What're You Doing In My Swamp? | First Order Invasion of Galactic Alliance Held Dagobah Hex

[Progflaw99]

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Hex L, 49 Galactic Standard Map​

Estimated 12 hours after the destruction of the ANS Itsukusk​

Bridge of the FIV Executioner​

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Alarms had ceased only several minutes ago, a secondary explosion in the engineering decks sending damage control teams scrambling. A quiet snarl was the only response garnered by a quick bout of comm chatter, relaying the status to the bridge. Sieger Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order stalked the primary bridge of the Resurgent II. His vehement anger could be felt by those in the room - they had won, but only by a margin. Significant damage had crippled his vessel, the entire starboard hangar and surrounding corridors had been evacuated, the loss of life from that area alone staggering. The opening shot of the conflict had seen a proton beam carve a gaping hole in the large star destroyer, destroying nearly half of the vessel’s complement of fighters in a single swoop. Though they were not like to admit, it had been more than a bloodied nose. Through sheer determination and the resolve emboldened by the presence of [member="Samka Derith"]’s battle coordination, the crew of the FIV Executioner had kept her in the fight up until the very end. Now that the fighting was over, it was time to lick their wounds, and wounds there were.

While a good portion of the remaining fleet had remained in the sector to enforce the blockade that had been established, the damaged vessels had been ordered to return to the Anoat Sector for repairs. Even as the battle had raged, calls for reinforcement had been received by sector command - it was that call which had prompted reserve forces to arrive in the sector, delayed by the wide net of interdiction fields. Even now, the FIV Executioner idled, far too damaged to make the jump with the rest of the returning wounded. Soon though, according to the reports.

“Get me a line to Grand Admiral Tregessar.. And the Fleet Admiral of the Sixth Fleet Immediately.” Sieger’s command was carried out immediately amidst a chorus of “Yes my lord”. Control had been restored to the primary bridge after the initiation of Protocol Omicron, Commander Lupus once more overseeing the efforts to return the Executioner to berth. His efforts had seen him a battlefield promotion to Captain. He hadn’t needed the promotion to carry out the part. Even now his watchful eye observed the commander’s console before him, orders issued via tactile input on the gloss screen. She was in rough shape, but the hull was holding - for now. According to the probability calculations, they’d be able to make one hyperspace jump and reversion without risking a collapse of the structural supports of the starboard hull. Thankfully, Varonat wasn’t far. Soon enough they’d be prepped to make the journey, but first, Sieger had other priorities.

With a line open to the commanding officers of the two major forces in play during their assault, the Supreme Leader spoke. Not of grand schemes and valor, not a motivating speech of duty and honor, nor of sacrifice and determination - no, Sieger spoke plainly.

“Grand Admiral, Fleet Admiral,” he paused.“You are ready to proceed?”

Hours ago the reserve forces from the Anoat sector had arrived, both to bolster the forces of the First Order and in many cases, fully replace the haggard crews of the battered vessels, in some cases however the command staff were transferred to a new vessel. The battle was won, but the war? It was just beginning. A shower of sparks interrupted Sieger’s thoughts as a console in one of the command trenches crackled to life. Officers already occupying it responded quickly, spraying down the console with one of the specialized extinguishers. The deck and several consoles all about the bridge had been damaged as Sieger fought two particularly persistent Jedi. They’d managed to make it aboard his ship, that much had been of their own accord - and then they had been in his domain. What had transpired between then and now had been harrowing, but navigated with ease. The Jedi had been far too eager. Their eagerness had seen them routed, unable to break the hold of the First Order on the sector. Now they would continue to pay the price.

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Hex M, 50 GSM \\ Dagobah​

En Route to Dagobah System | Present Time | Hyperspace​

FIV Ziggurat | Taskmaster-class Escort Carrier | Primary Hangar​

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[ Theme ]​

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Weapon. Check. Gear. Check. Comm Freaks. Check. Everything was set. An aching pain sent a sneer tracing across the Colonel’s features behind the face of his helmet. He’d been picked up shortly after the battle by a support frigate, scooping up errant escape pods that had either been damaged or failed to function - now he was back in the game. *Endless war.* Rolf thought to himself. *This is it.*

The First Order fleet pushed onward past their newly established interdiction fields, reserve forces bolstering their numbers as they set their eyes on the horizon. Dagobah. Even now Rolf could feel the subtle shift as the Ziggurat carved through hyperspace towards its destination. *And hell followed with him.* The brief downtime had been enough to re-equip and recover from his last excursion — this time the mission wasn’t search and destroy though — at least not primarily.

Scattered reports indicated a massive battle near the planet of Dagobah, scrambled Alliance and Empire messages broadcast not only across encrypted lines but in the open. Long-range scans indicated a massive battle but even now the victor was unknown. Conflicting reports gathered from the FOSB were inconclusive - they would have to find out for themselves. They were headed into an unknown, well equipped but an unknown nonetheless. *Why Dagobah?* he thought, simultaneously bringing up a database summary of the planet on his datapad. As he pored over the information he shook his head. *Useless.* A planet so insignificant had spurred a confrontation with the Galactic Empire? *Perhaps not as insignificant as we thought. Certainly not a place to establish a foothold in the sector…* There were a number of other planets nearby that would have served that purpose better - and yet, here they were, barreling towards it.

The scattered communications they’d gleaned from long range were mostly broken and unreadable, but what they did hear was that there were soldiers of the Galactic Empire trapped on the surface. Whether they arrived to an Alliance battle fleet or a victorious Empire battle group, they knew what their objective was. Reconnaissance in force. The reinforcements to the L-49 hex had seen their damaged gear replaced, members of Ops Team Harpy replenished, even some new weaponry fresh from the First Order’s production line. It was a good day to be a Stormtrooper… and yet. A foreboding presence clung to the Colonel like a bad dream does to the newly awakened. Gritting his teeth as the shrill tone of the reversion alarm filled the hangar of the Ziggurat, he pushed the feeling to the back of his mind. It wasn’t his place to ask questions of the Supreme Leader, but to carry out his will - come hell or high water. Sometimes both. No sense worrying about what they might find when they arrived until they got there. It wouldn’t be long now.

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Notes:​

Link to the OOC: Click Here!​

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Start Date: 1/24/18​

End Date: 3 Weeks Standard Unless Otherwise Negotiated​

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OOC:​

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Welcome to the Invasion thread! If you haven't yet read, I'll include a brief summary of the premise below as well, otherwise it can be found in the OOC. The First Order has yet to fill its ally slots, and the Alliance has an unlimited number of ally slots so if you're interested, head on over to the OOC and tag one of the appropriate faction admins! You will also be able to find various artwork but please remember, unless explicitly offered to everyone, please ask an artist before using their work! As far as the thread goes, have fun, tell a good story, and just try to enjoy the course of the roleplay! Should you find yourself at odds with another writer, please reach out to them first to resolve the issue. Likewise if someone comes to you, please understand that not every criticism or request is intentionally offensive - don't assume a tone or insult, rather look at the content of what the other person is saying! I won't go into a tangent about language and text, but basically follow this pretty simple rule as best you can: ​

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"Don't be a dick!" (Wheaton's Law)​

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If you find that you are unable to resolve a disagreement between yourself and another writer, please reach out to your faction admins. That's one of the reasons we're here is to facilitate communication! Also important to remember is that just because someone is asking for clarification doesn't mean they're attacking you! If you're not sure how to get involved in the thread, but would like to, the OOC is the best place to reach out, as well as Discord (However the former is more reliable).

Any additional updates regarding this thread will be updated with a RED date log in the OP (This Post) of the invasion as well as the OOC thread.​

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[Tryp West]

Location: Middle of Nowhere
Objective: Get to tha choppa!
Allies: Sammy and Alex (GA)
Enemies: Stormtroopers apparently! (FO [member="Khonsu Amon"] incoming)

Then:
She’d signed on as a guide for their botany foray. Not married but acted like they had been forever just without the sleeping together part. But then, she wasn’t going to judge either way. Sammy was a Bothan, Alex was a Rodian and both of them were unbearably hilarious together. Tryp had been to the swamps of Dagobah before, and knew a couple of places with some weird plants that might be interesting. They provided the ship (which was good, since hers was toast), she provided the experience, and off they’d gone.

Of course, they had been away from the ship with the Empire had shown up.

There was nothing for them in this conflict. No locals that needed protecting, not really. Why would anyone even attack Dagobah? None of them understood. All they knew was that it was time to get out of dodge, even if it meant cutting the trip short.

