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

[Tanomas Graf]

Imperator Tanomas Graf​

Location: A.G. Marius Military Rail Line, Gravtrain 'Tarkin' Passenger Carriage #11​

Equipment: Graf's Uniform | Suppressed Comet OSM-10 Slugthrower Pistol​

Status: Enjoying the Trip​

Allies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | Dergan Twigg​

Enemies: [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Nunak"] | Republic Commandos​

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Breathe.

He blinked a few times and drew in a deep breath, the rattling noise that usually accompanied it oddly absent. an occurrence that still surprised him.

Just breathe.

He exhaled after holding still for several seconds, a small pang of relief spreading throughout his body. He craned his head to look out at Sullust's vast subterranean caverns, every cliff face and jagged edge apparent to him.

Tanomas Graf was fifty-nine years old, yet for the past few weeks, he had felt the best he ever had before. No longer did his bones creak and jitter with every uneasy step, nor did his face and fingers twitch uncontrollably. His mind was no longer clouded, his memories as clear as if they had just happened; his vision had cleared up as well, his cataracts having vanished. He didn't know exactly what had been done to him when he was rolled into the operating room, but the effects were as apparent as the day itself. He raised a hand to squeeze the opposing bicep, the once-flabby extremity now rigid and tough.

The only downside that he had experienced thus far was that his rampant alcoholism was effectively ruined for the rest of his life, the man no longer able to intoxicate himself on his favourite amber liquid, a glass of which sat before him on the tray table. The contents of the snifter jerked back when he grabbed it and brought it up to his lips, downing it in one go and replacing it on the tray. "My most loyal comrade, no longer able to lend me your aid any further," murmured Tanomas, "oh how the mighty have fallen."

Graf wondered how long he would be stuck on this infernal train, he was scheduled for his daily medical checkup at the Auxiliary garrison, and then he'd be due for some government work over in the capital city of Byllurun. Truth be told, he had grown to dislike the planet of Sullust thus far, everything was volcanic but it wasn't the fun, explosive volcanic like Mustafar or Aeten II. Perhaps he could make his way up to where the driver was and see how everything was going, maybe converse with a few people along the way, that sounded like a fun idea. Standing up, he moved for the door to the carriage and accidentally grasped the handle too hard, crushing it slightly in the process.

"Sithspit..." He grumbled, releasing the squashed metal object, glancing at his hand.

He turned around to pour himself another drink, his ears suddenly perked up when he heard the faint sound of an explosion and blasters in the distance. His arm acted before he did, pushing his trench coat aside and pulling the pistol out from the holster beneath it, the man twirling around to point it in the direction of the sounds. Graf flung the door open and scanned the room, stepping in once it was clear and preparing to move forward again.

They had stowaways.

 

[Cynthia Alucard]

Colonel (Wing Commander) Cynthia "Cyn" Alucard
Designation: Pixie Leader
Classification: Fighter Interception Squadron (9)

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Assigned: Taskmaster-class Escort Carrier: FIV Remora​

Allies: [member="Pierce Fortan III"] [member="First Order Officer"] First Order​

Enemies: Rebels, New Republic Force (Unknown) ​

​

Insanity of war, the failure of conflict and finally the lies spread by the ignorance of those in charge, all used for fuel that would dare threaten everyone in the galaxy to an early grave. Here, around Cyn, she faced the cruelest joke of them all, even as her hands grasped the controls of her TIE Interceptor she could not stop her hands from shaking.

Stop, damn it. Stop it all.

Blackness covered her sight and immediately she opened her eyes to find herself standing in front of her new Pixie Pilots. All appeared stead fast and stood tall and silent, Cyn blinked once more before she realized that they were waiting for her next orders. Maybe a post out here would do good to calm the nerves.

"Alert has been notified and your standby orders been given." Cyn explained, possibly once again she couldn't remember correctly, "-Remember we do not jump at the shadows. Space is darkness, and nothing is terrifying as the void of space." She added with a small smirk that tugged the corner of her lips.

Squadron Three were made up of good recruits, and she needed to have a record of being able to properly lead green pilots and include a decent survival rate. Wouldn't hurt my resume, and maybe I'll be able to personally remain in the home sector as an Pilot Instructor. Thoughts of leisure washed through her mind, even as the Pixie Pilots filed out and readied themselves to their star-fighters.

If Cyn had paid closer attention to her Pilots, she would have seen their eager steps and hungry eyes of war and battle. They managed to earn a chance to fly alongside and Ace. They sought glory out in the vastness of space, and prayed for the opportunity to turn their targeting sights onto an enemy star-fighter.

"Commander, question if I may." Pixie Two asked, his eyes stern and ready for any combat mission.

Well, at least he'll be an attentive Wing-Mate. "Yes Pixie Two?" Cyn asked, her left hand gestured for the pilot to continue.

"We understand the vital importance of securing our supply lines of course, it was just that being apart of the Two O'Third, we had expected more 'lively' missions." Pixie Two asked, in a rather careful manner.

Well, at least he's eager. "Show me you all can follow orders, we do not fly for ourselves but for the glory of the First Order after all Lieutenant." Cyn answered, her hands grabbed her flight suit's helmet. "-But enjoy peace whenever you can, it's a future we may not desire but the alternative is something to entirely avoid." Cyn explained, trying to temper the poor pilot's eagerness.

"Ah of course Commander. Nōs habēmus!" Pixie Two saluted with the Pixie's motto.

