Atrocious - TRA Dominion of Hex AH-9

[Ras Val'kor]

"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."​

-H.P. Lovecraft​

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Silence occupied space like an unspoken neighbor, so close yet distant from all the stars and inner systems. In that silence, though, a tragedy occurred. One unheard of, yet to be discovered or understood. Out there among a pocket of emptiness and abyss, a hapless many struggled to bolster themselves against a nightmare incarnate. Screams became hoarse and eventually mute, every immediate sign of life becoming more and more scarce. Every child asking their mother or father if everything was going to be OK.​

Nobody knew.​

The ones that managed to hide could only listen to everyone else die. Sounds that no person should be able to make... and their faces, their bodies were incomprehensible. How does this kind of thing exist? Why? ​

Soon after the initial shock, a hush fell over the Rebel vessel. Some of the crew attempted coming out of hiding to chance upon the idea of using an escape pod, but to no avail. They were intercepted by what could only be assumed to be infected crew, but it was so hard to tell.​

Their skin... their proportions were twisted, bulbous yet rotted with a sickly sweet aroma emanating from their bodies. The things they did to the unfortunate... such a fate should never be wished upon any living creature. So many were terrified to be lost in the dark of the ship, but it was so much worse to be found. ​

After 24 hours, the vessel was totally consumed from within. Bodies fused together into pylons that arched along walls and corridors. Still alive but nothing more in physical form than screaming biomass, these individuals would spread the disease further, feeding nutrients and being digested by the ever-expanding flesh. Sensual groaning and screams then began resonating through every hall and lobby, as the flesh itself writhed and along with it the new inhabitants of the Rebel ship. A surge of euphoria and pleasure over all, their limbs and bodies convulsing and breaking to fit a new form. A new way of living.​

But from the ship's helm, a distress beacon was readied and sent. Perhaps someone was still alive after the outbreak and needed a way out. Maybe hope could still survive.​

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

- 12 Hours Later -​

//ATTN: INCOMING DISTRESS. . .
//CNFRM: OPENING MESSAGE. . .
[AUDIO ACTIVE]
H-hel....
NO!
[TRANSMISSION DISRUPTED, FILE CORRUPT]
//MAP: SET COORDINATES AH-9 AS LAST KNOWN LOCATION. . .
//CNFRM: SET COORDINATES. . .
[LAUNCH]

Arriving on a Corvette to respond to the distress call, Ras opened the comms to reach out to the dark vessel. No apparent activity could be seen or detected.​

​

"This is Ras Val'Kor of the Rebel Alliance, please respond."​

​

Silence.​

"I request again, please respond. This is Ras Val'Kor of the Rebel Alliance, if you do not respond within the next five minutes I will be obligated to request assistance in boarding your vessel."​

- Five Minutes Later -​

"Karking... really?"​

"Fine."​

Ras didn't understand what he was getting himself into. What he was about to put the whole of The Rebel Alliance through. ​

The unknown awaited inside of that vessel, things that most men couldn't understand.​

There was only death.​

 

[Placeholder 0128]

Things had been quiet since the attack on Coruscant.

Communication with the core had become spotty at best. The rebels only found out about what was going on by coincidence's sake alone, and they were powerless to prevent it. The Sith had sent their fleets to the core, and now the core was burning. The alliance could only sit and bide its time; watch from afar as their fleets were readied, their armies trained. They would have their chance to strike back against the Sith, but that time had not yet come. There were other matters that needed attending to.

Thus it was that Cedric Grayson and his padawan, [member="Cenric Marus"], found themselves aboard one of the alliance's patrol corvette's. They were flying through a mostly uninhabited region of space, but one also reach in massive mineral deposits among renegade asteroids. These deposits were fueling the alliance war effort, and one of the valuable cargo ships had gone missing. It was only natural that the alliance respond to its disappearance immediately.

Unmasked, Cedric sat in a chair at the opposite end of the bridge. He listened quietly as Ras raised the lost vessel, and found his brow furrowing when it did not reply. Something was wrong here.

"I suppose that means we're going to have to pay them a visit in person then. I hope they cleaned up the place."

[member="Ras Val'kor"]

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt opened his eyes with a faint grogginess, rubbing small crusts from his eyelids before glancing around. He’d fallen asleep in the ships mess hall, and everyone had decided it was best to leave him where he was, to his dismay. Scratching at the auburn curls adorning his head, he glanced around before standing, wiping what he could only imagine was now hour old mashed potatoes from his face before walking towards the hallways that lined the edge of the vessel.

