Dominion The Red War: Abraxas | CIS

[Tireya Syvare]

Location: Entering the Abraxas Atmosphere
Objective: Follow the Nightmother’s Lead
Tag: Vytal Noctura | Open​

And there it was. Not only had she drawn the prying eyes of those immediately around her, but she’d drawn that of Nightmother Noctura’s as well. Just what the young witch initiate needed. To give her superior any more reason to doubt her abilities. After all, her first meeting with the woman, Tireya had been in chains back home on Rimos. She was expected to be burned at the stake for her aptitude with powers beyond the natural human element. The event that saw Valyra’s spirit transfer from the doll as it was burned, to herself when the spirit now lived among her thoughts. Another conscience within her own to speak to her. To question her. To challenge and chide her. It was a relationship Tireya held little appreciation toward as her life had been subject to an endless torment ever since.

The enjoyment Valyra got out of it seemed ceaseless. And with it, Tireya had felt her sanity steadily slipping. But how much longer until her mind was not her own anymore? How much longer until her body was but a husk to be worn by another who’d not known a mortal form in days beyond count?

As the Nightmother spoke to her, Tireya’s cobalt eyes would rise to meet the emerald of her own though words would not so quickly come to slip between her lips.

“Careful how you choose your words, child. Those that lay upon the surface of your conscience betray you.” Valyra had a way of always chiming in, whether it was necessary she do so or not. “Remember this, girl. They may accept you for your gift, but would they be so accepting of one who speaks to voices which cannot be seen?” Valyra worked the words in a way that even though she would not speak for Tireya, she could manipulate her so as to not condemn them.

Tireya swallowed hard and offered and offered a whimsical shrug. “The last time I was around some many common man, their efforts were to see me burned. Forgive me if my past forces an uncomfortable disposition of the future. Such things are not so easily forgotten and to heal takes time.” Tireya closed her eyes, hoping the Nightmother would see only truth in her words. In fact there was a truth in each word spoken by her tongue. Though there was another part to the story that was yet to be told, yet perhaps some day it would.

 

[Frank Sterling]

Location: Abraxas, The Lionhearted
Time: 1500 Hours
Equipment:Gen 2 Armor System custom-fitted, TDW HARM with Battle Rifle Parts Kit, M-18 Pit Viper, LWMMG
cybernetics: durasteel skeletal system, Biotech organs, and muscular systems, Synth skin, plasteel dermal plating
Objective: (1) Establish control of the upper base (2) Get to the underwater elevators (3) Fight through, take control of the underwater storage areas.
Tags: Luna Terrik
Frank marched To the Dropship having just finished up physical therapy after going under the knife again to get more cybernetics, he's now kitted up and ready for war. Taking his seat on the shuttlecraft he began checking over his gear dry firing each one at the floor to make sure there are no stoppages on the weapons before loading them up. "Just another day at the office huh Luna?" Frank said over the hum of the engines spinning up. Frank Was picked for this mission due to his heavy weapons and demolition skills and after his after-action report on the invasion who can argue with his skills?

As he sat there in his seat his face masked by his iconic shark-faced helmet visor He couldn't help but grimace, some say no rest but for the wicked others that violence only begins more violence and all that frank could think about was how all this would end. would it end in galactic peace? Unlikely, no what's more than likely going to happen, is it ends with more sons and daughters going home in a pine box before the endless conflicts see a light or error of their ways. all Frank can do now is make sure his fellow teammates don't end up on the list of letters to send home to mothers and fathers.

 

[Lyli Dragi]

Wearing: Torchflare Armor

Armed with: Blade of Falsehoods (Red Bladed Lightsaber)

Objective: BYOO (Assassinate Pirate Captain)

Came to Abraxas in: The Closed Casket (VT-49 Decimator)


007 hours earlier...

Syd Celsius sat in front of her terminal, not sure of what she should say to her student Starlin Rand . She couldn't even think of a message.

She had led him to Dantooine. She had led him there because she agreed with Laertia Io's assessment: The Bryn'adul had to be stopped at all costs, whether you found your allies palatable or not. This fighting served no one except the Bryn'adul.

While Laertia had sought official cover as a member of the Confederacy, Syd had chosen other means to join, choosing to have no presence in CIS space as herself, able to disappear when she wanted...

...and reappear as someone else.

It was different from the Witch Personas nestled in her subconscious, who Syd didn't know were actually in control when she channeled the power and skill associated with each. This was her willingly, albeit temporarily, subsuming herself, hiding in the mind of a False Dark Jedi. One who seemed to possess the Dark Abilities and The Aura, when both that the False Persona manifested were actually just clever simulacrums.

The real Lyli Dragi was dead. Killed by Celsius way before having run into Starlin. A ruthless assassin, now nothing but a shroud to obscure Syd's nature.

Syd wasn't certain what to do. On the one hand, she believed The Bryn'adul were the greater threat. On the other hand...how could she keep Starlin safe? Syd feared that maybe Jacen Nimdok was right. Maybe Starlin had taken too much after her...they both had a love of sweet loot. They both charged into battle giving zero feths...

Starlin was the closest she would ever get to knowing what it was like to have a son. If she gave him up, let him go back to the silvers, they'd drill the rebel out of him. In other words, the very thing that made Starlin...well...Starlin. Another serene little lobotomy case with a lightsaber...

After the way the SJC had condemned millions to death for refusing to enter even an incredibly shaky temporary Alliance, wouldn't it be worse to give him up so they could send him on suicide runs to Korriban or Dantooine to pointlessly throw away lives in a vain attempt to spit in the Sith Eternal's face?

As compelling as Nimdok's words were, she was not completely convinced sending him off would be the best thing. He had barely survived Nar Kreeta, and that was with Syd's active training. He had so much to learn. So much potential. Why should his Light be the light of a Jedi? Couldn't it be his own light?

If she gave him up to the traditionals now, after all they had been through so far...he'd just die trapped in their mold.

Syd ultimately still wasn't sure what to do. She didn't want to ruin his life. Didn't want to make him a target for Jedi Shadows forever. Not that he was any safer from the Sith but two different groups of Replacement Killers against Starlin's Chow Yun Fat was Two too many.

Syd had not yet ended his apprenticeship...but she had given him a few days to think over his life. It 'had' been his choice, and he had gotten his hand cut off by a man who normally wouldn't have been an enemy. The Jedi were fanatical about pursuing those they viewed as fallen. People like Ryv Karis had proven they didn't care how many worlds ate it as long as he got to fight the Dark Side.

Syd sat in her bronze colored gown, trying to think about what to say, but eventually gave up trying to type and decided to get straight to business.

The CIS had contacted her Dark Jedi Alias, requesting the Assassination of a Pirate Captain in a fortified underground hangar.

As Syd changed into the Armor she had made for this deep cover identity, part of her mused that Starlin could benefit, learning how to fake Dark Side abilities...

She got into a kneeling position in the center of her quarters aboard the VT-49 Decimator known as The Closed Casket, clasping the Lightsaber of the long dead Lyli Dragi, and whispered the incantation.

The fiery headed, Atrisian woman's flesh bubbled and melted disgustingly on her skeleton, muscles and facial structure warping into a fair skinned woman with reddish brown hair and sharp features, slightly athletic. She opened blue eyes and stood up in her armorweave cape and armored red leotard and boots.

The exiled, failed Jedi hid out of necessity inside the body of a self absorbed wannabe cut throat...

Lyli Dragi, restrained by the former Jedi within, was eager to crack skulls. She hadn't had a good assignment in weeks. No action in fact she had been stuck at a...

