The Bellow of the Beast | First Order Dominion of Belgaroth Hex

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Objective: Get ready for interrogation
Allies: [member="Mishel Zanteres"] [member="Arlen Rossi"]
Post: 4

​

“I am not good at mind manipulation either,” noted Zmej and turned her head towards the captive, “Did you hear that? We’ll have to find alternate means of making you talk.”

Fortunately for her lightsaber, the garage was filled with various instruments and tools. Every amateur interrogator's dream.

“Do your worst.” The Devaronian voiced his defiance, which fell on deaf ears.

“Your kind is always stubborn, but I assure you, everyone talks in the end.” The agent declared and her eyes inquisitively studied the man’s reaction.

“Go kark yourself.” He scoffed in response, mentally steeling himself for what was to come.

“Have you ever heard of the FOSB?”

The Ren did not rush. Before doing anything else, she massaged her left shoulder, realizing the incoming strain would otherwise prove too distracting. Perhaps a dose of symoxin was in order, but she tried to hold off the dark craving for the pain-numbing drug. As her fingers gently caressed the war injury, Zmej’s attention snapped back to Mishel.

“Abraxo. Devaronian. Mechanic. Ties to the Ka zor cartel.”

Taking her right glove off, the blonde Ren let her bare fingers trail over the variety of repair tools proudly displayed on shelves and wall. She walked with deliberate slowness, keeping the prisoner waiting as she allowed his defences to wane. Picking up a hydrospanner and feeling its weight here, claiming a wrench and doing the same there, it became apparent the young agent of Sieger Ren desired to pick the right instrument for the job. Abraxo knew it too – his gaze never left the blonde’s form. Instead of choosing a tool though, the Ren’s empty hands pulled out a datapad from under her uniform. Several mysterious taps on the screen followed – pinging the FOSB to arrive. The possibility of Abraxo possessing valuable information prevented Zmej from going too far on this one. The First Order needed him alive for now.

Finally, her pale hand slipped back into the leather glove and seized a hydrospanner.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii Classic
Allies: First Order [member="Zmej Ren"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel

Now firmly back into fifth place, with the top-four within earshot, Dunames is about to be fired at once again; for some reason the Cartel does not seem to like her much. Maybe the bookmakers and other cartel personnel actually have begun suspecting that Dunames is just a cover for the Ren or FOSB agents on the planet, hunting the Ka Zor Cartel down. Maybe firing an anti-tank missile of the variety found in First Order heavy weapons infantry was not the best idea: it basically forced Dunames to boost, but with the pod #4 not boosting, said pod was more vulnerable, as it was attempting to force Dunames onto the cliff, to no avail. Meanwhile, that FO media crew couldn't be indifferent to such savagery, such desire for outside actors to inflict carnage on the participants of the race. Even the Lanteeb Grand Prix, and all the incomplete races she ran, on Mindabaal, Luminoss, and in Chasin City on Commenor, were more tame than that: while on Luminoss there were obstacles, they were not supposed to be active obstacles. The missile was closing in on Dunames...

"Something is afoot: the cartel's hitmen have started firing anti-tank missiles at unsuspecting podracers!" Karine commented upon the firing of the missile.

"We have already seen worse in the first lap: in comparison, QRA-1768 on Lanteeb seven years ago was pretty tame" Althea added.

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective: Crush the Ka Zor
Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Jacques"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Preliat Mantis"]
Post: 3

Varas sipped a glass of ale, letting the bitter liquid slide down her throat to rest uncomfortably in her stomach. She pushed the drink away, not sure why her fellow Ren found alcohol so alluring. Perhaps she’d inherited the distaste from her father, versus her mother who was always one martini glass away from rehab.

Now a piece of quinberry cake on the other hand…

She kept glancing over at Kyrel Ren, but when he looked her way, she’d quickly cast her eyes downward, staring at her fingers instead. Just seeing the scars and burns upon his skin caused her to shudder, recalling his own memory of the fateful TIE crash and painful recovery.

An otherworldly breeze crept over her, causing goosebumps and even stranger, slamming the windows of the cantina shut. And then she heard the voice of Decitus Ren as the woman’s voice echoed around her subconscious.

