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She had butchered it entirely if the other blonde’s reaction was anything to go by. Kaili’s brows perked and her head tilted in greeting as their bottle clinked against the other woman’s glass. The skies had treated Kaili well. It didn’t take much more than a second for the young girl to realize what it meant. Her eyes blinked for a second at the revelation that she was talking to a fellow Warden, at least potentially. Kaili wasn’t exactly going to outright ask, the first rule of Warden Club — as Mara had told it — was to not talk about it. The fewer people knew they existed and the more people spent thinking of them as urban legends the more weight they had to throw around. Now that part was more of Kaili’s observation than anything Mara had taught her. The Merrill might have been a font of knowledge, but this blonde was more than capable of drawing her own conclusions and wisdoms out of situations she had observed.
And if Kaili had blinked at finding a warden, imagine her surprise at finding out she was apparently on the lookout for adventure as well. The other blonde was without a doubt the person that Kaili was sent to meet, but the girl was far from certain what that meant. She had gotten the destination, not the purpose and this other blonde warden seemed to hook straight into the bartender’s offer. Underground personnel probably, but Kaili as it were was not one who was very familiar with The Underground beyond those individuals she had met through Mara. This was not one of them.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” The Talith nodded in uncertainty. “Show the way.”
It was out the door, take a left and walk halfway down the corridor.
Best way to get around on Bespin?
What?
Kaili decided to go with the flow. She was out of her element already.
Boarding Pod Exterior, Gallidran-class Station FIS Kuragin Outer Rim
These days, Deacon was much less the social type.
It was ironic, from a certain perspective, given what the Hapan did for a living. But after his time on the ground during the Battle for Atrisia and the long months of war with the First Order that followed the flashpoint at Kaeshana, it was getting harder and harder to look at those around him as anything other than assets and potential assets. It was easier that, than picturing them as casualties waiting to happen, as they now so often were. Worn down by attrition, this time instead of his usual position in the thick of the conversation, he had spent the trip in the rear of the Calrissian-class Freighter, with the squad of the Irregulars assigned to him. Without the connections afforded to him by the Strategic Intelligence Service, the Alliance commandos wore simpler ghost suits, and carried stealth carbines in addition to their sidearms.
The time was fast approaching, the agent could somehow feel it despite having no frame of reference for anything going on outside the hull of the Orbalisk boarding shuttle they were now all packed into like Quarren. His pulse began to quicken, as he ran through a final equipment check, and recalled his mission parameters. Obviously the Kuragin was a potential intelligence coup, if even a fraction of its datacore could be recovered intact. Ignorant as he was to the ongoing First Order protocols to purge just such sensitive information, once on board he would have to make every effort to reach their computer core if possible. But that was a secondary aim.
His primary purpose, as it so often was, was to be one hell of a distraction.
Only moderately surprised that the Mirialan freighter pilot had gotten them close enough intact and undetected for so long, Deacon was nonetheless grateful to finally have his fate once more in his own hands, more or less, as he guided the boarding pod as much as it possibly could be towards the outer hull of the station and the Peregrine field disruptors engaged.
"Remember!" he shouted to be heard over the roar, "Pick your targets! Clear enemy combatants only! If civilians try to rush you, stun em! You have your orders!"
"For Skor," one of the men muttered under his breath, yet despite the uproar it carried. The others echoed the words as a sort of rallying cry.
"For Skor," Deacon agreed, "And the honored dead. Lets go misbehave a little."
Location: Attaching to space station, digging in like a tick Vessel: Orbalisk drop ship Objective: Save civilians from terrorist labels on Anoat Station Allies: [member="Taheera Sollo"], [member="Micah Talith"], [member="Deacon"], Galactic Alliance Enemies: First Order, unknown ([member="Magnus Ren"]) Equipment: Amphistaff, standard hold out blaster. Ghost suit. Force Breaker Grenades. Utility Belt.
Carl Tieger was a man of worth, his mother had always said so. But it was in times like these that he wondered if that sort of sentiment was true. Hell, it was the ma’s responsibility to make a young man feel admirable and unique and something special. But as he scratched his overgrown beard, staring down the FIS Kuragin, he wondered if that was truly the case.
Afterall, what kind of man leaves his wife and children at home so that he can go gallivanting about in the deep of space? Doesn’t matter that his business relied entirely on charitable work. Just this past month, he barely scraped by even while serving the outer regions with much needed supplies of uber rations. That was what the company called it but all he knew is the things tasted like rocks and felt like ‘em too.
It was desperation that sent him on this course. He would have been happy serving as taxi driver between ports on his home planet, working a hardy 9-5 before going home to see his wife and three daughters. Doctor said that bit was unlucky but he couldn’t have been happier with his girls. But then his ma’ got sick, some sort of wasting disease. And all of a sudden, being a taxi service driver wasn’t enough. Loans were a tough bit of the process but with some elbow grease and a good deal of effort, he had a crew and a small operation. When surplus was high, he was able to feed his family, pay the mortgage, pay for his ma’s healthcare. At first, his closest friends confessed that more nefarious means of procurement would have worked out better. Piracy, theft, burglary, roaming the deep space with a gun and ill intentions. But if he was the man his mother claimed him to be, he couldn’t go down that road. Not even to save her life.
He hadn’t realized the mistake he made when he answered open communications. He hadn’t realized that interspaced between all these civilian freighters and shuttles, there might be the good people of the Alliance, attempting to overthrow the First Order by attacking the space station. Hell, he was here to just pick up some fuel and get some rest and relaxation for his crew. Just the past week, they had traveled from supplier to Skor II after one hellacious incident between customs. He wasn’t a political man but he knew best to keep his head down when nations tangled. Staying neutral always felt right.
