You'll Sleep When I Say So [First Order Invasion of Outer Rim Coalition [Hex K-53] Skor II]

Keyan Mastigar · Aug 8, 2018

Admiral Gromm Cardan

Equipment: Blaster Pistol - Flag Officer Uniform

Location: Skor II - FIV Invictus - Bridge

Status: Saving [member="Kou'ha Escala"] and [member="Robogeber"]

Theme: Metal Frenzy | Battlefield 1

Chaos was everywhere.

Ships destroyed in massive infernos, leaving clouds of debris where they once stood. The Outer Rim Coalition had surprised the First Imperial Navy with their armada, but they could only hold the upper hand for so long. Focus had apparently be diverted to destroying both the massive dreadnought that was the Pellaeon and the equally formidable Concordia. Unbeknownst to most, if not all, of the parties present at the bloody battle in orbit of Skor II, another dreadnought had secretly entered the battle far earlier than one could expect. Admiral Cardan had been observing both his allies and adversaries alike for quite some time, waiting for confirmation from Central Command that the reinforcements he requested were en route to the now-scarred planet.

He knew full well that, even while distracted by the heat of the battle, it was only a matter of time until the cloaked dreadnought was discovered, he planned on it even, taking into account the shock factor that would occur when the colossal warship revealed itself to a force that, until then, had out-numbered the First Imperial forces present. One of the communications officers called from his station, "Admiral, encrypted transmission from the Commissar. Reinforcements incoming." She said, moving her headset from her ear for the moment. This prompted Cardan to turn, a small smirk creeping over his features as he thought this over.

He raised a hand to one of the command consoles on the bridge, pressing down on the switch that controlled the ship's intercom. "All commands! Prepare for decloaking!" He ordered, lifting his finger from the switch while he affixed his gaze to outside the bridge viewports. Just out of the corner of his eyes he noticed the Concordia blinking its lights in some sort of signal he didn't understand, he ignored it for the time being as he looked at Commander Praxon for a split second, giving a nod for the ship to finally take part in the battle. Blue megamaser bolts began to appear en masse from near the middle of the battle, coming from a seemingly empty patch of space and targeting the swarm of fighters and starships attempting to fight the mighty First Imperial Navy. Whether ships were hit or not, the Epicanthix admiral did not care, for he watched with contained glee as sections of the ship started to show up until one of the mighty flagships of the First Order revealed itself.

People wouldn't even get to appreciate the beauty of such a thing, as even as the dreadnought was decloaking, ships began to revert out of hyperspace around it. Cruisers, star destroyers, and battlecruisers all arrived in a conical shape around Cardan's command ship, starting to fire on the naval forces of the Coalition without any hesitation. In the center of this swarm of ships, a Mandator battlecruiser activated its dreaded siege configuration, sections of its armour sliding away to reveal shielded drop pod bays and advanced weapons of mass destruction. He had ordered that the ships in his fleet were fit with special HIMS systems, which allowed them to pierce through the massive interdiction field and straight to the admiral.

The Order had revealed one of the cards up its sleeve.

Skor would be theirs.

6th Fleet Reinforcements - Handy Formation Map and equally helpful key.

FIV Invictus
x1 Mandator V-class Siege Battlecruiser - Colossus
x3 Resurgent III-class Star Destroyers - Intrepid, Commissar, Unrivalled
x6 Imperial V-class Star Destroyers - Dragoon, Hussar, Fusilier, Grenadier, Lancer, Skirmisher
x6 Vindicator IV-class Escort Cruisers
x6 Velox-class Corvette Gunships

Karl Von Strauss · Aug 8, 2018

Location: FIV Anastasia, Local Space
Objective:
Allies: First Order | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Kou'ha Escala"] | [member="Morro"] |
Enemies: ORC
Engaging: [member="Jorus Merrill"]

On the FIV White
"Sir, shrapnel incoming, very fast!" One of the sensor officers tried to yell fast enough to his commanding officer, but it was too little, too late. The FIV White took a face full shrapnel from the Jacquelle. It ripped up most of the forward guns and did substantial damage to the quadanium steel and durasteel hull to the fore. The Commanding officer was thrown backward, when he got up he looked through the glassteel viewport, hundreds of bodies could be seen floating through space now. It was a disgusting view and made one of the soldiers on the bride throw up. This didn't mean the White was out of the fight yet, it only lost most of the forward guns and some mid turbolasers. The two Mega-classes were still operational, but their turning now worsened by the impact. "What are you all waiting for! Keep shooting at them!" the Captain of the FIV White yelled.

On the FIV Anastasia
The enemy fleet, named "Howlrunner," was now upon Battlegroup Vornskr. It was now a full-on slug-fest their fleet was hurt, but it was still a formidable foe. Captain Von Strauss looked out of his viewport, he looked to the FIV White he saw the bodies but, he didn't want to taste his red wine a second time, so even though he felt sorry for those men and women he didn't keep watching. The lead ship of the enemy fleet was last seen going to the aft of the White. "Send a full-strength message to the White. Have your mega-class turbolasers turned to the aft and up. Turn around half of your remaining firepower as well, that lead ship is a problem and must be dealt with, you'll know what to do when the time comes. End Transmission." The entire signal crew looked at the Captain weird for a moment but, still sent the message. The XO said what everyone, was thinking, "Sir, why should he face his cannons to the aft, his enemies are in front and below him?" The captain looked at his XO for a moment, then cracked a smile. "Signal officer, send a transmission to the Kiffex's Pride, it is to crash into the bottom of the White. Near the tip, sublight thrusters half speed, until it is about ninety degrees from its original position. In basic, you are to flip the White." The XO's hand was at his chin, he was piecing the plan together now, it was definitely different and crazy but, it could work.

From the outside of the battle, it would look as if chaos ensued but from the brides of the First Order's ships, it was still a tactical battle. The FIV Belle was engaging the Termagant, the FIV Anastasia was engaging the Volte with its long-range weapons. While its short-range weapons were also, engaging the Termagant. The Chasseurs and Boneshatters switched targets after disabling the Volte's engines. The Blitz's still protecting the Chasseurs from starfighters. The Uhlans continued to the next target of their swarm, the Ravenous. The vanguard's released their remaining complement into another swarm of fighter, interceptors, and bombers that went directly after the S.S. Gaussamer since it was the closest enemy ship. The Sabres began launching their HARM missiles at the enemy corvettes around them. and the forward most Sabres decided to protect the wounded FIV White.

Karl saw the blue megamaser fire coming from nowhere, he smiled as he knew what was coming with it.

Battlegroup Vornskr

“Pack” Prince

>3 Imperial-X II SD (1604x2=3208) (X)

(FS) FIV Anastasia
|Shields/Hull: 92%/100%
Hangar(Squadrons): 1 TIE/IN (X) | 0 TIE/FO-SK (X)
Engaging: Long-range: Volte, Short-Range: Termagant

FIV Belle
|Shields/Hull: 85%/100%
Hangar: 1 TIE/FO MkIII (X) |
Engaging: Termagant

FIV White
|Shields/Hull: 63%/81%
Hangar: 1 TIE/FO MkIII |
Engaging: Termagant, soon the S.S. Gaussamer

>3 Vanguard Carriers (1000x2=2000) (X)

FIV Zahn
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Hangar:1 FO TIE/IN | 2 TIE/FO Mk III | 2 TIE/FO-SK
Engaging: S.S. Gaussamer

FIV Reydel
|Shields/Hull:100%/100%
Hangar:1 FO TIE/IN | 2 TIE/FO Mk III | 2 TIE/FO-SK
Engaging: S.S. Gaussamer

FIV [SIZE=11pt]TiM[/SIZE]
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Hangar:1 FO TIE/IN | 2 TIE/FO Mk III | 2 TIE/FO-SK
Engaging: S.S. Gaussamer

>6 Sabre Frigates (270x6=1620) (X)

FIV Haven
|Shields/Hull: 74%/87%
Engaging: Mortain

FIV Aspiration
|Shields/Hull: 89%/100%
Engaging: Mortain

FIV Thunder Wasp II
|Shields/Hull: 97%/100%
Engaging: Vnukk

FIV Jupiter
|Shields/Hull: 96%/100%
Engaging: Bluett

FIV Neptune
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Vnukk

FIV Bismarck
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Bluett

Fighter Escort (Squadrons): 2 FO TIE/IN, 7 TIE/FO MkIII, 3 TIE/FO-SK
Engaging: Enemy Complement

Bomber/Fighter/Interceptor Attack Force: 6 TIE/FO-SK | 4 FO TIE/IN | 3 TIE/FO MkIII
Engaging: S.S. Gossamer

TIE Attack Force 2: 3 FO TIE/IN, 6 TIE/FO MkIII, 6 TIE/FO-SK
Engaging: S.S. Gaussamer

Pack Alph

>4 Chasseur Corvettes (126x5=630) (X)

FIV Kiffex’s Pride
|Shields/Hull: 82%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Kiffu’s Pride
|Shields/Hull: 76%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Pantora
|Shields/Hull: 90%/100%
Engaging: Montes

~~FIV Maiden~~
|~~Shields/Hull: 0%/0%~~
~~Engaging: Diderre~~

FIV Warlock
|Shields/Hull: 92%/100%
Engaging: Montes

>3 Blitz Corvettes (90x3=270) (X)

FIV Wildland
|Shields/Hull: 96%/100%
Engaging: Fighter Complement

FIV Werebear
|Shields/Hull: %/100%
Engaging: Interceptor Complement

FIV Tobui
|Shields/Hull: 89%/100%
Engaging: Bomber Complement

>3 Uhlan Corvettes (80x3=240) (X)

