Side by Side ... by Side [First Order Dominion of Anoat Sector Hex]

[Darth Veles]

Leaving two savagely obliterated battle droids and one disabled console, Darth Veles abandoned the security station in haste. The Dark Side slowly crept into its dominant role, sapping back the strength it had offered, a price the Mon Cal had to pay now. He could feel it in his bones, this strange tingling sensation followed by sudden aches of weakness, wounds screaming about being reopened. Naturally, Veles refused to lie down and die – another would do that for him. Hopefully his student was kind enough to leave some rebels alive! Admittedly, he had paid little attention to her antics during the climactic battle against two mighty sentinels guarding their turn off button.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Decima’s presence nudged his own, shining like a beacon for the Sith Lord to follow. The young woman’s telepathy was getting better – and she constantly worked hard on improving her skills, unlike many Sith Acolytes who wished to be granted great power solely for being Force sensitives. And so Veles went after the brunette’s faint signature. No longer bothered by the ever-present droid forces, Veles roamed the empty Republic warship’s deck undisturbed, passing by the disabled and destroyed droids. Truth to be told, he should have expected to run into his old group of rebel ‘friends’. Without the turret indiscriminately dealing hardly avoidable death, it was logical for them to press forward the moment the situation allowed. Literally crashing into them as he rounded another corner was a most welcome gift though – now Veles did not have to scour the entire wreck. If only all of his targets had always delivered themselves to him!

One of the squad raised a gun upon spotting the familiar Mon Calamari. Fortunately for Veles – or all of them – the rebel leader’s hand acted faster than his comrade’s trigger finger, pulling the barrel of the blaster rifle down. The entire group seemed to ease up after this gesture; many of them undoubtedly felt very grateful to who they assumed to be the newest member of their little band of rascals.

“Our work is done then,” the leader’s rough voice spoke, “I must admit, you have saved our lives, even if…”

“Indeed!” Veles chirped with a large smile plastered on his face, “Now we’re even!”

His fingers pointed towards the small group – smaller than he remembered – and released red strands that attached themselves on the surprised men and women, robbing them of health to improve Veles’ own. Not a nice thing to do, and Veles did not enjoy it, but he owed them nothing now, having disabled the droids that would have turned them all into lifeless sacks of meat. The rebels screamed, fell, cursed, yelled; all in vain. Their only luck was that the Mon Cal realized they have saved his life, and thus his honour denied him to suck them dry of life.

“My darkest apologies, dearest friends. I accept your surrender and guarantee the First Order will judge you fairly,” the Sith Lord officially declared after his own pain was mostly gone, the Dark Side satisfied and all rebels laid at his feet.

[member="Decima Fortan"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 10/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

Upon arriving on Hoth, Dunames had the pleasure of seeing the prefabricated chalets now being up, and it was as advertised: if one had an appropriate crew of droids, the chalets could be up in hours. Dunames was more than just the go-to lady for transportation infrastructure: she was one of the two (or three, if one [member="Valessia Brentioch"] returned to First Order service) ladies that the First Order government relied upon for different aspects of bread and circuses. Dunames was more of an extreme-sport buff, knowing that podracing, alpinism and alpine skiing were considered extreme for most among First Order citizenry, whereas [member="Marzena Choi"] took care of the arts and show-business. If Marzena and Dunames both dealt with the circus part of what Taking Off on a Star Tour called the Bread and Circuses of the First Order, then was Valessia more one to deal with the bread? Or did she take on yet more aspects of the circuses? Bread was mostly under the purview of the Ministry of Agriculture, whereas the First Artists Guild and the Ministry of Transportation dealt with the circuses.

"Incoming! We have the rest of the supplies to finish the ski resort"

"Will I ever go back to Lanteeb?"

"What are you complaining about, Frank? You think the Ministry of Transportation was led by incompetent fools? They had their reasons to let us deploy the station on Mount Ison this early"

"A power droid! That ought to help until the power core has been assembled"

"We let the droids work at night. The Skels stay in their caves by night"

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 11

Just as the last body was giving its last twitch, Decima Fortan plunged her lightsaber into another door into the chamber, cutting a crude circle before kicking the doors in and then stumbling through the rapidly-cooling edges. She was bruised, with a bloody lip and her hair was an absolute mess, but she was not seriously injured. "Master Veles," she called, genuine relief flooding her voice. "Are you all right? What happened to you?" She clambered over some detritus and then picked her way across the room, avoiding the dead bodies by watching where she put down her extremely fashionable cold-weather boots.

When she got closer, she was able to examine [member="Darth Veles"] with a little more success, but since he was a Mon Calamari and she was neither doctor nor xenobiologist nor fishmonger, she couldn't say for sure what -- if anything -- was ailing him now. "What are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?" That could be said about any location on Hoth, but she was sure he would catch her drift. "You're missing all the fun." She grinned and stood back from him, palming her lightsaber anxiously. "What are all these ships doing here, anyway?" she asked curiously, finally looking around at her surroundings, her curiosity liberated now that she had no need to be concerned about Veles' safety.

