The Liberation of Sullust (New Republic Invasion of the First Order)

[Alexandra Feanor]

[SIZE=11pt]“[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Sullust was a barren, obsidian[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]world[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] of[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]lava[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] streams and turquoise lakes. Native fauna such as[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]ash angels[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] foraged during the[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]day[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] and returned to nest at night, while[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]rockrenders[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] prowled the planet's underground.[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] Because the planet's[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]atmosphere[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] was highly toxic, native[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Sullustans[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] lived in technologically advanced subterranean[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]cities[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] that were highly regarded for their beauty,[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] They commuted to work by lifts and[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]shuttles[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] that carried them to the[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]factories[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] on the planet's surface, alternating between day and night shifts.”[/SIZE]​

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That was the location of a recent First Order occupation and change in government, the unassuming jewel that was Sullust, a planet that hid its beauty under the surface quite literally. This was the site of the newest conflict that was boiling just under the surface, creating the coming storm that would envelope two nations. Its barren surface protecting the belly of it from the use of fleets upon its people, and its cities keeping all conflict to a tight and highly confined area inside the cities, but also in an mobile and guerilla like war among the caverns.​

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Today, would be the day that that things became just as chaotic under the surface, when the world of the Sullustans became one of conflict.​

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Republic Operators would be instructed, transported, and placed on the planet through means devised by the SIS or by their own more legitimate means. They would by lying in wait, watching and preparing for the moment to strike at their targets while others took to a pirate like fleet, filled with ships of all makes and markers, and using the old IFFs of a long dead pirate group named the Corsairs. The IFFs would be notably ancient in terms of use, perhaps even on record, having that they were more operational during the old CIS, back when the Omega Protectorate defended the planet.​

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And this fleet, would move into position, ready to inflict damage upon the enemies who would transport supplies to the planet, helping it maintain its control over the peoples there.​

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And then, beyond all those whispers, an artifact of significance in the force remained hidden below the surface, reaching out to light and dark and calling both to it, yearning to be claimed. It wished to see who would come for it, but not for the conflict that the Artifact would cause in searching for new owners. What the Artifact was remained unknown, even to the jedi with their records, or the Ren and the Sith advisors who followed rumors.​

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And then, below the surface, was the boiling unrest. Those targets that the SIS and the Republic Special Forces had been given, those targets that would be focused on to be dealt with.​

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First, there was the primary objective for the Republic Operatives, a prison holding suspected political prisoners and possible rebels and revolutionaries. Those Revolutionaries needed to be freed so that they may start a more sustained effort against the government of the planet, to create sufficient damage to the stability of the planet and interrupting the control that the First Order could assert over this sector. [SIZE=11pt]In addition there remained a rather significant individual locked within the prison, held deep inside the walls. A former Chief of State, itching to speak against her captors.[/SIZE]There was little that would achieve though if the Republic could not as well interrupt the reaction of the First Order troops planetside, which is where the secondary objectives given to Republic Operatives came in.​

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There was a supply train, as well as a garrison at the end of the rail line. The Auxiliary Garrison, named Marius was a semi permanent but very much the hardest obstacle placed before Republic Operatives, but it was arguably just as important as the Prison Break itself. It would require that the Republic Operatives assault or infiltrate it without heavy weapons or vehicles of any real kind designed for war, making do with whatever they could scavenge together.​

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This was the stage being set, the coming fire being fanned into existence as a dark haired woman stood there, running her fingers through the black hair she wore, a simple change in the color. She was marking away at a datapad, recording the event and waiting with a grin crawling slowly over her face.​

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Let the Games begin, and history be written in the blood of those on this planet.​

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https://youtu.be/MRBIJU60AL8​

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OOC:​

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Hello and Welcome everyone, apologies if the opener is kinda bland or bad... first time.​

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Anyways, with that said, I hope everyone enjoys the thread, the objectives can be found at this link, and a heavy thanks to [member="Rolf Amsel"] for his work on the objectives.​

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The Allies, as determined (thus far) are as follows.​

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First Order Allies:​

1. [member="Koda Fett"] ​

2. [member="Joycelyn Zambrano"]​

3. [member="Micah"]​

4. [member="Kaine O'Doran"]​

5.​

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New Republic Allies:​

1. [member="Chekīta Awaud"]​

2. [member="Shia Kryze"]​

3. [member="Cuan Kunn"]​

4. [member="Odin Stormbreaker"]​

5. ​

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So ya, welcome to the thread. Please use the OOC Linked HERE if you want to do some planning and have fun. Ill be around to help mediate any issues and I ask everyone please use the OOC thread or the Republic Discord, as we have a channel for FO and Republic members to talk over this dom and plan things out in real time there.​

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https://discord.gg/dvnPmrt​

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And one last note...​

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For The Republic!​

 

[Natasi Fortan]

https://youtu.be/-44gLMIacq4​

Allies: [member="Rolf Amsel"] | The First Order
Enemies: None yet
Objective: Propagandize
Location: Near First Order Garrison


“How are we doing on that sound check?”

Lydia Finn-Camden was standing in the back of the news speeder, examining her appearance in a mirrored compact as she addressed her cameraman and producer, James Birruh. Birruh was a veteran of the Camden Media Group Network, and had been a member of the crack away team since Lydia’s brother had been in charge. Since his untimely death and her taking over, Jim Birruh had continued to perform at the highest level, covering current events in war zones and conference rooms alike.

He had put in his time, so he felt that he had earned the right to share his misgivings. “I’m going to take this opportunity to say one more time that you shouldn’t do this.” ‘This’ was a live broadcast from Sullust, the planet upon which they currently stood, detailing the First Order’s efforts on a former capital of a vanquished, hated enemy. Well, he amended silently, not all the First Order’s efforts. “It’s dangerous.”

Jim didn’t need to see Lydia’s left eye in the compact as she touched up her eyeshadow to know she had rolled it. “I appreciate your concern, Jim -- I do -- but you don’t need to worry. The Sullustans have been gentle little lambs since the First Order blitzed the place. Besides, if they were to start shooting, you’d think they’d have a better target than me.” She set to touching up the coloring on her lips.

“The same was true at Kaeshana,” Jim said softly.

Lydia blanched, her already pale skin draining of the remainder of its color. After a momentary lapse, she resumed touching up her lips carefully. Finally, she said through gritted teeth: “Not everything is Kaeshana.” She snapped the compact shut and half-turned towards him. “Please see to the sound check. And Jim -- if you don’t feel it’s safe, we can use the drone and you can return to Dosuun. No hard feelings.”

A muscle in Jim’s jaw tightened. “Not a chance, boss.”

Lydia watched him go, suddenly feeling a sense of foreboding. Perhaps Jim was right to be concerned; after all, as grievously as Lydia had been injured at Kaeshana -- and it had been bad -- she had at least survived the ordeal. She might have been the only First Order civilian on the Kaeshana to have made it off -- not whole, perhaps, but alive. Perhaps it would be best not just to give him the option to leave, but to send him back to Dosuun unilaterally. She was the one who was tasked to make good on her company’s Ministry of Culture license and privileges, after all. It made no difference to Jim.

