Populate The Red War: PORT NOWHERE || CIS Populate of Farboon

[Ascendant Muse]

CHAPTER I: The Red War: Dorvalla​

CHAPTER II: The Red War: Naalol​

FARBOON ORBIT

With so much chaos in the present, it is easy to forget about the past.

Consider the Outer Planets Alliance. They were a unique, unconventional congregation that brought some degree of order to the Western Systems. Across their vast territories, law was very loose - but there was still order. There were some lines that would not be crossed. And with their dissolution, those lines were no longer being enforced. In truth, the region went wild with chaos. Piracy was at an all-time high. The slave trade was booming. All forms of narcotics and other villainous vices were free flowing.

The problem with this reality is that water never stays in one place - unless it is contained.

And like a water, the chaos has spilled out across the hyperlanes. So much so that it crashes upon the shores of the Confederacy's border. This was the beginning of the so-called RED WAR. An effort launched by the nation to quell the Chaos brimming from the region. Whether it be by diplomacy or by the sword, the southern community would not stand for such madness to infect their people. Yet, as the Galaxy's larger - and louder - threats were given their due attention...The effort slowed.

The Red War took a backburner in the realm of Confederate politics. Until now. A routine shipment of Confederate arms had gone dark. Last known location was near the former Outer Alliance world of Farboon. Initial intelligence stated that the planet itself was unremarkable. And yet, somehow, a well-armed convoy went missing in its neighborhood. Upon closer review, the South revealed a damning revelation: Farboon was not silent at all.

In fact, ever since the encouragement of criminal activities upon its surface, the planet had been booming in all the wrong ways. Thus, the Confederacy had to act. Not only to recover their stolen assets, but to prevent such madness from occurring ever again. Order would come to Farboon.

The Red War would start anew.​

Spoiler: Objectives

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -​

Above Farboon now exists an impressive naval presence. As the criminal enterprises have born fruit, the various pirates have pooled their coin to purchase refurbished assets from a bygone area. Centered around several Gladiators, the force is more than enough to overwhelm the average weapons convoy or civilian flotilla. There is no doubt that this formation was responsible for the disappearance of the weapons. And its continued existence will only serve as a threat to Confederate efforts.

It must be eliminated.​

- PORT NOWHERE -​

The surface is a dizzying web of holes for scum to hide in. Yet, to the southern systems' fortune, there is a funnel that can be targeted. Port Hoplite had developed as a smuggler's paradise. A one-stop-shop for vessel repairs, offloading "sensitive" goods, and filling one's gob before returning to the stars. It is here that the weapons were most likely deposited. The Port must be brought under full occupation - or destroyed.​

Spoiler: Tag

Rann Thress
Taiia Locke
Sabine Delacroix
Diocletian Kahmen’’a
Gerwald Lechner
Oleander Webb
Kyyrk Verros
Draelos
Shuklaar Kyrdol
Millu Lee
Srina Talon
Gianna Aegis
Naedira Darcrath
Darth Elyria
Seraphina Corvinus
Alessandra Creed
@Dr. Kitter Bitters
Jason Breaker
BX-4323
Kiff Brayde
Beric Layne
Bastille Rommer
Tarsus Kiyan
Jhira Mereel
Verin Oldo
Hester Shedo
Donne Toulemonde
Tawnita Wren
Pravus Cruento
Felix
Lunara Azure
John Locke
Kitter Bitters
Holly Starstorm
A ARS VAMI
Kristyl Arenais
Vyse de Valorous
Alina Tremiru
@Goozer Lurg
Caedyn Arenais
Kristyl Arenais
Ettiene Kharne

 

[Yeshua]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

The chalice swirled with crimson liquid.

While it would most certainly be frowned upon to indulge on the clock, the beverage within Yeshua's glass was a special case. His appetite was not for the result of the vine - crushed and fermented for his pleasure. But rather, the succulent lifeblood of others. This, too, would be socially unacceptable to acquire by hand. But the von Sorenn lineage was a civilized bunch. Therefore, he was able to whet his appetite with finely procured barrels of product - rather than sinking his fangs into an unsuspecting Cadet.

Years ago, he would have much preferred the hunt.

Yeshua was a reformed creature, you see. Where once he was exactly the same as the scum they flew to address today, he was now a changed man. Redeemed as it were. His lineage went through great lengths to pull him from the spice-filled hovels he called home. They cleaned him up and gave him a single opportunity: Live well, or Perish poorly. Yeshua, being wise despite his appetites, chose the former.

Therefore, he began anew within the reigning government of the region. The Confederacy of Independent Systems. For the eternal, his years of effort went by in the blink of an eye. And he "soon" found himself as a Commander within their Naval Command (NAVCOM). This was actually his maiden voyage as a member of the esteemed admiralty. His first time commanding a literal Star Destroyer. The only problem was the hyperspace storm they encountered on the way here.

Thus, as the CNS Jericho reverted into realspace, alarms were blaring all across the ship. Yeshua calmly sipped his "wine" regardless.

"Helmsman, who is in charge of the repairs?"

"Petty Officer Virlee, sir!" came the frantic reply over the chorus of yelling. "Shields at at minimum, weapons systems aren't responding - it's not looking good."

"All engines to halt. Get me PO Virlee on the line."

From wherever she was in the ship, her comm would ring. The Commander was waiting - and though he was Eternal, his patience was not.​

Finnea Virlee​

 

[Runar Ulfsson]

Port Hoplite, Farboon
OPEN

​

Duran began to make his way to the outskirts of the port, his visor scanning for heat signatures as he made his way past buildings, getting general figures of men and women within their homes going through their daily lives in this hole of the scum of villainy, most likely unable to be able to do much better than that, no ability to leave the hole they had ended up in.

With a warning displayed on his HUD, he came to a doorway to an apparently abandoned building, he placed a charge against the door and waited the few seconds before a puff of smoke erupted from the device and the door creaked open. Swinging around the corner he let out two shots dropping the guard who was there, watching the man crumble to the floor before he could even react. Making his way down the long hallway Duran cleared the rooms as he walked past, stepping over the body of the criminal as he turned to the left towards the only open door.