FIV Sorcerer
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Paladin
|Shields/Hull: 98%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Flash
|Shields/Hull: 83%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

>2 Boneshatter Frigates (380x2=760) (X)

FIV Muerte
|Shields/Hull: 71%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Legate
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging: Mortain

Fighter Escort: 3 TIE/FO MkIII, 1 FO TIE/IN
Engaging: Enemy Complement

Pack Duff

>3 Chasseur Corvettes (126x5=630)

~~FIV End of Nights~~
~~|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%~~
~~Engaging:~~

~~FIV End of Days~~
~~|Shields/Hull:100%/100%~~
~~Engaging:~~

FIV Totenkopf
|Shields/Hull: 80%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Witch
|Shields/Hull: 92%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Dragon
|Shields/Hull: 87%/100%
Engaging: Montes

>3 Blitz Corvettes (90x3=270)

FIV Yamamoto
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Fighter Complement

FIV Yamato
|Shields/Hull: 67%/100%
Engaging: Interceptor Complement

FIV Kidd
|Shields/Hull: 88%/100%
Engaging: Bomber Complement

>3 Uhlan Corvettes (80x3=240)

FIV Rouge
|Shields/Hull: 93%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Bard
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Raptor
|Shields/Hull: 90%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

>2 Boneshatter Frigates (380x2=760)

FIV Godly
|Shields/Hull: 90%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging: Vnukk

FIV Smackers
|Shields/Hull: 96%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging:Bluett

Fighter Escort: 3 TIE/FO MkIII
Engaging: Protecting the Pack

Pack Forma

>4 Chasseur Corvettes (126x5=630)

FIV Kobold
|Shields/Hull: 83%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Golden
|Shields/Hull: 93%/100%
Engaging: Montes

FIV Turtle
|Shields/Hull: 67%/100%
Engaging: Montes

~~FIV Nabassu~~
|~~Shields/Hull: 0%/0%~~
~~Engaging: Rousse~~

FIV Excalibur
|Shields/Hull: 99%/100%
Engaging: Montes

>3 Blitz Corvettes (90x3=270)

FIV Shield
|Shields/Hull: 70%/100%
Engaging: Interceptors

FIV Allip
|Shields/Hull: 83%/100%
Engaging: Fighters

FIV Drow
|Shields/Hull: 100%/100%
Engaging: Bombers

>3 Uhlan Corvettes (80x3=240)

FIV Warlord
|Shields/Hull: 91%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Warden
|Shields/Hull: 53%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

FIV Howler
|Shields/Hull: 72%/100%
Engaging: Ravenous

>2 Boneshatter Frigates (380x2=760)

FIV Demogorgon
|Shields/Hull: 98%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging: Bluett

FIV DeVinci
|Shields/Hull: 77%/100%
Hangar: Empty
Engaging: Ravenous

Fighter Escort: 3 TIE/FO MkIII, 1 FO TIE/IN
Engaging: Complement

Total Meterage: 13,528 Meters, before casualties

Romi Jade · Aug 8, 2018

SKORR II

The Palace

WITH: [member="Mishel Noren"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Shia Kryze"] [member="Srina Talon"] [member=Darth Metus"]

ALLIES: [member="Dax Fyre"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Vaudin Miir"]

ENEMIES: [member="Omari Vyken"] [member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Keira Verd"]

[youtube]https://youtu.be/ZCk4RiKH9H0[/youtube]

Coren Starchaser said:
“Be ready.”

"Right. Go for it Mish." She motioned with her head, swinging her body out so she could fall in line after the Padawan had made her way towards the front. She leaned into her stride, swaying more towards her right and matching pace. Hearing the subtle sizzle of wayward bolts off in the distance, she was keen on reaching their destination. Raising her chest-high, she completely melded into charge through the air with the others. She'd raise her lightsaber while yielding control to Mishel, who she trusted to lead them through it all.

For the opposition that was left behind sporadically, it only took her springing into action before her ignited lightsaber carved a path for her. Racing past their guards, she worked her side of the field without stopping. The humming blur of scarlet streaks alarmed those she'd yet to connect with; She'd be on them before they'd know it. It was over.

Mishel Noren said:
"This way!"

She followed through with a spin, coming out with enough balance that she would be able to easily change trajectory. Her head whipped up, and she pushed through.

She rounded a pillar, cutting through the shadows that curved until it dispersed in the light again. "Found him huh?" Slowly, she slowed her pace.

The definition in her jaws became that much more defined now that things were getting back on track. She dug two fingers into her temple, nailing herself in the head as she forced the focus this time. It'd only take her a few minutes...though this time around the stakes for doing could be that much higher.

Her thoughts became her own, retreating further into the spaces of her head as she sought to increase her reach. Some connections would be easier to realize than others...she'd start there. Coren...Mishel...Julius; she knew them well. The further she dug into the empyrean, it's manifestation would consist of invisible tendrils protruding from her own connection as she sought to match with the others.

A Force Meld

Risky given the current state of her health, she passed out once from over exertion. The others within proximity to her would feel her presence reaching out but whether they chose to accept would be up to them.

Natasi Fortan · Aug 9, 2018

https://youtu.be/2-d04jV4SSM

It's not working.

I can't believe it's not working.

The manic look in the Grand Moff's eyes darkened, giving way to the dark realization that it seemed, at least, that the Cosmic Balance was turning its back on Natasi Fortan once again. She was used to personal tragedies, but this time, the First Order was on the block as well. Her fingers continued to pulse out the signal as if she was a machine, but her eyes were lidding heavily. She half-turned towards [member="Kou'ha Escala"], considering giving the order to pull their forces back when she saw something out the main viewport that gave her pause.

She let the control button go and moved closer to the viewport. The Pellaeon, in the midst of battle, was pulsing its lights.

And not just the Pellaeon; Natasi's eyes drank in the scene -- beautiful and terrible as any space battle -- and she discerned that other ships were blinking their lights in sequence too. They were repeating her code! "It's working!" Natasi cried; in her relief, she had quite forgotten bridge decorum and the gravitas that came with being mother of the nation. She went back to the control panel and began coding out a message. She craned her neck towards the window, where she saw the message being taken up. A string lights took up the message, pulsing it across the battlefield, bringing visibility to ships that were outside effective visual range of Concordia.

It was astonishing; Natasi's heart swelled with pride at the ingenuity of the First Order officers and pilots. The message made its way across the battlefield -- slower, perhaps, than a com signal, but made all the more impactful and urgent by the desperate method of communication and -- she hoped -- the content of it, once unscrambled by the officers. Natasi's pulse pounded in her ears as she stared out the viewport, looking for a return signal.

As the seconds ticked into minutes, in the distance, on the bridge of a small First Order support vessel, a communications officer's head cocked to one side as he examined the peculiar pattern being flashed at them from [member="Robogeber"]'s flagship in the distance. It was odd but somehow familiar, like a song he used to know. His finger tapped in time with the lights, then -- "Criminy!" He dug for a pencil and began to write.

...ORDIA BOARDED ENEMY FORCES. COMMS JAMMED. SEND SHUTTLE FOR REINFMTS NOW. GRDMF NF CONCORDIA BOARDED ENE...

"Ma'am!" he said as he came to the captain of the vessel. He thrust the hastily scrawled message in front of her. "Concordia is signaling, using the light pulses! They've been boarded and she's ordering reinforcements!"

"What is this?" asked the Captain skeptically, her eyebrows furrowing. "I don't recognize that code."

"I was at Dosuun during the Siege, Captain. In the city, we used this code to communicate because the Scales couldn't work it out. Please, ma'am, we have to dispatch a shuttle to Grand Admiral Tregessar's forces outside the system."

The Captain squinted out the viewport, then down at the note once more, and gritted her teeth. "Very well, Lieutenant. If you know this code -- write out a key for us and then take the message to Grand Admiral Tregessar yourself. You'll be able to translate any additional signals to the Grand Admiral when he arrives in-system. I'll have the docking master clear a shuttle for you by the time you get to the shuttle bay."

The Lieutenant was already jotting the code to the best of his memory, and when completed, left it with his deputy. "Signal back to Pellaeon and Concordia. Tell them: Message received. Help is on the way." The deputy looked down at the code and began to signal back the message as he had heard it.

Natasi felt at home on the bridge of Concordia. She had led Battlegroup Nebula into battle during the Omega Crisis, so she was used to being in control of the ship. But now, with Escala in command, Natasi just wanted to stay out of his way and let him get on with things. As she waited, looking ever towards the viewscreens, for a reply she let her eyes glance over to [member="Val Kordova"]. "Have you heard any news from our friend?" she asked, clearly referring to [member="The Major"], whose disappearance made Natasi uneasy. She believed in Shepard's abilities, but her being out of sight made the Grand Moff uncomfortable.

"If you have a way to be in touch with her, do let her know that the FIST reserves on board can be deployed to her location if needed," Natasi continued. "I'm sure sh -- oh! Look!"

Natasi peered into the void, her dark eyes narrowing as she translated the light pulses coming back to them. She jotted the characters down as she deciphered them until she had a complete message:

"Captain Escala," Natasi said breathlessly as she handed him the paper upon which she had transcribed the message. "You should see this."

She let herself breathe a sigh of relief. Her gamble had paid off. The Concordia wasn't out of the woods yet, but there was hope, at least for the First Order's efforts at Skor II.

