Private The Great Imperial Breakup

[Jsc]

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Planet Nomad 541

Out near Ession in the Outer Rim, Neutral Space​

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They called it, The Battlestar Casino.

It was built by crazed Sith-Imperial scientists years ago as a test bed for new alien technologies and pacification techniques. Originally designed to be used against the Duros Banking Elite, it would become a one-of-a-kind achievement in Casino Fortress technology. A city sized gambling installation. Built like a Star Destroyer. Armed like a Star Destroyer. Yet, decorated like a Nabooian Palace and carpeted like 35th century tropical retreat.

How it got from the cosmopolitan planet of Duros to the empty desert planet of Nomad 541 is, honestly, anybodies guess? Still. The fact remains. It is a wildly impressive piece of Imperial tech. Even out here in the middle of no-where.

Even when it's on fire.

Burning from the inside out.

Fast forward to now. Right now. This week had been hell for Colonel Kano and her disgraced garrison of Imperial twerps. Her girlfriend ... Well. Ex-girlfriend. Let's be precise. ... Had just invaded her giant floating casino fortress and was easily tearing up the place. And why!? You might ask? Well ... Let me tell you.

Because love hurts. Okay.

Bleh. Disgusting, was what it was. Kano was thinking of calling the week thus far: The Great Imperial Breakup from Hell.

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Indeed. Thus far the fighting had been going on for days.

Colonel Kano had dispatched army after army of Imperial battledroids and giant walker mechs to every portion of the giant floating casino station. And in every corner of the casino they now battled Red Lexi's limitless army of moronic desert bandit scum. Bandits, who, disdainfully, were armed to the teeth with blasters, rippers, plasma clubs, rocket launchers, grenade baskets, and rotary scorch cannons. (Whatever that frak a rotary scorch cannon was!? Pfft.) -shrugs- Anyway. They even had these little remote-controlled cars with bombs strapped to them they called "Boomers," they used for blowing up the mech's legs and tipping them over. Ugh. ...The creeps. Kano hated them. All of them.

But she hated Red Lexi more.

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Chapter One

Get Inside the Station​

You arrive to a backwater system once owned by many a Sith Faction. It's unremarkable in every way. A binary star. A few planetoids. Some junk metal asteroids. Not much else. The planet Nomad 541 sits in the middle of the planetoid formation. Barely habitable. Mostly barren rock. A desert no-where with nothing to offer but solitude from the galaxy and the eye-roll of every Sith Magistrate who ever owned it from afar.

This place was charted, surveyed, and ignored; years ago. But mostly just ignored.

Still. The intel was definitely good. This is the place. Somewhere down there is a casino fortress just bursting with loot, secrets, and easy money. And being the only city-sized Imperial installation on the planet? Yeah. It won't be hard to find either.

...

Meanwhile,

Down on the planet below. The Battlestar Casino is floating effortlessly in the hot afternoon sky. It's white hull mimics the patterns of Imperial Star Destroyers. It's angled hulls brimming with quad-cannons, turbolaser towers, missile platforms, radar beacons, and (surprisingly!,) pink neon signs advertising their slot machines and card tables. All in glowing Aubresh and Duro'ese script. Huh? Kind of a strange culture-clash there, to be sure.

Likewise. Small plums of black smoke twirl away from the station and linger in the air. Tiny fires burn along the gleaming surface of the station. Signs of battle and terrible explosions litter it's landscape. Small holes, just big enough to fit a whole Starfighter through, pot-mark the station's exterior and many of the exterior traffic shielding flickers on-and-off with a quiet blue hum. This place has been hit hard. Burned and shot and punch through. All from the inside out and back down again.

Kano and Lexi's armies have been ruthless. Yet, much of the grandeur and splendor of this palatial location remains. A vacation amongst the stars.

Anyway,

Most of the landing bays are open and unaccompanied. Exterior traffic shields are spotty at best. Mmm. Yeah. Visitors won't have any trouble landing. Easy stuff. ... Well? Aside from all the guns and missiles on the exterior, that is. You'll probably be shot at by the accompanying salvo of a dozen angry Star Destoryers and a hundred or so turbolasers. But hey? When has that ever stopped you before? Your ship's stealth? Right?

The hanger bays resemble those of standard Imperial construction. High ceilings, bright lights, muted colors, glossy floors; the usual. Just the type of goose-stepping welcome you'd expect from a bunch of sith space nazis.

