So Uncivilized | The First Order Dominion of Shasfath and Korbin Hex

[Vek Calridge]

Post 2
Obj: 2, dont die
Samka Derith Kyrel Ren

Whack you'll never be a pilot you fool. Whack The First Order would never accept you anyway. Whack You are a slave! You will work here until your last dying breath! Whack Vek was only twelve when his slave master cracked a whip against his back after finding out he wanted to become a Tie pilot. He planned to beat the idea out of him he supposed. As Vek lay on this beach unconscious his past flashed before him. Working on pirate ships, beatings, stealing, beating, building, beating. By the age of eighteen he was immune to the feelings of shards of glass against his back. He never thought of it usually, but he supposed being on Korbin again brought it back. The feelings of pain from the shard of metal in his gut reminded him of the shard of metal he used to carve the First Order symbol on the left side of his chest. All the memories swirling as he laid there.

He started to regain feeling as his skin was kissed by the ocean breeze. His black gloves sifting through the sand. He was laying on a bed of vegetation, little ferns crushed under his head. His eyes twitched open to see a girl standing over him, looks like he had been found. But he was expecting officers and stormtroopers not whatever she was. He groaned and sat up feeling the shard of metal ripping his flesh. The girl locked eyes with him and he furrowed his eyebrows, stammering "Who, who are you? Where am I?"

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Kyrel said nothing as the craft zoomed through the atmosphere accompanied by the two squads of Stormtroopers, as well as the latest Disciple of Ren known as @Felix. He did not know much of the boyish girl, but like all Ren had recognized her potential as perhaps one of those to lead the next generation of the Knights of Ren. Still, he had not said a word to her, wearing the new armor known as the Raiment of the Vigilant, an armor taken from a sect of Grey Force Users and heavily modified to resemble traditional Ren armor, and even cues of Kyrel's obsession with the infamous Lord Vader. He felt shielded from the curious eyes of others and thought that was better than perhaps being out in the open.

The craft had landed on the beachhead and all the while Kyrel could feel something as if a dark whisper had reached out to him through the Force. He could feel that it was Decitus reaching out with her own power. Calling him to her to which he would gladly come and assist her. The Stormtroopers had spread out looking forward into the jungle that had lied ahead, one of the troopers looked to the Master of Ren and spoke. "Sir what is our next move." "Fan out and search the Jungle. Decitus is here finding her though is a different matter." Kyrel replied and the trooper nodded, ordering the rest of the men to slowly head into the jungle.

All the while Kyrel could sense something, something that had excited him to his very core. Unlike the darkness that he felt that was Decitus, he could feel something that was filled with Light. Either a Jedi was here as well or someone just as strong in the Force. He was eager to complete this mission all the more as he might even cross paths with the Jedi, as well as Decitus. He looked to the Disciple before moving to the Jungle. "Stay close Disciple... We are not alone in this place."

[member="Vek Calridge"] [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Ember Farseer"]

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

The Core Worlds​

Somewhere of No Real Interest.

Even since the One Sith had collapsed the core worlds had known little of established political control. What was once a bastion of the galaxy and a prime example of what the rest of the outer territories could aspire to be were now a slowly rotting pool of state planets that continued to chase what deal was best for them throughout the many factions vying for the core’s control. The average citizen would live as they ever had, unaffected until one of the wars came to their own borders, but the uncertainty and relative lack of larger governing bodies had left the core ripe for the picking when it came down to illegal means of business.

For people like Bandaak, the situation was one that made his life far more enjoyable and much, much more profitable. The lack of governmental bodies had allowed Bandaak, who happened to head a particularly established running operation to push his interests deep within and without of the core. The green tinged Twi’lekk opposite him was also part of this daring criminal system, however unlike Bandaak, Veergo was what he would call a ‘Dirt Runner’. Each of them for the passed three months had met each night in the Wiltering Winds, a small cantina that operated as a money laundering fix for Bandaak, to play cards and talk of operational licences beyond their current borders. Today however the conversation was not what Bandaak wanted to hear.