WARNING, MULTIPLE CONTACTS WITHIN

No chit genuis He thought as his HUD displayed the warning.

Taking quick access at what he was walking into he walked up to the door slammed his foot against the center of it, breaking it off the hinges as he walked through the frame and three shots rang from his weapon, two laid into the unaware man within, the third hit a man on a balcony where he rolled off and hit the bottom floor with a thud.

Without stopping he took a general survey of the room before him, it was a warehouse of some sort, with rows of containers, some his scanners could get a read on, and some they couldn't even penetrate. He took note of the location of the dozen or so criminals that now knew they were in some deep trouble. Taking the best course available he clicked his commlink, "Requesting assistance at my position, found some sort of warehouse on the outskirts of the port." Tapping his commlink off, he didn't wait for an answer as he turned the corner and let off more blaster shots taking another criminal down as he did.

 

[Anashla Deshal]

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Objective: - BLOCKADE NOWHERE -
TAG: Open | Yeshua

The Red War, Anashla remembered it well the Confederacy had begun to extend its reach to quell those who sought to profit from the demise of the Outer Planets Alliance, to bring an end to the slavers and the pirates and all other malcontents that would rise in the power vacuum. War and politics had been what suspended the Red War and allowed the problems to their south to fester out of control. Now they would begin to set things right. The brunette made her way silently from her cabin to the bridge the footfalls of her boots echoed off the durasteel walls while at every turn droids patrolled with the sound of their motivators piercing the silence as well.

The quiet gave way when Anashla stepped onto the bridge the command droid and called out to the mixture of droid and organic crew. "High Marshall on deck!" she lifted a hand to the droid and waved him away as she moved forward to her position forward so she could both see out the window and the sensor data. Outside currently was the swirling void of sapphire and black reminding the crew, if they needed any that they were in hyperspace another voice called out.

"Ma'am, it looks like the Jericho clipped that hyperspace storm on the way in. They have dropped to sublight." brown eyes turned to the droid calling to her regarding the news she sighed somewhat, it would not do to have the Jericho destroyed on its maiden voyage.

"Signal to the fleet reversion from hyperspace on our mark. Start the count" for the first few seconds there was only silence as the ships in her task force coordinated the arrival point. "Reversion in 5, 4, 3, 2" before the droid uttered one the ships began appearing in local space near the Jericho and its commander Yeshua .

One by one the ships began reverting to realspace with some of the smaller vessels moving to guard the Jericho as soon as they were able, the larger vessels took up flanking positions for something much larger. Finally, the Flagship of the Seswenna sector armada emerged from hyperspace, casting a shadow over the smaller vessels in its entourage.

"Reversion complete."

Anashla straightened herself and folded her arms behind her back. "Launch a recon force and get us a good view of the system. Get Yeshua on the line and see if he needs any assistance. Inform the Thoros to cover the Jericho until she can get underway again." Yeshua was not a man that needed to be coddled at this same time competent commanders were in short supply so for the moment she would indulge herself.

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• Flagship:
  • C.N.S. Asajj Ventress
• 117th Heavy Attack Line:
  • 1x Thoros Battle Cruiser
  • 3x Grievous-class Star Destroyers
  • 2x Bonteri Escort Carrier
  • 3x Arjuna Artillery Destroyer
  • 4x Argente Assault Cruiser

Spoiler: Fleet Movement

• Ventress, Grievous class, and the carriers are holding position
• Destroyers, Cruisers, Battle Cruiser guarding the Jericho
• Recon flight launched from the Ventress to patrol the immediate area

 

[Theezo Pierbinn]

​

Personal Ship: The Anarchy
Personal Equipment: Jumpsuit, Enviroweave lined - Spacer Leather Duster, Utility Belt with Quickdraw Holsters, Accuracy Gloves, Kaldrweave Clothing, Adjudicator with Wrist Holster system, Shock Boots with Magno Grip, Vibromachete, Wristband, Knife, Blaster Pistol, Slugthrower Pistol, Beamer
Shipboard Equipment: Hoverbike, Flight Suit, Armor, V-2 Minimech Astrodroid
Location: Port Hoplite, Farboon
Tags: Open

There had been a nagging feeling when the Anarchy had come closer to 'civilized' port to park his happy little smuggler derriere further from town than he typically would. Taking the cargohopper hadn't been a preferred choice, but he trusted his gut on the choice. Something he'd been warned against trusting too often.

But it'd worked out so far for him and why chance it?

Theezo had been waiting for the seller to make their appearance, his spot being last in line after not being present with his ship as the being finally approached and began their final bargaining.

Back and forth the pair had gone as he openly challenged the sale of weapons to any half-legitimate groups being difficult to manage for the lofty price they had offered at the initial meeting. After cutting off nearly a quarter of the price, and exchanging the credits for the cargo in his sidecar, he'd been near to asking about the last crate when blaster fire had drawn everyone's attention from the backside of the warehouse.

Theezo looked around as others scanned the area. The dock master slid the datapad into a pocket before checking a commlink as Theezo secured the final travel lock on his cargo. The dock masters face blanched as he waved his arms and warned of Interference.

Confusion was abound through the other smugglers around Theezo as he kicked the pedal and engaged the repulsor systems. The first one to be scooting away as the loud roar of vessels and assorted bikes came to life at the rear of the warehouse.

His face pressed close to the wind block he had on the cargo hauler, he didn't bother to look back as he pushed the bike to its limits to avoid being the first stopped on his way out. His duster was flapping madly in the wake of his escape, the large trail he left behind him shadowed by the vessel's attempting to spin up and take off at the cargo pad.

