Dominion The Sokolov Compromise | First Order Dominion of Karra

[Resurgent Narrative]

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A slavery operation has been identified on Karra. Intel dispatched a team to infiltrate the operation and gather data regarding the operation and its ties, unfortunately; that team has gone missing. Thankfully we’ve tracked them to what looks to be a holding facility in one of Karra’s massive underground caverns. ​

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Before being captured the team managed to identify the operation’s stronghold, Fort Argos. One of our old bases left over from the Great Galactic War. We’re dispatching military forces to assault the fortress and take it back. This should be enough of a distraction to pull forces away from the holding facility.​

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While the assault is taking place, we’re dispatching our storm commandos and other assets to free those being held in that holding facility. Our goal is to get our team out of this facility and back home with their data intact. ​

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Not too far away from these operations, a shantytown by the name of Alura was once the city of Al-Lara. A First Imperial city that prided itself on scientific research. Rumors place operatives of an unknown origin here, perhaps, looking for whatever it was the city was working on prior to the Sacking of Dosuun.​

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IN THE COLDRIDGE HOLDING FACILITY WHAT'S LEFT OF THE FIRST ORDER'S INFILTRATION TEAM SITS IN A COLD CELL. AGENT LOTUS AND AGENT PHOENIX WERE PART OF WHAT HAD BEEN A FIVE MAN TEAM. MR. BLOODBORN WAS CAPTURED SEPARATELY HOWEVER TOSSED INTO THE SAME CELL AS LOTUS AND PHOENIX. THE OTHER THREE AGENTS [NPCS] WERE NEUTRALIZED BY THE ENEMY. THE LAST THING EACH OF THOSE IN THE CELL REMEMBER ARE WORDS REGARDING AN IMPERIAL WARLORD.​

Isobel Nakano | Phoenix Edorath | Kurayami Bloodborn

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AWARE OF AGENT LOTUS AND PHOENIX'S CAPTURE INTELLIGENCE HAS DISPATCHED A SECOND TEAM. THIS TEAM WILL CONDUCT A PRISON BREAK IN THE CHAOS OF SUCH RESCUE WHAT'S LEFT OF THE INFILTRATION TEAM, GATHER DATA AND ESCAPE THE ENSUING MADNESS. HOLDING FACILITY IS NOTED BY ITS TOWER THAT OVERLOOKS THE ONCE BUG-RIDDEN MESA. IT IS OF THE UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT THERE BE NO TRACE OF THE FIRST ORDER'S INVOLVEMENT HERE. THIS FOR INTELLIGENCE EYES ONLY SHALL BE KNOWN AS OPERATION DUNWALL. ​

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The Major | Eralam | Aurelian Dash | Matma Bernu | OPEN ​

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MEMBERS OF THE ARMED FORCES SHALL ASSAULT THE CRIMINAL ORGANIZATION'S FORTRESS, FORT ARGOS. THE FORMER FORT ACCOLON HAS SEEN HEIGHTENED ACTIVITY RECENTLY. SHUT IT DOWN. SCRAP ANY VEHICLES AND WEAPONS THAT MAY LAY THERE. FIND OUT WHERE THIS WARLORD IS AND WHO THEY ARE IF AT ALL POSSIBLE. FORT ARGOS HAS EYES ON THE HOLDING FACILITY AND SUFFICIENT CHAOS THERE SHOULD DISTRACT MOST OF THE HOLDING FACILITIES FORCES. MILITARY MEMBERS SHALL KNOW THIS AS OPERATION KINGSPARROW.​

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Omari Ngao | Vakim Duval | Lucius Vinticus | Bellam Malhan | OPEN​

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PRIOR TO THEIR CAPTURE, THE INFILTRATION TEAM MANAGED TO IDENTIFY AN OLD FIRST ORDER SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH CENTER. THE SHANTYTOWN OF ALURA HOLDS THE FOSRC BENEATH ITS TINFOIL HOMES. A THIRD PARTY HAS RECENTLY SET OUT TO LOOK FOR THE FOSRC. YOU ARE TO GRAB THE DATACORES FROM THE FOSRC AND SCUTTLE THE FACILITY. IT IS LIKELY BASED ON INTELLIGENCE THAT THIS THIRD PARTY IS ACTING ON BEHALF OF THE IMPERIAL WARLORD WE MET ON ABSIT. ​

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OPEN​

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BRING YOUR OWN OBJECTIVE. TELL YOUR STORY!​

OPEN​

 

[The Major]

DEPLOYMENT TO A.O -E.T.A 2 MINUTES
MORALE: HIGH
Resurgent Narrative | OBJECTIVE 2 TEAM​

So this is what a promotion felt like. Even if technically that promotion came with a metric tonne of caveats on top of being a clandestine posting within an operation group that did not effectively exist on paper, the feeling of difference was palpable. The resources were on a different magnitude from her previous work: supported by diversity in assets, seemingly limitless variety of gear, and detailed intel. If the unit could drum up info detailing the shoe size and favorite color of the guards posted at the objective, then Sybil had access to this information. Or, at least, it all felt that way. This wasn’t a humbling experience for Agent Shepard. Invigorating, however, most definitely.