“How much?!” Frustrated at how calm Veergo was being a pair of cards were thrown down without any want to really continue the game that had begun several hours before.
“Reports vary, just under a million perhaps, maybe more.” Looking at the abandoned cards the Twi’lekk sighed and put his own cards down, replacing them with his drink. “None the less, its a large amount of stock that we’ve pretty much had abandoned.”
Bandaak cursed, his hand clenching. A million shouldn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things, but not this one. This stock was pure and ready for the core market, the masses rolling in excess credits willing to pay for their next innocent high. “Do we know what happened? At least tell me whoever it was is regretting their decision.”
“They dropped the entire ship and ran.” The reply was tinged with slight annoyance. “Scared off by a rival gang, or some local trouble we don’t know. We haven't been able to find them. There are whispers that it may have something to do with the order.”
“The First Order?” Again Bandaak moved to curse, however he caught himself and paused momentarily. “The First Order have no control over the Shasfath Sector? Why would they be involved?” The Imperialist expansion had put worry on many of his operations throughout what was once safe space, but their war with the Alliance had also lined his pockets with many ill-gotten credits.
“There is no evidence. Only rumours.” The Twi’lekk leant back in his chair. “Recently that Ren of theirs ordered expansions. He seems to be consolidating their territory against the Alliance’s crumbling borders. However many of my lesser-runners have started to refuse certain routes that may lead them towards Order space.” He took a sip of his drink. “I must admit the shoot on sight policy does make them a somewhat larger concern.”
He would have to think like the game, play his cards right to get the result necessary. Bandaak knew that even if the Order were breathing down on that world he wanted his stock back, he however had no true idea of what hand he had to play with, after all that was Veergo’s expertise. “Eitherway, is there any chance of getting that stock back into our hands?”
“Unless you know of someone crazy enough to go against the gangs, the law and potentially the First Order? No.” However the Twi’lekk did tilt his head as a thought came to his mind. “Actually, I do have something that could work.”
“Well?”
“Remember that kid we hired to run weapons?” Bandaak seemed confused. “The big mouth.”
“Ah yeah, the Corellian Rat. What of him?” Even the crime lord was getting in on the drink now, the potential loss of a million credits clearly frustrating his nerves.
“Got picked up on Korbin, we were gonna cut ties because of it. Why not get him to get our ship?” A shrug was added to the suggestion.
“Trust a million with a street scum?” Bandaak wasn’t convinced.
“Why not, either he dies and we lose what is already lost or he delivers the stock and we kill him anyway. No real chance to lose anything more then we already have.”
Bandaak paused to consider, his lip twitching. “It can be arranged? You can get him to the ship?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. Korbin has always been kind to me.” Veergo smirked.
“What was the kids name again anyway?…” Bandaak muttered towards the Twi’lekk who gave him a small smile.

“ S I T R A ”

 

[Armand Temi]

Jungles of Korbin
Allies: [member="Ara Zambrano"]
Objective 3: Extreme War Games // Take Down Colonel Larusse // Impress the more experienced Ren
Post: 4

Varas welcomed the hot, mosquito-ridden jungle after spending time training on Hoth and battling the Galactic Alliance on Dagobah. She’d wrapped up in armor and cloth like a black taped mummy to ward the bugs away, though her cybernetic hand fared well, a benefit of being ten-percent mechanical she supposed.

Some of her colleagues - Ren and FOSB alike - drew the lucky straws to end up at a Kyrf plantation on the other side of the planet. But she rationalized that pretending to be a debutante sipping kyrf was less her style than the hunt that was underway.

She’d hastily grabbed an electrostaff and a vibrodagger, but the two-handed weapon felt too heavy. She clumsily gave it a few practice swings, and while other participants in the war games advanced towards each other, Varas scrambled to find a nice hiding place and then planned to stalk her opponents one by one.

And then it seemed like the Knight was alone for some time, so much that she crouched at a fresh water spring to drink from her hand like a neanderthal. The hair on her neck prickled as she felt another Force aura nearby, and then heard the sultry voice directly inside her head, but it was too late.

With the grace of a vornskr, Ara Zambrano dropped upon Varas, causing her staff to fly out of her hands. Instinctively as the dark brunette hovered over her, she grabbed the vibrodagger at her hip, but instead felt the sinister poke of the fellow Ren’s blade under her ribcage. She inhaled sharply recalling Colonel Larusse’s instructions that the participants could cause bodily harm and that surgeons were standing by in case injuries sustained were too severe to continue.

Wearing her own mask, Ara could not see the sneer upon her chapped lips, but she might be able to feel the angry darkside energy pulsing through the girl who’d been easily bested. Of course her encounters with this specific Master of Ren were met with a mixture of anticipation, awe and the deep competitiveness that Sieger Ren demanded of his servants.

“...trust your instincts, not your eyes.”

A blush crept across her cheeks as she soaked herself momentarily in the failure as though being baptized. “Yes, Master,” she replied giving the more experienced woman the honorific she deserved.

Was she allowed to strike back now or would that be playing too dirty? Colonel Larusse said they were allowed to fight in any kind of manner - even hand to hand combat was encouraged. Calling the electrostaff to her hands, she thrust the weapon out, attempting to throw off the superior Ren. While Varas was clearly still on the path to Master and not quite there yet, her father had been punishing in his training and her enhanced Force agility was strong. "My instincts want you off of me... now," she hissed.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Enemies: [member="Ara Zambrano"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"]
Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"]
Objective III

[Two targets, seventy away.] Twigg barked into his mic. [No conventional armour. They uh, seem to be busy with each other.] Interesting. Very interesting. Perhaps these had been the special forces, Rexus had heard so much about. The masked mercenaries. Those armed with sabers and the force. The Ren. And what would it be, if it were for them to surrender to Death Troopers. For them to learn their place from those who bore the brunt of their campaigns and zealousness. Rexus could think only of the prestige, as he crept through the shadows. He clung to the low hanging foliage, and slipped through the ferns, while Twigg, using his helms advanced sensors, scanned a perimeter.