None of them had expected to find the squadron of storm troopers inspecting their ship when they returned.

Tryp couldn’t have said, later, who shot first. But at the sound of the first blaster bolt the situation devolved quickly into chaos. Probably the only thing that saved them was the fact that they weren’t wearing white armor in the middle of a swamp. Cut off from the entry to the ship, the three had held their own, Sammy ending up with a shot to the calf, and Tryp with a singe across her face from a near miss, but nothing serious. They’d driven the troopers back, and while they couldn’t get to the hatch to get into the ship, the ship was offering them excellent cover that the troopers simply didn’t have.

Now:
For the moment, it was a stalemate- nine troopers dead or as good as (Tryp was sorry for that, but there was little choice when someone was shooting to kill, so she wasn’t that sorry), which left three by her reckoning on the other side of a great sump of a fallen tree.

“Okay, I tink dat if’n ya two cover me, I kin make it ta da hatch. Once I’m inside I kin cover ya or turn da ship, let ya both on board.”

The pair nodded, Sammy wincing and Tryp deciding she’d definitely turn the ship if she could- having him run out into the open, even with cover fire would be a disaster. And the way Alex was looking at him, she could tell he’d be there, one arm around his waist and holding him up the whole time. No, better to turn.

“Gimme a minute ta catch my breath,” she said, mentally preparing for that dash.

Of course, she didn’t know that the remaining troopers had called for help. Or just who was coming for them.

They weren’t out of the wood…. Or, in this case, the swamp…. Just yet.

 

[Mishel Kryze]

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Mishel hadn't been on Dagobah long, in fact, she barely had time to check in. Pushing her lips to the side as she dusted her now greased up shirt, the blue color on her jacket faded. Forcing an exhale the young rogue padawan didn't need the force to figure out the sense of urgency in these parts, she took out her small holopad and typed out a quick message to her combat-ally-turned-mentor.


To: [member="Ember Farseer"]
RE: Where ARE YOU?!

ON DAGOBAH.

SEEKING DAWN OF DAGOBAH NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO FIND IT BEFORE.

WOULD BE GREAT IN THE NEW SABER.

MEET YOU ON D'QAR SOON.

- MISHEL NOREN

The forward operations base wasn't exactly her choice in landing but everything else seemed gorramed to the Netherworld and back. Armed now only with a basic lightsaber she made in a hurry, and a blaster pistol she took from the Outer Rim Coalition before heading out here the teenager looked around the base. People were being tended to, a fierce battle had taken place and if the holonews had anything to suggest it wasn't a pretty one. Having shaken her Order of Ren roots Mishel figured she had one of two options, sit around doing nothing or help. "Hey!" She shouted at someone who looked like they were wearing a uniform, although it hadn't been anything she'd seen before. Even in the past, her conflicts were mostly with Jedi she didn't see any of the soldiers or rebels in person.

"Hey!" She shouted again, "you guys need help with anything, besides..." Mishel gestured to the wounded and then the scores where promises of death had once made their presence known. Of course, the teenager had no idea who she was talking to, other than they looked like they should know what they were doing. Then again, she was certain that there were plenty of times as Disciple of Ren when she should have known what she was doing. Alas, "whoa, whoa, whoa - easy." Hands in the air, why do they always wanna shoot the darksider first, eh? "Listen, names Mishel Noren just came over here by way of Utapau, on a mission from Ashira."

By the daft look on the man's face Mishel knew she wasn't getting anywhere, and sighed heavily.

"Utapau, huh?"

"Yeah... I'm taking the scenic route to Alzoc, just look, you guys..." Look like fresh chit, and in need of a body that isn't nearly as broken. The teenager's cybernetic hand moved and then her actual hand did as well. Right and then left, left then right again, "just point me in the direction of who I need to talk to, sera?"

He looked at Mishel quizzically and gestured with a thumb to the base entrance, "in there, might find a few folks who could use you."

"Thanks pal." The girl sidestepped and crossed to the base with the heavy doors, doors she hadn't seen to be this heavy and thick since she was running around on G'Roh slashing away at Ssi'Ruuk. Mishel swore she felt her cybernetic hand flinch at the memory.

"Bloody meatshields..." The guy muttered as he walked away from her.

An audible groan from the former disciple of ren, good thing my neurotransponder is topped off, or this would've gotten ugly - fast.

[member="Aryn Teth"] | [member="Taeli Raaf"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]

 

[Robogeber]

Allies: [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Khonsu Amon"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance
Location: FIV Allegiance, Command Bridge
Theme: He's Here For Us | Michael Giannccino

The last twenty four hours for Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber had been exciting ones. He’d seen to the end of the Itsukusk, the demise of the Galactic Alliances Supreme Commander Ven, and the defence of First Order interests in the Hydian Way. As the pursuit of the beleaguered GADF forces drew further into Alliance space, the Fleet Admiral felt elated as his fleet, the First Orders Sixth Fleet, managed to hold back the full weight of a counterattack, and now press their own aggressive campaign.

Despite his current physical condition, and the years of career stagnation beneath the likes of Fiolette Yvarro, Rausgeber had persevered. This in the face of, in his mind, Yvarro’s nepotism and the downright jealousy he speculated fermented against him within Central Command. And now Carlyle predicted that his recent victory, and in particular, the casualties inflicted would net him a nice, neat promotion. Grand Admiral, at last. A rank many only dreamed of. It was only right, and Supreme Leader Ren was a pragmatic man. He would not, nay could not deny him. Supreme Leader had personally called him to order the pursuit, he had been there to witness his greatness after all! To bear witness to his excellent leadership which saw an impressive casualty list, including the foolish Nemo Ven and the jewel of the GADF's ramshackle crown. Surely, Carlyle's elevation was assured, was it not?

However, now Rausgebers attention had to be turned elsewhere, as he crossed the bridge of the FIV Allegiance. As the First Order Navy’s vehement mission to press their supremacy continued, Carlyle had found himself transferred to the Allegiance. A decision he was not particularly happy, to undertake. While the Reprisal, and her escorts now established a checkpoint at interdiction station Tiraxis, and commenced repairs, their commander was now forced upon a mere cruiser. It felt like a snub to a man who was used to the grand scale battle of battlecruisers, and star destroyers. Not this, inept, and inadequate vessel.

Nonetheless, the idea of himself having achieved some form of greatness buoyed Carlyle's otherwise beleaguered and irritable mood. It was now time to finish off the Alliance’s fleet, and finally end them together. The droid sat aboard the command deck, in a trance, as he thought about his darling Morro. About how he would return to Avalonia, a hero of his people, and its Empire. It was, to say the least, a glorious feeling, one which filled his circuitry and personality module with a sense of smug satisfaction. But the battle was not over. Not yet. The might of the First Order's Sixth Fleet now continued to press forward, its attack rigorous and unrelenting.

"Today, is the day we shatter the pathetic Alliance's illusion of peace and security." The Fleet Admiral callously began, alerting the busy crew to his presence. A twisted smirk pressed upon the holographic representation of his visage. The melodic hum of repulsorlift generator carried through the Predator-Class Star Destroyers command deck, as the Fleet Admiral moved to his preferred station, at the fore of the vessel.

"Coming out of lightspeed now, sir." The Helmsman barked. The droid turned, and graced the lieutenants report with a nod, before returning to the viewport. Within seconds, the a blast of brilliant blue light made the whole bridge glow, as the Alleigance dropped into the atmosphere of Dagobah, along with a massive fleet of battlecruisers, and star destroyers, ready to continue the First Order's pursuit. Dagobah was a piece of the puzzle to be solved. From what intelligence reports the First Order managed to receive, Tanomas Graf's imperial fiefdom had launched an attack around the same time as the First Orders own blockade upon the swampy world of Dagobah. However, its resolution, still unknown. Ergo, the stopover, before the Sixth Fleet continued its pursuit.

Although Rausgeber had worked with his supposed Galactic Empire before, the Fleet Admiral felt some trepidation over Graf's success. Sure, his former colleague had decimated the Silver Jedi cultists, but the Galactic Alliance was another type of beast. Driven by the same insidious ideology, sure, but with some hints of pragmatism sprinkled in there. The Fleet Admiral waited some time, in silence, before prompting a report, "Do we have any comms signals, on galactic imperial frequencies?" Rausgeber inquired.