The first stray bolt smacked against the exterior hull of the ship, like a hot knife through butter. Carl didn’t know he needed to put up shields, he thought this was some sort of pit stop for the wayfaring stranger. Like a spilled basket of eggs, those rations poured out from the ship as space rushed in to fill the void. In the emergency response, the door to the cockpit airsealed, just in time for Carl to turn and watch as his crew scrambled through the viewing window. But the pressure was too much. Some of them knocking about, some of them getting sucked out immediately. The engine was hit not 15 seconds after that, sending a hell fire through the gaping wound as it burned up what oxygen was left. The fire crawled into the air vents and circulatory system like a spawn of bogan, aiming for the last vestige of safety within the ship.
Carls breath, labored, could be heard over the communications. It was the open channel because that’s where people talked. His thoughts drifted to Tinna. To Amelia and Rose and Ester. To his mom, lying in hospice as she waits for the news or lack of it.
:: This is CIV Steadfast. We’ve been hit. We’ve been hit! Oh God, tell Tinna I love~~~~ ::
The comms went quiet, just for the passing moment, as the ship exploded and sent debris through ejected trash.
~~~
"You can't sense my emotions? Do you need to? If you wanted to know how I felt...why not ask? " He was genuinely confused by the concept, as he had never know the true touch of the force. Prior to his arrival on Selvaris, he had known of the force and may have come into contact with force users. But nothing so direct as sitting and nudging against a Jedi Knight of the Alliance. This issue was further vexed by the fact that he was entirely removed from his own emotions, driving a vehicle in which he lacked understanding and the desire to learn. Emotions were the alien thing that crept up in the pit of his stomach, once thought removed by shapers.
He was just finishing the bit about the Force Breaker Grenades when he felt a jolt run through the vessel, metal shearing against metal. Lights filled the opposite end of the dropship and within moments, the atmosphere of the ship became one with the station. A breath of coolness crossed the breach between dropship and station, leaving Maalik rendered with shock at the transition. He had never been part of a boarding party like this. This was not the Legion's way.
Looking down to his hand, he saw the vice grip that extended from the Mirialan and suddenly realized he couldn't feel his fingers. And that was when she released it as the forces moved forward to the sound of feet trampling metal and sealing gasket. Like a platoon of men marching into a sea of potential violence, they ushered forward in a flood. They were told that they were hitting engineering, the largest portion of any ship and statistically the most likely place to push in. Or so he was told, he wasn't actually sure where he was. He was told a lot of things in the moments between Varonat and now but only a few things actually stuck.
Racing forward, he pulled the cowl over his head and assumed the nearly hidden presence that would incur from the ghostsuit. Grabbing that same hand that nearly strangled the blood from his own, he pulled Harla back from the front of the movement and looked for a spot to find a moment to think. There was a lot of machinery where they entered and he was finding himself a bit flustered, as if the station was breathing around him - suffocating him.
"I have to admit...loud machines make me nervous..." It was a confession, entirely removed from the fact that his emotions weren't the sort to affect his actions. Even in the face of deadliest fear, he was prone to act with only calculation of success - not hindered by any value of life.
Hanging Valley
[member="Tsuki Aihara"] | [member="Aeron Kreelan"]
Isar had no response for Aeron aside from a roll of the eyes as he pulled the mirrored goggles over them. Funny thing, Isar had been completely focused on the task at hand since they embarked on their journey. Mean Girls over there was the one living in the past. So - Aeron could keep her warnings and expectations. There was one simple fact, they knew each other not at all. The difference was that Isar afforded the woman the professional courtesy of presuming she knew what she was doing. They hailed from startlingly similar backgrounds. The fact that he was a Zeison Sha same as her should have been more than sufficient.
As the group progressed, Isar listened quietly to the language he could not understand. Fortunately, Aeron was good enough to provide a translation as she tossed a device in his and Tsuki's direction. Isar did not immediately reach out to grab the device, utilizing his extensive training and experience with telekinesis to slow and divert it towards his ear. In one fluid, casual motion, Isar reached up to affix the device to firmly to his ear, dexterity reduced slightly by the gloves on his hands.
Slowing his pace, Isar allowed himself to drift a few meters farther from the group. He keyed the communicator out to Captain Vyrgg. "Captain Vyrgg. The Prex requests a situation report on Echo Base. We're presently skids down at our objective rally point."
As he waited for a response, Isar allowed his obscured gaze to drift in the direction of those that had arrived to speak with Aeron.
Allies: First Order
Enemies: [member="Micah Talith"] | [member="Taheera Sollo"] | [member="Keric Dynt"] | [member="Atham'aali'kema"]
[member="Micah Talith"]
-- -- --
*A shadow.* That is what he had been. Following the Knight of Ren as he'd made his way through the corridors and into the support center, thoughts coursed through the Zabrak's mind. Something was afoot. Of course he'd also heard some of the chatter, seen the viewscreens in the command center - the Alliance assault was underway, their appearance swift. It had been effective, at least in part, according to the data splayed there. The situation was dire, and he could feel the energy, the adrenaline, coursing through his veins. His tightened grip on his staff was evident as they stood - Magnus quickly grabbing the situation and guiding it, bending the very will of those around him as they began to follow his instructions - truthfully it wouldn't have taken much if any effort at all, they too could see the rapidly bearing Alliance fleet which had begun descending towards Hoth, initial scan data from the Indellian gateway... They had come in force.