Srina Talon · Aug 9, 2018

Location: Skor II [Palace Grounds]
Objective: Palace of the Squib King
Allies: ORC | Alliance in Exile [member="Mishel Noren"] | [member="Romi Jade"] | [member="Shia Kryze"] | [member="Krenis Skirata"] | [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]
Enemies/Engaging: The First Order [Please forgive me if I missed a tag. I'm not 100% on who is in the area.] [member="Rexus Wenck"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Omari Vyken"] | [member="Keira Verd"]
NPC: Magnaguard x8 [One Squad] | Squib Resistance

Time wasn’t entirely on her side. They hadn’t been prepared for an all-out war on what should have been a diplomatic venture. She had some weapons, the Scarlet Vow, and her usual effects but her armor would not last forever. There were certain limitations that would eventually cause the crimson and onyx Mandalorian Steel to disappear back into the mists from whence it came. She did her best not to think about it. Instead, she coordinated with the Jedi they followed and kept the nightmarish Magnaguard on point. With the way the group moved, swift, and with the precision of a surgeon’s blade, they cut a swath through the opposition to make it to the intended destination as quickly as they could.

At first, here and there, they found a Squib and or an ally stunned, left alive, but abandoned in the grit for anyone to trip over. It was strange. Srina had fully expected to see anyone not standing mortally wounded or dead. Eventually, she wasn’t disappointed. The deeper they went into the chaos the more the signs of a hostile takeover began to make themselves apparent. As the tension rose—so did the number of lifeless corpses.

Stormtroopers barred their way more than once. Srina, much to her chagrin, was sporting a burn mark across her upper cheek that stung like the devil. It would heal, in time.

For the most part, Srina tried to act as a guardian for the light siders they were escorting. This was their show, their fight, they were merely along for the ride. She didn’t know what boundaries ought to be observed with the Coalition. When she’d worked with the Alliance she’d been extremely careful not to let the yellow-gold of her corrupted eyes show too frequently. From the way most of the party had reacted to their initial presence she wasn’t certain where to draw the line. What would they do if she conjured a smoke demon from the depths as she had on Tatooine? What would they do if her Master summoned the Wraith that he had used to try and smite their greatest enemy?

Dancing this line of aid and restraint was delicate. In the end, she made the choice to fight as she always had. Conservatively, but decisively. Srina generally fought as if she was always expecting a battle to turn into trench combat for weeks. She wanted to withstand the enemy and outlast them and that involved avoiding burning too brightly lest she burn out too soon.

It was entirely possible that they missed some of the opposition on the way in. There were so many hallways, twists, turns and what appeared to be traps that it was true and utter chaos. Entire areas seemed to have been deliberately been collapsed to force the flow of incoming forces to flow in the same direction. The rubble and debris made the terrain difficult to maneuver for both sides. The group did their best to sweep for hostiles, but, the sense of urgency that threaded through the group to link up with their leaders kept them focused. She heard them say it over and over. Even from [member="Coren Starchaser"] specifically.

Get to the Judges. Sedaire and Fyre—that was their main objective.

Grenades went off and she heeded the words of [member="Mishel Noren"] just in time to widen her stance so that she could brace for the controlled explosion. It wasn’t terrible, they weren’t close enough, but she could still feel the tremors in her bones. The air felt cloistered. All around, she could feel enemies. Walls of metal were between them, staircases, floors, but she could still feel them. They would only get closer.

The silent Echani kept her head on a swivel and held her Verpine Hand Canon with one hand. She preferred to use two, for a steadier shot, but her other arm could be used to shield from incoming fire through a few other means. The hodgepodge strike force moved into the area while keeping the tight formation that had served them so well before. [member="Romi Jade"] was threading something through the Force that Srina noticed in a flare of power but it didn’t seem to touch her. Not yet.

Seeing that one of their mission objectives, [member="Dax Fyre"], was in a most literal sticky situation she pressed forward and activated a shield created by the Confederate Mandragora to help deflect blaster fire. It was a personal light shield, egg-shaped, and two of the Magnaguard shifted to reinforce the protective line they would soon create. It wasn’t invincible but she hoped it would buy enough time. “Srina Talon.”, the white-haired Sith Apprentice spoke swiftly, offering the man her arm so that he might have the leverage to escape the adhesive. She was a lot stronger than she looked. Especially, with the deliberate aid of the Force.

She was careful not to touch the still-tacky substance. The last thing the group needed was both of them to wind up glued to the floor by thick layers of rancor snot. “Let me take most of the burden and don’t be afraid to pull. It already looks unstable. Like it’s dissolving.”

Slowly. Too slowly. With blaster fire echoing around their heads and enemy numbers increasing they needed this Coalition Judge on his feet. She didn’t know what might hurry the decay of the adhesive along so she opted for the path of least resistance—Brute force.

Arrived in Ship: Scimitar-Class Star Courier

Equipment:

HG-54 "The Vora" Class Verpine Hand Cannon
Lightsaber [White Blade/CrossGuard]
Terentatek Body Glove
Holo-Comm
Light-Shield Bracelet [Shield - Active]
Scarlet Vow [Armor - Active]
Holdin' Aces [Ring - Inactive/Inert]
Ring of Aspiration [Ring - Inactive/Inert]

Most recent edit made just to fix a typo - Was driving me crazy

Cynthia Alucard · Aug 9, 2018

Captain (Jr. Grade) Cynthia "Cyn" Alucard

Designation: Pixie Leader

Classification: Fighter Interception Squadron (1)

Engaged Directly: Griet van Vliet

Danger Close(In Close Vicinity): Dano Dil

Engaging: Enemy Bombers heading for Sixth Fleet

Engaging: [member="Roth Tillian"]

The ever growing threat of death, the specter of the void chasing after any and all pilots, pushed the Pixies further into tense focus. Cyn thanked whoever designed her TIE craft, its maneuverability seemed to obey every slight movement or twitch of her hands and feet.

Cyn pitched to her side, and spun on her axis, as her thrusters spiraled her TIE to not only make her a harder target to hit but let any other well aimed shots to glance off the edges of the shield. Cyn grimaced as a few bolts shot past her, she knew very well how vulnerable her craft was just as the rest of Pixie understood their own fragility in pitched combat.

Their retractable turret began peppering their new attackers, the droid brain taking up the task to allow the pilot’s focus to remain on defensively maneuvering. Cyn gritted her teeth, sweat rolled down her face even as her pilot suit’s internal environmental control worked to dry it off.

“Pixe Three, Four, Six and Eight, Pixie Two is in command and follow him back to Sixth Fleet,” Cyn ordered, her voice louder now, “-I’ll fly vanguard and cover your rear.” Cyn added, her voice reaffirming her last order.

The hesitation from her squad only lasted a mere second, and they rerouted more energy into their engines and pushed their TIE craft to near impossible speeds for normal pilots to not fall unconscious.

Cyn for her part loaded two concussion missiles, and fired them ahead and away from the enemy chasing from behind. The missiles sputtered before halting as Cyn shot past them and her retractable laser turret fired two precise shots and ignited the two missiles and exploded behind Cyn. Here’s my chance.

She once again silently thanked her droid brain as her hands snapped her TIE to the left, igniting all thrusters turn her entire craft around. All the momentum she had gained slammed into her, the G-Force of the maneuver darkened her vision Cyn struggled to remain conscious.

Her hands accelerated her TIE, now forward straight at her approaching enemies. Her ion and laser cannons fired at the incoming enemy fighters, her shields faltered but Cyn relied on her speed to make any shot not difficult to hit but glance off of her dangerously weakened shields.

TIE/SF - Conqueror x6
Engaging with 1 (Cyn herself)

Cyrus Tregessar · Aug 9, 2018

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3BE0D9geu2o&list=RDuojyFHESNB4&index=27

War is the father and king of all: some he has made gods, and some men; some slaves and some free.

The scout ship, a humble FIPV-9 corvette, ubiquitous in First Order service, fled the battlefield, carried by wings of fear. And of hope. A hard burn at impulse, pushing the reactor and main drive so hard it stressed the inertial dampners and threatened to blow the containment, but they burned clear of any interdiction fields and jumped. It wasn't long, or far, and in truth the vessel could hardly sustain much, but all they needed to do was clear the cacophony of the battlefield and send a message across space, through they hyperwave networks. A message back home, for help.

Once again the First Order seemed to have overreached. Once again they had stumbled at the unremarkable system of Skor. Once again they had their nose bloodied in orbit over the same world. Once again they risked defeat at the hands of old foes. And now desperate, the mother of a nation called for aid.

And the nation answered.

The message was received, answered, and repeated. A hundred times a hundred times again, they answered the call. A pair of frigates on border patrol. A destroyer in for maintenance. A cruiser squadron on shore leave. Without orders or direction they answered the call to defend a nation in honor and in life. From Mustafar and Rutan, Elrood and Dagobah, Barkesh and Isis they came, assembled, formed squadrons and formations, prepared for war.

From the bridge of his flagship, Grand Admiral Cyrus Tregessar watched the fleet assemble. Minutes stretched for what seemed like hours, and finally he could wait no more. It was a curious thing, to rush to battle for a cause that he cared nothing about. But for the hundreds of thousands of men and women arrayed before him, the fate of everything they believed in was at risk. For Cyrus, battle had its own purpose, and if the ORC had dredged up an armada that could bring a First Order fleet to its knees...
Well, it would be a worthy fight.

He gave no orders, merely issued a single command. All ships would open a connection to the flagship and accept command inputs direct to their host combat systems. The Battlespace Master Control System was engaged.

The Warmind was in command of the fleet.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZXRzZi8Xuc

They arrived at Skor in a formation unlike had ever been used in war in space before in history. Perhaps the insectoid swarm brains of the Kilik could make sense of it, but for the First Order fleet it was clear that the tactical scheme devised by the supercomputer AI onboard the Wrath was far too complex for a human mind to follow. Even Cyrus, with nearly half a century of combat experience behind him, could only make out broad cuts and thrusts, the most basic avenues of attack and defense, advance and retreat. But the captains and crew of the First Order warships didn't need to comprehend, they needed only to obey.