The Signals Officer's head peaked up from her console, and she shook her head, "We're receiving a lot of static, and garbled transmissions sir." The young officer informed the Fleet Admiral. This was not good, not good at all. Although he had harboured his own thoughts, and beliefs in regard to the operation, he had hoped that there would be a Galactic Empire fleet to greet them. "None of it we can make hide nor hair about, admiral." The Signals Officer continued. "It could be jamming, encryption, atmospheric interference, or all three, but nothing solid." She disappointingly reported,"But I'll see if we can decode some data, sir."

Rausgeber nodded, and gently raised a hand dismissing her, perhaps scanning would be a more effective method. "Ensign, do we have any telemetry of the ground below?" He inquired, his tone darkening somewhat, "Can we make out any anomalies, or anything down there?" He continued, "Troop movements, life signs, otherwise?"

The Scanning Officer shook his head, and licked his bushy upper lip, turning a little pale beneath the Fleet Admirals gaze. Withering. "Negative Fleet Admiral," The Scanning Officer replied, "It could be jamming, or something, but, the whole planet, it's alive." Carlyle raised a quizzical brow, and moved down the command deck, the remainder of the crew, starring in silence as the droid slowly hummed. From over his shoulder, Rausgeber read the reading, and glared. This would not be as easy as he had thought.

"Looks like we'll have to do things the old fashioned way." Carlyle derisively droned, he turned to the Signals Officer, "Take this down lieutenant, and begin to transmit to the FIV Aggressor," He commanded coldly, his body language stern, yet simultaneously considered. "I want a detachment deployed to the surface." He ordered, "Stormtroopers, army, FOSB, any assets we can deploy at short notice." he barked, "Just get them down there to perform reconnaissance, and verify the situation below." Carlyle continued, "Should this have turned out as I have expected," He meticulously continued, "I want a medical team ready to dispatch, and recover any Galactic Empire personnel, and have them evacuated."

The Signals Officer clicked away at her terminal, and once completed, turned to the Fleet Admiral, "Anything else, sir?"

Carlyle considered this proposition carefully, before deciding to continue, "Yes, inform Admiral Braisley she has permission to continue the operation as its executive" The Fleet Admiral ordered, "She will finish off any Alliance remnants, while I oversee our operations here." Carlyle commanded, "Once our task force is deployed, she is to continue on, or else our trail runs cold." He again allowed himself a pause, "Helmsman, move us closer to the surface, we will prepare ourselves to provide, support."

First Order Sixth Fleet, Battlegroup Imeprator, Imperator Actual

Spoiler

Name: FIV Allegiance
Class; Predator-Class Star Destroyer
Shields: 100/100
Hull: 100/100
Firing at: None

Name: FIV Stamina
Class: Fortan-II Class Heavy Corvette
Shields: 100/100
Hull: 85/100
Firing At: None

Name: FIV Bravery
Class: Bolt-II Class Picket Corvette
Shields: 100/100
Hull: 72/100
Firing At: None

 

[Asharad Graush]

Location: Hyperspace​

Objective: Investigate​

Allies: The First Order​

Enemies: No One (Soon: [member="Taheera Sollo"])​

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Graush was free at last to execute his own will on Dagobah. [member="Sieger Ren"] wasn't going to be a presence in the Dagobah system, not one that he knew about, but the Sith Lord's own achievements in the L-49 Hex didn't come with the laurels that were originally expected. Crimson orbs fluttered shut. Alone is how he found himself in the passenger room of the Daisya Infiltrator. Parting ways with his cousin, [member="Therran Graush"] and the Bureau Agent [member="The Major"], the Supreme Commander was compelled to reward them for their rules in the capture of the ANS Red Veil, but the Imperial Warmachine was already preparing for the next mission, and that was to Dagobah.

Running through his own thoughts, the newly equipped cybernetic arm clenched tightly.

No decisive reports as to the success or failure of the Galactic Empire.

Over and over he mentally went over the reports and the briefings from the Security Bureau on the happenings in this sector of space. There was no ill will held for the Empire's Grand Moff. Besides his apparent betrayal, he had proved a strong enough leader to survive this far, and to shatter the Silver Jedi Order in multiple engagements.

It appears Tanomas Graf has earned his Empire.

Blinking his eyes open, he took note of the red light blinking on and off in the dim ready room.

Reversion in less than ten, and then he would see the result of the Empire's strength in person.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Dagobah: Force Nexus Assembly Area
Coren Starchaser, Jedi Master
[member="Rekha Kaarde"], [member="Lyra Sunfell"], [member="Varex"], [member="Sol Stazi"], [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"], [member="Jyoti Nooran"] (?) [member="Veino Garn"]

”You might not admit it, Starchaser, but you’re a Jedi. Act it."

That was the last thing that Grand Marshall Omai Rhen had said to him before he departed for Dagobah. It was one of those statements to get him thinking. Coren Starchaser was a zealot for the Galactic Alliance, and always there for the New Jedi Order, regardless of the Corellian’s stance on the Jedi itself. But lately? Well, Rhen was calling Coren a Jedi Master, not a rogue, a Jedi. And it was making the latter thing. That was why he had stuck around on Dagobah. He had spent an extra day here, helping to set up camp to heal the wounded who couldn’t be moved, and gather support for this world’s repairs. The Empire had hit but it was repelled, for now. The world hosted not much, Class E, but it did have something that Starchaser himself was concerned with.

That Dark Side Nexus.

That was why he was heading to where he was. And he was greeted by a few soldiers from Alliance of Awesome, a mix of his own Galactic Alliance, and others who had come to their aid, the Confederacy and Silvers. Was nice to have friends. “Sir, we’ve begun deploying ray shield traps and automated defenses. Not much for droids. Though, if we wanted to go that route, the Confederacy boys seem to be willing.” Said the lieutenant, a pathfinder.

“Very good, Lieutenant. Have we had others arriving from the Silvers and CIS yet? I sent word for a few to head this way. I want to make sure…” He pointed. “That area is closed off.” It was the cave. He didn’t want anyone getting in or out. It was why he called a few people he could trust over, and some of the dark siders. Dark could help, as much as he hated to admit it.

He didn’t want to lose anyone over it, but he and the others were Sentinels, trained to hunt down the dark side. He had two with him now, nothing major, but it helped to have back up. Though, getting some Jensaarai over here would be nice. They double-teamed the Force, after all. And he knew their leader was a beacon of the good side. “Alright, we’re going to handle the inner part. Jedi style.” Coren grinned, helmet of his armor still off. The man carried his Power9 and lightsaber ontop of his Starhawk armor. It was going to be one of those days.

Then maybe some tropical weekend? He could only hope.

“Very good, sir.” The lieutenant stated. Nodding as Coren stepped past, he turned to some of his own soldiers, a mixed bag, some from the Alliance, others from the ‘Federacy, and more from the Silvers. “You heard him. We need to keep the traps up. I want some teams out, word is not every Imperial left this system. Lets make sure we get them off this rock. Break into search teams, report at regular intervals.” This was why Coren didn’t try to force-train all his soldiers, they did a damned good job on their own.

“Jedi, we need to make sure that this is set up with traps. Remember, its going to call to you… Don’t let it.” Coren ordered falling into the Force, setting up a barrier around the team for now. He knew what was going to be done and he was going to filter the dark side into the shield, to keep people from coming to the well.

Foward Operating Base
Jedi Sentinel Tulli Tien

Elsewhere, at the Forward Operating Base, one of Coren’s Jedi Sentinels was deligating orders around. Calling for Silver Sentinel and other support down towards where Starchaser was, at the nexus. The Sullustan Jedi had nodded to a few, who were getting on one of the airspeeders. He had seen [member="Mishel Noren"] walking about. “Where are you heading to?” He looked at her, knowing she wasn’t a face he knew, but definitely a Force wielder. “If the infantry are giving you a hassle here, we do have some Jedi business to attend to in the swamps.” Was he sounding like an NPC who gave quests? Yes. The truth was that he was here to watch the rest of the arrivals that have shown up in the past few hours, and ensure the dark siders were taken care of.

And alert Coren about the ones that weren’t.

 

[Zef Halo]

Objective: Exfil invaluable FOSB asset​

Allies: First Order, Galactic Empire [member="Varas Kyrel"]​

Enemies: Galactic Alliance​

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The warmachine was on the move again. A relentless force of power headed to the recently ended Battle of Dagobah between the Alliance and the Empire. Reports of the outcome seemed to indicate that the Empire's offensive was halted but at a terrible cost. Upon learning of the existence of a valuable FOSB agent on the surface of Dagobah, Therran focused on that. An asset that would possess detailed information of the battle, a military intelligence specialist.