She frowned thoughtfully and pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail and deployed a spritz of perfume to her wrists. Lydia was shrugginginto her grey blazer when Jim reappeared in the doorway. “We’re golden,” he said. Lydia tugged her blazer into place, buttoned the top button around her trim midsection, and picked up her earpiece and worked it into her ear as she decamped from the truck.

“We’re going to use the drone, Jim,” Lydia said as she followed him to the place they had decided on, a broad plaza in front of the First Order’s new garrison. “This is my gig, so the risk will be mine. Can you just be sure it’s set up right?”

“That’s not necessary,” Jim said. “My point was -- “

“I know,” said Lydia quietly. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, a half-smile gracing her lips. “But I just need you to head back to Dosuun. Hold down the fort.”

Jim lapsed into a stony silence as he went to the camera drone controls. He examined the feedback screen as the drone hovered in front of Lydia, making an adjustment here and there until all was well. “Good to go,” he said.

Lydia did her own tests, gesturing, turning, and moving to be sure the drone was zooming, panning, and tracking as it should. “All right? Thanks, Jim.” She cued the drone and looked into its lense as the red light blinked a few times before going solid red. “Good evening, it’s 2100 hours in Avalonia. I’m Lydia Finn-Camden and you’re watching the Avalonia Broadcasting Service, part of the Camden Media Group Network. After the break, I’m taking you live to Sullust where I have exclusive access to show you the First Order’s efforts to turn this conquered former capital into a flourishing member of the First Order’s family of planets. Stay tuned after these words from sponsors. You won’t want to miss this.”

The light blinked off and Lydia looked over to Jim, who nodded. “Looks good. Sounds good.”

“Great.” There would be several minutes’ delay before her signal was broadcast to allow First Order censors to make any adjustments they felt necessary. The drone would chime to alert her that she was about to go back ‘on air.’ “I’ll see you when I get back.”

Jim nodded and left, leaving Lydia under the watchful eye of the First Order security forces that were escorting the news operation.

 

[Jaius Sovv]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2rdCgUXwqnI[/youtube]​

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Dosuun​

The Past​

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This was not the first time Jaius Sovv had set foot on the First Order's capital, but it was the first time he was here under at least a pretext of his own volition. He had taken [member="The Major"] up on her offer to plead his case directly to the Grand Moff, willing to risk everything for the sake of his people. It was difficult to know what was happening for sure on his homeworld as there were few sources outside the state run First Order media whose ulterior motives he found most questionable. Perhaps he was a fool to offer himself up to the whims of the same woman who had once effectively held him as a political hostage.

Since his last encounter with [member="Natasi Fortan"], the Sullustan had been practicing his chess. He was willing to bet that while her government may have been all too eager to incarcerate Jaius Sovv, exiled Alliance official and alleged terrorist, they would have a much more difficult time holding the newly elected Republic Vice Chancellor.

"The countryside is beautiful this time of year," he said at last. Neither of them had spoken much during the trip from the Core, and for all he knew once he entered Herevan Place they would not get another opportunity. It hurt to talk while he shuffled off the landing pad so he left it at that, leaning heavily on his cane for support in a way that hadn't been necessary as little as a year ago.

Sullust​

Present Day​

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"I'm home."

It was a surreal feeling, to return to the planet where he had spent almost his entire life, a planet that was in many ways already changing rapidly. Drifting further and further from the image of the Sullust that he had always known. Could he really trust the Grand Moff? Did he have the right to assume that life under First Order rule would be so abhorrent to his people that they should resist assimilation no matter the cost? Not without at least seeing an Imperial Sullust for himself. At first glance the capital city of Byllurun did not seem all that different, but they had not even left the spaceport before Jaius noticed his first major inconsistency. There was no Home Guard to be found anywhere, instead Imperial troopers staffed the entry port.

"I don't suppose we could stop by my warren for a few mementos," he wheezed at the Major, trying to downplay the effect this moment was having on him by making light, "Unless its all been seized by the state."

Jaius gripped the hovercane so tightly his knuckles were starting to turn white. He was running out of time.

 

[First Order Officer]

SULLUST SYSTEM
OUTER REACHES, BEYOND ORBITAL PLANE
FIV REMORA, TASKMASTER-CLASS ESCORT CARRIER
FLAGSHIP, TASKFORCE 38.5, SULLUST CONVOY ESCORT
SENIOR CAPTAIN ILLEXA RAJI COMMANDING

Seen from a great distance, a single star system doesn't really look like much. The star is always visible, of course, and a particularly observant individual (or one with good optical equipment) might be able to pick out the apparently static points of light that are the planets and other large celestial objects, but it lacks the grandeur and sense of scale given by a view of the galaxy overall. It was certainly not nearly an impressive enough view to distract Senior Captain Raji from the horrific monotony of convoy duty.

For probably the eighth time that watch alone, she scanned the display that listed the details for every ship in the flotilla. Nearly 50 transports, freighters, tankers, and cargo ships of varying sizes made up the convoy. A third were state-owned, with mixed military-civilian crews, that broad sub-sect of Fleet Forces operations that Raji thanked the force every day she hadn't ended up working as part of. The rest were corporate and private, loyal citizens, greedy opportunists, and daring entrepreneurs all working to make a credit running supplies and materials to and from a planet with dubious loyalty to the First Order.

To ensure that fifty ships could make their transit unmolested by pirates, space fauna, reptilian horrors, or wannabe resistance fighters, she had a grand total of five proper warships and a smattering of smaller escorts. She'd chosen the Remora to hold her flag simply because it had the best Command and Control facilities, certainly not for creature comforts, which were stark on the cramped ship.

They were still hours out from even approaching Sullust's outer orbit, creeping in comparatively slowly via sublight. After decades of service on military warships, one had a habit of forgetting just how primitive the navicomputers could be on many civilian vessels.

A prompt flashed on the console in front of her, an info-alert from one of the CIC watchstanders. One of the civilian vessels was asking about an odd contact signal they'd picked up on some obscure and possibly illegal sensor system jury-rigged to their transport. Raji just rolled her eyes, spacers jumping at ghosts again, as they always did. Once again she found herself wondering if accepting this command billet was really better than a posting to a Star Destroyer. The jury was still out on which type of major command was better for advancement to that coveted rank of Commodore.

But as sure as she was that there was nothing to be concerned of, the First Order didn't hold on to its reputation for naval supremacy for no reason. There were regulations to be followed, and orders maintained. A suspect contact meant a slight, but noticeable, increase in readiness posture.

"Mr. Von, I assume you saw the same report I did just now," she addressed the TAO, a young Lieutenant, in a quiet but firm voice. That he hadn't yet contacted her meant he had already missed the... opportunity.

"Er, yes ma'am. Erroneous contact, I uh, had the sensor team run a probe." Doubt edged his words. He was perhaps, too young to be sitting the watchstation, a note Raji filed away in her mind for later review.

"Potentially erroneous, Mr. Von. Have Connie 3-5 do a system sweep with search sector centered on said contact, then I want the standby squadron to set the alert posture." The Lieutenant stammered some excuse Raji didn't bother to listen to and went to work. It was almost certainly nothing to worry about, but you lost nothing by being over-prepared. The crew could use an unscheduled drill to help wake up anyway.