Walking towards the elevators, he noticed a group of men whispering among themselves as they stared out a porthole, idly murmuring about some derelict vessel across the abyss from them. It's what they were briefed about before, but now that it was within sight the ship seemed to pull on his senses in a negative way. Whatever reason for the ship’s silence, he could already tell it was best to let it lie in its current state for the rest of eternity.

Gritting his teeth slightly, Wyatt moved past the group and found the bridge. Pressing the button for the bridge, he spent several minutes watching as others got on and off at their various floors before him and a handful of officers walked into the bridge to their respective positions; he himself finding his way towards [member="Cedric Grayson"].

“Cedric, a pleasure.”, he said, offering a hand to him in greeting.

“My name is Wyatt Morga, one of the Jedi aboard the vessel. I’ve come for the briefing, as requested.”

It was only then his voice lowered a bit, to make sure he wasn’t heard by the various groups around them; an almost fear laden whisper as he stood slightly closer.

“Are you sure its a good idea to do this? You sense that, don’t you?”

Blue eyes glanced to one of the officers before going back to Cedric;

“Its death. Foreboding death at that.”

[member="Cedric Grayson"] │ [member="Ras Val'kor"]

 

[Leo]

With one massive arm over the back of her seat, Leo approached the site of the distress beacon in her Bulwark-class Freighter, carrying about a dozen or so of her Horde renegades. While she didn't think too highly of the Rebel Alliance, considering it just as weak as the Galactic Alliance was, they were still on the same side, and as such, the Renegade Horde would extend a helping hand. Rebels had been thinned and scattered ever since the assault on the core; she didn't have the luxury of being picky.

Her younger sister, Veriss, had accompanied her on this mission, which had almost become the norm over the past decade. She was sharpening her axes on one of the seats in the cockpit while Leo piloted, occasionally breaking out into songs about battles that were long behind them. A blonde renegade sat across from Veriss, named Feather. She was cute, but she had a head full of rocks and practically no meat on her bones. What she lacked in smarts and strength, she made up for with the aim of her pistol and her willingness to be a renegade.

"I don't think this is a mission that should be rushed," Leo told the two as they neared the completely silent ship. "Not while we're with the Alliance, anyway. These people are like the rest, sticks in the mud. Tell the others to take it easy and 'play nice.'" She nearly shuddered at her own words, but they were necessary all the same. Besides, even if they were playing nice, that didn't mean they had to be nice, just that they couldn't start fights with the soft allies.

"You got it, boss," Veriss said with a sigh, picking herself up and making her way out of the cockpit.

"This is Leo," she said into her comm, hailing the rebel corvette beside them, "Horde Boss of the Renegade Horde and probably the better leader. Requesting permission to dock so we can babysit you through the scary ship."

---

[member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"]

 

[Ari Vox]

The fire had overwhelmed her, superheated the core of her body till her skin was scalding and her skin was boiling, while darkness softly straddled her, encompassed her mass and cradled her softly. It was akin to the touch of a dying mother, a touch Ari could not recall with anything but a metaphysical understanding and one she wished not to recall at all. It was the welcoming of death itself, the ushering of the great silence and the path to Manda wrapped inside a cool embrace that felt like calm and tasted like sulfur.

She awoke with a start, sweat cooling in the recycled air and the sheets damp with the stuff. Her eyes were wide, wild and harried, the effects of the dream lingering all of a fraction of a second as the sights of her claustrophobic quarters affirmed she was very much alive. Very much herself.

Hazy recollections of the dream were the best she could muster, a shakey coupling of images that depicted a growing darkness and her inability to stop it. The fear that had gripped her found no foothold here in reality and she began to dress in the near darkness of her silent chamber. Outside, in the hall of the Corvette, the crew were meandering and manoeuvring, their duties dictating their paces and their bearings with officers seeming diligent and purposeful and grunts simply running through a checklist of to-dos.

Somewhere in the middle was Ari, separated widely by a gap in professionalism as she bunched up her hair and made her way through the snaking corridors. No real uniform just her hermetically sealed under-layer beneath a pair of joggers and a sweater, the simplicity of it giving off an aura of 'Do not bother me' that dissuaded low-ranking officers and crusty old veterans alike.