 

[Saram Kote]

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Friendly Units: Vuhyr'yalilyr'rammikade squad Davaab​

Tag(s): Runar Ulfsson ​

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Spoiler: Equipment

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• Armor:
  • 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'
  • 'Ysalamiri Birikad' Nutrient Frame
  • Vambrace Weapons:
    • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
    • PC-05V Plasma Caster
      • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
    • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
      • Electro Darts (4)
      • Explosive Darts (4)
      • Surveillance Tagger Darts (4)
    • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
• Implant(s):​
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
  • 'Gar Tkiriyr' Neural Interface
• Melee:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • K-02M Kal (2)
• Sidearm(s)
  • LRH-5A Verpine Shatter Pistol w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-4x Short Range Optic
• Rifle(s):
  • DR-04DB Class-D Disruptor Rifle w/ 1-12x Medium Range Optic and UGL-02 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher
  • AMR-4M Verpine Shatter Anti-Materiel Rifle w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-250x Extreme Range Optic
• Explosives:
  • Det-Packs (2)
  • Flex-5 Detonite Tape (1 roll)
  • Smoke Grenades (3)
  • Flash-Bang Grenades (3)
  • Class-A Thermal Detonator (2)
  • NOVA40 Plasma Grenade (2)

​

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"Moving on target now. Maybe this one'll be more than sorry shabuire [1] and contraband," chimed Ran Netra's voice through her helmet's speakers, only ever so slightly marred by comm static generated by the crowd of comm networks, poorly made and expensive jammers all creating a cacophony of electronic noise that was just enough to be frustrating for longer ranged comms, but not enough to cause problems for short ranged communications. The thought had crossed her mind that it was that way by intention.​

​

"Lek [2]," she intoned quietly into her helmet's mic. It was a short, to the point response, just about what was needed. Ran didn't need to be told what to do, nor did those with him. Micromanagement was the surest sign of a poor leader. She glanced unnecessarily at her half of the squad, her fireteam, "Not going to let them have all the fun, are we vode?"​

​

"Not unless you plan on buying drinks again," quickly fired off Rusana. A chorus of chuckles was echoed by the others in the squad over comms. The silence that followed momentarily was an unspoken agreement to continue moving, and slowly, stealthily, like the dangerous jungle predator of their namesake, the unit moved toward their target, one of many warehouses in the space port that was suspected of housing the stolen weapons they were here to retrieve. If it didn't, then that just meant that their secondary objective of shutting down this den of chaavla [3] chaakare [4] had just presented itself once more. Contrary to what most people believed, criminals usually preferred to stay alive. ​

​

Janar continued put their communications interception and decryption equipment to good use, forwarding bits of intercepted communications to her as they made their way toward their objective. Ran's attack hadn't quite gone unnoticed, but the shabuire had no clue who was responsible. Once their attack hit, and whenever the CIS rammikade made their attack, it'd only sow more confusion and discord among their enemy's ranks. That was going to make them all the easier to deal with. ​

​

Still, they were going to have to be careful. When they found the crate, if they found it, it'd pay to remember that these were likely to be the same shabuire who'd stolen the shabla thing in the first place. Just meant that those shabuire were going to get shot twice as much. Saram dropped to a crouch as they neared, her AMR-4M in her hands as her HUD and optic synced and she got a picture-in-picture view of her rifle's optic in her HUD. Ramshackle structures, people cowering in their homes and oddly enough, the IFF signature of a lone CAF spec ops trooper. ​

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The tell tale signs of an engagement came next. Blaster bolts. The last utterances of men caught unaware. Saram was about to order her fireteam to move in when her comm unit picked up a transmission on one of the freqs used by CAF special forces. "Davaab 6 here, we're in the area. Be with you shortly." Davaab squad, fire team solus snapped into action without needing a further word from their squad leader. Nearly a decade of combined service showed as four heavily armed and armored Mandalorian covert ops rammikade descended on the building on invisible wings of fire. ​

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Optical camouflage was dropped as they stormed the building, Saram and Rusana from the bottom, Jaing and Janar from the bottom. Short range comm jamming went live before the first shot from Rusana's BR-6B Verpine Shatter Battle Rifle dropped one of the shabuire. Another's torso was turned to mist as a Verp round from her AMR-4M hit a target far less resilient than it was designed to engage. Jaing's PC-02 Pulse Cannon whined, a trio of fusion plasma bolts dropping another and masking the cry of the man it dropped. ​

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Four shields winked out, hasty return fire skipping off beskar plates as the four Mandalorians moved far quicker than they should have been able to in armor, moving quickly into cover. Optical camouflage suites kicked in once more, rendering the Mandalorians who were now hidden behind cover into ghostly phantasmal silhouettes. ​

​

Saram quickly checked the area for the IFF of the CAF commando nearby, and breathed a silent sigh of relief as she saw that it was still transmitting. "Still with us, Corporal Carr ( Runar Ulfsson ) ?" she asked over the same frequency that he'd transmitted over. ​

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[1] Shabuire (Shab, Shabla): Extreme insult - jerk, but much stronger.​

[2] Lek: Yeah, but is case is more of a military affirmative response. ​

[3] Chaavla: Rough, unruly, of the criminal underclass (by Mando standards, which is very rough indeed).​

[4] Chaakare (Plural of Chaakar): Corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse.​

 

[Kaira Vinesse]

Don't Get Dead

POST: 1
TAG(S): Runar Ulfsson | Saram Kote | Open

Farboon wasn’t the kind of place Kaira could ever picture herself settling into. It was too wild. Too congested. Or at least this area was. And it was dirty as trash and filth seemed to litter every street and alley. There was even a repugnant odor that hung noxiously in the smog laden air that surrounded them all. It was times like these that Kaira praised the ingenuity of the manufacturers that had created her special forces armor for incorporating a filter system into the suit’s helmet. Whereas its intention had been to filter out toxins and other hazardous agents, it seemed to do a fair enough job with limiting smells as well.

Kaira had her rifle wracked across her chest from its sling and her sidearm holstered securely along her left hip as she was left handed. Her gaze was ever vigilant through her helmet’s heads-up display as it highlighted the area around her and even identified different targets and designated them based upon threat level. Red would mean enemy. Amber, neutral. And blue, ally or friendly. It would appear as a bold outline among any target. And as the team constantly had an embedded locator system within the armor that synced between each member, Kaira had been able to keep track of @Duran Carr’s position, even as fell out of visual range.

