Dominion A Change of Pace | CFA Dominion of Kaikielius Hex

[Ryv]

Objective: Put on a Show! | Red Team
Location: Among the clouds.
Theme: Where Eagles Dare - Iron Maiden
Tags: Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt



Ryv pushed forward on the throttle, seeming entirely unphased as he rocketed towards Loske. He knew before she did how stupid this play was. Fighting an uphill battle lowered the chances of success considerably, unless, those on the climb knew something the rest didn't. His knowledge of fighter to fighter tactics lacked in comparison to the others, as did his skill in the cockpit and familiarity with the skies themselves. He had stupid amounts of bravery in spades, however, which he could work to his favor. The closer the two ships came to one another, the more erratic the small droids chirping and movements became. It looked up at Ryv, beeping furiously at the grinning kiffar.

"Yeah, yeah, I know we're getting close, chief. That's the plan," Ryv's grin widened as he spoke, all while BD-8 began scurrying about erratically, whirring out its disagreements. "I'm not actually gonna ram her; I'm gonna try and bait something out of her and see if I can capitalize—no way in hell I ever outgun Loske when she's on high. Shit, I can't outgun her in general," he reasoned with the droid to the best of his ability, but even Ryv knew how stupid the plan ended up being.

As Loske began zigzagging back and forth, Ryv furrowed his brow.

"Oh dude, I should be shooting shouldn't I," Ryv nearly facepalmed, opting to began taking a series of shots at her instead. Ignoring both the targeting sensor and any semblance of aiming, he just kept racing closer to his mock-foe. "Oh, I know what to do! I'll ram her ship!" he exclaimed and briefly peered at the screeching droid. "Relax, little guy; we're gonna be a-ok. Best I'll probably get outta this is gunned down by Loske, but I bet it'll be hella fun."

Once Loske engaged the barrel-roll maneuver, a move most righteous by textbook standards, he veered towards her ship. The veteran pilot would easily see Ryv had no intention of a head-on collision, looking to clip one of her wings instead and sent it spiraling out of control.

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Kaikielius // Kesipli // City Square
Objective: Mingle & Enjoy the Show!
Interacting With: Mikhail Feyer
Tags: Loske Treicolt Ryv Maynard Treicolt


As the action picks up, the old High Admiral found himself hanging on the edge of his figurative seat - and quite literally hanging onto the balcony railing in anticipation. It had been so long since he'd gotten to simply enjoy a good show. In the field the starfighter engagements he got to watch only brought him worry or grief. Watching his pilots from the bridge, locked in a dance of life and death over the backdrop of the stars. Knowing only one would survive.

The sinking dread that accompanied each loss never faded for him.

But here was different. He could finally enjoy the elegance of the beautiful craft; the split-second maneuvers of the pilots, each one showing insight into their minds, priorities and personalities. They were the same reasons he had always been so passionate when it came to teaching at the Anaxsi War College.

"Truly a bold one," Cassius remarks to the Tetan at his side "but you can still tell there's coordination. It's not all ego."

He draws another sip from his drink, then stirs what little remains gently with a cyclical motion of the glass. "But this Blue Team pilot," he chuckles, eyes glancing to the blonde on the view screen and then back to following her starfighter as it launches into a barrel roll "I have a suspicion the confidence of that boy is going to be in for a bad time."

 

[Bradan Droth]

​

Kaikielius // Kesipli // City Square
Objective: Mingle & Enjoy the Show!
Tags: Cassius Callaesar

The admiral's elbow was resting on the balcony's parapet, arm extended upward. He propped up his chin in the nook between thumb, pointer, and the back of his middle finger, idly tapping the second against his cheek. A wide grin played across his face as he saw the red fighter's manoeuvre.

"Not just a bad time, a week inside a bacta tank for the physical and emotional damage that collision will incur." he spoke with a mix of amusement and concern in his words. There was no expectation of long-lasting harm, but whatever the red was planning fell so far beyond safety regulations that he would be surprised if the lad recognized the letters that composed the word.

