Shoring Up | First Order Dominion of Anoth and Faldos

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Anoth, Mountainous Approach to Fortress[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Objective: 3[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Post: 1[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Anoth may have once been a habitable world, perhaps even a pleasant one, Pharazon mused, but no longer. Captain Pharazon Draken and the 189th Stormtrooper Grenadier Company were not there for sightseeing, however, they were advancing up the rocky and mountainous approach to a great fortress of the old galaxy. They had come for fire, they had come for blood. A little over two-hundred Stormtroopers were on final approach to the fortress, slowly, methodically, grimly they made their way across the treacherous terrain until at last they reached a relatively flat area of ground that lead to the defensive perimeter of the fortress.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Pharazon, signalling a stop for the company and quickly ordering every platoon to take up defensive positions and set up their weapons against the forces, used his helmet binoculars to observe the fortress. He was entirely unsurprised by what he saw, pirates and mercenaries, lots of them, dug into the fortress and the mountain side like the filthy parasites Pharazon knew their kind to be. [/SIZE]Banners flew, and decidedly recent weapons positions dotted the fortress. Relaying confirmation of their presence to command, and observing the defensive layout of their perimeter, Pharazon barked out an order he always enjoyed, “Hydros get the mortars setup and calibrated for full barrage, target the defensive positions, entryways to the fortress and any vehicles and pirate scum out in the open".

[SIZE=11pt]The scum shall know the price of disobedience, they had their chance as I had mine, and now, they shall die Pharazon darkly waxed internally, his orders were now clear. Wipe them out, all of them.[/SIZE]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Objective 1
Post 4

Bartoo wheeled along inside the passenger compartment of the shuttle. The seats had been removed and replaced with comfortable cushioned couches along the bulkheads. At the far end were two coolers, one stocked with foodstuffs, the other with water. He levered the water cooler open and used his manipulation tool to pull a chilled water bottle out of, then wheeled forward back to the cockpit and offered it to Pierce before turning to the computer and plugging himself in.

Chittering to himself, he ran through the standard diagnostics, managing to squeeze a little more juice out of the compressor for the air conditioner and work out a bug in the propulsion system. He wheeled his head towards Pierce and whistled at him.

//DECLARATORY STATEMENT: I HAVE IMPROVED EFFICIENCY OF THE AIR CONDITIONING SYSTEM BY 0.00012%, CAPTAIN FORTAN III. I ALSO TOOK THE LIBERTY OF REVIEWING THE ENGINE SOFTWARE. YOU SHOULD NOT EXPERIENCE THE SAME ERROR FEEDBACK ON DUSTOFF. IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE I CAN DO TO ASSIST YOU, CAPTAIN?

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective 4
Post 13

Because of her damage, the woman said it like it was her fault - it wasn't. If those posh-poodoo lawyers hadn't had showed up she would be fine, she would be on Onderon kicking back with her folks but no here she was out in the middle nowhere having to deal with an Auli'i that preferred to be docked at the colony as opposed to dealing with gravimetric strains. It only made Amaya curious as to the material she would need to reinforce the hull with. Amaya took a step back from the panel, the Auli'i roared angrily but her systems would hold the on the spot rewiring to manually reroute power would have to hold. The twenty-two year old woman ran up from engineering and dispatched her two droids down to keep it going while she got back to the controls. "Alright, we'll head to your office to have that conversation." Her wounds weren't too serious nothing a few slaps of bacta or a medstim couldn't fix.

At this point she waited this out, fingers along the panel to keep an eye on the Auli'i's systems the mantis calmed down once they were out of the distortion but she certainly looked the part of taking a heavy beating. Once the force cylinder was in place, Amaya was able to board the Shamballa. Indeed the sight of academic types threw the young girl off, she wasn't used to seeing so many and any actual coats she had seen were that of the Order of the Sacred Lotus when she got her annual check up. She swore they were asking for death by poking her so many times. As she walked through the ship she gave a long whistle, Amaya stopped off to grab at caf and cake before taking her seat.

When Ashin did arrive, Amaya had already wolfed down most of her food.

"I guess?" Bequest? The feth did that mean? "Um you're a what?"