Because of this, Kaira had not been too far away from Duran’s position when his call had come for assistance. In fact, she hadn’t been far from the small team of Mandalorians in the area either as she found herself on a rooftop just due east of their position and north of Duran’s. As the return response came from the nearby Mandalorian team that identified themselves as Duvaar 6, Kaira listened. These were indeed the group of Mandalorians on the side of the Confederacy and aiding them with their Red War efforts to expunge organized crime whenever and wherever it could. But starting at one’s own borders certainly made the most sense.

With a smile veiled behind the hardened form of her helmet, Kaira spoke, though this link would only be shared between the members of her team. “Don’t you dare make me stitch you back together again.” There was a playfulness, yet a hint of seriousness to her words as she spoke. In all honesty, there would be much she could do if Duran managed to suffer any injury too critical in nature. Her duties were that of the battlefield medic. She was that first line assessment and aid administration effort. The one that made sure you could make it to the real doctor back home.

She then moved to the open communications change that had been addressed originally. “Duran,” she started, “be there soon. Just don’t die on me.” Her gaze flitted over to where she had manage to see the Mandalorian group briefly before but failed to pinpoint their position now as they had moved. “Looking at about thirteen hostiles in the warehouse on the harbor side. Ten in the warehouse on the city side. Gods be with you and see you soon. Corporal Vinesse out.”

With that she, began to move.
​

​

 

[Vorn Kessig]

Tag(s): Anashla Deshal | Yeshua | Open

While the embers of the Red War had been given life once again, so too had a new alignment of the Confederacy’s armed forces. With the rash of resignations in the wake of the failures of Rhand, there were many new faces in new places. One of which was Vorn, who found himself swiftly promoted from his previous post as a rather new Fleet Marshal to his current position as the High Marshal of the Yesmireen sector, the northernmost sector of Confederate space. Organizational command structures were still being solidified and leadership vision statements instilled when the call had arisen from the Presidium of the operations to take place on Farboon.

A seemingly lawless world of scum and villainy, Farboon had placed itself in the crosshairs of the Confederacy when a certain force decided it was in their best interest to lay claim to something that simply wasn’t theirs. And while they may have scored a small victory with the capture of the convoy that carried a certain cargo bound for Confederate space, what they obviously had failed to account for was that the Confederacy wouldn’t waste any time to reclaim what was rightfully its own. And to ensure the safe return of its people to the embrace of their loved ones. People with which they’d already seen themselves separated from for far too long.

However, the armada of the Yesmireen sector was not in route to the operations on Farboon. At least not yet. But they stood ready to assist at a moment’s notice should the call ever be made.

Vorn sat at the desk within his private chambers, mulling over countless documents and profiles. Applications for various positions throughout the sector had been being placed continuously, with many the young and ambitious officers and enlisted members striving to see their station elevated. In fact, the Vorn had yet to select the Master Chief Petty Officer that would serve as the senior enlisted advisor of the entire sector. A position that only a select few could ever truly fill.

A moment more passed, before a bell chimed, signaling the arrival of a new packet of information. Only this time, it wasn’t over a new batch of applications, but from the efforts set in motion in the Farboon operation. A freak Hyperspace storm had struck an unsuspecting vessel, the CNS Jericho, and repairs were under way already. It was an unfortunate unfolding of events to start, but at least the casualty report still showed a blank docket.

Vorn shifted a moment and then opened a direct commlink to the High Marshal of the Seswenna sector, and commanding Naval officer of the operation, Anashla Deshal . “I’m tracking a single command ship forced out of hyperspace early. Should you need assistance, Yesmireen stands ready. Otherwise we’ll have the welcome home ready for your swift victory.”​

 

[Yeshua]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

Whilst the CNS Jericho underwent repairs, the Commander awaited a reply from the Petty Officer: Finnea Virlee .

Thus far, the line had been silent. No doubt this was a testament to the extent of the damages. Were it as simple as flipping a couple switches and taping some wires together, they would be combat ready again in mere moments. A centering breath filled the man's lungs. The PO would have the time she needed - there would be patience aplenty this day.

"Sir! The High Marshal's fleet has arrived."

"Excellent." came the Vampyre's response. He finished off his "beverage" of choice with a few hearty swigs before depositing the glass on the floor beside him.

"Receiving transmission...reinforcements inbound while the repair is ongoing. High Marshal is also ringing through."

"On screen."

Yeshua straightened his posture and rendered a firm salute as his superior officer dominated the main display. "High Marshal Deshal, your assistance is greatly appreciated." he began. "Status is still pending. Shields are compromised, weapon systems are down. We only have two squadrons available until we're back up and running."

He parted his lips to speak more - but was nearly rocked off of his feet. Turbolaser fire from the amassed Gladiator-class Star Destroyers had begun to ring out from Farboon. And while the blows were not enough to scuttle their vessel, their limited shields could only do so much.

Yeshua grit his teeth.​

Anashla Deshal | Vorn Kessig​

 

[Runar Ulfsson]

Objective: S U R V I V E
Location: Port Hoplite, Farboon
Tags: Saram Kote , Kaira Vinesse, OPEN

"Davaab 6 here, we're in the area. Be with you shortly."

"Copy that Davaab 6, I am under fire from dozen-plus contacts, pinned down on the Northeast side of the warehouse, unknown contents inside containers." Duran heard the blaster fire hit against the metallic container, the clang as the energy hit the other side filling his ears. He heard shouts but he couldn't make out what language it could be, even his HUD was having a hard time displaying what language it could be. chit.

“Don’t you dare make me stitch you back together again.”

This he heard Kaira come over their personal channel, the sounds of blaster fire ringing against the side of the container, letting out a few shots back before he ducked behind a different container, kneeling down as he grabbed something from a pouch strapped to his chest.

"I don't intend on making you work hard today, but you might wanna tell that to the other guys." He muttered over their squad comms as he took the device from his pouch and chucked it onto the catwalk, a few loud beeps before the detonator erupted at the feet of a pair of pirates.

"I don't plan on dying yet, but argh." Rounding the corner he took a few shots at another pirate before he felt two shots hit against his armor, one shot being blocked by the protection and the other one hitting the weak spot under his armpit, swinging back as he groaned grabbing his arm, taking cover once more.

