierel died inside. But she had to get the people who were relying on her out.

"DZ-921 here, moving to Lieutenant Wencks platoon position. Some Insurgents may still be around advise extreme caution. Over."

 

[Ludolf Vaas]

Objective: 1
Post: 3
Allies: [member="Kierel"] [member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Rexus Wenck"] [member="Asharad Graush"]

"This is madness! At this rate, there won't be any city left to rule!"

President Gral'dul fiailed helplessly in the corner of Ludolf's eye as he surveyed the map. Ludolf turned to the exasperated alien and offered him nothing but a cold expression.

"Nar'Tan's market district is a small price to pay for your continued leadership, don't you think?"

"Yes, well, but..." The President stammered, gesticulating at the holomap that displayed the unfolding scene of the battle in real time. "Can't you tell them to... I don't know... be a little more gentle?"

Field Marshal Vaas exhaled audibly. "General, please fetch our good President some ice water. He seems to have over-excited himself."

As Vaas' subordinate did what he was told, President Gral'dul surrendered the conversation and plopped himself in his chair with a sigh. Meanwhile, Ludolf disrobed himself of his long, flowing black officer's trench coat and made for the exit of the President's room. He was tired of looking at the battle from a holo-display. He liked seeing his battles in person, and he would go to where the heaviest fighting was. As he reached the door, he turned back.

"Tell the men of Sixth Squad and First Squad to hold their positions in those buildings. And ready my walker, please."

It seemed that the area involving the heaviest fighting would soon devolve into difficult house-to-house fighting, but Ludolf would do what he could to assist them. And he would see that the soldiers involved would be commended for taking the brunt of the assault thus far today.

"Sixth Squad and First Squad, this is Army High Command...Field Marshal Vaas is en route to your position, over."

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Objective 1
Post XVII
Involves: [member="Rolf Amsel"] /[member="Asharad Graush"]http://starwarsrp.net/user/12408-asharad-graush/http://starwarsrp.net/user/12408-asharad-graush/ / @Kierel /@Ludolf Vaas
Location: In the thick of it.

Rexus stood slowly, and eased himself up, "Hitman, we're safe and sound, could use some help as escort to forward operating position, over." The lieutenant said, "Kark, you guys alright over here?" he asked, walking over and dusting off some light debris from his shoulder pads. Rexus immediately noted the severe limp in one of the troopers. "Alright, here's the go, you guys'll cover our front, my squad will take the rear, alright?" he asked.

"What about the wounded sir?" a member of his contingent asked.

"Easy, we'll carry them in the middle, if we get caught in a fire fight here, you guys look after them, understood?" he asked.

"Sir, yes sir." The stormtrooper replied.

Rexus put his arm around one of the stormtroopers, and began to help him limp at a near walking pace. He looked over the squad he rescued, and noted there was no sergeant. "Where's your CO?" he asked. Before stopping. "Kark, General Vaas, coming here?" he asked, "By the bloody force..."

 

[Asharad Graush]

Objective One.
Post Twelve.
Involves: [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="Ludolf Vaas"], [member="Rolf Amsel"], [member="Kierel"]
Location: Enroute to Nar'Tan Market.

The Sith Hybrid rose up to his feet.

He received multiple reports from the units within the area.

A lot more than he had initially thought were present in the Market District.

Oh well.

The High Colonel climbed up and over one of the blockades of rock and rubble that had formed as he heard that same Lieutenant from earlier. Something about being caught in the blast. A'sharad appeared to be relatively amused at that image. Too bad he hadn't died. He descended the other side of the rubble. A squad of White Wolves was shadowing him as he strode through what remained of the market streets. Clearing his throat, he waved half of them down another street to loop around.

The splinter of the squad that was looping around had the orders to scour the buildings for any other hostile rebels, while A'sharad's group was heading straight for the Gundark Gunners and the group that had gone to reinforce. "We'll cover them. Have them hurry." The High Colonel slowed as he reached into the Force. There were still living beings he noted a few moments later, ones that didn't feel like the standard Stormtrooper. There were still many rebels about. They were just... Waiting.