 

[Caid Centurion]

Post 4
Location: Anoat Surface
[member="Aram Kalast"] | [member="Gemma Cavataio"]

"Sir!"

Caid paused at the open doorway of the shuttle's troop bay and turned to regard the Lieutenant. "Be brief, Lieutenant." The shuttle was, for the moment, obscured by cloud cover and flying a pre-approved flight plan trajectory towards the most proximate noble house with direct ties to the First Order. It was merely a matter of consequence that they would first have to pass over one of the...less-than-accommodating noble houses on the way.

"Command just sent a notification. There is another Ren being sent in support."

Caid narrowed his eyes at the Lieutenant. He didn't really have time to deal with this. "Fine." The Neophyte's words were almost completely lost to the air as Caid allowed his body to fall from the shuttle. In less than a minute, the Ren landed just inside the inner perimeter of one of the estates. His landing hadn't exactly been silent, however. The degree to which he'd manipulated the Force to cushion his impact and the impact itself caused multiple loud crashing sounds to reverberate across the estate. He did not care, however. From behind the featureless black mask that covered his face, silver-green eyes focused on the sprawling palace that catered to the corpulent noble.

Glossy black hilt was in his hands just as his body blurred into a swirl of silver and black advancing rapidly upon the closest external defenses.

None would survive here today.

 

[Darth Veles]

The young woman’s presence grew stronger and stronger with each passing moment, the sound of fighting throughout the warship’s corridors dying out. And then her figure stood right there, not looking all that much better than him. For some reason, the Sith Lord found the thought of Decima falling prey to the same whims of fate as himself quite amusing. Fortunately, a quick scan of her form revealed no serious injuries, prompting the Mon Cal to walk past the heap of freedom fighters who have done a better job than the bacta patch on his torso. Only when the confident strides of Veles' booted feet carried him close to Decima, the amphibious assassin abruptly stopped, turning his high domed head in her direction and fully revealing the yellow colour of corruption painting his eyes.

“I am quite fine, thank you,” he assured in thick Imperial accent, bowing gracefully, and flashed his polite smile to further support his words. Although his appearance strongly suggested otherwise, the Mon Cal did feel alright all things considered. Feasting on the life energy of others had pulled him out of the grave, that was for certain.

“While your forces are busy with Echo base, I have discovered this little operation,” he stated, webbed hand motioning towards the unconscious men freezing on the ground, “There they are. Resting after conducting their own search – for experimental weaponry within these Republic ships, dating back to the Great Galactic War. Now, what can I do for my fellow Imperials?”

Veles started to move again, through the very same hole Decima had made in the door. All he had to do was to follow the path she had carved through men and metal alike. The sloppiness with which Decima had ended the rebellion’s efforts did not escape the Sith Lord’s observation; he needed to refine her way of lightsaber combat.

“Oh, and Decima? Please call some of your boys to come and arrest the remaining rebels.”

[member="Decima Fortan"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Cloud City
Post 10

Isla finally moved to stand; she listened closely to the explanation that her fellow Ren provided. This world of the force seemed like a tree – all of the powers born of the same source, but branching out far and wide. She turned away for a moment, her green eyes shifting over the ledge and to the streets below. What did she seek? It was something that she had contemplated during the last moments before falling into sleep, but she had yet to truly know her answer.

Her lips pressed together as she thought, and her eyes narrowed. Isla’s family never had much in the way of wealth, but it was something that she had learned to live without, it had never been something she had coveted. As far as fame went, everyone had at least a small desire to be known. And she was no different than the next when it came to power, she wanted more.

“I suppose I want the things that everyone wants,” She spoke, turning to face [member="Kriel Firin"]. “Power, knowledge, skill, vengeance.” Back home she had few opportunities to better herself, but now she was faced with seemingly endless possibilities. She only needed someone to show her the way. Isla was willing to learn from anyone that might offer, be it Sith, Dark Jedi, or other – but she felt tied to the Ren, there was a thread of familiarity now.

“I will do what is asked of me,” Her head bowed slightly, “My loyalty is to the Ren – for they are now my family, and the Citadel is now my home.”

 

[Sentiri]

Location: A seedy cantina at the Konn-Nevos Spaceport on Burnin Konn
Objective: Recover or silence the captured Resistance Agents
Allies: [member="Hyori Tal"], [member="OK-3103"]
Enemies: Unsuspecting Burnin Konn Security officers
Post: 2

The team was assembled. They had made their own separate ways to the rendezvous point to avoid suspicion. After all, there were only so many purposes for an individual to find themselves in the floating boat of a city called Konn-Nevos. And that purpose certainly wouldn't be a vacation. Sentiri's cover story was simple and succinct: a freighter captain carrying parts and technical supplies to the spaceport being paid partially in credits and partially in metal ingots. The simpler the cover was, the easier time she would have deceiving others into believing that the story was true.

Of course, technically speaking, the story was half true. She did have technical supplies that she sold off and she was still waiting on the shipment of ingots to be delivered to her freighter.