"I don't believe they built ejector seats into that junk. Galafighters are notorious for their budget cuts. Ironic considering their namesake."

As admiral of, almost certainly, the largest carrier fleet within the Alliance the Tetan knew the schematics of each fighter in their armoury well. The galafighter had struck him as a design that mirrored the TIE's of the ancient Galactic Empire, something he'd dismissed almost outright when he chose which models to train his pilots with.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

Objective : Put On A Show | Red Team
Post : 5
Focus : Loske Treicolt | Ryv

---

"One down- thank fuck..." Maynard says, surging his starfighter back upwards in a brief climb before reeling back down to an even level to get a half way decent view of the exchange before, narrowing his eyes as he sought out what was hopefully Ryv and Loske in a tight exchange.

"Aaaand there goes one of ours, son-queen." Maynard offered, gritting his teeth before he caught a visual of Loske's fighter barrel rolling to veer out of the way from Ryv's attack path. Instead of moving to bail out Ryv, Maynard seemed satisfied enough to keep Loske occupied with him before soon enough Maynard would pull his fighter down and pitch it to fall back into the main zone of combat. Soon enough his crosshairs would light up red on the starboard side of a passing Blue. Squeezing the trigger he pulled a quick burst of faux-blasters into the hull as it peeled back and over to try and fall in behind Maynard.

"Ah you mother- ...Ryv! I got one fallin' in behind me lets try and swap here you bag this goon and I'll fall in on Loske. Sound like a plan?!" Maynard said, keeping an eye on the reflection of the pane to see the other fighter descend down toward his attack path before Maynard would pull up and climb once more to try and get back and over the boogie and swerve back in the direction of Ryv and Loske's exchange.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective 1: Blue the Red Team out of the sky - Blue Team
Showmen: Ryv // Maynard Treicolt
Commentators: Cassius Callaesar // Mikhail Feyer
Ballroom Blitz​

Her interweaving through steady faux streams from Ryv's weapons stayed any from connecting. Telegraphing his intent wasn't difficult. The Gala Fighters weren't subtle in their movements, and a move that may have been smooth in their Skywalker Class X-Wings was awkward and intense in this exercise. Mid-roll, Loske tightened her grip on the yoke and shoved it so her belly near-scraped against Ryv's ship. The starfighter protested with a shudder, narrowly clipping by the fighter the other Kiffar Padawan was piloting. That shudder turned into a scrape, and she looked at her HUD which was flashing an angry red at her. The move had compromised one of her laser cannons.

"Ugh, of course." She muttered hotly, depressing the pedals to make the ship respond to her intentions to climb upwards. A piece of the canon that had broken off spiralled away from her ship and down through the clouds to the ground below. She'd bypassed Ryv's intent to ram narrowly, sliding the belly of her ship beneath his so the bottom of the ships touched. As soon as she was cleared, she made a startling cut outward, almost 90 degrees. All the while her low-budget vehicle groaned before she arched back around, pointing her nose toward Ryv's starfighter. She was coming around to intercept him again, the loop wide enough to re-engage headlong.

Targeting display turned red: Lock acquired. With her cannons compromised, she thumbed over to the fake torpedo option while closing the distance. When she was only a tens of meters away, she thumbed down on the release to send a projectile to intercept the red pilot.

The projectile would take care of the rest. Despite it not being real, it's ability to adjust its route once fired and locked would be able to compensate for any deviations in course.

While she zipped past him, expecting it to light up in the red colour of defeat, she loosened her seat restraints so she could look back at the other pilot, waved, and blew him a kiss before zipping off to join the fray of her Blue team.