Another ambush, or they were calling for reinforcements themselves. Probably better armed ones too. They'd find out soon enough he supposed.

And then he hurried on to group with DZ-921, and Rexus.

 

[Mir Nehrahn]

Location: Varunda IX, Western shelf outside of New Habat
Objective: 5 - consultation for PharmaTech
Dramatis Personae: Mir Nehrahn and Kur Brile of the Luck's Revenge

told from the perspective of Kur Brile​

"What?"

Unintelligible warble-garbling.

"What?" Kur croak-queried again.

More sing-song mumbling came as a response from the backseat of the parked speeder.

The Duros turned around in his seat to look directly at his Ithorian friend. "Trying to say something?" Mir had a penchant for speaking out loud when he thought he was actually thinking to himself. Drove Kur up a wall sometimes. The only way to get Mir to snap out of it was to be as direct as possible... and then some. Finally the Ithorian looked up, blinked a few times, and started impatiently asking questions.

Kur frown-scowled and turned back around to face out of the front of the speeder. "Don't want to hear it from you." More warble-speech floated to the front of the open-air cabin, though consistently clear this time. After having spent a decade together, Kur was perfectly fluent in Ithorese. Which was convenient because Mir refused to use his translator.

"Don't know where they are, doesn't matter." Song-blabber. "Stow it. This is your fault, not someone else's." Upwards-inflection-question. "Yeah, you. Said the Luck's Revenge would only be making a stop for supplies. Been on Varunda for nine months now!" Melancholic words. "Been looking at the same trees for nine months. They get old." Ask-plead.

Kur sighed. "Yes. Still like to look at them. Doesn't matter. Makes me stir-crazy to just sit around and wait. Took this job to get enough credits to make a few jumps. Maybe even get you a connection that pays regularly. Besides, thought you didn't even like the your people that much. Or the Revwians. Too many morals. Why stick around? Get what we need and let's go."

Mir breathed in as if to respond when another speeder set down. Their contact was here. "Right. Let's go. Out you oaf." Kur stood and got out of the speeder and verbally prodded Mir to do the same. He was just the driver and translator for this one. Mir, like it or not, had to do the talking. Kur liked his trees plenty but Mir knew every molecule of every plant there was. That might be hyperbole but Kur would believe it if Mir claimed it.

The two lumbering friends made their way over to what appeared to be a small, human female, at least small in comparison to the Duros and the even more towering Ithorian. "You from PharmaTech?"

[member="Saffron"]​

obligatory tags for the other members of the crew of the Luck's Revenge [member="Daiya"] | [member="Boo Chiyo"] (or whichever character fits these days)​

 

[Druchi]

Objective One.​

Post Four.​

Involves: Rolf AmselRexus WenckLudolf VaasAsharad Graush​

Location: Thick of it.​

​

Kierel nodded and began organising her five remaining combat ready troopers. Ranx would take point, She'd be behind and Jaxor would help with the wounded. The Lieutenant Wenck his ID flared up on her HUD. She approached as he asked where the CO was, then the transmission that the High Marshall would be coming here directly. Clearly this firefight was heating up into something a lot more volatile. She scanned for the scout walker the high Marshall had sent. It seemed to be damaged but still operating and began plodding alongside.

​

"If he's coming here that means there's goign to be trouble, we should regroup with the rest of your platoon and wait for the reinforcements to reach us. As for the CO? Cut off when the fighting began. Haven't heard from the PC or LT since the fighting began. Sergeant.." she gestured with her thumb towards the crumbling wreckage of the market place. "...didn't make it. We're what's left that we know of."