[Alright, I'll see about us getting some POWs.] Wenck huskily breathed into his mic. This exercise, was just the type of thing, the broken man loved. It seemed very reminiscent of Asharad Graush's own punishing methods. It was madness, but of the right kind. Just the right degree of craziness. The type of madness, which broke men. Turned the weak into strong. Herded the sheep into wolves. Sharpening the blades of Supreme Leader Ren. Of the First Order. Wenck kept creeping, until he was just behind a bush. Setting his rifle to stun, the special forces soldier leapt out of the undergrowth, with the bravado of a Mirial rancor insertion.

"Hands up." Wenck barked, watching the two as they were entwined. He found the embrace curious. Did he walk into something he wasn't meant to? Were they trying to get it on? But these wavering questions. Wayward thoughts of what was, and what had been departed his mind. Steely resolve replaced it. "Stand up, both of you." The trooper grunted, emerging from the shadow of the tree. His armour glistened with dew, "Drop your weapons, and I'll get your pretty little arses back to the base camp."

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

“Sitra?..” The guard looked down at the data pad he was holding tightly in his hands. “Ain’t what it says here. We prefer real names in these parts.” It was enough to course his audiences lip to curl and fingers to click as they were clenched together. “So I’ll ask again. State your name for the record.”
Opposite him sat a young, yet slightly rough looking human. A bluish bruise was covering his right eye and a nasty purple tinged cut had formed beneath his lip, yet still despite it all Alasdair Sitra seemed in high spirits. “Alasdair Sitra.” He responded again, leaving arrogant pauses between his words, hoping that maybe it would enter the thick aliens head.
The Alien tutted and put the data pad down on the beaten metal table they were currently using as an inbetween point of contact. “You know you could make this a whole lot easier on yourself kid.” He circled the table and grabbed Alasdair by his scruffy and unkept hair, pulling his face back hard. “I don’t think you realise who you’re dealing with.”
“The ugliest mother fracker I’ve ever met?” Even with his head held in a vice and the hot breath of the alien on his face the spacer managed a laugh. “I’m sorry to tell you, my sister already beat you to that one.”
A closed fist ended his laugh, spraying fresh blood onto the table as another cut was sliced down his cheek by the knuckles of the guard. Groaning Alasdair pulled his hands to feel his cheek as the guard let go and moved back around to his chair, sitting down with a grunt. “I’ve dealt with many comedians in my time kid. You’re not the first and you wont be the last, I tend to find they are never laughing by the time they leave. Now, state your real name for the record.”
Alasdair felt his face breaking into a small smile, or maybe he had lost control of his muscles, he wasn’t sure. “Okay, you win.” Leaning forward he looked at the alien’s beady green eyes dead on. “Alasdair…” He never got the next word out as the guard leapt the table and hit him across the face again, this time with his elbow which knocked the Corellian and his chair to the floor. It took another guard from outside the room to get the punching to stop, and Alasdair could feel the slick warmth of blood covering his face. They were talking, quietly enough that he couldn’t understand them in whatever language they were speaking.
“Seems you’re in luck Sitra.” He felt the cold metal that bound his hands click and fall away. “Someone things you’re important enough to get out.”

--- --- ---

There was nothing sweeter then the first real meal outside of the slosh served in most backwater prison cells. Fortunately for Alasdair his saviour, or saviours as it had turned out to be were generous enough to not only pay for him to get out of the hellhole he had been locked in but also assure he was well fed and medically treated afterwards.
“So…” His mouth full of some oddly sweet, yet savoury pastry the words were muddled yet understandable. “All I need to do is a job and I’m good to walk yeah?”
Across the table, also eating yet not as wildly as Alasdair was, were the two who had paid for this whole thing. The first, Jan Tabolt, an elderly dark-skinned human with greying hair and a slight Thyrisian accent and his seeming partner in crime Kel Greior, a young female Zabrak who eyes gave away greater experience then her slim build impressed upon Alasdair.
It was Jan who had done most of the talking so far, and his was Jan who would jump into the questions suddenly flowing from Alasdair’s mouth. “One job and we all get to walk free. More then just you’re life on the line here boy.” Turns out they had all been busted out of seperate settlements in order to be united and follow the vague instructions of some peddler from the core. The prize was credits and freedom, a combination that had seemingly made an impact on all three of them. “So if we can make sure we do it with as little complications as possible I would be most appreciative.”
“Better to die out here then in that cell.” Kel added, her eyebrows raising as she went back to her soup.
“No one is going to die.” Jan muttered. “Simple premise. There is a ship in compound, old freighter that is apparently full of something that someone wants. It writes itself really, we get the ship and we haul ass until we reach the destination, then we get paid and walk away.” His eyes fell onto Alasdair who had abandoned the pastry and moved onto a large bowl of noodle-like broth with the spoon moving to his mouth like a blur. “Understand…we walk away.”
“Get the ship, deliver it and walk away. Understood old man.” A false salute was given in mock, “Although, do we know what is in this cargo? What is so important that they pay for three prisoners to get bailed out?”
“I don’t know kid.” Jan took a swig of his large ale. “I don’t want to know.”
“The less I know the better.” Kel added.
“Fine.” Alasdair scowled into his his bowl, before shoving it aside and moved to a large plate of bread that had been in the middle of the table. “The less we know the better.”
“Exactly.” Added Jan, “Now I don’t know about you but I’m really eyeing up those Nerf Slabs.”

