Dominion The Troska Treaty Affair [NIO Dom of Troska]

[Hunter Blackburn]

// WADDLES //
// OBJECTIVE // Board Hapan Battle Dragon
// FOCUS // Allyson Locke
// EQUIPMENT // Armor, Rifle, The Albatross

From the darkness of space, creeping behind and between the pirate vessels was The Spectre’s Shadow. The shuttle given the designation for this mission solely, one that could perhaps spell the death of every Galactic Marine and the liaison that accompanied them. The sleek obsidian ship crept beneath the sensors of the far larger cruisers and corvettes its nightshadow hull coating aiding in the process.

Creeping ever closer to the Battle Dragon, the marines housed on the interior of the vessel prepared themselves. Already drabbed in their armor, the brave men and women inspected their equipment. In one corner of the ship, a Thyrisian male sat, legs spread wide in-between them a jug of protein powder. Filling the shaking cup the soldier’s eyes never left the liaison that had been assigned to their unit.

Shaking the cup back and forth, Adrial gave the woman perhaps the twentieth once over in the pass hour. Some joked that the soldier had the hots for her, in truth he didn’t trust her. The only CO’s they had for the Galactic Marines were gone, Kezeroth still recovering after their last mission, and the other dead. Thus it left only Adrial to care for the men that remained, not some special snowflake that hadn’t proven her mettle to them.

With a jolt Adrial felt the ship come to a stop, the coms on the shuttle activating. “We’ve made contact, prepare to breach in three.” Standing and making his way to the side of a Duros who kneeled near a hatch in the floor the Thyrisian patted him on the back.

“Alright boys! It seems that command has deemed it necessary for us once again to tread where the Force corps will not. To do what Stormtroopers can’t. Our mission today is to incapacitate the Battledragon known and the Unyielding Prince. Not gonna lie to ya, they’ve got us outnumbered, but we have a secret weapon.”

Motioning towards the woman Allyson Locke , Adrial offered a nod, though it seemed hesitant. “Me, Sledge, Moors and Jeggins will be defending her. Squad 2 I want you getting to the hyperdrives and ensure this ship can’t get anywhere.” The next 2 minutes went like that with Adrial taking charge and rattling off orders to what remained of the 56 marines. Patting Sledge on the shoulder twice, the duros set to work cutting an opening into the hapan dragon.

Just as the clock hit zero a chunk of durasteel fell free permitting entry into the vessel. Preparing to jump in Sledge found himself stopped by Adrial’s iron grip. “No, we’ll let our guest go first.” Sledge looked in disbelief between the two knowing the instructions that had just been given but knew better than to question Adrial.

“After you.”

 

[Avernus]

// BIG MONEY //
// OBJECTIVE // Avernus_Time (Starfighter Posting)
// Focus // Open
// Ship(s) // The Turbo L.O.V.E.R | Gold Digger (Ragnos-class Starfighter)
// S U P E R S P A C E E U R O B E A T //

A large, ostentatiously red star destroyer jumped into the Troska system. The Turbo L.O.V.E.R, being fashionably late to the engagement already, wasted no time in engaging the blockade. The insane range of armaments firing a menagerie of lasers and missiles through the void. From the command bridge, private AvCorp™ naval contractors and officers oversaw the assault. The ship's owner, The Dark Lord Formerly Known As Darth Avernus, was nowhere to be seen.

The Pureblood strode down the painted durasteel corridors of the ship, his frame obscured in a completely modest and down to earth leisure robe. As he passed by, the men in his deathsquads service stood at attention, a formal display of discipline that clashed heavily with the sight of Yeezy's opulence. The golden-silk enigma rounded a corner to the ship's primary hangar. Preemptively, as if awaiting his arrival, the large durasteel blast doors to the hanger opened several meters in front of him.

"My Lord, I've prepped your ship an-" The Chiss contractor that accosted him as he entered the hangar was quickly silenced by a hand directly covering her face. Big Money gently shoved her aside, hand to face as he passed by her. "Yes, thank you Zur'lin'arvor," a cold and aloof Avernus responded, not even doing her the decency to glance in her direction.

As Avernus reached the Gold Digger, he began to remove the leisure robe. He dropped it backwards off of his frame, with every intention to let it fall to the floor. Two of the slaves hangar-hands had made their way to him on queue, catching it and taking it away before it reached the ground. With the removal of the robe, the TOTALLY AVERAGE EVERYMAN ATTIRE beneath was revealed.

Once inside, he'd waste little time before taking off. The ship had already been warmed up and prepped, and the supporting squadron had been on standby awaiting his arrival. Flipping a switch retracted the landing gear, and the repulsors pushing the ship upwards. Pushing the sticks forward, the interceptor slowly crept towards the hangars atmospheric shield, with the supporting fleet shortly following suit.

As soon as the interceptor breached the threshold of the magnetic shield, Avernus grabbed the SLAM activator. Turning the activator to unlock it, he quickly jerked it outwards to release the inhibitor. His opposite hand quickly stroked across the other side of the dash, turning the knob that deactivated the power-overload saftey mechanism. In a flash both hands shot back over to the control stick, slamming them forward with a quick and aggressive motion.

With a sudden burst of repugnant speed, the Gold Digger tore the absolute fuck away from allied lines and screamed its way towards the blockade. The supporting fleet, following much farther behind at their own max speed, with absolutely no hope of keeping up with the dangerously overtuned starfighter.

Avernus' hand returned to the SLAM inhibitor after a moment. Relying on his feelings, he simply waited for the correct moment. That moment would come quickly, given the abhorrent speed in which the craft was travelling. When the sudden inclination came to him, he pushed the inhibitor back in and adjusted his speed to what was, by comparison, a crawl. Only a few dozen meters from the bridge viewports of one of the many blockade ships, Avernus squeezed the missile trigger, two proton torpedos launching outwards.

Avernus threw the control sticks up and to the left, causing the craft to spin in a corkscrew, and pointing the nose away from the larger ship, looking directly down the front line of the blockade. Grabbing the inhibitor again, he twisted and pulled. His left hand quickly finding the overload protection knob as it had before. He punched the throttle forward again just in time for the torpedoes to detonate the command center of the larger ship.

Damn, that must have looked cool.