Two dropships had deployed from the FIV Erebus in earnest after a final review of the mission plan. There was a certain Holding Facility that normally could be shoved aside with a standard carpet bombing. First Order operatives and the intel they carried being stuck inside the facility complicated all of that. So she had been sent there along with an assortment of freaks and geeks to open the prison up like a tin can. Or incite a riot to help the trapped operatives. Or undertake some other form of secret mischief to extract the captives. The form of the action felt a little like more optional flourishes to her. Ripping a hole open seemed to be following the spirit of the predetermined mission rather than the letter, but there were parameters in place to make sure the entire operation was undertaken in complete secrecy. Elsewhere, command would be undertaking a large assault on Fort Argo; presumably the racket raised by all that commotion should be enough to draw some security away from the Prison -making that opening a can bit all the more enticing. In any case, Shepard was getting ahead of herself and the team currently occupying the innards of this dropship.

The craft bobbed as it raced down through the atmosphere, rattling loose bits and shaking any teeth not set in a clenched jaw. Imagine if they were under flak to boot. Rather than focus on that uneasiness, the Almanian inspected her heavy repeating blaster -Sybil had grown quite fond of it and its explosive power after her ordeal aboard the Virulent. She wasn’t a miracle worker with the blaster, and it wasn’t the latest model, and it was a bit on the heavy side, and it looked like it had been refurbished fewer times than it had seen decades, but -wow- did that high rate of fire solve a lot of problems when in long, narrow corridors. Some other tools of the trade adorned her intrusion suit that would help with subterfuge and misdirection, but the heavy blaster would serve as a personal backup plan should things venture away from mission design.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

Resurgent Narrative | The Major | Team 3​

Dresden grunted slightly as the dropship rattled like a tin can in a hurricane.

He was still getting used to having a usable body again. Eyes that worked, muscles that didn't tremble, blood that carried sufficient oxygen to said muscles, a metabolism that generated enough heat, enough fat to keep that heat in, those were all luxuries he'd not experienced in years, until just a few short weeks ago. His original decline had been gradual enough that, like the proverbial frog in the slowly boiling pot, he hadn't really noticed how bad things had gotten right up until the end. Each successive wave of misery simply added another layer of music to the electrochemical symphony that danced across his central nervous system with every waking moment. Now that it was gone, it was hard to believe he endured for that long.

It wasn't all sunshine and roses. He'd been out of bed for less than a week when the call to duty came. His treatment, more a mad scientist's fever dream than actual medical procedure, had been spectacularly expensive, and if the First Order was to foot the bill, they were going to take it out of his hide until the heat death of the universe.

Which was why he found himself on a dropship, sitting across from Miss S. She was the team lead for this operation, and if she was worried, she didn't show it. Her heavy repeating blaster certainly wasn't what most folks would call stealthy, but then again, Dresden's idea of stealth generally meant that there were no witnesses left to notice anything amiss. He himself was carrying a heavily modified GRTD machinegun, a 17mm monstrosity left for him by a strange little astromech droid that had "assisted" with his "treatment." It too had been stripped down and rebuilt, and if it was a few kilograms heavier than the original design, it could also be effectively fired on the move, and the "battle box" that came with it wouldn't explode like a thermal detonator if it was hit by incoming fire.

Even before his decline, Dresden would have had trouble shouldering the 21 kilograms of durasteel and hatred at his side, but now, his body didn't seem to mind all that much. That should have worried him, but there was time to worry about what, exactly, had been done to him later. Right now, there was a mission. That mission's brief stated that there couldn't be any sign of First Order involvement in the hoosegow hoedown, and since the FO had no 17mm weapons in their inventory, and no sane operative would carry a heavy machinegun on a stealth mission, it was safe to say that misdirection was the play rather than outright stealth.

A manic grin stretched across his lips.

"You know," he shouted over the rumble of the atmosphere pummeling the dropship, "this could be fun. If we break enough stuff on the way out, we can charge a premium on any ammo we bring back. Bill the bad guys for the repair costs we could have inflicted."

 

[Jaya Tandris]

The Mob
The Major | Dresden Verbrennung | Resurgent Narrative ​

"Could? There's no way it won't be."

Working with imperial types had never really been Jaya's strong suit, but for this she'd more than gladly make an exception, especially considering the nature of the operation. She'd helped out with staging a prison break on Coruscant once a few years back, but it was high time to do it again. There was no thrill quite like causing chaos in a place where order is supposed to reign, to light a fuse near a powder keg. Getting paid to do made the deal just that extra bit sweeter. She'd deal with directly operating under someone for it.

Jaya's only regret was not having her gauntlets with her, but she'd make do. She was surprised nobody had tried to shove a blaster of some sort into her hands, though. Breaking things with her own pair of hands had always been much preferred, but that also meant she never used any ranged weaponry. Grenades, though? Those were fair enough. She had more than enough of those attached to her belt.

If anyone decided to hand her a blaster, though, she'd keep it on her. She was being paid for it, so she'd do that much at least.