And they were very good at that.

The primary display on every warship took on an almost arcane display as the legions of computer banks on the Wrath calculated the inputs of every vessel in the fleet, their capabilities, their flaws, even the skill and proficiency of their crew. Calculations and coordinates scrolled across the hundreds of screens for several minutes, before finally solidifying into a basic set of maneuvering coordinates. On Cyrus' personal display, a tiny alert flashed. The Warmind had finished, it awaited the next command.

Cyrus keyed his comm, which had already been patched into the data exchange network. It wasn't an intended feature of the system, but the side effect of having a frequency-agile data link was that in a dire situation, you could cut off the data stream to transmit voice. With the calculations complete for the moment, Cyrus did just this, and his iron-tinged voice echoed out across the fleet. “All ships, standby to execute assigned maneuvering directions on my mark.” He waited a moment, letting the the fleet make ready as best they could. Once again he saw the way the painting would unfold only in broad strokes, and his face became a mask of concern as tried to analyze the featureless, almost amorphous formation the AI had adopted for the fleet before their jump.

“Execute.”

Tens of thousands of men and women went to work, powering thrusters, shifting vectors, each ship following the directions that were unique to it and it alone. At first glance, nothing changed, just wretched blob-like excuse of a warship formation surging forward as one.

And then, it bloomed.

A dozen tendrils spun away, packs of corvettes, frigates, and fast cruisers on intercept courses with enemy vessels. Destroyers shifting to take up covering fire positions, carriers on the wings, disgorging their hordes of strike craft, a pack of battlecruisers in line abreast in the middle, and smaller escorts filling in and drifting about like angry wasps in a swarm. Like a horrific eldritch monstrosity the formation ripped itself asunder and flowed in and around itself, suddenly resembling a kraken or hydra, but with half a hundred heads, each spitting fire as they came.

For a moment, it was magnificent, like a massive terrifying beast, ready to consume the fleets before it, and Cyrus took in the moment with an almost alien feeling of awe. It wouldn't last, of course, contact with the enemy would tear the carefully laid formation apart and force the AI to compensate, but for an instant it seemed all but unassailable, an entire fleet of thousands with a single will and focus.

In truth, there was no need to give a command, those ships in range had already begun to fire upon their designated targets. But Cyrus couldn't help but feel that given everything, a few choice words were appropriate. He was laconic, as usual.

“All ships, fire at will.”

As space lit up with the anger of and fury of a nation at war, Cyrus rose and walked back to a far corner of the cavernous CIC of the First Order Super Star Destroyer. He stopped short, and dipped his head and neck slightly in the barest imitation of a bow that was as much deference as he had ever showed any man.

"We are engaged. The fleet is at your command."

Location: Super Star Destroyer, FIV Wrath, Skor System
Objective: The Cavalry
Allies: The First Order | [member="Kou'ha Escala"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Karl Von Strauss"] | [member="The Private"] | [member="Morro"] | [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Cynthia Alucard"]
Enemies: The Alliance-in-Exile | The ORC | [member="Mazik Stazi"] | [member="Silara Varis"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Cathul Thuku"] | [member="Mittens"] | [member="Kaine Australis"]

Number of ships roughly equal to whatever is narratively appropriate to write something neat. Feel free to call hits on NPC vessels, cause a mess, cascade explosions, or whatever else makes for a better battle scene.

Vestille Thumahra · Aug 9, 2018

Vestille Thumahra

Skor II, Royal Palace

Objective III: Close The Gap

Friendly Assets: First Order ([member="Omari Vyken"], [member="Primat Ren"], [member="Varas Ren"], [member="Rexus Wenck"], [member="Rolf Amsel"], [member="Marriskcal Lati"]) | Nowhere nearby

Opposing Force: ORC ([member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Zef Halo"], [member="Yula Perl"], [member="Dax Fyre"], [member="Mishka Larraq"], [member="Jaius Sovv"], [member="Coren Starchaser"], [member="Mishel Noren"]) | Directly Engaging [member="Krenis Skirata"]

The fine wood became burning ruins as blaster bolts made their contact.

The gauntlet seemed to stretch forever, the Colonel finding himself only split seconds of reprieve before the cover that he reached was soon to be ripped apart by the blue streaks of plasma that seemed insistent on creeping closer and closer to scoring the killing blow. Beneath the helmet, Vestille was hard at work with forming a strategy to both keep himself alive and eliminate the apparent threat; he had at least made significant headway and ensured that the distance was close enough to ensure that the utilization of explosives or any other form of grenade would come with at least some sort of risk but with the Commando having the advantage of height and range, that possibility of simply granting the Colonel a swift death by thermal detonator or to simply incapacitate for capture, it was clear that the playing field had to be brought to level once again. His occasional burst of blaster pistol shots had been at least somewhat effective but it wasn't until the shot had landed upon the enemy's repulsor jets and forcefully brought the Commando back down to earth.

Equilibrium had been established but how long it would last was uncertain.

It was that moment's stumble that the Colonel moved from that burning husk of cover which was once a fine cabinet to the next in order to close in to a suitable range. Of course, this did not come without risk for the moment that the Commando re-stabilized the volley of focused fire roared into life once more and what with infared targeting and Vestille being as large and noticeable as he was, the shots found their mark; the armor soaking up some but it was clear that several had found their mark and left a bite that would weaken the figure that was bounding from cover to cover. Vestille felt the sting and searing sensation that was left by the bolts of plasma yet giving up or surrendering never crossed his mind. Through zeal installed during his days within the Galactic Empire and the bolstering provided through his journey of misery, the Colonel never stopped his advance; though the body could be ripped to shreds, the spirit was a fortress that even the heaviest of guns could not destroy. Vestille reached the next cover, knowing all too well that a straight charge towards the enemy would result in certain death, knowing how zeroed in the Commando was on onto his presence. The blaster bolts were already breaching through the wooden structure that he kept behind.

It was do or die.

Crouching down to his lowest point, the sidearms were holstered in a bid to start to push the piece of cover forward to close the gap and provide just enough protection to make it into some form of close quarters range to which his plan would come into play. Vestille felt the heat of the bolts ripping through the wooden construct and flying over his head, the occasional fired low enough to score some form of hit upon the Colonel and allow the snake of pain sink its fangs into him and inject that dose of poison and the sensation of burning flesh that he knew all too well. Battered, bloodied but he would not be beaten today, his soul would not join his kin in the lands of death. Closer he crept, ready to fling himself into the enemy with a sword held high.

He simply needed the gap closed.

Kahne Porte · Aug 9, 2018

Location: Palace
Allies:ORC/AIE
Enemies: [member="Primat Ren"] -FO/KOR
Equipment:Armor, Standard Lightsaber

Kahne placed his hand on the chest of the young man as he passed from this world. The Jedi Master's attention was diverted for a moment as he heard the sounds of steps down the hallway. Kahne looked in that direction and it wasn't long until he caught glimpse of whom it was. And member of the Order of Ren was before him. This wouldn't be the first time that he had been in direct flight with this order, after he had fought [member="Sieger Ren"]

The Jedi Master stood up, the blade still alight as he held it to his side, walking a few small steps towards the man before the Jedi's hand shot forward sending a small wave of force energy towards the Knight of Ren. It wouldn't be long before he would close the distance between them. The Knights of Ren and the First Order were responsible for the many lives lost on Lothal as well as countless other worlds. Kahne wasn't one to dwell on anger, it was against his nature. Hope was essential in his life, and for that to be alive he would have to continue to fight. And if he fought against the Knights Of Ren until their wasn't a single one left in this galaxy.

He was in for a long ride.

Silara Varis · Aug 9, 2018

ALLIED THIRD FLEET

Experimental Warfare Specialists

Commander: R ADM Silara Varis

OOC: Tagging those I'm directly engaged with, to keep notifications from exploding

Allies: [member="Cathul Thuku"] [member="Mazik Stazi"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Roth Tillian"] | [member="Dano Dil"]l | [member="Mittens"] | [member="Kaine Australis"] | [member="Griet van Vliet"] |
Enemies: [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Morro"] | [member="Karl Von Strauss"] | [member="The Private"] | @Cyntia Allucard | [member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Kou'ha Escala"] | @Grom Cardan |
Objective: BREAK MORALE
Location: All over the place

"Ma'am we have multiple vessels trying to wedge in between Merchant and the Devastators Stern."

"Close the gap, put them meters apart from the danger zone of those Hypermatter engines. If they want to slide their escorts in, let them feel the burn."

All across the front the fight was heating up, almost desperate for some crews. She noted she was down a considerable number of Purrgils, and that many of her vessels had sustained heavy, heavy shield damage.

This is working, but barely. Need a better strategy.....

"All Hypervelocity guns are up and ready Ma'am."

She nodded, calm as cold steel. The bridge was choas, comms officers shouting trying to get messages across the battle space, gunnery officers mucking about between terminals, alarms blaring, lights flashing, and decks rumbling as chain reactions decompressed some sections.

Silara ignored it all, her cold calculating mind fixed upon the holo tank before her, hands clasped behind her back.

She adjusted her dress blues and lit another smoke.

"By eyeball and ion cannon pulse, get me a better readout of available commanders."

And the readout came through. They worked furiously over the next twenty minutes, scanning view ports, firing their ion cannons to signal other ships nearby in morse. It was't the cleanest of all things, but it was decent enough for her to get a handle.