"Caelum et Stellās." Cyn responded, her helmet now latched and her HUD turned on. Perhaps I can let Command know that I need a few more weeks to continue my Pilot's training. I rather enjoy these peaceful escort missions.

 

[Koda Fett]

LOCATION: IMPERIAL DETENTION FACILITY DRILLING, WEST WING
OBJECTIVE: GET PAID
ALLIES: FIRST ORDER - [member="Dominic Craig"]
ADVERSARIES: NEW REPUBLIC

The Bounty Hunter hadn't been blending into their current scenario, no. He had, instead, been adorned in scratched, scuffed, and scorched Mandalorian Armour that truly varied from the First Order's apparent likening of the darker tones; black, in this instance. But, colours had meant something to the Mandalorian as they might the First Order Stormtroopers. He were no-one to judge. If it hadn't been something related to sight, it might've been the tension that reverberated throughout the room itself as those members of the First Order seemed to give such little trust to the Bounty Hunter. He couldn't blame them, however, as their perception had likely been so twisted and skewed of the pseudo-criminal/lawman; morality and allegiance constantly varied, bending as he would bend an arm of one that concealed required information behind their guarded lips. But, alas, it'd been Koda Fett that brought their sought target to them.

He had stood still, entirely unmoving whilst he clasped the restrained arm of his ensnared quarry as their hands remain bound behind their back. Fett had almost appeared to be a statue in his current state. Koda had managed to crane his neck towards the extended hand, and took a foolish moment to simply stare towards the friendly gesture as the socially stunted by-product of intergalactic conflict that he was. But, eventually, Fett had shifted his gloved hand to reciprocate firmly and silently as those hidden features that rest behind his helmet had still been rather unflinching. It'd never truly been his place among any form of conversation, be it polite or something necessary. He had certainly been more accustomed to the pointing of a finger that accompanied the simple demands of "go" and "do".

But, still, it'd always been somewhat enjoyable to have your ego stroked. Not even Fett could escape his own hubris.

However, it were behind the darkness of that T-Visor that Fett quirked his brow at the mere mention of caff, or other pleasantries. He had come to offload his capture and receive appropriate payment. As such, it should come to no surprise that his immediate response had been, "I'd like to get paid."

 

[Elena Lowe]

-= Leah Kaban =-​

Agent Leah Kaban
Location: FOSB Safehouse, designation "Furie."
Objective: Locate First Order extremist group.
Allies: The First Order
Enemies: N/A

Agent Leah Kaban was bored, and more than a little frustrated. Her chair was too uncomfortable after hours sitting idle, her head ached, a pulsing subtle thrum behind her eyes, her mouth was dry, the moisture having been slowly pulled from her body by the air conditioning unit that hummed in the ceiling room. That was a necessity though, without the AC the dozen-or-so people would turn the room into a nightmare of stifling heat, instead of the everyday nightmare of stifling boredom that it was at that moment.

Most of the people huddled at desks around the room were technicians or radio operators, specially Bureau personnel that dutifully scanned incoming and outgoing radio traffic, and combed through mountains of data, occasionally saving snippets onto oversised holodisks for later perusal. Leah herself sat next to one technician, occasionally taking notes on a datapad, but mostly gazing into space or pacing in the front room. More than a week they had been there, and they'd found only traces of the group they were after.

These guys were smarter than usual, the SIGINT officers had told her, knew how to cover their tracks better than most. Whenever they thought they had them cornered, they seemed a step ahead.

"Who were they, Rebels?" Leah had asked, suddenly drawn into the narrative of an elusive enemy.

"You don't know?" Replied the technician. "They're from within the Order. A rogue element from the South. Guess they didn't much like the way the wind was blowin'."

That meant the Fortan Doctrine. Leah had heard that there were groups fighting the change, especially in the outer edges of the First Order's territory, but she'd never considered that there'd be any of them from the military. Soldiers were raised to be loyal, no matter what. She supposed that the outer territories operated differently. Certainly a planet like Sullust bore no resemblance to somewhere like Bespin or Dosuun.

Finally, 9 days and 15 hours after arriving in the cramped safe house, the team had a eureka moment. An encrypted transmission was intercepted from a housing complex adjacent to Furie's location, which put them within range for a team to move in without having wait for extra equipment or personnel. Lucky too, as the encryption was no match for the Order's cryptolinguistics team, and the decoded message hinted heavily at the group's plans to make an attack on a civilian target on Sullust. Likely this in retaliation to the First Order's decision to decrease their military presence in the outer territories, but, as the mission lead emphasised over and over, their motive didn't matter. This group was a threat the security on Sullust, and had to be stopped.

With the importance of timing weighing heavy on her, Leah rushed to the master bedroom, which had been converted into a sort of armoury and storeroom. Over her civilian clothes she pulled on an armoured vest and an oversised jacket with the red maw on the arm, and 'FOSB' printed on the back. As three other agents entered the room, Leah slung a G-11F over her shoulder and donned a backpack with her other equipment, finishing her setup with by clipping a on a wrist datapad.

Minutes later, everyone was ready to go, and they gathered at the door of the safehouse, Leah wasn't nervous, she wasn't really thinking about the mission in great depth. More than anything else she was just glad to be getting out of that damn safe house.