Aralu watched carefully, everything the Knight did stored away in his memory for later. It was his position as a Disciple, to learn, observe, watch - and when required, participate. His eyes had been drawn first to the screens, then to the lift - Magnus had already begun taking long strides towards it. Matching his pace, the Zabrak strode after him. So much was going on, it was hard to get a grasp on it all. He had been trained a weapons expert, better with the finer details of warfare and individual combat than those of a commander, a tactician, or even an overseer. He wasn't sure he trusted the ability of those in the command center, but Magnus had made it clear what would happen should they fail - and so he would believe in the elder Ren's judgement.
The Disciple waited for a moment - then speaking once the doors had shut and the lift had begun its movement.
"I think things just got more serious my Lord - it appears, according to the reports, that several security crews have reported contacts on the hull of the station."
Handing the Knight a datapad he'd swiped from the command center, all current reports were accessible. The one at the top had caught his eye, indicating several loud contacts on the hull followed by an increase in temperature in several of the chambers. Environmental readouts displayed the relative change. Not only that but visual displays had picked up odd shapes on the hull of the FIV Kuragin. It almost looked like... a ship? Strange, but Aralu would wait for the Knight's input before drawing any conclusions.
As it turned out, there was a tank on the battlefield. So the mercenary warlord was not delusional. Her Grand Theft Tank operation was not a figment of her imagination. Unfortunately...she ended up stealing an Alliance one.
Presumably it was an accident. For the record, this one has the permission of Aver's writer to write things this way. So when Aver's tank roared towards Siobhan Kerrigan and came to a halt, the latter was not a happy camper. Especially when she realised the crew was deader than doornails. Friendly fire was not friendly.
"You just...shot up our own people? Are you frakking nuts?! Point your guns at the enemy, or I'll shoot you myself," she growled in a furious tone. How would the Alliance Code of Military Justice handle this? That was a mystery this post could not solve.
Regardless, they had a larger battle to fight against the imperialists. So reluctantly Siobhan climbed aboard the tank and embarked. Her space marines had already hopped aboard. Much to her annoyance, she had to admit that the plan of the mercenary with the questionable sanity was a good one.
"Fine. Let's snow them in. Long as you know who we're burying." If it worked, it would be fun. "Give those bastards hell - and make sure you don't get blown off the bloody tank," she called to the power armoured Firemane marine. Thusly the behemoth of steel advanced across the snowlands towards the slope besides Echo Base, whilst Alliance and First Order armour traded heavy blows across the battlefield. On the way towards their destination, they beheld a stormtrooper (Torian Pierce) on a parapet.
Alas, the deafening cannonade made it impossible for her to hear the words he was hurling their way. However, his exposed position made him a good target, along with any mooks that might be there, too. Her fingers danced over the controls as she directed the tank's laser cannon to aim towards his position, and she fired.
Location: En Route to the Hanging Valley Allies: GA, [member="Aeron Kreelan"], [member="Isar Kislo"] Enemies: FO Gear: VT-Jedi Vanguard Armor, vibroblade
The small group filed out of the stealth vessel as it touched down, the much larger Talz lumbering along beside the smaller Padawan. While the furry, lumbering, walking anteaters with bug eyes were of course comfortable in the frigid temperatures of Hoth, the human girl was not. Even within the multiple layers of protection from her suit of armor, it wasn't exactly built with thermal regulators. Shivering as the Omega Prex tossed the older man an encrypted comm unit, the Pafawan resigned herself to the fact that she'd know little of what was going on in battle, besides what was right before her eyes. 'Whatever...'
Happy to be inside the cavern where it was at least a little bit warmer, the Padawan looked around her at the very strange looking species around her. The Talz were beyond weird, and the Ortolans looked exactly like elephants dyed blue. While the Talz looked like they were useful warrior, blue waddling things didn't seek like much. More liable to be punted through the air by an unusually large Sith rather than much use on the battlefield. Tsuki just prayed she was wrong.
"Whoa, we got a shot! Just like nabbin' those hushpuppies from the pan back home." The teen couldn't help the whoop as she brought the dauntless-class x-wing sharply up to veer back and circle around the descending b-wings. Fingers toggled between firing the ion canons and laser canons as she continued to fly cover, toward the emplacements and enemy trenches, below. Warning lights flashed across her sensors.
Even with their shots, ground fire was getting heavy and her shields were taking some hits.
Hazels swept across the HUD, looking to see if the b-wings had just as much impact on the First Order base, below. Mind turned to the new force master she was still getting used to having.
Gettin' crowded up here. Turning to make another run at their emplacements.
She had a bad feeling somewhere between her toes and the pit of her stomach but she didn't voice it to Korr. And she couldn't help her thoughts drifting briefly to [member="Adder"] and the rest of her squadron. The teen hoped she'd see them again. All of them. They all knew there weren't any guarantees flying in a death machine.
The snowtrooper variant armour was just as difficult to put on oneself as it was to adjust to fit the exact specifications of a person’s body. Although this was the first time she’d be donning the armour personally, having spent most of the tour inside, inventorying the armory and annexes of Outpost Veers, Des had plenty of practice dressing targets who were particularly good at making the task harder than it should be. Leg armour, torso, and gauntlets settled into place before her comm unit beeped, a familiar voice echoing over the unit, but not the one she expected.
::Um…Staff Sergeant DesMaris.::
Twisting her right gauntlet until it snapped into place, she waited for Trynn to continue. When he didn’t, silence hanging in the air as the ground beneath her feet shook and baster fire erupted from far away, the battle outside now in full swing within a matter of moments, she raised her voice.
”Get on with it, Specialist. We don’t have all karking night.”
::Sergeant Pierce um…he…well, he said….::
A growl rolled form her throat as she grabbed an over jacket and shrugged it on, belting the fabric into place.
”Specialist! Spit it out, now!”