"I stand with that guy's suggestion," Jaya shouted over the background noise that was the rumbling of the dropship. "If we cause enough fires, they'll be too busy to keep anyone inside the walls." They were here to stage a prison break, after all. Getting people out was their goal. If more people than intended got out, it wouldn't be any problem of theirs. Judging by his behemoth of a gun, the tall, brown-haired guy probably agreed with her.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

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It never failed that someone somewhere was going to interfere in matters above their pay. Coldridge was where those people went - but it was only the beginning of their journey. The beginning of their servitude to a Warlord who believed that organics were failures, he who was more machine than man delighted in the progress of his current experiments. Turning the human mind into a device that could be controlled through an elaborate sequence of binary codes. ​

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He had been informed that he now held two intelligence agents from the First Order. Imperial Warlord Sokolov grinned as he looked down at the monitors in the security room. A gloved mechanical hand touched it briefly, "they shall be a glorious addition to my new army." An army he had been seeking to base at Absit. No matter, he had relocated before and he would do it again. ​

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Meanwhile, Agent Phoenix and Lotus would be awakened by the screams of those who were in the process of being turned into droids. They with Mr. Bloodborn were trapped in a cell roughly forty-eight square feet in space. A cozy cell fit for four people, however; the fourth was dead as was clear the decay that had already set in. He had been experimented on - and the experimentation had failed. Written however on the wall were his last wishes, along with an arrow pointed to a chest in the corner. ​

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He had been one of the agents that had been with Lotus and Phoenix, he was known simply as String. Due to his weight and his capability to put together mathematical equations. The man held exactly that in his hand, a coarse durahemp fiber rope string that held within its grasp a singular cylinder code. ​

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Upon investigation, both Agents Phoenix and Lotus, along with Mr. Bloodborn will discover that String had been quite busy while they were sleeping. He had hastily drawn out a map, but the ink he used was cheap and smeared across the page. There also was a plasma torch that had been left by a previous occupant of the cell. A DC-17 Blaster Pistol along with an old scattergun, each one appeared to have been stolen off guards at one point or another. String had also left a note indicating where their possessions had been kept but noted the facility was heavily guarded and stealth would be a must if anyone was to get out alive.​

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Isobel Nakano | Phoenix Edorath | Kurayami Bloodborn ​

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Across the way - a short shuttle ride from Coldridge, on a flat patch of dirt. Members of the 369th Infantry Regiment and the 333rd Field Artillery Regiment gathered. Colonel Nemea got a look at Fort Argos through his binocs quietly he studied the fort. It was perhaps one of the first times he had been called up to active service since the Reclamation Campaign, and to be honest, he was kriffing grateful for it. He and his Avalonian Hellfighters were getting really bored on Dosuun. He smirked and looked over his shoulder, "do we have artillery set up?" Binocs lowered and stowed away the Colonel turned to approach Korkottas the man in charge of the repulsorlift battalion.​

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"The 333rd is ready to go. All we gotta do is paint them a target," answered Korkottas as he looked out toward Fort Argos. ​

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Nemea gave a nod of acknowledgment, satisfied he walked past Korkottas. "Ladies and gentlemen, our assault on Fort Argos is about to commence. I want all of you to make your peace with your maker, with your god, or whoever or whatever it is you worship. I want you to place in this box." He paused with his hand over the box in question, "your last wishes, in the event that you don't make it back. We know what you want us to do."​

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"This box is your reminder that you are not here for glory, what we do is not glorious. What we do is hell."​

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Nemea nodded toward the NCOIC and stepped away. Once more he looked at the Fort through his binocs, and once more he would stow them away and this time he turned to head toward one of the walkers. Aboard the walker he looked at the chrono on his wrist and waited for the check-in. Ahead of the Army's assault Stormtroopers from the 4th, 5th, and 12th Legions were going to drop in and take the fort from the Southeast, while they approached from the Northwest. Starfighters were also preparing for their assaults most notably the 201st and 588th. ​

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The Thyrsian waited until he saw the first of the transports appear over the horizon, "let's move out!" ​

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[Matma Bernu]

Matma Bernu- newly christened Sentinel- was strapped in, holding the crash webbing as the dropship hurtled towards the surface. It had been a long year: fighting zombies on Mephout, losing an arm and leg to the Orca creatures on Needan, aiding the campaigns on Skye, and even successfully using Battle Meditation to aid the evacuation efforts on Alpinn. The First Imperial Knights were not ones for pomp and circumstance, so it was of little surprise that the promotion was moreso of a one-on-one meeting with the Knight-Commander, Marionne Roule. His mind drifted towards the conversation.

"Bernu, let's just get to it. Do you know what your getting yourself into, should you accept this promotion? More. More responsibility. More hardship. More sacrifice. You've shown, since the Fall, that you can hold a lightsaber without poking your eyes out. You've grown more comfortable with the Force- and it only took you nearly dying on Needan- but you still need to make more strides. You can liaise reasonably well, your more then comfortable on the front, and you can think on your feet. So I'm sure your wondering: Damn, if I'm so qualified, why are you making this sound like a punishment?"

The Knight-Commander sighed. "Peace is not a normal state of affairs in the galaxy. It ebbs, and it flows. We have been fortunate enough to rebuild in relative peace. But one day- probably in our lifetimes- war will be on our doorsteps. And the Knights will have to answer the call. But there aren't enough of us to go around, and most of the Corps is green. I can count on one hand the number of us who've gone up against a Force User- be a Jedi, a Sith, whatever- and came out of it on top. But if I make you a Sentinel, that means I'm trusting you to take on incredibly dangerous missions, and put yourself in danger that you could never imagine, in your wildest dreams. Are you ready to take on more?"