Lyli stopped. Strange...it suddenly didn't seem that important where she had been before.

Lyli headed to the cockpit, cracking ger knuckles, flesh bubbling on her face for a few seconds without her realizing it.

A half hour later...

The Pirate screamed as Lyli shot another can off his head with her Night Stinger. He shrieked in fear.

"Your screaming voice is running out of longevity, like my patience. Where's your Captain?" Lyli demanded in a soft feminine voice. The creature within restrained the surface persona from going too far and giving into its spite and cruelty to do anything beyond scare him.

"He...he's hidden in a valley not far from here!" The pirate yelled.

Lyli pointed the Nightstinger at his chest. "You can do better than that you deliberately vague bastard." the False Dark Jedi snapped.

"Two and a half clicks from here. Lots of turrets and war droids!" he yelled, all the other pirates shot by her rifle on stun mode and knocked out. She had been quick, unable to pull the same moves her inner self could, and shot them all at a distance before they could react, taking it slow and patient. Lyli believed she might get a bonus if they had bounties. In reality, the Force Spawn hiding in her mind wanted as few casualties as possible.

"This captain whose been raiding vessels...my employers don't even know his name. What is it?"

The answer made the Syd within go cold momentarily.

"His name is Howard...we just...we just call him Howard..." the Pirate answered. "He's badass. Hyper badass. They say he survived some sort of killer Android and two separate Force Witches-"

The stun beam hit him in the chest and knocked him cold.

"His luck..." Lyli hissed in contempt, face bubbling back to Syd's for a split second...

"...has run out..."

Lyli left a beacon for CIS to pick up the unconscious pirates then strode off into a rocky valley through a narrow mountain path leading to the valley the outpost she had siezed by force overlooked...

 

[Kiff Brayde]

S T O R M B R E A K E R

Tag: Verin Oldo | Anashla Deshal | Aleksandr Kerensky | G 3 M 1 N 1 | Domino Dubose

The aftermath of the Battle of Dantooine had Kiff and his crews sorely in need of a little shore leave. That, they had been granted, and their usual patrols were being carried out by other previously off-duty elements of the Armada. But for Kiff? There was no break from his responsibilities, no matter how much he longed for it.

And so that now found him in the command seat of a one Victator-class Battlecruiser -- the class named in memory of the Victator, Kiff's flagship -- playing the role of overseer to Commander Verin Oldo of the 513th. Oldo was a capable man, and the 513th had been Kiff's most-often-choice of a combat line to take into engagements. Most notably, they'd been the backbone of Kiff's forces at Talay, and their sacrifices had not been so flamboyant or pivatol Commander Jol and the Victator had, they had served admirably. Similarily, they had displayed the same level of valor over Dantooine. And now here at Abraxas, Kiff was hoping they would do the same thing.

The briefing they had gotten had been succint. The CNS Valor had been incapacitated by pirates, and she and her escorts were immobile, easy prey for the pirates if they returned. They were obscured by a debris field, left over from the battle, and now the fleet elements of the Confederacy Armed Forces had to get to them before the pirates did. Another day, another crisis; twas the life of High Marshal Kiff Brayde.

Oldo, datapad in hand, informed Kiff that they were exiting hyperspace, and soon enough they reverted, the full might of the 513th in display. Was it overkill? Maybe, but Kiff always preferred to overcompensate than undercompensate, since the latter only left him at an advantage. Sure enough, the debris field was there, right as promised. Oldo mentioned that there were other naval elements on the scene, and left the statement open-ended, waiting for his thoughts.

"First thing," Kiff said. "We got Tractor Beams -- use them to clear away the larger pieces of debris, the one that would inhibit anything at cruiser level or above. Once we do that, then we can send in the bulk of the fleet to reinforce the Valor's position. I wat flak corvettes and two escort frigates on our rear, though; these pirates could be coming from any vector, and it wouldn't be good of us to be caught unawares."
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[G 3 M 1 N 1]

TAG: Verin Oldo | Anashla Deshal | Aleksandr Kerensky | G 3 M 1 N 1 | Domino Dubose

Rig: F-22 Star Raptor x2
- 3 Concussion Missiles, 4 M2 Heavy guns (2 on pilons), 1 backup light rapid fire Ion laser cannon
Location: Asteroid Field
Allies: Ji-Ji
Objective: Scout / Engage

Post engagement was essential, the enemy lines fractured scattering in all directions as Gem and JiJi proceeded to hit them with everything they had, a contingent of half a dozen fighters was nothing to the gigantic fleets that rocked up on the doorstep of Abraxas. The pirates wouldn't stand a chance, likely retreating back into the asteroid fields the second they would catch wind of them... They were about to have a lot of company very soon with their inevitable retreat of the forward pirate forces. But even so, a well trained guerilla force in the heart of an asteroid field could potentially give these hulking fleets some trouble if they wanted to, they had already stranded one star destroyer in space, it was likely they could do so again if they needed to. With the danger ever present, whether it be a matter of their strategy, load-out or both, they would need to be on guard for anything. ​

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Gem and Jiji would decelerate for high mobility combat, breaking formation and turning on a dime as the G's of the pressurized interior of the ship would hammer Gem's body into the seat she was latched into. Whirling around in an attempt to hunt down one of the breaking ships while threading her own through the tapestry of the asteroid field. It took moments for the pirates to adjust their combat strategy, using their numbers to allow one of them to act as bait while the other would attempt to capitalize in their position. However, with the sheer amount of cover and environmental hazards available in the field, it was difficult, even for the F-22s to land a clear shot. Blitzing red plasma energy into the vacuum of space to have asteroids the size of hangars explode with the force of the repeated impacts, craters blasted out of them as the explosive payload would force them to break. ​

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Gem could see the volley of twin linked cannons firing on her from behind, the streams dipping and swaying as she would do her best to avoid the flow. banking a sharp left to have the tracking ship give chase as the other would turn sharply to follow suit. Both ships coming in behind and targeting the sweet rear of the F-22 as the blitz of emerald plasmic flame would tear through the asteroid field while Gem would punch her thrusters, accelerating away from them as they would eagerly give chase doing the same. The Microrepulsars of the ship going into overdrive with keeping the ship balanced and away from the debris of the field, pitching dipping and spiraling where necessary while the few that Gem wasn't able to avoid were blasted away with tactical flair with her cannons. The pirates were keeping pace at Gem's request as the group of them would approach two asteroids which hovered close together. ​

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"Perfect! Jiji what's your status?" Gem would call out for a moment as Jiji had found himself in the dogfight of the century, Crymorah were known to hire a more elite member base than most organizations, but this was getting silly. The two fighters were working in concert with each other, but the superior craft was doing its best to not get hit. Jiji had managed to land a couple of shots with his canons on the enemy ship, however their deflector shields had tanked the better part of the blows for now. "They're rocking some strong deflectors, but nothing I can't punch through with another volley, you?" He would respond as a green blaster bolt shot across the wing of his ship leaving little more than a scorch-mark across the ships' light armour plating with a near miss, pulling him back to focus, entering a corkscrew and pummeling a large asteroid with enough firepower from all four cannons that it would break apart into a small debris field allowing Jiji to fly through its center while the other ship was forced to fly around the hazard to avoid it entirely, slowing them down and throwing them off their aim. ​