::He refused orders to see you, sir. Something about abandoning his po-::
Cutting off the connection before he could finish, Des rapidly dialed up a second channel, this one encrypted and coded to a helmet assigned to the Sergeant of Squad Pierce.
”When this is over I’m putting you on Carbon Scoring duty for insubordination Sergeant. When I tell you to report to me immediately, it is not a request, Pierce.”
Pausing in her tirade long enough to slide the chest plate over her head and settle it on her shoulders appropriately, pauldrons snapped into place with a smooth flick of the wrists and practice.
”As to abandoning your post, one of your duties and subsequently mine is to ensure that your squad is well equipped and prepared for battle. When the Alliance comes knocking at our karking door without warning, I expect you, and your men to report direc-“
The crunching sound of Duraplast breaking, followed by the hissing crackle of the connection breaking off mid statement.
”Pierce? Pierce?!”
Fingers flashed madly over the screen of the personal unit, desperately trying to reestablish a connection with the Sergeant. When a third attempt failed, she slammed a fist against the table, a slurry of curses and empty threats flowing from her lips. The sound of her name drew her from her daydreams of setting the whole of Squad Pierce to reactor core cleaning, Des turning to inspect the rather tall figure in front of her.
“I require eight PLX launchers and associated ammunition, authorise with operating number TK-6850, the 13th must deploy immediately so do not delay. Ammunition and supplies will also be needed on the front line, be ready should that task fall to you or should the Outpost be breached”
His number as well as the crimson Captain’s pauldron resting on his shoulder had her stifling the retort that immediately crossed her lips. A simple nod and ”Yes, sir.” preceded a cross to the weapon’s cage, a quickly typed code and biometric scan to access the required weaponry accomplished within moments. Retrieving the PLX-1 Missile Launchers and bandoliers equipped with four projectiles each.
”Current supplies only allow four per unit, with more as requested with the base under eminent threat.”
As she distributed the launchers to each trooper in attendance, Captain Draken if she remembered correctly, continued speaking, this time in terms of ensuring the working condition of his cybernetic right leg. Casting a curious and knowledgeable eye at the leg in question, copper eyes inspecting each exposed gear and rivet, searching for obvious signs of misuse or wear. Satisfied that all outward mechanics were functioning properly, she moved closer, raising an eyebrow in question, asking for permission to perform a cursory check. With a nod given, she ran her hands over each plate and bolt, checking for loose connections and scrapped edges. Pushing against the back of the knee to test the bend, she nodded once and stood again.
”I would be happy to assist, Captain. All looks as well as can be expected given the conditions of the planet and the natural degradation of the equipment, it should hold up well enough. If it doesn’t, I’ll be there to assist.”
Turning to another cabinet filled with backpacks, she grabbed a specially equipped pack for mobile repair purposes, and shouldered it while the captain addressed one among his squad, assumedly his second.
”At your command, Captain.”
Indicating she would follow their unit into the trenches, personally inspecting the status of supplies and equipment on the field, Shaydae settled a helmet on her head, eyes adjusting to the flash of lights and sound as the HUD display rapidly attuned itself to the encrypted channels the First Order at the outpost were using. As the sounds of battle and barked orders filtered into her ears as the seal between the thermal suit and helmet met and secured, she moved towards the still open case and secured herself a missile launcher.
”All units in range, this is Staff Sergeant DesMaris at Outpost Veers. Supply Lines being run as we speak; all equipment requests are to go through myself or my second. Exact locations and unit numbers are required; Class IV Weapons and armaments require the clearance of Lieutenant status or above. Out.”
A messenger bag filled with Disruptor Pistols sat on the table, grabbed swiftly on her way out along with her personal weapons. Following Captain Draken into the depths of the Base and towards the trenches, the sound of metal against metal, the creak of duraplast, blaster fire, and crackled orders music to her ears.
He looked over to Kaida and then back to the Padawan. "Or just...you know...hit them over the head. You don't have to stab them. Not immediately, any way. " It was partly joke and partly serious, as the taking of life was no laughing matter. Despite not being a Jedi Master, he held to that tenant pretty strongly except in the most extreme cases. Carnifex immediately came to mind.
He looked over his shoulder to [member="Loske Matson"] and smiled. "My feelings are telling me that this is my drop off point. Never been called Marshallness...I hope it sticks." He gave the scout drone a kick and it whirled to life, hovering at eye level before taking a steady approach next to Gabe. He held out a hand for the Padawan to follow and pulled the phantasm hood over his head.
"Ours is more subtle mission. And there is nothing subtle about the Calrissian Plaza. People will be evacuated from that location first and given the amount of civilians, that is not where our efforts can best be harnessed. Beyond tourism, there is no resource there that we need. So we turn to the processes that propagate beneath surface of the city. What changed my mind is simply gut instinct...in time you will learn to trust in your instincts as well."
Stepping off the ramp, he fell some feet before the silent jetpack of the ghostsuit kicked on, offering him a soft landing. With his feet touching the scaffolding, the phantasm cloak activated and he disappeared from view altogether. With his capacity with Jal Shey, his presence floated into the ethereal until it was one with the force altogether. In almost every fashion, he was gone. Except for the drone that lingered overhead.
Beneath the cloak, he clicked on the datapad and sent a message to a particular individual over strongly encrypted channels.
I am relaying you coordinates. With someone of your particular skill set, you should be more than capable of making an impact. Who knows, we might even run into each other. Just like the aquaducts.
///End Message //End Encryption
With the message sent, he also forward dated schematics of Cloud City with a particular coordinate spread. But based off their flight path and what he had seen, not much had changed in the passing centuries. With such a location, it was hard to hide general utility information on the Holonet.