Or so he believed.

Moreover, the younger Graush always burned with ambition to reach any information first. Prior to the FOSB, prior to his cousin [member="Asharad Graush"], prior to anyone.

His mind wandered towards the Graush lineage heir. A storm of thoughts still trying to piece together a dedicated plan that could topple Asharad from the throne of House Graush. He didn't think of his cousin's welfare in this operation - Graush weren't made to think that way. On the contrary, he was certain of Asharad's not only survival but his success too. Occassionally, the thought of unity passed through his mind but yet did not seem to find roots in his head.

"Countdown till realspace has started. Be ready." Typically in his cold and collected voice he told his companion for this mission - a Ren. Varas Kyrel, he'd only skimmed her vague profile. An error due to his tunnel vision focus on the operation itself. As always, he had wanted to go solo but the titan grip of [member="Sieger Ren"] was everywhere.

When the time came, he'd find a way to deal with the Supreme Leader but before that there was Asharad.

All in due time.

All in due time.

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[Mazik Stazi]

Allies: Galactic Alliance, [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"] (Admiral Nai) | [member="Gir Quee"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Tristram Vos"] | [member="Aedan Miles"]​

Enemies: First Order, [member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Cyrus Tregessar"]​

Objective: Oversee Reconstruction Efforts​

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Command Deck // ANS Hereafter
High Orbit // Dagobah
Galactic Federation of Free Alliances

Mazik was in a bad mood.

Such was not an uncommon occurrence for the irascible duros officer, but given present circumstances his dour outlook was warranted. Having just recently been promoted to Commodore in light of the loss of several high profile Defense Fleet flag officers during their engagement within the Metharian Nebula, Stazi had been ordered to immediately report to his new command currently in the Dagobah system in light of the recent attack there.

Assuming command of the Hereafter was a daunting proposition, and as he stepped off the transport and onto the star carrier's flight deck for the first time as its commanding officer he felt the full weight of that moment. Not only would this be Mazik's largest command since his younger days as a Captain in the Republic, but he would be taking over the old command ship of a man who had once been his superior officer. He had learned much from Admiral Zark during his time serving as the human's executive, and although he would not show it news of his death had hit the old duros hard.

"Mister Bashir, I presume?" he offered more as a challenge than greeting to the one eyed polar Mon Calamari senior officer who was there to greet him with a smart salute.

"Yes, Commodore," the younger man nodded curtly, falling into step with Stazi's already brisk pace towards the turbolifts without being asked, "The command staff is fully briefed and preparing for your arrival. I assumed you would wish to notify the rest of the crew yourself."

"Never assume, Bashir," he shot his new first officer a narrow glance on the ride up to the bridge, "Don't think that just because we both served with the Admiral I'm going to give you special treatment. I am the new authority on this ship, and I expect you to earn your place on my bridge the same way you did with the Jedi."

"Understood, sir," Bashir replied without skipping a beat, and whooshing turbolift doors cut off any further scathing remarks on Mazik's end.

All eyes were upon them as they stepped out onto the Citadel's command deck, each bridge officer standing smartly at attention by their posts. Commodore Stazi waved them back to their posts with an irritable gesture, and after some shared glances toward their acting captain, each slowly resumed their duties at Bashir's nod in confirmation. When the two of them reached the command dais, Mazik turned imperiously towards his executive.

"By order of Alliance High Command, I hereby assume command of this vessel," he recited, "I relieve you."

"I am relieved," Bashir said, and from the look in his remaining good eye Mazik believed he meant it.

"Bring me up to speed."

The senior Alliance officer in system was Admiral Nai ([member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]), so while they were preparing to move out to nearby Vero, for as long as they were here it was the Commodore's duty along with Admiral [member="Cathul Thuku"] to execute Nai's will in her area of operation. At the present moment, that consisted for the most part of playing overwatch for incoming supplies and reinforcements from the north, as well as repair efforts currently underway to patch up the structural damage caused to the Alliance shipyards in orbit during the recent attack.

While normally Dagobah was considered a low priority for the Defense Force, in light of recent events several Doaba-class Defense Stations had been relocated and were currently in the process of being onlined in orbit. A larger Uldyr-class station was on its way, but was still several days out. In the meantime, there was also the matter of cleanup operations planetside. Shuttles were ferrying cargo and personnel between the Hereafter and Dagobah's surface more or less nonstop, and right now their most pressing concern was corralling enough fresh pilots to keep the flights running.

Their duties were mundane, and yet the atmosphere was charged as ships throughout the fleet remained ever vigilant for any signs of renewed aggression. The front was not far from here, and rumors of an impending First Order press on their counter blockade permeated ship's crews throughout the sector. If they lost Dagobah, there was a serious risk they could lose access to the entire south.

Alliance Patrol Group Light's Hammer

Spoiler

ANS Hereafter | Citadel-class Star Carrier
Shields: 100%
Hull: 100%
Actions: Orbiting Dagobah

ANS Defiant | Dreadnought-class Mk. III Escort Cruiser
Shields: 100%
Hull: 100%
Actions: Orbiting Dagobah

ANS Blood of Eriadu | Dreadnought-class Mk. III Escort Cruiser
Shields: 100%
Hull: 100%
Actions: Orbiting Dagobah

 

[Qymaen sil Jurai]

Location: En Route to Dagobah, hyperspace from Confederate space moments before real time
Mission: Pick up CIS troops who assisted in the defense against the Galactic Empire - Clean up hostiles from GA space
Allies: GA, GA allies and the CIS
Enemies: First Order and their allies
On board Subjugator II: 501 crew + protocol droids + 30,000 war prepped B1 mk. II battle droids / 10,000 B2 mk. II super battle droids
On board Lucrehulk II: 150 crew + protocol droids + 75,000 war prepped B1 mk. II battle droids / 25,000 B2 mk. II super battle droids
On board Providence II Assault Carrier: 200 crew + 15,000 war prepped B1 mk. II battle droids / 5,000 B2 mk. II super battle droids

Aboard the Subjugator II there was no silence as he stalked the bridge impatiently. Spine chilling clatters of clawed feet, silent rasping of haggard breathing and the sound of mechatronic fingers fidgeting filled the confines as the hulking figure paced.

"When will we arrive, captain?" Came the general's voice, the modulator creating a guttural scratch to it as he spoke, as he approached the nearest deck officer and peered out the viewport of the ships command bridge. While there was nothing but the streaks of blue that signified hyperspace, the general knew there was more to be known to their travel than simply the tell tale signs of hyperlane travel.

"We will be dropping out of hyperspace momentarily, General," The Rodian sputtered in his best basic as he cowered visibly away from the hulking mechanical being. "The Subjugator will be in position shortly after our Lucrehulk breaks light speed ahead of us."

"Prime the weapons, prepare the droids and ready the drop ships." He commanded as quickly as the other being had finished before beginning to make his way off the bridge an towards the closest communications chamber. "If we encounter any Imperial vessels... Crush them."

Turning back to the rest of the crew on the bridge, the rodian swallowed hard knowing full well this would be his greatest test.

Location: Dagobah space, just outside orbit - Real time
Mission: Unchanged

One by one the Confederate ships dropped from hyperspace. First was the Lucrehulk II-class Battleship, followed closely by a Providence II-class Assault Carrier and then by the Subjugator II-class Star Destroyer as it pulled up the rear of the makeshift Confederate fleet. While they were not there to take the fight to more than the remnants of the Imperial attack force, any scanners would have deduced they were prepped for a full scale assault on any non-Alliance or Confederate allied vessel.

The General had since made his way onto the bridge, poring over the space before them and the arriving ships in the distance. His posture was low, his breathing paced, but his yellow eyes were fixed on a group of arriving ships that appeared far too similar to Imperial vessels.

"Captain, it would seem the Empire invited friends," he breathed out as he stalked towards the front of the bridge, standing just at the edge of the viewing deck. Following suit were a pair of IG-100 Magnaguards with electrostalves powered down but read to be armed. Dismissing the sight before him the general turned around and eyed the Rodian once more. "Get me a full readon those ships, I want to know who they are and why they're here!"

"Understood, General, we will begin our scans immediately." The rodian quickly responded as the General passed him towards the elevators to the hangar corridors. He audibly gasped as the cloak of the hulking droid-like figure brushed him ushering a glance from the being as he passed but little more. Only as the General departed into the elevators did the rodian finally relax and turn back to his crew. "I want those scans NOW! Finish preparations of the landing craft and bring me all of the readings on our weapons. They need to be ready to fire! Our fighters are already initiating their defense patrol of our vessels, I want our droids on that same alert!"