Feeling his armpit he saw the blood on his glove, with a grunt he stabbed some bacta into the open wound between clenched teeth groaning. Hearing the footsteps come nearer he sighed grabbing his rifle about to fight another criminal before he heard a blaster shot and a thud near him. Taking a deep breath he looked over and on his HUD and saw the outline of a squad of Mandolorians.

He breathed a quick sigh of relief as the bacta hit his system and he stood back up and scanned the room, there were still plenty of targets to take care of for the whole group.

 

[Finnea Virlee]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

Whilst the CNS Jericho underwent repairs, the Commander awaited a reply from the Petty Officer: Finnea Virlee .​

​

Thus far, the line had been silent. No doubt this was a testament to the extent of the damages. Were it as simple as flipping a couple switches and taping some wires together, they would be combat ready again in mere moments. A centering breath filled the man's lungs. The PO would have the time she needed - there would be patience aplenty this day.​

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"Sir! The High Marshal's fleet has arrived."​

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"Excellent." came the Vampyre's response. He finished off his "beverage" of choice with a few hearty swigs before depositing the glass on the floor beside him.​

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"Receiving transmission...reinforcements inbound while the repair is ongoing. High Marshal is also ringing through."​

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"On screen."​

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Yeshua straightened his posture and rendered a firm salute as his superior officer dominated the main display. "High Marshal Deshal, your assistance is greatly appreciated." he began. "Status is still pending. Shields are compromised, weapon systems are down. We only have two squadrons available until we're back up and running."​

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He parted his lips to speak more - but was nearly rocked off of his feet. Turbolaser fire from the amassed Gladiator-class Star Destroyers had begun to ring out from Farboon. And while the blows were not enough to scuttle their vessel, their limited shields could only do so much.​

​

Yeshua grit his teeth.​

Anashla Deshal | Vorn Kessig​

It wasn't only Commander Yeshua's maiden voyage, as Petty Officer Finnea Virlee had never been onboard any Star Destroyers herself. As an saboteur and a target for the Sith, Finnea had quickly found her way into the Confederacy of Independent Systems and was given an oportunity to show what she was good for as an Engineer for the Naval Command.
Being quite skilled, she hadn't been too worried until she realized just where she was boarding: CNS Jericho.

It had taken her ages to figure out the outlay of the ship, reading up on what technology exactly laid behind these panels and weapon systems but she had managed to get enough information to feel confident again.
Until they hit the hyperspace storm.
Not being quick enough to secure herself as the alarms of the incoming storm rang, Finnea had found herself being thrown around one of the workshops, only just managing to secure herself for the worst part of the ride.

Now that CNS Jericho had reverted to real space, it seemed there wasn't one alarm that wasn't calling for her attention. Her own comm, situated at her wrist was going nuts and she hit the reply but with no luck, it wouldn't let her respond. "Great" she hissed at it. Luckily, her headpiece was still working, showing her where the biggest problems were situated.
She could choose between reporting back right away or give them something to sweat about for five minutes while she organized to have the lesser problem fixed first - getting the shields to respond. A team of quick working engineers took the task of finishing the codes and repairs to have the shields at full capacity.

The second big issue however were far worse, and now she could probably not get out of having the Commander hanging any longer. She found one of the internal comms and called up to the bridge, reporting her rank and surname.

"Petty Officer Virlee reporting, sir." Her voice slightly annoyed that she even had to spend time reporting. "The shields are nearly ready and a team has been set to look into the weaponary systems. But sir, judging by the code of error, it will not be easily repaired. I need more time-"

She felt the ship rock, nearly loosing her balance, cursing badly as she knew time was not on her side. "5 minutes" was the last thing she said before she hung up rather abruptly.

 

[Anashla Deshal]

​

​

Objective: - BLOCKADE NOWHERE -
TAG: Open | Yeshua

Brown eyes watched as Yeshua gave his report, it wasn't anything too bad. At least that was what she was thinking when the first volley of turbolasers struck the Jericho, sending Yeshua staggering if he could manage to see her face as the turbolasers impacted he would see the legendary temper of the High Marshall as anger flashed in her eyes before she turned and began barking orders to her crew.

"Put us between the Jericho and those star destroyers! If they want to shoot something let them try us. Align all batteries and commence fire. Increase output to the maximum and target the lead vessel." the lumbering titan began to move as its engines roared to life, likewise she rolled slightly to align all her dorsal batteries on the star destroyers. Every single battery of the Ventress was soon sending superheated plasma into the lead ship of the pirate formation. At the same time several of her ion railguns aligned and began to fire as well. This was starting to have a similar feel to Abraxis and she was not about to have that. Though unlike then she now had the Ventress at her command.

"Have our escorts launch their fighter screens and maintain a defensive watch. They are weapons-free when those destroyers come into range. And launch our bombers and fighters immediately."

She turned back to the holo of Yeshua, her eyes still having a deadly edge to them. "We will buy you the time you need Commander, keep me apprised if you need further assistance." she stepped away from the holo turning to the nearby tactical readout, she was not here to play fair she was her to end a threat. "Scan the surface find me their command and control, track any high gain signals from the planet or anywhere in the system not squawking a Confederate IFF. I want a target. NOW."

Spoiler: Fleet Composition

• Flagship:
  • C.N.S. Asajj Ventress
• 117th Heavy Attack Line:
  • 1x Thoros Battle Cruiser
  • 3x Grievous-class Star Destroyers
  • 2x Bonteri Escort Carrier
  • 3x Arjuna Artillery Destroyer
  • 4x Argente Assault Cruiser

Spoiler: Fleet Actions

• Ventress and escorts moving to shield the Jericho from incoming fire.
• All star destroyers are launching fighters. Ventress is launching fighters and bombers
• Destroyers, Cruisers, Battle Cruiser guarding the Jericho
• Task Force is actively scanning for command and control for the pirate forces, triangulating burst transmissions not coming from CIS IFF

 

[Ascendant Muse]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

It was called the Defiance.

Oddly fitting, given the circumstances. It had taken a pile of credits and a stack of favors to have the beauty towed back to Farboon. Even more funds to get her back up and running. But, for the first time in a decade, the Corsair had a place to call home. It was monumental compared to the hovels and hideaways he frequented. 600 meters of pure ass kicking. He could launch raids from this. Steal convoys with ease. And when it was time to lay low, all he had to do was park somewhere quiet. Sure, there was a ton of maintenance, but that's what the good Ports were for.