Reaching out from his cloak, he smacked the nose of the drone with his knuckle. "Get going. " With that, it took off and Gabe headed forward while checking his equipment and brandishing the stealth blaster beneath the cloak. Satisfied with the load, he holstered it. That wasn't for the ughnaughts that would be prowling down here. He suspected that they might be victims of circumstance and he was hoping the scout drone would help prove it. Far off in the distance and out of sight, the Hilikan Plant waited for the team as they moved forward. Hidden by sensor jamming technology, their approach and arrival would be hidden. And in the shadows, they would proceed.
"Oh good. I hate negotiations. They're so boring. Besides, no one ever remembers what parlay is, anyway."
"Parsley?" the captain asked.
"No, Parlay. To negotiate with someone. Parlaying terms. Criminy, and people think I'm the uncivilized one."
Bugger enough that the main defensive force of the world seemed to be occupied with taking shuttles from the planet. It meant he couldn't blow up that ship. Well, he could, but he wouldn't because he was a pirate, not a murderer. Pirates don't kill people, they just steal their stuff. Ok, that's partially untrue. Pirates do kill people when they deserve to be killed, or if they're enemy pirates. In this case it was the former. The lousy First Order bastards had murdered all of his friends, and now they needed to pay for it. The only problem was, their civilians didn't need to pay for it. On the plus side, at least a new friend had come out to play with them. Albeit a rather pompous one thinking that his puny ship was enough to annihilate their forces.
"Orders, sir?"
Raze turned his eye to the captain and stared at him for a moment.
"I suppose you should inform the Commodore that we're turning to face the new guy. And then I suppose you should load some long range disruptor missiles while we make the turn. And of course get a firing solution on that enemy destroyer so when we're turned we can actually fire."
"Yes... sir."
The captain looked at him funny, but Raze just lifted his eyebrow at him and shooed him off to do as he was told. Seriously, these standard naval types were starting to be a bother to him. Maybe when all was said and done he'd have to go out and find some real crew. Crew that like to fight and do uncouth things on their ships while facing down foes. Yeah, he'd be the real Pirate Admiral then. Of course he'd have to find them a base to store their plunder, relax, drink, and enjoy other such debauchery. He scratched his chin at that thought, wondering what planets around them could be utilized for such. He'd have to do some investigating to figure that one out, but perhaps not until he'd sunk the First Order's battleship! Figuratively speaking, of course, since it's space and all that.
No, first he needed to make this space urchin kiss the proverbial hiney! And it seemed he wasn't the only one that thought as much.
"Keep the shields steady to that side, fighters prepare for engagement. In a moment we crush some First Order swine!"
Location: FIS Kuragin | Anoat
Allies: GA [member="Micah Talith"] [member="Vexen"] [member="Spark Finn"] [member="Atham'aali'kema"] [member="Deacon"]
Enemies: FO [member="Magnus Ren"] [member="Aralu Sar"]
Equipment: SI-HD Armor,Multi-Weapon Elite Model tool, a pair of blasters with extra energy cells, Vital Communication Security Monitor First Order Issued (Loot from incapacitated Trooper)
March here, march there, march everywhere. There seemed to be organized chaos as the storm troopers were flooding the area. Allyson kept up and she did her best to listen to what was being said. She was on the inside and had to get things set up. The larger unit she was in began to pair off. She saluted one of the higher ups and pointed to her rank. “Fine.” The higher ranked trooper paired off with her and they marched down a hallway. It was a sweep like activity. She let the man go ahead of her while she thought of a way to take him out and swipe whatever clearance he would have. They moved down the halls and back up, the activity was getting boring, so she had to think faster.
Seeing one of the hallways having a t-like ending, she pointed down one of the ends and the man headed that way. They were out of sight now and Allyson took her opportunity. She removed the glove of her armor and reached out to the back of his helmet. Most of the things were wired with some sort of simplistic power, for hud usage and the like. Having a bit of an affinity towards Mechu Deru, Allyson took her chance and short circuited his helmet. Quick shock, nothing terrible but a nap. Allyson caught his body and laid him down. She began to quickly work stripping the panels of the uniform in search for anything. A smirk spread across her face as she had padded against something hard. Clearly this was some sort of device, so it would come in handy. The small comm device from what she could make out from it was attached by a small magnetic strip.
“Well this is a good find…” At least now she would be able to hear possibly the traffic that was going on about the station, possibly even get some more information on the station itself. She pulled the device from the man’s shirt and continued to pad him down. There had to be something that gave him access to places, but it seemed he didn’t have such things. Cursing she stood and looked at the device, her hand rested on it for a moment, though her time was going to be cut short. Remembering she was hovering over a body, she needed to get out of there. Allyson ran down the hallway and attempted to lose anyone that had possibly followed her, she needed just a moment to read into the system and use the Force to hack her way into the comm device.
3rd Imperial Infantry 1st Battalion, Spade Company- (72% Strength- Will downgrade as we go.) Objective: Hold the Line for Reinforcements to arrive. Enemies: [member="Aver Brand"], [member="Tomas Yarrow"], GA, Firemane, [member="Naomi Carolina"], [member="Sol Stazi"] , [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member=Xel], Allies: [member="Chron Terix"], @TK-4261 Strain, [member="Shaydae Desmaris"], [member="Fiver"], [member="Null"], [member="Selene Sinclaire"], [member="Torian Pierce"], FO OOC: I know I missed one of you. HMU. I'll add your tag. Tried to include most of ya in my post. Read carefully.
Fighters were diving, dropping massive bombs on their position. Between the flak cannons exploding, shells booming and the massive shock wave of the shadowbomb dropping TK found himself face first in the lip of the trench. Blood had spattered crimson flecks across the inside of his faceplate and the old helmet was fast filling with smoke.