 

[Lucien Dooku]

BATTLE OVER TROSKA
DRIP | ETA-2 MIDNIGHT | LIGHTSABER
Maynard Treicolt | Ryv | Marlon Sularen

Luc appreciated the experience he was learning from his time on the ground as an up-and-coming Jedi commander within the New Imperial Order. The liberation of his homeworld was a daunting task that he wished to not just take part of in the future, but also be directly responsible for when the time came, after all. The small unit of elite troopers beneath his command were the best that he never asked for, and even he could tell the difference in himself as the days turned into months, and the spacer evolved into a man who no longer hesitated to bring the fight to the much expansive threat that was the Sith, an enemy who he'd done his best to avoid confrontation with ever since his exile from Serenno. He'd come a long way since his days spent traveling the stars unchained- granted he was still unchained, but his commitments to the NIO were one that he so far had decided to honor, considering the circumstances. The aligning of their mutual goals kept him mostly around when he was truly needed, and such was the case on the eventful day that the world of Troska was to be subject for an intervention on behalf of their royal family.

An attempted coup by a traitorous brought the forces of the Imperial Order onto the doorstep of Troska in force, only to be met by an expansive fleet of pirate and mercenary vessels that were blockading the planet for some time before their arrival. Missions were drafted and divvied out to the various organizations and agents present, and Luc had been given the honor of joining the ground contingent in rescuing the Countess on the ground, an honor that he subsequently turned down without second thought to the mission. He was a spacer at heart, and no amount of royal blood or station of command would change that facet about who he was. Presented before him was a tapestry that needed to be painted; vast numbers of ships and starfighters were gearing up on both sides for a meeting engagement over Troska's orbit.

If the battle that to come was the empty tapestry, then Lucien Dooku was definitely the paint and the brush, if he had anything to say on the matter. Seated behind the sticks of his Eta-2, he was happiest spacer in the world when the opportunity arose for him to set aside his military command for a day and enter the fray of battle in space. He'd missed the opportunity to do so back when he fought against the sith at their last encounter along the Pabol Hutta, and since then his fingers had been itching for another chance to bring the fight to the enemy where he had the home field advantage.

Against the wishes of his immediate superiors, Lucien headed out into the void from the Predator, his temporarily-assigned home until the duration of the mission was completed. The Captain of the vessel ordered three squadrons out in front of him, the more numerous TIE batch of fighters and interceptors heading out to meet the enemy fleet to gauge their response before heading back towards friendly lines immediately after. After crossing the threshold of the hangar's atmospheric shield, Lucien engaged his thrusters mere seconds later, the nimble Jedi Starfighter surging a path across the void on an intercept course with their formation. The surge of energy exuding from his boosters trailed a beautiful path to his intended destination, and even whilst moving at attack speed it was minimal effort for Lucien to reach the head of their formation.

"This is Lucien Dooku; I'll be joining up with you flyboys for a little bit of fun on this beautiful day." Luc delivered the message across the TIE squadrons and the Predator's shared comms channel. Lucien's Eta-2 was an iconic and familiar sight above the skies of Nirauan, and his forced entry into their formation came with no reservations from the squadron commanders present. Together the group continued on their intercept course with the enemy fleet until their radars picked up dozens of pings coming from the outer layer of the enemy blockade. Following their Captain's orders, the initial squadron of TIE's curved a hard left and began a retreat back to the vicinity of their ship at full speed. Chatter across the comms lit up between the TIE squadrons and the bridge of the Predator, as their retreat was marked by the sight of a lone starfighter surging forwards where the others had done the opposite.

Lucien shut off his comms as incoming chatter from the retreating friendlies flooded into his ears en masse. The R4 mounted on his hull chimed in over his speakers, expressing his concerns about Luc's intended actions but seemingly not all concerned at the odds they were facing, "Eh, we've got this in the bag, R4." Luc replied to the droid, a smirk leveled on his face, even as the previously invisible pings began to come into his field of view infront of his eyes. The droid let out an amused whine as Luc's fingers trailed over his laser cannon's triggers, activating his boosters once more as the Eta-2 rocketed head-first into the center of the approaching starfighter squadron's formation. Incoming laser fire pinged across his deflectors as he jousted his way clear through the center of their lines, forcing the enemy fighters to break left and right and clear an open path for him deeper into their lines.

A hand shifted from his controls and down to the panel as he pressed down upon his SLAM activation with two fingers. "Get ready, R4-- This where the fun begins!" The droid chimed back joyfully as the eager Jedi reached back for the sticks and pulled back hard, maintaining Midnight's stability as it zoomed forwards at excessive speeds that might have even intimidated Luc, had he not quite literally lived for that shit. His approach put him on a collision course with the Hapan vessel that served as the command ship, only to deactivate the SLAM system with just enough time to spare him the ability to curve him into a low-pass over the top hull of the vessel, a pair of Brilliant missiles flying beneath him to impact at short-range with the Battle Dragon's mostly undefended top hull. The astromech let out another excited string of binary as it reported impact of the missiles just as the Eta-2 jounced from the explosion's shockwave colliding with him from the rear. Damage was moderate-- not enough to take it down, but more than enough to send the message across that they were shooting far above their pay grade.

​

Luc continued skimming low across the Hapan Ship's hull, hitting his boosters right as the hull disappeared beneath him and a wave of point-defense fire began to be directed in his direction. Lasers shot up all around him and missiles filled his sensors, leaving Luc to assume that his message was received by the pirates loud and clear. The extremely nimble starfighter engaged in a series of evasive maneuvers that veered him from one bearing to another, aided by the maneuvering jets placed all across the starfighter along with the host of EW suites built into it for situations just like these. The Battle Dragon was eventually joined in by ia pair of its escorting corvettes to increase the weight of point-defense fire against Lucien's Eta-2, only for the first of two to find themselves veered into the trajectory of the mad-lad of a pilot that was only out to sow chaos among their ships.

The four remaining Brilliant missiles were released from his left missile launcher, and Luc pushed his thrusters even harder as he trailed behind the missiles on a steady downwards course towards his target. Laser cannons whined to life, his fingers pressing down rapidly upon the triggers to release a handful of controlled bursts that raked its hull right before the missiles impacted and set off a chain of explosions across the length of the corvette. Luc continued forwards on his course, passing through the flames at full speed and setting a course back for friendly lines. Already there were multiple squadrons on his tail, but his confidence was at an all time high that not a single one of them would catch him before it was too late. Opening back up his comms, Luc sent a message on all friendly channels now that he was back on his way to their side of space.