 

[Lucius Draugh]

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Imperial Detention Facility Drilling; West Wing.​

Objective: Investigate what's going on​

Allies: [member="Dominic Craig"], [member="Koda Fett"]​

Enemies: None.​

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In days past, Graush ran a tight ship. Strict regulations that even made Gundark Gunners shiver in fear of his wrath. But since their new mandate, Graush's influence had left these places like Sullust, presumably focusing on places deeper within the First Order. Planets like Sullust? Below the Supreme Commander's notice, but not far enough away to think his closest assistant needn't do his investigating for him.

A lesson, he calls it. Feth, I hate this planet.

They had left the surface, and his face was covered with a rebreather to filter out the toxic air that made this planet's surface a fiery hellscape. They had gotten underground, but that rebreather hadn't come off until they had made it to their destination; the Detention Facility. At least there he could trust the Imperial facility to have proper filtration.

Pushing a hand through his pale locks, he shook his head free of the rebreather as it came off, handing it off to one of his subordinates. The guards at the entrance were familiarized with his level of importance and waved him through. The towering black garbed stormtroopers that flanked him plastered with his Master's symbol upon their pauldrons. They had an escort, but Lucius offered a kind smile in regards to the offer. "I know where I'm going," and an inclination of his head as he dismissed the army private. His continued existence stemmed from the fact his memory was long, nearly perfect. Logistics routes and galactic maps still filled his mind's processes. Remembering the route to a sector in a detention facility was nothing.

The detention facility was larger than he had previously thought. Sullust's population was immense, he heard on his way to the planet. They were still counting the entirety of the population. Chewing on his inner cheek, he barely noticed the Imperials that got out of his way. As such, he only realized how close they were when he spotted a duo of FOSB stormtroopers passed with an obviously tortured being. Still, he hadn't been shocked out of his reverie until a heavy hand settled onto his shoulder and held him back from going through the guarded checkpoint.

"You're not authorized," rang in his ears as his glazed orbs seemed to focus back in and he leveled his gaze with the hand on his shoulder, nostrils flaring before looking up the bigger soldier. Security Bureau. Behind him, his duo of Graush troopers drew nearer. Through the Force he could feel their animosity growing and casting a glance back over his shoulder, he shook his head. the sound of leather loosening over their blaster grips heard before he turned back.

"Notify your commander that the Defense Ministry is conducting a randomized inspection." Young, his words likely rang hollow, but famous or not, Lucius' Master was still a hero of the Order and his symbol known. Child or no, the legitimacy of his station couldn't be manufactured, not believably anyway. "I'd like to meet with him."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXBVoZ48fRc[/youtube]​

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IDF Drilling​

Day Seven​

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Two Imperial guards tossed Grubb back out into the yard, moaning from his fresh wounds at the hands of [member="Dominic Craig"].

As soon as they withdrew and secured the area, the air raid siren the facility blasted to let the convicts know that anyone who moved would be shot was deactivated, and two fellow Sullustans hurriedly dragged the freshly interrogated prisoner back into the shadows. To even call gen pop a yard was being overgenerous, it was simply a wide open space in the isolated subterranean prison complex with some weights and a few bleachers. For Sullustans it wasn't so bad, but other species tended not to last long at Drilling for lack of sunlight.

The beaten and battered former corporal was carried before a particularly nasty looking human with a large blazing claw tattooed across half of his face. He was bench pressing several hundred kilos of weight, the consternation evident on his face. But when he heard the commotion of their arrival he finished his set off early and sat up, lighting a cigarra. Grubb slumped into the dirt in front of him, and the human grasped him by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together in a show of brotherhood.

"Well, Grubb? What did you see?"

My name is Desmond Darksword, and I'm a special agent of the Republic Strategic Information Service.

"There are collaborators inside," the beaten man managed through broken teeth, "But the Imps are running the show."

My codename is Deacon. I'm an infiltration and observation specialist, but I like to think of myself as versatile.

Grubb choked back a sob, "He didn't even ask me any questions..."

The First Order is holding Caita Xan, former Alliance Chief of State, Sullustan hero, and one of the architects of the One Sith's downfall, somewhere inside this prison.

"You did good, Grubb! Now focus! I need numbers, and I need names. As many as you can remember. Can you draw me a map? Go on, draw me a map."

I'm here to break her and every other soul loyal to the dream of a Galactic Alliance out of here. And I'm not alone.

"Make sure he gets the good stuff," the tattooed man spat from the poor quality cigarra as he gave orders on Grubb's care. As prisoners their medical supplies were of course virtually non-existent, so in lieu of painkillers they'd have to make due with the recreational variety, "I'm taking a walk."

No one pressed him, it wasn't unusual for the man to disappear for hours at a time. He was one of the few humans by comparison incarcerated at Drilling. Although he had only been here a short time, it hadn't taken him long to ascend the unspoken hierarchy of convicts. By no means at the top of the pecking order, but only a week in and he was already running with his own crew. They were mostly Sullustan, ex-military and fiercely loyal. It was a meteoric rise, almost impossible to believe. He was running out of time, they'd be on to him soon if they weren't already.

Counting down the patrol rotation he had memorized on day one in his head, when he was absolutely certain that no one was watching, he slipped into the sliver of surveillance blind spot he had discovered on day four. Prying the stashed comm link from its place wedged behind a loose panel with homebrewed adhesive, Agent Deacon tapped the pre-arranged series of comm bursts that would hopefully signal to [member="Krenis Skirata"] everything was still on schedule.