"Ricks!"
"Here Sir!"
"Well I'll be damned! What the hell?"
"Incoming, Armor units incoming!"
"Hold the line!" TK roared, scooping up a fallen PLX launcher. Ricks was right behind him. so far none of the 3rd had opened up, saving their rounds for the exact targeting distance, or perhaps they were just stunned by the blitzkriegs into their lines. Several of them lay dead or dying, others blasted apart. Strain saw limbs and fingers and brains all over the place.
"Load me up brother!"
He raised the muzzle of the PLX launcher and centred the target lock high in the sky. The fighters were the biggest threat, and so far the flak cannons had yet to hit them. TK squeezed the trigger, tracking a particular fighter that unbeknownst to him housed one [member="Naomi Carolina"].
The round streaked off and Ricks was quick to slam another one into the tube then duck down, pulling another pack of rockets close to them with a quick underhand scoop. TK rained another rocket into the fighter formations and then his commlink crackled across the TACNET.
"3rd now our time boys! All emplacements, bring the heavy rain! Vanguard prepare to counter charge!"
The Alliance had over comitted in their assault. With everything thrown at the line they'd made a fatal mistake, and Torians Troops and AT-AT bunkers had absorbed the most of the blood letting. Their primary DZ was open fro grabs, which would conceivably cut off any reinforcements and supply lines.
TK intended to own that ground.
"NOW!" He roared, as Ricks slammed a fresh rocket into his tube and he let it corkscrew into the enemy tank formations approaching. Dozen and dozens or white hot contrails spiraled and cut through the air as a massive barrage of missiles flew from their lines into the enemy. The E-webs opened up full force, joining the remaining AT-AT bunkers fire. A sizzling cascade of death hit the killzone like a wall.
"This TK-4261 3rd Imperial Infantry. Staff Sergeant Desmaris, we need any extra supplies and troops you can bring down to the trenchline. Sergeant Torian we need that cover fire of your to continue. 3rd will charge in two mikes!"
"Cap'n, Torians Position is under siege!"
"Frak!"
TK whipped up his macrobinocs and zoomed in.
"Cross fields of fire to keep those tanks off his position. Belay my last 3rd Charge! Charge now damnit!"
His ears ranged and his head vibrated, hurting his brain even more as the clone had an awful migraine on his mind. The soldier began to roll over to the other side of his bed, hoping there wasn't some other broad estranged on the floor below him.
Luckily, there wasn't.
Canal tried to get up from the bed, but failed and found himself falling from the mattress and slamming down on top of the wooden floor with his back.
Another groan came out of his mouth as pain ran through his body. While that did bother him, something else disturbed him more. His natural senses told him that he wasn't wearing any undergarments or any type of clothing below his waist.
She didn't even hear him respind, when the general quarters alarm went off she immediately ran for the fighters bay as she got to her fighter and started prechecks the rest of sabre getting in and checking everything as she sat back and took a breath in
*static* sabre squadron stand by thrusters hot....ok sabre squadron we have our orders, we are to provide escort to the shuttles evaccing civies and protect the command shuttle of captain aran it is imperative that his shuttle is a priority if under attack....alright lights green sabre squadron launch
She pushed the thrusters of her fighter to the max as it shot out following here was 15 others all of them were either regular ties or tie interceptors all ready to defend their home....and gives their lived
"Not at all," said Audrey. She and [member="Ranulph Tarkin"], together with his men, rendezvoused at the central turbolift that took them up to the central exhibition hall; this one carried the museum's most prestigious collection: an assemblage of artifacts from the time of the Galactic Civil War. Audrey took the moment to put some distance between herself and her blithering before about her late husband Reg, seizing the opportunity to discuss what she knew best: history.
"Cloud City was a home to a pivotal moment in the Civil War, if the legends are to be believed. Apparently, Leia Organa herself -- along with Han Solo and his crew -- were captured here by Lord Vader, in an attempt to lure Luke Skywalker to his doom. Although it's impossible to tell now which of the items we're about to see are authentic and which are replicas or examples, what we do know is that all these items date back to that time period; nothing in here was made less than eight hundred years ago." She smiled to herself, her hands clasping together excitedly, and she gave a little gasp as the doors swept open.
Junior curators were working to move the exhibits as carefully as they could. A section was dedicated to clothing -- there was a pretty burgundy jumpsuit and skirt, an embroidered-lace garment of some variety, a flamboyant cape in shades of blue silk, and a few Cloud City police uniforms. They were remarkably similar to the way the uniforms looked now. In the next display, there were old fashioned stormtrooper armor suits, weapons (E-11 blaster rifles, Cloud City police blaster pistols, and a DL-44, purported to be the one used by Han Solo himself.
Audrey explained the exhibits as they passed them, til they came to the center of the exhibit hall, which was the crown jewel. It featured a replica of Darth Vader, wielding a lightsaber and swinging it towards Luke Skywalker, whose hand was being struck off, held in an elaborately lifelike artificial hand.
"Pretty sure those are replicas, but they're ancient and expensive, so we need to get them loaded up before those beasts arrive." Audrey took a pair of museum gloves and worked them over her hands and immediately went to the nearest case, featuring the clothing exhibit. "This looks good -- no degradation," she said, gesturing to the burgundy jumpsuit and skirt case. Dr. Saint George shifted the case a little; it moved easily. "I think -- Lieutenant Tarkin! Can you and your men lift this? I think it might be better to just move the cases if we can. Who knows what might happen if we break the seals on the cases in an unsealed environment? I know -- it's not what you signed up for -- but... " She waved her hands helplessly. "I don't know what choice we have at this point."