With time she'd made it to the main lift, boarded with a pair of brass fly-boys and a couple scrappy looking hard-cases, all of which followed she followed straight up to the bridge. There were no questions at her arrival, most on the bridge had at least a passing knowledge of the Mandalorian mercenary, and Rawlins himself was nearby assisting where he could. Her armour as well was not far away.

Ras was at the helm, Cedric a ways back and a relatively fresh-faced looking bloke speaking at his side. What were the lines on his face? The outline of a fork? Ari shook her head, made a perch before one of the brightly illuminated control desks and generally kept out of the way of the crew that bustled around. Hazel eyes surveyed the sight before the entire crew, a silent and yet oppressive looking ship that harkened to spooky tales that crewmen liked to share amongst themselves.

Ari had never been one for tall-tales.

[member="Ras Val'Kor"], [member="Cedric Grayson"], [member="Wyatt Morga"], [member="Leo"]

 

[Ras Val'kor]

[member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Leo"]

"Typically, this is where the gun toting lot goes in and dies. We all know that something ain't right with that rusty piss bucket, for its whole crew to be unresponsive is a serious red flag."​

​

Ras turned, talking to Cedric, also catching the introduction of yet another Jedi. ​

​

"Either we breach the bloody thing and scare off whatever decided to instigate the problem, or we sit here throwing karking pebbles at 'er window hoping she lets us in for a proper talk and inspection. Either way, it ain't lookin' quite right. But to keep myself from sounding too redundant, we'll eventually have to see what happened. We can't just abandon all those folks there."​

​

Ras smirked to himself underneath his helmet, putting his back to Cedric.​

​

"Unless you can stomach that - and I mean you two blokes. I know leaving the innocent isn't your first intention. Nor would you dumb it down to your last."​

​

The agent shrugged, letting out a brief sigh. He observed the derelict mass of metal from the helm with a slightly bothered expression, brow furrowed with the weight of the idea of boarding the ominous ship. Every nerve, every fiber told him that this very moment - the very sentiment of leaving the safety of the Corvette bothered even a hardened veteran like himself. ​

​

Without much more hesitation and a sudden dismissal of all current thoughts, Ras nodded lightly to himself and mentally prepared to accept whatever the universe might pitch. ​

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt offered a slight grin, simply shaking his head;

“I’m all for saving who’s on board, don’t get me wrong-”, he said with a vague warmth to his tone.

A pause, and a glance towards its massive metal hulk took what warmth he held and drove it into the ground. It wasn’t often a Jedi sounded cold, but his tone was almost abrasive and startling straight forward;

“I’m just not sure theres anyone left to save…”, he said quietly.

Glancing between Cedric and Ras, he quickly moved to take on what smile he could muster and offered it to them both, a surprisingly hopeful expression that led up to his warmth returning;

“Well, should we get ready to board, gentlemen?”

With that, Wyatt rested a hand on his lightsaber and watched the rest of the bridge move about, studying each of their actions in depth. For a moment, he’d make eye contact with the startling tired expression of [member="Ari Vox"], the odd mercenary being completely unknown to him; but empathy made her stick out. Force or not, it was obvious she didn’t sleep well.

To avoid any issues, he quickly turned away however and waited for Cedric or Ras to speak again, knowing they were the planners; he was simply the do’er.

[member="Ras Val'kor"] │ [member="Leo"] │ [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Cenric Marus]

Cenric once again stood quietly just a few steps behind his master.

There was a neutral expression on his face, lips thin and eyes studying the control panel just ahead of him. He had been quietly trying to learn how to fly a starship on the side, a skill that he thought would come in handy. Doing so wasn't all that easy when Cedric had him running training courses nearly every day, but he thought he was getting the hang of it. Things were progressing slowly with his training, though that was to be expected in the first place.

Lightsaber combat was still the easiest for him, learning the steps, better reading people, it all seemed to flow so easily. The difficulty came with manipulating the force. It had gotten better since their time on Atrisia, even better since the incident with Mariya on the edge of Sith space, but it was still difficult.

Quietly, and more to himself than anything, Cenric still doubted he would ever achieve anything grand with the force.

Oddly enough though he was growing more and more okay with that scenario. He realized that he didn't need the force to be a Jedi, at least not much of it. As long as he leaned into his own talents he didn't need to move mountains with his mind. He just had to do the best he could.