The Chiss was snapped out of his reverie by the shouts of Dresden Verbrennung and Jaya Tandris . He kept an impassive look on his face, while he considered the suggestions. Then, he added his two cents.

"Maybe we should avoid firefights until necessary", he yelled over the din. "We can minimize the amount of collateral damage- especially to the team and data. Perhaps we should attempt a diversion- something that draws attention, but not a state of heightened security."

Resurgent Narrative The Major | Eralam | Aurelian Dash | Dresden Verbrennung | Jaya Tandris

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel was aware of the dull ache in her head and the dry pain in her throat before she was even conscious. Her eyes flickered open and she gazed up at the ceiling for a few moments, waiting for her brain to engage. Where was she? What was that god-awful smell? Her brain slowly started firing on its cyllinders as the previous night -- maybe? -- came back to her. They had stopped at a local tavern to feed and hydrate and see if they could gather any intelligence. Then... nothing.

Then now.

She levered herself up into a seated position, reaching behind her to rub the back of her head gently. It was bruised, as if she had been hit with something heavy, or else hit the floor herself. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and she would have given anything for a drink of water. Isobel surveyed the cell. Four cots, two on each wall, one above the other. A latrine of some extraction towards the back. A grate for draining. A miniscule, barred window. Three bodies.

Careful examination revealed that two of them, Phoenix Edorath and Kurayami Bloodborn appeared to be asleep, but the fourth was unmistakably dead. "Oh, String," said Isobel with a sigh. His real name had been Terrence, although she wasn't sure how widespread that knowledge was, even in the Section. That reminded her that her own clandestine identity was now blown, and she would have to have another set up. If they survived this ordeal, which, given the fate of Terrence, was not necessarily guaranteed.

Her gaze followed the arrow that String -- presumably -- had drawn and knelt down next to the chest. She pushed the lid back and open and looked inside before carefully reaching in to see what was there. She picked up the torch, but a scream reverberated down the cell block, reminding Isobel of just what had woken her up. The surprise made her drop the torch in a loud clatter. Loud enough to wake the others? Time would tell.

Resurgent Narrative​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

The assault was on the First Order's armed forces began their strike on Fort Argos. Durasteel barrels of death opened up on the fortress, accompanied by Alusteel backed anger of the Starfighter Corps. Men in their alabaster betaplast-plastoid armor had already gained entry into the fortress. Imperial Warlord Sokolov raged at the First Order's audacity and was further infuriated when a shell landed near his elevated platform. "ARE YOU BLIND!? DEPLOY THE GARRISON!" Demanded, ordered the Warlord as his hands held onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip.​

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Colonel Nemea smirked as he sat in the Walker, the sheer vibrations from its massive metal paws as the ground shook from each step the durasteel beast took. Accompanied by its squadron the walkers took focus on the fortress and unleashed hell upon it. Parts of the fortress flew upward into the Karran sky while others were flung across the mesa. Nemea ordered his men forward and if there were tunnels they would burn them out, dispatching flamethrowers to the task. ​

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War was war, and hell was hell - today they both descended upon Fort Argos. Destruction and devastation; Warlord Sokolov was going to learn today who exactly the First Order were for they had resisted the Ssi-Ruuvi Imperium. For they had taken every single part of Dosuun back by force and would do the same here on Karra. The Fields of Karra would be littered with bodies if that is what it took to free it from this slavery market and whatever hell Sokolov had planned for it.​

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Jaya Tandris | The Major | Matma Bernu | Dresden Verbrennung | Aurelian Dash ​

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[The Major]

DEPLOYMENT LIVE
MORALE: HIGH
Resurgent Narrative | Dresden Verbrennung | Matma Bernu | Jaya Tandris ​

Bloody chatter-ninnies. ​

You’d think these operatives were on their maiden intrusion, popping the proverbial mission cherry with all the talk. At least, Major Shepard might have thought as much -or rather, thought as little- of this cohort of minions set to engage in dastardly molecule rearrangement. The tactics to be used were already covered by TacCom back aboard when they mustered. In reality, Shepard was no legendary merc -at least not in this life- nor was she some cold hearted Hunter-Hutt dishing out criticism on people new to herself. They had jitters. No way around it. This was a rough bunch glued together by credits, redacted orders, and back channel debt collection. A little nervous chatter was to be expected.

The dropships landed and the gates slapped open -this deployment in particular spitting out the group in a covered ravine that snaked up the plateau and led to the prison complex proper. The Major’s platoon of stormtroopers were dressed in relatively plain tactical outfits that made the unit look more like an Exchange hit-squad than some highly specialized First Order troop. Their mission to defend the dropships was predetermined at the brief; no need for Sybil to start barking like a half headed drill bit. Thus, they moved to position, leaving the prime operatives to work their magic.

“The Chiss is right. Distract. . . then destroy. Or, deflate? Either way, Knight Bernu, can you work your mojo and hit them with some disruptive battle meditation? Or some other Force wotzit? If not, let's get in range of their subnet.”

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

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They certainly had their orders- and Dresden had his. Though he had much of his strength back, and maybe a little more, the operative's mobility and endurance were still, frankly, subpar. Having one's body practically replaced by the maddest scientists that money could buy certainly had its upsides, but being rebuilt practically from the cellular level was not without side effects. Running had never been his strong suit, even before his body had been ravaged by a radiation bomb, and that was even more true now. Frankly speaking, he should have still been in physical therapy, but the First Order had a mighty need for skilled agents, and were willing to take what they could get.