Enemies:The Galactic Alliance | [member="Ghorua the Shark"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"]
Objective:N/A
Between the engaged efforts of the Bespin Wing Guard and the First Order Troops that had arrived within the Plaza to further secure the area and support the evacuation of the Civilians, things were falling swiftly into motion. As far as he could tell the Galactic Alliance hadn't yet arrived in the form of an invasion force though the air about them felt tense, the Force calling to him in warning, keeping his senses honed upon their surroundings while [member="Samka Derith"] and the Doctor, [member="Irajah Ven"] decided upon their immediate actions with [member="Ara Ren"]. Turning at the doctors request for a blaster, Brennan drew his own and stepped forward to offer the P-23 Sidearm Pistol to her. If any of them were going to sacrifice arms, it was his duty to be the first to volunteer as their subordinate among the Ren; "Safety is engaged, once disengaged it will be set to kill" he informed her before turning back to look out from the landing zone that they were standing upon, the precipice of freedom from this conflict and she wished to remain to support the First Order. It was admirable, even for one not as fit for such aggressive situations.
Turning his attention back down to the SB-U01 he sought an update from FOSB, logging his credentials into the data-wide net of the First Order's communications and glancing over a rather dense display of intel briefing the current situation across their sector. "Hoth and Anoat Station have come under attack. Bespin is being engaged as we speak...-Though I know not what's keeping them..." for a moment Brennan may have sounded disappointed, something out of the ordinary as he rarely showed emotion at all least it be in the fury of combating the enemy. His eyes peered back out across the plaza from their elevated position, looking across the masses, those still trying to avoid being taken up in the expected war. The Plaza was vast and wide open, access points north, west and east of their position left much to be desired in the way of defenses; thus he soon activated his comlink and without the approval of those above him, he chose to show the initiative in delegating two of the First Order's Defender platoons. "This is Brennan Cabrol, priority order four-five-two mark nine. Fortify points of entry west and east of the plaza, I want eyes on when the Alliance drops. Contact command and designate a single Squadron of TIE's to support EVAC of all non-military personnel", the order he gave would immediately be logged across their frequency, FOSB securing all data for debriefing following however their day would end, Brennan's every command given would later be raised in question to him as was fit for those among the Ren, disciples with no true authority, yet obeyed for fear of insubordination and the consequences coming from his superiors. Labeling his command a priority order, the code he had given them was his registered tag across all militant channels of the First Order, to which every member of the Order of Ren had one, so that others would recognize their position in the hierarchy of governance across worlds in their space.
Turning to glance back to the group he was with, he offered a single nod and otherwise fell silent. Samka had all the right to intervene with his command, to negate it as was her authority over his, yet as things stood, even as a Disciple he wasn't going to act as if his hand needed holding every time they left the Bastion, he was there to prove himself worthy of the First Order, there to support them in anyway deemed fit; He respected the Supreme Leader to much to allow his presence to be an unnecessary one. At this point, he just wanted the war to break out into their zone, that this waiting cease and all the doubts and questions around himself be drowned out by the cries of war and the desperate need to kill all that sought to remove them from Cloud City.
Eyes the pallor of drawn steel hardened at the sight below: smoldering wreckage, and an avalanche of snow.
Korr glanced at his data screed. Screen?
The indicator read five shadow bombs left. More than enough for this sortie.
The wave of anguish in the Force from the B-wing run struck him hard. Deaths. Not one-by-one, or in pairs, but all at once. It nearly stole his breath away, but it was not the first time. Nor likely to be the last. He clenched his teeth. Muscles writhed along his jaw. Many of the dead were probably just normal beings, following the orders of their officers.
They probably knew nothing of the faults of their leaders: of the devastation at Eriadu; the prisoners burnt to death at Karfeddion; the Squibs massacred by chemicals weapons on Skor; or any number of the vile deeds wrought by Kaine Zambrano - whom the First Order seemed to harbor without reservation. Ryan had read those after action reports carefully. He had never been comfortable fighting the First Order. The Sith were the greater threat. But the great weight of evidence proved an insurmountable testimony to what would happen should this Order be left to their own devices.
And so Korr would fight them. And he would kill them if he must. The Force offered no serenity here to soothe away his own doubts. Nothing ever would put his mind entirely at ease. He would be afraid if it did. It should always be horrible to take a life, even when necessary. But history told them all what happened when tyranny were allowed to persist unmolested. Many would die today to save others a lifetime of oppression.
Smoothing away his own self-doubt, Ryan Korr reached out to his apprentice. He could feel her anxiousness. There was something in the Force. He couldn't put a finger on it.
"Understood."
She was doing well. Clearly she was born to be in the cockpit. He let the warmth of his approval show just barely through their budding bond in the Force.
Tilting his nose back toward the ground, he went in for another run.
The air around them filled with a torrent of flak bursts and laser fire. Angry colors filled against the white-blue sky of Hoth, like frenetic spattering from a painter's brush. Ryan guided his craft right through the middle, feeling his way with the Force, flying by instinct. Danger whispered and screamed all around him. He made for those gaps of silence, the dwelling of serenity.
There was no more time to guilt himself about the deaths to follow. Nothing more to do than pull the trigger and concentrate on survival. Not his own, but his padawan's. He was right on her six.
His fighter whipped down, prepared to drop a pair of shadow bombs, when he felt something in the Force. Ryan jammed on the joystick, yawing right and squeezing the trigger in a breathless second.
A PLX missile that had been streaking straight for Naomi's x-wing exploded. The stealth X shrieked through the resulting fireball, black shape haloed in red-orange flame.