​

The TIE sounds became more distant. The thrumming of the Star Destroyer stayed, Kieral began moving her squad up with the reinforcements. "My names Kierel, yours?" she waited for the answer and nodded in return, internally some part of her wished she had never left the drop ship. Or that she could just lie down. She was exhausted sweating through her armour. the affects of the adrenaline had worn off and as any soldier who has been in combat coming out of it is the biggest come down you can experience. your body racing out of flight or flight and you feel as if your entire body just needs to lie down. Training tells you you cant lie down till it's over or you die. She took a deep breaths for a moment, trying to control her body and get it to move. She was having a hard time keeping up and without the adrenaline she could really feel the now seared wound on her shoulder. It had stopped bleeding thankfully but she'd need to get patched up once this was all over. But she had to focus, as they advanced she kept her eye on the remaining houses. Everything was so quiet bar the running of their feet that seemed to match the pace of her heart. She heard some birds tweeting and call. It reminded her that even if they levelled the city the birds would still be there and sing their songs.

​

She guessed other Imperial forces were creating a perimeter around them and hoped with what space she had made in her mind that somehow her platoon were guarding the exits and hadn't been in the blast zone. That hope sang the same song as the birds did. A very quiet one. It was a she was distracted by this Ranx put out his arm to stop her from advancing to the next street. He held up his hand and signed there were five ahead. She peered around the corner. A number of armed individuals were making a cautious advance from the street on their left towards them. The scout walker was trailing at their rear one of its legs seemingly damaged. The stormtroopers were hidden for now behind a low hanging wall with a tree at the end of the street from which the birds sang and chirped.
"Lt. Five moving up the street, armed blaster rifles. Might be more. Engaging"

 

[Tanomas Graf]

Objective: III

Location: Retribution-class Star Destroyer Reprisal, Brown dwarf star Zeus

Allies: The First Order, [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], [member="Maizono"]
Enemies: Damned Space Pirates
Post: 4/??

Graf let a smug look take over as the rest of the frigates were destroyed and the station began to fall under the ion barrage from the fleet. The shields themselves were the strongest part of any station, second only to the amount of turbolasers that the scum had managed to weld onto the floating piece of junk. The shields began flickering rapidly and the ion lasers started to hit the station, sending waves of electricity over all of the technology and disabling it. A ship (or station) was like a person, destroy or disable enough vital systems and the entire thing would fall.

The comm officer signaled the captain over, the Vindicator was requesting their next course of action. Tanomas was afraid that it would come to them having to board it with troops, as that was the one downfall of capture missions. He gave the order to the comm officer "Signal the fleet and tell them to send their AALs with their troops in the station's main hangar bay, have the fighters patrol around the station to give us some cover if any of the systems reactivate.". Graf sighed with relief until the Com-scan operator announced that a ship was coming out of hyperspace.

Outraged was a word Tanomas barely used in his command career, it was one he saved for the largest fiascoes that were happening in his presence. So when a Relentless-class cruiser came out of hyperspace and started attacking the disabled station, it took every bit of his composition to keep him from having an aneurysm. He immediately stomped his way to the comm console and quickly opened a channel to the ship "Unrelenting this is Captain Graf, hold your karking fire! We're supposed to capture the station not destroy it, it's already disabled!" He barked, this is what happens when miscommunication reigns supreme in combat he thought, you have unknown ships coming in and thinking they're helping.

Hopefully the ship would cease fire before the station ruptered a fuel line and the whole thing blew, 'Hopefully' he growled in his head as troop transports dodged friendly turbolaser fire to attempt to get into the station.

 

[Visser Chernykh]

Varunda IX
Objective 2, Post 3

"Only you've come but there are more of you. Why?"

"More than one of us wouldn't help. I know what we all know here."

Equality wasn't something Mael had considered. There'd been a hierarchy for most of his life. Always someone above and below him. The Tyia elders were merely first among equals based on wisdom.

"You'll have to make a decision eventually. A decision about what path you will take. Towards the Light and redemption or towards the Dark and damnation."

He said nothing but only nodded slowly. That was the essence of his inner conflict. He stood at a fork where his life would change either way. The fear came from making the wrong choice.

"In every choice, you will gain something but leave something else behind. No being can have everything."