For this mission, the lanky agent's role was that of overwatch. He and his Machinegun Of Doom™ were best suited to guard the LZ, and if necessary, blast a hole for the retreating agents when they had to make their way out of the prison. His eyes were far more valuable than his trigger finger at this stage of the mission.

"Don't get your, uh, shoestrings, in a twist, S," he said. "I'm not gonna shoot any buildings in half until necessary.

He'd nearly said knickers out of reflex. The old Sybil would have been annoyed, and fired back with an even more devastating insult that would have worked to defuse tension, but this new one was still an enigma. She was as competent as ever, in her own way, but Dresden never knew quite what to make of her. Occasional glimmers of the old haughty self would shine through from time to time, but he quickly learned that treating her like his old friend, the only real one he had in the First Order, made her intensely uncomfortable. Or at least, that was how it seemed to him. She never said as much, but his intuition told him that she was still insecure about her old life interacting with the new.

A quick, if exhausting, jaunt up a nearby fire escape put him on top of a building with a good view of the prison complex. "Complex" was a bit of a misnomer; like much of the rest of this wretched planet, it was in bad need of a power wash and a few coats of paint, and probably a crew of contractors to bring the whole damn place up to code. He was practically wheezing as he low crawled into position, and deployed the masking hologram that would protect him from detection on most of the electromagnetic spectrum. He took several deep breaths, willing his heartrate to slow to something manageable, before contacting the others.

"Oracle, in position.

Resurgent Narrative | The Major | Matma Bernu | Jaya Tandris​

 

[Matma Bernu]

Matma considered Shepard's idea. It's not bad. Battle Meditation can inspire- logically, one can use it to confuse, fracture, and demoralize the enemy.

He nodded. "I can do it, but there'll be some drawbacks." Matma chewed the side of his mouth before continuing.

"At my level, I can do it for about three hours, max. Distance shouldn't be an issue, but the closer I am, the faster effect Battle Mediation will have- it's the emotive impact on them would be the difference between being scrambling around because you can't find your wallet, and thinking everything has simultaneously caught on fire at once, and the world's going the end. The former is a build up to the latter, while the latter happens immediately. But with the amount of minds I'll have to touch, I'll need focus all my attention on the battle meld- coordinating and invigorating us and impacting them simultaneously. I won't be able to move, so I'll be vulnerable."

Matma exhaled. "If we do this, just make sure they can't find me in a trance, and I'll be fine. I know what I signed up for."

Resurgent Narrative The Major | Eralam | Aurelian Dash | Dresden Verbrennung | Jaya Tandris

 

[Jaya Tandris]

The Major | Dresden Verbrennung | Matma Bernu | Resurgent Narrative
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Every good op needed a good setup. Going in guns blazing right away wouldn't work in a place such as this highly-defended complex, but even Jaya could see that. Regardless, she wasn't getting paid to call the shots. She'd follow the script, as much as she would've done things differently herself. The woman would get her thrills one way or another, she was sure. Until she was needed to get something done, she'd be right behind the lady in charge.

Chatter about some Force mojo Jaya didn't understand took place while the guy with the big kark-off gun took off to get in position, leaving their 'on-site tech expert' to simply stand and listen. She would've never believed the Force even existed had she not seen someone do some of the strangest things she'd ever witnessed, but Jaya herself did just fine without it.

Adjusting her toolbelt- her actual tools on one side, a row of grenades on the other- Jaya waited until the rag-tag collective was ready to move. There was little for her to do until then.

 

[Phoenix Edorath]

Tag: Resurgent Narrative | Isobel Nakano | Kurayami Bloodborn
Gear: Outfit | DC-17m | DC-15s | Tactical Knives
Muse Soundtrack: Cryo Chamber "Dark Ambient Melodies - Apocryphos"​

Sound returned to her first, someone moving around her, something opening or closing, perhaps, but the screams that cut through the air like a vibroknife through shimmersilk jolted her back into full consciousness. Eyes opened with a great deal of protest and she had enough sense to not sit up abruptly. Her training had been nothing if not thorough - Phoenix took the time to take stock of her body, finding nothing worse than aching save for the bitter taste that simply wouldn't leave her mouth.​

There was a group of them tasked with infiltration, which was normally outside of her usual scope, but she'd been assigned to the group for her mind as much as her abilities this time around. With that though skittering about in her mind, she sat up slowly, looking around to see if the others were nearby. She saw Ami first, passed out cold beside her, which elicited a string of soft curses and her hand shook until she felt his pulse in his neck strong and steady. He hadn't even been with them on this one, so she had no idea how he'd ended up there.​

That...was a problem. Ami was a full on Master of the Force in addition to having a durasteel stomach and being a drunken savant. Whatever he'd been dosed with, it had him tightly in it's grips.​

"Kark." she managed, once more cursing the dryness and lingering bitterness in her mouth. She saw Lotus crouching, startled, over a small chest, then caught sight and smell of String as he lay dead a short distance away. She was going to burn that tavern to the ground once they'd gotten out of here. Her mind was sluggish as she forced it to work and got to her feet, shuffling over to crouch beside String for a moment. "Karking hell...what did they do to you?" she murmured softly.​