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Without needing to break and cover her ally, Gem would begin to accelerate again, narrowly avoiding the deadly rain of pre-meteorites while making for the much larger masses. The rain of blasters cascaded around her frame as she took limited evasive maneuvers, the rocks in between her and them were doing much of the work as she would engage her range finder. Charting a course for one of her concussion missiles in moments as she would hammer her accelerator and fire. The Missile would dislodge and fire forward weaving through the debris for one of the gigantic masses of rock, ice and minerals. But an F-22 at full speed out-raced almost any missile, in moments the missile was lagging behind Gem's craft as she shot for the gap between the two rocks the missile was targeted to slam into weaving subtly from left to right, cradling as one of the ships broke free from the death-trap, the other tunnel visioning on their prey, seeing the kill... ​

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But as the explosion slammed into the face of the boulder it was too late, Debris tore free at high speeds pummeling the ship while Gem outpaced the shock-wave by a mach, tearing through in the short distance with a charted course and out the other side while one of her chasers met their fiery end. Pulling up sharply Gem would seek to follow the trails of the remainder, having pulled away first Gem had a golden opportunity to get behind them as another explosion resonated about a click away. "Mark, got one of them Gem, one remaining, but they're still behind me!"​

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"Copy that Jiji, lets finish them off, and get back to the fleet, im hearing a lot of chatter on coms seems like the big guns have shown up since we've been playing around. Valor seems like is under control, we should resume finding out where these peeps are coming from, then we can direct the cavalry their way. See if we can scare these guys back home for fire support in the mean time." Jiji gave the affirmative and Gem would see if she could get a hold of one of the monstrous fleets that had come into into contact with the Abraxas system in the mean time. Gem would continue talking through the secure channel, ensuring that it would be reached and heard by the new entrants. ​

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"This is Violet Leader to Control, V-2 and I are finishing up with these pests, but we might be able to harass them back home. Keep an eye out for the homing beacon of this craft, patching through the details to you now. But heads up, those fighters will be coming out of the forest for you soon, and their shields aren't too bad either." And with that, spying the last remaining pirate ship, she would allow the herding to commence. Letting out tactical blasts of her cannons and nipping at the guy's heels to keep him on his toes. No direct shots as their desperate albiet skilled evasion made that difficult even for Gems prowess, she wasn't sure she could hit him like this even if she wanted to, but it was enough for now as the ship began to slowly alter its heading...​

 

[Hisashi]

ABRAXAS
Fight or Flight?

The Silence? Broken.

At first the quarters were dominated solely by the heavy thud of Hisashi's boots. Yet, after what felt a small eternity, the Monarch spoke. Her tone was firm. Noble. A twinge of frustration colored each syllable. The warrior's pacing stopped, firstly because of how she addressed him. He remained still because she willed it. Turning, his eyebrow was raised inquisitively. "Point taken." he said, folding his arms upon his chest. She then rose from the sofa, catching her dress and utterly toppling a nearby table in the process.

Paper and ink went everywhere. The table thundering to the floor was the loudest noise the quarters had heard in hours. Unphased, Hisashi simply stared - eyebrow raising ever so slightly higher. She approached, carefully navigating the maze of ink and paper she had made. And, with each step, she annunciated her thoughts. She did not want to run. She did not want to return to the safety of Naboo. Hisashi should have guessed as much. On the day that she had been dubbed monarch, at the passing of the last Queen, she did not want to follow his advice to go to Roon instead.

She always wanted to face the danger head on. To show the strength of the crown. No. To show her strength. And as her protector, that was a mindset that complicated his role. Honorable, absolutely. But difficult. When she finally drew near, her hands captured one of his own. His fingers dwarfed her own and instinctively curled about them. A hefty sigh escaped him as she gave permission. She opened the floodgates, appealed to that wolf that hungered to feel his blade bite into the flesh of another. In this moment, he could go. He could take a pod down to the surface and fight until his arm was tired.

But.

Saraya Arenais .

She'd see the conflict in his eyes. The momentary glee that arose when she opened the door. The moment of common sense rearing its ugly head. Hisashi's free arm encircled the woman, drawing her into an embrace. Solid. Safe. He sighed again. "You tempt me with what I want." he said, half chuckling. "You know I'd love nothing more than to go down to the surface and rip those pirates apart. But. I am not here alone. If I was, I would be there. But I am not."

"And I cannot, and will not, leave your side. The repute of Naboo is important. Keeping you alive is far more important to me. So, I propose a middle ground. We have a handful of skilled pilots in your detail. Let us send them to ground, to fight in the name of Naboo. Scour the skies for the scum, while knowing I am here to keep you breathing."

His free arm gave her a confident squeeze before releasing. His hand then fell to the knife upon his waist, tugging it free...and offering it to the monarch. "As for now...I may as well teach you. Heaven knows the day will come when you insist to come with me to fight. When it comes, might as well make sure you're ready."​

 

[Darth Metus]

ABRAXAS
The Twilight Path

Father.

At face value, a man standing upon a forgotten world - uttering a single word held no meaning. To the eyes mundane, this was a fruitless action. A prayer to unseen gods perhaps. A mantra before diving into the fray. Yet, when Rann Thress spoke, each syllable was laiden with purpose. Unbeknownst to him, the Darkness infected his tongue. Bearing his will and desires beyond the mundane. The Force was infinite and the Darkness vast - and thus, despite being so far away, the son was heard. His desires were heard.

The response?

Light.

Before the eyes of the young warrior manifested a sliver of the bleak. A twilight star no greater than his thumb. Burning. Shining. Yet it did not brim with the anathema of their kind. No. It radiated with the Dark Side. It bathed the young man in the presence of one far old, far wiser, and far greater. Though his physical form was yet inbound, delayed by the depths of hyperspace transit, the ability of Darth Metus to commune with his son was undeterred. The twilight star moved. As if carried by unseen hands, it crossed the minute divide between them and settled upon the man's shoulder. A veritable tongue of flame now resided within inches of Rann's ear.

He spoke. Now he could listen.

My son. With whom I am well pleased. he began. Each word was uttered beyond the mundane, rattling about directly within the man's skull. For their speech was meant for Rann and Rann alone. You struggle, as I once did. You, unlike your siblings...you follow the same path as I. On this path, there are no gifts. There is no giving. You must take. But as you are crawling and not yet walking, I will teach you the first steps.

Do you know what it means to be Sith? Do you know what the title Darth implies?

The young man sought direction. But before he could stride forward, he needed to know how to walk.

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[Eternal Avarice]

Kiff Brayde | Amelia von Sorenn | Aleksandr Kerensky | Domino Dubose | G 3 M 1 N 1 | Verin Oldo ​

It was the perfect trap.

Pirates were such finnicky people. Place the right word in the right ear and you could all but ensure they would at according to a design. In this moment that design was the CNS Valor. A beautiful representation of the Confederacy and all it stood for. Some found those ships to be signs of hope and sources of motivation. However, this source of motivation meant nothing to the men and women of the Wildcard Fleet.

The Outer Rim had become a safe haven to the lawless, a place where those wishing to make a name from themselves could do such without the fear of unwanted entanglements.

What better way to make a name for yourself then by publicly humiliating the Confederate Navy?

As the Confederacy's ships moved closer and closer to the Valor, their best technicians and sensors would pick up a number of contacts. They moved through the surrounding space with ruthless efficiency, navigating the asteroid field without so much of a second thought. Their ships were painted in black and brown material, which blended in flawlessly with the rocky asteroids surrounding the fleet. They moved in teams of ten and twenty. Flying from behind the larger asteroids and descending upon the Confederate fleets.

For those in the front of the action, they would find the modified Y-wings were stronger, faster, and more agile than their counterparts. The bombing runs came in even droves, pouring over the more prominent fleet of Aleksandr Kerensky that had deployed it's fighter compliment. The ship had cleared a path through the field of debris, most likely clearing a number of the Y-wings before the attack could even begin.