Curious about her father’s response, she warned herself to not stare at him again. His countenance had been as cold as the wind that had just moved around the room, and Varas didn’t need to give him any additional reasons to loathe her. She only gazed ahead and waited for orders.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Post 5
Phu

​

Mishel nodded in acknowledgement and watched [member="Zmej Ren"] for a moment. Her hands in her pockets as she watched Abraxo again, quietly she approached and said, "might be a minute before they get here, and sister's always saying that I need to practise." The teenager moved her right hand from her pocket and outstretched it and focused on Abraxo. She concentrated momentarily she knew nothing of psychometry and would only be able to draw from his current thoughts to assemble a projection, an illusion of his boss or rather the sounds of him. Mishel shut her eyes and moved her left hand out as she got closer to Abraxo. The disciple began to draw on the senses of the Devaronian to assemble the illusion to a greater perfection, she knew not of force wound or any other mystical technique but this would have to do.

"You, traitor, how dare you sell me out to the First Order, Abraxo," she said but to him, it would be as if his very own boss were there in the flesh speaking to him, she mimicked the sensation she had experienced when Samka had played to her mind weeks ago on Virgillia. Her eyes were still shut, squeezed tightly as she moved to maintain the illusion, sweat began to form this was still a new power for her one she had only just begun to grasp. Twitches of lightning sparked from her fingers as her left hand made contact with his mind so she could better focus her illusion, "liar Abraxo, I should have killed you myself. Blasted Ran hide, you and yours are mine to kill now." The lightning would do little to harm the man, if anything small scars would remain but little else as she took in a breath and sweat rolled down her face.

 

[Kayla Wylen]

Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Mishel Zanteres"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Preliat Mantis"] | [member="Jacques"]
Post: 2

As the steaming cup of caf in front of her was cooling, just enough so Kayla found it to be bearable to drink, a wave of the Dark side crept through her as doors and windows slammed shut. The feeling of being surrounded by Darkness was not a strange one to the s'kytri, however. Most if not all other Ren were attuned to the Dark Side but she was not, she was a lonesome follower of the path of the Light. Their goals were still the same, their allegiance to the First Order and the Supreme Leader linking her with the collective regardless of this. She was an outcast in many ways; her appearance, her alignment in the Force, her personality itself, but that did not matter. The difference was irrelevant. Her differing features, her wings especially, were used to aid her brothers and sisters. She had learned to keep her own bubble of the Light inbetween the Darkness and felt no discomfort around the others. She was distant, but friendly and cooperative. Her service to the Ren went above everything, always.

The words of Samka Derith then echoed in her mind, indicating the plan had been set in motion. Kayla simply looked around for any suspicous activity in response to the Ren Master's actions, but did not seem to notice anything just yet. Taking a sip of her slightly cooled-off drink she waited.

That was the plan, at least.

Almost immediately afterwards one of the people next to the woman took his glass and used it as a weapon, stabbing one of the suspects in the eye with it. She watched him slump to the floor as he returned to the Force, something she had not wished for. He had to answer for his crimes, but killing him was not justice in her eyes. It was the Supreme Leader's choice what his fate would have had to have been, but for that man it was now too late. She got up and would have checked on the one whose body now no longer moved, but knew it was pointless.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Post 4
The Phu-Phuii Classic, VIP Stands

Beka held her hand out for the credits, reaching slightly over a man in the end seat to reach the next one in the row. She counted out the credits, dropped them into her cash drawer, and discreetly picked up a tracker, dropping it into the drink before she stretched and bent to deliver the drink to the man. Unfortunately, it never made it to the customer. The man in the end seat saw his opportunity and placed his hand on the inside of Beka's thigh, causing her instinctive response to kick in. She flung the drink into his eye and then delivered an elbow to his face, breaking his nose.

This, as it turned out, was a mistake.

The man was on his feet instantly, swinging at Beka with rage. She managed to dodge the first blow, but she wasn't counting on the capacity of a gang to stick together. Someone seized her from behind, locking her arms behind her back.

Don't panic. We trained for this. She flexed and bent, hurling the man over her shoulders and into the man who was attacking from the front. She turned to see the entire surrounding stands standing up to get a good look at the commotion, and some thugs were coming at her -- some armed, others empty-handed. Beka quickly took in her options; she couldn't run to the top of the stands because there was nowhere to go. She could theoretically run to the bottom of the stands, but there was security down there, too.

Instead, she raised her hands above her head. "Hey -- rules are rules, and if you try to cheat the boss, you get what you deserve, right? He tried to stiff me on the drink!"

She wasn't sure this convinced them.