That was why he was here in the first place after all.

 

[Placeholder 0128]

The knight was oddly quiet as his companions spoke. His gaze lingered upon the derelict vessel that spun silently in the void, as if it were some sort of puppet dangling from a broken string. It was only when [member="Wyatt Morga"] came up and introduced himself that Cedric was shaken from his stupor.

"Mister Morga, I saw your name on the crew manifest," he shook the man's hand without hesitation, and parted his lips to express his pleasure at having another Jedi aboard. Morga beat him to it. When he spoke of death upon the horizon, Cedric could only furrow his brow and nod.

"It's unnatural," he spoke loud enough so that his padawan and Morga might hear, but no one else. "A phenomena that I haven't encountered before. The Dark Side has hold of that ship, though in what form I do not know. I expect a Sith plot," he admitted quietly, "They've ignored us long enough, and our mining operations in the area are obvious. I wouldn't be surprised if we find a strike team waiting for us."

The knight never considered that the source of that darkness might not be sentient.

"At any rate, we have a duty to whomever sent that distress signal. If they aren't alive, we at least need to recover the bodies, and the mining ship itself is worth more than its weight in gold. We can't abandon it to the void without sending a team in to assess the situation."

The knight aimed to continue, but a blip on the corvette's radar stole his attentions. It was a foreign vessel, one he recognized as belonging to the Horde, a group of miscreants that had styled themselves similarily to the alliance, though they lacked many of the alliance's moral scruples. He suspected they might have thought of those scruples as shortcomings, given the way their leader spoke through the comms.

Cedric's knee-jerk reaction was offense, and it was a reaction he easily set aside for the sake of diplomacy. He keyed the comm back to [member="Leo"]'s frequency. "Permission granted. I trust you'll do everything in your power not to destroy the ship once we're aboard," came the Jedi Knight's reply. His tone was neutral, his words wholly diplomatic.

It wouldn't do to antagonize the Horde. Not when there were greater threats to deal with.

His gaze shifted to [member="Ari Vox"]. He gave his friend a sympathetic look, "Bring some caf to the shuttle before we depart," he muttered to a nearby ensign, and gestured to Ari with a slight nod. Understanding, the ensign scurried off to brew a fresh pot for the sleep deprived warrior.

"I'd say we're about ready to embark. Only volunteers for this assignment; we don't know what's waiting for us, and if things go wrong, I expect the corvette to leave. I won't order anyone to join me unless they wish to." He turned to [member="Ras Val'kor"]. "The shuttle is spooling up down in the docking bay. If you're feeling up to it, we should get moving."

[member="Cenric Marus"], [member="Ras Val'kor"], [member="Wyatt Morga"], [member="Ari Vox"], [member="Leo"],

 

[Saya Ike]

The transmission started. It was empty for a moment. There was some static, and in the background some clattering was heard. Shortly after that, a person stumbled into view. She was a young female in her late teens, had long black hair that fell past her shoulders, and she was wearing a Rebel Alliance uniform. Or more specifically, that of a disheveled Security uniform. She must have been pretty busy. "Karking hell. Hey, Saya. Sorry about my current state. The chief has been working everyone's ass off. On the positive side, the Retribution is an amazing vessel. Even though it's been a few months, I'm still excited to have been lucky enough to be assigned here." Kaya sighed. "I miss you, Saya. I want to be able to talk to you. Maybe after this mission and I get administrative leave for a few days, we could meet up and talk?" There was shouting in the background. Kaya sighed. "It's the chief again. It sounds like we have some problems. I'll record another message tonight ok? Kaya, out." The message ended. ​

​

Another message. This one's at a later time period. The playback started. Kaya was there. Although something was wrong. She looked in bad shape. Her hair and uniform was dishelved and she carried a heavy blaster pistol. She had a spooked look on her face and she was covered in scrapes and blood. She looked around to make sure she was alone. She whispered hoarsely,"Saya. Something terrible happened. Something's on board this vessel. I could feel it. Saya. You have to listen to me. Whatever you do, do not--" Kaya jumped. There was a blood curdling screech in the distance. "Krif. They're coming. Saya. Do not come looking for me. Do not do it. There is no escape if you do." More screeching. "Dammit. I have to go. I wish we could've had that meeting." The recorded transmission ended. ​

​

The young mercenary sat on the bed in his quarters. He was in his armor, and had finished watching the two recordings for the umpteenth time. They were the two most recent transmissions his sister sent, and she hasn't sent any since. Saya sighed. It was typical of his sister. Every time something happened to her, she would send him a message telling him to not get involved. In the end, he always got involved and she ended up being pissed off at him. If she didn't want Saya to get involved, maybe she shouldn't have sent those messages eh? But this time, she looked like she was in genuine danger. So that was why he signed up to join the others on this mission. It was to find out what exactly happened to his sister.