Even the Confederate fleet could not stop what came next, however. The Valor which had served as bait, was now nothing more than another piece of meat from the grinder. A hardened squadron came from seemingly nowhere, closing the distance to the ship before the Confederacy's fighter escort could arrive to support it from the pirate attack.

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A number of the fighters deployed to the ship's ventral paneling. Their gunners fired, slicing through the unarmored deployment bays and tearing through the ship's inner workings. Almost immediately the warship's most critical functions began to fail until finally, they became sitting ducks.

What fighters did not assault the ship's underbelly had seemingly deployed to the top of the warship. With the shields down, their proton torpedo's wreaked havoc upon the warship. The attack was brief, yet the tactical strikes of the bombers could only end in one result...

As the Valor was overtaken by fire and destruction, a single transmission could be heard echoing over an open frequency.
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Total Fleet Comp: {So far}
35x X-Wing Starfighters
30x Y-Wing Bombers

 

[Mitra Fay]

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Location: Abraxas, .8 Clicks from the pirate base
Time: 1500 Hours
Equipment: XIPHOS Armor, BCR-Compact Sniper Rifle, BAW-56 Blaster Pistol, SYC Smoke Grenades (3)
Tags: | Luna Terrik | Tiria Reinhart | Frank Sterling | Rook Heimdal |


“Look, all I’m saying is, if those spy nerds got their karking banta crap together, you and I wouldn’t have needed to lay in the mud for twenty-seven hours now.”

A heavy sigh coming from her right caused the sniper to turn her head slightly from looking down her scope, catching a look of utter annoyance coming from the older commando. It was only a joke. One would think someone that had been a solider long enough could learn to at least take one of those, but this Granny character seemed like they had a rod shoved so far up their-

“We’re here..because we were ordered to be here. You’re here because you were picked..for some reason, to join this squad. I have no honest to the galactic balance clue what the commander saw in you, but you have done nothing but talk and complain this entire time..” Mitra couldn’t help the heavy huff that came from her lips at that comment by the corporal. She had earned her spot in this squad. She had earned the right to stand beside the other omegas, and yet was continuing to be treated like she didn’t even belong here.

So, like she always did when her age seemingly blocked her path, Mitra settled in, focusing on her work instead. Work proved itself. Nothing could dispute work when it was laid out, plain and simple. At least…that’s what her dad always told her.

The commando shifted slightly, sliding the stock of her rifle back into the crook of her arm. A sleep deprived, line ridden eye stared down the scope, breathing slowing to steady the magnification as she glanced over the base’s ramparts. “The two drunkards are back again…mark..357.” One gloved hand reached up to slightly adjust the range on the scope, the pair of pirates slowly coming into view as the scope was adjusted. The first was just the to left of the scope’s axis marker at 360, while the other leaned over the railing next to him. There looked to be an anti-air gun of some sort on the tower, partially why Mitra and Granny had kept such an eye on it.

As the blonde, frizzy haired commando continued to stare down her scope, watching as the pair of pirates passed a bottle of what she could only assume to be a cheap alcohol back and forth, Granny began to mark down a number of small details on the datapad in front of her, before looking back through her range spotter set up in front of her on a tripod. “That’s..330…335 meters out. Would be a .13 adjusting on your ‘y’ with this wind. Might need a setting shot when this all begins, though.” Again, Mitra reached up to adjust the scope, keying in the advice from the woman next to her. Despite their back and forth’s, she had to trust her spotter here. As long as she did, then there was a good chance that they’d both look good by the end of this.

“They’ll be launching soon, right?” Mitra spoke, eye not leaving the scope to do so. In truth, she had checked her watch quite a few times in the past few hours. Recon and deep infiltration had always been the training that made her the most nervous, and to be out in the wild, actually doing it for the first time…it was a miracle she hadn’t given away their position with a mistaken trigger fire by this point.

There was a moment of silence, maybe Granny trying to hold in a groan from the question being asked for what seemed to be the third time in the past hour. Instead of the tongue lashing she expected to come, it was a soft affirmation instead, which only served to put the young sniper even more on edge. “Aye, just got the comm from the commander. 10 minutes. Lets do one more sweep of the wall and courtyard, then zero in on that anti-air gun.” With a slow exhale, Mitra shifted slightly, splaying her legs slightly farther apart as she nodded. It was almost go time. And for all of the confidence she had in her own abilities…

She hoped she didn’t screw this up.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Location: Abraxas' Atmosphere
Objective: Gauge Tireya Syvare's State
Tag: Open | Tireya Syvare

Silence reigned after the woman had spoken. Vytal remembered the conditions under which they'd met. As she expected those deprived of their quarry no doubt remembered her.

"Healing takes time," Vytal echoed as such sentiment was as self-evident as many skies were blue. "Hand in hand is restoration of trust. It is easy to become insular under those conditions. To lose oneself to the currents and whims of time and fate. Remember this, Sister, if any seek to harm you, I would just as swiftly deal with them as I did those that tormented you before." Just because she was part of the Knights Obsidian and supported the Confederacy did not mean the Witch felt at all bound by those ties. The Law of Man only held sway so long as you allowed it. Vytal Noctura held to a far Older, far more powerful Law than that of mortals; and if it became necessary she would dispense with all the rest to protect those under her care.

"Do you wish to board one of the dropships? To protect those that might suffer, as you yourself had?" There was no shame admitting one was not ready. Shame only came from failing to recognize you weren't ready and forced yourself into a life or death situation regardless -- often getting others killed from the hubris. "Else, the Knights and soldiers have need of those like ourselves to divine where the hostile forces are. I could use a Sister like yourself toward that end." There were many ways someone could contribute; personal combat or dogfighting weren't the extent of what would could contribute to the Confederacy.

 

[Subject 73 Red]

Objective: Search and Destroy
Tags: Luna Terrik Frank Sterling Tiria Reinhart Mitra Fay

While the Grand Marshal gave her briefing, Red stood within the group, examining the map, looking at every point of the base. He had already looked over it countless times, but he still looked over it, memorizing the layout of the base. The objective was fairly straightforward, but it would depend on the execution of the plan. Then, Red noticed the exhaustion on the Grand Marshal's face. Something was bothering her, she rarely ever seemed this tired, or at least let it show. But Red didn't ask her about it, she had her reasons.

Then, the group broke, and everyone headed for their shuttles. Red walked off with the others, glancing back at the Grand Marshal, wondering what was up with her. Whatever the case, he just hoped she was ready for what was ahead.

Red walked over to his dropship. By now, he pretty much knew how this was going to go. Get in, complete the objective, get out. Despite what everyone wished for, Red knew that there were going to be casualties. It was unavoidable, it just mattered on how they managed to limit the amount of casualties. And having to go deep into an enemy base meant that the probability for high casualties was very high.

Red climbed into his dropship. Other commandos climbed in after him. Red sat down in his dropseat, holding his blaster carbine in his hands.

"Time to drop, shock, and rock people!" Red said to the other people in his dropship.

Then, the doors closed, and he heard the engines power on.

This was going to be interesting...

 

[Rook Heimdal]

Gear: XIPHOS Dauntless Phase-I Armor, satchel charge (x1), smoke grenades (x2), DEX (4 pack), frag grenade (x2), glop grenade (x2) first-aid kit, BAW-57 Heavy Blaster Pistol, TDW M-8 Shotgun.
Tags: Luna Terrik | Tiria Reinhart | Mitra Fay | Frank Sterling | Subject 73 Red

It wasn't her first rodeo.