 

[Jegy Sesara]

Kaikielius // Niaok // City Square // Auction House​

The Sullustan would make his way carefully through the crowded staircase like hallway as he entered a rather large room. The cloud of smoke would be more apparent now, it was creeping into the hallway from the main room. Opening the door, there be many long elegated chairs, species of all kinds congregated into the room as people would laugh, cry and scream all at once all around them. Cages suspended above the people, holding species as they all had price tags hovered over on the cage, swirling around. The main stage was old looking, dusty with an elegant curtain yet in the corner seemed to be a newer addition, a DJ booth of some kind as the person would start turning the music to different beats. The Sullustan had to keep his emotions in check in here, he did not want to do something drastic in here. This was an auction house of ill repute and the last thing he would want is to be caught off guard in a place like this. A sudden tap on his shoulder would make the Sullustan turn around, looking up towards a rather tall Chevin had made his presence known, looking like a bodyguard.

"I have not seen you around before Sullustan...what is your name?"
"You may call me Puzzle Moon. Moon for short. I came by hearing this auction house has much to offer."
"That it does...you wishing to sit down here or take a high booth for ten grand?"
"Oh I do love it when I have a view. I will take a high booth."

Pulling out a large credit chit, almost looking ancient as the male Chevins eyes would go wide then nod, escorting the Sullustan up a seperate flight of stairs to one of six large booths that overlooked the entire establishment. Going over to room five, the Chevin would scan a card through as the door would slide open, revealing a rather nice elegant room full of chairs, liquor and of course monitors. The Chevin would pat the Sullustan on the shoulder as he never liked that, turning as the Chevin gave a long grin, pulling up on the main monitor all the things to bid one which ranged from materials to weaponry to slaves.

"When you wish to make your bid, simply type into the console on your chair. You do not need to bid like the others Sir."
"Joyous. Do I get to hold the item in question if I request to make a bid on it?"
"That you do Sir."
"Wonderful. That is all...and if I have slaves, are they hand delivered?"
"But of course. Have a good evening Mr. Moon."

The Chevin would leave as the Sullustan would glance back, the door sliding shut as he would go over to the liquor bar, pouring himself a drink of rum and downing it quickly. He needed to calm down and not make stupid mistakes. He needed the entire upper hand before the night was over. Sitting in the nearby chair whom he considered rather comfortable and heated, he would pull the console and scroll through the list of biddable items as he made note for each one he wanted, planning his night out in earnest.

 

[Ryv]

Objective: Put on a Show! | Red Team
Location: Among the clouds.
Theme: Where Eagles Dare - Iron Maiden
Tags: Maynard Treicolt | Loske Treicolt


Ryv looked up as Loske maneuvered away from his oncoming charge and prepared to fire upon him. He shifted in his seat and took hold of the stick in both hands. As she worked to line up her shot, he struggled to shake her targeting systems but found no success. As her ship's mock torpedo whizzed invisibly through the air, Ryv tilted the stick forward and dove. He raced away from the shot, directing his fighter into a barrel roll of it's own as a last-ditch effort to find some semblance of luck in the air. Unsurprisingly, it collided against his ship and it lit up in response. Ryv had been taken out of the battle with the veteran pilot's strike.

The ship suddenly froze up and its engines cut out. Ryv's eyes widened as he pulled back on the stick in a vain attempt to level the fighter out. When he realized the controls were locked in place he shifted his attention to BD-8.

"Hey, uh, this wasn't part of the competition. What's going on?" Ryv flipped one of the switches before doing the same for another two. "Can you figure out what's happening? I'm thinking we got another few seconds till we hit the ground," he sputtered out each word while once more yanking hard on the stick. As he did so, the small droid quickly set to work. With the ground rapidly approaching, Ryv tugged one last time, just as the starfighter surged back to life. He leveled out and flew parallel to the ground for several hundred feet before veering back in the direction of the landing strip. He gently pat the BD units head before releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Man, that was really close, chief," Ryv laughed loudly as the droid chirped back at him. "Great work, little dude. Definitely would've died without you, so, I owe you one." he lowered the fighter to the strip before cracking open the cockpit and jumping out. He approached one of the nearing engineers and nodded back towards the vessel. "Something malfunctioned there after getting knocked out. Make sure the other fighter's astromechs are aware to prepare for some evasive maneuvers if we don't call it outright."