Task Force 38.5

Spoiler

1 x Taskmaster-class Escort Carrier: FIV Remora
1 x Project 71855-class Heavy Frigate: FIV Vortusa
1 x Lancer II-class Air Defense Frigate: FIV Whirlwind-9
2 x 849A-class Medium Frigate: FIV Bardon Sida, FIV Ket H. Anders
Several Corvettes
1 x FIPV-9 Kerunos SPV Connie 3-5

OOC Note: If you are a First Order character or ally who intends to bring ships into this thread, please contact me before posting for coordination.

 

[The Wayfarer]

Oda watched his surroundings attentively, his head hidden beneath straw hat. He and a group of non descript aliens boarded the small shuttle. A couple of the sentients carried with them large duffelbags. These were native Sullstans going about their day to day work. Supposedly carrying with them simple mining equipment. It quickly became crowded and some of the aliens disembarked, opting to catch the next flight. Oda began to move among the people who stayed aboard the shuttle and spoke simple words enhanced by the force.

"Go home," He whispered and they left as they were told.

Eventually he reached the end of the small shuttle and took a seat. He looked around for camera's and using mechu-deru he disabled them all. The shuttle took off and the Commandos went quick to work. They unzipped the duffelbag's and withdrew blasters, cables, and some explosives. It was going to be difficult, they would be fighting with no armor and the blasters were somewhat archaic. But, their was nothing that would lead them back to the Republic. Each man before The Wayfarer was ready to die for the cause and would bite out their own tongue before they gave up their brethren.

Oda stood from his seat and went about cutting a large whole in the Shuttles window pane. The wind began to rock the shuttle and each commando had to hold tightly as it slowed to a stop. They began readying cables and weapons. They wore simple nondescript spacer clothes, but appeared to be armed to the teeth. Breathing apparatuses were passed round and the commandos launched the cables atop the rocky cavern that housed a section the supply tram was known to go through. They landed with lithe and grace, speaking of their advanced training.

"Tram arrives in five minutes," Spoke the lead Captain

Oda simply nodded. He practiced simple meditations whilst they waited. Breathe in and out. He felt the air roll through his lungs, felt it expelled from his body. He knew that many lives would be lost no matter the actions they took. Men and women the Wayfarer had gotten to know as brothers and sisters. They would all die in the name of the cause. In the name of freedom, justice, and the end of all tyranny. Their sacrifice would not be in vain as hundreds would flock to the martyr's call. They just had to get the arms to the people.

He knew they were willing. They just had to give them the means... The very rocks beneath Oda's feet began to shake and he knew it was almost time. The ground beneath his feet quaked vehemently and he had to brace himself. The Tram flew beneath them and the lead commando waved a hand forward

"Go, go, go!"

He shouted as each box car passed beneath their feet. Three commandos per box. Totaling to fifteen commandos in all. The Wayfarer the captain and a corporal were the last to jump. They had to time this just at the right moment. Other wise the rendezvous plan would be for naught as they would land on the wrong box or miss entirely. The three jumped and they landed on top of a car. The Wayfarer could see the faint glow as the other commandos began to cut open the box cars. The Wayfarer withdrew his lightsaber and began to do the same.

The commandos began to drop through the roofs, but as they did Oda noticed an oncoming cavern. It's mouth was low enough that they would be crushed should they not cut it open fast enough.

"Hurry faster!" Shouted the three commandos in front of them.

The first team dropped in with seconds to spare. The second fell inside, milliseconds away from being crushed. The third team made it, but only barely. The wayfarer watched as each team dropped inside with pounding heart. It halted as the last team's plasma torch stopped. He let go of his saber and the commando captain took hold of it.

"It's not working!" Shouted the female lead of the team in front of them.

Oda rushed forward and with palm he caved the incomplete whole inwards using the force. The team dropped in just in the nick of time and the Wayfarer let out a sigh of relief as the last member fell into the dimly lit box car... He needed to get his saber back, he hoped the Captain and Corporal made it inside too...

[member="Nunak"]

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Location: Supply Train #646, Car No. 3
Objective: Ensure safe unloading and deployment of supplies to Marius and IDF Drilling
Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | Dergan Twigg (x)
Enemies: [member="The Wayfarer"]
Loadout:

Spoiler

Rexus Loadout:
DARKSABRE Power Armour (x)
12x Thermal Detonators
G-12A Blaster Rifle (x)
Lightsaber
Blackwing Electro Sword

Twigg's Loadout:
1x Dewback leg
DARKSABRE Power Armour
DH-52 Rotary Maser Cannon (x)
24x Thermal Detonators
1x Blackwing Electro Sword (x)

Rexus Wenck could hear the train coming, and rolling around a bend from the secure cabin afforded aboard the logistics craft. Part of him rolled his eyes at such duty. He and his squad were Death Troopers, no? Dergan Twigg was gnawing ferociously on some chewy sinew from his latest steak dinner, while Kyli dutifully cleaned her rifle. The elder stormtrooper took a drag from his cigar. It felt like an age since the trio had felt, or even seen sunlight. It seemed strangely sentimental to a man like Rexus, but he missed the feeling. He couldn’t quite recall when the last time he’d felt it was, before the oppressive Sullustian heat.

Still, his opinions didn’t quite matter. He was on duty, and as such, consigned to the draconian confines of this train car. Wenck had found himself, at least in recent weeks plagued. Despite the endorphin rush the medications he received gave, Wenck kept falling back to the words of his mother, lamenting her in spite of their strained relationship. But it was her warning, days before he got caught up with the Riffs which toyed at his conscience. “Don’t play with guns Rex… Don’t fool around with those boys Rex…” And it haunted him. That was the stumbling block. From where he went from illiterate youth, to killer. He felt guilt for what he’d done, murdering, and beating people obstinately to see them suffer, and in some cases just to watch the poor bastards die. Sadistic as that might be. And it felt, that every time the train whistled, he’d hear his mother. And with each reminder of her, he'd hang his head. Wishing of what could’ve been. What may have been.

The ex-stormtrooper gazed over to Kyli, “You know what gets me?” He asked, his voice hoarse, as he took a drag, “The fact we’ve been working this same damn shift for the last couple of weeks.” He continued, “While all these auxiliary bastards, all these officers, get to filter and in and out.” He moaned, “Probably off drinking caff and smoking Calrissians.” He shook his head, and kicked his feet up on a crate of AFTERLIFE stims. Of course he did the same, but hypocrisy was simply the way Rexus Wenck operated. Cantankerous, and always eager to push forward. “It tortures me man.” He said, looking at her, “I mean, look at us, we’re stuck here on glorified guard duty like some kinda assholes.”

“Sometimes,” He mused quietly, “I wish it wasn’t like this.” His voice was unusually quiet, “That I could be free, from all this.” He looked over at Kyli, locking eyes with her, as Twigg snapped the bone of his steak, and began to lick at its marrow. “I mean, I know I can’t.” He added quickly, “But it’s times like this I think, maybe, just maybe I should’ve settled down back in the day.” He shrugged, and stuck the cigar in his mouth and settled his body against the armoured cabin, “Just let the winds of fate, blow my blues away.”



The Death Trooper sighed, and looked at the ceiling. Force knew he wanted something to happen. Anything really at this point, just to take his mind from the past.