"Hostiles inbound on my six- looks like you boys are now up."

 

[Marlon Sularen]

Location | In Orbit of Troska [On Board of the Predator]
Objective | Blockade Assault | Operation Bandit Wrangler
Forces | Wraith Squadron | New Imperial Marine Commandos
Tags | Avernus | Lucien Dooku | Maynard Treicolt | Ryv

---

Marlon watched as his fighters moved out to draw the enemy out and force them into making a first move. As the Fighters moved closer to the Blockade , additional NIO and Allied Forces arrived in the form of Saber One and Three of the Galactic Alliance's Famed Saber Squadron and the Flagship of Darth Avernus , the Turbo Lover along with the Exiled Prince of Serenno's Personal Fighter. With no response coming out of the enemy Blockade , Marlon's TIEs prepared to pull back when suddenly a Starfighters zoomed past them deployed from Avernus's Capital Ship. With great skill the pliot of this Starfighter fired two Proton Torpedoes straight at one of the Bulk Cruisers hitting it's Bridge and taking the ship out with that vessel not even having time to react to such a move.

The Sudden strike by that lone fighter opened a gap in the enemy Blockade , one that Sularen could exploit. However the enemy in response to such a breach rapidly deployed it's Starfighters headed straight for the NIO Attack Force. "This is where the fun begins" Marlon said to himself. "All Fighter Craft move forward and engage enemy Starfighters. Wraith Squadron unleash every single Starfighter we got in reserve. We are going to overwhelm and decimate this pitiful Blockade" Marlon ordered. Within seconds TIE Drones , Outlanders and Slashers were being deployed left and right all zooming towards the enemy force and engaging the enemy Fighters.

As the Battle began , Wraith Squadron slowly moved into firing range intending to deal to break the blockade by unleashing their full firepower and decimating any ship especially the Aramadia-Class Thrustships in which had begun breaking away from the Blockade and heading towards all NIO Vessels present intending to board some of the New Imperial Vessels present and turn them against one another in order to cause chaos amongst the ranks of the New Imperial Assault Fleet and gain the upper hand. The Battle over Troska had begun.

 

[Ryv]

// Saber-3 //
// Objective // Operation: Bandit Wrangler
// Focus // Marlon Sularen // Maynard Treicolt // Lucien Dooku

---

---

"Ah shit, what's up, Maynard?" Ryv grinned as Saber-1 came over the commlink. "Yeah, man, it's been a while since I've been able to hop in the cockpit. You know how it is, though, Imps and Pubs man, playing the endless game of galactic control. It's just weird seeing em working together this time around. Welcome, though," he said over the coms as he initiated his final system-check for the upcoming battle. Seeing everything was in order, the Jedi Knight raised his amber gaze to once more stare out at the massive blockade lining the planet of Troska. Pirates and mercenaries likely wouldn't amount to the same threat level as the Sith Empire or Confederacy, but these people still weren't anything to take lightly. Anyone willing to take a paycheck for raiding, pillaging, and murdering people just had a particular make to them.​

​

"Alrighty, Chief, we've got the green light," Ryv pressed forward on the stick, sending his starfighter towards the blockade. "Roger that, Captain Sularen, Saber-3 moving to engage enemy starfighters," he reported to the commanding officer as he raced through the vastness of space. Across from him, he spotted dozens of starfighters moving to engage Wraith-Squadron, the dynamic duo of Saber-Squadron, and THE Lucien Dooku. While Ryv never had the confidence of Maynard or Lucien in the cockpit, knowing the more skilled pair graced the stars beside him heightened his presence of mind considerably.​

​

That peace of mind lasted for about as long as it took to engage the opposing force's starfighters and chaos to ensue. Ryv yanked hard on the sticks, veering to the left to avoid incoming fire, before rolling up and under the nearest fighter. His targeting system lined up a shot on another approaching ship while Ryv maintained evasive maneuvers, weaving between the hail of proton torpedoes whirring through space. When the familiar beep acknowledging the completion by his system, Ryv released the fast-acting ion cannons and watched as they zipped through space and collided with an encroaching pirate. The starfighter went up in flames, exploding from the weapon's impact, sending shrapnel out in every direction.​

​

"That's one," Ryv celebrated, looking down at the BD unit, joining him in the cockpit. "Keep it up, Chief."​

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

Objective I : Infiltrate
Focus : N-K 3PX Wraith Ravraa Vyshraal

---

---

Her boots hit the wall, the wire singing as Lyra scaled up the side of the palace. Eating up the distance between the ground and the window. There was just another light from the fixtures below to not warrant the use of night vision. Inside would likely be no different. All was quiet as the radar echoed at the corner of the screen, the patrol of mercenaries moving in below just a row of red dots. They had not been tipped off yet, and the soldiers could be heard meandering through the outdoor hall below.

..<"Legion Commander Voi'kryt, this is Wraith, I've got eyes on your position,">..​

<”Copy that Wraith.”>

The perimeter was falling into place. There was a tense silence, the faintest of humming heard as the demo’s lad set the cutter up on the glassteel. She held her hand up waiting for the mercs to continue on, side eyeing the droid through her helm as they waited. She spoke quietly to the spotter on the team monitoring the hall for lifesigns. Throwing the positive when they were clear, there was a low hiss as the plasma cut through the metal, opening a breach for them.

<”N-K 3PX, mind your eyes and take point-locate Lady Irene and relay coordinates. Do not engage unless you absolutely must, make it clean and quiet.”> the woman ordered, flagging the troopers in.

The Commander didn’t want to write the possibility of the lot of the hired help having radars up but men were nothing, but if there was a stray Knight prowling the halls. Lyra dropped in from the window into the palace hallway, hitting the switch on her panel to retract the wire. She hefted up her rifle, taking stock of the ornate long stretch. There was nothing reading in the vicinity yet.