However, nearly every part she had transported to the world had been bugged. Those bugs might not be immediately useful on her present mission, but they would continue to be useful in the future. Also stashed among the supplies was her own technical equipment. At first, the surplus had looked like just a bunch of loose parts set aside for her next delivery to wherever she was going next. After arrival and delivery of the cover parts, however, she had assembled them all and the cargo bay of her freighter had become a mobile surveillance center.

She knew the other two members of their little band had their own cover stories as well. And meeting at a cantina for a drink? Well what else was a spacer supposed to do on such a miserable world?

Too easy.

"The drones are away," Sentiri stated. She had already swept the table and the surrounding area for counter-surveillance and had found no such thing. Why bother bugging a pitiful cantina on a pitiful world? "Here is an ear-comm and a pocket projector," the Chiss woman continued, slyly passing out the equipment to the others as she spoke. "The comms are keyed to each other and to the drones. They have a stealth-tech covering that blends to your skin tone. The projectors will display images from the drones. They switch feeds with a dial and will key on and off to a selected drone's audio feed with a click of the dial.

"I'm controlling the drones from my freighter. They are all currently in position and on standby or in auto-search mode. They will alert us if they find anything with a buzz to our earcomms. I'll also be monitoring the holo- and datafeeds of the security while you infiltrate."

The typically short-worded Chiss ceased her part of the brief. She felt comfortable with all of her tech floating about. Eyes everywhere, seeing everything, hearing everything.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 12
Hoth: Ice FIshing

"My boys?" asked Decima with a smirk. "I don't know that I like the sound of that, Master Veles. It's not entirely proper. But I'll call in a First Order extraction team when we get back to the surface, if that's what you mean." She fastened her lightsaber to her belt so that she could pick it up again quickly, if needed. "You don't have to do anything for me. I came because you weren't at your ship and I was worried. But now that I know you're alive and serviceable..."

She canted her head to one side then frowned thoughtfully. "...ish," Decima amended. She was concerned, but knew better than to question [member="Darth Veles"] over his health. "We had word from [member="Itaska Relens"] that any available Ren is asked to lend a hand on a reconnaissance mission. I thought we could -- that is, if you're able and willing -- head towards his coordinates and see how we can pitch in." She inclined her head, folding her hands in front of her. "That is, if you weren't planning on something else already. But we should probably get out of this crumbling wreck before it collapses in around us. I cut my way though some bulkheads, so the Force only knows whether it's structurally sound anymore."

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 11/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

Hopefully the prefabricated housing would prove to be warm enough to be of use to the tourists scheduled to arrive here after Operation Shatterpoint ends. Dunames, Frank and Virginie all sleep on a bed, of which the prefabricated chalets have four apiece. The gasser fireplace is not activated while the occupants sleep, and for good reason: it is too dangerous to operate without a droid or a sentient to watch over it. Oh you could say that they are themselves trying what the tourists will experience on Hoth when the facility goes live and, if there is anything wrong, work out any bugs before the Mount Ison ski resort goes live. Hopefully the armor is warm enough to allow Frank to sleep in it in the confines of a chalet. But, as far as skiing is concerned, Virginie is the most experienced of the three. Tomorrow morning they will test the chairlift for themselves and Dunames will remain at the base to observe, alongside a probe droid, while Virgnie and Frank will ski on one of the trails that is being touted as "the most incredible slopes in the galaxy."

"Good night everyone! We have earned it"

"Roger, boss"

"Frank, use these blankets: we will all need it tonight, even with you underneath a duraplast armor wearing a helmet you can only take off for medical care"

"Remember, Virginie: you're the one teaching me alpine skiing. To most First Order residents alpine skiing is an extreme sport and considered as such"

 

[Kriel Firin]

[member="Isla Ashen"]

It was an easy question. It was an obvious question, yet it was rarely asked and even then, it was difficult to know if the answer was entirely truthful.

But Isla took her time, which Kriel saw as a good sign. Yes, she might be concocting some elaborate lie, but it was more likely she was being clear in her own mind about what she wanted.

And there was no single answer, no test that had to be passed with the correct words. But the answer said a lot about the person speaking.

“Everyone?” His tone suggested he did not approve of the generalisation, but he moved on without further reference to the word. “Power, knowledge and skill are useful but they are often not the driver of a person, merely the tools they use to get what they want. I accept some just want to be powerful, or hold knowledge, but most want it for a reason. And I wonder if your final offer holds the key here.”

He faced her directly, his mask not showing his eyes, which were burning brightly now — but his voice betrayed his emotion. “Vengeance? For what and against whom? Do you seek power and knowledge for this purpose alone? If so, what will you do when you get this vengeance you seek? When will you commit to the Ren and leave your personal ambition behind? The Order’s goals should become your goals. Perhaps we need to deal with this vengeance first, to allow you to allow yourself to become a true Knight of Ren?”

 

[Darth Veles]

“That’s alright, Decima, we all have to contribute to a better future,” declared the assassin in response to her apparent worries, offering another smile meant to ease her concern. Recovery within bacta tanks would have to wait until the end of the mission – duty and work definitely held higher priority over his own well-being, even though Veles was not technically an official part of the First Order.

“Furthermore, it will be a perfect opportunity for you to grow stronger, friend.” He added smugly.