 

[Progflaw99]

"There has been an awakening. Have you felt it?"​

~ Supreme Leader Snoke​

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Objective: Supervise and carry out Sieger's will to search for relics.​

Allies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Samka Derith"]​

Enemies:[member="Mishel Kryze"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Abigail Meredydd"]​

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A sliver of light illuminated their path through the jagged, rough cut tunnels below the surface of the ashen world. Sullust, once home to the Galactic Alliance but no more. Uneven step after uneven step they traveled deeper into the miasma of the Force. This was to be a simple jaunt, little more than combing through the ruins of a structure and corresponding tunnels below - identified as formerly being occupied by Jedi. It had been a test, not only of Sieger's Knights of Ren but of his Praetorians. They had been elevated to that status and now it was time to prove that they deserved it.

Kyrel Ren, a veteran of the Order. Decitus, Sieger's own pet. Baratos, one of Sieger's chosen. It had been long since Sieger's Order had roamed in such a concentration of power. Much had changed. No longer were there academies secreted away on every world. Their reach had been shrunk, but their power had been consolidated. Able to be wielded more like a dagger than a battleaxe - as was their intent. The Order was to strike deep and fast and precisely, not in swathes across the battlefield. *Dire would be the day...* thought the Praetorian. The matte crimson of his combat armor contrasted with the attire of the other two of their number. A symbol of status as much a battle ready system. Behind the opaque face plate of his helm, Baratos of Ren kept a scowl at bay. Only just.

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

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A minuscule twitch played at the corners of the Praetorian's lips. *Eager, this one.* It was an admirable quality, though it would be one to watch with care. To indulge eagerness was to invite calamity. At Decitus' quiet acknowledgement Baratos failed his efforts to hold back his scowl. With a deep breath he metered his emotions, forcing them back into the veil. This was no time for personal thoughts. Baratos himself, remained silent. They could all feel it - though it's exact nature eluded them. *Not for long.* mused the man. Together the trod onwards, a faint flickering ahead suggesting they were getting closer. As Baratos observed the incline and the walls of the corridor his thoughts were confirmed. Ahead the narrow tunnel opened up wider, the ceiling also beginning to rise.

Above where they now stood, a hundred, several hundred feet, had been a biosphere. It had come crashing down in the last days of the Alliance as the world of Sullust began its fall from grace. The ruins had been combed through with nothing of note having been found. What had not been fully upended were the caverns and corridors below, an evacuation failsafe of sorts. Absentmindedly the Praetorian wondered how many lives had been spared by seeking refuge here. If only the walls could talk, perhaps they would give some insight into what it was, or where 'it' was. Even as the thought began forming his steps came abruptly to a halt. There was something else, like a pin had pricked the tip of his finger. Looking upwards he could almost make out what had once been chunks of the biosphere, wedged into the widened space. If the pieces hadn't fallen now, it was unlikely to happen. That revelation did little to ease his rising concern. Through his vocabulator, Baratos spoke.

"It is here. Perhaps there." Outstretched, his arm rose. Pointing to the angled chunks of biosphere corridors and halls. Some were shattered, bent at odd angles, others miraculously straightened or connecting to other shattered hunks of metal. A latticework of broken corridors and halls suspended only by the fact they were wedged between the walls of the pit. It was a strange sight to behold. It presented several problems for the travelers. They would be more than capable of getting up to the wedged pieces of the cracked sphere but once there - their position would be quite precarious.

As of yet the Praetorian was oblivious of the presence of the New Republic and her allies, however that would soon change. As the two parties grew ever closer, it was only a matter of time before they would encounter one another - what happened after that, who was to say?

 

[Progflaw99]

Objective: 'Blue Milk Run'​

Allies: [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Siegmund Greyhelm"] | The First Order​

Enemies: The New Republic​

:: Priority Alert. Priority Alert. ::

The small comlink resting on the toolbox seemed to shout. From the back of the cockpit a loud thunk followed by a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.

:: Priority Alert. Priority Alert. ::

With another string of curses and a brisk "Shut up, dammit!" the boyish features of Lieutenant Atreides poked up over the edge of the pilot's seat. Reaching over the arm towards the console he snatched the comlink and muted it, briefly scanning its small screen. *Feth.* Hurriedly he gathered his tools, throwing them in the box before climbing the runged ladder out of the cockpit and onto the catwalk. A short jaunt later down several bustling corridors, he arrived at their assigned locker room. Stopping just short, the young pilot caught his breath as he wiped a small spat of grease from his fingers onto the matte of his coveralls.

A moment later the sight of their Flight Leader, Captain Pierce, and his current dilemma threatened to send the Lieutenant into a fit a laughter. It was all he could do to paint a confused look on his face. "Everything alright there, sir? First day back is usually the worst." Ryker said, matter of factly.

 

[Abigail Meredydd]

Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] , [member="Mishel Kryze"]
Enemies: [member="Kyrel Ren"] , [member="Samka Derith"] , [member="Barbatos"]


Abigail moved forward, slowly making her way through the dark and narrow tunnels. The cloaked woman was relying on both the Force and her helmet to give her vision, as she wouldn't have been able to see anything herself in the lightless tunnels.

"A dead end", Abigail then exclaimed as a wall of rubble suddenly came into her vision, blocking her from continuing on. "You let me into a dead end? You... What?"

Abigail had come to a stop now, hastily looking around her for a way to continue on forward. She had been occasionally hearing noises in the distance, but they had always sounded far away, so she hadn't paid them much attention. However, now that she seemed to be stuck and quite possibly had to go back, the noises suddenly became a lot scarier.