Seemed everyone had the same idea nowadays, given how much coin was lining their pockets. Above Farboon was a gaggle o' ships. And right now, they had some serious fight on their hands.

From his command throne, Larsa sucked his teeth. "We ain't been running slaves, why're they here?" he asked. The display before him was dotted with the faces of the other corsairs in the air. A trandoshan grunted a reply. "Rumor has it the last big shipment was from the 'Feds."

"Yer tellin' me one of yous had the stones to rob the 'Feds?"

He leaned back in his seat.

"Yer all fething mad. But I ain't dying today. Not for yous. Not for anyone."

His dominant hand rose and moved in a circle. The rest of the gaggle nodded or grunted in agreement. This wasn't their mess - but they weren't going down easy. At once, the Broadsides formed a line and locked on. Across the gap, the largest of the ships was moving into position. And given the sheer girth of the beast, there was no point in trying to pick at it. So, they went for the next best thing. Hundreds of concussion missiles, paired with a fresh salvo of turbolaser fire, thundered forth - attempting to batter the Grievous-class Star Destroyers into submission.

Meanwhile, Larsa begrudgingly typed a missive to his hangar crew.

WARM UP THE UGLIES.

Spoiler: Tag

Anashla Deshal | Yeshua | Finnea Virlee | Vorn Kessig

Spoiler: Fleet Comp

Gladiator-class Star Destroyers (6)
Broadside-class Cruisers (9)
Corona-class Frigates (4)
Vigil-class Corvettes (9)

​

 

[Yeshua]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

At long last, the report came in.

With a nod to the helmsman, the call from the lower levels was put through. Petty Officer Virlee gave her status - and the edge in her voice was a testament to how chit their situation was. There would be those who would be a stickler for military decorum and tact. Yeshua was not one such. He'd much rather their vessel be returned to fighting condition than worry about one's tone.

The good news was, the shields were nearly ready. "Excellent work Petty Offic-" he began, but was interrupted by the turbolaser impacts. She needed more time, so Yeshua kept it simple. "You'll have your time."

Five minutes on the clock. The line went dead.

Now settled, the Commander returned his attention to his superior on the main screen. He could see the fury in her eyes, and marveled as she was willing to place her own vessel in the line of fire to protect his own. "Aye High Marshal." came his reply. He ultimately settled back upon his command throne and inhaled a calming breath.

"Prep the fighters for launch. In five minutes, we can bite back."

Anashla Deshal | Vorn Kessig | Finnea Virlee​

 

[Var Talon]

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

Aboard the CNS Jericho...​

​

Officially speaking, the Obsidian Knight was the furthest thing from an armed forces member. But that didn't stop the ashen-haired Echani from getting aboard anyway. For one, he flew in alongside one of the nation's best pilots - one Sylvia Alvaro . Two, he looked the part. His typical civvies had been swapped for an official flightsuit with all the digs. And three, his past manifested in the form of sticky fingers. It didn't take much to pilfer an ID off of a drunken soldier at the last port.​

​

Now why did he go through all this trouble?​

​

The reasons were twofold.​

​

On the one hand, the sparks that had rekindled between the Echani and the Pilot were...consistent. What had previously driven a wedge between them was addressed. And upon the sandy shores of a distant world, they at least got on the same page. The feelings of the past hadn't waned at all. And Var had told her to go purely to keep her safe. That wasn't the end to how he felt or what he wanted. Far from it. Because of how he felt, he needed her to survive the hells of their past. And she did. Thus, it could be said that he wanted to spend as much free time with her as possible.​

​

The other reason...motivated them both. Farboon wasn't just a hovel of scum and villainy. According to his ear on the ground, there were names being thrown about that they recognized. Names from their old gang. Names that should have long since been dead. Closure was the name of the game today. And thus, when the Commander gave the order to prep the fighters, Var sat up. Prior to this, they were lounging in Sylvia's quarters, awaiting the order to fight. On the way to Farboon, the vessel had run headfirst into a hyperspace storm. Systems were fried - and there were no engineers.​

​

No point in doing anything else save waiting it out.​

​

"Looks like it's showtime." he said, setting his feet on the floor. "Ready?"​

Sylvia Alvaro​

 

[Diana Sophistica]

Diana Sophistica

Location: Port Haplite, Farboon
Tags: Abel Denko + open
Ship: "The Red Hare"
Equipment: Prosthetics, Armor (Dark Cloak armor), Diana original lightsaber +attachment rods.
Objective: Port Nowhere
Inspirational music

It was warm inside the ship. The Red Hare was a ship she helped build, she sustained it at all times where she could and did she not wish she had installed a better cooling system. Her outfit left much to be desired. She flew in what could only be described as a mechanics hand-me-down. A filthy stained pair of pants, far too big for the woman, despite an impressive nearly 2 meter length she had. It looked like a somewhat comfortable garment, if not for the holes at the knees and chins and the slight rugged fabric where extra pockets were sown in. No it wasn't pretty. The tank top that adorned the woman's torso helped very little with it. While it hid very little of her muscular body, it also didn't do a proper job hiding her scarred flesh. Many deep wounds and scars riddled the left side of her body. The most striking thing about her would likely be a mix between two things, the metal that functioned as her left limbs, or her bright red hair with emerald eyes beneath them. As it stood however, she was just about as close to a mechanic in appearance as she could be. No fiery red hair, only greasy black streaks.