Although not raised by the First Order and without any obligation to assist them, the Mon Calamari still felt a bond of kinship between himself and this breed of Imperials. Their ideology matched his own to certain degree and also followed a modernized version of Palpatine’s heritage. Since the empire that had provided for him existed no more, Darth Veles found it quite easy to get behind the First Order’s ideals and consider its citizens as ‘his people’. That, and he found the change of working alongside sane and reasonable individuals to be quite refreshing. Perhaps the time has come for the proud fires of patriotism to be rekindled.

“We shall move out and assist Itaska Relens.” The Mon Cal commanded in smooth delivery.

Leading the way with surprising vigour, uncharacteristic for an injured cripple, the Sith Lord swiftly passed through the silent decks, the thuds of his boots hitting the screechy metal accompanied by the occasional gust of wind lost within the ship’s entrails. With Decima keeping up at his heels, the Mon Cal decides to address the matter of their relationship as master and apprentice.

“This is the last time I ask you, so think carefully before you answer. Do you still wish to become Sith?”

While the prospect of a Sith Lord offering his wisdom and skills sounded generous, Veles would not hesitate to get rid of her in case she proved to be a liability. There’d be no going back after this; success or death, the way of Sith. Trials followed by trials, a frantic fight for survival.

After finally freed of the metal tomb’s confines, having climbed through Decima’s entrance, Veles took deep breaths, filling his lungs with icy air. The freezing cold numbed the pain at least. His cloak waved wildly again, playing in the wind until the amphibious assassin draped it tightly around himself and pulled his hood up, concealing most of his body underneath the heavy mantle’s protective warmth.

[member="Decima Fortan"] [member="Itaska Relens"]

 

[Gemma Cavataio]

It was a test. Many things had been a test in her long life, so the idea of it didn't frightened her. The cold of the galaxy sometimes did not sit well with her though that was a completely different matter, and one she'd forgotten when she'd been informed that they had reached their destination - Anoat.

At the belt, under the heavy cape, Gemma checked if the force imbued sword was secure, as well as the hilt of the lightsaber. Ma'dri had given them to her, temporarily, when he'd left to Dathomir, making her promise she would return those weapons back to her when she returned. Gemma quickly understood that the weapons were not important, only her return was. The new black and silver mask on her face hid it from those around her. The First Order was very different from the world he had arrived from but Dathomir was not where she belonged, not after everything that had taken place in her house. Death and betrayal. That was not what Gemma Cavataio had been raised to believe.

So, instead, she had gone elsewhere in the galaxy, following the Centurion blood within her. Ma'dri had been cryptic in her explanation of the other side, though she'd been clear about one thing. Caid, a brother that had been born long after she had been put to sleep was there. As was Pa'tre. Possibly. It was always tricky with Pa'tre, knowing for sure just what he was doing. Though he'd been a wonderful father for all she could remember, he had a way about him that was different from all other people in her life.

A small shuttle had been issued for her, a pilot leading her to the primary destination where she'd meet Ciardha Ren. "Your exit," the pilot said at last and began opening the hangar doors as he descended as low as he could. Gemma glanced below, holding on. The drop down wouldn't be much and she could already see flashes from the estate below. She was running just a tiny bit late, Gemma noted as pulled back and made her body run, jumping out into the cold air, descending quickly. Size mattered not, a quiet little voice reminded her as she concentrated on the Force, still free falling, summoning it to bend to her well, slowing her body down just before she'd hit it, allowing her to make a small jump at the end, landing on her feet.

Next, she noticed the blurred movements ahead, the estate's defenses targeting it. Ren. The mask hid her face still, though the laser canon nearest to her detected her presence. Gemma's head turned to look it for a second before jumping to the side, rolling further away before she concentrated again, standing still. She let it come this time, her hands raising as the laser rapidly moved towards her. She concentrated further, the power she was calling to bend to her will stronger. And then she pushed deflected it away, the dangerous light hitting just a little to her side.

[member="Caid Centurion"]
[1]

 

[Tyger Tyger]

“Time was, people didn’t write new songs,” he said to her, but something about his manner suggested he was, in fact, “confiding.”

“They didn’t make new stories, either.”

Milo took his time as he eased the record from its sleeve; ancient, lost technology. As it was, it was priceless, impossibly rare. Irreplaceable. But it was a fortunate hallmark of “these old things” that they were built to last, and not to be replaced with each new iOS launch. Gingerly, he laid the disc upon the turntable, set the needle in place, and let it go…from where the object would whirr to life, the slow and gradual build of a accordion, and then a drumbeat, and then bass rhythm.

It was in these lost songs that Leia had begun to express an interest in that way that she did -- Bobbing up and down, hovering in his orbit, trying to draw him over to the machine during their long bouts of silence, until Milo would finally acquiesce.

“They stuck to classics. The same lyrics, over and over again.”

Until he finally showed her how to use the “antediluvian” (in its new, relative meaning) device, imparting to her what of art and culture he knew that did not first past through an Imperial Censorship Bureau. In this way, ideas of her as some sort of “time capsule” resonated within him.

If nothing else, however, he owed it to her to provide some degree of entertainment when he left her to the ship, abandoned to the stillness and the reality of his potentially not coming back.