 

[BE-183]

Post: 2
Location: Kyrf plantation
Objective: Gain intel from within
Status: Blending in
Ally: [member="Ilya Cardonne"]
Enemy: [member="Cim Salro"]​

Soldier senses tingling. Danger. What was the first rule!?

Right. Don't panic. Bee rested an elbow on the seat and glanced back, all cool-like. Vong's blood, was that woman there the whole time? "Oh, likewise Miss Rosehill," she blagged trying to remember her civvy etiquette. "Uh... call me Beetriss. I'm gonna need to ask you to bear with me, Olivia."

An imposing fellow with dark eyes climbed into the front passenger seat. He wore the same uniform and hat, but didn't seem quite as enthusiastic. "And this here's Zed. Say hi, Zed." Zed growled out a hello. "Close enough." Without further ado Bee drove them to the plantation.

Zed's fist clenched and unclenched by his side. "Don't mind him, he's a bit simple." It wasn't hard for her to fetch a genuine smile when she was trying not to laugh. She and Zed had served together before. "We had to take over for Jamon and co." There was a long pause as the checkpoint guard narrowed his eyes.

He suddenly groaned. "Don't tell me J's been caught skimming off the top again. Stupid phrikkin' addict."

She nodded dourly, "I told him to kick it."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Uh oh. The guard squinted through the back window. "... Now hot damn, who's this?"

"Tourist, some kinda high roller. How could I say no?" Bee smirked, arching a brow.

"Ha, don't blame ya. Alright, cargo's in order, you're already running late, go in." They drove on through, Bee sweating rail slugs.

"Addict, huh," Zed purred in that gravelly baritone of his. He hung an arm out the window, taking in the sights. Fields of kyrf stretched on for acres, painted strokes of green and gold in the sunlight, dotted with exhausted labourers and patrolled by pissed off overseers. Maybe this was how the Supreme Leader felt. Feels good. "In there."

They parked up in a line of other trucks and disembarked. Bee offered 'Olivia' a hand out of the truck. "Care for an escort, Miss? Wherever you want to go."

 

[Cim Salro]

Post 4, Obj: Kyrffin Around
Location: Kryf Plantation, Festivities Area
Enemies: [member="The Major"] [member="BE-183"] [member="Donnal Jethid"]
[member="Ilya Cardonne"] [member="Kailari Selanno"] [member="Gurn Borman"]


Her gaze unblinking she watched one of the guests approach her, a sophisticatedly dressed human who introduced himself as a Mr. Tsidone Edwi. The name didn’t ring a bell so she must have forgotten the meeting, but before she closed the gap between them, she whispered to Modeste: “Check my calendar for the businessman.”

With a smile and cutthroat glint in her eyes, Cim said, “My deepest apologies, Mr. Edwi. It’s a humid day, there’s lots of kyrf flowing, and perhaps there was a scheduling conflict which my assistant is looking into. Would you like to go somewhere private?” The Anzati turned her head to a small seating area ringed by potted plants and covered by the shade of a giant, lace umbrella. The bodyguards did not move but only watched and surveyed.

“And how are you finding the latest vintage? Korbinians complain about the heat, but it really does help with the intoxicating flavor of the fruit and the end product. Or were you in the market for something else besides kyrf?”

In the basement of the plantation great house were barrels, boxes, and freezers full of the various spice variants found across the galaxy.

 

[Gurn Borman]

Post 2
Obj: 1, Distract
Allies: All FOSB and FO personal. The Major Cim Salro

Tiberius took note of how the crime lord asked her servant to search for the meeting on the calendar, she was disorganized. Anything disorganized is always easier to topple. He wasn't surprised though, she never struck him as a good criminal. If the Order didn't ruin her she would ruin herself soon enough, but that was time the FOSB didn't have to waste. So they would speed the process of her downfall. He smiled and assured the woman all was right after she apologized for missing the meeting, she then asked if he would like to speak somewhere private. "Ah yes, that would be ideal. A splendid get together this is, the wine is quite exquisite I'll say." He glanced around at the other guests to see many faces, plastered with either fake smiles or intoxicated ones.