 

[Wraith]

// Buckethead-3 // Wraith //
// Objective // Operation: Watchtower
// Focus // Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt | Ravraa Vyshraal | N-K 3PX

---

---

Wraith's sights panned back to the infiltration unit, momentarily watching them pause in their action. Seeing the Legion Commander's hand signal, denoting the presence of opposing forces within, he nodded to himself and shifted his attention away from the group. Further down the corridor, a band of five mercs stepped across a glassteel opening. The scout trooper maintained his trigger discipline, marking the five individuals, in turn, to be seen on the forward units HUDs. At a break in the corridor, the one squad of five became two separate units, one of three and another of two. Wraith grinned behind his helmet, following the pair as the trio moved deeper into the fortifications. He led his scope elsewhere, noting a single balcony a hundred paces ahead of the duo walking the perimeter. ​

​

<"Perfect,"> Garrick muttered, lining up his shot as he activated his commlink once more. "<Five tangos marked, positions uploaded to your HUDs. Three are working deeper into the facility; two are working along the perimeter. Steer clear of the eastern corridor, nothing but open space for two hundred meters,"> his report carried with it the precision one would expect of his position. Much like the precision in which the stormtrooper used to deliver his sitrep, he lined up the first of two shots on the separated mercenaries. Davis couldn't be sure what led them out onto the balcony, whether it was a part of the typical patrol or a means of escaping the twisting corridors they've watched, but it didn't matter. What mattered was the mission. And the mission statement meant no hostile eyes on friendlies. He pulled the trigger, dropping the furthest of the duo with a well placed shot to the human man's dome. As the Rhodian at his side raised his weapon in response, seeking out the shooter, Davis dropped him next.​

​

<"Eastern corridor clear, Legion Commander. Other three are unknown. I'm watching the high ground, stay frosty,"> Wraith refocused his attention on the parapet-like defenses of the structure's roof. A small gathering formed off on the western side, likely a group of tired mercs taking a break from their duties. The scout trooper flickered between watching them and scanning the span of the rooftop, waiting for an opportunity to ice whoever fell out of formation among the defenders.​

 

[Harath Eldar]

// Dar'manda //
// Objective // Operation: Watchtower
// Focus // Trajan Fett

---

---

"Wonderful," Harath muttered, sick and tired of all the backwater planets the Sons of Mandalore had laid claim to in recent months. Trajan's words ultimately hit home for the exiled Mandalorian. As much as he hated the busy work, Harath enjoyed a consistent flow of income as much as the next bounty hunter. While a small part of him craved the traditions and battles he'd grown up honoring, times had changed. No longer did the Mandalorians control Mandalore. No longer were his people safe in the galaxy, with the cruel machinations of the Sith Empire driving his people into a state of extinction. "Steady money and something to do. Best we'll get until we work our way home," the former Alor agreed.​

​

"I look forward to the day we can put our skills to good use," Harath stood up, twirling the beskar knife in his main hand. He followed the Mancatcher out of the ship, dragging the swoop bike alongside them. He threw a leg up and over the vehicle before pulling back on the couch. As the two sped towards the facility, his cybernetic gaze zoomed in on the defensive position held by the mercenaries closest to them. Their formation was tight, keeping all of them in sight of one another. Most appeared to armed with typical blaster rifles or some other variant, useful in the hands of a capable marksman, but nothing over the top or special. Once the Mandalorian duo slowed to a stop, the exile hopped off the bike and took up position watching their minimalistic patrol route.​

​

"There's a brief interval where the merc on the southwestern edge is out of sight of the others. Look's like he's keeping his eyes on the western flank. Odd choice," Harath turned back to the Mancatcher. "Their sniper's nest is only visible by the western guard. I'll move up on the lone soldier; you take out the sniper, I'll get numb-nuts on the lazy route. Just give me a few minutes to move up-on his position," the exile turned and moved along the ridgeline towards the waiting mercenaries. He dropped below the sightline, working his way horizontally along the cliff face, cybernetic hands and feet easily carrying him the distance in less than half the time it takes your ordinary sentient to do it.​

​

Finally, reaching the point of contact, Harath activated his commlink.​

​

"I'm in position," Harath reported as he waited for the mercs titanic blunder. The moment the hired gun stepped around the structure, Harath clawed his way over the ridgeline and launched the beskar dagger towards him. Blood spurted out from the blade as it sunk hilt-deep into the guard's throat. Harath cleared the distance, taking hold of him before he could fall to the ground. Never too careful; the exile snapped the man's neck and lowered him to the ground.​

 

[N-K 3PX]

Tags: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Wraith Ravraa Vyshraal ​

A deep vocoder toned grumble was emitted before accepting the order to take lead. N-K did not like the idea of potentially getting shot at first but it was within his prime directive to assist in the mission and eviscerate any and all opposing Force users. After all it was his purpose. Receiving the new information within milliseconds N-Ks photoreceptors flashed lowly with the positioning of new hostiles within the up coming halls. Several modes of vision were tested before his head turned to face the wall. The general direction of the hostiles.

It was clear N-K was able to see things the others could not. " Hostiles confirmed. Information acknowledged. Taking lead." Without hesitation the droid lumbers with quiet footsteps down the west hall. His head constantly scanning from left to right. "Advancing." He stated and sprung into action jumping toward and wall and climbing on the ceiling on all fours across the surface above.

He had a scent. His powerful servo powered limbs took him several meters before stopping in a intersecting corridor that opened up to other hallways. " Possibility of primary target spotted." A picture was sent of what he saw within his hud from his elevated position. Within Lady Irenes office there were two squads of men scattering about the outside of the vast open office. One sat in a chair. " Probability 75%." Two men approached directly below him. N-Ks sensors did not picked them up as they normally would. But he saw them through infrared vision. They were using cloaking technology. A grabble line was pinned to ceiling before the droid fell down apon them as they took in the sight of his team entering the building.

Both of them were abducted promptly with muffled groans and grunts before an audible snap echoed shortly in the halls. Using adhesive to stick their corpses to the ceiling he examined them and scanned their equipment.

" New information. Cloaking technology detected. Approach and enter the halls with extreme caution. Use infrared if available. There may be more hostiles than reported."

 

[Boram Predor]

// Moff Predor //
// Aboard // Pallaeon III-Class Star Destroyer - "Crowstorm"
// Objective // Operation Bandit Wrangler // Keep Self Safe
// Focus // Marlon Sularen | Ryv | Maynard Treicolt | Avernus

-

-

The sounds of battle rushing around the Crowstorm didn't do much to interrupt Moff Predor's rituals of the day, aside from irritate the man more than usual. An aging hand pushed away the cloak around his shoulders to miserably grab a cup of exotic Folgers stimcaf. His assistant had forgot to bring the good stuff. Perhaps his talents would be in his new job of sweeping the entirety of the Crowstorm instead of remembering things.