She approached the space she was bound for, Port Haplite on Farboon. She had never been there but her mission was clear. A new knight of the Knights Obsidian... she wanted to proof herself worthy of the title. Her breath escaped her with a soft sigh as she stood up and readied herself against the chair. The mechanical components of her leg and arm whirring into life and starting the process of making her movements natural again. She went to her quarters, having set the computer to auto pilot as best it could. Washing the stains off her, and walking to her armoury to pick the outfit best suited for the job at hand. Her eye fell on her 'Dark Cloak'. It had protective lining, and should function well for the purpose at hand. A deep breath as her lengthy process of dressing in the many layers of leather and armour started. The red lining of the cloak given a flourish that is matched by her hair's colours. It hid her prosthetics fairly well, and with the exception of her damaged eye and the scars on the left of her face, she seemed like a simply beautiful woman. Her fair skin contrasting to the dark black of the outfit. With her mind she reached out to the object on her desk, the last few parts clasping shut and the lightsaber flew towards her. With one hand she caught it, hooking it to the belt, on a hook behind her hip. Her other hand, the mechanical one, did the same for a deep red wooden staff that she hooked behind her other hip. The two made a whole would she need it, or a blunt weapon should she need it.

Deep breaths, she looked... normal. For once she was ready to see what was going to happen out there. Her eyes softened, they were such bright emerald, and now only one remained as such. The other was clearly damaged. Another deep breath and the universe seemed to breath with her. The force flowed through her and her eye's started to glow with the familiar striking green. Her sight returned in the pair of eyes, oppose to only one. She smiled and nodded, all prepared for the port. Slow methodical steps to the exit were the only hint of her mechanical supports, as one footstep sounded out the metal in the shoe, while the other sounded fair and soft.

"Hare, mission brief on the speakers, repeat"

The ship's speakers started to whizz as the mission brief started to sound over the intercom. Preferably she didn't want to destroy a place... especially if innocent people were in the crossfire. She twiddled with the small silver ornaments in her hair as she listened to the voice. It was a new addition she installed, and it wasn't nearly as neat as she thought it would be. Perhaps a sign of her way of looking at the world, however reading a mission brief still felt... more comprehensible somehow. The cold metallic interior walls did not become any less cold by the voice telling the brief.

"I should remove it... I really should."

Slowly she walked to the guest rooms, they were often home to the many armour sets that Diana would never wear (either because her collecting spree brought clothes too small... or because it simply couldn't do). Her newest, albeit temporary, companion was a man named Abel Denko, a name she found odd but then again 'Sophistica' wasn't any less odd a name. She shook her head, the silver clinking against one another softly as the silver hairs between her red ones shone in the dim light that illuminated the hallways. Finally reaching the door of the man's cabin she knocked with her metal hand, letting a loud knock ring through the door to alarm him of the incoming arrival. Her voice joined in with the echoing noise as the low feminine voice rang with urgency:

"T minus 20 minutes. Mission brief is on the speaker. I'll be in the cargo hold."

She moved to the large open space that the ship held. It wasn't perfect, and sadly it was being used mainly to keep her own materials and provisions. With a gentle whiff of oil in her nose she awaited the arrival. The speakers kept up their briefing until it finally announced the arrival time. The cargo hold opening up when the feet of the white ship with a distinct blue line along its side touched ground. The cargo door, now opened up, made the red haired woman looked to her surroundings in a first sweep. Patiently waiting for her companion to join her she saw a cluster of people outside scurry to the side of the tunnelled mess of a district. Her eyes were overcome by a soft feeling of pity when she realized many people here might not have chosen to live in this way. She focused her eyes, both glowing still with Force Sight, to her companion and spoke with a far kinder tone then before;

"I don't plan to have any casualties, not from our or the opponents side. We can get control here without needing to kill any civilians... But if either of us is attacked, then we will have no choice. Agreed?"

She stood prepared, her weapon of choice unhooked from its clip on her belt and with a soft hum with every move she ensured she was armed in case anything happened.​

 

[Abel Denko]

- PORT NOWHERE -

Abel was alone.

Not in the literal sense, mind. For aboard the vessel he sat within was another occupant. Both souls were headed to Farboon for the mission handed down by the Obsidian Council. However, though the Knight would soon be standing shoulder-to-shoulder with another, he felt alone. The reason? This was the first mission in quite some time that his students were not by his side. Both had tarried on Naboo, as the orders came down rather quickly from the Council. They did not have time to connect - time to form their usual team. And though, given the nature of the mission, it was probably for the best. It still left a pang in the man's chest. He was their mentor. Guide. He wanted to show them every opportunity to grow.

But, perhaps the Force willed that they would be apart this day. After all, Abel was going to be walking into Hell.

The owner of the vessel, one Diana Sophistica , was a newer member of the Knighthood. She was kind enough to allow her comrade to tarry within one of her guest spaces for the voyage. Abel took advantage of this opportunity - first by reviewing the mission details shared by the Confederate Armed Forces. And then by meditating. He had to rid himself of any distractions, lest he be a prime candidate for a body bag when the fighting began. It was not until Diana's knuckles sounded upon the quarters' door that he was roused from the emptying of himself. Standing, the Knight paused only to check over his equipment. Both sabers were affixed to his utility belt correctly. His light-shield was snug upon his forearm. The straps on his cuirass were secure. All was well.

"Right behind you." he called back, before heading into the cargo hold himself.

As he moved, the details he had reviewed were being blasted over the ship's speakers. Essentially, droid forces would be dropping in at nearly the same time as them. The droids would be landing on the far side of Port Hoplite and moving inward. Abel and Diana would drop in closer to the starport. The reason behind the madness? They would stand between the fleeing scum and their escape. In Abel's mind, that meant disabling as many ships as possible as to clog the landing bays. The locals wouldn't be fond of that.

When he eventually stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his peer, he could feel the Force upon her. He lowered himself to a crouch before the vessel's ramp and gazed outward as well. The locals that saw them land scurried inside - like cockroaches when the light was turned on. Abel scoffed. It was just like being back home on Nar Shaddaa. As he ruminated on this, the woman spoke - she intended for this operation to occur as bloodlessly as possible. To this, the Knight said nothing at first. Rather, he reached for the comm upon his belt. With but a touch, he flipped it to the encrypted Confederate channel - there was blaster fire. Their forces were headed to a warehouse on the far side of town. Over a dozen firing at one.

"This isn't a normal world. These aren't normal people." he said. Speaking wholly from being born in streets like these. "My job is to keep you alive and to shut this port down. I won't hold back in doing so." Rising, the Knight reported in over the comm. "This is Obsidian Squad One. We're moving on the port."