He continued to speak as the two walked towards the seating area she had mentioned. "Yes and as for the business. I came in search of a trade regarding the kyrf, you see I supply to some of the largest buyers in the galaxy, and if we could set up a system in which you provide the kyrf and my company sells it. Well, I think we would have an incredible deal on our hands." He smiled and leaned in closer to her and whispered "And don't forget I'm fully aware of your other exports, I think I would be interested in discussing more, off the books, sales if you would be open to it." He of course was referring to the spice hidden under thier feet. The Order was well aware of her more, illegal ventures.

 

[The Major]

Post 3, Obj: Kyrffin Around​

Status: Approaching the Tipping Point​

Allies: FOSB Elements​

Enemies: [member="Cim Salro"]​

Within the FOSB typically a plan was designed to be followed, especially if a Deputy Director was on hand to supervise the clockwork in function. So when [member="Gurn Borman"] decided to approach the target, Cim Salro, before the rest of the infiltration unit was present and accounted for in their predetermined positions, she had to do quite a lot not to visibly wince. Before this op, Mr. Borman was an unknown: another of the rank and file moving up quickly in the light of so many losses in the department after that debacle on Dagobah. Now, like a guided missile, the Deputy Director of Operation's had her attention zeroed into the Special Agent. And to further compound the sheer nerve of the lot of it, he dared to look to catch her gaze.

She could only hope that, for his sake, the mission was not compromised.

Current save him, for being shot to pieces by pirates would be the least of his concerns if the Major got her white gloved hands upon him.

For now, making any sudden motion or indicator of acknowledgement could risk his life, and so she continued to mingle with her group. If his gamble worked, then he might even be able to place the target in a position that was much easier to subdue.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Objective III
Allies: Classified
Enemies: Classified

From his position in the canopy, Alkor observed the proceedings between two non-Stormtrooper elements and a contingent of the uncharacteristically black armored forces. The crosshairs of his rifle were trained on center mass of the closest individual to the two women, and he fingered the trigger thoughtfully. This strange altercation was described to him by his benefactors as "a breach of protocol," and those involved were either enlisted to participate, or to expose the rogue officer who had orchastrated the ordeal to begin with.

The two Force Adepts, as they appeared with their lightsabers and lack of armor, seemed at the mercy of the Death Troopers. Alkor knew better- but the humor in pumping one of the specialists full of midgrade tranquilizers far outweighed the pragmatism of allowing the women to handle him themselves. Besides, two on two seemed far more fair.

Keira would have been proud.

Alkor squeezed the trigger swiftly and sent the armor piercing projectile, complete with a dissolving coating and filled with the rapidly working sleep agent barrelling toward the back of the unsuspecting [member="Rexus Wenck"]

"Night night," he muttered as he prepared to vacate his position, since his shot should have given it away.

 

[Samka Derith]

Objective 2: Survive
[member="Vek Calridge"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Ember Farseer"] | [member="Felix"]

"Good morning," Samka chirped at the stirring pilot. The young woman smiled down pleasantly yet something about the wide eyed girl was deeply off. Crimson eyes bore down on the man, twinkling with the faint trace of madness and cruelty. "Pleasant dreams? I doubt it from the way you've been writhing," she said in a hauntingly sing-song voice before answering his questions. "Welcome to the beaches of Shasfath, it would be beautiful were we not lost without supply nor any sign of civilisation. I am Decitus Ren and I have taken command of our crew of survivors," she announced, not just to the pilot but her voice clearly carrying as a message to any within earshot.

A woman ran over, led by the Stormtrooper from earlier. She had a medical emblem on the sleeve of her jacket. She knelt beside the pilot and began to spray his wound with a pain numbing substance, Samka tossed the medic a curious glance, she'd obviously decided the man merited their limited resources, but other than that she returned her gaze to the open crevice.

A slight prickle of Dark energy trickled down her spine. Kyrel Ren. She was still too weak, too exhausted, to pin point him exactly and far too weak to let him find her. "You couldn't have circled with the shuttles first?" She muttered to herself quietly.

However, her attention was caught away immediately after.

A loud roar echoed from the crevice.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Objective Three: Survive and Shut-down the War Games.
Location: War Games Site - Jungle.
Allies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"]
Enemies: Unknown Ren Opponent.
Equipment: FO-XD Armour, G-12A Blaster Rifle, Blackwing Electro-Sword, Stun Baton.

​

The Ren stood immobile. All he could see under her hood was a malicious smile. His HUD showed Rexus and Twigg heading deeper into the jungle, and he wished them luck. Kyli was nearby, hidden in the scrub. His breathing steadied out, more confident now that he had back up.

He shifted his position in the mud, getting better footing. The Ren didn't move. Luther paused, before disabling his scrambler. "We don't have to do this". He said. "These games are a joke-" he pivoted, barely avoiding the glowing blade. His reflexes kicked in as he swept up his sword to batter the lightsaber away. His left hand, holding the stun baton, swung out but the Ren danced away before it could make contact.