"What?", she then muttered, barely audible from under her helmet. As she sought for a way forward through the Force, she also opened up more to the whispers of the artifact, whether she liked it or not. "The rubble... The path continues behind it? You're sure?", she whispered as she pushed against a wall of loose rocks, no doubt the results of a tiny form of a cave in. She knew what it wanted her to do, but that didn't make her like it.

"I'd rather not start breaking the walls. Who knows what it'll do. I'd rather not have this place come down on my head."

Abigail refused, but she also quickly realised she had a mission to complete, and that going back wasn't exactly an option. A by now barely audible screech could be heard echoing through the narrow tunnel Abigail had walked through.

"Ugh... fine", she mumbled as she reached towards her back to grab her spear. "Better hurry up", she said to herself as she rammed her spear between the rocks as she started to try and pry them loose.

Luckily enough, the obstruction hadn't been too big, and Abigail quickly found herself being able to squeeze through, and that even without the whole thing collapsing. She now picked up her pace, to ensure she wouldn't be bested by a possible opponent. She wouldn't want to be late.

Abigail finally noticed the tunnel widened a bit again, and then it abruptly ended as it led into a cavern of sorts.

"By the Force", she mumbled as she could barely make out bits of the biosphere everywhere in the area. Some bits lied scattered on the ground, but entire chunks of hallways and corridors seemed to be suspended in the air, stuck between the walls.

It was right. Admire later, act now. The Force wrapped around her as it became a little more tense, perhaps sensing something it wasn't sharing.

 

[Cuan Kunn]

En Route
Space

It wasn’t going to take long for Cuan to get the call to launch. He and the rest of the volunteers in “Patchwork Squadron.” He had taken the spot with many other Sullustans, as it was a chance to get back t the First Order and make the move home. They moved from wherever they were, met Sentinel Roving Line and the boarded into a pair of FarStars. And then they were off, from the border of Sith Space and the free galaxy towards the First Order and the Alliance’s former capital.

And his own homeworld.

“This is Patch Nine, all systems green. Ready to take the fight.” He said over the comms as he nodded. A deep breath, he was waiting. The two corvettes were making their way forward and he knew it was only a matter of minutes. A soft almost prayer, more of a combat ritual than anything, and the Sullustan checked on his astromech and the weapons systems once more.

“Patchworks, going to be counting us down. We hit real space and you disembark. Take it to the Firsties.” The call came over the comms. The Patchworks were going to be helping fight fighters while Lander was flying a bit different, X-Wings and U-Wings, destined for Sullust surface.

 

[Barr Vexos]

Allies : The New Republic
Enemies: The First Order
Objective: Supply Train
Equipment: New Republic BR-1, VT-Bolt Blaster, Asheran Armorweave, Knife

Barr checked his assault rifle as he and the rest of the fleet he in moves in toward the planet of Sullust. He had to admit, despite the New Republic BR-1 having some flaws, it was still a reliable weapon in battles and objectives like these. When he received his rifle, he took it apart in order to better understand how it functioned. He then put the weapon back together and tested the weapon a few times. It went well with the combat skills that he learned from his father. In fact, Barr would even say that he probably would’ve had like this rifle, probably.

His thoughts on his rifle soon end as the vibrations from the ship landing cause him to focus his attention on the planet. Hearing the orders from his superior officer Barr loaded a clip into the rifle, ready for the battle that is to come. The bay doors open as Barr and his group quickly got out of the ship in firing formation while other groups leave the ship in the same formation. Barr’s group slowly headed deeper onto the planet heading to their destination. The Supply Train

 

[Karlist Rax]

Allies: [member="First Order Officer"] | [member="Pierce Fortan III"] | [member="Ryker Atreides"]'
Enemies: [member="Cuan Kunn"]
Objective: Follow the leader.
Location: FIV Hussar

From aboard the command deck of the FIV Hussar, Captain Karlist Rax stood, watching the slow crawl of civilian convoys through the glow offered by Sullust. It was an assignment that many captains would have looked down upon. Particularly given the tradition of First Order captains to meteorically rise beneath the panic and bravado of fire. Rausgeber, and Yvarro were held up as a standard of this. But, for Karlist Rax, he saw a dignity in safeguarding logistics. Soldiers needed to be armed and fed, didn't they? And that was where Karlist saw his calling. The supporting officer for the First Order's cause.

The officer watched the viewport, and saw one of the lead vessels peel off course. He squinted, it was a rather curious sight. Turning down to a nearby screen, he leaned in, and watched the trajectory of the vessel as it peeled off. The young lieutenant manning the station looked over at the commanding officer, "Is there something wrong sir?" She inquired drily. The Captain stood tall, and still eyed the screen, and lamented it. Perhaps Raji had her reasons, but it nonetheless spooked the Captain.

"We'll see." Karlist lamented coolly, before turning his attentions across the room to the Signals Officer, "Ensign, get me a signal to the Remora." He commanded, "I want to ask what's going on out there, and if we should reposition ourselves." The captain inquired. The Signals Officer did note this, and raised a thumbs up, sending his regards. Satisfied, Karlist moved to the commanders chair, situated on a raised platform in the command room, and nestled himself. Now he would see what was going on.