Saya pulled a slugthrower rifle onto his lap and fiddled with it. It was the M-67A rifle manufactured by Blith-Tech. Aptly named REAR, it was a ridiculously expensive assault rifle which he purchased during his mercenary days. Although he's still a mercenary now of course. Since he preferred stealth, he had the rifle custom painted matte black. He also had the Jaeger Solutions Verpine Hand Cannon which is his most used and trusted weapon. He slid the helmet on, sealed the helmet and activated the hud, and prepared his guns for combat. Afterwards, he left the claustrophobic confines of his quarters and navigated his way to the bridge. Finally arriving, the blast doors opened and he could see a lot of people were there already. Ras was there of course, and so was Cedric. Although there were others he didn't know. Two of the males were a pair of unknown Jedi, and a female mercenary with brown blonde hair. It looked like they just had a short convo, and Saya wanted to know wjat went down. He approached Ras and cleared his throat a bit. "Hello there! Name's Saya Venn. A curious mind wants to know. You got any idea what the kark's happening?"

[member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | @Leo

 

[Saya Ike]

(double posted )

 

[Saya Ike]

(again. triple posted dammit.)​

 

[Ras Val'kor]

[member="Saya Ike"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Leo"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"]

[Chosen Loadout]: SIF-141 - SI-17 - C-11

Looking to [member="Cedric Grayson"], Ras gave a decisive nod. "Let me ready up my gear and I'll start the dispatch. A-" Suddenly approached by another face never seen before until this very moment, the agent shook his head and sighed, seemingly unable to keep up with the numerous individuals present. "Look mate, all I can say is something's wrong with that ship out there. Now if you don't mind, I'm needed elsewhere. Follow if you like, stay and listen in - tell me a story, whatever. Just don't get in my way."​

​

With that Ras began walking towards the docking bay, already donning his armor and protective underlying suit. His face and voice obscured by an oddly designed helmet meant more for tactical use than winning a beauty contest. Four ominous lights built into the visor appeared to almost limit Ras' vision; however, quite the opposite. He was always scanning, mapping and analyzing minute details all around him. Plus he could see perfectly fine.​

​

"Let's get a move on, you lot!"​

​

His heart sank into his stomach, this didn't seem right. What the hell was on that ship that had his skin crawling?​

​

It didn't matter. The mission mattered.​

​

Redemption mattered.​

​

Their lives mattered more.​

​

Deciding to stop by his personal locker on his way to the shuttle, Ras nearly tripped over himself trying to turn his head while simultaneously walking. "Gah, gotta grab the goods." Equipping himself with a newfound toy he found while exploring the black market on Coruscant in his free time. "Mag feeds on the side, forty rounds... meh. You'll carve things up proper, won't you?"​

​

Feeling a bit more at ease with his new weapon as he slung it over his shoulder by a strap, Ras resumed course, arriving at the docking bay. He turned to look over his shoulder for a few seconds, awaiting any other volunteers or brave souls. Deciding now was as good a time as any, the middle-aged soul popped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it up.​

​

"Now the waiting game..."​

​

He mumbled softly to himself, taking a long drag of his health hazard and flicking his ashes carelessly.​

 

[Leo]

As Leo and her small group of renegades came into the corvette, she held her usual proud grin while making her way down the halls, resting her tall hammer against her shoulder. She carried a pistol at her belt, but she much preferred the feel of the hammer. No worrying about what resisted what; it would all cave in on itself with enough force applied to it.

On their way to the shuttles, Leo could see several rebels going the same way, one rebel, in particular, catching her eye.