Whether you land inside or out on the burning, pot-marked exterior? You'll quickly be attacked by a large gang of murderous bandit scum wielding rocket launchers and auto-blasters. Screaming idotic things like, "Die Furries!" and "Witness Me!" All while firing their guns blindly in your direction with a reckless abandon and a berserker's suicidal confidence that would make even a Mandalorian blush.

Yes. Meet, The Red Death Gang.

Red Lexi's posse of drugged-up desert morons. The enforcer's of her dark heart and the backbone of her vengeful chaotic army.

So? ... Kill them for me, yeah?​

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Thanks!​

. . .​

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

-----------------------------------------THEN​

So there he was. Minding his own business. Well, he was actually pretending to study in the archives. There was this one Miralukan librarian that was pretty fabulous. His sisters would call him gross, or lame, his mother would shake her head and his father would lecture him. Too bad he hadn't seen any of them in years. Anyway, he was minding his business...his business being the persistent attempt to 'run into' Fangra Magellium.

"Branydn. Yoo hoo, Brandyn!"

It was Roc. What in the danged fragnabbits was he doing here? Brandyn looked about to realize that it was not just Roc that was present, but all the 'gang'. The small team of Padawan had bonded on Mygeeto and now found themselves everything from a study group to a fraternity of sorts.

"Roc...Bex'l...Ralia...all you...others," Brandyn said, pretending to have been sleeping, "what are you doing here?"

"Your eyes were open Bantha Turd," Ralia said with a roll of her eyes.

Brandyn started to protest but was cut off by the Bothan member of their 'gang'. "Still trying to get Fangra's attention?"

"It is...not like that at all," Brandyn said as he closed his book.

"Spare us the dribble numb-butt," Ralia said before thrusting a data-pad into Brandyn's hands, "read it...look...see...there is a mission in Sith space to recover some Turbolaser plans. They need a Jedi escort. We all signed up..."

"...ah...sounds great Ralia, but I have this thing..."

"We ALL signed up, Brandyn," she said, pointing his name out on the crew roster, "so grab your stuff...we leave in 20."

Brandyn watched as the gaggle of Padawan sauntered off, each chatting about the experience they were about to have. Brandyn turned away from the group with a look of annoyance on his face, the look instantly grew to utter disgust as he saw walking through the door one Fangra Megellium.

-------------------------------------------NOW​

"Die furries!"

What the hell!?

No. Actually. WHAT THE HELL!?

Brandyn had been briefed on the mission.

It was supposed to be a simple incisive mission. Get in, get out, all without being seen or even noticed until they were long gone. But the mission briefing had changed while on the way to the backwater, armpit of a world. Apparently there had been an attack on the Imperial facility. Now the mission parameters were to use this attack as cover for their heist.

A second after the crazed, tatted up gang member yelled something about furries, a rocket was launched from their shoulder mounted weapon. Both Ralia and Kreega stepped up and with raised hands directed the rocket away from the ship and their team, the explosion sending a concussive blast across the platform but detonating far enough away to not cause any damage.

Brandyn and Roc advanced, deflecting blaster shots. This was no simulation though. These seemed to be bandits who were worse at aiming than your standard run of the mill Imperial trooper, and that was something quite a lot. With each shot from their foe being so random and unexpected, advancement was slow going, that was until Bex'l stepped up to the plate with a few well timed Force pushes.

The padawans advanced. They were the good guys, so they didn't pause for a second to think about th goons that Bex'l had just sent plummeting towards a hard stop and instant death.

Music for the Moment​

 

[Krenis Skirata]

The wind whipped past Krenis' helmet as he plummeted from the sky. There were far too many turbolasers on that...abomination of a casino... for him to try and take a shuttle. First of all, who thought to arm a casino like an armada of star destroyers. Second, why hadn't people considered that before. Then again, holofilms like Star's Twelve suggested that casino heists were incredibly complicated and highly skilled stealth operations, which not even a Death Star's worth of turbolasers would defend against.

Then again, there was also a vicious battle being waged over some sort of breakup, from what he heard, which was quite a surprise? But it did make his job easier. There were no allies on this casino that he was aware of. The wisps of cloud faded away as he dropped past them and angled his descent towards a hole in the hull. Turbolaser fire whistled in all directions, but he was far too small for them to target effectively. Slight shifts in his angle adjusted his descent and angle until the hole loomed directly ahead of him.

He cradled the Westar carbine in his arms, tucked his body, and flipped forward, activating the jetpack on his beskar'gam. The shock rippled through his body, but he let it go, absorbed by the shock absorbers in the armor as he slid through the hole blown in the hull. Screams and blaster fire rippled through the whole structure as he lowered himself to the ground.