Spoiler

FIV Hussar, Chasseur-Class Corvette (X)
FIV Chaser, Uhlan-Class Corvette (X)
FIV Avalon, Uhlan-Class Corvette
FIV Gauntlet, Blade-Class Corvette (X)
FIV Sabre, Blade-Class Corvette

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Allies: [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | Dergan Twigg
Enemies: [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Nunak"]
Location: Car No.3, Supply Train
Objective: Reunion
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 chuckled as he took a drag from his cigar, "Wrong person to be asking Kyli." He offered with a small grin, before shaking his head. His expression became tense, and taut. He lamented his mother, and then looked to Twigg, who'd stopped gnawing on the bone, to look at his CO. "My Mum was a spicewhore." He told her, "Wasn't a great parent, by any stretch." he conceded, "And my Dad was some John who paid extra one night. Never knew him." He slid the cigar in his mouth, and let a moment of silence reverberate, "Now if you want to talk family," he pointed over to Twigg, "Our boy has what? Six, seven siblings." The sound of a door unsealing unsettled Rexus, and he turned, only to see a face of the past. "Son of a-!"

"Luther!" A baritone voice bellowed. In but an instant, the gargantuan, nearly nine foot tall monster that was Dergan Twigg had encapsulated the neatly dressed figure in his arms. "Luther!" Twigg called out again, crushing him against his chest plate, beneath his massive arms, "I missed you lad!" Twigg told him, his voice filled with the childlike joy most were accustomed to when dealing with the giant. Rexus sneered at Luther, a festering well of emotions bubbling in his chest. Anger. Betrayal. Loss.

"You prick!" Rexus bellowed, storming toward the two men, "You karking traitor!" Rexus bellowed, his voice hoarse, rough, and strained with emotion. "You karkin' traitorous scum!" He raised a pointed finger at Luther, "You betrayed us!" He then glared at Twigg, who in turn tightened his grip, and move Luther away. "He betrayed all of us!" Rexus screamed. A dark silence came over the Death Trooper, who scowled bitterly. "We were brothers Luther, brothers in arms, and you, you did this to us." His voice softened, his jaw quivering, "We were a team, and you left us here to rot." Rexus glared at him, fists clenched. Twigg now dropped the ex-squad mate, to which Rexus spat at. "Scum." He glowered angrily, returning to his crate, where he began performing checks on his helm.

Twigg reached for a nearby rag, and roughly scrubbed Luther's face. "Sorry 'bout 'at." Twigg mused his face had fallen flat after his best friend's outburst. "It's just..." He looked over at Rexus and then at the smartly attired FOSB man. "He doesn't take stuff like what you did...well." He dropped the rag, and looked over him. "You look good though." he added with a forced grin. "Better 'an the rest of us." He then paused, and looked around, "Do you 'ear 'em?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper, "'Cos sometimes I 'ear-"

"Shush!" Rexus snapped, raising his clenched fist. His helm was on, now on, sealing away the familiar, rugged features of his face. Twigg looked at Rexus and cocked his head, and Rexus' head twitched. "Charges..." he breathed out, before looking at Luther, "Get down!" Twigg shielded Luther in front of him, and crouched, protecting him. The explosion was met by silence, before a chorus of voices and crazed blaster bolts. There was no resistance for a beat, until the defeaning roar of the G-12A, and a gale of hideous laughter. "You stupid bastards!" Rexus roared, as he began to fire upon the commandos, "I'm gonna tear your karkin' balls off and stuff 'em in my Life Day dinner!"

 

[Krenis Skirata]

@Deacon
Prison-break

Krenis grunted as he pulled himself through the crack in the rock, dragging his kit behind him. Trailing behind him through the crevices in the crust was a small team of eight of his partisan fighters, each pulling the gear they could squeeze through the narrow cracks. None of the heavier equipment, at least, but a few of the smaller machine guns and plastic explosives. Enough to arm the prisoners with to cause a true prison riot and lead to a revolution.

A message dinged on his comlink and he squinted at it. Their man was in position and everything was on schedule. He nodded and dragged himself forward until he could look through the crack. Dirt and grime smeared across his face, coating the black facepaint he had painted across it earlier. He slid the suppressed slugthrower from his back waistband and moved it ahead of his hands.

He clicked back the final message. Infil team in position. Strike on your signal.


He waited until the rest of the team had crawled out from the crack in the rockface and spread out, moving their way slowly down towards the prison. Shadows in the dark. Now all they needed to do was wait for the signal from the prison. Once their man on the inside began the riot, they would move in. Now all they had to do was wait.

The commando crouched down beside the rock, pistol in hand, waiting.

 

[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"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"] | Dergan Twigg

The explosion rocked the train as a large hold was blown where once a secure door stood. In the other cart a large cathar set his boot against a crate before kicking it through the fresh portal to provide sufficient cover under an onslaught of blaster fire from the ever perceptive death trooper. Crouched low Nunak crossed the distance, hiding behind as he gripped the First Order rotary cannon with both hands. "For the Alliance!," the beast of a humanoid roared, rising from the cover to release a flurry of increasingly inaccurate bolts to suppress the four individuals and allow the other commandos to enter semi-safely and seek cover.

For every second the trigger was held the barrels glowed that much brighter, threatening to melt if he wasn't careful. Yet such sustained fire was necessary against these targets. Death Troopers. He had heard mention of this class of soldier, though nothing ever concrete. The intelligence circles of a corporal were few, yet even at the bottom of the grapevine you hear stories.

The bogeymen of the First Order, ebon-clad avatars of death.

Oh joy.