But it'd been a damn long time since she last sat in the saddle.

The helmet about her head felt nostalgic and the armor on her lanky frame hugged her like an old friend. Too many years had slipped by since she'd donned a suit meant for anything rougher than a bar fight. The Outer Planets Alliance had welcomed her with an open hand, and in truth she held nothing but fine memories of the group. But nothing lasts forever, and she'd been in the deep-freeze for so long she just missed the big time...she hadn't enough time to thaw, not enough time to figure chit out. Was she ready now? Rook glanced over the squad of commandos around her, her practiced slow sweep she'd used on the regular during her days in The Kathol Outback. She lied and told herself she was.

How in the 'verse this Terrik woman saw it fit to accept her into Dauntless she didn't know. Rook nodded at the five minute warning and double-checked her gear. The new kids had new explosives but nothing so fancy the Firrerreo couldn't figure. She rolled one grenade in her palm before giving it an upward toss then catch, slipping it on her belt without missing a beat. Though natural as it felt to be back in ranks there was a wire of anxiety tugging at her mind. Several, several, wires. They made up the cobwebs of doubt and awkwardness she swept behind a crooked smile, painted over with an easy joke. Sometimes those anxieties spoke in a language she couldn't comprehend, and that's when she would just shut her eyes and laugh anyway, because life was funny like that. Rook made it funny like that.

But getting in Dauntless was no joke. It was old. It was refreshing. It was just what the doctor ordered. Something to fight for and people to fight with. It was really all she could ask for these days. Not to mention a body was never alone, and while inconvenient for the showers you got used to it. She popped some ammo in the fantastically simple shotgun she plucked from the armory. Nothing better than a reliable boomstick. The heavy blaster on her hip received a hard tap to make sure it was snug and she secured the satchel charge toward her back. As long as she didn't retreat there was no worry about a stray bolt setting off the charges. Fingers flexed around the shotgun barrel as she got a feel for the new weapon, and she felt the need to make an "innocent" remark.

"Glad for these stripes. The runt in the nest might know not to hit me." Her fist tapped the white and orange markings of her armor's breast as she spoke, her comm link broadcasting to a certain pale sniper.

 

[Laertia Io]

Objective: Retrieve The Sword of Surt'r


Laertia followed the floating T'sid Surt'r, who wore the face of her lover, and wore a crimson version of Laertia's own biker gear with gold instead of silver spikes down a steel plated passageway with a long viewport that offered a view of the starry night sky and the golden city lights of Coruscant, heading into what appeared to be an apartment, number 007 in the building.

Laertia entered a room with a rock garden placed in one corner, and rows of potted plants of varying shades of green. The insignia of the Jedi was on one wall in black, a set of ceremonial candles under it. Laertia saw sorcery writing on the walls, as well as drawings of Laertia's cybernetic arm, of her rabbits. Of her nicked and scratched dual vented Lightsaber The Constant Gardener.

T'sid gestured to a circular dining table with a simple black candle between two dinner plates.

Laertia went over to the table and sat down. She looked at the serving.

"Vegetable Sushi..." Laertia noted. "My favorite."

T'sid smiled, sitting down across from her. As a goodwill gesture, she placed her dual vented Lightsaber on the side. Laertia returned the gesture, placing her glossy black hilt on her own side, parallel to T'sid's blade, though she never blinked while looking at her.

"Why are you dressed like me?" Laertia asked.

"Have you not considered that 'you' are the one dressed like 'me'?" T'sid asked.

"Why do you look like Syd Celsius?"

"Is that what I am calling myself in your era?"

"Why would I be dressed like you?" Laertia asked.

T'sid touched her own lips, and Laertia felt the sensation on hers. She almost felt like Syd. Almost.

We have a Force Bond that connects us through time and space. Yours is muted on your end due to varying factors. Like whatever gave you those scars...just how did that occur, if I might ask?"

"It would not make for good dinner conversation..." Laertia said in a nuetral tone, staring into Surt'r's strange orange cat like eyes.

"Everything is good dinner conversation where you are concerned..." T'sid reassured her. "As for me, I am The Crimson Knight of Coruscant. I am the one they go to for consultation in Magical affairs...and eliminating powerful Dark Adepts. Similar, I suspect, to the work that you do."

"Did. I'm no longer a member of the Jedi Order..." Laertia replied, though she did not elaborate on why.

T'sid frowned.

"I didn't know that. I'm sorry. What happened?"

"Is this Coruscant?" Laertia asked calmly. "How did I get to Coruscant? What do you mean by 'my era'? Is this some kind of Flow Walk?"

"Its related to the technique. You aren't 'exactly' here. But you aren't 'exactly' where you are either. Aren't you going to try some?" Surt'r offered, gesturing to the Sushi.

"Is it the same case with the Sushi?"

"Of course." Surt'r took a bite. "Eat up..."

Laertia took a bite. It was tasty. It had been made just the way she liked it.

"You have me at a disadvantage..." Laertia confessed, not blinking still.

"I have felt our bond ever since I was knighted." Surt'r. "Felt your pain, your sorrow. Your fear. I dreamed of you. Always you. But I never saw your face until today. You are very beautiful as I have stated."

Barely remembered elements of her experience with The Pearl on Kattada caused an instinctive disquiet. Only the fact Surt'r looked like someone she knew kept Laertia relatively calm.

"You seem to have gone to great lengths to arrange a chat...and a candlelight dinner for two..." Laertia noted, as even she couldn't ignore the critical mass levels of yandere this implied.

"I had to. I have been haunted by your chill for over 007 years, my dear Julia. Wanted to be there for you. But Time kept me away, like a cruel torture. I couldn't bear it. I had to see you. Had to know that I wasn't crazy. So I hunted for the knowledge that would let us have this moment. I want to know you. Really know you."

"It's an awful lot of trouble to get a date is all I'm saying." Laertia said, staring into those fiery feline eyes, which betrayed only a primal hunger and need for the person across from her. Oddly, Laertia's ballooning self confidence caused her to be somewhat more flattered than disturbed as hell...but on some level she was still disturbed as hell...

She decided to take inspiration from her former rival Maple, and mimicked some of her roguish charm.

"Not that I don't find the gesture touching..." Laertia added a moment later, trying to keep it cordial for now as she ate another piece of Sushi.

"Delightful..." Laertia complimented.

Surt'r grinned and took another bite off her plate.

"I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself. I didn't want to scare you. I wanted to explain what we are. What you are to me..."

"And what am I to you?" Laertia asked politely of this strange incarnation of the Master of Starlin Rand

"My other. The Frost to my Flames. We were meant to unite. I see terrible evils in your future. Evils you and I are meant to face together. I believe we are to try and save The Galaxy..."

Laertia did not react to this...

"You know something of the evil I speak of already. Tell me at least some of it. You can trust me."

"Its not a matter of not trusting you, Surt'r. Its a matter of not affecting the future in a negative way. I fear I may have let slip too much already, if I really am on a partial visit to the past."

Surt'r frowned slightly but nodded.

"Forgive me...I...I've wanted to meet you so long and...I forget the little problems in the process...You're right...I should be more careful about what I ask..."

Something about her frown, her vulnerability, reminded Laertia so much of her own Syd that she couldn't help but teleport to her to clasp her hand.

"Your traversal of space in the blink of an eye, my body unbound by Gravity..." Surt'r spoke in that tone of desire that had so often done funny things to Laertia's brain since first hearing it, rising to face her.

"Are you starting to believe me now? That we are two halves?" Surt'r asked.

Laertia let the strange creature kiss her.