The bright lights of battle that the Moff was exposed to as the blast doors to the bridge opened did little to change the vaguely annoyed scowl that his face seemed to be stuck in. The saluting figures in her peripheral vision being the only thing to lighten his mood, proving his choice of captain right.

"Keep us out of this skirmish for now, Captain." His tone a low growl as he motioned towards the blockade in front of them. "Better to claim victory than earn it."

The Moff amused himself as he wandered back out into the main body of the star destroyer, mocking the heroes of the Empire who threw themselves on the frontline in his head. It was always better to be alive than to be renowned in battle.

Clearly they didn't care much for living.

Instead of following them into such a folly, Boram decided the better course of action would be to simply stay back and let them take care of it. The flyboy Jedi and Sith would be more than enough to take care a single blockade. Hopefully.

Truth be told the only reason that Moff Predor was here at all was to formally introduce himself to the Scion of the Kyber family, Lady Irene. An alliance with a family as prominent as theirs would be beneficial to securing power in the New Imperial Order when their wars were finished and everyone began vying for power. Being seen as one of Irene's rescuers was the only semblance of a reason why Boram had come to this front to begin with, a valuable enough edge for him to leave his nest.

Boram decided not to waste much more brain power concerning himself over the attack, instead dedicating himself to the nice assortment of exotic dishes that the personal chef he brought with him had prepared. Gently passing his cloak to another one of his attendees as he sat down and placed the dark handkerchief in his uniform collar, ready for what came next.

 

[Bernard]

\\ X-Wing Skywalker-class
\\ Right in the thick of the pirate fleet
\\ Bandit Wrangler ↦ Looking for the head of Bogden's Pirate King (Neutron Star-class Cruiser among the pirate fleet)
\\ Marlon Sularen ; Ryv ; Maynard Treicolt ; Lucien Dooku ; Boram Predor ; Avernus

The doppler distortion of hyperspace dominated the world beyond the glasteel panes. The sight was lost on Bernard, however, who sat with his eyes closed, too busy with the tranquillity of meditation. He sat cross-legged in the cramped cockpit of the unmarked Skywalker-class X-Wing he called his own. In recent months he'd closed himself off from the Force for the most part, only willing to risk opening himself to its energies while he was safely alone within the hyperspace bubble of his ship.

Originally it had been the property of the Jedi Order, but ever since his disappearance into the galactic underworld, it had undergone several modifications that made it hard to distinguish from the average non-Jedi X-Wing. All markings had been scratched away, the serial number filed off entirely. Its electronic IFF tags had been overloaded with commonplace tech and the chassis altered in specific places to make its form appear different enough to be distinguished at first glance. Anyone who'd served an extensive amount of time with the machine would still recognize it, but those who did were few and far between in the galaxy nowadays. So far, the fighter hadn't been recognized as what it truly was anywhere in the galactic underworld.

He furrowed his brows as uncomfortable electricity crawled up his spine. It was no electrical malfunction, but rather a metaphysical sensation based within the Force. An entirely imagined phenomenon brought about by his meditations. Discomfort, while not necessarily so, manifested only when fate was trying to communicate an error to him. Some mistake he'd made further back on the event tree he found himself traversing.

Stars turn from lines to points again as the hyperspace bubble around the X-Wing collapses and Bernard finds himself in real space again. Unprepared, he reaches for the control stick of the starfighter and opens his eyes, only to find himself engulfed in a conflagrating ball of fire.

Before his body could even react he had already reached out with the Force to manipulate the stick to veer his course starboard the same moment that the X-Wing emerged from hyperspace. The barrage of green laser bolts streaked past his cockpit and below the fighter's wings. Less than a second later he'd opened his eyes and wrested the stick from the control of the Force, yanking it hard to port. The ship began to careen hard left and into a roll as it gracefully danced around the path of a Headhunter, stabilizing again behind the other fighter. With a single pull of the trigger, the X-Wing's cannon came alive and blasted the Headhunter into little more than a rapidly dispersing gas cloud.

Bernard flipped a switch on the console, releasing the X-Wing's S-foils and relocking them in attack position. The force pushing him into his seat relented enough to make breathing that little bit easier as the ship lost a small portion of its speed. At the same time, his preternatural instincts were sworn to silence, his connection to the Force diminished as he chose to cloak his presence within it behind a veil of obscurity.

It took him several moments to fully piece together the scene, finding reality to be quite divergent from what he had expected. He'd exited hyperspace in the middle of an all-out naval battle between a fleet flying many colours and what his sensors told him were ships belonging to the New Imperial Order. The former he could reconcile with his intel, even if they numbered many times more than what he'd expected, but the latter had been wholly unanticipated. Their presence meant there was a timer on the head of Bogden's infamous pirate king. Somewhere within the fleet of independents, his Neutron Star-class cruiser had fallen in line with this blockade, it was just a matter of identifying where. A task that was easier said than done.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

// OUTRIDER // Saber One
// OBJECTIVE // Bandit Wrangler
// FOCUS // Ryv | Marlon Sularen | Lucien Dooku | Boram Predor | Bernard | Avernus

<"Well- about time they both put the heat on the Sith."> Outrider relayed through the starfighter based comms to Paragon as he surged inline with Sularen's command to meet the opposing starfighters. Willing the s-foils to pry apart with a hydraulic hiss the Saber-class was primed for the attack. The targetting computer linked between the console system and the HUD displayed from the pale orange visor atop Outrider's gaze splayed out a target rich environment.

This would be a good day. Behind the sticks, Maynard had only met his equal once before in a Sith-Imperial Captain. But outside of the jurisdiction of the crimson saber, the S-IMPs weren't the catch of today. Pirates, easy prey. Even so, the astral rolls of the dice and uncertainty of starfighter combat couldn't well the hubris too much. Sure thing, Maynard had his ability and the force which coursed through him and served to enhance it, really the only innate ability which he'd all but mastered, creating a precise feel of his senses over the starfighter and its position relative to everything else in the space around him.