Amaya picked at the crumbs on her plate, as she studied Ashin carefully. "Cousins, okay - well listen, as I was saying a bunch of lawyers showed up saying your mother left you something they wouldn't tell me what it was because I apparently have to go to Naboo. Which by the way, I was - I..." She pushed the plate away and put her hand around the cup of caf, "I am not this Cardei's kid. I was born to a trader alright? So this, this is a mistake - or it had better be a mistake." The last thing she wanted to accept was that her life had been a lie.

[member="Ashin Karrde"]

 

[Progflaw99]

Location: Open Air Market, Faldos
Objective: 4, Escape the Market
Post: (10)

Buruk's thoughts were interrupted by the almost vice-like grip which descended upon him like the deliverance of a life sentence - merciless. The fully armored Mandalorian found himself hoisted to his feet and beyond, a large metal staff catching just below the edge of his helmet as he was lifted into the air. He struggled, his arms reaching up and grasping the bar as whoever it was - A Gamorrean - the thick fingers and greenish flesh a hint as Buruk caught a flash of movement in the corner of his vision. Kicking backwards at the knees and groin of his foe he lashed out to no avail.

The grip was strong and as Buruk struggled to break it, his mind began to fade in and out - and then it struck him. The jetpack on his back was normally used for launching the man into the air, but a final thought creeped its way in as his vision began to fade. With a subtle click, he activated the jetpack in a last ditch attempt to escape the creature's grasp.

 

[Ishana Pavanos]

Objective: Anoth
Post 14

Ishana drew her attention down to the information being sent by Nils. "Ten-four Savage."

Changing her comms channels, "tighten up on me, energy signatures at X-Z-2 and L-N-3 are where we're going to poke our noses. Weapons ready, fiends." She ordered as she guided the Defender through the stars. Anoth's gravimetric turbulence was going to make this beyond interesting.

"Savage, heads up reading pockets of gravimetric distortions around Anoth - stay frosty."

As they neared the chunks of rocks, her own sensors were having trouble getting a read on the energy signatures. Her hands hovered over her sensor panel as she tweaked a few of the instruments. She didn't like not being able to see who it was that was ahead of her, "whoever's out there they don't want to be found. Can't get anything - or at least it doesn't-" Her hand flew back to the stick as the system read, 'missile lock.' Feth. "Formation break, Varactyl Pattern."

Fiend Squadron at the point broke off from a tight square into a flying V formation with Ishana's Defender pushing up fast to flip over into a drop-speed to evade the missile headed for her. Her hands gripped on the controls as her body adjusted to the Gs. "Alright I don't know who the feth you think you are," she said to no one in particular. "Fiend Squadron you are weapons free." In that instant the squadron locked onto the enemy fighters.

"Didn't get a read on'em Savage, whatever they've got on their boats - it's blocking or throwing off sensors."

[member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Daska Tess"]

 

[Hansen]

Agent Totallex
Faldos Surface, Overlooking Open-Air Hanger.
Objective: 1
Post: 2

Spoiler: Equipment

• 1x FO-X1 Infiltration "Shadowtrooper" Armour
• 1x DLT-19x Targeting Blaster
• 1x DC-15a Blaster Rifle
• 2x Vibroblade
• 1x N-20 Baradium-core thermal detonator (Black)
• 3x M1-VX "Vee Ex" Grenades
• 3x M1-NR "Nerve" Autoinjector

Jaina leaps upto her feet and slings DLT-19x over the right shoulder. "All skull callsigns this is skull three, proceeding to tango bravo out." She pulls up an antiquated DC-15a Blaster Rifle, holding the short blaster carbine in both hands. Jaina takes small steps down the wood and metal ramps of the crane scaffolding and reaches the bottom to find a smuggler brandishing a blaster rifle waiting for the lone sniper although by the time he realises the spectre of death looms before him it is too late. Jaina gives a single recession of trigger against Receiver and the ionised plasma bolt whizzes through the man's chest and he doubles over clasping at his chest, gasping for air and dropping his blaster rifle laid on his back staring up at the silhouette with open hands limp against the stone ceiling above the open-air hanger. Jaina levels the clone-wars era blaster at the wounded man's head and gives the trigger a jerk; A single 'bop' and the man goes limp staring up towards the drizzling rain clouds, crimson fluid washing away with the rain. Jaina holsters the blaster carbine before turning gaze towards the blue diamond on her holographic HUD, she wouldn't risk moving through the tight alleys; Jaina needed the rooftops. Between Jaina and the next rooftop was a widish alley, additionally the next rooftop was four feet higher than currently; It would be a difficult jump to be sure and falling the three stories would mean two broken legs and a broken arm if she got unlucky. Jaina bounces on her knees for a few moments before sprinting, growling through her teeth like some predator on the hunt whipping herself into a physical frenzy. Boot comes to the edge of roof and Jaina leaps with arms thrown high into the air!