"Two halves of what though?" Laertia asked quietly. The kiss felt sort of like Syd's, but it was rougher, less reserved...

In spite of the incredibly strange situation, Laertia felt her self enjoying it...

Her eyes spotted a shimmer on the walls as she cupped Surt'r's face. The unsettling Eldritch math equations were hidden on every surface.

Laertia tried to think, but Surt'r's kiss was starting to make that difficult...

 

[Acantha Malvern]

B Y O O
The High Court of Illyria | Echo Vesulos | Xobos Yakieer | Caelyn Malkavian | Donne Toulemonde | Alida Ember​

A hissy, robotic voice coursed through the speakers in her room, which made Acantha curl into herself. She had grown to dislike the sound of voices forced through electronics and wiring. The noise was too distorted and attacked her sensitive ears in a way that nothing else did. Still, Father had told her she must obey the voice, so she did.​

​

The corridor from her room to the ship’s main hold was sparsely populated. It had been done on purpose. Father did not want to risk another crew, as Acantha was not exactly in control of her hunger yet. Still, what little of the crew walked by her did so in awe. In her human form, at least the staring was less. As was the fear. She was not a half-bird half-woman beast, twice the size of any regular man with a wingspan nearly double that. She was ordinary, in some sense of the word. Her skin from her neck down was still midnight black, and a few feathers jutted randomly from her exposed flesh, but she was much more woman than bird.​

​

Still, she found herself grateful to slip into the shadow at the back of the main hold, where the other apprentices gathered. Acantha stuck to the darkness. The beauty of her skin meant she became one with it. Back here, she could smell less. Back here, it was easier to distract the eternally burning craving that sat consistently in the pit of her stomach. Father said she must not hurt anyone here, least she incurs his wrath. These people were important to him, in all senses of the word. So, in the shadow, she stayed, as the man with the cloud-white hair began to address the slowly growing group.​

​

Vane.​

​

The name was familiar to the young beast. The very subject of the mission they were all attempting to accomplish. Glass blue eyes darted across the room, coming to land on the hazy figure that flickered wildly in erratic azure flame. A sith pureblood. Acantha could feel her heart fluttering against her ribcage. Such a delicious morsel had never before been placed in the path of her temptation, and it was the only reason she had managed to control her hunger thus far. The promise of something better, something more filling. Something that would sate her burning desire. Acantha hoped that Father would let her devour him when all was said and done. More often than not he needed only the information they kept in their minds. Afterwards, their souls and bodies were fair game, but it was not as though she ever had any competition.​

​

Jean carried on, explaining how they would reach this Vane, and what would happen should they fail. Acantha expected nothing less. In some ways, she mirrored Jean’s thoughts on her training. Acantha had little experience in space and little experience in a uniform like the one she had been forced to try on yesterday. She much preferred her wings. Open skies. Oxygen to breath. Never mind the fact that Father said she would have fire on her heels that would replace her wings and propel her forward. Acantha had frowned at that. Nothing could replace her wings, and she would have much preferred a mode of transport she could control, but there was little choice.​

​

Begrudgingly, the harpy pulled herself away from the wall and dived into the locker rooms where the suit was waiting for her. A trembling servant was stood by her locker, ready to help her don it properly. Acantha could smell his fear. It was as obvious as the stench of sweat that dominated the rest of the ship. Without a word, she stretched her gangly arms out to allow the servant to complete his work. He was lucky, really, that Acantha was not alone. A pre-mission feeding would never go amiss.​

​

When all was said and done, Acantha felt rather like a bulky out of date ship. Her slender tree-like limbs were covered in a thick shell, and the helmet over her head made her feel trapped. Even more so than when the shadow had first been trapped in its fleshy prison. She felt awkward. Bulky and clumsy as she left the locker room and made her way to the door that would soon slide open to reveal the empty blackness of space. It was not long before a blaring alarm signalled, dousing the corridor in a crimson bath of flickering light.​

​

Acantha inhaled deeply. The word nervous was unknown to her, but if she had the vocabulary, she would use that word to describe how she was feeling now. How she felt as the door slid open to reveal the sickening lack of nothing that lay beyond. “His Majesty asked me to remind you…” The squeak of the servant’s voice pipped up, barely audible through the thick metal helmet encasing her head. “Accelerate is on the left and decelerate is-...” Acantha nodded, though she was certain it was just her head that had moved and not the suit, so she raised a hand to cut him off. She was already heavily shrouded by her own worries without having to factor in the snivelling voice of fear trembling beside her.​

​

Hesitation was not in her vocabulary either, and neither was failure, so Acantha did what she had to do. Her stomach fell to the bottom of her feet as she made the first step out of the door. She had known not to expect floor beneath her, but the sudden reality was harsh and jarring. At least she did not fall. She floated a little, then began to turn, like a fish with one fin trying to swim around a bowl. Left for accelerate. The quivering voice of the servant echoed in her mind, and much like the voice of the speakers in her room, Acantha obeyed. A sudden burst of energy erupted from the heel of her boots, sending her shooting toward the asteroid.​

​

Kriff.​

​

It had not done this when she practised back on Illyria. The fire boots had not shot her so far forward, so quickly, that Acantha could barely make out which way was up, and which was down. All she could tell was that the surface of the asteroid was coming toward her at an alarming speed. Decelerate is…. The voice stopped. Acantha had cut it off. All she could do now was prevent herself from serious injury that would put her out of action. So she stretched her arms out to meet the ground as it rushed up to meet her.​

​

The first thing she heard was a deafening crunch as she smacked into the solid rock. The next thing was a piercing sound that ripped through her ears, followed by a searing white-hot pain. ​

​

Acantha cursed in fluid Illyrian, intermingled with a few choice words of the ancient Sith dialect that had birthed her. Neither caring nor realising that the commlink in her suit was active. Long, gangly limbs untangled themselves from the impossible heap they had landed in. What a foolish idea this had been, she should have insisted upon her own wings. With a grim expression, Acantha shifted her body an inch or two to assess the damage. Broken bones. An almost unbearable pain coursed its way through her muscles and veins the moment she moved. She tested each limb out as she unknotted herself. Not her legs, fortunately. A broken leg for Acantha would have been a death sentence. As her arms pushed up against the grey, dusty ground, Acantha was made aware of what had snapped on landing.​

​

An arm. She rose the offending appendage to eye level. It hung freely in the spacesuit, like kindling in a hessian sack. This would not do.​

​

She could neither see nor hear the others yet, so Acantha set to work on fixing it. All she could recall was the way Father had summoned the dark side to heal him, when he had first breathed life into her, and she had rewarded him by puncturing his skin. Acantha did something of a similar nature here. She called upon the dark side to come to her air, to knit the shattered edges of the bone together once again. She could not see it in action, but she could certainly feel it against her skin. Cold, impossibly so. Unforgiving as it wound its way around her forearm, leaving its sickly marks upon her flesh. It was a temporary fix, and Acantha was certain that it had not healed in the right way, but it would do for now. The pain, on the other hand, remained.​

​

Pain was advantageous, and Acantha let it brew in the pit of her stomach. By the time they reached their goal, it would be a blazing inferno of power. Ripe and ready for the taking.​

​

 

[The High Court of Illyria]

Tags: Xobos Yakieer | Caelyn Malkavian | Echo Vesulos | Alida Ember | Acantha Malvern
Location: The Whisper [Stealthed]
Pov: Jean de'Luo

​

There was an uncertain expression that crossed Jean's face as he looked among the women who had been assembled. He was still uncertain if this team was ready to deploy. No, that would be a falsehood, he was positive that this team should not deploy. Aside from a general lack of team unity, they all had their own quirks that could prove...distracting. The Keeper placed a gloved hand over his lips as he stood in complete silence, watching as the group began suiting up. He said nothing, he merely watched the display. Soon enough there was a soft beeping to come from the holocomm embedded in his wristlet. He glanced down at the small green light that showed they were drifting closer to their target destination.