[member="Adrian Calipsa"]

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Location: Phu
Objective: Assist with interrogation
Post: 1
Allies: [member="Mishel Zanteres"] | [member="Zmej Ren"]

When she slipped quietly into the shop, the stench of death and burning flesh struck Emilia like a blow to the face. She was dressed in civilian clothing. White polo, low-quality black pants and cheap shoes. On top she wore a long grey coat, her ID and a small hold-out blaster were stowed in the pockets. She'd been on her way to lunch, having just gone off-duty from her monitoring station at the race, when she was called to assist with interviewing a captured suspect. She hadn't expected this.

Slowly, Emilia made her way into the back of the cramped shop where low voices tumbled out, tinny and distorted. Being careful not to make a sound, she put her ear against the door, catching snippets of conversation. When she felt confident it was safe to enter, she rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, yelling "FOSB! I'm coming in!" She strode into the back room, sweeping her eyes across the room looking for threats. Her gaze passed over the first body, evoking little reaction. When she saw the corpse of the second man, however, she recoiled. It was from this man that the acrid stench of burning was coming from, and his remains were barely recognizable as human. Emilia swallowed hard, and surveyed the two women, one was crouched by the prisoner, talking firmly to him in low tones. The other had turned to see her enter, and Emilia addressed her.

"Cryptolinguistics Officer Emilia Ravel of the FOSB reporting, what is it you need?"

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Emilia Ravel"] [member="Mishel Zanteres"]

​

Mishel took the initiative – prompting Zmej to take a step back and relax, observe the fellow Ren at work and possibly learn a thing or two. Putting her chosen interrogating tool back down, the blonde reached into her uniform and retrieved a cartoon of cigarras, a guilty pleasure as of late. One immediately found its way towards the tip of her lips and she ignited the other end, eyes never leaving her sister’s performance. The only thing the blonde missed now was some good music, as taking in the tabac scented smoke delivered an instant relieve from stress.

Rolling the taste in her mouth, she couldn’t help but grin when Mishel’s powers manifested as powerful illusions. Impressive work, actually, reminding Zmej of just how endless the repertory of Force powers was. Studying the brunette’s techniques with evident interest, she took the cigarra from her mouth and puffed the smoke out. A shimmering flash of blue briefly illuminated the scene.

“Bravo!” Zmej swiftly congratulated her sister upon witnessing the legendary Sith lightning technique spark from Mishel’s fingertips. That was exactly what she pushed for – robbing Sith of their secrets before disposing of the decaying order.

“Who is your boss?” questioned the blonde, “What do you know about the cartel?”

Abraxo now no longer maintained his tough composure, yet the stubborn fool refused to talk still. Before Zmej’s hand went for the conveniently shaped hydrospanner again, a red-haired agent came in. Offering a polite smile, she cut straight to the point.

“Good afternoon, agent. Sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid we need your expertise here. Our friend refuses to spill his guts about the cartel. Do what you must.”

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii classic
Allies: [member="Zmej Ren"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel

Like firing SAMs, firing anti-tank missiles at high-speed targets carried their loads of risks. That much the Ka Zor cartel did not understand, especially not when the missile crashed in the corner of a turn. Or perhaps they were not actually hoping to hit the pods, but only cliff walls that could create rock slides, which can, in turn, endanger vehicles. Anybody in the business of firing SAMs or even anti-tank missiles knew that, even with the best of tracking, if a missile was forced to maneuver, its range was going to be reduced; it thus came to no surprise to some hitmen that a missile hitting a corner would be dangerous. And it also forced the pod #4 to crash into a boulder, exploding behind Dunames and making the third lap much more complicated for any survivor. Even then Dunames had to concentrate real hard to be able to overtake an additional pod; it was miraculous that she could do such things when hitmen are firing left and right. With only two of the bookmakers' three favorites still in the running, the one bookmaker that was captured have refused to talk. Now in fourth place in the canyon, Dunames could feel that it was not going to be easy...

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

Location: Phu
Objective: Interrogation
Allies: [member="Zmej Ren"] | [member="Mishel Zanteres"]
Post: 2

Emilia nodded. Pulling up a metal chair, and taking a seat in front of the bloodied prisoner. The man looked wild. The other Ren woman, the young one, she'd been toying with the man's mind, and while he remained silent, she saw that he was close to his breaking point. The problem with Ren, that she had seen time and time again, is that they had no finesse. They were intimidating, terrifying even. But, they were not interrogators. They relied on force tricks and brutality. But the true trick to interrogation was making the person think you're on their side, until you've laid your trap.