“And if there was anything special to say…something left out in the original telling…Well, that was on You. It came out in the manner…The way you sang it, or told it – that same old thing."

Perhaps it was wrong to keep a child cooped like this; isolated, out of school, the illusion of safety forever dispelled. But by Milo’s reckoning, in the history of life in this universe, there are kids who grew up in much worse. There were kids doing it now.

“Because, since the beginning, everything what’s happened – it ain’t nothing new.”

The only real measure of rightness or success in this whole goddamn creation was whether or not they survived.

“Everything is as it always was…for good or for ill.”

Leia watched the bounty hunter as he spoke, her eyes big with wonder, pupils like black holes sucking the information from the universe. It was not often that he spoke like this, especially about something with no practical importance. He set the empty record sleeve upon the table adjacent to the player, and the two watched it for a minute.

♫It was a slow day…and the sun was beating on the soldiers by the side of the road…​

There was a bright light…a shattering of the shop windows…​

The bomb in the baby carriage was wired to the radio.♫​

​

Slowly, Tyger Tyger turned to the girl. She was bobbing to the rhythm.

“But…maybe….Maybe you can find a different angle on it.,” he reflected aloud, letting her see him as he watched her. She smiled.

It echoed, the ghost of a smile haunting Milo’s features.

“And maybe, one day, you might show us how to find this new world that’s been hiding under our noses.”

These are the days of miracle and wonder.

Varonat
The Great Jungle
0045Z​

There was a crash of thunder. Milo awoke within the “Prime Shadow,” rocked under the turbulence of torrential rain. This was a rainforest, after all. They should have expected as much.

“ONE MINUTE!,” shouted the jump-captain clad in Imperial Officer regale, standing between two open doors in the craft, a short Kevlar rasp gripped as the only means keeping him from tumbling out of the doors and into the night.

“ONE MINUTE!” “ONE MINUTE!!!” “A MINUTE!,” the Stormtroopers echoed struggling to drown out the beating of rainfall. They were packed tightly within the cab of the shuttle, side by side by side, shuddering with anxiety -- Guns affixed to lanyards upon their jumpgear, ripcords affixed to rifle handrails, clicking against armor with each new twitch. For the most part, their collective gazes watched their equipment, their shoes, the aircraft floor, but the man across from Tyger Tyger strayed from the pack.

The trooper’s helmet bore tiger stripes of green camo, and he sat in his seat, hands on his knees, cool as a cucumber he shared his pigment with. And he stared directly at Milo, unflinching.

So Milo stared back.

“PORT SIIIIDE!,” shouted the jump-captain, reinforced by the Stormtroopers. “PORT!” “POOOOORT!” – as they scrambled to get to their feet, bumping into each other as they took up space within the center aisle. No sooner had they got in line did the jump-captain shout, “STARBOOOARD SIDE!!!!,” pushing Milo into the alley as well, his whole side shuffling into the pre-existing, ill-fitting line. He lost sight of the invasive trooper, falling about two soldiers behind him. “STARBOARD!" “BOOOOARD!!!”

“HOOK UUUUUUPPPPP!”

“HOOK UPPP” The sounds of 20 odd clasps “UPPP! HOOK UP!” clinking open from the handrails “HOOOK!” and fastening around the static line running through the center of the cab.

“I CAN’T GET MINE OFF!,” the soldier in front of Tyger Tyger shouted, his arm wrenching back and forth as he tried to unclasps it from his weapon. Lightning, then thunder. The craft rocked and all the men fell backward upon each other, staggering in place to keep from falling down entirely.

“EQUIPMENT! CHECK!,” shouted the jump-captain, the jumper apparently unheard.

“EQUIPMENT!” The men sounded checking the ensure their weapons were properly secured. “I can’t!” “MENT CHECCCCK!” They checked over their jump equipment – limited operation jetpacks – ensuring they would indeed hold them, that their ripcords would pull correctly. “WAIT! WAIT!”

“OKAY!,” the troopers shouted, slapping the back of the person in front of them, starting from the rear of the cab. “I’M NOT READY! I CAN’T GET THIS –“

Tyger Tyger stepped forward and grabbed the soldier, shaking him into composure. The bounty hunter grabbed his clasp and quickly undid it from the handrail, slapping it correctly in place on the static line. He then slapped the trooper before him, “OKAY!” And the saga continued.

“GETTTTT! READY!!!”

“GET READY!” “GET READY!” “REAAAAADDYYYY!”

And then they waited. Perfectly silent, all eyes fixed to a little red light in the front and center of the cab. Nothing but the incessant ping of rain on metal and their unconscious mind, screaming in the background about how man was not meant to fly.

Milo swallowed hard.

The light went green.

“GO!”

The first trooper dove out the door, disappearing into the night.

“GO!”

And then the next, the jump-captain grabbing the line and ferrying it out of the way of the door. Each trooper stumbling forward upon one another as the line converged upon that single point.

“GO!”

“GO!”

A sudden lurch, somebody slamming on the brakes.