As the crew busily went to work collecting the demanded actions, and far from their current location, the General stalked the corridors followed closely by his personal guard and closed quickly upon the hangars. With each step the general was met and followed by a number of war droids that collected en route to the landing craft in the hangars.

"OOM-17, we leave within the hour, prepare your battalions... I will meet you on the surface." The generals voice came much harsher as he addressed the command droid, it's robotic head tilting and adjusting to meet his own gaze. "I will be meeting with these Jedi and their command while you secure the location of all allied personnel. Do not let any stop you from completing your objective..."

His orders issued, the General boarded his stealth drop ship with a selection of B2's and his Magnaguards and began his launch sequence. All around his ship, on the other hand, the battle droids and minimal organic military personnel began their preparations for their landing on the surface of the planet.

Their status was high alert.

Personnel Recovery Operational Group

Spoiler

Subjugator II-class Star Destroyer
100/100 Shields
100/100 Hull
Action: Dropping from hyperspace, scanning present vessels, prepping drop ships and deploying fighters to vessel outer surface

Lucrehulk II-class Battleship
100/100 Shields
100/100 Redundant Shields
100/100 Hull
Action: Dropping from hyperspace, prepping drop ships and deploying fighters to vessel outer surface

Providence II-class Assault Carrier
100/100 Shields
100/100 Redundant Shielding
100/100 Hull
Action: Dropping from hyperspace, prepping drop ships and deploying fighters to vessel outer surface

Note: All weapons primed, except for the pulse cannons of the Subjugator II

[member="Robogeber"] | Note for any incoming ships.

 

[Rexus Wenck]

Allies: [member="FN-6767"] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance
Location: FIV Rage

​

Sergeant Rexus Wenck felt himself jolt awake at the dull sound of an alarm klaxon. The trooper felt his cigar fall from his mouth, as he listened to the long, mournful echoing within his helm. "Wenck!" Rexus' helmet system barked, "Hangar bay, now!" The helmet commanded, "I won't repeat this a second time!" The intercom repeated. Rexus snagged his helm, and stretched, looking around the little nest he'd created in the FIV Rage's cargo hold. He stowed his liquor, before he began to bust his hump through the vessel. Squads of stormtroopers poured from their various bunk rooms, mess halls, and places of recreation to the same place. Naval officers, and repair droids parted in preparation, as men and women in plastoid now sprinted to the hangar.

For Rexus Wenck, he was reminding himself each and everyday why he hated the stormtrooper corps. In some ways, he missed the mercenary life. There was a freedom to it. He didn't answer to anyone's rules but his employers. But now, ever since his reenlistment, he'd been regretting it. The yelling. Drills. Shouting. He did not miss that at all. As soon as he entered the hangar, Sergeant Wenck was met with a fleet of LAAT gunships being loaded with stormtroopers. Rexus sidled up to one of his compatriots, the mountain of a man, yet simultaneously intellectual dwarf, Dergan Twigg.

"Twigg, what's 'is about?" Wenck inquired, "We found their fleet or somefink?" He curiously continued, licking his dry lips. In the distance, quartermasters went to work barking names, and allotting troopers to various vehicles. Twigg grunted and turned to his superior, from the grunt, Rexus could tell he was unimpressed.

"We're headed to Dagobah." Twigg sourly replied, "Another bloody swamp." The behemoth glowered under his breath. Rexus clenched his jaw, and internalised the screams running through his head. So it was, another bloody swamp. His fists curled, and he closed his eyes. Trying to forget the sickening images which came to mind. Trying to forget the mud, which seemed to ooze, and seep everywhere. Trying to forget the smell, the muck. The gunk. He quivered.

"Carnage One!" A familiar voice snapped, Captain Dornan. Rexus stood forward, followed closely by Twigg and the remainder of Carnage One. Rexus stood to attention before the Captain who callously appraised the group. Dornan was shorter than Wenck, and he readjusted his footing to ensure he at least had the visage of being slightly taller. "Report to gunship twelve, briefing will be given when we get there." He commanded. As the squad moved forward Dornan slid his hand before Rexus, stopping him, "And Wenck, try not to kark this up."

"Yessir." Wenck glowered between two barred rows of crooked, yellowing teeth. That was another thing he hated. The reminders. The little jabs about Skor and his need to return to active duty. All of which constantly niggled at the trooper. Rexus followed his unit to the LAAT, and found himself at the rear of a quickly filling transport. The stormtroopers quickly found themselves sharing the transport with some Hard Shells. Specialised stormtroopers who drove vehicles, and earned the derisive moniker from the fact, at least by perception, they didn't earn their stripes the same as their comrades in arms. "What's with all these hardies?"

A cold voice corrected him, Dornan's deputy, Lieutenant Scarl, "They're assisting us, Sergeant." He bitterly began, he then glared at a female trooper smoking a cigar, "Lights out, trooper." He coolly commanded, "And helmets on, we'll be departing shortly." Scarl informed the assembled stormtroopers. The doors of the LAAT now closed, and sealed. Scarl pulled his helmet from his hip, and sealed it. Rexus, and the others did the same. "Now," Scarl began, "Our objective is forward reconnaissance of sector fifty six, C, on Dagobah." Scarl commanded, "The Galactic Empire, is confirmed to have attacked this system, and from the intelligence we have so far deciphered, this section of swamp was the source of transmissions from imperial forces."

"Our objective is to perform reconnaissance," Scarl commanded, "And if we find any imperial forces, assist, and extract them from the surface."

 

[Kier Grey]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cs4ctYw1lCc​

FN-6767 "Scars"
FIV Rage, Hanger, LAAT/i Gunship
Allies: [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Asharad Graush"]
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance

Spoiler: Equipment

• FO-02 Stormtrooper Armour (Tank Trooper Variant, one-color white passive camouflage)
• FastTurn-3 Hydrospanner
• Plasma Torch
• Stuncuffs
• T-8B Self-Loading Precision Carbine
• G-11F Blaster Rifle

Scars stands with a cigar between her pursed lips held carefully there between the gunmetal grey mechanical fingers of left hand its' servos making very faint whirring noises as it moves with the titular scarring over right-cheek and eye carefully concealed by a brunette bob-style haircut. Over shoulder is a T-8B Self-Loading Precision Carbine sheathed in a scabbard while right-thigh saw a G-11F Blaster Rifle holstered firmly. Helmet perched against hip with a breastplate covered in pouches filled with magazines for her Carbine thoughts lay deeply in the battle just passed and the narrow escape made from a Galactic Alliance battlecruiser; that was hairy even for one with a mechanical arm wearing armour scarred and marked with previous battles and conflicts, yet bearing ones from within the Excubitor's hanger. The Order to extinguish the Cigar comes from some obviously junior and bookish Officer who Scars doesn't even bother to acknowledge with a glance, lazily drawing the cigarette from mouth she drops it onto the floor before smothering it beneath boots yet marred with dried bloodstains. Sleep had yet to grace the Corporal soon-to-be Sergeant and its absence had been of keen concern struggling to keep eyelids parted at times she shivers somewhat before heaving helmet over head hermetic seal hisses shut around throat and nape. Scars reaches up and clasps the overhead handle filled rack beneath the cramped compartment's crimson light, questions about the presence of Tank Troopers were raised though Scars decided not to answer considering their questions beneath one trained from birth to serve the First Order, she was a better rifleman than any of them atleast that's what she tells herself while listening to the Lieutenant's Orders. "Lieutenant, what's the intelligence on opposition forces in the area of operations?" Scars speaks with a taciturn and cold tone, most of the Dropship's occupants are strangers to her including the one or two Tank Troopers and one Scout Trooper aboard; most from what she could tell were either transfers or adult volunteers who the brass had seen fit to dilute the Stormtrooper Corps with. Rumours abounded that the Galactic Empire used Imperial Stormtroopers and the young albeit experienced Tank Commander was interested to witness who fared better, their own adult volunteers or clones born and raised within the 'Galactic Empire'

 

[WelshPsych]

Yuroic was in charge of the Silvers on the surface of Dagobah. It was a big task on his shoulders, the first time that Yuroic was giving the chance to take charge of any group of people. His group was of reasonable size, with their forces spread out helping their many allies, he was surprised that he was able to receive as many people as he did. It seemed that the losses on Dagobah were far greater than he had first believed, it was a close fight, but a definite victory for the Alliance. Majority of Empire forces were gone, only those who could have been left behind were what worried Yuroic. He was curious in how the Alliance will deal with these prisoners, also, whether the Imperials would become prisoners or not.