"Report as follows. Admiral Thuku and Stazi, engaged with Admiral Robogeber. Admiral Khoua or some such name, engaged with... not sure Ma'am but reports indicate Ram ships impacted the Concordia and they may have a certain high ranking official on board. Admirals Morro engaged with us. Admiral Grom? Is this right Ensign?...."

She took a deep drag from her cigarette red ember lighting her features as it burned.

"Yeah Grom, just arrived. Admiral Merrill engaged with Admiral Strauss."

The battlefield is too wide. There's no coordination now......

Whats the bigger blow. Their pride or a shot at their Higher ranking folks........

"XO, send message designated priority Alpha to all Allied Vessels in the Sector.

Message begins. Attention all fleets, This is Rear Admiral Varis BREAK, Opportunity to break First Order Morale Spotted, BREAK, Re-adjust ALL FIRE, REPEAT ALL FIRE to FIV PELLAEON BREAK. Boarding crews to Concordia, BREAK."

Hopefully with fresher fleets abound they'd have a better chance. As it was her own vessels were stern of the two larger warships. Concentrated fire from all sides, and from their stern would really rattle them.

Hopefully break them. Once a Dreadnought starts going down, so do peoples hopes of winning.

"New orders. Merchant Command, repeat last firing orders. Alliance Command, Qekoth Command, repeat last firing sequence. Hyper-velocity cannons aboard our ship, group into firing solutions of thirty per. Designate three targets, FIV Zahn, FIV Anastasia, FIV White. Let's give Merrill some support."

Moments later the Purrgil kind crashed lifeless down towards the Pellaeon. The Supreme broke off, making a bee line to @Rhekka Karde. The mass of the king hopefully would crush down on what was left of their bridge, causing further damage.

The decks rumbled like an earthquake below her shiny black boots as the Hyper Velocity cannons opened up, hurling magnetically accelerated Tungsten core rounds, thirty at a time towards their prey. Another one of their vessels took a hit near her bridge, shields finally failing. Again the Qekoth vessel dove, bee-lining for the engines of Morros FIV Devastator.

She felt icy hands clench her heart.

Again she snapped a silent Salute to their Captain and crew, feeling emotion well within her, a bit of water in her eyes.

She stubbed her cigarette out on the rail, tossed it to the deck and ground it to bits with her boot, letting out her anguish through the action....

RECAP

Merchant Command moves in closer to Devastator Stern, denying area between them and engines. Repeats Fires
Qekoth and Alliance Command Continue to fire into stern of FIV Pellaeon
ANS Resolute Vengeance II opens fire with Hyper-velocity cannons 30x EA on: FIV White, FIV Anastasia, FIV Zhan
Purrgil King Dies, Purrgil Supreme Flees, other Purrgils Flee, Whale Command finished.
Qekoth Command -1.
Message goes out to Alliance asking to target Pellaeon, board Concordia

WHALE COMMAND -8

Wroth-gar the Supreme - Purrgil Ultra
25

(1000m) size estimates
exiting

King Torvald- Purrgil King
25

~~(400m)~~

Dasher- Purrgil
100

~~(50m)~~

Dancer- Purrgil
100

Prancer- Purrgil
100

Blitzen-Purrgil
25

Rudolph- Purrgil
25

Comet- Purrgil
75

Cupid- Purrgil
75

Vixen- Purrgil Exiting
52

Donner- Purrgil Exiting
35

Ted- Purrgil Exiting
50

Fred- Purrgil
10

Alabaster- Purrgil
5

QEKOTH Command -3

ONV Albatross- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
25/100

ONV Savage- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
100/100

ONV Relentless- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
25/100

ONV Resci- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
100/100

ONV Taj- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
25/100

ONV Rift- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
50/100

ONV Wrell- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
70/100

ONV Qekoth Prime- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
25/100

ONV Qek- Bishop Class Heavy Cruiser
15/100

Alliance Command

ANS Resolute Vengeance II- Breakthrough-Class Battlecruiser
75/85

ANS Denigrator- Scythe Class Heavy Cruiser
75/100

ANS Resurgence- Jast Elite Destroyer
75/100

ANS Insurgent- Jast Elite Destroyer
75/100

ANS Shield- Jast Disabler Destroyer
75/100

ANS Shield- Jast Disabler Destroyer
75/100

ANS Wrecker- Jast Disabler Destroyer
75/100

ANS Anvil- Jast Disabler Destroyer
75/100

ANS Blackout- Jast Blackout
25/100

ANS Blackout II- Jast Blackout
0/75

Merhcant Command

Cathar- Prince Class Tof Bulk Cruiser
50/100

Belknap- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

Mulcher- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

Cridger- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

Bridger- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

Blackbeard- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

Davey Jones- Royal Class Tof Light Clipper
50/100

The Major · Aug 9, 2018

Ten days prior to this day awash in the glow of the turbolaser blast a warning had been provided. Ten days were established to allow whatever passed for a government with the self described free and lawless expanse of the Coalition to produce some sort of official retort: to sue for more time to emigrate from the accursed world of Skor II, to offer an appeasement for the sake of the civilians they claimed to protect, to do something, anything, that acknowledged the ultimatum provided. Sadly, even the puppet king of the Squib homeworld made no effort to cut his own deal with the First Order. Perhaps this supposed head of state was forced, pushed by exiles, criminals, and worse yet Jedi and their ilk, to set the stage for this defensive play. After all, in the galaxy’s eyes, to work with the First Order was the tantamount, cardinal sin. Blasphemy in the eyes of the agents of chaos. These charlatans hid behind the cloak of righteousness, basking in self praise for setting up defensive networks and bringing people into harm’s way out of pride.

All to block the First Order its destiny. All to contend with a force never before seen in this galaxy, superior to the empires of the lost ancients and free from their biases, accompanied by the Sith Empire on opposite side of the galaxy; two sides of the coin of supremacy: one unifying power and all the violence that entails under its right wing, the other unifying order and all the discipline such produced beneath its left.

Was it worth the results of the eleventh day? Animals and warriors from far away had come to kill and be killed in stakes that had the remotest and most tenuous of connections to their fatherlands. Perhaps this state of war was the best all sentient life could achieve, and within those grisly chains a purpose one could ascertain, be it at the end of a blaster, behind the viewscreen of a starfighter, or skewered by a lightsaber. Today, both over and on this planet the struggle for such meaning bestowed itself in different ways.

For a TIE Raptor ace, it was waking from forced unconsciousness to find she was floating in zero gee, dangling from a tether attached to the shattered remains of her ship that had not exploded and killed her instantaneously. As luck would have it she now could enjoy spinning lazily without any control, slowly suffocating as her air supply drained —extremely cold on the side of her facing the planet, and hot on the side of her facing this system's star. Panic was not an option, for something inside her body was broken and didn't allow her to move her limbs to flail. Instead, the ex-pilot passed gently, watching the strange space monster majestically turn and pulse against the backdrop of shattered hulls and purple nebula. A sudden, final chill washed over her as the largest spaceship she had ever seen appeared upon the scene —an angel painted black and gray set to whisk her frostbitten corpse back to whence she came, for she was so far from home.

It was a special kind of chill, one shared by the pitiful beings contending each other while overwatched by their self created valkyries. A stormtrooper running curfew patrol had long since recognized that he wouldn't make it the moment comms went down and the attacks on their patrol started in earnest. He had been struck by some kind of special blaster and laid upon his side while leaking out his essence over the white armor once so proudly shod in name of Supreme Leader and his family. He mused on his son, uneasy that one day he might follow in his footsteps to the corps. due to the risk, but proud of his boy’s imagined gallantry all the same. That was why the dying trooper couldn't shoot his blaster when he saw that other child running in the street despite the fact a rebel was aiming a sharpshot from beyond that point down the street. As the chilling grand finale took the now dead soldier over, he held the picture of his son’s face, mixed with the youth that he sincerely hoped got away safely, and distinctly felt so far from home.

Bitter were the sorrows and regrets for the medic aboard who looked up in time to see his LAAT gunship that was being used to ferry medical supplies to the edge of the city had taken flak and bounced with a horrid lurch. Although the pilots remained stoic, he cursed as he leaned over to cover the wounded combat surgeon who shook horribly with the shrapnel stuck in his chest. There was no time to reflect on the circumstances of their demise, only he held a glimpse of home before the transport crashed through an apartment and exploded as it wrecked into a scrapyard.

So it went.

And aboard another ship in space?

This particular FIST trooper, Pvt. Herman, had been grabbed by that Director to follow with a crazed look in her eye. Not knowing all too much about the Security Bureau he figured the woman was looking for an escort to an escape to ditch off the ship since it was under boarding attack. So it was more than a pleasant surprise when hefted and strapped on a flame D-93 Flamethrower, hissing out her plan to take the turbolifts up to the exact floor of the invaders, deploying bubble shields to skirt some of the potential damage before surrounding and destroying the rascals.

But it was doomed, and all thanks to an unfortunate set of coincidences.

Firstly, Herman’s lift went up first just ahead, due to a fluke in the machinery or the fact that he hit the button before the psycho redhead barked out “3”. It was only a second or two but it was already enough to effectively sign the trooper’s death warrant.
Unbeknownst to him and the turbolift ambushers a Mando had just finished cutting the safety door at the stop Herman and his wingman were going to use. The turbolifts were designed for a diplomatic state vessel that was made to impress dignitaries, foreign leaders, and who ever else Grand Moff Fortan was helping at the time. They were more quiet than a whisper.

Maybe that’s why nobody double checked when they tossed a seismic charge with a five second timer into a now opening turbolift.