Ryv pat the stranger's shoulder before moving off towards the fair, with his little BD unit in tow.

 

[Cassius Callaesar]

Kaikielius // Kesipli // City Square
Objective: Mingle & Enjoy the Show!
Interacting With: Mikhail Feyer
Tags: Loske Treicolt Ryv Maynard Treicolt

A beaming smile lights up on the High Admiral's face as the action kicks into full gear. This was where the fun begins.

Cassius couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as the excitement of the fight catches him without the anxiety of real combat. He finds himself stopping his body from naturally leaning along with each expert maneuver, immersing himself in the deadly dance taking place in the skies of Kesipli. The finesse of a starfighter in the hands of a confident pilot was a truly beautiful thing.

His attention follows Ryv's fighter as it dives into a barrel roll. His eyes shift anxiously to the pursuing vessel, fully absorbed in the intensity of the situation. A gasp escapes him as the viewscreens and loud speakers announce that the simulated torpedo had hit successfully.

"Wow!" he older man exclaims, sounding nearly out of breath from holding it "now that was an engagement." Turning away from his company for a moment, the Anaxsi plucks another drink from the tray of a passing servant droid. "These are pilots of Sabre Squadron, correct?" he looks to the Tetan admiral, taking a sip of the champagne "A Jedi flight crew, if I'm not mistaken."

The unexpectedly concerned voice of the event commentator suddenly catches Cassius' attention, "Uh oh, something appears to be going wrong with one of the Red Team's fighters!"

Confused, the High Admiral looks back to the sky, where the Kiffar's Galafighter can still be seen in freefall. His eyes shoot to the spectator screen of the young pilot, watching him desperately attempt to regain control and coordinate with his astromech. "No!" he shouts out from the railing. In an instant his excitement transitions into the familiar dread he had felt countless times before. The grim feeling that came with helplessly watching the final moments of a pilot.

When the starfighter final responds with only seconds to spare the High Admiral lets out a sigh of relief, though his demeanor remains one far more serious than it had been. The complicated emotions brought by years of service were not easy to escape - even in times of celebration.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

// OBJECTIVE // Put On A Show // Red Team
// POST COUNT // 6
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Mikhail Feyer | Cassius Callaesar

---

Maynard managed an evade on the Blue who'd decided to paint the rear of his fighter in his sights, only for that fighter to get picked up down the barrel of another red fighter -- sending a faux volley of game bolts into its fuselage before the craft lit up red to mark it knocked out of the match. In a turn for the worst however, Maynard's unnamed comrade found himself leveling out only to be headed in the direction of Loske newly peeled out of her engagement with Ryv.

With a full pitch of his fighter he'd reared himself back in the direction of Loske and Ryv, only for the plummeting Kiffar to catch his eye. His weary hazel gaze lit up in disbelief, forcing the pilot to flip the visor from over his eyes as if to shred away any non-existent filter he might've had between his eyes and reality.

"Shit-" Maynard let out, clenching his teeth for a moment before he'd surge the thrusters of his vessels forward with a press of his palm against the stick.

"Ryv - the hell is going on man keep a hand on that eject if you can't level back out." Maynard offered in a moment of sagely wisdom from the former outer rim smuggler.

Once he heard the Kiffar back over the comms he rolled his eyes with a sigh of relief before pitching his starfighter down and left to try and angle it toward the aft of Loske's craft -- surging past it as the red fighter served to bait her toward the remaining pair before angling his vessel to paint a target lock on her aft. Thumbing the faux torpedo button he waited for his fighter to line up in a path of pursuit with her's.

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Objective 1: Evasion- Blue Team
Showmen: Maynard Treicolt
Commentators: Cassius Callaesar // Mikhail Feyer // Ryv
Don't want no-one to squeeze me, they might take away my life.​

Loske had two objectives: Fire at the straighter in front of her, and shake the target lock from behind her. Every pilot knew how annoying missiles were.