For now, Yuroic was tending to some of the wounded, using the Force to heal the worst injuries and then his First Aid training to bandage the rest. It was tiring and draining for the man, he had planned to go out further, explore the world. Sadly, the Alliance was insistent that they remain close to the base. It was an argument that Yuroic couldn't be bothered in fighting. He rather just do as ordered, he was here to assist the Alliance in recovering from the attack, Yuroic was also here to help Dagobah recover from the attack. That was what annoyed him, he wanted to make sure the wildlife of the world was recovering and that the Alliance wasn't disturbing them. Deciding he needed a break, Yuroic brushed his brow, wiping away sweat. He stepped outside and looked around.

He sat against a tree and looked around the swamp, there was a quiet peace that could be heard. It was unsettling to Yuroic, he had read up on the world, it was as full of life as a planet of its size could be. Yet, there was little noise. Perhaps the animals knew something Yuroic did not, or it was to do with this cave that everyone was so concerned about. There was a Dark Side aura stemming from it, but nothing Yuroic couldn't handle. He had faced his demons, he had faced Sith Lords. He knew what the Dark Side had to offer, and more importantly what it didn't. But Yuroic felt no pull to explore the cave or to seek it out, he just didn't like others telling him where he couldn't and could go. He was stubborn like that, but then who does like being told what to do with their lives..?

Walking back in, Yuroic looked at the group of Silvers. "Right well, we are here to help Dagobah recover as much as the Alliance. How about we take a look around, ensure that the wildlife and plant life haven't suffered beyond recovery. Dagobah is a world teeming with life, be nice to see what else is here bar Alliance men and women, no offence to them. Everyone ready to go?" Yuroic spoke with a bit more authority than he did when they first arrived, being in charge was a learning curve. Yuroic was one to discuss things and not assume anyone as a leader, however, sometimes people needed a leader to take charge. Yuroic needed to be a leader if he was to ever become a Jedi Master.

[member="Asaraa Vaashe"] | [member="Marl"] | [member="Liuna Ondizi"] | [member="Tanaski Yumi"] | [member="Draven Dursden"]

 

[Ever Dawnracer]

Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Rekha Kaarde"], [member="Lyra Sunfell"], [member="Varex"], [member="Sol Stazi"], [member="Veino Garn"], [member="Mathieu Bahreiko"]
Enemies: First Order
Gear: Dawnracer's Gaiter, JSA-VAR, Ranger Armor, Ranger Blaster Stave, Ranger Scutum

Initially the goal had been a training exercise. A world like Dagobah didn't exist within Republic space so the higher ups had approached the Galactic Alliance for permission to do some training exercises on the world. A jungle planet was certainly somewhere worth training. The harsh terrain, even dangerous at times,would be good for them when they encountered it on other world's. The Republic Rangers were always looking to get better at their jobs, after all.

After they'd arrived, they heard from the local Alliance contingent that they should meet with Coren Starchaser out near the Force Nexus. Considering none of her unit besides her were Force Sensitive, and she was wearing something that cut her off from the Force, she had to ask for directions to where the Nexus was. Once she had it located on her map, the team took off through the jungle, treking over the soggy terrain. It wasn't that much fun, but walking alone wasn't that difficult as long as they watched their footing.

Eventually they arrived. When they did, she held up her hand to stop the column before they ran right into a trap she'd spotted in the undergrowth. Apparently the Nexus was one of the targets of a leftover group of Imperials that were hanging around. Starchaser must have been setting traps around the area. She pointed the trap out to her men and indicated, silently, that there might be more before she navigated around it and pressed closer to where she could see people working.

"Coren Starchaser?" she called as she neared, reaching up to Remove her helmet. "One of you him?"

She looked among them, shaking out her blond locks as she did so.

"Republic Rangers. We've been sent to help out."

 

[Luther Lewis]

​

Allies: [member="FN-6767"], [member="Rexus Wenck"].
Enemies: Galactic Alliance and Allies.
Location: FIV Rage, hangar.
Luther's Equipment:

Spoiler

• DE-39 "Deep Fryer" Model Maser Rifle.
• Medical Backpack.
• FO-02 Stormtrooper Armour. Tank-Trooper Variant embellished with medical symbol.

Vehicle Status:

Spoiler

Vehicle: LAVr FI-H8b 'Hussar' Command Speeder. Stripped sensor/targeting and command suites, retrofitting said areas for medical support.
Crew: 11th Armoured Division.
Action: In transport, enroute to surface.
Hull: 100%
Mobility: Stationary.
Crew Health: Healthy.

The a was strange sort of peace aboard the the FIV Rage (contrary to its name). Alarms blared, but in a paced, sure way. They seemed more of a reminder, rather than a warning. Troopers ran, but in a steady rhythm. The thud of boots on metal was fast but unhurried. Luther was surrounded by movement, yet he was perfectly still. In the eye of the storm. He longed for this pseudo-peace to stay. To give him some extra time before he had to wade through swamps and bogs. Before he was up to his elbows in another person's blood. Before...

- - - - -​

"Before an officer catches us lounging around!" exclaimed Skye, one of Luther's gunner. "Too late" muttered Tia, engineer and Skye's partner in crime. A lanky, pallid Lieutenant approached, a scowl on his face. "Brilliant, a bookie too..." Skye said unhappily. 'Bookie' was the crew's word for pen-pushers who forever stayed on the ship. They were liaisons between high command and the common soldiers, being responsible for handling special requisitions. They were insufferable, and universally hated by all.

"FN-4762, care to explain what is going on here?” The officer said, ignoring Luther’s languid salute. Luther drew in a deep breath, already anticipating the man’s questions. “11th Armoured Division, sir, under the command of myself. We are assigned to medical duties and will be responsible for extracting wounded on-planet. Our vehicle is a LAVr FI-H8b...” the acronym was labored on Luther’s tongue, but he persisted “...retrofitted for medical duties. We are currently awaiting transportation to the surface”.

The man gaped, clearly not expecting such a detailed answer from what looked like a rag-tag group. Skye and Tia grinned, which was a mistake; the insubordinate expression angered the bookie. “I…I…” he spluttered, his face bright red. He opened his mouth wide, preparing to shout, but was interrupted by a meaty hand on his shoulder. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant.” Luther’s captain commanded. Luther snapped into a smart salute while the bookie gave the man a hostile glare and stalked off.

“We’re about to leave Ando, get your crew into the transport.” Luther commanded Skye and Tia to enter the vehicle and started to walk towards it himself. He was stopped by the same meaty hand. “You’re not going with them, you’re going in that LAAT”. He said pointing to the dropship. “Communication is bad on the surface, we need you to tag a suitable landing spot for your transport.” He handed Luther a pack of flares and abruptly walked away.

Luther updated his crew on the situation and made his was way to the LAAT. He moved past [member="Rexus Wenck"] and settled next to [member="FN-6767"]. He placed on his helmet, feeling the rush of air as it pressurised. He breathed deep. He tried to remain passive, apathetic, but his mind was a turmoil of emotions. 'One last moment of peace...' he thought. 'before the mud and the blood...'

 

[Samka Derith]

Location: FIV Concordia - Medbay​

Allies: [member="Ara Zambrano"], [member="Elensa Jari"] - The First Order​

Enemies: The Galactic Alliance​

​

Samka hadn't seen direct combat as such during the blockade but she had received injuries. The Sith Sphere she'd resided within to bolster her Battle Meditation had struggled to accept the Master of Ren for being the wrong kind of Dark Side cult. Eventually the two clashed, she had used the Force to crush it while the machine electrocuted her. She had won the battle of wills, making the ancient AI obey her command but the physical toll had been worse than she'd originally known. Once the Alliance retreated and the battle had past, her injuries made themselves felt. Deep electrical scars covered her body with black marks, a particularly nasty looking one tarnishing her face. The innocent little face she relied upon so often to bend others to her whims. An ugly scar could ruin her entire persona, how unfortunate. Thankfully for her there were treatments.

She'd limped to the medical bay, snarling and cursing the Sith Sphere with every step. If the machine wasn't so useful, she'd have it reduced to scrap for this insult. There would have to be other ways to make it suffer.