“Jump-Captain! I have a bad feel--!,” the jumper pleaded. The jump-captain reared back and Sparta-kicked the noncompliant out the door.

“HE SLIPPED! HAHAHAHAHAHA!,” he cackled madly, grabbing the next ripcord line. “GO!”

“GO!”

Tyger Tyger stepped up to the door, his nerves on fire. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of every step, every minute movement he made. He looked at the jump-captain’s eyes, handing his line off in a way that was awkward in its roboticness. Without thought, he turned and flew out the door into a plummet so far down his brain couldn’t really even process the distance anymore.

He couldn’t see anything. Turbulence and momentum twisting sensory details in his mind. It was a just a blur of night and wind until….he felt a sharp pull at his back.

And then he was back, the full moon illuminating the world above the jungle.

The ripcord ignited the jump back, its low propulsion struggling to hold him aloft, but failing, per design. His fall was decelerated, sure, but he was still falling quite fast…down, down at the blackened canopy below, rain pouring down, matting his hair. The sounds of gunfire sounded from below, soldiers already having landed, having met ambush. He unclipped his bowcaster as he fell.

And suddenly, he saw it. Saw them. The morodin heads, reaching above the treeline, snapping fellow jumpers out of the air and into their mouths, the android screams of the voice filter barely audible above the torrent.

Tyger Tyger fired, the sudden recoil of the weapon causing his pack to sputter somewhat as it was forced backward. The beam hit a morodin, its head splattering its goo about, before the lumbering monster fell, knocking a tree down with it. He re-aimed, trying to ignore the sounds indicating what a death trap they had unknowingly lept into.

WOMP​

Milo reeled, he thrashed – primally aware he had been torn from the sky. He tried to shake it off, tried to figure out why he was falling.

“Pleasedon’tpleasedon’tpleasedon’t,” said a mosquito in his ear. Apparently, the pack belonging to the jumper behind him took in too much rain and shorted, dropping them directly on Milo’s back.

Milo struggled as his pack did, fighting the fellow jumper. “No. No!!” He was crying, “Please don’t!”

There was a sudden relief as he once more began to decelerate, the other trooper falling into the canopy and disappearing entirely until his shrieks were replaced by that overbearing cacophony of blaster fire.

Deep breaths – Yoga breathing, co-opted for Military application. Huh huh haaaaaaa, Huh huh haaaaaaa

He was falling too fast. His pack was fully functional again, but it wasn’t enough to undo 7 seconds of falling without it. Refastening his bowcaster to his kit, he braced himself for impact, shielding his face.

And crashed through the canopy.

Branches snapped under his momentum, and he grunted as bounced jarringly against tree limbs on his periphery. They slowed his descent, albeit painfully, before finally depositing him into the wet, tall grass, and moist earth. He groaned as he hit, resisting the urge to move.

It was so dark down here. Slowly, Milo brought his engineer goggles over his face and engaged the nightvision function.

“Oh, gods…Somebody…”

A tinny voice called to the black.

Red lasers lit up the dark, met with the fierce growling of their predator, of their target – some battle far off, but still way too near.

“I think…Oh, kark…My leg’s broken! Kark, kark, kar-“

RAAARGH​

A morodin tore from the dark, its mucusy slug-body shining where it could. The fallen trooper cursed the creator and fired upon the monster as it lunged for him, driving a spear that may as well have been a log at his frame. Milo drew his bowcaster once more and engaged.

The trooper dispatched, the morodin howled again, sections of its body blown off in a splatter. It charged Tyger Tyger, and there was a roar, and the thunder, and the exploding of tree bark, and an unbearable flash of light.

Then darkness.

"Varonat"​

| Next​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 13

Decima followed [member="Darth Veles"] through the bowels of the ship, ruminating on the question he had asked her. Did she still wish to become a Sith? Becoming a Sith had never been her aim -- not in and of itself, anyway -- so she wasn't sure what the honest answer was. Becoming Sith was a way of achieving power, and achieving power was a way of making a difference in the galaxy. She wanted to become Ren, and though the two didn't necessarily cancel one another out, she wondered if the Sith was the best way of achieving her goals. She thought of Veles. He was not a generous instructor; he didn't seem to like her much, on deeper thought, but Decima didn't much care about that. They weren't there to be best of friends, he was there to teach and she was there to learn.

By the time they emerged into the tundra, a blizzard had begun. She still hadn't answered. He had asked her to think carefully, and so she was. "It's this way," she told Veles after consulting her datapad. The ping of her ship's transponder would lead the way. Before they set out, she called for a prisoner pickup at their location and set off a signal flare. Afterwards, she plodded on, more or less snowblind with only her thoughts and the Mon Cal for company (so -- only her thoughts).

When they arrived at their ships, the wind had died down a little thanks to the geography. She followed Veles to his ship. "I wish to become Sith," she said firmly. "Will you teach me?"