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Objective 1
Post 5

"Very good, Barineker," said Pierce. "Stay in touch."

He squeezed the stress ball in his left hand, tossed it to his right, then tossed it up to bounce off the top of the cockpit cabin. He was bored, and tempted to plug into the operational channel that his fellow fighter pilots were on. He reached for the channel knob a few times before biting his knuckle. Blast, he muttered under his breath, turning just in time to see BB-10R2 roll up with a bottle of water. He took it with a mutter of thanks and cracked the lid, then took a drink.

Maybe babysitting duty wasn't so bad, he mused.

"Thanks, Bartoo," he said. They sat in amicable silence for a few moments, then -- "Bartoo, you normally research the places we're deployed, right? What can you tell me at Faldos?"

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Anoth, Mountainous Approach to Fortress[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Objective: 3[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Post: 2[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Mortars calibrated and ready sir!” came the deep and ever jovial and eccentric voice of Hydros. “Very good, await my order” Pharazon replied crisply, still crouched and surveying the fortress. The pirates did not appear to have spotted them yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they were spotted or the pirate manning the sensors actually looked at his readouts. The pirates and their lord may have been enjoying the fruits of their spoils, but Pharazon and his Stormtroopers were aggressive and ready for combat. Each and everyone of them felt the rush of adrenaline flood their bodies as the crouched alongside the other members of their platoons, blasters ready to spew fire and death.[/SIZE]

The pirates manning the defensive positions were the typical type of scum one would expect from pirates in wild space. Though they were noticeably armed, Pharazon noted. A quite successful and powerful pirate lord controls this fortress no doubt… [SIZE=11pt]Pharazon considered, he had worked for pirates on occasion during his time as a fugitive in the Outer Rim and knew how dangerous and cunning they could be. Even if they were scum. Which was why Pharazon was taking no chances, his men were arranged in a spearhead formation, the mortars were loaded and ready, his megablasters were set up to rain death upon the pirates and covering fire for the Stormtrooper charge. They would advance in stages, using the rocky and [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]mountainous[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] terrain to their advantage. They were combat veterans, they were ready to fight, kill, and die.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Mortar and megablaster teams, fire on my mark, three… two… one… fire” Pharazon said calmly, though his aggression and desire to kill these wastrels was evident. The exterior portion of the fortress under assault by the Stormtroopers exploded figuratively and literally. Flames, blaster bolts and shrapnel consuming all those caught in the path of the initial onslaught of the Stormtroopers. A moment passed, then another, smoke filled the entire area and wafted from the mountainside [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]eerily[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]. A final moment.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Grenadiers, advance!” Pharazon roared, leading to his feet, blaster rifle in hand as the company began the initial assault on the fortress.[/SIZE]

 

[LT-137]

Objective Two​

Post Seven​

​

​

Time held little meaning to the blind, as Amit strode across the filth stained earth towards the settlement over the hills. The man couldn’t perceive its passing as he once did, and had chosen to ignore the constant urge underlying his every thought that demanded to know just how long he had been walking. While he could spend the time to figure such trivial details out, the pursuit would be pointless. Why did his body yearn to know the exact count of minutes that had transpired from his departure? Was it the lingering echoes of a life that he no longer lived, seeking to assert dominance over the one he now embraced? He couldn’t be sure.

Nevertheless, it was a worthless venture that stole his attention. Amit needed to prepare himself for the bloodshed that would inevitably come. He wouldn’t be dragged down into the depths of Chaos with their screaming souls this time. He wouldn’t lose himself. The former Imperial Knight had a lifetime of decisions and experiences that had prepared him for the horrors of combat - whatever Gods this universe held true, be damned if that went to waste.