 

[Kier Grey]

Kyli DT-6767
Sullust Subterranean Caverns, A.G Marius Military Rail Line, Gravtrain 'Tarkin' Cargo Carriage #71
Nearby Allies: [member="Rexus Wenck"]
Nearby Enemies: [member="The Wayfarer"], [member="Nunak"]

Spoiler: Equipment

• Blackwing Electro-Sword​http://starwarsrp.net/topic/124303-blackwing-electro-sword/#entry1729999
• DARKSABRE Advanced Powered Assault Armour/Mark IX/ALPHA
• FastTurnhttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/FastTurn-3_Hydrospanner-3 Hydrospannerhttp://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/FastTurn-3_Hydrospanner
• G-6E Light Repeating Blasterhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/124727-g-6e-light-repeating-blaster/#entry1734297
• G-12A Blaster Rifle
• [SIZE=10pt]M1-NR "Nerve" Autoinjectorhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/103950-m1-nr-nerve-autoinjector/#entry1500738[/SIZE]
• Plasma Torch
• Stuncuffs
• [SIZE=10pt]VX Gas Grenadeshttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/103751-m1-vx-vee-ex-grenades/#entry1498254[/SIZE]

Kyli cleans her rifle with the dutiful attentiveness only a child soldier could possibly focus upon their weapon. Clad in her ubiquitous and ominous black Darksabre Powered Assault Armour the Death Trooper contently sits upon the station’s floor with weapon perched across knees inspecting it closely. In the highest reach of spinal cord reaching within Kyli’s skull a benign albeit unpleasant tick zaps nervous system irritating the avatar of Death, one of the many side effects of DT-6767’s augmentations she had perhaps moreso than others struggled with the bestial demon that dwelt deep in the most violent caverns of consciousness.

Rexus puts a question to Kyli prompting the First Sergeant to answer drly. “What?” She asks raising a glass filled with a flavoured milk bottomed out with ice cream, pursing the straw between lips and swiftly consuming the contents followed by a satisfied ‘Ah’ the Death Trooper sets down the Milkshake before proceeding to make one final inspection of her G-12A Blaster Rifle and stuff the oily cleaning rag away in a pouch attached to power armour. Kyli listens to Rexus without looking in his direction at first although as he starts complaining about Officers those almond-shaped Hazel orbs find the weathered man’s visage locking it in their gaze. “You could always retire and join the Security Bureau, like Andy.” Kyli’s witless responses are typical of her, born and raised within the Stormtrooper Corps the woman served with pride to be a mere weapon within the First Order’s vast arsenal.

Rexus locked eyes with Kyli and she searches his intent with care, attempting to wordlessly divine any seditious thoughts before turning eyes away the realisation of her own pathetic existence as nothing more than a tool hitting heart with a voracious force albeit it is fleeting. “I’ve never put much thought into anything but service. Rexus, can I ask you a question?” Kyli’s left-hand beats anxiously at the dome of helmet resting atop floor against her waist. “The two of you both have families, what’s it like having parents? Did I miss out on anything valuable there, never known mine.” The woman’s tone took a downward inflexion that carries a hint of audible sadness. Kyli rather irritatingly slurps shamelessly in a loud dirge upon the milkshake’s straw, bits and chunks of icecream drawn up through the plastic canal.

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Underground en route to the Ruins
Objective: Investigate signs of a Force Artifact, Claim it in the name of the Supreme Leader
Allies: First Order, [member="Samka Derith"]
Enemies: New Republic [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Equipment: Raiment of the Vigilant, Vader's Bane Lightsaber, Kyrel's Harbinger Saberstaff

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https://youtu.be/w9PXLTLuuSE​

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It had been some time since Kyrel had traveled to Sullust, the last time he had been on the volcanic world was to investigate Jedi ruins, ones that had belonged to the Jedi Watchmen and the Sentinels of the Order. To which Kyrel found in the form of one of the Jedi, capturing her but escaped shortly after. Now he had come to the hellish world with the Overlord known as Decitus. Some time had passed since their discussion on Mustafar. Questions going through the Master of Ren's mind as he wondered if she considered him a student at this point or a partner, he was not certain but had stuck through her side when she had returned to the Ren.

Now walking through the Underground caverns, covered in his Raiment of the Vigilant, his lightsabers, Vader's Bane, and his Harbinger stuck to his back, hooded robes were around the armor to provide for a more stealthy approach to the way he was traveling to the Ruins. All around them it was dark, patches of light could be barely seen from cracks through the surface, he had to rely on his HUD's Night vision to see straight. No doubt as soon as they reached the ruins there would be more light, but he couldn't say what they would find. Kyrel had not traveled underground through Sullust. He had only been on the Surface, and that reminded him of no better than Mustafar.

Yet, as they kept walking, the man always beside the young woman not to lose any sight of her. Embracing the dark aura that she had around her, as he even felt the artifact. Already from such a distance, it's power called to him, and would soon be in the hands of the Supreme Leader. Stepping slowly foot in front of the other, he had wondered if it would be that easy just to claim artifact and walk away so easily. Then again if the Jedi knew of such an artifact would they be so bold as to attack the First Order... He had hoped they would, just so he could destroy them. His bloodlust against the Jedi Order still prevalent having long hopes of destroying them when he could get the chance.

Feeling the artifact's power call to him with every step he took. He took delight in what it could do for the Supreme Leader, how he would be pleased with such a find. He had hoped the Ren would be greatly rewarded for finding such an artifact, but to see Sieger pleased was reward enough for now. Looking over to Decitus he could barely contain his excitement in his tone the more they walked. "It's close Decitus, can't you feel it? Soon it will be in the hands of the Supreme Leader."


Little did he know that the mission wouldn't be as easy and that unknowingly Kyrel would soon gain his wish to face the Jedi, how will they appear and how many will arrive to claim the artifact, he did not know. All that was known is that the battle between dark and light would ignite once more ironically on the old capital of the now fallen Galactic Alliance.

 

[Abigail Meredydd]

Allies: The New Republic
Enemies: The First Order, [member="Kyrel Ren"]


Sullust...
Yet another planet Abigail would be visiting for the first time in her life- and for all the wrong reasons. Yet another planet merely playing the role of a warzone. At least Sullust already looked like one naturally, with its dark surface and the lava everywhere.

Abigail moved slowly through the underground. Completely dressed in black armour and a helmet with a few red stripes, she made her way towards the old ruins. The brown robes she wore on top of her armour concealed her a little bit more, although there wasn't much need of it. The robes wouldn't be helping her during a fight and neither would they help her breathe the toxic air this planet offered.

It told her she was close, yet it didn't allow her to feel it herself. Abigail didn't attempt to reach out to the Force either, as she was wary of artifacts calling out to others. Yet even through her attempts to shut it out, she could still feel the power linger through the underground, and the call it produced. She was getting closer.

The helmet she wore provided her with the vision she needed, as the passageways she used were plunged in utter darkness. From under her hood and from beneath her helmet, Abigail observed the space in front of her as she kept on moving, getting closer and closer to the ruins and the artifact she was supposed to retrieve. She found herself to be relying more on her vision provided by the Force than her own vision, though, as it had started to become much more natural to her over the last few months.

She wasn't looking forward to whatever would be waiting for her. Would it just be a harmless artifact, ready to be taken by the Jedi? She doubted it. With a little bit of bad luck, a war would be fought on this planet today, and Abigail knew part of that war would be taking place in the very ruins she was traveling towards.