Finally he placed his arms at the small of his back, turning towards the ship's cockpit. Settling into the pilot's seat, his eyes took in the large asteroid that the ship was drifting over. They could not risk using their boosters to slow the ship, so the drift past the rock would be a rather fast one. As such, Jean began speaking into the ship's intercom with the same rehearsed tone he always used. "Once we are in position you will have less than five seconds to depart the ship. If you miss this window then you run the risk of missing the asteroid entirely. Remember, your jets have limited use, use them wisely." He advised, before taking hold of the controls and craning them to the left, trying to level the ship out a bit more.

The compound itself was just barely visible, however Jean did what he could to bring them as close as possible.

"Prepare to launch." Jean said, tapping a number of buttons on the terminal before him.

In the rear of the ship, the team was being directed to a hold of the ship. They were sent through a set of pressure doors, however the moment they heard Jean's preparatory command the latches surrounding them would give a hiss as the air was sucked from the sealed room. The rear door slowly came open, revealing the asteroid below. The flight officer in the next room flipped a switch, causing an alarm to echo out in the chamber. With the alarm, the team was deployed into the depths of space.

​

The Sisters of Death would land upon the asteroid, some more successfully than others, yet what they would see now would baffle them. The compound they were searching for was incredibly difficult to spot, even though it was only a few yards from where they had landed. The outer walls were coated in an odd material that was applied with the sole purpose of camouflage. The Sisters would look around, but the ship that had dropped them off was nowhere to be found, only darkness. That being said, Jean's voice would ring in their helmets. "You only have a short supply of oxygen, so I suggest you work quickly to find an avenue of entry."

There were two viable options to the Sisters. They could utilize a lightsaber or explosive to blow open a piece of the compounds paneling and enter that way or they could search for an entrance, attracting less attention. Either way, time was not on their side.

​

 

[Tireya Syvare]

Location: Abraxas’ Atmosphere
Objective: Follow the Nightmother’s Direction
Tag: Vytal Noctura | Open​

Tireya could not deny the Nightmother’s words internally even if she didn’t fully comprehend the ones that were spoken. Yet, she held an amount of respect for the woman that had torn her away from such pain and misery as she felt upon the plains of a home whose people would not accept her. Demon! Sithspawn! Witch! Those were but a fraction of the names and titles she had picked up in her years there. And none held a particularly favorable sway. And all signed the proclamation of her condemnation. Funny how things came full circle. Now the witch was celebrated and embraced. The Nightmother had given her that much even if there had been little to no direct interaction between the two to this point.

As Vytal questioned Tireya of her particular preferences in this tasking, she would find herself speechless. Without an answer in hand to be spoken or shared. That, however, would not abate the input of Valyra as he voice once more moved to fill the young witch’s subconscious. “The age old illusion of choice, my dear.” The spirit’s voice then fell silent for a moment before it would continue once again. “There are many paths, yet all lead to the same eventuality. One cannot deny their destiny, my child, and yours lays brilliantly in front of you.”

Tireya’s body physically tensed and Valyra cast her mind into the shadowy abyss once again. Always challenging and manipulating her, playing the tune of her naivety and inexperience. “Our fates are but two strands spun into the same thread,” Tireya mumbled under her breath, casting her own attempt of a challenge to Valyra.

Her eyes then rose to meet those of the Nightmother. How much choice was her elder truly giving her? “Just as the blade thirsts for vengeance and blood, so too does the mind for knowledge and divination.” Tireya paused and cast an absent gaze beyond the mortal flesh of the woman before her. “I’m but a mere initiate upon this path you’ve laid out before me. Untrained and unpredictable. Is it so wise as to leave me without a guiding hand?”

 

[Aleksandr Kerensky]

Location: Abraxus System, entering close combat with enemy fighters and bombers
Vessel: Star Destroyer Hope, full complements of Dragon Fighters and War Hound Drop Ships
Objective: Kill 'em all, let God sort them out
Tags: G 3 M 1 N 1 Verin Oldo Kiff Brayde Anashla Deshal Domino Dubose Amelia von Sorenn

Hope had made it almost half way by the time the bombers appeared on scopes. Echo teams would call out over the bridge that these fighters and bombers, which had been using the asteroids to mask their signatures, were now appearing seemingly from nowhere. It had been a trap all along, the Valor was put out as bait. Kerensky could only sit in watch with a silent grim expression that bellied his utter hatred for these people. Valor had clearly been defenseless after the initial strike, and they had waited until the CAF proper showed up with its navy. A move that he'd accounted for and clearly his opponent had as well. Black Squadron just cleared the hangar bay as the contacts were bearing directly on them, attacking from above and using the asteroids as cover to try and launch an attack run on the clearly out of place Star Destroyer class vessel. And as he heard the dying screams of those men and women aboard the Valor, Kerensky would only smile to himself as he knew the mindset of these pirates would be that they would catch two birds easily with one well laid trap.

Except Kerensky had accounted for this from the beginning.

"Get me a tight beam to the High Marshal, get Red Squadron back here, gunners you know your assignments,"

"Aye sir,"

"High Marshal Anashla Deshal , Kerensky. It would seem that our friends in system set up a little dinner party for us. Send whatever fighters you can, but Hope is going to continue pressing forward. We've sprung their trap, and now we're going to root out this little band once and for bloody all. Kerensky out," he would switch to company comms through his ship mounted Wind Talker Comms so he could speak directly to the fighter wings they had launched. Gold Squadron was still in the launch bay, but it would not matter. The squadrons would only be needed to clean up the mess, and drive them back once Hope had broken off the spearhead of this assault.

"Red and Black Squadron, move to Nav Point 216, galactic north of our position. Wait for our signal, you shall be the Hammer that breaks up the remains of this little flotilla, Hope shall be the Anvil,"

He wouldn't wait for the response as the various gunners and Electronic Warfare personnel were communicating back and forth across his bridge. The fighters and bombers would be quite effective in an asteroid field if they had elected to just try and shoot them, but Hope wasn't the standard CAF space vessel. She was of The Dire Wolves, created to be a top of the line one of a kind Star Destroyer manned and operated by the best and brightest the galaxy had to offer, and commanded by a razor sharp mind in one Aleksandr Kerensky. He had trained them to be much better than this, and so gunners would stick to predetermined engagement vectors, setting up overlapping fields of fire as turbolasers focused fire on specific asteroids, knocking larger ones off course and splitting smaller ones into deadly fragmentation. His Ion cannons would fire in predetermined vectors designed to herd the enemy fighters give them easy avenues of approach while cutting off other paths entirely or being disabled by the capital ship grade weapons. Deimos Point Defense Laser Cannons fired across the vessel, choosing specific targets of opportunity and making sure that disabled fighters hit by ion cannons or those that slipped past turbolaser fire were immediately annihilated. But all of this was a setup for something Kerensky had hidden up his sleeve.

Echo Teams began the process of locking up all of the various signatures coming from the vessels, feeding it to various SIM-1 missiles across multiple launchers across the ship, giving the missiles targeting data on the thermal signatures, electromagnetic emissions, even visual data so the missiles would know exactly what they were looking for. One by one the various bombers and fighters would be targeted, their markers closing in on Hope around several projected circles. One of the circles was their effective engagement range with their capital ship killer munitions. The other was the engagement range set for the Mjolnirs by the various Echo Teams as the best shot they had at killing as many of the would be pirates in the opening salvo.