His opponent showed no such hesitation the second time, leaping forward, her saber aimed at his chest. He parried with his sword, grunting as the vibrations travelled up the blade. Luther knew these types, she'd spent so much time under a harsh master, the force user needed someone to unleash her rage on. She would chop him into little pieces, it would be called an accident and the Ren would be let off with a warning.

He focused on dodging the swing of her blade, thankful for the surgery that improved his reflexes. He parried when he had to, and a spider-web of cracks spread along the sword. All attempts at counter attacks eventually stopped as Luther focused on the defensive. His only advantage was Kyli, who he was sure was watching the duel through her sniper scope. He just needed to keep the Ren still so Kyli could make the shot.

He surprised the Ren by charging. He dropped his stun baton, grabbing the blade in two hands. He swung with all his might towards the Ren. She raised her blade, just in time to catch the sword. The force of the blow was too much for Luther's sword, and it exploded into large fragments. He stumbled back, clutching at his helmet as pain seared through his face. A large shard had shot into his visor, only to get stuck partway through. The pain from the shard stung from where it cut into his temple. He fumbled at his helmet straps and removed the headwear, deepening the gash as it was pulled off.

He approached the Ren, who looked incapacitated. He reached down to pick up the stun baton, straightening to find a lightsaber held in front of his chest. A piece of shrapnel stuck out of her shoulder, but otherwise the Ren looked unharmed. Luther raised his hands slowly. "I surrend-" he stopped himself midsentence. The fight had pushed her hood back, and a fierce freckled face stared back at him. "...Jane?" he whispered. The Ren's eyes widened, and the point of the lightsaber quivered. "L-Luther?" she responded.

A blast echoed through the air and Jane collapsed. The shot from Kyli's rifle passed perfectly through her right ankle, pulverizing the joint. The Ren screamed, pushing her agony out into the force. Her screams invaded Luther's mind, now unprotected without the helmet. He shuddered, his body wracked with pain. He took a shuffling step, then another, raising his right arm. He brought the stun baton down across Jane's temple. The combined force of the blow and the electric shock knocked her out immediately and severed the connection. Luther collapsed onto his knees, clutching at his head.

 

[Kier Grey]

Staff Sergeant Kyli DT-6767
Objective: Three (End the War-Game, Subdue the Colonel, Neutralise murderous personnel)
Post: #2
Allies: [member="Luther Ando"], [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Equipment:

• Blackwing Electro-Sword
• FastTurn-3 Hydrospannerhttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/FastTurn-3_Hydrospanner
• FO-XD Prototype Death Trooper Armour
• G-6E Light Repeating Blaster
• Plasma Torch
• Stuncuffs
• Type-51 Special Application Rifle/Advanced
  

Silent she watches the blade explode spectacularly; Catastrophic failure of the Turadium parts no doubt. Even from this distance she can discern the injuries to Ando's face. "What are you doing Andy!?" Kyli growls angrily furious that he would raise his hands in surrender her fury matched equally by the fact this Ren stood poised to end his life finding her usual Zen disturbed by an all too familiar anger that stemmed from the depth of her heavily-altered brain aggression pumped through her veins and she'd make this shot's path land somewhere it will cause excruciating pain; the ankle joint. Kyli's Index finger gently eases the trigger back against receiver the sound that follows was simply deafening, as if a whip had just cracked at the edge of ear even with the helmet's sonic dampeners taking the edge off to avoid damage to its' nerves but it did little to dull the instant audible shock it reverberated through the woods rebounding off the tall trees. Crimson lance hurtles across the distance at several thousand meters a second, so fast that anybody not looking at it's direction at the time of discharge without the sound would not have known the weapon to be fired at all. Kyli watches with a slightly sadistic satisfaction as the Ren goes down albeit she does not show it outwardly through her face, rather in the way she shifts excitedly after the shot but there are none who witness it.

The scream from Disciple bellows followed closely behind by Luther's collapse and Kyli leaps up with a predatory speed and breaks into an adrenaline fuelled sprint with a determination and aggression snarling loudly while crossing the Seven-Hundred meter grass blanketed distance while hauling more than forty-kilograms of armour and equipment, arriving over the Ren's body with railgun's barrel aimed at the woman's concealed brain stem in fourty-two seconds flat; an astonishing bout of speed in the eyes of an unaugmented Human achievable only because of her enhancements and part of the reason she suspected the Colonel had composed this little 'test' to assess if the Death Troopers were everything special forces command had boasted, if nothing else the claims were watered down. "Andy, Status!" Kyli demands from the man who had shortly keeled over just prior to her arrival, she wanted to know he was okay especially with that veneer of ripe burgundy blood washed over his face. Watching the Disciple with a steely gaze behind the helmet's visage, it tactfully conceals its' master's visible anger, her limbs gently shivering with anger struggling to contain the animal pounding its' clawed hands on the edges of cell walls barely containing it's homicidal desire. Kyli's left-hand angles somewhat bringing the concealed vibroblade above knuckles forward and slams her boot down on the unconscious Disciple's remaining ankle to pin them down, prepared to lash forward like a viper and open the woman's throat if necessary.