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: Underground en route to the Ruins​

Objective: Investigate signs of a Force Artefact, Claim it in the name of the Supreme Leader progress​

Allies: The First Order, [member="Kyrel Ren"]​

Enemies: The New Republic, [member="Coren Starchaser"] , [member="Abigail Meredydd"]​

Samka had never visited the former Galactic Alliance capital before. She still wished that she hadn't. It certainly didn't offer anything worth seeing.

It seemed in her absence, the First Order's occupation of the world was underway. Check points and military patrols covered both the over and under ground areas. Military presence was heavy if somewhat stretched. The locals for the most part seemed compliant with the new regime but Samka was increasingly sceptical of overly optimistic reports by officers keen to look impressive to their superiors. The likelihood of 'hidden' resistance cells on a planet which had once been the seat of Alliance power was high. The poor fools that the Sullustans were... Believing the lies told to them by the Alliance and paying a dear price for it.

Speaking of the poor fools in question, they had made rather excellent guides!

The Sullustans in their ranks shuffled around in half comatose marches. Guerrilla fighters, former Alliance personnel who were unrepentant in their support for the former regime, that sort of lot. These were the kind who would probably never reintegrate productively into true civilisation. She'd taken them beforehand, not trusting the underground depths of Sullust otherwise, and stripped them of much of their minds. The process was... unpleasant but worthwhile. It minimised the risks of traps of getting lost in a place like this while they tracked... whatever this was.

"It's close Decitus, can't you feel it? Soon it will be in the hands of the Supreme Leader."

"Hrm," was her only response to Kyrel's excitable yammering. Yes she could 'feel it' but the question remained what 'it' was. She didn't like to be in the dark. Literally and metaphorically. Literally speaking because she had to wear the night vision masks. Oh how she hated to hide her pretty face from the world. It was her greatest gift to it after all.

She marched onwards through the underground with a typically jovial prance in her step, even if she didn't feel particularly happy on the inside these behaviours came naturally to her now. She followed close to the near zombified Sullustans who guided herself, Kyrel and the other Ren further into the underground depths thinking of Kyrel's statement further as they moved.

In the hands of the Supreme Leader?

Maybe. If she didn't think she could put it to better use.

 

[Natasi Fortan]

Allies: [member="Ryker Atreides"] | [member="Siegmund Greyhelm"] | The First Order
Enemies: The New Republic
Objective: Protect supply convoys

Smoke poured from the Captain's nostrils as he stubbed out the last of his cigarette in the small ashtray on the coffee table in the officer's mess. "I'm thinking of it as a training exercise," Pierce told the duty officer across the table from him. The other man was a naval officer who had stopped to inquire as to Pierce's assignment. "There shouldn't be a lot of trouble, God willing." He tucked his cigarette packet into his back pocket and stood up.

"Sounds like a blue milk run," the other officer commented with a smirk.

Pierce ran a finger across his eyebrow and looked coolly at him. "Can you not?"

"Not... what?"

Pierce picked up his coffee cup and took it to the sink, setting it down with slightly more force than necessary, causing a heavy thunk. "Blue milk run. It's a cursed phrase. In almost any situation where it is deployed, no matter how simple or straightforward the scenario appears, things go completely wrong. So -- just so you know -- if things go wrong I'm going to come back and find you and break your nose. Prepare yourself." He inclined his head and took a deep breath before glancing at his wristwatch. "Right, I'd better get dressed." He touched his comlink and raised it to his lips. "Control, please page Devil Flight to the ready room." He lowered his comlink. "I was serious about breaking your nose, by the way."

"You could always just not muck it up," the other officer called after Pierce with a chuckle.

"Piss off," Pierce returned over his shoulder. He jogged along the Taskmaster's corridors until he entered the hangar and then the ready room off it. Immediately he kicked off his boots and shucked his trousers, his officer's jacket, and shirt. He folded the uniform and stored it on the lower shelf of his locker, then took his flight suit off the hook inside and worked his feet into the legs. He had pulled it halfway up his legs when he noticed that the flight fitting quite snugly. He shrugged his arms into the sleeve and pulled the zipper up. It wouldn't go all the way. "What the..." Pierce pulled his arms out of the sleeves and twisted it so he could see that his name was, in fact, embroidered on the chest of the flight suit.

"Have I put on weight?" he whispered to himself, taking his flight suit down. He yanked his legs out of it and frowned thoughtfully as he sat on the metal bench running between the two rows of lockers. It was like this that his teammates would find him, sitting hunched over on the bench, examining the flight suit in his knickers, having a very minor existential crisis about his weight.

 

[Dominic Craig]

Location: Imperial Detetention Facility Drilling. West Wing
Objective: Meet the Hunter
Allies: [member="Koda Fett"]
Enemies: None Yet.

Dominic Craig stopped to admire his handiwork. Crouched next to the table where the ‘interview’ started, the FOSB Special Agent looked down at the quivering mess which was Corporal Daiu Grubb. The young man who was curled up, crying on the other side of the room, red smearing his prison jumpsuit. Dominic wiped some of the Sullustians thick, clotting blood from his face, and stood up. “Please!” The Corporal screamed, “Please! No more!” The Agent approached, and Grubb curled further into fetal position, “I swear to the Force I don’t know anything else!” He cried, “Please, please no more!”

Craig cackled with a manic grin now plastering his features. The predator had seen to his objective, and now turned his back on the prisoner, accessing the intercom, “Alright, we’re done here.” The door to the darkened room opened, exposing a sharp, piercing ray of light. Two stormtroopers, attired in sinister black, rather than the usual shined white entered, and approached the prisoner. “Take him to the medical bay, and make sure he gets back to gen pop, stat.” Craig barked. It was only now, he got a good look at the diminutive Sullustian in the light. His face had been beaten pretty well by Dominic’s durasteel capped boots. He’d live, but it was sure to leave scars, the psychological ones being the ones which the Agent hoped would never leave. Dominic picked up his discarded mallet, on the way out before locking the door. Upon looking outside, he cursed, “Shabb.”

Standing opposite the interrogation room was the current bane of Agent Craig’s existence. General Jav Kurz. The elder man, with bushy grey moustache, and clean army uniform scowled at the Special Agent. The two hadn’t gotten along at all, since the FOSB had taken control of IDF Drilling’s West Wing. For the most part, Dominic and the compliment of FOSB stormtroopers operated independently of the prison, but increasingly the General And his command staff were recalcitrant about the FOSB's intrusion, and had taken it on themselves to try and impugn a more traditional sense of law and order on the intelligence agency.

For the time being, Craig ignored him, and walked straight toward a basin. “Special Agent.” Kurz aggressively began, his posture tall, and erect as a regimented soldier. “This is the third prisoner you’ve brutalised in as many days.” The general aggressively snapped, “Need I remind you that this is a penitentiary, not one of your Bureau black sites.” Craig turned on the faucet, and ran some cool water through his hands, letting the blood of Corporal Grubb wash down the drain, before dipping his own head under the water, his eyes closed. He made a sharp, exasperated exhale, denoting his displeasure with this encounter.

“This may be your prison, sure General.” The FOSB man pointedly informed Kurz, “But this, is my operation.” He added, gesturing to another squad of black stormtroopers who sat on guard nearby. “And those are my men, and while I am here,” He stood tall now, and ran a hand through his soaked, blonde hair, styling it neatly, while he fronted the General, “I will operate as I see fit for the sake of national security, and under the jurisdiction of my orders.” He added, glaring at the army veteran.