There was no stopping before he was moving, angling away from the light from the hull and behind a half shattered fake plant vase. He'd escaped detection so far, but that wouldn't last for very long. He needed to get into the vault and then out as quickly as possible.

 

[Jsc]

You ever DM'd a thread where two out of the three participates made their introduction posts just totally ignoring the bandit opposition you said they'd face head on and then pretend to just land on the station "unhindered" and unnoticed. Haha.

Yeah. Pfft.

Wankers.

Do you even read? I SAID FIGHT BANDITS DAMN IT!



Haha.

Anyway. DM voice aside... coughs

M Mark Air Gami and Krenis Skirata would find themselves surrounded by a presidium of unabashed entertainment. High ceilings, endless corridors. Tall as a whole city and as wide as a Jedi Temple. Just as expansive too. Red coruscanti carpeting, blood marble columns, and streaming holographic windows as tall as a Rancor. And the music! ...Oh. The music.

Sax baby! This was pop jazz. Crazy saxaphone jams. Mmmhmm.

That was, of course. When the speakers system wasn't cutting in and out. Popping and fizzling like it had been shot in the mouth and in the foot and then set on fire and throw out the airlock too. Boom. Crack. Static. Sputtering out jam tunes before crackling and popping back into oblivion. Mmm. Must have been the fire and bullet holes everywhere. The burn marks on the walls. For, nothing destroys a scene so palatial and perfect as an Imperial casino than pure, karking, chaos.

It vibrated through the floor. It echoed through the walls. You could hear the battles raging on every floor above you. On every floor below you. On floor and ceiling and casino slot machine a mile or two away. Sometimes the station rocked and tipped completely. As if an earthquake had just taken you. Or, like somebody had shot out the stabilizers on this giant floating fortress and forgotten to sober up before driving her through an asteroid belt. Echoes of huge explosions. Boom. Crack. Followed by the swaying of gravity itself and the sputtering of the radio system high above. Boom. Crack. Static. Just like pure. karking, chaos.

Yeah. It felt like this whole place was falling apart.

Probably because? It kinda was.

. . .

___


Chapter Two

Make it to the Main Terminal​

Also, try not to die​

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All roads lead to Main Terminal One.

That wasn't just a saying either. Nor was it just plastered on every sign on every bright holographic casino corridor. Oh no. All roads did, in fact, lead to just one spot. On purpose too.

The Red Death Gang was everywhere and Colonel Kano had to find a way to box them in. So, long story short? She cut all the turbolifts except the one's out of Main Terminal One. The heart of the Shopping District. The center of this whole darn taboo. Cutting off many parts of the station and keeping the bandits separated. Exasperated. And very far, far, away from each other too. Effectively containing many of their awkward pushes and giving her battle droids and heavy mechs a chance to crush them back.

All roads lead to Main Terminal One.

A giant shopping arcade. Covered in gardens, and white pillars, and sculpted trees. Littered with neon lights and neon signs and neon shops of every kind. Each one just as smashed, ransacked, turned-over, and pillaged as the last. A giant cacophony of literal wasteland, trash, and blinking drink machines.

Ooo! And did I mention it had a Food Court! Because, it did. And the pizza was to, die, for.

Really.

That dude on the counter of the pizza shop? Yeah. Totally dead. I swear. Super. Dead.

Anyway. So yeah. Sneak, steal, smash, or just tip-toe your way on down to Main Terminal One, dear reader. I swear there won't be any bandit psychopaths here to...

"DIE YOU WANKERS! AGHH!"​

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Oops, nope. I lied. There's bandits here too.

"AGHH! I'M GOING TO EAT YOUR METAL BUCKET FACE OFF AND MAKE A SMOOTHIE OUT OF YOUR HELMET! NOW DIE! AGHH!"​

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que obligatory random gunfire, grenade launchers, and incomprehensible bandit profanities here <--- <---​

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...Okay...

Yeah. Kark. That was sudden and terrible. Sorry. Forgot Brandyn Sal-Soren and the Padawan Pack were in the room. Indoor voices people. Sheesh.

Ahem. Anyway. So there are a few more Red Death bandit savages with automatic blasters and crazy-ass flame-throwers blocking your path down here too. Great. Super. Just wonderful. Bleh. Erm... Okay yeah. Same plan, I guess. Go ahead and murder'ize these guys too. Trust me. They deserve it. Ugh. ...Bandits. Just. Ugh. Gross.

ques the jazz music over the loud speakers

Ah! Thanks!​

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Oh. And just in case I haven't said it before! Welcome to Main Terminal One! Where all the turbolifts lead to just one place. Death!​

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Have fun killers! ​