Kyrel resisted the urge to choke Shaw as he walked in and listened to the Supreme Leader's words. It sounded as if it was music to his ears, and he ignored Shaw's words and listened in on his wise and powerful leader as he spoke. He spoke of an attack made by the Alliance on all sides. The Ison Corridor, Bespin, Hoth. The whole of the Anoat sector was under siege. As he bowed before the Supreme Leader, he remembered Skor II. He remembered the blunders that happened during that battle, and Kyrel would have his retribution for such mistakes come to this fight. He would drive the enemy back, and he would make them fear him, and with an appearance of an old Imperial Hero nonetheless. His eagerness was palpable through the force as all he had wanted to do was get out, and head out to the battlefield, but he had carried the highest respect for the Supreme Leader and so therefore waited.
When the Supreme Leader was finished, Kyrel rose up and said his tone filled with a certain determination, and eagerness usually expressed when he was about to go into battle. "As you wish my master. By your will, the enemy will fall." With that, he gave Shaw a nod and walked away leaving his fellow Knights there to do their duty while he had his. He would sense a great disturbance in the force as he could feel the conflict not happening too far from where he and Shaw were. Kyrel was eager, and so needed to get to the battle. His internal comlink gave him reports of all types of chatter coming from troops, and so he deduced that the conflict was happening at Outpost Veers. He walked to their land speeder and told Shaw in his metallic tone. "Come, Shaw, we have no time to waste, we must get to Outpost Veers at once." With that, he hopped into the speeder, and was off through the frozen wasteland, and off to Battle.
Objective: Link up with allies and launch a counter attack.
Kyrel zoomed with his speeder through the snowy wastelands as he tried to make his way to his allies. He could sense the conflict more and more, the closer he had gotten the more eager he was. He knew that he had to get there quickly, and so focused on the force to sense the death and the destruction using it as a guide to what he was seeking. The comm chatter of the battle was what he had heard, and after going through several miles of the wilderness and after an hour of going at a high speed, he had finally reached the place he was looking for.
He had gotten out, and looked to Shaw and said as he stepped forward slowly. "We are here, prepare for battle." He said as he walked ahead onto the battlefield, he noticed heavy bombardments. He noticed wreckage everywhere, and bodies were strewn about. Kyrel walked down a slope and onto the field below. He saw part of a mountain vaporized, and could have sworn that he had seen ashes with pieces of Snowtrooper equipment laying back. He narrowly avoided a couple of strafing runs as he made his way across the field and walked through the trenches to avoid enemy fire. He was appalled by the devastation as this attack came as a complete surprise, and so he vowed that he would defend the Outpost with all that he had, even if it costs him his life. He had even noticed a couple of the AT-AT's were down, and that was most upsetting.
He walked through the trenches seeing troops constantly speaking each other through comms, He saw many of them trying to either reload their blasters or patch up their wounds, such things both saddened Kyrel and yet angered him. He had hated this war, and now since the loathsome alliance invaded First Order space. It was time to strike back, to defend their home, and so on this day they won't lose they would strike back the warmongers from once they came, and they would emerge victorious.
Kyrel after walking through the trenches avoiding enemy strikes he found two stormtroopers chattering. "We need to regroup with the Seargent, and try to counter against that heavy armor." One of them said. The other was reloading his weapon saying frantically. "No we can't there is too much armor, and even if we could how would we regroup we are getting hammered." Kyrel stepped in overhearing them, as he said coldly and with a sense of urgency. "Where is your commanding officer?" He asked and one of them answered attentively "Sir our commanding Officer, the Seargent is all the way over there at the front line. But that is where most of the enemy is located and is slowly encroaching upon our position." Kyrel nodded as he started to walk in that direction. He spoke to them not looking back. "Defend this position and hold the line, I will see the Seargent personally."
He walked through the trenches, his lightsaber in hand, he deflected any blaster bolts, as he directed his way through the trenches, he had finally heard a trooper screaming out with some choice of words, and Kyrel knew that he had found who he was looking for. He kept tracking through the trenches as he sensed a familiar force presence. He recognized it from Kaeshana almost a year ago. He then saw the enemy armor, and tanks and saw enemy blasts and decided to stay back waiting to go after the enemy, as he would come in with the reinforcements and launch the counter attack.
Objective: Crashing to Hoth like a glitter bomb...
Allies: GA Officially [member="John Shepherd"] | [member="Nawago"] | [member="Joza Perl"] | [member="Leo Vandermolen"] | [member="Sanya Val Swift"] (Others with GA characters)
Enemies: All who would harm Wampa!
Theme X
Thing in the upper atmosphere over Hoth were really heating up. Hoth control probably overloaded with the attack had still not responded. The White hat jerked and shuttered as it darted between fighter and capital ship alike trying to find a way planet side. Something had to be done because if they stayed up here much longer they were gonna get shot up for sure.
"OK feth it, doesn't look like we will be getting clearance but in this I doubt anyone is. Pilot prepare landing sequence and take us down."
They had come to far to turn back, either that or they were too damn stubborn to admit it. Either way the decision was made. They were going for it...
"Everyone, strap in. Poodoo just got a lot more complicated and we need to get this bird on the ground. I have ordered the..."
BOOOOOOMMMM! The ship began to pitch and yah violently as both man, woman, and wampa alike were thrown about the ships bridge and main cabin. Bryce smacked face first onto the floor as he was tossed about the tasting blood from his cut lip he struggled back to his feet and yelled to the pilot.
"What the Feth was that, were we hit?!!"
"No sir, engine number two just flamed out, trying to restart it!"
Bryce stumbled over to the port window to look out at the engine hoping to see something what he could do to help. What he ended up seeing instead was nothing short of ... shiney... The entire engine and wing seemed to be covered in pink sparkles, not like the one Joza used... oh no...