Kurz scowled, “By what?” He barked, “Torturing prisoners?!” He growled, his voice hiding none of the venom or bile, hatred burned with his derisive stare. “Corporal Grubb was assessed upon internment, any intelligence he held was either out of date, or simply unusable.” The General thundered, “Same with Privates Jun and Kirov.” Craig turned away from the General, but the older man stormed in front of his path, continuing the confrontation. “I’m not about to have POW’s tortured for no goddamn reason under my watch, so you better give me one now.”

The Special Agent stood a good three inches above the General, and rolled his eyes in contempt, before reaching inside his breast pocket. He exposed a cigar, and added a lighter to his grip. “Politics.” The Agent mused with a smirk. The General was taken aback, showing his hand, and so, Dominic continued. “I want to break these men,” he continued, lighting the roll, “And by proxy, break our VIPs.” He was of course referring to the so called “Big Three”. The First Orders greatest captures from the taking of Sullust, and the collapse of the Galactic Alliance. Rear Admiral Percival Grove, Chairwoman Dion Scriv and Captain First Class, Luxor Hr’all. All three had proven themselves resistant to the interrogation tactics of the Order.

“And how, Agent, do you intend to do that?” Jav growled, jaw clenched. But there seemed to at least be some genuine curiosity about the question. Almost in spite of the generals tone.

The Agent brushed past the General, and continued down the corridor, “You only need to watch them.” He cryptically informed the General, “Jun, Grubb and Kirov mightn't know much, sure." Craig conceded, "But they associate closely with Captain Hr’all during communal hours.” Craig continued in a casual, conversational tone. “We break the good Captains social circle, then we may be able to pry more information. Crack him, and then the others might come singing about what SIS, and Alliance remnants are up to.” Dominic chuckled, shaking his head, "For a man running this place you should appraise yourself of one the oldest plays in the book."

The General Kurz was still bitter, and defiant of the Special Agent's diagnosis and tactics. His boots clanged against the reinforced quadanium steel plating, as he closely followed the FOSB man. “And if that isn’t the case?” Kurz grizzled moustache twitched, fists balled. “That means, you’ve caused a lot of pain and suffering to honourable combatants.” There seemed to be a genuine hurt, and anguish beneath all that anger. Something which he betrayed.

Dominic laughed, as he took a drag, “Perhaps," He conceded with a drag, "But I’d consider the actions of Ex-GADF and SIS not in the realm of honour.” He was about to push past the General, and retreat to his office, approaching the secure door. "Irregardless of what their combat record may be." he added, turning his head to the warden. But something made him pause. A buzz clicked in his earpiece. Seemed someone wanted to contact him. “Craig here.” Dominic barked, reaching for his earpiece.

A familiar voice greeted him, “Special Agent, we have a visitor.” Lieutenant Lille Hayes, the chief of front gate security informed him, “Some kind of bounty hunter, license number E-11B.” Craig’s eyes lit up, he already knew the name off by heart. It was time to see a real professional at work.

“Buzz him through.” Craig commanded, keeping a professional facade, but he was already grinning. “Let him into the FOSB processing pen, and keep him there. I want to see the catch and it’s hunter, myself.” Brushing past General Kurz one final time, Dominic made a beeline for the closest elevator, he would be damned if he missed this opportunity.

The wait for Dominic Craig was a short one once he entered the elevator. And as soon as the lift stopped, he stepped out. Attired in a neat, sharp and black officers tunic, with shined cap, Craig proceeded to the processing centre. Stormtroopers dresses in FOSB matte black stood around the entrances, eyeing the Mandalorian and his prize cautiously. In a break from traditional scorn often shown to bounty hunters, Dominic approached with a grin on his face, “Mister Fett!” He called out, as he moved closer, his hand outstretched, “Special Agent Dominic Craig, FOSB.” He greeted, entirely ignoring the presence of the prisoner. “I apologise for the pleasantries, but I must say,” Dominic continued, did looking into the T-shapes visor; “I have been an admirer of your work for quite some time.” He clasped his hand, and eagerly shook it. “So I consider it a great pleasure to be seeing you here, and to be working with you.”

Now his demeanour changed, and he looked over the bounty. A sturdy humanoid figure, attired in a ruined business suit. His face was ashen, and unkempt. “Well, well, what have we here?” He now turned away from the bounty hunter, “You know who this guy is?” He inquired, before turning toward the shackled prisoner, “Because I think I’ll enjoy finding out.” He added with a cackle, “Take him into processing, and cross check the archives.” Craig coldly demanded, before returning his attentions to the infamous bounty hunter, “You want some Caff or something while we figure out how much this asswipe’s worth?”

 

[Toreka]

Allies: New Republic, [member="Abigail Meredydd"]
Enemies: First Order, [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Samka Derith"]
Objective: Answer the call



After several months of meditation, dreaming, and gardening, Toreka felt the call of an artifact as if they were tremors beneath her feet. She took up her lightsaber and prepared to fulfill her duty as a Jedi, even if it was asked of nobody. There would be others present in the darkness of the underground ruins, but she had lived in the dark for the vast majority of her life. She couldn't have been more prepared.

In the near pitch black depths of Sullust, she skulked on her lonesome without issue, feeling the artifact's call grow closer. Something somewhere was making noise, but it was so distant that even she was unable to discern what it was. Voices, perhaps, but who they belonged to was unclear.

Memories of the pit would always be with her, but they were especially prominent within the confines of the deep dark. Beasts would lurk all around, masking their presence or becoming fodder for better beasts. Never knowing that there was a world outside of the abyss, she herself would become the better beast on numerous occasions, killing and eating whatever she could to satisfy the all-encompassing hunger. Her stomach remembered it well, and despite coming after a full meal, she could still feel the emptiness inside her, phantom pains from another time.

She would always hold that presence of mind, no matter how much meditation or socializing she could afford. She would always be the better beast if the situation called for it, and she would always feed herself no matter what the lesser beast called itself.

The presence of the artifact grew heavier, but she could feel something nearby through her feet. Steps, and steady ones at that. There was someone close... more than one. She gripped her talons around the long hilt of her saber, controlling her breathing and becoming practically no more than a ghost, a presence nearly undetectable. Whoever these footsteps belonged to, she could only hope that they were that of Jedi.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Location: Underground​

Allies: [member="Mishel Kryze"], Alliance Loyalists, New Republic, unless the Senate starts talking​

Enemies: People who will use the artifact wrong, and [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Samka Derith"]​

​

​

He was serving the Jedi. And that meant working with all the Jedi Order. While Starchaser was hopping between missions, he kept his ears open for calls of need from the New Republic Jedi Order. And this one? It was a call to head to Sullust. A world he never wanted to leave, and voted against in whatever way he could have when the Alliance’s Supreme Commander and Chief of State voted to move his nation to Coruscant, and then the orchestrated assault and destruction by the Sith. Something Coren was never going to let happen again.