One second was the shock, and part of that surprise was the oddity of seeing the invasion forces that close with their backs turned.

The second second was spent realizing that the Mandalorians were ducking, bracing for what had to be impact.

The third was Herman’s elite training, which allowed him to realize that something hit him in the chest and start grabbing at it.

The fourth was the unfortunate reality that no human was omnipotent, and the pair had forgotten to activate their shields or to start firing down the opening. Instead the other guy was watching Herman gain purchase on the device and begin to swing it back.

The fifth? Well, the charge managed to get just out of the fingertips of Herman, the First Imperial Shock Trooper, running just next to the opening of the lift.

While it was doubtful anyone would ever be able to find one solid piece of Herman from this point onward, there was no denying that his actions on this eleventh day, so far from his home, had saved many lives of the crew below. Others would maybe pass along his tale, but they would never know how his face was scrunched and twisted under the helmet.

Regardless, if the charge hadn’t gotten him, then that little device used to send a pulse would have done him in a few moments later because of the grenades in his pack. It was hard to tell if the detonation of a device designed to crush space rocks had some fair measure of effect upon the signal of the handy boarding tool. Perhaps the jamming of multiple channels by the Coalition and the First Order’s constant uphill battle of trying to out-power those jammed channels were causing a lot of background noise. Maybe it was was some of the ion torpedoes and grenades that were used still staining the air with their electronic disruptions that also proved tricky for the signal. Whatever the case, the troopers effected were contained to the immediate area encroaching upon the invaders upon the same deck in few dozen meters.

It didn't really matter much since an explosion rippled through the deck, failing to pierce the reinforced, thick bulkhead since the device was made to stab through thin durasteel and rock as more of a mining tool. Unfortunately the state rooms adjacent to the attack were designed to hold glamour, not withstand damage, and the explosion wrecked in these directions, causing the decks above to have all but their skeletal frames collapse, burying the point of battle under tons of rubble in the space of seconds as furniture, concrete, and bodies crunched down. The secondary explosions of the pulse sent by the Mando warlord only compounded the amount of debris as more pieces of wall and unsecured equipment piled on.

For the Major herself, her perspective on events weren’t so nuanced. One second, she was barking a command and feeling the lift start to take her upwards. In the next a sudden rumble shook. The sum total of her awareness then went black immediately afterwards -no meditation, no overwrought sensory experience of the destruction, no winking guidance of starlight- and she was lost in its wake.

Progflaw99 · Aug 9, 2018

"We are engaged. The fleet is at your command."

The beacons had been lit, the message relayed and in turn - answered. It was a thing of power, of strength, and as the shadow of the FIV Wrath was cast upon the world of Skor II the shrouded figure upon the bridge couldn't help but feel a sense of intoxication. To have seen the brink of existence, to have touched the essence of death itself and risen from the ashes... It was as if his senses had increased tenfold, the fresh blood coursing through his veins breathing new life into his body. A body made whole. No longer confined within the prison of a mottled husk, he had changed. An underlying shift in his aura - even if those around him had noticed they dared not say a word. Something more primal, darker, older even and yet he was the same man they'd come to know as the Supreme Leader of the First Order. Sieger Ren.

"Excellent."

Sieger's voice was quiet but firm, his features drawn taut as his eyes gazed out upon the mess that was the battlefield. It stretched wide across the stars, vessels cutting and biting, shifting and dodging. The feeling of life, the avid fear of death, the sudden release as beings were cast into the void - the sheer magnitude of it all threatened to overwhelm his newfound senses. Or perhaps a better word, rediscovered.

"Carry on Grand Admiral, I have the utmost faith in your abilities to see this battle decided."

Equal parts truth and expectation, it was then that Sieger chose to move. Purposeful strides directed him to the viewscreen at the front of the bridge. A change had not only occurred in the man's aura but his wardrobe as well. Gone were the fanciful fabrics, the soft slippers upon his feet. Comfort did not seem the priority it once was for the older man, instead his demeanor projected a near ice cold stoicism. Coarse darkened fabric rest upon his shoulders, the tunic beneath only slightly more comfortable - all excess had been removed. Simple. Cold. Utilitarian. An almost alien snarl escaped his lips, strange to the ears of men should they have heard. In measured movement he had arrived before the glass, his hands rising to touch their surface. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and placed his hands upon the screen.

It was slow at first. Not unlike picking up a bicycle after years of non use, like the first hand of sabacc after months without a game. Not unlike the first few blows of a fight, the sudden release of adrenaline. Your body fighting against your will before you subdue it, before you subjugate it to do your bidding. The Living Force, the mystical aura some had come to love, others to hate, even more still oblivious to its existence. There was no denying it here. Sieger felt its presence just as strongly as it felt his. One could wander in this place between reality and fantasy, listlessly consumed by the magnitude of it but that was not his goal, Sieger had a direction, a purpose, a desire. Fighting through he began to recognize familiar beacons, small presence through the Force which held meaning to him. Admiral Rausgeber. Morro, the Chiss naval officer. Gromm Cardan, a naval officer of the former Galactic Empire. Perhaps the most important of these: Natasi Josephine Fortan, Mother of the Nation.

It took him time to recall the familiar ebbs and flows of the Force but once he found a thread, he pulled. As was his way Sieger passed no words, merely a presence projected towards the secondary bridge of the FIV Concordia. The battle they now fought was dire, he could sense the exasperation, the fear, the anxiety. Tempting though it was, Sieger pushed back against the Force - he was not here to consume. A reassuring hand on their shoulder, a warm ember in the pits of their stomachs, clarity of mind and purpose. These were the things Sieger projected. The Concordia first, the others second, but to the Grand Moff, something more. Approval.

She had done well, the tribulations of the past creating not only a figurehead for the First Order but a woman who could see beyond her own desires and wishes to attain a greater objective. A woman who could bring the errant back to heel. A woman who could take firm grasp of the reins in times of strife and conflict. Sieger was not displeased.

An interruption distracted him momentarily, yet another familiar presence pressing upon the very fringes of the Force. This one was farther away, perhaps upon the surface. Rolf Amsel. A well decorated soldier, a trooper who had come a long way since those days of the Avalonian Games. Now a high ranking member of the Order, he too was here, straits dire as well. Malevolence seemed to surround the very sector, a hate not only isolated to those belonging to the First Order. Fear. Hate. Integral pieces of the Dark Side, almost a gateway. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. The corners of Sieger's lips turned upward as the silent phrase played through his mind, eyes still closed. Hate leads to suffering.

Oh yes, Sieger could feel it there upon the surface. Anger, the desire for revenge, perhaps even hate. That he could use. His focus directed, the Supreme Leader could feel the eagerness of the Squib to resist, they almost craved for the death of the First Order soldiers more than the reverse - it was a ripe field for the plucking. Slowly at first, twisting the threads of the Force and manipulating them to his will. Eagerness, haste, and desire for revenge were powerful emotions. Ones that when amplified could become... self destructive. It was upon the Squib below that Sieger focused his ethereal attack. A sense of emboldening, a lack of concern for safety, an almost chaotic desire for revenge for the perceived wrongs of the First Order. He would drive them to carelessness, or to the brink of madness.

Fervor worked both ways however, it was not without risk. His troopers on the ground would face increased risk but with an increased reward should they persevere. Sieger fed into their anger, fed into their hate. They had held close so much of it already, a burning ember deep within now brought the very surface. He took it in, then pushed it out, a feedback loop of fear, of anger and of hate - a weapon of self destruction brought to bear upon those who sought to impede the First Order, those who dared resist the will of Sieger Ren.

Location: FIV Wrath

Allies:

[member="Natasi Fortan"] | [member="Robogeber"] | [member="Kou'ha Escala"] | [member="Gromm Cardan"]

Enemies:

Jada Raxis · Aug 9, 2018

Location: FIV Anastasia
Objective: SECRET MISH
Allies: [member="Jorus Merrill"]
Enemies: [member="Karl Von Strauss"]

The Transport craft docked and claws latched into the under-hull of FIV Anastasia. She knew she had little time. Her gambit was extreme but if may just help her fellow Warden Jorus grab the upper hand.

She rose, and stepped through the tight hall way to her gear lockers. Where she donned an old set of stormtrooper armor she kept on hand. The helmet clickied into place with a satisfying sound. She pulled her gauntlets up onto her forearms, collapsed her echani double ended vibrosword and mounted her drone to the back plate.

Last was the shockgloves.

"There we go."

She breathed deep as she neared the hatch, and closed her eyes.

"Force be with me.... let's do this."

Then she hit it. Air whooshed out, suit sealing for a thirty minute reserve of o2. A mod she had put in it. Then she stepped down the ramp, mag boots doing their job and holding her fast to the hull. A few more minutes found her walking into the underside launching bay of the massive destroyer, and then taking a side access hatch, opening the lock with a subtle gesture of her palm.

The force was her ally today and it slid open.

Now within the walls of the vessel, and hopefully not encountering any techs she roved, moving on-wards.

Got to find a terminal.

These halls weren't exactly a secret, but you couldn't exactly fit a whole squad of stormies in here either. Bout one abreast, as they were made for fixing circuits and other odds and ends in the massive vessel.

Which gave her a distinct advantage....

Sol Stazi · Aug 9, 2018

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TM2YqbsEzp0[/youtube]

At the last moment of his charge, Sol shifted to one side of the lone Graug threatening to betray his fireteam's position. Neatly passing his rapier underneath his foe's reach, the duros almost made it through unscathed. Enraged by the deep gash now spilling life sustaining ichor, the creature cuffed Captain Stazi across his upper back as he sailed by. Driven off his feet by such natural strength, he slid across the warehouse rooftop and nearly toppled over its side.