She started by introducing herself. "Good afternoon, Mr Abraxo. You don't know me, but I have a feeling by the time we're done we'll be very close." She sat back, putting on a relaxed expression. "There's no need to be uncomfortable, Mr Abraxo, I think you'll find me to be a lot nicer than my two friends here." She gestured to [member="Zmej Ren"], and [member="Mishel Zanteres"]. "Now," she said, clapping her hands together. "Let's talk about you, Mr Abraxo, are you from here? Or are you an off-worlder?"

Emilia pulled out her pen and pad, opening to a new page. Outwardly, she displayed supreme confidence. To Abraxo, it would be obvious that she was in control. At the same time, her posture was open, unguarded, trustworthy. Despite analyzing every detail of the situation, looking for an advantage, Emilia appeared to be quite bored. As if she had other things to be doing. But of course, it was all part of the act.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Post 6
Phu

​

​

Mishel had heard [member="Zmej Ren"] and soon the voice of [member="Emilia Ravel"] and thus broke from her illusions. The young disciple took a few steps back, she looked over to the blonde knight and then turned her attention away as she looked for a drink, somewhere. When she found nothing the teenager pulled herself up to sit on top of a workbench. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve, the brunette watched the redhead work and sighed. The Tygaran ran a hand through her messy hair and looked at her hand a moment, the agent sounded bored and she wanted to catch up with the Knight-Sister. It had been far too long since either of them had seen or heard from the other. "Sister," Mishel called and then waved her over, her stomach rumbled she needed to grab food and make her way to the race. In the time that Zmej had been gone, the brunette had grown more comfortable in her own skin.

"Why don't we leave the interrogation to the uh, professional." She all but sassed while she tucked away loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Should head out to the races, see what we can see. Plus, I'll buy you lunch, we have a lot of catching up to do. Unless of course, you need me to lend you a hand?" Mishel detached her cybernetic hand and waved it for the blonde to see before she chuckled and put it back on. Wiggling her fingers about the teenager got down from the workbench. "Remind me to tag this place to buy later," she looked back down to the workbench behind her, "good spot."

"My sister and I are probably gonna go grab something to eat, did you need anything? I mean, we wouldn't want to be in your way or anything, gorgeous." Mishel gave the redhead a wink, ah Seiger bless, the alcohol was probably kicking in.

 

[Zmej Ren]

Location: Phu
Allies: [member="Mishel Zanteres"] [member="Emilia Ravel"]

A spit into face would be the only answer Abraxo was willing to give. In that moment, an invisible noose tightened around his throat and the Devaronian’s grin vanished. Bulging eyes and fruitless gasps for air became his most distinguishing features in the next moment as Zmej’s telekinetic grip refused to go. Not even moving her hands, merely focusing her gaze at the man’s throat, she gave him enough time to reconsider his approach before finally letting go. Acting as if nothing had happened, Zmej Ren casually strolled towards the agent, albeit her predatory eyes never left the prisoner’s chained form. He still believed to be in control – shattering this belief was the key to making him sing all about his boss and the dangerous cult.

“I trust you have everything under control,” Zmej spoke, “Use any means necessary to make him talk.”

It was obvious this particular FOSB agent’s methods wildly differed from the most common procedure, yet Zmej offered her the benefit of the doubt. She did not care how the red-head accomplished her task – all the Ren desired were results. Confirmed results. Who had the time and patience to hunt after fairy tales?

Zmej spun around on her heel, raising her eyebrows at Mishel’s proposition. Momentary silence and a soft twitch in the corners of her lips remained the only answers as the blonde purposely left her dark haired sister hang in suspense.

“Hungry already?” the fair-haired agent smirked, “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after the interrogation?”

Laughter. Just a joke. Her head turned back to the FOSB operative.

“I expect you’ll have his full confession once we return.” The Ren informed and nodded towards Mishel again before setting off.

 

[Hansen]

Shaehan Timiari
Belgaroth Sector, FIV Malice, Hanger, Smuggler Spice Vessel, Bridge
Post #: 1
Objective: Anti-Piracy