 

[Dominic Craig]

Allies: [member="Lucius Draugh"] | [member="Koda Fett"]
Enemies: [member="Deacon"] | [member="Krenis Skirata"] | [member="Chekīta Awaud"]
Objective: Glad-Hand The Graushling
Location: FOSB Processing Centre, IDF Drilling West Wing

The officer tactfully shrugged off the bounty hunters lack of reciprocation, "Of course, of course." He politely continued, "Ever the professional." He mused with a chuckle. Dominic gave a nod, and the bounty hunter's catch was jabbed with a rifle to the back by an approaching stormtrooper, before being pressed forward, into the processing area. "But this isn't some blank cheque we can give you." Craig told him, "We're going to have to verify the guy's identity, before I am at all authorised to give a payment." He gestured to the bounty hunter to follow him, "Shouldn't take too long, but long enough for some questioning. If you'll please follow me." The FOSB man lead the officer into a side room. It was pretty spartan, but obviously used by the guards. He gestured to a seat, at a grey, metal table, and then took one himself. A datapad sat on top.

"Orders from HQ, are to have us take a record of the bounty hunters actions." Craig told him, "Just to make sure there isn't a cell, and we can follow up and see if we can find any further leads." Special Agent Craig paused, and turned on the datapad, "First and foremost, where did you find this guy?" He inquired, "As many details as possible help." He sat back in the chair, and rested the datapad in his lap. As he waited for the bounty hunter to provide a response. However, his earpiece buzzed, and Craig responded immediately, "Sorry, just a moment."

The commlink paused, "Sir, this Omega Four, we have an inspection team." The voice on the other end, "This one's different. Lead guy has Supreme Commander's sigil." The note made the FOSB man pause. Usually, he'd be able to try and push off any military interference, but it seemed, for the moment, that someone had decided to come in and shake things up. Part of him wondered if this had been Kurz's doing. But, in any case, he would continue.

"Alright," Dominic replied, "Thanks for the heads up, and get someone to tell him where I am." The FOSB officer ordered, before ending the call. He sighed, and eyed the bounty hunter, "Apologies for that, I got an inspection coming, and the guy'll be headed here." He shook his head, and breathed out heavily, "If you want to stay I wouldn't blame you." he added, "But feel free to join me while I glad hand this prick." He chuckled a little, and stood up, straightening his uniform, before leaving the room. With the arrival of Lucius, Dominic saluted before the young teenager. He did well not to expose his surprise to the young age, and instead opted for pleasantries.

"Evening sir." The FOSB officer began, despite having no information about what, if any rank this fellow held. All he knew for certain, was that the intelligence he received was correct. Graush's label was on these stormtroopers pauldrons. "I'm Special Agent Dominic Craig, FOSB." Dominic introduced himself, "As per the instructions given on Dosuun, I am running an intelligence gathering operation here." he paused, "If you would like to discuss my findings up to date, I would be more than happy to oblige a briefing."

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Location: Sullust, Underground
Objective: Find the artifact, claim it in the name of the Supreme Leader
Allies: First Order, [member="Samka Derith"], @Barbatos
Enemies: New Republic, [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Abigail Meredydd"] [member="Mishel Kryze"] @Toreka
Equipment: Raiment of the Vigilant, Vader's Bane Lightsaber, Kyrel's Harbinger Saberstaff

Walking in the dark with a Praetorian Guard amongst them to act as Sieger's eyes, ears, and mouth. To oversee the mission went as planned and to provide back up to the two experienced Knights of Ren. Kyrel needless to say always felt uneasy around the Praetorian Guards, the faceless protectors of the Supreme Leader, they had even surpassed the Ren in absolute blind loyalty that not even the Ren had possessed. What was even more unsettling was the thoughts he could sense from Decitus. Not sure that she shared the same sentiments of gathering the artifact, and even still he still sought what power she had. What she could show him, what could be beyond what he already knows.

Reaching out with the Force he could sense the artifact, and even further the Praetorian had pointed to the ruins of what looked like a destroyed biosphere scattered across halls and corridors, moving slowly along the path. The presence growing stronger the closer they had walked in darkness. Despite what he felt in the Force in the form of Jedi, his teeth gritted in delight. The bloodlust striking in it's pure form. THe desire to kill Jedi strong within him as much as it was claiming the artifact. Yet where was the presence coming from even he could not say, yet he did know that their paths would collide and even so if it would go peacefully it was all up in the air.

"It cannot be too far, but it feels as if we are roaming endless in these tunnels... Surely there must be an end in sight." He said one foot in front of the other, marching slowly, lightsabers dangling. In the distance, he could hear sounds coming from within the tunnels. It was now clear that they weren't the only ones searching for the artifact. He quickened his pace in hopes of trying to find some way out of the labyrinth and deeper through the ruins of the Biosphere attempting to reach the artifact faster than hopefully, the enemy could.

 

[Chekīta Kaie]

Ally Peps: [member="Deacon"] aparetnly
Enemy Peps: [member="Dominic Craig"]
Objective: Raid Prison
Post: 2
Equipment: Weapon-Armor-ARGH

When people said this place was volcanic she did not expect it to be so crusty and soot filled, probably a good thing she chose to wear here black armor. Anything else would have been chalked black by now, the short trip towards the meeting point having not been the most well trodden, unfortunate she had to keep under the radar, a Jet pack would have been very useful right about now.

Kneeling down she once again checked her holo map, a small flashing dot indicating that the group zone was just over the next ridge, beyond that the prison from were they would be breaking some people out. Her job? sit wait and act when things get loud, Chekit was no under cover agent, not super sneaky black ops, not she was a Mando, someone who ran into battle under fire. A person that acted when crap hit the fan to shot and be shot at, that was her specialty.