The medical droids buzzed around her, speaking in binary codes with one another, jabbing their syringes where they did not belong. Perhaps she was in a bad mood or carried lingering resentment towards droids given the machine she'd just interacted with but either way, it took a remarkable amount of self restraint to sit there as the droids did their work. To their credit they did sooth the pain and with their help, the scar tissue would clear in a matter of days. Medical science had come so far.

The Ren spared a glance opposite her, to the Acolyte [member="Elensa Jari"], being treated for blaster wounds. Despite her internal feelings, Samka offered the woman a reassuring smile should they meet eyes, one which hopefully wouldn't be too off-set by the scar travelling down the left side of her face. It was better the woman felt safe with them, it was better that she felt a bond within their group, that there was something worth fighting for because their mission was not complete yet.

It called to her, even back before they left the First Order's borders. Now it called ever louder.

The Dark Side.

It was summoning them further into the Galactic Alliance's space.

The military brass of admirals and generals could talk of practical strategy however they liked but Samka Derith knew just as [member="Sieger Ren"] did the true nature of this secondary assault was because the Dark Side called to them all.

It sang ever louder, growing bolder as it feasted on death and war. There had been a battle in a swamp, the uniforms of both Alliance and Galactic Empire burned. Perhaps the Empire, too, had heard the call of the Dark but it was increasingly clear that they had not seized it. Now it would be their turn.

A subtle shake signalled that the Concordia had arrived above the swamp planet of Dagobah and with that Samka rose to her feet, gesturing the droids away with a wave of her hand.

There was another with them, Samka approached the bacta tank holding [member="Ara Zambrano"], the woman who had been vented into space and only saved with her swift intervention. Whether she was awake, Samka wasn't sure, she certainly wouldn't be fully recovered by now but with her abilities, an injured Ara was better odds than no Ara.

The young girl traced her fingers on the tank, "I hate to wake you," and through them sent a burst of revitalising Dark energy to bring the elder woman around. "But we're not quite done yet."

 

[The Major]

Hex M, 50 GSM \\ Dagobah
En Route to Dagobah System | Present Time | Hyperspace
FIPV-9 System Patrol Vessel: Blackhole 3-2 (Repurposed Security Bureau Craft)
Music Plays on the Comm between alerts: Slavonic March

“No. This designation is no longer sufficient. It’s boring. Typical. Expected. We come here by the grace of victory. Change the name. How about. . . The Beat Siren.” Briefly, this survivor peered past the junior officer and adopted a contemplative stare, grasping lightly upon destiny.

“But, we can’t simply change the codes, there are protocols in pla---” He was hushed, snapped to attention by the sudden flash of blue where eyes should be. A leather glove thumbed a few buttons on a holopad.

“Check the signal. It’s already done.” And while the officer interrupted tried to control his face from displaying a flabbergasted gape, a number of the other personnel in earshot of the exchange smirked or exchanged furtive, knowing glances. Every organization had its oddballs. In the First Order, however, most of the freaks tended to find themselves pushed towards a career in the Security Bureau where asymmetry was their speciality. If you spent enough time with these outliers, you might be quick to classify them as damaged. In reality, some of the most chipped knives also happened to be the most damaging. And hey, at least the job wasn’t prone to boredom. . . The nearby agents watched their chrome plated leader march off, pondering what a strange galaxy it truly was.

​

Overtime was in effect. After some measure of sleep and recovery the Major afforded herself the luxury of examining the events aboard the Red Veil. At first it was suffice to study the recording as she was shot. The initial thrust into the hanger proved to be a harrowing contention. Rushing forward recklessly she was rewarded in turn for her apparent lack of anticipation. Bravado could only shield one from rampant idiocy for so long, and luckily for her the infiltration armor was sufficient in protecting her chest from becoming little more than neatly seared meat. It wasn't a mistake she intended to make twice. To circumvent that fate, a new suit of freshly designed armor had arrived post debrief thanks to some stellar folks embedded within the sixth fleet. Running non essential shipments during a blockade and forging logs or otherwise circumventing priority supplies might be considered a punishable offense in the eyes of the organization. It mattered little when she was the one assigned to monitor logistics in the sector for the Bureau. Besides, from the shimmering reflection she issued as she passed glass or polished deck —it was clearly worth a risk.

The assembly area aboard the now christened Beat Siren was the largest room the vessel could accomodate, since any traditional hanger was not present due to its size constraints. Instead, those piling out to either had to venture out unto the deck in sealed suits and mount up in their selected TIEs or gunships, or wait until the patrol vessel broke atmosphere for a much more exciting excursion with gravity in play. Most stationed upon these hallowed decks would most likely have the necessary apparatus to facilitate survival in vacuum anyway. If they didn’t, then one could only hope they rest peacefully in the Nether.

“Ma’a-- ah! Major! Orders from Fleet Admiral Rausgeber.” This ensign nervously handed a small holoprojector over to the apparent executive officer. Included were highly classified details regarding deployments upon Dagobah and who was slated to arrive when. Sardonically, the report was regarded as tentative. She knew that once they reached their start point over Dagobah sensors and scanners would be jammed up thanks to the naturally occuring interference from that now infamous backwater. It made operations in the sector especially treacherous, with ships stumbling into sudden “shotgun” ranges where turbolaser blasts were especially damaging. Communications would be strained and limited. However with that cloak came a distinct advantage when facing off against large fleet formations using traditional methods of target acquisition. This is exactly why the Major’s FOSB detachment would rectify the issue with a more nuanced approach. The chrome plated officer, hulking and imposing in the modified stormtrooper garb, smiled at their luck and commanded a subordinate with a side glance -unintentionally showing the profile of her face in mistaken arrogance.

“Prepare my task force for a briefing -immediately.” Cooed the smirking Station Chief. Helmet tucked under her right arm, she set the holoprojector upon a table so that its displayed contents could float against the bulkhead -hopefully enabling the coming operators to see the plan clearly. A klaxon aboard the Beat Siren blared and the announcement to assemble for mission details warbled across the intercom. Patiently, the Major awaited for all to gather before they all dived into the coming storm.

[member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Luther Ando"][member="FN-6767"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Therran Graush"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Sieger Ren"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Emilia Ravel"] | [member="Varas Kyrel"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"]​

​

Spoiler: OOC Notes:

Gear: to be declared upon entry into AO
Fleet: to be declared upon exit of hyperspace

 

[Madelyn Lowe]

​

​

Location: LAAT/I GUNSHIP, Landing Zone Alpha.
Allies: First Order.
Enemies: Galactic Alliance.
Objective: Search and Rescue.

​

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The hours after the initial defeat of the Galactic Alliance at the Hydian Way had marched by slowly and sleeplessly. After the battle, Emilia had rendezvoused with FOSB personnel aboard the crippled Executioner, taking just enough time to debrief and catch their breath before they were once again scattered back among the Naval forces reorganising themselves within the sector. In a matter of hours, they were on the move again, and Emilia was transferred to the FIV Ziggurat, en route to the isolated Dagobah system, from which scattered reports brought news of a mounting conflict between the Galactic Alliance and Tanomas Graf's Galactic Empire. With their forces still reeling from the Battle of the Hydian Way, the First Order hurtled into the unknown, towards the lonely system.

Now, she leaned against the back wall of an LAAT/i Gunship, sharing the space with 25 other soldiers, each wearing a red armband to distinguish them from the Galactic Empire’s troops. They were a mixture of fighters from the Security Bureau, Army, and Stormtrooper Corps that had been corralled and herded into the gunships nesting in the belly of the Ziggurat just as Emilia herself had been. Enough time had passed that her hands had stopped trembling, the trauma of a slew of near-death experiences in the last 24 hours fading away in place of a numbing exhaustion. Across from her, a Stormtrooper private slid to the floor, leaning against the sliding door of the gunship. He was allowed to sit for a moment, before the pair of soldiers next to him helped him to his feet. Emilia didn't reprimand the trooper, nor did his Sergeant. They understood all his situation too well.

Mere moments later, the sound of engines spinning up began to fill the space of the hangar, their own repulsors joining the cacophony as the gunships rose in tandem, the spacecraft zooming out of the hangar and into the space above Dagobah. They dove quickly, their rapid descent impossible to see for the occupants, for the massive doors blocked their view. Within minutes, the Stormtrooper Sergeant spoke, his voice breaking, clearly worn from a day of shouting orders. "We're at altitude, open the doors."