The crew of four weequay smugglers sit soundly defeated after a brief scuffle involving a blaster pistol and some punching, their wrists bound in stuncuffs while the frighteningly massive Eldorai warrior in her powered exoskeleton uses her index finger to open the ship's communications array. Shaehan's nostrils inhale deeply with eyes pursed shut, bending to the right she sets the massive modified Z-6 Rotary Blaster cannon down effortlessly before continuing to interact further with the bridge instrumentation, speaking with a deeply pitch voice modulated by her menacing helmet's annunciator. "Malicious Acorn this is Lightning-one, standby to receive cargo manifest of 'Blue crescent' Out" The monotonous and deep timbre announcement meant the non-compliant vessel has been appropriately subdued along with her tanned-skin crew. Shaehan's helmet lenses peer over shoulders back to them...Such unattractive creatures and for a moment Shaehan quietly wonders what kind of a planet produces such unpleasant looking and sounding creatures. Leaning down she picks up the Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon and looks over it for a moment before steadying it in both hands before walking back down the narrow hallway and carefully avoiding the weequary men. Passing a pair of white-armoured Stormtroopers she offers a courteous albeit unacknowledged nod before the two Troopers heave up the first detainees and follow behind the Eldorai Auxillary towards the vessel's boarding ramp.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] [member="Tmoxin Temi"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Location: Phu
Objective: Run the Phu-Phuii classic
Allies: [member="Zmej Ren"]
Enemies: Ka Zor Cartel

And then came the sharp hairpin turn at the end of the canyon. Still nestled in fourth position, she found it much more difficult to attempt overtaking opponents than she initially thought it would be. The Polydroxol knew that the opportunity to overtake opposing drivers would come but not at the canyon's exit; it was too narrow for more than one pod at a time. She had to slow down so as to not crash into the canyon's exit only to boost later in an attempt to overtake her opponents. A top-3 finish from Dunames' part would further infuriate the bookmakers being interrogated, even more so than a mere top-10 finish would... Althea would only realize it now. It appears that another bookmaker has been attempting to feed her some false news. Some false news planted in hopes that the viewers would not realize the real extent of what's going on at the race. But once Dunames actually comes out of the canyon for the second lap's ending, the boost begins, and the top three are within earshot of each other. Perhaps she will finish the second lap in the lead and further infuriate the Ka Zor Cartel...

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Post 7
Phu

​

"I think I've seen enough, this is how we interrogate holovids at the Bastion to get me through the next decade," Mishel said with jest, "besides look at you, back from the dead as it were." She gave Zmej a soft smile as she led the way out of the garage. How many sisters had she lost in the last year? Too many, if she were to be honest, Kaalia, Ara and Zmej all disappeared and it left Mishel feeling alone. Two of the three had been there when she walked out of the tank. They all meant the world to her, Mishel had grown in Zmej's absence yes that was true she was changing. Growing up into the woman Seiger wanted. While in many ways she was still a child and lacked the understanding necessary. In other ways, she had come to understand the who, what, when, wheres and why of things and how they all fit together. As they left [member="Emilia Ravel"] to her own devices the two set forth into a crowd.

To be lost among the throng of people, to blend among the locals. "I was... I um, I went through a lot when you were gone and I needed you." Mishel was honest, she had to be honest, "you just left, with no goodbye with nothing. I couldn't feel you, I thought you were dead." She looked down at the ground a moment as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. Her attention drew from the ground and back to the blonde Knight. "I lost Ara to the Jedi at Bespin, and Kaalia betrayed us." Her heart hurt, "where were you."

It was a simple question, but it held so much weight. She knew Zmej never put much stock into emotions, save for anger. "I don't... I don't want to hear excuses, I just need the truth. You are my sister if you can't be honest with me then who can you be honest with?" Still, as young and naive as ever, the Tygaran teenager wanted so much to understand what was going on. As they moved through the crowd, she spotted a little out of the way diner. "Over there, looks like a place where we can continue this conversation, over some pudding even. Father knows I need to eat my feelings right now."

[member="Zmej Ren"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Post III
Objective: Stop the rogue vessel
Location: Balgroth Deep Space

The Fleet Admiral eyed the space around his fleet, the TIE Fighters patrolling deep space and the cruisers which corralled the suspect vessels. It was a tight military operation. The best kind. Rausgeber had taken something of a back seat while his numerous subordinates hammered away at the details, writing constant progress reports as their stormtrooper units boarded and confiscated numerous caches of spice, illegal weapons, and on one vessel, a rancor.

Carlyle was mildly amused, so this is what the black market was like. Taking things which were not theirs. He had just recieved a status report from the FIV Heroic, which had picked up a number of counterfiet droid parts. However, Rausgeber's thoughts were interupted by his Sensor Officer, "Admiral!" The officer barked, "Sir, we have an issue!"

The fleet commander turned back to the crew pits which were filled by diligent soldiers. "What is it?" Carlyle asked, curtly. This would have to be good.