Having worked with Alliance loyalists, and some pretty crafty piloting. Coren and [member="Mishel Kryze"] arrived on Sullust in a similar fashion to other Jedi. And he knew there were stories below the surface, things that his former partner’s own Master made mention of. Something in the Force, strong, and calling out to all who would answer. He was going to have to race against time. If certain Jedi collected it for the wrong hands? Say, the ‘Grand Historian’ and it proved useful for the fight against the tide of darkness? Then it would be lost.

Still, the Jedi in the New Republic could be useful, they could help slow the Ren. “Stick close. You trained here, you should remember the pitfalls of being underground here.” His armor was the bare essentials for a Jedi General, gray and emblazoned with the seal of the Alliance in Exile. Gray and black robes of the Jedi filled in the gaps. The hilt of his telescope pike in hand, knowing blasters weren’t much use, the instinctive astrogator was doing what he could to help himself and his student navigate the depths of this world.

“We need to make sure we beat the darkness to this artifact.”

 

[Luther Lewis]

Location: Supply Train #646, Car No. 3
Objective: Perform Regular Checks for Terrorist Activity.
Allies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | Dergan Twigg (x)
Enemies: [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Nunak"]
Equipment: Charric Pistol, Stun Baton.

​

‘I should care’ he thought, staring out the window of the train’s cockpit. Lighting in the head carriage was poor, and the shadows cast darkness over half of his face. The only other source was on the other side of the glass, the strong beams of the train’s headlights were so bright that some more light spilled in to light the face of Sullustan driver.

‘I should care about these people, what they have suffered through. What hardships they face’. The thought was like a low buzz in the back of his brain, pervading through his subconscious. The driver had become nervous when the questions had stopped, but that was all part of the routine. He had to make them sweat, to try and elicit a reaction.

‘I should care…’ the thought. ‘But I don’t’. He didn’t care about much anymore, except perhaps doing his job. He stared at the driver, then out at the dull rock of Sullust. He willed himself to feel…something. ‘You hated the Alliance’ the words came unbidden, a counterpoint. ‘Sullust is broken, you have your revenge…’

“It’s such an empty feeling” Luther muttered. The driver snapped up, looking away from the control momentarily. “I’m sorry sir?” she said, her tone hesitant. “Nothing, I think we’re done here” Luther said, trying to shake off a sudden melancholy. “I’ll just check the passenger manifest and be out of your hair”.

The driver was a dead end, as he knew it would be, but he had to check all avenues. He had two options, either let her go or drag her into a white tiled room in IDF Drilling. Fortunately for her, he didn’t feel inclined to fill out more paperwork. The passenger manifest was wedged into a plastic sleeve on the eastern wall. Flipping through, Luther glanced at the names for anything suspicious.

There was nothing, of course. None of the wanted men were stupid enough to use their names but, at end of the day, it was another thing for Luther to tick off on his report. He thumbed through the pages until he reached the First Order personnel. He felt something akin to a mixture of sickness and nostalgia as he read the names halfway down the page. “Rexus, Kyli, Twigg” he muttered. The closest thing he had to friends in a long time. Guilt started creeping in, and he was no longer devoid of emotion. Instead a volatile mix of feelings, both good and bad, racked his mind.

He had not parted with them on good terms. He had known his departure would be messy, so he’d left as quietly as he could. Taken leave to visit his homeworld, Belsavis, and never came back to the Death troopers. Instead, he’d gone back under the knife, and tried to regain as much humanity as he could.

*****​

​

His legs were still stiff, but he was thankful just to be able to walk without a cane. This carriage was mostly empty, due to its proximity to the guard carriage. Luther walked slowly across the metal floor, before stopping before the door to Car No. 3. He reached out towards the doorknob, hesitating before pulling the door firmly open.

He strolled into the car, glancing at each of them before opening his mouth. “Greetings, ALPHA…”

 

[Chekīta Kaie]

Ally Peps: Prison Breakers
Objective: Raid Prison
Post: 1
Equipment: Weapon-Armor-ARGH-

War was a forever changing stage, one second you would be hitting the ground hard in heat, having to use all sort of trick to get past enemy fire, pushing with grit and shear determination to just get a foot hold on what ever world you were attacking. Then you have instances like this, were trickery was used to get you on ground, silent and stealthily but with less gear and next to no back up. Still, though it all one thing remained the same, it was dangerous, very dangerous, the type of thing Chekita loved.

The trip to the surface was like all the others under the radar while that fake pirate fleet got their main attention, her little ride having dropped the Mandaloiran near the supposed prison. A full of people that didn't agree with the First Order wonderful proposition for the plant, people that the NR could use. For what purpose? she didn't know, nor did she care, only that a break in and escort job was her ideal mission and will all the force users at some ruined temple she was more or less left to deal with regular fighters.

Checking though her equipment one last time Cekita started to trek towards the designated meeting point for those attacking the complex, more then eager to get things underway.

(Decided to change objectives)

 

[Mishel Kryze]

Sullust​

---

---

---

​

---

Location: Underground​

Objective: Artifact / Ruins​

Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | Alliance Loyalists,​

Alliance-in-Exile / Shattered Order, New Republic​

Opponents: [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Kyrel Ren"] | First Order,​

Knights of Ren / Praetorian Guard, Darksiders​

​

​

​

Mishel hadn't been too far when her Master Coren Starchaser called, thankfully the Princess Leia had just finished her upgrade. Master Starchaser informed the padawan that she was to head to Sullust as soon as possible. It was one of the first places she trained on and so with haste, she made her way across the stars to Sullust. She remembered how hesitant some of Alliance-types were then, especially after Dagobah when the only training she had was from Ember who Force bless him wasn't the right Master for her. The Tygaran grew from there both as a person and in the Force. Leaving the darkness behind in exchange for the light, training in the ways of the Jedi Sentinel.

The information that Master Starchaser gave her left little to the imagination. Mishel knew they had to get to the artifact first, and that they could not afford to lose it to the darkness today. She followed after Starchaser, having disembarked from the Princess Leia. Mishel stopped only for [member="Marakai Al'Orren"], "you go ahead, this is your fight. I'll stay here Lav and C7, keep watch over the Princess Leia. Just let me know when you need an extraction, either of you." A pointed finger toward one then the other before the Half-Felcatian turned and walked back up the ramp. This left the Tygaran with Coren, and with Mara's words, this is your fight. The brunette turned her attention toward the Old Man and closed the distance between them.

Much like her Master, Mishel bore the basics and for her this meant a lighter variant of what Coren wore. The colors were the same, gray and black with the Aliance in Exile seal emblazoned on the left breast. Her lightsabers were the standard yellow blade of a Sentinel coupled with a shoto, a gift from [member="Romi Jade"] before her fall to the dark side. She nodded in acknowledgement and recalled the days of training, where she adapted what she had learned from her past and molded it into the New Jedi Order of the Alliance. There were still some old habits that she couldn't shake but the hope was that they would be useful on this day. Mishel stood beside Coren, as either of the lightsabers on her hip shifted slightly with her movement. "Agreed," she replied with a firm tone, "and on that note, Master. We should head out, time is of the essence."

 

[Nunak]

Location: Supply Train
Objective: Get on the train and eliminate any security forces before the train arrives.
Allies: [member="The Wayfarer"] | NR/AiE Commandos
Enemies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | Dergan Twigg

The Corporal and the Captain both dropped into the cart, luckily empty and filled with nothing more than marked cargo. Taking the saber from the captain, the blade seemingly still extended and having no noticeable button to deactivate it, he merely called to Oda with a simple grunt, holding it out carefully for him to receive.