Quick to recover, for he knew that his life may very well depend upon such reflexes, Sol leapt back up into a crouched position. Glancing past the Graug who was already preparing for another charge, the duros twirled his right index finger several times counter-clockwise. The albino reptilian charged again, and at the same moment the duros soldier slammed his right fist into an open palm. Having carefully maneuvered into a semi-circle all around their quarry, each member of his fireteam drew their own Adjudicators and unloaded on the Graug drone.

Such small caliber projectiles weren't capable of doing much more damage than when Sol had attempted it, but the combined annoyance of their constant stinging succeeded in their true goal, which was to distract the Graug and thus, break his charge. Flailing its arms back and forth in wild useless swipes, as if each silenced slug was like an insect's sting, the Graug began to stumble backwards, off balance. Stazi saw his moment, and seized upon it.

Leaping out of his crouch like a wild animal in his own right, the captain charged at their off balance intruder and body checked the creature, sending it sailing over the edge of the warehouse rooftop and down to an abrupt end below. Sol nearly tumbled over right after, clutching tightly against the rooftop's edge with his lower half dangling off the side in plain view, before his squadmates quickly yanked him back up and over to safety.

"Well if they don't already know we're here by now," he muttered, as much to himself as to his fireteam, "They'll work it out when a patrol finds that body."

"Your orders, sir?"

"Panaka, Hundred Eyes," Sol jabbed his finger first at a Nabooian and Harch, "You're on lookout. Flaps, get out your grid map. You spot, I'll call them in. Give me landing zones, anti-air, armor, and key personnel."

"Sir!" the Sullustan immediately produced a gridded map of the Metrobig City outskirts, identical to the one Major [member="Lyra Sunfell"] would be looking at on holodisplay back at the, "Ready, sir!"

"Breaking com silence," Captain Stazi warned the others, "Overwatch, this is Dusk Actual. Come in Overwatch. We have eyes on, no word yet from Woosk's team but we can't stay here long. I've got targets for you, I hope to feth you've got that arty ready for me."

"Captain! You should see this!" Panaka shouted.

"Little busy right now," Sol called out to her over his shoulder.

"Captain, look!"

He finally looked up from the grid he and Flaps were pouring over, in time to see hundreds of tiny forms spill out of Alliance U-Wings sailing by overhead just outside the city's shields. Once each soldier in freefall came within a few kilometers of the surface, automated bursts from their anti-grav chutes began to arrest their descent. Reinforcements had finally arrived.

"Now's as good a time as any, Overwatch," Sol shouted into his comms over the noise of the passing U-Wings, shaking Flaps back into awareness, "Calling in a fire mission! Peth-qek-zero-nine-eight-zero-three eight degrees, two hundred meters! Light these sleemos up!"

Republic Engineering · Aug 9, 2018

Location: Refugee Camp.
Objective: Defend the Innocent - Disarm the Assailant.
Allies: The Squibs of Skor II, The Outer Rim Coalition; [member="Joza Perl"], [member="Orvo Lekarz"].
Enemies: The First Order; [member="Leah Kaban"].

This was the first time I ever heard my chosen vocation used as a venomous insult, and I found myself at a loss in how to respond. While the words weren’t correctly thrown at the feet of a Jedi, they impacted me all the same. She must’ve hated our kind, and considering the heinous acts my wayward brethren have committed in the quest for peace, I couldn’t say that I blamed her. If I were in her shoes, I’d probably hate me too. There have been so many radical Jedi as of late, and with many of them within the New Jedi Order turning their coats and revealing themselves to be Sith? My kindred and I had and have a lot of work to do in order to restore our good name amongst the sentient lifeforms populating the galaxy. So, when that curse spat from the curvature of her lips - I nodded silently and took the insult to heart.

There was no doubt in my mind that she was indoctrinated to believe that we Jedi were the enemy, however, there was a chance that she could’ve been profoundly impacted by one of my kind’s ill-fated deeds; therefore leading me to take it as it was intended. I would allow myself to smile again soon after, though, as the events unfolding before my very eyes were in accordance with my beliefs. Despite what one may believe about the Jedi; we were not pacifists. We relished the facets of peace and pursued it on a daily basis, but when there was no other option after every path had been exhausted; we would take a life in defence of others. We wouldn’t like it and would have to live with our decision for the rest of our lives, but it would prove that we weren’t some apathetic Order of monks. It was our duty to protect, and respect life - not destroy it - so I can often see why we were believed to be pacifists.

If it had come to it; I would’ve broken her arm to forcibly disarm the shawled woman, before apologizing profusely as I tended to her wounds. There was also the chance that I could’ve reached for my symbol, and ignited it’s brilliant sapphire blade to destroy the pistol in her hand - but there was little need for that now. Thankfully, Joza had saved me from such meaningless acts of violence with her quick thinking, and subsequent paralyzation of the armed woman. In the moments that followed her adopting that statuesque pose, I was ordered to take her weapon and search her for more - as well as removing any devices from her person. Allowing my smile to fade slightly, so my deeds weren’t perceived incorrectly, I stepped forward and gently slid the pistol from her grasp -making sure not to shoot myself in the process.

My eyes were drawn to the weapon once it was free from her clawed fingers; scanning its surface and looking for any identifying marks to figure out its model number or possible point of origin. However, after several moments of silence and finding the former - rather than the latter - I began disassembling the weapon. Almost every pistol in the modern era operated on the same principles, but this one was admittedly different to what I was used too and left to me tug at several supposed weak points into order to remove the outer casing. Once removed, I plucked the plasma cell from its housing and tore out a small circuit board near the firing mechanism. The results of which caused the weapon to proverbially sputter and cough as it was drained of power, leaving it as nothing more than a lifeless brick of forged metal.

With a nod, I restored the covering and slipped the weapon back into the shawled woman’s concealed holster - once it was found - and gingerly moved her paralyzed arm to the side.

“As my comrade said,” I began with a thin-lipped smile. “I’ll be searching you for any weapons and devices that are on your person. After that, I will be restraining you. If it’s worth anything to hear this from a Jedi, I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”

Without waiting for an envenomed reply, or a hateful stare, I began patting her down in the attempt to find any weapons that might’ve been stashed on her person. As my hands respectfully travelled across her immobile form, I once again felt the edges of an empty holster beneath her shawl and the device that was lashed to her forearm. There were more devices that I found concealed within her belt - although the only one that I concerned myself with was the communicator; or at least the closest thing that looked like a communicator. The First Order was known for altering the aesthetics of certain, conventional devices, in order to bypass the most common of visual inspections.

When the search came to an end, I pushed back the covering on her arm to reveal the attached device beneath. It was a mobile computer of some sort and undoubtedly held many secrets within its metallic embrace. Running my fingers along the machine-stamped edges, I found several clasps that undoubtedly held the device in place. With a flick of flesh and bone, they came free and allowed the mounted device to land in my grasp thereafter. There was a part of me that wanted to let the object crash and clatter to the ground beneath us, but such an act was entirely petty and ill-suited to my character.

So, instead, I affixed it to the belt of my beryl-hued flight suit and left it to hang lifelessly from my waist; opposite from my dangling lightsabre.

With the search revealing little more than the basics, I took a pair of tie-zips from my flight vest and gently guided the woman’s arms behind her person. When they were within reach of one another, I slipped her hands through the twinned pairing of the plastic cords and tightened them. Knowing how painful it would be if they were pulled taut against the flesh, I elected to go another route instead - leaving them partially loose - but without the room, one would need in order to slip their hands through; especially if they broke their digits to numb the pain of passing. As the deed was done, I stepped back and nodded to Joza - signalling her to release her hold on the shawled woman.

“Since you’re going to be with us for a while, would you care for some tea?”

Progflaw99 · Aug 9, 2018

Location: City Outskirts, Half Constructed Casino

Objective: ~~Enforce Curfew, Occupation~~ | Regret Breakfast

Allies: The First Order | [member="Sogash"]

Enemies: Outer Rim Coalition | Curfew Dodgers | [member="Koda Fett"]

Equipment: DLT-19D Heavy Blaster Rifle | Mini-Grenades | Smoke Grenades | Plated Battle Armor (Partial)

- - -

Durgan cursed himself. Had he taken the initiative to raise his weapon he might have even gotten a shot off at the Mandalorian Hunter above him. How snide they always were in their fancy Beskar. In tuth, Durgan wasn't sure if he disliked them for their snideness, or if he was just jealous of their armor - neither particularly mattered at this moment. Instead, the bounty hunter's features drooped as he watched in surprise as the small device began to fall. *Oh feth.*

Durgan knew all too well what was about to happen, perhaps the most frustrating thing about it was there was nothing he could do. In the moments leading up to the detonation of the sonic grenade, a strange concoction of thoughts poured through the hunter's mind. *Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy... Caught in a landslide... Escape from realitEEEEEEEEE*

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*

The sound pierced the air, his feet only having moved him several feet away from where the device detonated. Overwhelming pain threatened to shatter his skull, his hands letting go of the blaster rifle and rising to his ears. The rifle hung loosely on its sling as Durgan struggled to gain reprieve from the oppressive screech threatening to overcome him. *I don't feel too good...* he thought, a momentary wave of nausea washing over him. Frantically he reached for a machine with a large golden bowl - a repository for won credits he supposed.

"Bluuuuueuuuuuughh"

*There goes this morning's Nerf Nuggets.* he thoughts wistfully as he emptied the contents of his stomach. *That's a jackpot.* Another unbidden thought snuck out as he propped himself against the machine. Now he was angry, that wasn't fair - wasn't there a code of honor among bounty hunters? Pshhh. Who was he kidding. Of course there wasn't.