 

[Tmoxin Temi]

Location: FIV Malice, Deep Space In The Belgaroth Sector
Objective: Explore the Malice
Allies: [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
Posts: 4

Carlyle Rausgeber was too distracted to be a tourist attraction to the Hapan visitor, so she politely excused herself and found the First Order Minister of Tourism who had organized her space trip.

“Since the esteemed Admiral is busy, I would like to see the garrison if you may.” The MIT, a short human named Minister Prost nodded and accompanied Tmoxin. The FIV Malice was massive, and the walk to the part of the ship which housed any ground troops awaiting planetary deployment was a good thirty minutes. Fit and trim from riding keffis and regular workouts, it was a brisk stroll for executive, and Prost seemed to have no trouble with it. The Blood Monarch could tell that the Admiral ran a tight ship based on the purpose and precision with which his crew operated around the Malice.

After touring the garrison, Prost said, “We’ve confiscated a rancor. Would you like to see that, Miss Temi?”

Her freckled nose wrinkled in distaste. “Not particularly. But I’d love to meet some of the junior officers, and well, there’s not much else to do but relax and play sabbac is there? It’s not as if this is a true military engagement. The Admiral’s rounding up a bunch of pirate scum after all.”

While the passage of time was difficult to gauge when one was on a star destroyer, Tmoxin reasoned that it was five o'clock somewhere, and she’d been awake long enough to warrant a glass of dry red wine to be perched in her gloved hand.

 

[Progflaw99]

Post IV \\ Objective I, Big Game Hunt​

The hunt must continue. And so it was that Buruk found himself amidst the salvage fields. The appointed time had come and gone, and yet no First Order representatives had appeared. *More dosh for me.* thought the Mandalorian to himself. The only problem would now be his gross lack of manpower. The beasts in question were no small things, neither were they harmless. Droidbreakers. Only a fool would consider capturing one, they ate durasteel as a snack. How the First Order intended to contain the creature wasn't his problem. Silently cursing his luck, he yanked his boot free of a sludge puddle. Beneath the mess of scrap metal and refuse, a toxic sludge covered much of the planet, a soft bed resting beneath the salvage yards. Limited exposure such as this would have negligible effects but Buruk could only imagine what would happen should a person live here.

He yet had several kilometers to go before reaching the last known berthing ground of a particularly large Droidbreaker - the locals had even named it. Caragor, after an ancient beast.

[member="Caehl Ren"]

 

[RIP Carlyle Rausgeber]

Objective: Evasive Action
Location: Deep Space, Balgroth
Post: IV
Allies: [member="Tmoxin Temi"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfuQd_xZlKw&t=42s​

"Sir, a vessel has-!" The officer began, but Carlyle already saw what he meant. A larger cargo freighter, probably a good seven, to eight hundred meters had just broken loose of where it had been positioned. The larger vessel had just slammed its weight into a smaller corvette which was making patrols, and now was headed to the Malice. Carlyle's eyes widened with shock, and horror as he realised what was about to transpire. He turned to the crew pit.

"Activate the alarm!" He barked, "Take evasive action!" The crew began to hurry to their positions, as the Malice fired up her engines. The long, mournful whine of the alarm began to play over all the speakers and intercoms within the vessel. Immediately, the Malice's turbolaser batteries began to open fire upon the vessel, but it was too ineffective, at this close range, there would be no way the amount of batteries that were in place would be able to effectively destroy or disable the vessel.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Post 8
From Phu to the FIV Malice

After lunch with [member="Zmej Ren"]. Mishel drifted off and had intended to head to the races, but was called out. Rather, called away to the FIV Malice. It seemed her time on the planet was done and she would be recalled. Most likely to be sent back home, and this left Mishel feeling like she had done little to further the influence of her father's empire. Disheveled hair, and clothes to match soot covered hands from the fire. She toyed with the junberry soda in her hand, the recycled glasteel bottle clanked against the frame of the shuttle. Her head against the viewport forehead pressed against it out of boredom. The shuttle sped away from the planet and over time it became smaller, and smaller until they reached orbit where the stars greeted her. The trip to the Malice would not take long, and for Mishel it would be too soon before she reached First Order space, university and days at the bastion laid ahead and she wasn't eager to be at either place.

In time.

She could hear the pilot talking with someone from the Malice, the ship was coming into view soon enough. The Tygaran teenager rose from her seat and headed to the ramp, and waited for it to descend. Once aboard the girl would head to the mess hall, grab some real food and not whatever passed as a meal down on Phu.

[member="Tmoxin Temi"] | [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]