Fingers gingerly closed his eyes and rested on his forehead for a brief moment, before gently taking the rope out of his grasp. "I am going to burn this place to the Maw-forsaken ground. Are you alright, Lotus?" she asked after a moment, a fresh set of screams slicing down her spine and making her pause as she moved to the woman's side, peering at what she'd found. The flickering sanguine of her gaze hardening as she turned her face to stare at the roughly constructed door.​

 

[Kurayami Bloodborn]

Tags: Isobel Nakano | Phoenix Edorath | Resurgent Narrative
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Once again, Kurayami found himself in an odd situation...though not an entirely uncommon one for the Corellian. All that remained of his gear was the armored flightsuit, and the utility belt. His helmet and gauntlets had been taken from him ealrier, the boots were not deemed to be dangerous enough to confiscate as they contained no weapons or strange tech that would assist in an escape attempt. Visions of many times, new, old, and flashes of possible events all raced through the man's mind as he lay unconscious on the cot. He may have been a master in usage of the Force, but this time it had not been of any use as the danger had been much more well disguised than most.

Voices of allies and enemies alike echoed in his mind, taunting him with his failure to recognize even a simple trap such as this. Slowly they would fade into the background as he started to come around. It was the screams that first started the process of bringing him out of his slumber, next would be wild feelings of pain and fear that resounded in the Force, accompanied by the sounds of Agent Lotus and his old compatriot Phoenix in the same cell as himself he brought himself back to a hazy awareness of the world around him as he moved to sit upright in his cot.

After doing so and standing just long enough to stretch, he looked at his surroundings. A small cell, four cots, three living inhabitants with the fourth clearly deceased. All he knew of the man was that he was a member of the FOSB and that his alias was String. Taking a deep breath to try and bring his mind back into sharper focus, Kurayami seemed unperturbed as he did his best to reach out through the FOrce and find some weakness in the minds of those around him. It was to no avail however as he noticed the lack of a familiar weight on his hip. Jenni's saber was not in the pouch on the belt, nor was it hanging on his left side. This realization snapped his focus immediately and set his blood boiling. Those bastards knew he was a Jedi, how he didn't know, nor did he care to, all that mattered to Kurayami at the moment was to make the pay.

Turning to face Isobel and Phoenix he finally spoke as he sat back down on the cot. "Okay, so maybe I didn't make the best early warning system for avoiding entanglements this go round. Gotta find out what they dosed us with, because my head is frakkin' pounding right now. I know you ladies have some ideas working for how to get out of here even if all we got to work with is a few battered pieces of tech. I do have an idea that might work, but its more than slightly crazy, so I'll save it as a back up plan if the rest don't work."

Turning his eyes to the slumped form of String he bowed his head, he knew what it felt like to lose those close to you, but all they could do to honor String's memory right now was to survive and get whatever he had on him back to the First Order. Was it crazy? Sure, but Kurayami had never been one to care too much about the sanity of a plan nor its odds of success.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

The wailing of sirens overtook the sound of the screams, the three captured in their cells could hear the guards shout: "THE KRIFFING FIRST ORDER! THEY'RE SHELLING ARGOS!" More colorful phrases were surely uttered, as the earth-shattering vibrations of artillery smashing into the Fortress across from the holding facility were felt. Prisoners rushed to the front of their cells begging to be released only to have their pleas go unheard. Madness of battle swiftly switched the mindsets of the guards as they were ordered to eliminate evidence, and burn what they could. Anything to keep the First Order from realizing what Sokolov was up to.​

​

In the midst of this, guards rushed through the halls - this provided a keen opportunity for one of the three members to grab a set of keys off one of the more careless of those employed by Sokolov. Sokolov's paramilitary forces could be seen from down hall pushing outward - most likely to flank the First Order's forces. ​

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​

​

The agents who were plotting to release the infiltration team from prison would soon find their opening. All the while they too would hear the sounds of battle and more-so, as it came closer to them. Sokolov's armed forces worked to charge from behind the agents with tanks and walkers of their own. The whistles of artillery brought promises of destruction and death, the First Order would return fire and all of it crossed over between the group's location. Karra would be free - one way or another, Sokolov would be dealt with and its team would be free, the opportunity to blow through the holding facility was soon arriving.​

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"RIGHT FLANK!" Shouted a member of the Field Artillery, eyes of the First Imperial Army caught sight of the flank approaching. ​

​

The coveted Sergeant First Class issued the order, he wanted that flank to disappear. Infantry was already pushing forward and cavalry had yet to arrive. Meanwhile the Stormtroopers were quite busy in the middle of Fort Argos, the devil dogs of the First Order were not only deadly accurate with their rifle but showed no hesitation in using their rifles as bludgeoning devices. Alabaster betaplast armor now wore blood like war paint scattered across their armor. Flamethrowers burned through the tunnels, while their lesser armored brethren of the Army swept through.​

​

Sokolov threw his own fighters into the mix, and so the Starfighters took to intercept. ​

​

"C'MON YOU SCHUTTAS! DO YOU WANT TO LIVE FOREVER?!" Shouted one of the NCOICs of the Stormtroopers who waved his men onward onto battle. ​

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Isobel Nakano | Phoenix Edorath | Kurayami Bloodborn | Dresden Verbrennung | Matma Bernu | The Major | Jaya Tandris ​

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[Isobel Nakano]

"I'm fine. More than I can say for T--for String. I, too, am going to burn this place to the ground," said Isobel, looking grimly towards Phoenix Edorath , rage in her eyes. Her eyes softened as she studied her companion. "Are you all right?" Not that they'd have anything to do about it if she wasn't. No health kit, and no linens she'd trust on a colleague in lieu of bandages. Anything in here would probably infect them with some godforsaken disease, and frankly one brush with a deadly virus was plenty for Isobel Nakano.