The troopers on both sides nodded in compliance, and the doors slid open, each of the troopers shifting slightly at the sudden rush of air that buffeted them, now exposed on two sides to the elements. The passengers eagerly looked out, trying to catch a glimpse of the fighting not far below. What they saw was utter destruction. Thick smoke filled the air, rising from numerous fires and burning wrecks that littered the dark landscape. Occasionally, a bolt of plasma would hurtle out of the thick canopy, or an explosion would tear apart a section of the marshes, leaving a smouldering clearly. For the most part though, the land was quiet. Yes, there were occasional bursts of violence, but it was clear that here the battle was already over.

Her suspicions were confirmed when their LAAT approached the first of several landing sites, landing alongside 5 other craft and dropping off 15 of their 25 troops. Radio calls began trickle in, though it was difficult to track their precise location due to some sort of malfunction with their sensors. They were garbled and often incomprehensible, but those that could be understood told of small pockets of Galactic Empire soldiers, left surrounded after the Empire’s fleet was routed. It was troubling news. Without the support of the Galactic Empire’s fleet, Emilia was unsure if their vanguard force could hold out long enough for the First Order Navy to reinforce them. With a resigned sigh, Emilia pushed the transmit button on the side of her helmet.

:: “Bureau Chief Emilia Ravel to Command, we’ve received distress calls from stranded Galactic Empire soldiers. It appears most of their fleet has withdrawn. Requesting permission to send out four LAAT gunships and two Atmospheric Assault Landers to assist in Search and Rescue operations.” ::

While she waited for a response, Emilia looked around the landing zone. It was a wide clearing, pockmarked in places by blaster fire and detonations. On the edges of the clearing, the ground became steadily boggier, until it eventually lead into shallow marshes, where thick trees with tangled roots hid the rest of the area from view. She reckoned there was a mere 10m of visibility into the thick marshland before the foliage became too thick to see through. From the depths, the strangled cry of the native wildlife sent shivers down her spine. It was a hostile and alien environment, and Emilia could see it was putting the troops on edge. With luck, they’d be back in the air before long, tracking down and rescuing the stranded, pinned down troops of the Galactic Empire.

 

[Atsushi Ono]

Allies: Galactic Alliance - Contracted; Shriek-Hawk Mercenaries
Enemies: The First Order
Location: Swamp

Whoever it was that thought bringing a Kay'calyr into the swamp was probably laughing right now as twelve Mandalorians struggled to push the massive metal beast out of the swamp. Its repulsors made it a little easier, but thousands of pounds of turadium was still thousands of pounds. Behind his T-shaped visor he gritted his teeth and strained against the metal behemoth. It groaned in protest as the massive droid struggled to pull itself out of the muck.

Few volunteered to come to the GA's aid. Most had gotten the call to Utapau and had left their posts, but enough of Mel's forces had stayed behind in GA space to at least help in the clean up of Dagobah.

And so he was here. Covered in mud.

 

[Katrine Van-Derveld]

Spoiler

Side: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: First Order
Objective: Meet up with the team, Forward Operating Base Defence (Grounders)
Location: At the Darkside Cave
Team: Rapax (We'll meet up with FOB in our next posts!)

Spoiler

Armor:

• Outfit (Not actual armor, just clothes)
• Coat
• Taak'tabi (Bone Marchers)
• Light-Shield Bracelet

Weapons:

• HV-55A: "Allfate" Disruptor Rifle
• Rudimentary lightsaber, blue color
• Czerka Fighting Knife

The games were over though they hadn't properly been had. Instead of the games, there had been a war instead. She and her not quite Wolf but still sorta like it companion had instead been stuck in the Cave where they each had their own demons to fight. Seated on a rock, her left hand spinning flag and her right hand feeling the blue fabric run through her fingers. First, it was herself in what her head had imagined herself looking when what she had seen for her eyes felt deceitful. It hadn't been all she had seen though. It was not even an entire day later, her leather coat required cleaning, she'd run through more than half of her food packets and was itching for a good hunt.

"Should probably get out of here, she told [member="Rapax"] after a moment, standing. "This thing has messed with my head plenty." It wasn't super scary now as it had been when the operation had appeared first but it left a nasty taste in her mouth thinking about it. Katrine had been convinced she feared nothing more than she feared Avarisa and yet, she'd been faced with a vision of herself decades older than she had been, still corrupted and unforgiven. Turned out, there was something scarier than her ancestor's spirit after all.

Picking her rifle, she put it over her shoulder again before she looked towards the entrance before glancing back to the Shaman. "We should go meet up with the remaining folks. Our ride should be arriving soon enough." She pointed out before heading towards the entrance.

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

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“It’s gone.” Even over the explosions that were ripping through the station hearing those words made a shiver of fear run down Kayrce’s spine. Rhun had gone forward towards where the monitors had indicated the shuttle would be, he however had returned quickly with the news. “There’s a couple of old wrecks, nothing flyable.”
“Ma’am?” Beric’s tone was worried, questioning of the entire situation. “Kayrce?!” Clearly he had not got an answer fast enough.
She gave him a solid look, the grip on her blaster tighter then was comfortable. “We do this the old fashioned way. Find anything that will protect you, anything! We regroup on the planet.” It was an order of desperation, one that made her want to assure that her entire team was safe before her. “Move.”
“With all due respect Ma’am.” Rhun had started again, “We’re not going anywhere unless it is together.”
Frakk.
“Fine. Fan out. Look for anything that will hold us.”
Time was running out fast.

N O W

The scene was catastrophic. Huge building sized chunks of the shipyard had failed to burn up through the atmosphere of the planet carving a wanton path of destruction and desolation through the swampy jungle where they had landed. What hadn’t been destroyed was aflame and the mists that had moved in only added to the surreal landscape of beaten, twisted metal and organic flora that was scattered within it.

However it was not to this scene that Kayrce would awake to, her first realisation of consciousness was a deep breath of sludge water that her head had slipped down into. The mix of dirt, water and the acidic tinge of oil staining filling her nose and airways creating a sudden instinct to move and survive. With any strength she could muster the Imperial Operative rolled onto her back, the pain of a thousand muscles catching up with her before her sight did. She had to breath in deep laboured breaths, a strikingly fast pain matching each indicating a potential issue.
Shaking hands, a quick indicator of the shock her body was experiencing ran across her flightsuit, feeling the unusual texture of a rip near her abdomen, as she rose her fingers to her still blackened eyes a fuzzy image of bloodstained gloves met her brain and the pain only increased, enough for her to let it out with an audible cry.
She tried to remember what had happened, why she was here but could think of nothing but the blank face of a TIE-Pilots helmet, and fire, lots of fire. It was so hot, burningly so that even her specially designed uniform could not keep her atmospherically secure.
She could feel her eyes roll and then darkness came again.

The next time her eyes would open her vision would have returned, it still maintained a darkening surround and a slight unsteadiness but it was capable of Inferno One to get a grasp of her environment. She was underneath a great cluster of metal beams that had at some point seemingly fallen over her like a cage, beneath her a grate that had implanted itself into wet soil creating the water flow that had woken her up before. The only source of light was coming from a green light flashing to her left, which when looked at was her own helmet, one visor smashed and several areas of the black ablative covering burnt away. She stretched out an arm, again feeling that painful rush through her stomach and chest, yet even with every finger outreached she could not get a hold on the helm.

“Are you an Imperial or not.” She told herself as she crumpled back to her position on her back. “Just get up.” She stared at the beams above her, if she could get to knees she would be able to crawl she guessed. “Get up.” Again she stared, but this time the sound of metal creaking met it. “GET UP!” Her flurry of motion was met with a beam falling exactly where she was led, however she had rolled, grabbed the helmet and managed to squeeze through a small gap into the hellish scene that was the impact site.
Immediately she was back on her knees, a crippling agony taking hold of her as she, fingers shaking still tried to find the belt pouch that held a small tube. A quick release of spray and an expandable foam that followed was placed over the hole on her suit, quickly working medical assistance and sealing the wound beneath. It would still need medical attention, but at least she could carry on her way for now in less of a painful manner. She darted her eyes around, it was dark, too dark for her eyes. So the helmet was lowered onto her head and the systems made a noise louder then they ever should have, the single optical flew to life and lit the scene up with it’s inbuilt night vision showing wanton destruction of all around her.
“Inferno One to Inferno Team do you copy.” She said into the communicator on the helmet, its system encrypting the message and the waves it was sent on to make it undetectable by anything other then another Inferno Helmet. All she received in response was static, clear and uninterrupted static. “Great.”

She was left with no choice, weaponless and wounded. She had to find her team.