Widening her arms as if going in for a hug, Leo shouted with her booming voice, "Cedric! My new friend! I knew I would find you here!" She looked behind her and gestured to all of her renegades. "The Horde has come to help you! I even brought a small enough group so that you can still feel important! I like to think I am generous in this way, yes?" Her Halamirian accent was as thick as they came, even if the regional dialect on Halamir wasn't all too different from the average Galactic Standard. It was a refugee planet, after all.

"I hope it's Sith on this mystery ship. I look forward to any Sith-crushing opportunities." She paused for a moment and remembered one of her renegade companions for the mission, Darth Pellax... "The bad Sith, I mean to say."

---

[member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Saya Ike"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Darth Pellax"]

 

[Wyatt Morga]

Wyatt moved with the grace of a hangover stricken ballerina, every sense of jedi elegance oddly betrayed by the fact his foot falls seemed heavy and his gaze was anywhere but in front of him. A hand idly scratched at his stubble as the group moved through the ship, down the elevators, and into the main hangar area of the vessel. Up to this point, most had been silent, but Wyatt moved to break the tension with his own iteration of hope;

“Odd subject, but have you guys ever rode a bantha? Not say everyone should have, just that-”, he was quickly cut off by the booming voice of a female titan just a few dozen meters away.

He visibly cringed as she bounded towards them, threatening to embrace Cedric with the force of a small Coruscanti Repulsor Press. Looking her up and down, a faint twitch in Wyatt’s eye, he couldn’t help but jest;

“Certainly ate your greens, didn’t you?”, his tone seemed to tease.

Glancing to the gunship behind them, and then back, he chimed in once more -

“Maybe we should get going. No idea how long life support will last on the ship, afterall.”

[member="Leo"] │ [member="Ras Val'kor"] │ [member="Saya Ike"] │ [member="Cedric Grayson"] │ [member="Cenric Marus"]

 

[Errreembuhr]

TALUS​

​

Ship: EC15 Scout Corvette with 1 Kinrath-class Dropship attached magnetically​

Equipment: EO-7 Blaster Carbine, EO-1 Blaster Pistol, Concussion Grenades​

Accompaniment: Wyyyschokk-series Super Battle Droids, Tach-series Crew Droids, various others onboard ship​

​

------​

​

With the Coalition no longer a power in the Core, Droid Space having been gobbled up and infringed upon by various powers and groups, the Alliance faltering in the face of combined warfare from the Sith and the First Order, and the rebellions on Hapes and Onderon, Talus had seen quite a bit of combat lately. Errreembuhr had trusted the droid with several tasks at his side, but this was his first solo operation. And it would be necessary to succeed here. These Rebels weren't quite what the Coalition had been in terms of cohesion, or a military superpower like the Alliance, but they fought against the same enemies that his master's overlords had fought against. And the Wookiee wanted to see if they could be allies as well.

To that end, Talus had been tasked with responding to the distress beacon put out by a Rebel ship.

"Sir, we're coming up on the origin point of the distress call," TS-07 said over comms as Talus saw to the preparation of weapons for the team he'd picked to accompany him. "There seem to be other ships in the area. Should I request additional support from Command in the event they are unfriendly?"

Talus thought on it for a moment before replying. "Negative. Drop out of hyperspace out of weapons range, scan them, and keep the hyperdrive ready to jump again at a moment's notice."

"Are you sure? We are dangerously close to Sith space, and I don't think they'd appreciate a scout ship being so near. Especially one assisting Rebels."

If Talus had eyes he'd have rolled them. Perhaps he'd request a new body with spherical photoreceptors so he could actually do it, but that was for later. "Yes I'm sure, 07. With what EODD can produce we don't have the firepower to take on the Sith in a head to head fight in space, so even if we called for backup, we'd be on the receiving end of a very one-sided beatdown. We may be droids but I very much would not like to end up as scrap floating in the void. The Commander would do the same."

The droid wasn't actually sure that Errreembuhr would have. But he was programmed to make quick estimations on a battlefield based on previously acquired data and observations in the field, using that information to formulate a plan, and he was damn good at it. Moreover he'd been the first to see actual open use for the Coalition at his maker's side, tasked with commanding troops in the field, and had never once been given a memory wipe. While that last was something he shared in common with his fellows, Errreembuhr had made adjustments to his programming to allow for even further individuality. Something that had saved lives in combat.

Well. Not lives, in the organic sense. But other droids.