Her attention was taken by the other inhabitant of the cell, Kurayami Bloodborn . Isobel didn't know him much, but he had friends in high places, so having him here probably improved the odds of them getting out alive, if the high-ups in the Order had anything to say about it. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to explore this idea of his or much else before the shelling began. The calamitous noise was shocking; the building rumbled. Isobel went to the bars, snatching Terrence's last memento on the way, only shrinking back when a guardsman's body slumped back against the wall after a collapsing section of piping fell on him.

Something shiny caught her attention. Could it be? Isobel knelt at the bars and reached through them, snatching the keyring off the guardsman's belt. "Could we possibly be the jammiest bastards on this rock?" she asked the others, holding up the keys. The went to the door and carefully wound her fingers through the bars to insert the first key into the lock. It didn't turn. Ditto the second and third key. "Come on," she muttered, forcing the fourth key into the lock. She twisted it, willing it to tumble the lock, and --

It worked. "Yes!" she hissed. "Come on," she said. "We need to find a way out of here." She tucked the keys into her pocket and picked up the blaster the guard had dropped, waiting for the others to join her.

Resurgent Narrative​

 

[The Major]

ADVANCING ON OBJECTIVE
MORALE: FRENZY ♫
Resurgent Narrative | Dresden Verbrennung | Matma Bernu
Jaya Tandris | Isobel Nakano | Kurayami Bloodborn ​

She, they, all heard it before the shockwave burst somewhere ahead. A high whine, a mighty whistle, then a gush of pulverized rubble and stone flying up before pelting the assemblage in trickling sand. Now for the ringing ears and burst blood vessels. Then another.

Another.

One more. ​

Tracers, turbo bolts, and shells began to whizz by; this was an opening prayer of War’s damnable choir, chanting bass mixed with frenzied scream of shots popping left or right.

“Slow is blown! Stay on my ass; follow me!” This time the Major had to bellow in the manner which officers painfully engage with —pointing in the rough direction of her keister before adopting a low stance, pouncing like a beast into a huddled sprint while maneuvering the ravine. Their terrain gave them some measure of cover as the layers of cross fire grew ever louder, but artillery was artillery. If they were spotted in the chaos while this close to Sokolov’s new pincer movement, then it would only be a casual matter for the enemy to zero upon this squad and ace them all with a pinpoint strike.

Not today. Not while they had lungs to breathe with and legs to carry them. ​

The commotion pricked and poked the deep recesses of her bestail brain, pleasing to fume along with as the inferno of rage passed from the Major’s head down to her chest and into her waist. Infantry animal was she, momentarily achieving mankind’s truer, sublime form: a headlong charge, ducking low, weapon trail carrying in one hand, while screeching malice at the abyss. So it was a thousand generations before, so it would be a thousand generations after.

She hissed at the flashes of fire, snorted contemptuously at the overheat of missed rockets searing her senses, loved the cascading spin of a tank shell zipping WHEEEEEEE-WHEEE-WHOOE-OOHH-OH as they sang nearby, ruining someone else’s day forevermore.

Shepard was either mad at the storm or starved to lust with the connection to what she once was — failing to comprehend this energy but wheezing in time to its horrid cycle all the same. This worked, insomuch as Sybil was pressed up against the prison walls and grinning at the obstacle from ear to ear. So overcome was she with glee over the challenge it presented her teeth squeezed tight, shoving spit past canine and bicuspid. Hand to ear, comms now engaged, random bits of structure exploding as artillery blasts pounded the escarpment.

:: Oracle, keep the exfil zone clean.:: To Mr. V. The platoon assigned to their collective escape route was now facing suppressing fire as the first edges of the enemy’s advance reached their position. They would soon be overwhelmed if vehicles breached their line.

:: Punchy, rip us open a hole.:: To Jaya, referring to the wall. This was no random edge they covered behind. Schematics laid out a large assembly area on the other side.

:: Knight, you’re on point. Make a mess of them.:: To Matma, as Major Shepard prepared to cover his entrance with heavy fire.

Looks like Sokolov and the rest of the First Order had covered the distract portion of the mission plan. Mission Dunwall was now in the destroy phase.

 

[Dresden Verbrennung]

"On it," Dresden replied curtly, biting back a curse.

As it stood, with armor clawing up their asses from behind, artillery from the front, and Force knew what from the flanks, he had his choice of targets. Fortunately, he had his choice in weapon, too.