The Cathar quickly removed his breath mask and clipped it to his belt, drawing out a pack of cigarras and a match he had smuggled with him onto this mission, taking a moment to light it. This was his weakness, a lung addling vice which cooled the nerves. "Best get to it," he said more to himself than anyone else.

Nunak felt naked without his blade and armor, clothed instead with simple civilian clothes and a beanie. A wayward blaster was just as likely to kill this corporal among specialists as a bludgeon to the head. His blade, while ceremonial, had great sentimental value to the humanoid and to be without such an object left a hole in his pride.

SIS intel had suggested this to be a military shipment, additional weapons to supply the Garrison and any other military presence the First Order had upon the former capital of the Alliance. Cracking into the first crate he could find the Corporal removed two small standard issue First Order blasters, tossing one to the captain. If only they had the time to steal any armor.

"Foxtrot. We've secured our cart." Came a call over the comlink, followed by confirmation from the other teams.

"Delta, all clear."

"Echo, secured. We lost Carter on the way in."

One casualty, lucky.

Weapon in hand he did as the briefing stated and advanced towards the entrance into the next, secured cart to join up with the next group of three taking three hasty puffs from the cigarra before trading it out for the breath mask once more. "Uniform. We're on our way."

 

[Natasi Fortan]

https://youtu.be/t8lXvOYg-6k​

​

Dosuun​

The Past​

​

Natasi had received the priority signal from Director Shepard while on her morning ride, and at first, had not believed that it could be true. She was bringing President [member="Jaius Sovv"] -- now Vice-Chancellor Sovv of the New Republic, she reminded herself -- to Dosuun for a tete-a-tete with Natasi. This following Sybil's attending a summit to which the First Order had not been invited and to which the Foreign Office had, at Natasi's instruction, declined to send a delegation. The Security Bureau had, from her understanding, attended for intelligence purposes. Somehow, Sybil had encountered Sovv and would be bringing him to her -- in what condition, Natasi couldn't be sure.

The Grand Moff had mixed feelings about Sovv. They should have been mortal enemies, given his role in the vanquished Galactic Alliance, but the Galidraani in Natasi wouldn't allow it. She had to admire the quiet dignity with which he conducted himself, and his actions in taking responsibility for the actions of his government at Kuragin Station had won her respect and even esteem. The time they spent together during the war -- mostly here, but aboard Concordia and other places as well -- had given her insight into his character. His good grace and good humor had endeared Sovv to her, and though it would have been impolitic to say so, she felt a certain tenderness towards the aged alien. It was likely for naught; after he had escaped at the hands of the treacherous cabinet minister Clémence Wallace, she had never expected to see him again. The First Order had won that war, and the dregs of the Alliance had gone to ground, making noises at Skor II but otherwise behaving. She had heard nothing from Sovv.

In any event, she was almost certain that he viewed her as merely a captor who had, perhaps, been less malevolent than she could have been, if not a totalitarian monster. Perhaps the insights had been a one-way street, and their quiet conversations and exchanges of deep conversation had been his attempt to sway her towards leniency; she'd never be totally sure. Still, she found herself looking forward to seeing him again. All of this was a consideration as Natasi rode her horse back to the stable on the grounds of Herevan Place, the Grand Moff's official country residence. Once inside, she informed Hendersmith that there would be three for luncheon in the formal dining room, then went to bathe before working through the morning as she awaited the arrival of Director Shepard and the Vice-Chancellor.

Dosuun​

Present Day​

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Number 10 was quiet; it was ten o'clock, so the civil servants had long since left for the day. Natasi had finished her work some time ago and had spoken to the children by video conference as well. It was a lonely hour; she had nothing left to work on for the day, but it was too early to turn in for bed, so she settled into her private study with a gin and tonic and flipped on the news. Lydia Finn-Camden was hocking a new special from Sullust. Natasi watched for a few moments until it went to commercial, then she muted the display and touched her datapad, keying in a command to ping [member="The Major"] for a status update.

She was worried about Sovv returning to Sullust -- he was older now, and he seemed frail the last time they spoke. It might not be safe, even if he didn't mean to stir up trouble. And somehow, Natasi was not convinced that his intentions were entirely aboveboard this time. As honorable as he was, Sullust was his homeworld. If she felt that Galidraan were threatened, would Natasi stand idly by? Even now, she couldn't say for sure just what she would or could do.

The Grand Moff frowned at the news display and unmuted the sound, waiting for a report from Sybil Shepard as she nursed her cocktail.

[member="The Major"] | [member="Jaius Sovv"]​

 

[The Wayfarer]

Location: Supply Train
Objective: Get on the train and eliminate any security forces before the train arrives.
Allies: [member="Nunak"] | NR/AiE Commandos
Enemies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | @Kyli DT-6767 | @Luther Ando | Dergan Twigg

Oda accepted the sword as the corporal entered his car. It lit the current room with a volatile blue light and Oda spied crates scattered throughout the place. He popped one open and was immediately surprised when he found a rotary cannon. The captain handed Nunak back the pistol and hefted the rotary cannon high.

"I'll take that," He said in his grizzled no nonsense voice, which spoke of many years of smoking.

The Wayfarer imagined he ate cigarras for breakfast and washed them down with engine oil... Oda almost gagged when between the Captain and Nunak the car began to fill with smoke. He hurriedly moved onto the next car. It was a vacant tram and The Wayfarer made note of the hurling wind as he stepped out into the open air, his red robes swaying violently behind him. Carefully he and the five commandos paced forward. The other's were to secure the train in a similar fashion. Moving forward and clearing out each car as they did so. He had utmost confidence in his men and was surprised by the First Order's lack of response.

He held his saber in both hands, switching stances to a more relaxed one. The train surely had sensors, cameras, some sort of security measure that should've let them know of the interlopers by now. But, all save for the howling wind remained calm. No blaster bolts were exchanged and no men screamed for their medic. It was truly the eye of the monsoon and while Oda was a master of meditation, he found it somewhat disturbing. He opened the door to the next car and made his way forward.

The Wayfarer smiled as he saw that more of the crates had been cracked open and the weapons within commandeered. He knew this meant his men were arming themselves with the First orders own weapons. Oda was pleasantly surprised when he found tactical vest within one of the crates and he pointed to it with sword. The commandos began to throw them over each other, clipping straps for one another and securing harnesses. They might not offer tons of protection, but at least it would afford them some. He sighed as he heard the first and second team over the comms.

"Sir there's voices coming from the car ahead, orders?"

The Wayfarer waited tentatively as he eyed the captain with curiosity in his eyes. He too wondered how this man would handle the situation. When Oda reached out in the force he felt a strange calm on the man, as if he had done this countless times and knew what to expect. It comforted Oda's frayed nerves.

"Breach and secure. You are clear to engage,"

The man spoke and almost simultaneously team one and two prepared a small det pack to be placed on the door. The five commandos readied from themselves in the fourth car. Their sergeant detonated the door and they hopped in shortly after. Blasters firing and screaming their own war cries. "For the Rebellion!"

Now it came... The familiar echos of battle. The sound of blaster bolts tearing through ozone.. It was what Oda had been waiting for and now, he was a rock amidst stormy seas.