So he breathed. The simplicity of the gesture had calmed the rising tempest of his consciousness, allowing him to gird himself in proverbial Iron. He had to be strong when he delivered the Order’s message. They had to see that their twinned fates stood before them and that the future of whatever lives they had scratched out upon the surface of Faldos hung in the balance. While he had previously hoped that they would make the right choice, a part of him - deep within the recesses of his conscious miasma of a mind - expressed the hope that they would also see the consequences of their actions too.

As sinful as they were to live in such squalor before they were brought to the light, those within the rusted walls beyond his immediate surroundings would have to be baptized. Cleansed of their filth so that they may cast off the chains of their previous lives and find happiness within the righteous light of the First Order.

 

[Progflaw99]

Anoth Sector, Anoth​

Approaching the planetary body​

Status: Close​

Post (11)​

​

Shooting forward the pilot kept a firm but gentle grip on the controls as his eyes scanned his readouts. All systems nominal, weapons systems hot, shielding engaged at a light level, engines at full burn. It was almost poetic. Filtering out the background noise he listened carefully as he adjusted course, his squadron following close behind. As Songbird's voice cut through on comms, he acted instinctively as Fiend Squadron broke formation and quickly initiated evasive maneuvers. This is where the fun begins.

Quickly guiding his flight above his sensors finally pinged something - or rather, many somethings. Fighters, looked to be like a bunch of refitted Z-95's painted all black with some sort of sensor dampening material. Or at least, that's what he presumed. He gave it little thought as he squeezed down on the dual triggers of the controls, laser cannons and ion cannons suddenly lighting up space as his full squadron followed suit. Spinning and climbing, Nils sought to get up and behind the fighters to enact sweet sweet justice at the end of his laser cannons.

​

[member="Daska Tess"] | [member="Ishana Pavanos"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Sara Lee Jones"]​

 

[Hansen]

Halle Ren,
Faldos Surface, Bar.
Objective: 2
Post: 2

Spoiler: Equipment

• Halle Ren's Battle Armour
• Anariel, Spire of Light
• F-11D Blaster Rifle
• First Order Rations
• Chemical, Biological and Nuclear Helmet respirator filters.
• Black Cloak (W/Red Lining)

Halle leaps over the table and receives a shot to the ribs and she yelps in pain; crimson trickles down her flex-armour and reinforced duraplast plates. As her choking victim rises to his feet Halle buries Anariel's blade into his torso before quickly withdrawing the crimson red lightsaber, the young disciple wraps her left-hand around the criminal's back and extinguishes Anariel before quickly drawing the F-11D blaster from its holster and shooting the mercenary to her right; leaving the meatshield between her and the remaining combatants. It was embarrassing for Halle to be forced to use a blaster like this but admittedly she'd not trained adequately to block attacks with the sabre. Halle is, however, an adept at fighting with sabres but that was useless here with several targets shooting at you. Blaster bolts slam into the shield's body and Halle tries to peer passed his frame and awkwardly aims the blaster in the men's direction and by some miracle manages to strike two men, leaving only one. That beckoned the question, where did the others go? Halle drops her shield who falls at her boots limp, still as an undisturbed pond. With blood leaking from her body, Halle musters as much strength as possible and she lifts the man off of the ground, pulling Anariel from her belt she snarls a question. "Where. Are. The Others!?" Not thinking clearly, Halle receives no answer from the choking man whose back finds itself slammed up against the great oak wall of the whiskey house.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Objective 1
Post 6

BB-10R2 finished his diagnostics and turned to Pierce as he asked about the history of the planet. Bartoo chittered an affirmative response and accessed his memory banks.

//EXPOSITIONARY STATEMENT: HISTORICAL INFORMATION ON FALDOS IS LARGELY UNAVAILABLE, CAPTAIN FORTAN III. PLANET'S LOCATION AND RELATIVE IMPORTANCE HAVE PREVENTED ACADEMIC STUDY OF THE PLANET AND ITS HISTORY SINCE THE PLAGUE YEARS. HOWEVER, THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS AVAILABLE IN THE ARCHIVES. PLANET FALDOS WAS THE SITE OF THE BATTLE OF FALDOS, PART OF THE NAGAI-TOF WAR, APPROXIMATELY FOUR YEARS AFTER THE BATTLE OF YAVIN. THE NAGAI DEFEATED THE ALLIANCE OF FREE PLANETS BUT HISTORICAL RECORDS DO NOT INDICATE WHETHER THE NAGAI OCCUPIED THE PLANET. THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL RECORD REFLECTS BATTLE DEBRIS BUT IT IS UNCLEAR WHETHER IT ALSO INCLUDES OCCUPATIONAL EVIDENCE.