The GRTD wasn't a blaster. Blasters were, pound for pound, more powerful than their slugthrowing cousins. A blaster bolt contained within it the energy to flash the water in a person's cells to steam, creating horrific, penetrating burns. Although blaster wounds didn't tend to bleed overmuch, on account of the cauterizing nature of the thermal energy bloom that resulted from the impact, they were extremely efficient. Bullets would almost always pass through a human-sized target, dumping a portion of their energy into the surrounding soft tissue and creating a temporary cavity. Most of the energy, however, was wasted. Blaster bolts wasted none of their energy on overpenetration. Blasters, however, tended to be limited in their range, and were inherently less accurate. On top of that, their brilliantly colored bolts told any interested observers exactly where the shooter was hiding. What's more, there was an upper limit on the amount of energy that could be poured into a man-portable blaster weapon. Slugthrowers had that problem too, but their upper limit could be made considerably higher, with the right tech.

Dresden's modified GRTD sat at the far end of the bell curve. Her 17mm bullets traveled at speeds that would make most cannon jealous. What's more, they were far better at penetrating through armor. Though an E-Web, the closest blaster equivalent to a slugthrowing heavy machinegun, was a devastating weapon in the right hands, no one in their right mind would try to engage actual tanks with one.

The lanky agent, never having been accused of an overabundance of sanity, had tried just that on occasion, to mixed results. Blaster bolts could, given time, chew through the thinner armor on the sides, rear, and top of a tank, but were nearly useless against the well protected front. By the time you dumped enough energy in it to make a difference, the gunner would undoubtedly spot and eliminate the pesky mosquito nipping at its nose. The same could not be said for Dresden's handloaded, iridium-cored penetrators, fired through a custom-lathed phrik barrel that could stand chamber pressures much higher than the original. To withstand the increased recoil, the older, clunky inertial dampers had been replaced by a trio of linked StabiliGat™ modules, an aftermarket upgrade available through the manufacturer.

In short, this GRTD could punch through a tank the long way, given they were close enough, and at the right angle. Several of these tanks met those criteria.

But there were an awful lot of them.

There was nothing for it. Dresden had only 500 rounds with him, and while that might have seemed excessive at the outset, given the opposition they were now facing, he'd have to be extremely frugal with his shots. With that in mind, he lined up the first tank, and let loose a three round burst. The first round was a little low, clanging wildly off the junction where the upper and lower plates met. The second round smacked the driver's hatch square on, punching straight through a vision block and, presumably, taking his head clean off. It was unlikely that the rest of the crew had a chance to notice, because the third round, which slipped under the gun's mantlet and through the turret ring, must have hit the ready rack of ammunition. A brilliant jet of flame, nearly ten meters tall, shot out of the open commander's hatch like the gods' own blowtorch. You couldn't call something that hot and violent a mere fire, but it wasn't really an explosion, either. It was, simply put, Hell.

Confident that the concealing hologram was holding thus far, Dresden lined up on the next tank, and opened fire.

The Major | Jaya Tandris | Matma Bernu​

 

[Jaya Tandris]

​

And then, the fire started.

Things got loud, but the voice in charge was loud enough to be clear. It was time to go. Run Jaya did, not looking to get any bolts or shells today. Things had gotten messier than she'd expected beforehand, but that was entirely on her. This was proper war, a far cry from what the woman was used to. Breaths quickened with every step as she essentially ran for her life. Senses were stimulated to an intense degree, adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her human limits were being tested.

Jaya could get used to this.

The prison wall had been reached. Jaya's back was planted against it as she took that precious yet short moment to breathe deeply. This was only the beginning; she had to conserve her energy.

After that short moment, orders came in. First to their fire support, then to Jaya herself. A toothy grin was flashed in response to the nickname as she retrieved a disk-shaped explosive from her belt. "You got it," the woman responded as she stuck it to the wall and raised one hand, the other gripping a handle to set off the timer.

"Stand back!" she yelled as she turned the handle and sprinted. Five slow beeps warned everyone to keep their distance. Five faster beeps let them know they should've gotten their distance by now. Five rapid beeps later, the shockwave of the explosion rolled over Jaya's back. When she turned around, a hole was now present in the wall.

The Major | Matma Bernu | Dresden Verbrennung | Isobel Nakano | Kurayami Bloodborn | Resurgent Narrative ​

 

[Matma Bernu]

One minute they were plotting a distraction, and then the distraction came to them. The extraction team found themselves trapped between the First Imperial Army and Sokolov's forces clashed. Matma ran behind the rest of the team, ears ringing from the artillery shells raining down around them. The battle had come to them, and it was time to make the most of it.

He nodded, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber as Shepard indicated he was taking point. Matma calmed himself, moving away from the blast zone. He gathered himself, readying to spring into action as the girl- Jaya he believed- planted the charges. The countdown felt like an eternity- Five slow beeps , then five faster beeps, five rapid beeps, and with a controlled explosion, there was a hole in the wall. The guards, confused and disoriented, began shouting orders over one another as they warily approached the exit.

Snap-hiss.

The confusion turned into horror as the Chiss, swinging a green blade, charged through the breach and swiftly beheaded the nearest guard in one fluid motion. Not losing his momentum, Bernu reversed his grip, running through his fellow before yanking the lightsaber out and allowing the body to topple over.

The shock having worn off, the guards attempted to encircle the Knight. Matma, in response, sent some of the debris caused by the team's messy entrance as projectiles at the guard, catching one of them in the shoulder before causing the others to take defensive positions.

"Your clear, let's go", Matma shouted as he stood in front of the hole, swatting blaster bolts away.

Resurgent Narrative The Major | Eralam | Aurelian Dash | Dresden Verbrennung | Jaya Tandris