"Roger that Squad One" came the answer from the naval forces above. "Infantry units are landing in T-minus three minutes. Get in position."

Abel motioned towards the bustling port with his offhand and jogged down the ramp.

"C'mon. It's about to be a mess down here."

Diana Sophistica | Runar Ulfsson | Kaira Vinesse | Saram Kote​

 

[Rience]

Wearing: Obsidian-type Strike Armor​

- PORT NOWHERE -

Inbound to the Surface...

The ride in would be bumpy.

Unlike most who had flown in aboard shuttles and the like, Rience preferred a drop pod. It was better for insertion into hellish environments - such as a port that needed to be brought to heel. Sure, they'd need to hitch a ride with forces headed home afterwards. But in the moment, the pod would be more than enough. Thus, the Knight had encouraged his partner to join him aboard one of the Confederate naval vessels. And, just as the fighting got underway, he led the way briskly through the corridors.

"Yes, I'm sure this is the best way." he said, answering her objections before she could utter them. Time spent with someone afforded the gift of knowing their most common quips before they popped into the air. And if there was one thing Rience knew, it was what Cordelia Malkavian said when she was displeased. All about them, droids were marching as fast as they could. Manning battlestations and readying fighters to engage the corsair armada.

It was Chaos. But at the very least there would be a moment of calm.

The Knight pulled the fiery-haired woman into the turbolift headed down to the hangar and smashed the close door button. It would be a few moments' ride down, as the vessel they had chosen to board was a bit on the massive side. Thus, with a few precious moments of quiet, Rience leaned against the wall.

"So...come here often?" he said, beaming.

Cordelia Malkavian​

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

Port Nowhere​

​

Tags: Rience ​

How was it that she was continuously talked into these sorts of things? Not the dangers that came with being associated with and apart of the Knights, but the more reckless things that the other Knights just did not seem to do. Yes, the others had their own sense of recklessness, but it was not quite the same as being ushered towards a drop pod rather than rallying with the others aboard shuttles and the like. And yet the redheaded woman found herself keeping pace with her partner despite this fact. ​

​

She had only just opened her mouth to speak when he spoke first, cutting Cordelia's words short and causing her jaw to snap back shut. She huffed a sigh through her nose and her brow creased at the back of his head in what would have been considered a frustrated pout were she anyone else. "I did not say a word." she stated in retaliation, never mind that she only had not done as such because he beat her to it.​

​

But silence drifted over her once more as she continued to follow in his wake. Despite her disliking of this plan, there was never a moment where she did not trust Rience explicitly. And so when he drew her within the turbolift, her body shifted beside his, making sure she was well out of the way for when the door was forced shut and the lift began to descend. ​

​

Again the redheaded woman sighed, though the smallest hint of amusement colored her expression when he spoke out to her once again. Her gaze swept him, just once, and then one corner of Delia's mouth lifted into a smirk. "No," she answered him. "I tend to frequent a lift on the other side of the vessel." ​

​

There never was a dull moment between the two of them.​

​

 

[Diana Sophistica]

Diana Sophistica

​

Location: Port Haplite, Farboon
Tags: Abel Denko + open
Ship: "The Red Hare"
Equipment: Prosthetics, Armor (Dark Cloak armor), Diana original lightsaber +attachment rods.
Objective: Port Nowhere
Inspirational music

It stung, the comment of the man she was working with. She knew it would be better not to think is such terms as 'normal people' when on a mission, but she couldn't help herself. Her life had been relatively good to her and with almost no hardship until her training. She wished that upon everyone, it was the very reason she fought. Thinking she should be able to cut down a few for the many still felt logical, but wrong. She blinked at the man, letting out a sigh and regulated her breathing, the air around her became still and crackled. Her exhale carried a cold air, one she knew all too well. Her specialty within the force was without a doubt force sight and this, her Cryokinisis. The skin on her face turned slightly paler as the temperature regulated once more. Her breath became slow and methodical. Ready for the fight, steeled nerves and looked upon her companion.

He was capable. Far more then she was in some aspects. He had seen things, she knew it the moment she looked upon him. He had a strong build, and hair she honestly thought was pretty. His face was not necessarily one she found appealing but not ugly in the slightest either. It took her but a moment to realize she was staring before she snapped back and responded to the man.

"Indeed, lets go. I'll take the right, in case of separation I have my comm on channel 3."

She took a few careful steps outside the ship. Ensuring she wouldn't stray too far from the companion. 3 Minutes between this moment and the true mayhem. People would run and they would have to ensure as many of them remained here as possible. The better the job they did, the worse it will become afterwards for them. The droids were deployed on the far side of the Port and would herd the people. Or at least ensure by their hands that they couldn't leave. The many curious eyes were looking upon them from their houses. The majority were odd collections of objects that had no business being a building material. Between them you could see boxes containing more 'shiny' objects and wares, that the spying eyes of the woman could identify as metallic wrenches and dismantling tools. These people were surely in the habit of selling the scraps of the objects they found... her Hare would not be one of those. As she stepped off the ramp she waved her hand, twice above her head like a signalling to the computer within the mobile base. It whirred and the ramp closed with a loud hissing of hydraulics.

Some of the houses seemed to hide buildings behind them... surely this couldn't be true. Her eyes scanned the area as she felt it... this was a hive... of people... The better off build their houses behind some of the other less fortunate, their houses obscuring their own from invaders. Letting them get robbed instead of their own... How could someone even consider it? She took another step, scan left, scan right... yep more people then the eye can normally see. She readied her weapon and whispered, within the mind of her companion.

"Be careful... I think we can find the bay beyond the long straight. There are layers to the buildings, beware of unseen assailants."

She pointed between the houses and shacks, with careful planning the movement through it was essentially a straight line towards a t-split. With most other roads seemingly getting narrower, only to end in a dead end. It was with this feeling she focused on her steps. Slowly moving towards the straight she moved the weapon with a pleasant hum to every movement. Its gem was an icy cold blue that could only be described as the sound of crackling water about to be frozen. She looked side to side, as she entered the straight and waned into the dangers of the two man wide road.
​

Runar Ulfsson | Kaira Vinesse | Saram Kote ​