Reeling up the violet glowing thrusters of his X-Wing, Outrider surges out toward the screen of opposing starfighters, threading the needle to cross past the formation. Activating the inertial compensator built into the vessel to will the fighter on its axis to face the opposing fight screen - his targeting computer painting a lock on one of the opposing fighters almost immediately before he squeezes his finger down to fire a punishing volley of crimson into the golden thruster burn of the vehicle before its sent ablaze, the fires washing over the pointed fusalage of the fighter.

To the Serenno prince's call for help, Outrider was quick to intercept the fighters on aft, picking up the exchange on his visual scanners (his eyes) before swooping in behind the ebon hull of the Midnight, pulling one of the intercepting fighters into a lock before pressing his thumb down to send a brilliant missile surging out in a tracked explosion, swiveling the guns of the wing mounted blaster cannons to pull the other fighter into his sight, squeezing down on the trigger to send off another rip of crackling crimson to knock out the other fighter, leaving Lucien a clean tail.

<"Alrighty, Prince. You're all clear."> Maynard says, the starfighter corps Captain all but dictating the man's callsign.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: SIA# 0040 //: LUCKY
//: MISSION //: Board Hapan Battle Dragon
//: FOCUS //: Hunter Blackburn
//: EQUIPMENT //: Signature

The assignment was simple enough on paper, for the most part. Allyson Locke kept to herself as she made routine checks on her power armor, she seemed absent-minded about the group she was in, but every one of their faces had been downloaded into her files. The SIA agent was someone who would catalog faces for her benefit, having lost her memory before the habit was hard to kill. The armor would flash from Time to Time as she reset settings and added information to its internal memory chips. She exhaled, trying to calm that tingling feeling she felt from the several eyes that seemed locked on her. They didn’t trust her, and she didn’t blame them. She was a new face in their tight-knit group.​

Allyson was also an SIA agent. There was no hiding that fact from them; being transparent felt it was the smartest thing to do with the troopers. At least build that small but of trust. A hand caught her balance as she looked towards the rest of the ship for the first time since they took off. Contact had was made, and the Corellian shut off the setting programs for the skin-tight power armor.​

Infiltration missions were her specialty, and she smirked as she moved towards the front of the group. The one that seemed to be in charge decided that she would be the one to open the door for them. She gave Adrial a small smirk and a cute wink, trying to show that his distrust wasn’t going to bother her in the least. Of course, the men were in a perfect position to shoot her in her back, but she didn’t want to let them know that she was aware of this.​

“Just a moment before we jump in.” Holding up her hand, she kept the men at bay for just a second. Two small spiders released from the back of her armor and crawled into the hole. Each spider sliced quickly through the ship’s internal cameras, and this gave the Corellian a visual of the guards filing into the different areas preparing to cut them off. The spiders quickly exploded the lights and gave access codes that would allow each of the groups access through the ship freely.​

“Time to go, boys. Hope you can keep up.” She jumped through the spiders, continuously fending off any anti slicing tactics the ship tried to implement. The long hallway, sparking from exploded lights, but there had been a group that had made their way into the corridor the invaders had blasted. The makeshift flash bomb had blinded the group. Drawing a pistol, the Corellian shot at the disoriented men, hitting the two she shot at in the calf, causing them to fall. “In a few moments,” She looked to Adrial, “Your guys should have a full blueprint of the ship with access codes. Sounds good?” ​

 

[Vaulkhar]

// Executor //
// Objective // ?
// Focus // Lucina Centaris

---

---

Ignoring the sounds of battle raging behind him, Vaulkhar ripped his finger from the man's skull. He wrapped the gauntlet decorating his left hand over the already broken man's face, dropped his iron-like grip upon the force, and slowly dragged him towards a nearby table. Grunts and groans sounded around him as Nova-Squadron decimated the guards who managed to push into the room after the Minister, but it meant little to the fallen Jedi. He held faith in the men tasked to accompany him for such trivial matters. The Executor's focus remained on the crying man locked in his grasp. Stepping up to the table, Vaulkhar slowly lifted the man in the air, his cybernetic arm treating the fully grown man like a toy, all before slamming his form into the table. The Bastard lifted the Minister again, once more slamming down into the cracking surface. By the third impact, the table cracked, and Vaulkhar's victims laid bloody on the ground, blubbering for mercy through broken teeth.​

​

<</ Room cleared Executor. />> ​

​

Vaulkhar's baleful gaze broke away from the pitiful man, attention settling on the commander.​

​

<</ Please Proceed. />> ​

​

Slowly, the Executor's mask pivoted back to the Minister's prone form. The room grew cold as Vaulkhar latched onto the force, imposing his will on the cosmic power with but a second thought. An outstretched hand lifted the man from the remains of his desk, dragging him through the air and into the waiting grasp of the fallen Jedi. His gauntlets tightened around his neck, drawing blood as flesh tore beneath the jagged metal, making up the simple armaments. Vaulkhar's chest rose as he exhaled deeply, the room grew even colder as the nearby color seemed sucked from the air, replaced by shades of ceaseless grays.​

​

"Do you feel that pain, Minister?" Vaulkhar straightened, his eyes emanating a crimson glow as the man's body went rigid in his grasp. "This pain is the final pain you will ever feel. It is the feeling of your body breaking down upon itself as I drain every last drop of your life essence and use it to fan the flames of my being," his hollow tone seemed stronger with each passing second. The Minister, however, noticeably grew weaker. His body stopped struggling as his skin grayed. What hair decorated his head became thin, eventually shriveling up and falling away outright. A dark mist seeped out from the man's skin, connecting the duo in a tether of inky blackness. "You've likely put everything you've had into this existence of yours, Minister. And do you want to know the worst thing about that?" the Executor dragged him slower, his crimson gaze locked onto the man's eyes, even as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.​

​

"It will amount to absolutely nothing," Vaulkhar's grip tightened, wrenching the man's neck to the side. A sick, crunching noise echoed throughout the room as his neck snapped. The corpse fell to the floor, completely forgotten as the Executor turned on his heel and looked towards the commander. "How goes the other objectives, Commander?"​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

GA Represent // X-02 Saber Class X-Wing // Troska
Ryv // Marlon Sularen // Maynard Treicolt // Bernard // Lucien Dooku ​

There were several other T-65s that peppered amongst the stars, but she couldn't...talk to any of them. Only watch while they took formations that she followed out of practice. Part that was out of practice, was flying alongside TIEs versus against them. The cog-in-the-machine reminders of Kaili nagged in the recesses of her mind, but she shoved them aside to focus on the at hand objectives, rather than having a contest of moralities in the cockpit. Besides, if the supportive relationship of The Alliance and the New Imperial Order continued, she might have the chance to sidle right on in one of those TIEs. Maybe just the once.