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Objective 3: Kyrffin Around
Post: 2
Allies: [member="The Major"] | [member="Gurn Borman"] | [member="BE-183"] |
Enemies: [member="Cim Salro"]

Ilya nodded her acknowledgement, flinching slightly and blinking as a bright flash of lightning forked across the sky, accompanied by a clap of thunder that faded, leaving only blue sky, and chirping birds. No sign of any storm. "Smooth moves back there, Beetris. As for the escort, I need you and the team to head inside and find the produce. Once we have that secured we can start making arrests. Command has made it clear we aren't to fire unless fired upon. No civilian casualties."

Porcelain cracks ran up her thighs, widening and threatening to split her apart. Ilya ignored them. "I'll take the front entrance, and mingle. Since you have the uniform see if you can help take the cargo to the storage area. With some luck they'll take you right to the stash. Oh- and our priority target is one 'Cim Salro.' The Bureau believes she's heading this little operation. Any questions?"

She fell silent as the speeder pulled up to the building. Ilya piped up, the quality of her voice becoming high pitched and nasal. "Gee mister, thanks for the ride. It would've been a long walk without you!" Then, this time in a low voice, "I'll be in contact. Let me know if anything goes wrong."

Walking around the front of the house, she feigned confusion, looking lost until a suited man walked over resignedly to assist her.

"Can I help you miss?"

"Hi there sir, I'm Olivia. I'm on the guest list."

"Of course, may I see your identification?"

"Certainly, here it is." She fished a forged identity card from her purse. It was flawless work, some of the Security Bureau's best.

"Right this way Ms Rosehill"

Ilya followed the man inside, watching the skin melt and slide down his face, before receding back to normal. "You're a saint." Murmured Ilya, leaving him by the door. She was inside, standing amongst the oblivious sponsors and prospective buyers. With a small click, only audible to her, Ilya's communicator connected privately to that of a high ranking operative nearby, instantly initiating a secure connection with the mission's leader.

<: "Deputy Director. The team will be in position shortly." :>

 

[Cim Salro]

Post 5, Obj: Kyrffin Around
Location: Kryf Plantation, Seating Area
Enemies: [member="The Major"] [member="BE-183"] [member="Donnal Jethid"]
[member="Ilya Cardonne"] [member="Kailari Selanno"] [member="Gurn Borman"]

Two chairs were pulled up for the pair of merchants and under the shade of the umbrella, they could relax and talk business as they gazed upon the gathering as well as a bubbling fountain. “Feel free to take a case or two along with you - on the house.”

As Cim sat down, spine straight, she crossed her legs, not relaxing quite yet. Her eyes glanced back at Modeste, who was now caught in a conversation with another patron. When the Lethan Twi’lek finally checked her calendar she could see that Mr. Edwi was not on Cim’s calendar. The ruddy-hued alien shook her head and shrugged her shoulders continuing on with whoever she’d attempted to charm.

The brunette Anzati wracked her brain for how she knew Mr. Edwi and a prickle of wariness caressed the back of her neck when she realized she could not recall any meeting they’d had previously.

“More kyrf over here please!” Getting him drunk would be the first step to neutralizing any anxiety on her part, and these humans could rarely resist the sweet allure of the heady beverage. Glasses were hastily served, but again Cim did not drink.

The whisper from Mr. Edwi tickled her ear and got the juices flowing for other types of delicacies far from kyrf and the spice that was jam-packed in her basement. “Why yes I would be. Tell me a little bit about your business operations and I will see how I can help you. Preferably in detail.”

She did not need to use any hypnosis on him. Not yet at least.

 

[Zef Halo]

Slowly, but surely, the creeping feeling of the dark side grew stronger with every passing moment. The source of it was neither the one called Decitus Ren, nor a passage sense of danger coming from his back. The source seemed to stem from the newly opened massive crevice in the jungle floor. A dreadful roar echoed from the gaping crack rustling feathers of fleeing in fear birds and shuffling the leaves of the thick jungle canopy.

The ground shook as two massive hands of stone and rock pulled a behemoth of the earth. Fazed by its size and its composition, of which from his hiding place Ember could only see its head and upper torso, the Jedi Knight had almost completely forgotten about the Knight of Ren and the troopers. The massive golem reeked of the Dark Side.

It eased his roar looking around itself but its target was clear. The monstrosity was summoned by the extensive channeling of the Dark Side, or so Ember assumed. An arm of stone raised itself and descended upon the makeshift camp of the First Order survivors. Its speed was not envious giving enough time for the quick to escape direct impact but the force of which it landed turned the surface beneath its clenched fist into a crater. Shockwave followed tearing the frailer of the flora to fly off and subsequently disassembling Ember's hiding spot along with sending him crashing into a tree. The instinctive Force barrier prevented his spine from breaking but the pain remained.