Progflaw99 · Aug 9, 2018

Location: 1-2 Miles (1.6 - 3.2 km ) outside of Metrobig City | Survey Site Tagge

Objective: Survey and Clear Survey Site Tagge in Preparation for Pre-fab Deployment

Allies: The First Order | [member="Decima Fortan"] | [member="Racosidae"] | [member="Rhun Trask"]

-

Fate had decided to play a cruel joke on the Auxiliary Sergeant just then. It wasn't when his feet crunched the dry earth beneath his boots as he approached the gaping maw of the Graug warehouse, it wasn't even as he crossed the threshold and come face to face with one of the creatures. No, it had been the moment his barrel was guts deep in the beast, weapon discharging, specks of blood smattering across his face - that was the moment he heard the crack above his head.

Barely enough time to look up, Castiel caught the sight of splintered boards and what looked to be... a person? He didn't have time to confirm before the broken pieces of the roof caved in upon the Auxiliary Sergeant and now the looming meatshield that had been the Graug. The first impact was heavy but not overwhelming, knocking the soldier to his feet - what followed was much heavier, knocking the wind from his lungs and all but concealing the man beneath the fallen body of the Graug. Stunned, Castiel lay there, struggling to breath beneath the combined weight of the Graug, the obscured figure, and whatever had landed behind that.

Now inside the warehouse and covered by meat, robot, and being, Castiel was oblivious to the U-wings in the air or the sound of gravchutes as the opposition soldiers descended. No, Castiel's focus was on the pressure upon his body which threatened to strangle him. With a rough shove, he tried to move from beneath the pile or shift it to release a hair of pressure from his embattled lungs.

"Motherkarking..." he uttered with exertion.

Vaudin Miir · Aug 9, 2018

Location: Skor Palace, With the King

Objective: Hear me baby, hold together.

Allies: ORC + AiE [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Dax Fyre"] [member="Mishka Larraq"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Mishel Noren"] [member="Romi Jade"] [member="Darth Metus"] [member="Srina Talon"] @M-3PO [member="Jaius Sovv"]

Enemies: FO [member="Rolf Amsel"] [member="Rexus Wenck"] [member="Tobias Wrynn"] [member="Omari Vyken"] [member="Keira Verd"] [member="Varas Ren"] [member="Primat Ren"] [member="Vestille Thumahra"] [member="Marriskcal Lati"]

He watched the security terminals with his sharp grey eyes. The bunker remained secure, The King remained secure, but his friends, his family...all he could do was watch and hope. Patience had never come hard for him. A life time on one ship or another had made him used to waiting, but waiting around while everyone you actually gave a kark about was waist deep in crap was another animal entirely.

He leaned his big hands on the security station desk as static continued to crackle in his left ear while the Sullustan babbled in his right. He at least had the good fortune to be stuck with a decent person. Sullustans were some of the better people in the galaxy, not nearly as hard to deal with as Humans or Hutts. Which were about the same processors in different casings as far as the Iktotchi could tell. Not that Humans or Hutts were all bad, just almost all, and even the good ones had that same self serving side. Regardless, Jaius wasn't either, and that was refreshing.

"All I've got is static." Vaudin replied calmly despite his unease, another lesson he learned young, keep your Sabaac face on until you were away from the table.

"The bunker walls are probably too thick for comms...but," Should he be honest? "It feels chaotic, I got a knot in my gut that tells me something's off."

He could dig deeper. Go all in on this Force mumbo jumbo and find out for sure, but the truth was the force was terrifying for him. Clairvoyance was hard to control and what you learned could change fifteen minutes later while your busy worrying about the outcome you think you know is coming. He could probably get them to his ship if need be by using some kind of force thing, but the effort would probably kill him and he had gotten a bit too attached to his wife and her cute snarky backside to jump into dying lightly. And the furry blue monarch wasn't a top choice of people to die for, sad to say.

His eyes followed movements of people he recognized and First Order people he had a strong desire to shoot in the face. Dax was in the chit, so was Coren and Julius. Mishka was on the move and so were a few he hadn't had the chance to meet yet. The squibs were following Sovv's commands as best they could but they weren't elite troops and they weren't as indoctrinated in their patriotism as the head cases the First Order mind-raped into service.
Vaudin didn't like it. He wanted to be out there doing something, anything to help the squib avoid being under that oppressive heel and make sure his friends didn't die because some milk sucking elitists couldn't figure out they were unwelcome and unwanted. He rubbed the crease of his palms on the hard edge of the security desk and hung his head for a second as he looked for the spark of the knack in his guts. He wanted it ready. He was getting a bad feeling about this.

"Sovv?" He started, "If we need to get out do you think we can make a route to my ship? Get defenses armed to clear a path or something? I want to have a plan Besh."

Varian Alaric · Aug 9, 2018

Location| Outside Palace, Squib King's Palace
Objective| Coerce/Convince the King
Allies| [member="Varas Ren"] | [member="Marriskcal Lati"] | [member="Rolf Amsel"] | [member="Omari Vyken"] | [member="Keira Verd"] | [member="Vestille Thumahra"] | [member="Rexus Wenck"] | First Order Operatives
Enemies| (Engaging): [member="Kahne Porte"] || [member="Dax Fyre"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Vaudin Mirr"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Jaius Sovv"] | [member="Krenis Skirata"] | ORC Operatives

Equipment| 2x Lightsabers (crimson), Standard Ren Armour (appearance)
Stormtrooper Count|
Seven; All Alive
Varas Ren; three, all Alive
Marr; two, all Alive
Primat; three, all Alive
Status| Determined

Primat stopped suddenly in his tracks once his eyes glazed over the form of a kneeling figure down the hallway. For a half second, he couldn't identify whether the man was part of the First Order or was an ORC ally. So, he reached out through the force. He didn't search actively like he were looking for thoughts or feeling through the force. No, he reached out through the force to try and identify the alignment of this man. Invisible fingertips didn't even have to touch at the man's mind, they had only made it halfway before the man's presence was identified. He was a force sensitive, a lightsider...thus meaning he was part of the ORC effort to defend this world.

And...this man, was a Jedi. He made the connection from the man's force signature to his blue lightsaber.

"Troopers, hug to the walls!" Primat yelled through the voice modulator in his helmet, which made him sound as though he were some voracious predator made of metal. The force told him that was an attack of some sort was coming, though the type of attack it would be was unknown to him, so he warned his reinforcements to hug to the walls. Just encase it was a force-based attack of some sort. Primat watched the three Stormtroopers with him hug the walls, before turning back towards the Jedi. His HUD was alight with information pouring in about his environment, from things such as contingencies, lightsaber maneuvers to use, and just information from his surroundings to help keep himself alive.

However, that information proved fruitless as an invisible wave tossed him backwards, away from the Jedi. Primat felt his body soar through the air, and then all of the sudden...he was lying on his back, coughing as he tried to regain breathe from the sudden jolt of motion his body had been put through. As Primat regained his composure, one of the Stormtroopers fired five shots in quick succession towards the Jedi. Once he had gotten to his feet, Primat glared at the trooper who had fired the shots. "Hold fire, this Jedi...is mine," he spoke the words with fervent venom and primarily to the colonel who had just fired at the Jedi.

In response, the two nearest troopers to Primat retreated further down the hallway, close to Primat. The Colonel however, hugged to the wall...slowly backing away from the Jedi, as he kept his blaster trained on the Jedi's torso.

Primat's gloved and wavy fingers tightened around the handle of his saber, reigniting the saber after his fall. Then, he slowly made his way towards the Jedi, twirling his saber in hand as he approached. With his left hand, he began to channel a cone of the force...readying it for the right moment.

Thaddeus Wyse · Aug 9, 2018

Location: Metrobig City
Objective: Answers Fight.
Allies: TSE|FO [member="Alkor Centaris"]
Enemies: ORC. Anyone standing in his way | [member="Yula Perl"] (Now) | [member="Zef Halo"]

His gauntlet touched the place where the dagger had torn through the armor-weave.

Grimacing Elian pushed himself off the ground to pursue the girl. Then his attention was snatched by the old man stuck against the ground and the Mandalorian who seemed to know him. It seemed that even here the Mandalorians didn't have the resolve to finish a fight they started. Something slammed into his chest, he stumbled back a step and as his visor found Yula some distance away a second object (dial?) crashed against his visor with enough force to cause a piece of it to shatter.

Pieces of sharpened glasteel cut through his cheek and he felt the fire rising up again.

One hazel eye staring balefully at the girl. He started walking towards her. "You got your fight, Mandalorian, stick to it." A third object was flung at him and Elian ducked just before it could hit him in the face again. It scrapped against the upper-side of his helmet and then disappeared behind him.

Fingers curled around the discarded blaster Yula had left behind.

There was no hesitation as Keyes coldly took the shot as he walked, aiming for her knee. The chaos around the bazaar was overwhelming, people running and trying to hide, the Squibs taking up a valiant fight against the incursion.

You'll Sleep When I Say So [First Order Invasion of Outer Rim Coalition [Hex K-53] Skor II]

Keyan Mastigar

Guest

Moff of the Mon Calamari Sector

She Left Behind A Legacy

skin, bone, and arrogance

Administrator

Sin's Child

Grand Admiral, First Order Central Command

ＬＯＳＴ ＳＯＵＬ

Hope is Kindled

Silara Varis

Guest

M E M O R Y

Well-Known Member

-Take me out, to the Black-

Sol Stazi

Guest

Artificial Intelligence

Well-Known Member

Well-Known Member

Planetary President of Iktotch

R A V E N

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