She temporary shelved the first objective, leaving the Red ships to her teammates — she wouldn’t be particularly useful if she was shot down. That’d make their numbers sorely uneven.

She huffed and kept her speed up, fervently pressing and depressing the pedals to dip, skip and twist to evade the lock from behind. She didn’t have much flexibility with all the factors of velocity. If she wanted to truly evade the missile lock, she’d have to give it something else to latch onto.

“Fine.”

This’d be the second time today she’d get cozy with another straighter. She nosed forward, accelerating rapidly to close the distance between herself and the Red fighter in front of her, only decreasing her speed to match its. The pilot inside was probably stressing and wondering why she hadn’t fired on it. She needed the cover.

The Red pilot above wasn’t a fan. They slammed on their breaks, leaving Loske’s fighter exposed and shooting forward still. Now she had two on her tail. Not ideal. And that warning red suggested a target lock was still going to happen.

Had to give it something else to shoot at.

Picking up acceleration again, she twisted sharply — the Gala MK II groaned in response — and plummeted downward; twirling en route until the target locks above couldn’t distinguish her fighter from the rise and fall of the buildings below. The spectators would start to get a little closer to the show now, the thunderous roar of the oncoming starfighters a good clue to keep their eyes upward.

 

[Ryv]

Without a stake in the game any longer, Ryv turned away from the ongoing show up above. He'd never been to Kaikelius before his negotiations with the world's nobility began. The days of work left him too busy to explore their capital city or meet its inhabitants. With the festival in full swing and hours ahead of him, the kiffar introduced himself to the world. His adventure led him up and down dozens of streets, showcasing hundreds of different products. The artisans of the world left little to be imagined, peddling their works with an infectious passion that had the young Jedi celebrating right alongside them. With a fair amount of credits saved up from his work with Ryveting Content, he went ahead and purchased a few odds and ends. Mostly just nick-nacks to remind him of the time he spent helping make such an alliance happen.

Taking a seat to enjoy a meal, Ryv found himself swarmed by a group of teenagers and young adults soon enough. A barrage of questions about his time as a Jedi or work as a model assailed him. Rather than fight them off, he took the opportunity to enlighten the group to some of his adventures. The group grew in size, listening to his experiences many of them surprised to hear all he'd done in his short lifetime. When they all eventually disbanded to other activities, Ryv returned to his now cold meal with a smile on his face. Living each day, the way he did left him forgetful of how lucky he was. Not many could claim the title of Jedi, which made him a bonafide hero to the masses.

From nearby, the sound of music trickled along the square. Some stood up and dance, while others hummed along and enjoyed the sounds of the festival. Ryv joined them, moving closer to watch the show.

 

[Maynard Treicolt]

​

// OBJECTIVE // Put On A Show // Red Team
// POST COUNT // 6
// FOCUS // Loske Treicolt | Ryv | Mikhail Feyer | Cassius Callaesar

---

Maynard was still fixated on the aft of Loske's starship when she pulled her maneuver with the other red team fighter, only ending up with the fighter at Maynard's flank. Flicking his wrist with his middle and index finger out he motioned the other fighter to break off as soon as they traded glances. Treicolt could sense well by now that Loske was at the end of his sights. He had the lock on her for the faintest of moments before she took a sharp descent down into the skyline around the arena.

The targeting system onboard was frantic and unreliable now as the sights danced between buildings, landing on Loske's Gala far too briefly to squeeze the trigger as he followed in close pursuit, masking her maneuvers as he clenched his teeth tightly, eventually flicking the targeting systems off he relied purely on dumb sights, sheer luck and what little he could from the force now. Isolating all his senses his ears seemed to deafen and his vision fade before soon enough he shut his eyes to feel out with the force, the buildings fading to merely the blank surfaces to avoid with his starship as it enveloped the shape of the Gala II before soon enough he squeezed his thumb against the faux missile control, giving his best attempt to guide it into Loske's ship with meager force guidance.