"Sir, tracking all bogeys, birds await the call,"

"Wait for it,"

"Sir, total count of vessels appears to be three squadrons each, Y-Wings modified, X-Wings also modified,"

"Wait for it,"

The markers would get closer, Hope rising to meet them as the Y-Wings would be no doubt prepping their own targeting computers or opening bomb bays to prepare to drop proton bombs. Kerensky would patiently wait, sitting in his command chair with his hands folded. If they took the shot too soon, they risked giving the bombers a chance to readjust their attack vectors and go evasive. If they fired too late, the Deimos gunners would have to contend with whatever ordinance those birds were carrying, which Kerensky didn't want to have to flex over gunners like that. He would have to shoot at precisely the right moment. And the moment the markers touched the outer bubble Kerensky's voice would be calm, almost cold as he spoke the command to his gunnery crews.

"Fire,"

​

In unison, all ten Mjolnir turrets would simply raise their guns on their assigned shooting vectors and fire. 1.6 meter wide, 5 meter long High Explosive shells would be flung from the massive guns at obscene speeds on their flight paths, catching the fighters and bombers in their death corridors with brutal efficiency. The shells would activate their radar fuses, once coming close enough to something large enough to resemble a fighter in their path detonating with massive explosions designed to wipe out entire squadrons, smiting whomever was unlucky enough to get caught in their path like they'd been struck by a vengeful god. And at the same time, missile bay doors would open and over a hundred SIM-1 missiles would deploy with preset vectors and acquiring their targets seconds after launch. And like clockwork, Red and Black Squadrons would converge on whatever remained after the brutal salvo, using their advanced targeting computers and own missiles to begin to tangle with the enemy fighters before going to laser cannons and guns as they entered the dogfight. The Dire Wolves had a reputation for being some of the fiercest fighters in the galaxy, well proven on the ground and displayed once before in space. Kerensky planned to teach these pirates that they picked a fight with some of the most dangerous men and women of the galaxy. Their motto was to be the best and able to fight anywhere at any time, and Kerensky was going to be damned if he let someone think that his crew was just some run of the mill group you'd find anywhere else. Because The Dire Wolves didn't just deal with problems.

They Attacked Them.​

 

[Cypher Rage]

H E L L F I R E ​

// Location // CNS Hyperion, Abraxus System
// Objective // Eccentric Dose of Humor Engage Enemy Forces
// Siblings-in-Arms // Kiff Brayde | Anashla Deshal | Verin Oldo | Aleksandr Kerensky

Fleet Marshal Cypher Rage gripped the armrests of his command chair tightly as the Hyperion exited hyperspace alongside it's escort fleet. His light skin seemed to glow under the illumination of the bridge, a trait he had come to loathe as it drew more attention to him than required. "Sir, all ships have checked in" the Commander tapped his shoulder lightly, pulling him out of his lucrative trance.

"Good, signal Commander Vaughn to launch fighters and stand by to blow this pop sickle stand"

"Sir?"

He sighed. "Tell him to engage the enemy. After this, you and I are going to have a drink and we are going to get to know each better if this is truly going to work" He stood, brushing his uniform ever so slightly. "Stand by to open fire"

"Aye Sir" The Commander moved to the side, attending to her station and barking orders to the bridge crew.

"Get me High Marshal Bryade and Deshal. Patch in Captain Kerensky as well"

Spoiler: Fleet Composition & TDLR

1x Vicator Class Star Battlecruiser - CNS Hyperion
1x Lucrehulk III Class Super Carrier - CNS Independence II
5x Terrus Class Flak Corvettes - Sword I to V
6x Murkhana-class Escort Frigates - Saber I to VI

Fleet Arrives and Begins Deployment: Cypher Hails Deshal, Brayde, Oldo, and Kerensky

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Location: Abraxas' Atmosphere
Objective: Communion
Tag: Open | Tireya Syvare

"Life is full of choices and change. It is unpredictable, wild, and sometimes foolish," the Nightmother replied calmly after Tireya sought to probe the decision that'd been laid out before her. "You always have a choice, Tireya. Whether to listen to yourself or those around you. Some choices you will find wiser than others, but not always before they are made. It is the greatest teacher -- failure -- and the most memorable." And certainly not always the most pleasant.

"Come," Vytal turned to stride down a corridor. "We will commune with the spirits to find where our foes hide, and put today's affair swiftly behind us. And in so doing provide you a measure of training you lack." Seeing as Tireya was not prone to dash off at the first invitation to battle, it seemed a choice had already been made. Even if Tireya had yet to acknowledge it herself. This pleased the Pale Witch.

Nightsisters did not believe in "safety nets," as offworlders called them. No, they weren't heartless nor did they place a life at risk for entertainment; but neither did they coddle or shield youth from experiencing the world for what it was -- dangerous, even savage. Admittedly because Dathomir was an untamed land that the Witches saw little need to change. It suited them.

Perhaps some other day Tireya would tickle the Rancor and see if her legs were strong enough and fast enough to elude death's grasp.

Vytal would lead the way to a chamber that had been prepared for the occasion. An altar had been set up with cloth and candle light while the artificial lighting had ben extinguished. There was nothing less pleasant during a ritual than the ever present, stark light offworlders favored so much. Under certain conditions the Witch would try to arrange for a room with a view to the nearest star. It just seemed better suited to communing with spirits.

"Have you spoken with spirits before?" Her eyes regarded the markings atop the altar, the bowl, and the blade as she asked of Tireya's personal experiences.

 

[Cali Ziiva]

Location: The G.C.S. Couverture, Bridge
Coordinates: Abraxas System, Empty Space
Objective: Investigate a Mystery

With a fist held high, Cali ordered the ship to move in on the localized disturbance further out from the asteroid field. A face-splitting grin sparkled before the void as the vessel veered away.

As they closed in on the probe's last known position the Couverture slowed to a stop well short of the location. Sensor sweeps further honed in on the location of the phenomena even as readings continued to remain sparse. QT-314's glowing purple gaze stared into the distance as she poured over the data in the ship's systems, and formulated potential responses to the puzzle before them.

Meanwhile, the pink Captain plopped down in front of a computer to look over the readings as well. "Why not launch a probe and have a collection pod follow behind it? They'd know where the event horizon is and stop short, but within reach to grab it."

QT turned her expressionless head in Cali's direction. "Miss Ziiva, we still do not know how to... grab it."

Well that was true. They'd only just found 'it' and had an idea how not to vanish into the void like the probe had. Still, when did a little challenge ever stop Pink? "So we throw even more scans at it at a close distance. It exists in our dimension, so it has to be affected by something. If it were completely untouchable by known physical laws then it probably wouldn't register at all. Right?"

The two found themselves staring into one another's eyes. A contest that QT always won by virtue of not having eyelids. It never stopped her Mistress from trying. "Speculative, Miss Ziiva. However," as usual, "I cannot say the idea is without merit." Cali's ideas always had a solid grounding in reality no matter how exuberant her pitch was. Most frustrating part of her Mistress, really. Sometimes QT would like to say an idea was simply too far fetched to be worth considering.

A short nod and a smile, Cali always liked when QT could see things her way. "So we'll load the ship up with all the fancy sensor stuff. Oh, even that prototype!" The Zeltron leaped out of the chair and began to dash for the door.

"Miss Ziiva, wait--" Of course the woman didn't listen. QT imagined what it must feel like to sigh sometimes.