Landing on his back side, the Jedi grinded his teeth in agony while the golem went ahead for his next assault.


[member="Samka Derith"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Felix"] [member="Vek Calridge"]

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

“I think it suits me.” Alasdair said confidently as he ran his hand through his hair and adjusted the brown flight jacket that was the newest addition to his attire. Catching his reflection in a polished metal sign that was hanging from the framing of a nearby shopfront.
“Is that why you stole it?” The Zabrak’s tone was clearly of dislike, mirroring the dagger eyes she shot in Alasdair’s direction as he tugged at the jacket front and looked down at himself.
“I didn’t steal it.” Curling his lip Alasdair shot it back and gave Kel a hurt expression. “The guy owed me one, so I borrowed it.”
“Borrowed it without any intention of actually giving it back?” Kel rolled her eyes as they continued down through the market street where Jan was leading them. “Sounds an awful lot like stealing to me.”
Alasdair shrugged. “Well you clearly have never been to Scillal.” Kel didn’t hear him, so under his breath the comment was. Alasdair took it as a small victory at least and took one final moment to admire himself in what was officially the most bad-ass jacket he’d ever owned before moving through the crowd to catch up with the others.

“I understand that you have the permits, but I’m under strict orders to not allow anybody aboard that ship.” Alasdair knew this plan wouldn’t work, yet as Jan had been apparently told it was the way to do it, they had all gone along with the stupid thing anyway. The officer at the impound gates has let them through easily enough, the permits, which Alasdair assumed were fake, had got them only so far. The actual release officer however was so far a harder nut to crack.
“They state here and here that the ship is to be released to me and my colleagues so we can transport it to analysis.” Jan was doing a good job of seeming frustrated, which was surely channeling his actual feelings. “So do me a favour, just let us take the ship. Please.” The document which hadn’t left Jan’s hand yet was planted firmly on the window display.
“We’ve been told nobody gets it, permits or no…” The release officer went quiet as he found himself faced with the business end of a blaster that was raised towards him, Jan’s hand unwavering as it lined up to the officer’s head. “…However I’ve just seen that those orders have been renounced, so I while I can’t tell you that the ship is in bay fourteen, I can say that the access code for such a release will be transmitted shortly to the ships navigational computer.”
“Thank you for your assistance.” The blaster was lowered and Jan put the paperwork back in the pocket of his vest. “It was much appreciated.”
The blue rings travelled faster then any of them knew, Jan releasing the stun shot into the officer and allowing him to slump down in the office itself. “Better safe then sorry. Now come on, before someone finds him.”

 

[Gurn Borman]

Post 3
Obj: 1
Allies: FOSB, [member="The Major"]
Enemies: @Cim Sarlo


Tiberius smirked as everything fell into place for him. The crime lord had sat down with him in a small seating area still within the watchful eye of his superior, [member="The Major"] .Now the two were isolated enough that she couldn't receive help from her fellow criminals but close enough that they were within sight of the other agents. Now the man had to struggle to describe a made up company, it didn't matter though. By the time she figured anything out it would be all over. "Ah yes the company, I am an investor and s trader for Graonx shipping. It's a recent upstart I doubt you've heard of such a company. However we take risks with our shipping, risks worth taking for our buyers. We would be very interested in the kyrf here on Korbin. If you accept we would be buying the kyrf directly from you and shipping to our buyers with you receiving a sum of the profit."

As Tiberius sat with the woman he rapidly thought to himself I cant keep this up much longer, if I can just get some type of signal I could drop the two guards and have her at gunpoint in seconds. I just need a signal. He felt his custom blaster, The Hewletts Revenge, strapped to his hip. The time was coming.

 

[Cim Salro]

Post 6, Obj: Kyrffin Around
Location: Kryf Plantation, Seating Area
Enemies: [member="The Major"] [member="BE-183"] [member="Donnal Jethid"]
[member="Ilya Cardonne"] [member="Kailari Selanno"] [member="Gurn Borman"]

Modeste threw Cim another wary glance.

Oh please, the Sultana said back telepathically to her loyal assistant. I’m fine here in the company of this handsome gentleman. What’s the worst that can happen? The guests find out I’m an Anzati? If my reputation precedes itself they already know.

She smoothed out her dress and looked to Mr. Borman with bedroom eyes - the embryonic beginnings of the subtle hypnosis that was a trait native to the Anzat race.

Cim, Cim, Cim, she thought. You are so insatiable. Maybe Modeste is right.

Her snake-charming halted for a moment while she listened to what the businessman had to say. “Yes, yes Graonx shipping. This all sounds copacetic.” Cim leaned in closer and began to implant suggestions directly into his mind, using her Anzati mind tricks.

Just relax Mr. Borman. You seem a little tense. If you prefer we can go to the basement of the Great House and sample the spice. A little bump would be nice now wouldn’t it?

Humans were so easy to lure, she mused licking her lips. Bribery, the toss of her long hair, a snort of glitterstim. Honestly it was like robbing a jawa.