The range-to-target indicator on the console that scrolled meters off by the hundreds as they approached the bogies, all the while, Loske could only hear the thumping of the tunes her astromech had selected from the nostalgic playlist of Saber's lore.

Comms array was damaged in the hyper jump. We're deafened.

"I know, I can tell. The silence isn't exactly in character for anyone here-- can you puh-lease get it back online? I'd like to be able to hear what's--ope!" A swift heel of her hand to the yoke rolled her starboard to avoid an onslaught of plasma. The emerald bolts skittered across the glimmering sheen of her shields, traversing from the transparisteel viewport of her fighter to the wingtips until they were harmless. Quickly, she snapped open the S-foils to match the attack positions of everyone else. Didn't need a comm system to be online to figure that out.

Frank, limited to the emotional spectrum of an AI droid, was unable to translate his utter guffawing at the implications of his pilot. What do you think I'm doing?

"I have a feeling you like a captive audience."

I like an appreciative audience.

If exasperation had a tone, it was amplified through the cockpit to the droid in its divot "Frank!"

While the astromech fretted about with the frazzled communications array, Loske focused on the targeting systems. They were fully operational, at least.

Several incoming messages are marked!

"Gee, it'd sure be nice to hear them rather than about them, Frank."

Flying deaf wasn't ideal with this many players on the field -- that said, she pulled to stick to the perimeters to avoid becoming a liability and pick off any of the wayward bogies that slipped past the targeting ranges of those who could share intel.

Sloppy seconds squints coming our way.

"Seeing isn't the problem."

Frank got the point, and refocused on rebooting the comms system. There were some flashes that would have been distracting if the pilot wasn't so focused on the incoming targets. Keep the pirates off the shuttles. Loske punched up a graph that overlaid on the track of the incoming foes. They were coming in rather obliquely in their arc to avoid the mark of the other Sabers, which put them in a spot for her aiming reticle to turn red and a target-lock tone fill the cockpit. She tightened on the tigger and launched a torpedo at an approaching fighter. Shards and fire were the result.

The X-Wing peeled from its previous position to edge nearer the spherical thrustships and out of the volley of the more nimble fighters. Switching to lasers, she linked all four then picked out her new target.

One that picked her out as well. She decreased the volume of the target lock incoming siren - fully aware of the incoming fire that was queued up from the Fat Man. Her trajectory shifted from a typical straight shot to something more difficult to continuously track. The low hum of the siren soon muted as she closed in on her objective. Her weapons never cooled, volley after volley concentrated on the circular carrier with little impact. Perhaps the shields were weakening, it was hard to tell.

"Man, this thing is tough." She murmured through her teeth to nobody, because Frank still hadn't done his job. "Kind of annoying a rag-tag group can amass ships this size just to oppress, hm? Actually, don't reply. Just keep focusing on getting me back online."

Fighters from within the carrier prepared to rally and deploy.

 

[Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt]

​

Objective I : Infiltrate
Tags : Wraith Ravraa Vyshraal N-K 3PX

---

---

Haunting the breach as the droid set out. Lyra’s eyes tracked the red dots hit by Garrick as the man went about cleaning the house; the other three rested at the back of her mind. The place was crawling. Jerking her helm as she threw a hand down the opposite hall, setting a hard pace to keep up with the N-K 3PX.

<”Yovae, Deppe on rear. Ravraa Vyshraal on me. Move out,”> the Commander said, sweeping down the western corridor, passing luxuries and quarter doors.. The thing was fast, efficient. Rigid and bent low as they sleuthed through the palace with the team in tow, she had chosen a handful of vetted men and the chatter on the comms were non existent.

Following the trail deeper into the bowels of the palace. Her footsteps were measured and only the faintest of shuffling might have been picked up; but the audio receptors were tuned to be that sensitive. There was the ebb and flow of patrols traffic reading and disappearing on the fringes of the radar and she slowed several dots pressed a hall over. The woman waiting, pressed up against the plaster and gilded walls monitoring before flagging the men with her ahead.

When the radar flickered to match up with the incoming information, HUD flooded by the images and data the droid was acquiring. Seventy five percent was a gamble in her opinion and she weighed the numbers. Bursting in for a firefight, as if. Raising a hand and throwing it flat down, signalling to the men as they dogged the trail of the droid. She took a knee at the next corner just a few hallways behind N-K 3PX.

The one downside to the HUD powering their eyes on the operation, you had sight in the ninety nine percentage but the thing was inept in the face of true stealth and preventive readings. Just when she had thought things would be quiet.

<”Copy that N-K 3PX, Watchtower One adjust visuals now,”> Lyra’s voice flooded the trooper’s comms. A bad feeling crawling up her spine, she blinked several times to compensate for the change, curbing her ‘enthusiasm’ for the infrared. Weighing the options, she lowered her weapon before adjusting a dial on her vambrace. Unclicking the stealth droid, it was slimmer than a disk. Directing it, she leaned her head out cautiously uttering ‘locate’ cycling through the cerulean screen as a vent outlined on the screen. The droid hovered high, silent and to miss at first glance and it slide right through the vent screen infiltrating the maze unseen; pursuing the office the next section over.

<”N-K 3PX, check for neighboring rooms to the office. Get in range and see if you can pick up on audio confirmation that the target is present. Deploying Augur contingency for visuals retrieval. Watchtower One fan for cover and standby.”>

 

[Lucina Centaris]

// SCAR // NOVA-CLASS //
// OBJECTIVE // TREATY AFFAIR //
// FOCUS // Vaulkhar

The man, nay, monster that stood before the Nova Troopers as they seemed to almost guard the men. Holding them back at gun point. Letting them watch as their leader, the man they were supposed to be guarding, was now being ravaged, stolen, and broken to a whimpering and childish figure. Seeking much, and was found wanting.