Climbing above the outcropping her eyes fell upon [member="Krenis Skirata"] and the small rebel force tailing behind, Chekita sliding down the black rocky sloop, creeping her way over to the rest. "Chekita Banana, reporting for duty, anything happen yet? or is mister inside man still doing all the sneaking business"?

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Allies: [member="The Wayfarer"] | [member="Nunak"]
Enemies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Kyli DT-6767"] | [member="Luther Ando"] | [member="Tanomas Graf"]
Objective: Train Job
Equipment: In Signature

---

​

"It wasn't until I was balanced on the seat of that swoop bike, ready to leap down on top of the car below me, that I realized just how deep this had gone. A man dead on the streets of Coronet, his insides unlike anything the sawbones had ever seen before. Imperial designation codes seared into his DNA. Corellia wants to know if the First Order is making supermen, and now the lowly detective who had seen too much is about to rob a train in the middle of what's about to become a warzone..."​

Mykas Venture Memlogs, 851 ABY​

​

Myk jumped, skidded across the roof of the train car, and nearly tumbled over the other side.

Inhuman strength allowed him to hoist himself back in place with ease, and once he had magnetized the soles of his feet he was even able to stand and move forward. Inspector Venture was no commando, as far as the rest of the jackboots he was with knew he was probably Corellian Intelligence. Realization dawned on him that given his current assignment in a way he was. It had been a weird couple of days. He was supposed to be their codebreaker, to keep a lookout and deal with any electronic countermeasures they might encounter.

The real Corellian spooks had given him a different mission. Determine if there was any validity to the rumored Imperial project designated AFTERLIFE.

His chances of infiltrating a high security facility where any project files might be stored were low, but the experts back home said the stiff in the Coronet morgue most likely required regular injections of chemical stimulants to balance out their biochemistry. They had to transport those doses somehow, and Sullust was a good a place to start as any. The rest was serendipity. It wasn't long before he heard blaster fire, which was his signal to move. Venture dropped down in between two of the train cars, pressing his back against the door of one and leaning over to glance through its window. He caught a glimpse of a heated las fight between a squad of Imperial troopers and the commandos he was working with.

The car across from him appeared to be empty, so as quickly as he could Myk leapt across the gap and forced open the lock with his mechanical grip, letting himself inside. No sooner had he drawn his personal CR-2 heavy blaster than an Imperial trooper dashed into the cabin, drawn by the commotion of the firefight next door. They both froze, having almost ran right into each other. The trooper raised his carbine, and on instinct he scissor kicked the weapon out of his hands. Myk clubbed the man across the temple with the butt of his blaster, and landed a powerful uppercut to the jaw to make sure he would go down for the count.

"I'm in position," he grunted into his comm link, dragging the trooper's body out of sight behind a stack of equipment, "Buy me as much time as you can."

 

[Hannah]

Hannah, The Cog Girl
Planet: Sullust
Location: Outskirts of Ruined Jedi Temple
Objective: Secure the Perimeter
Action: Geared up Z-24 Rotary Blaster Cannon
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Abigail Meredydd"] | [member="Mishel Kryze"] | [member="Toreka"]
Enemies: Acquiring First Order [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Barbatos"]

=================​

The crate weighed terribly so, almost impossible to think they weren't simply just transporting a large slab of durasteel. Perhaps by simple percentages they were not far from the truth, but the civilian rebels certainly wouldn't attempt to open the crate before it reached the targeted destination. The assignment was rather strange, the old ruined temple of the Jedi hardly held any significant military importance, and even it could be turned into a military supply base they would find it hard pressed to defend it if the First Order decided to rain hellfire upon them.

Regardless, these rebels had their mission and the First Order be damned if they were going to finish their objective and finally liberate themselves into a free planet. The wheels beneath the crate helped, but without proper re-pulsar lifts, moving the crate was just difficult. Even though these rebels understood the terrain, rocks, soot and gravel, the crate itself caused its own set of issues of its weight and size. But they persisted, until they finally reached one of the natural caverns that formed near the ruined temple and the four rebels all shared a sigh of relief and slapped the transmitter on and quickly moved further into the cavern.

Inside the crate a humanoid form awoke, the transmitter had virtually no range but it triggered the revitalization of the being inside the crate. The top of the crate slowly divided into two before compressed air spat each piece up and off the crate. A hand grasped the edge of the crate, then after a second armored and clawed hand covered the first like an exoskeleton, the other side of the crate also gripped by another armored clawed hand. Hannah rose up from the crate, her body lunged forward and her head slumped downward, as if unaccustomed to the weight to the extra weight of her armor.

Legs bent and she roughly landed on the ground after she jumped upwards out of her crate, the ground beneath her clawed feet sunk a tad and her tail slammed the gravel with terrifying force. Her head slowly rolled to the left, than to the right before it whipped itself back up into its normal place. The eyes glowed bright blue, the face mask armored as well with a reinforced chin and mouth section, followed by a smooth rounded white plasteel eyes and forehead covering.

The top of her head heavily reinforced, as if designed to slam into a duracrete wall and possibly even break through, but the what frightened the rebels was its lack of voice. It turned away and walked over to the crate to grab the only weapon left in the crate, a large rotary blaster cannon. With the claws slowly detracted back into their sheath inside the hand and forearm, It slowly lifted up the blaster cannon and comfortably began to head out to Its mission.

[Objective understood. . . Strategic Value? Absolute. . . Acquiring Targets]

Spoiler: Battle Cog Girl