[member="Itaska Relens"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Post: 12/38
Location: Bespin
Allies: First Order
Enemies: Unknown
Objective: 6 (build a ski resort on Mt. Ison)

A blizzard was brewing up outside Mt. Ison. At that point Dunames had no choice but to acknowledge that their prefabricated shelters were to be thoroughly tested, especially if Virginie's claims are correct that blizzards of that magnitude were par for the course on Hoth. Will there still be a ski resort once the blizzard subsides? Will the droids deployed to construct it still be in condition to finish the work, by day or by night? Droids have one advantage: they were less weather-restricted in their work. But they may risk oversleeping in their chalet especially if there is an avalanche brewing. The First Order would have the most incredible ski slopes in the galaxy but at what cost? Would these be costs that would also need to be incurred on Nelvaan, Ando Prime? She was more used to tropical planets (Dulvoyinn, Lanteeb, Verkuyl et al.) or desert planets (Ringo Vinda)... and Virginie would be the go-to lady for that sort of things. Once they awaken, in an attempt to turn the gasser fireplace on, they gather around said fireplace while Virginie lights it up:

"The Ministry of Transportation told us: Do this on Mount Ison and you will add another possible crown jewel in the First Order's bread and circuses"

"Tell me, Virginie, are the blizzards here worse than on Ando Prime or on Nelvaan?"

"No. I was a synchronized figure skater, but I also tried alpine skiing for a while. Most ice planets with good alpine skiing tracks do have some blizzards from time to time. Are you satisfied with the housing we have here?"

"The outer planks may have shrunk a little but the sealing foam is here for those cases"

"Count yourself lucky that I have sealing foam in my armor"

 

[Saki lin]

Late to the party my apologies)
Location-hoth echo base cell....she can't remember
Allies-???
Enimies-resistance

So here she was on hitherto sitting in a makeshift cell....which was to sayquite literally just a hole in the wall with a ray ray to keep her in...especially since when they tried to apprehend her after stopping her ship she may or may not of inflicted major burns couple dismemberment of people and fried a few of their brains with lightning

But hey she had radioed in she was just letting her hyper drive cool down and they acted in foreclosure wasn't her fault they died she tried being peaceful

But now she sat in her cell unmoving in a meditive position radiating her force signature out and keeping her body warm since these people decided that proper treatment of prisoners was not important....she get her revenge soon with-

A rumble occurred....then another....she could hear men running past and alarms blaring and gave a grin as she focused all her power to becoming a beacon of a sorts with her force signature

She just had to hope someone used the force.....

[member="Decima Fortan"][member="Dunames Lopez"][member="Dunames Lopez"][member="Decima Fortan"][member="Amin Garith"]

 

[Valae Heavenshield]

Location: A seedy cantina at the Konn-Nevos Spaceport on Burnin Konn
Objective: Recover or silence the captured Resistance Agents
Allies: [member="OK-3103"], [member="Sentiri"]
Enemies: Unsuspecting Burnin Konn Security officers
Post: 11

Hyori’s head barely turned as their third member arrived, offering an apology for his tardiness. Being punctual was part of her being, a way of life built into her mind so securely that she often forgot that others were simply not programed that way. Now that their team was assembled, they could carry on with their meeting in peace... well, not really. For it was far from peaceful in the dreadful cantina, at least the volume of the patrons was loud enough to cover their discreet discussion.

Agent Tal accepted the ear-comm and projector provided by the Chiss. The former she slid gently into place as she adjusted her hair, and the latter was stowed securely in her pocket. It seemed that Sentiri had things ready to go, and she would be able to work holed up in the security of her freighter. She did not know much about her fellow agent, but she did know that she had a penchant for tinkering with her tech tools.

Her dark eyes shifted in the direction of the man, a man that she had not met in person, but she knew of him. Lieutenant Meneer Chrome, outside of his white armor, he could pass for any normal man. The agent would not waste time trying to get acquainted with him; she was not here to make friends. If his service record was any indication, she felt that they could work side by side easily enough.

It looked like it was her turn to speak.

“The latest intel we have on the three agents is that they were taken into custody here at the spaceport. They are currently being detained in the security complex near here – the only one in the city.”

Their mission was fairly straightforward, but Agent Tal knew that simple things had a way of becoming complicated.

“We’ll be meeting a contact of mine outside the cantina – uniforms, access keys, and schematics will be provided. Assuming he makes good on his end.”

 

[Kira Vaal]

Location: Anoat
Post: 04 (Various characters)