Bartoo turned his photoreceptors to Pierce and chittered a query.

//INQUIRY: CAN I PROVIDE ANY ADDITIONAL INFORMATION, CAPTAIN FORTAN III?

 

[Progflaw99]

Location: Open Air Market, Faldos
Objective: 4, Escape the Market
Post: (12)

The smell of burning flesh and fabric filled the air, the sickeningly sweet aroma of death amidst the flames. As Buruk's jetpack had activated, the exhaust nozzles had been pressed firmly against the Gammorean's chest - now a mess of burns and open wound, the creature had cried out, a long bellow shattering the relative silence. One unintended consequence of Buruk's hasty action had been direction. With the Gammorean's polearm firmly wedge between chin and chest, the weight of the beast had sent the Mandalorian spinning down the street instead of up into the air - directly towards another structure, this one not nearly as flimsy.

With another crash and a rattle of armor, Buruk slammed into the durasteel wall, this time crumpling to the ground as the circuitry in his pack shorted out but not before running him across the ground for a few meters. A groan could be heard from the man as he fought to rise, only to fall back into the dust. He knew he needed to get up but it felt like his lungs were on fire, his body protesting every movement - what had been a simple snatch and grab had turned into an almost all out warzone.

 

[Ria Misrani]

Objective 4
Post 15

"C'mon now blue, don't be shy I know you like to feel al'pretty." Sal joked as they walked into the office building, it was a rather casual place and as he looked over to Zethim he had to chuckle. The man was dressed in a new suit, "you know I can see your hold out blaster."

"If that's what you're calling yours these days," Zethim quipped the office building wasn't too shabby, on the outside at least but on the inside it was falling apart. They were here to make a sweep of the contents. Guards would be patrolling around for sure, but Zethim wanted to try and play things out diplomatically at least. A team of FOSB agents began to infiltrate the building, six months of undercover work wasn't about to get wasted, not today.

Sal was part of that work - well - professionally speaking. The Zambrano took off his hat for a moment and adjusted his vest as he looked around, "could probably use this for your little debt collection scheme."

The Chiss raised a brow as he led the pair into a lift. "Ladies first."

"Easy now," Sal didn't much like the term lady as he settled into the lift beside Zethim. "So how do you want to approach this?"

"They say yes or they die, it's that simple."

"Right, that's how you spooks do things."

"As opposed to your guns blazing in the hopes you can out shoot the others?" Zethim was a bit insulted, "at least this should prove more effective."

"And if it doesn't?" Sal questioned.

The agent simply smiled, "that's why you're here."

"Charming..."

 

[Syra]

Anoth, Fortress.

Objective 3: Blood Money.

Post 1

A man without a face... at least that's the title he was beginning to acquire as his work became more advertised and widespread with each successful job. So much success in fact, that it got the attention of the First Order; however, the job was up for grabs for just about whoever had the right work ethic. And Syra couldn't have felt anymore obligated to prove his worth once again.

Except, there was something not known about the contract killer. Something more sinister and foul than any mere swindler with no care for starving families, or the various death squads that would take life sooner than ask more than once for what's owed. Something altogether unnatural resided within the mind and body of the hired hand. It was evil, unrelenting, and wise. And it wanted out.

Aboard a junker shuttle, Syra arrived at his destination under a false pretense that would make the target demographic of pirates and criminals believe that he was there to make a bargain; a deal that would otherwise paint a false image of the First Order as frail, submissive. To give them a false confidence that would make the proverbial lethal injection much more easy and stress-free. The darkness of the shuttle's interior came to life with a crimson emergency light, painting the bounty hunter in a foreshadowed coat of sanguine that would soon be quite literal.

The opportunity to kill was finally at hand, and the darkly clad stranger with no face would give these mongrels a nightmare they would never escape from. The shuttle had landed.