Soon, he was killed by the Dark Force User who they accompanied. The Commander looking on as the individual was shown no mercy, no quarter, and was killed via the force in a plethora of ways. Pain was a motivator. As was fear. One that the Executor found very enjoyable it seemed. The black helm turned to one of the guards. Covering his mouth as the Minister was slowly and painfully killed. Ending his existence. The slow eradication of this individual made the guards turn away. The Commander, willing to see these men learn of what would happen to them, closed the distance to one, and forced him to watch. Holding his face at the man as his neck was snapped.

The Black and Gold Clad individual released the man as the body fell. Pushing him to the side as he had seen what would happen.

Turning to the Inquisitor, All that was presented before him was the question of how the other objectives were going.

<</ Operation Bandit Killer is going well. Our Forces are attempting to route them currently. Watchtower has begun. Of course most of kept quiet due to infiltration. />>

Turning to the door in the room, one in which the Minister had closed earlier, kept us separated from the rest of whatever troops the man might have at his disposal. While he was killed for siding with the Sith-Imperialists, The commander had an inkling that he was not the only one here who may have sided with them. For that, he turned back to the man as the guards were still held by gun-point.

<</ Conspirators to the Minister may make it difficult for this Treaty. While feeling their traitorous last breaths leaving the body is appealing. Political games to prevent an uprising may be an option Sir. Instead of Killing the snake, just replace the head to work with our agenda. />>

Looking to the guards who were here, his visor piercing at one in particular who had gotten a slam to the throat earlier looked appealing to him.

<</ For that to happen, There should be no witnesses. />>

A nod of the head was all that was given by the commander. Each one of them went one by one. Taking a blade, a tight hold, or garrote to the throat was all that be required to end them all without much of a fuss. The blue visor looked back at the Skull-faced individual as they were being killed behind him.

<</ The Treaty will be signed one way or another, Sir. Which would you wish to see out? />>

 

[N-K 3PX]

​

Tags: Lyra 'Sybila' Voikryt Wraith Ravraa Vyshraal
Objective: Engaging Sith Knight.


" Orders acknowledged." N-K responded. Disengaging from the ceiling with a light thump, the droid swiftly began to jog further down the halls. His cybernetic limbs clanked lightly into a room to his left. Clear. Crossing the hall his eyes scanned and checked the next room. Clear. There were plenty of room to check but it was the third that was abit of a enigma. Audio sensors registered lightly but there were no visuals what so ever being picked up. N-K promptly began to investigate. Thermal imaging came up negative, as did a proper bio-scan too.

And from behind the faint sound of a weapon fired off. Snap-hiss The dark room glew in a hue of red before a blade fell apon N-Ks backside in a slash. If i was not for his micro sensors the blade would of cut into his power core and that would of been the end of his mission. Instantaneously the droid spun around at the hip in a 180 degree turn activating two orange-red blades with a deep hum. Once again the room lit up in hues of color but the twin lightsaber blades were the only source. " Engaging forc- cce eerrrrr" His broadcast was cut short with the sound metal being crushed. N-K's vocoder and comm unit had been destroyed with an invisible hand.

Darting for the exit the droid slammed against the doorway on his way out and was heaved from the floor and thrust into the hallway wall with a loud crash that echoed throughout the complex. A flurry of orange energy twisted and spun about as the droid rose to his feet. Calculating the probability of a sneak attack a orange blade retaliated at just the right time. Orange and red plasma contained blade clashed violently and for the first time N-K could see his opponent uncloak.

A sith knight...

 

[Trajan Fett]

// MANCATCHER // Saxon-class Patrol Craft
// OBJECTIVE // Extract the fine countess
// FOCUS // Harath Eldar

---

---

---

<"We're always putting our skills to use brother...even if no one gives a damn about Troska. Even still, we're moving our legs, turning the wheel and all that. Could be worse."> Trajan said in reply to Harath's sentiment and it certainly could be. After all, there was at least their sights set toward some ambition at all and not aimlessly toiling for love of money and nothing else. Even if Mandalore had been under Sith control for sometime, the nature of the other children in exile from Manda'yaim made a consolidated crusade all but entirely unfeasible.

<"Sniper it is."> He retorted. Trajan was never a man who had the tact for these missions of subtly and infiltration. Heavy metal bludgeoning tools and flesh melting disruptors were almost always the preferred choice of weaponry. Alas, the latter was almost uniformly against the contractor's interest. Another reason to yearn for the crusade before them.

Climbing into the sniper's nest set in overwatch of the western ridgeface, Trajan climbed down into the fortification to find the man idly peering down the scope of his rifle. Blissfully ignorant of the Mandalorian in full Beskar'gam behind him he knew Harath met his mark immediately before it rung out over the shared comms. Otherwise, he might've tripped the alarm himself. Pressing a closed fist against the back of the man's neck he set his other hand over his forehead, pressing forward and back in the moment he let loose the vibroblade from his knuckle armor plate, sending the metal through the man's throat, the sentry offering up a whimper before collapsing with his death throes.

<"All clear."> Trajan responded.

 

[Gat Tambor]

// "SSD" //
// OBJECTIVE // Getting a product test
// FOCUS // Shute Gunray

---

---

---

Encroaching on the indomitiable mass of pestilence, Gat Tambor entered the command bridge of his own starship, the Pillar Of Annihiliation II. It was an impressive battlecruiser, of Gat Tambor's own make. However it WAS no Lucrehulk III. After his resignation from Viceroy of Christophsis following the 'Confederacy First' Mandate, Gat Tambor had lost access to a great deal of his Confederate assets.

He took pride in his own products but even still, the Lucrehulk was a timeless design. It was beautiful, like a great many of the ancient Confederacy's iconic designs. But the New Imperial Order wouldn't make due with Lucrehulks, vulture droids and B2s. As much as that was the weight of Gat Tambor's legacy, being the craft of his ancestors during the Clone Wars. He would have to be content with the 'wedge' shaped designs which the Imperial had long held as gospel, despite their flaws. He could at least appreciate the traditions of KDY from which they hailed.

"OWEEERERRRRRRR- Shute. You needn't be so cruel, my friend. That is what droids are for. Tell me, how goes our product testing?" Gat Tambor inquired, hovering toward his Corpulency with a low hover beneath his atmospheric suit.