Kira had managed to get back to the Falcon undetected as far as she could tell. Her ship was sat in the centre of the building pit, a shadow-dock if you ever saw one, well hidden and probably the safest place currently on the entire planet thanks to the First Order presence that had seemingly appeared overnight.
Removing her hood as she approached Kira took in the YT and the two other people, a human and a wookiee, who were currently working about the ship with various tools scattered around them.
“Ah your back.” Alasdair, the human said as he slid a pair of welding goggles away from his face. “Took your time as always.”
“Didn’t have much choice.” Kira said back as a hand rolled through her hair. “We’ve got company it would seem.” She tried to get an instant read of Alasdair’s face but was unable to yet again. The long-term Underground Agent merely stared back at her with a slight curve to his left eyebrow.
“Company?”
Charlwook gave a curious growl from the maintenance pit he was sat in, questioning eyes looking towards Kira.
“First Order.” She pointed towards the sky which was obscured by the sealed door of the shadow-dock. “Arrived last night apparently.”
“The First Order on Anoat? Doesn’t really make sense, I thought they weren’t interested in this backwater?” Alasdair wiped his hands on a cloth that was attached to his belt.
“Well apparently we were wrong. I’m not sure whether its an interest or just a coincidence but they have been more aggressive of late when it comes to territory.” Kira responded as she gave Charlwook a smile to acknowledge him approaching the pair. “Eitherway I have a bad feeling about it.”
Giving a growl Charlwook shrugged his shoulders.
“We probably should let the SIS know at the least, the Alliance would be interested seeing as its on their doorstep.” Alasdair agreed with the Wookiee. “I can get a link set up?”
“Not yet.” Kira said with a sigh. “If they have all the communication blocks on we’re going to need some time and if we start broadcasting they will find us quicker then a Jawa to a wreck.”
“So we will just sit here then?” Alasdair said.
“No we have somethings we can get done first.” Kira responded. “We have Underground assets on planet, if the First Order are definitely here and plan on occupying we need to get those assets out or destroy them.”
“True.”
“Charlwook, you keep the Falcon prepped. We may need to get out of here fast. Alasdair, your coming with me.”
“Just me?” Alasdair threw a thumb at the ship. “What about…?”
“The droids will just draw attention and Nekwa…I dunno. He’s been ill, best to let him rest.” She extended her thoughts to the small creature who was currently sat in his quarters. She just hoped nothing bad was coming his way.

 

[Darth Veles]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arMu4f8rnBk​

No interruptions disturbed Decima’s thoughts on their way to the ship. Only once the Imperial duo entered Your Deathbed’s safe and warm confines, finding a well-deserved shelter from the permeating cold after their icy adventure, did Decima’s lips utter that fateful sentence. Veles spun around without hesitation, his amber gaze meeting the brunette’s hazel-green in search for the fires of determination to succeed. No longer sick with the Dark Side’s yellow hue, the Mon Cal’s orbs displayed the patience of a parent observing their offspring, a curious mix between disbelief and hope followed by a sweet smile curling the corners of his mouth.

“Of course.” The Sith Lord strokes his whiskers and lets out an overly joyful chuckle holding a dark promise of things to come.

“Be warned though, my dear friend – becoming a Sith won’t be an easy path. The weak die. Only those who grow in strength and adapt live long enough to reach for the Sith mantle.” Much like him, the woman would be carved into a perfect surgical instrument of death, possibly greatly enforcing the First Order’s grip on the galaxy. That, or she would die. Whenever the Sith Order had attempted to water down their training methods in order to ensure as many supplicants as possible lived through the harsh training, things usually ended in disaster – the One Sith serving as a prime example of that. As such, Decima Fortan would receive no special treatment; Veles would fully expose her to the Sith ways of old, the same he had gone through. All to ignite her passion, teach her to utilize it properly, bend the Force itself to her will, become a master of the Dark Side – and ultimately, a true Sith.

One quick stride brough him closer to the woman, his voice somewhat softer despite still carrying the commanding undertone.

"Persist. Learn. Adapt. Survive... and you have my word you will be granted the power you crave."

His eyes shifted towards his newest student’s lightsaber, a hint of distaste for its crude shape mirrored within Veles’ glassy stare. One step back had restored the original distance between them.

“If you believe yourself to be worthy, worthy of your Imperial heritage, then your resolve shall be tested,” muttered the amphibious assassin carefully, his Imperial accent positively betraying the Mon Cal's true origins, and marched into the stealth vessel’s cockpit, “All in due time though. There are still rebel cells that require our immediate attention. You will travel with me; this ship does not carry the risk of alerting the opposition to our presence prematurely. For now, please, feel free to borrow any book you’d like."

His flippered hand elegantly motioned towards a smaller library-like cabin filled with Sith-related materials. History books, biographies, commentaries. It became obvious Veles hobby of hoarding such things bordered on obsession. Once seated in the pilot’s chair, the sharp-edged stalker took off, cutting through Hoth’s darkened sky like a razor.

[member="Decima Fortan"] [member="Itaska Relens"]

 

[Isla Ashen]

Cloud City
Post 12

Isla had easily left behind her life on Skye; she had walked away from the only home she had known. Without so much as a thought spared for the ‘family’ that would carry on without her. But there was still a part of her past that troubled her, even if she would not readily admit it. It was like a shard of glass stuck into her back, a painful and sharp reminder of the birth parents that had abandoned her, and never once looked back.

Her feelings went far beyond simple resentment.

She did not have fantasies of a family reunited; she only wanted to see them for herself... just once. And Isla wanted them to know the fear, sadness, and heavy weight of hopelessness that she had felt growing up. It was selfish, and she knew it. It was something that certainly did need to be dealt with.

“It is a wish to punish a mother and a father,” She voiced, looking into the mask of [member="Kriel Firin"]. “For leaving a child abandoned in the woods.” Isla said, like she was speaking about someone other than herself, her voice distant and detached. “Then – perhaps I can be free.” She nodded, green eyes closing for a moment. “And worthy to become a true Knight of Ren. Will you help me?”