"Alright boys, this here is supposed to be a diplomacy to get us to haul ourselves away from this fortress, ya'hear? No shootin', no nothin' unless they give us a hard time. Got it? Good." A grouping of pirates grumbled and quietly agreed with their authority, all armed with firepower ranging from mere sidearms to repeating bolters, all of which would be fatal if one wasn't careful. "Alright, here it comes." The hatch of the shuttle crept open tediously, the hydraulics on either side of the door hissing with decompression.

Slowly and menacingly, Syra stepped down the ramp, features virtually indistinguishable due to being draped with a rather large, yet tattered black cloak. A dull sheen from the sunlight drowned in the faceless void of the unknown's helmet, almost as if it were unable to penetrate the palpable darkness consuming it. Syra stopped a few inches away from the defacto head of the pirate group, not saying a word.

"Hey uh... what is this?" The pirate chuckled and turned his head towards his crew. "We made a bargain for weapons and tech, but we get a freak-show? Hah, get lost before we blast you." An uproar of amusement spread over the marauders like a virus, each man laughing harder than the next. Syra stood for a moment longer before speaking up, taking a moment to analyze the situation.

"You're all as daft as you look. A shame, really, you would have made exceptional servants."

"Huh?"

Without sparing a second more, a dark purple lightsaber hissed to life, being skewered through the sternum of the would-be negotiator. The fiery blade crackled with foul energies, even giving the appearance of a cross-guard just above the grip. The rest of the crew opened fire, but each bolt was slapped away or deflected back into their direction, knocking a couple of the raiders to the dirt.

The unknown killer charged forward, ripping through each of the men with cruel, ungraceful fortitude. Their bodies grotesquely strewn about and dashed apart among the entrance to the fortress. "You are the vessel that shall become my humble abode... you are strong, and I shall have you embrace this gift. Unleash me..." A whisper stirred in Syra's mind, urging him.

This wasn't truly about the credits, more-so the revival of an entity long forgotten.

But soon enough, it would be remembered.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Amaya Verd"]

S.S. Shamballa
Anoth High Orbit

"I see."

Ashin took a long sip of ice water.

"In certain cultures, Naboo for example, a single young noblewoman who becomes pregnant will often consider giving the child up for adoption. It's viewed as a responsible, respectable choice, not a matter for secrecy or undue stigma. My donor, Varanin, was raised by a family of traders on New Cov."

Another sip.

"I can't speak to your case with any kind of reliability​, but one of my researchers looked back about two decades and found a picture of a younger, pregnant Ajira Cardei. Public records don't show her with a child. The inference is obvious. Fortunately, it's easily demonstrated, too. This is a science ship, and I'm a clone of the second cousin of the woman who might be your genetic mother. Our medical droid could determine whether we share any genetic material."

 

[LT-137]

Objective Two​

Post Eight​

​

“Halt stranger!” A voice had said, it’s resonant notes cutting through the silence as if it were a sharpened blade. “You’ll go no further. Turn back!” It took everything Amit had not to let his lips curl into a knowing smile. The man didn’t realize that there was no turning back from this path. Once he had stepped off the boarding ramp and had traversed the surface of the planet, the only way that the former Imperial Knight would be able to take was the path forward. He had been given this task, and though it conflicted with his spiritual ideals, the man would see it carried out until the end. His honour wouldn’t allow him to infringe upon itself by submitting to doubt. He had to be steadfast in his beliefs, the rock that forms the foundation of the future.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He said, projecting his voice into the wind, forcing it to be carried towards the distant speaker. “I bring forth a message, and seek to speak with those who have the power to act upon my words.”

There was no reply, save the subtle caress of the tugging breeze. Amit waited in silence as those within the walls had sought answers. The man could feel the duality of curiosity and fear building within their auras, staining them with a vibrant kaleidoscope of patina hues. Baking beneath the heat of the overhanging Sun, the Disciple felt a surge of impatient irritation flutter through his feet, nearly stealing the man’s bodily control, betraying his hidden and rising ire. “What's taking them so long.” He said beneath his breath, whilst his mind fished for an answer.

It was then, just as the man’s foot was about to tap against the cracked surface of the earth that the voice had returned - bearing forth a response.

“You may enter with two others, but those that have come with you will remain outside. We’re not interested in trouble.”

There you have it, Amit mused. Just think of all the problems that would be solved if one tribe had spoken to another in such a manner. This world wouldn’t have rival gangs, nor would they despoil their proud heritage with the sins of greed and opulence. It would’ve been possible for them to have openly embraced the light of Imperialism - yet such events had not transpired, leading them all down the darker path.

One day they would know the warmth of Imperial Truth, just as his flesh had once again learned of a Star’s scorching radiance.

 

[Pharazon Draken]

[SIZE=11pt]Location: Anoth, Mountainous Approach to Fortress[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Objective: 3[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Post: 3[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The grim and disciplined tide of gleaming and [/SIZE][SIZE=14.6667px]spectral[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] white armoured Stormtroopers surged forward against the fortress under the cover of a mortar barrage and a savage stream of lancing blaster bolts erupting from the dug in megablaster teams. The pirates, though surprised at the ferocity of the assault and the shock of suddenly being assaulted by an entire company of Imperial Stormtroopers, remained the same brutal and ruthless warriors and plunderers they had been moments ago. The moment they realised what was going on those outside who survived the initial onslaught immediately took cover and began spewing forth a counter barrage of blaster bolts and slugs against the Stormtroopers. Several Stormtroopers were killed instantly by blaster fire, others were seriously wounded, and others still were winged or grazed yet still carried on. The Stormtroopers fired as they advanced, using the rocky terrain to their advantage, with some squads or platoons covering another squad or platoon as they moved up, and then vice versa. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The pirates were as relentless as they were brutal, however, with more savagely armed and armoured humans and aliens of all descriptions pouring from the fortress. Yet so were the megablasters and the mortar crews. Pirates were scythed down in some areas as soon as they exited the fortress in an attempt to reach their outer defences, while others within bunkers on the perimeter were buried under tonnes of concrete as their fortification was systematically destroyed in a coordinated barrage of four mortar crews expertly firing brutally accurate shells one after the other.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]On the Stormtroopers pushed. Pharazon lead them at the tip of the spear, blasting pirate after pirate that was fooling enough to expose themselves in a futile attempt to shoot him. He ran forward, relentlessly. Taking a thermal detonator from his belt as he ran, he sent it soaring in a graceful arc right into the middle of a formation of pirates manning a repeater blaster, sending their bodies and their body parts soaring in a hail of fire. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The mountainside was nearly perpetually red from the flashes of hundreds of blasters nearly continuously being discharged.[/SIZE]

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Objective 1
Post 7

Beka took a left turn and pushed her way into the cantina, where she would meet her contact. She took off her sunglasses, tucked them into the neck of her blouse, and strolled over to the bar. "Morning," she muttered.

"Morning," he responded. "What'll you have?"

Beka smirked. "Juri juice," she said. "On the rocks. Lots of 'em."

A moment later she had a sweating glass in front of her, purpley-red liquid around a glassful of ice. She took a sip and then leaned back against the bar, scanning the rest of the cantina. It wasn't very crowded, and she immediately knew the contact when she saw him. It didn't hurt that he was staring at her and raised his hand with a goofy smile the moment she looked his way. She took her drink over to his booth. "Sav?" she asked.

"Yesmem," he said, tipping his hat. "Yesmem. You are bringing credits, yes?"

"When I've seen the wares," Beka said. "Not before."

"Yesmem, of coursemem," he said, raising his hands. "We will go -- when mem has finished her drink?"

"Yesser," said Beka dryly. "But while I do, why don't you tell me what I'm about to see."

 

[Kuzo]

Objective 2
Post 1
In scene: [member="Amit Nykoan"] [member="Kyrel Ren"]

"I'll go with you."

She had been silent up until then. But Doctor Irajah Ven stepped forward now. Petite, slight of form and unarmored, she stood out from the rest of the gathering. Short, dark, curly hair bobbed around her chin in the breeze. Though she wasn't dressed in her usual white lab coat, the armband she wore marked her clearly to those beyond the walls as a medic. She carried a portable med kit in one hand, and no visible weapons. The rest of those here were soldiers, and she assumed that her presence would be less troubling than some of the others.

"Hey Doc, you sure that's a good idea?"

She smirked at the man and gave a shrug.

"Maybe not, but that's never stopped me before."

She stepped up beside Amit, sharp hazel eyes glancing over at him before back up at the walls.

"Tell the others with you to back away from the walls, and you will be admitted."