Talus' EC15 came out of hyperspace at a solid distance as he stepped into the bridge, the sight of the ship in distress amidst several others further ahead. The droid stepped up to the communications panel, activating the channel to the preparation bay. "Yellow Squad, begin exiting the ship and loading the dropship."

After that message, he switched to the Rebel channel, or at least one that it appeared they were using after scans confirmed that they were in fact not hostiles. "This is Talus of the EODD Security craft Bandit, responding to a Rebel distress signal. We are here to help, requesting permission to approach your corvette and board."

With the message sent, he patched the channel through to his personal communications unit, heading out now to the ventral docking bay. The Kinrath-class Dropship had been magnetized to the hull, one of its primary features, and something that could be taken full advantage of by droids who were fully capable of actions in exposed space. With a short walk along the hull he entered through the rear loading ramp, joining the nine others. Eight of his fellow WS droids and one Tach-series crew droid, along with an E-SM in case there would be a need for some fiddling with electronics or repairs. After closing the ramp the ship demagnetized, beginning its course towards the, at least for now, friendly ship.

He didn't know what they would be facing here, but he didn't need to. He was programmed to overcome it regardless.



[member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Saya Ike"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Darth Pellax"] | [member="Leo"]

 

[C-02]

C-02. It had been lost, till it had been found some time ago by it's new companion, @Leo. A companion it did not very much like, but a companion nonetheless. The droid had been activated after having been lost in space somewhere, where it did not recall. It had no debt to the one that had 'rescued' it. Only that it knew that the Renegade had things, a place to lay low. And besides, they could have uses for it. For now, it took on the guise of an armored human mercenary, but with only a simple blaster pistol. C-02, it was not so great with weapons. Rather used to developing tactics and mind games from afar.

The 'mercenary' stuck with the Renegade group, trying to look as human like as possible. Even it's voice. "If it were Sith, could be troublesome" it piped up quietly behind Leo. Without the holographic disguise, one would have seen his receptors blink.

@Errreembuhr @Wyatt Morga [member="Ras Val'kor"] [member="Saya Ike"] [member="Cedric Grayson"] [member="Cenric Marus"][member="Ari Vox"]

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: None
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: Null Generator
Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace

In that infernal setting, where life had been sapped, stripped and shaped. Where the incomprehensible had become comprehended by the fabric folds of reality. Where flesh had become warped, twisted, bloated and every twisted sense of disease rithed in reality, the vengeful and beaten moaning of the damned a harrowing tale throughout the corridors as a foreboding notion of the threat of being caught. But amongst it all, amongst where sanity lied caught, snatched, beaten and bent a man sat in pristine health, a fettered and tattered white Lab Coat adorning metallic plates. Where a pen subdued in grisly paste pressed ink into fresh pieces of parchment. Here lied some Doctor's mercenary, a man hardened to the bends of reality and so morally devoid that this almost felt like a playdate. Around him and beneath his feet a single pylon stretched and oozed, if one looked long enough, they might see the grisly remains of a face torn and stretched out as if someone pulled the Stretch feature of Photoshop into reality and added sound effects. This is a den of disease that married horror and together gave birth to some abomination.

His foot pressed down on the pylon that slithered beneath his feet, a single tiny tendril clutching and snapping around his foot, a quick shake of the leg, a scolding and a return to form as he took the captains seat, twisting around as three corpses laid around, festering. The disease hadn't caught them, no but outside the door, where lengths of writhed skin moved they pressed and banged against, the scent of living tissue drawing through the cloud of sickly sweat pus that oozed from fresh wounds. The corpses weren't victims of his own gunshot, for once he stumbled upon their corpses, bullets freshly tapering their skull's and cranium as a pile of stale blood rolled out. They were what one might call cowards. Nice people, he was sure. But cowards nonetheless.

He sighed as the banging grew almost judgmental, pinning inflexions to the moans and screams of those whose mouths still functioned, he banged a hand against the door once, twice, thrice and more as he yelled at them. "Oi, ya slimy buggers. I'll give ya's the corpses in a second, I just..." He paused, looking down, the pen pressed against his gas mask as he turned around, the gears of the door waining and turning as weight pressed against it, the bubbling ooze slowly shifting against it, "Just... gotta find a three letter word for organic..." He said, pacing back and forth as the blight shifted inwards, he rolled his eyes. This was one of the few places he didn't need to worry about them and gave him a few hours of sleep.

He watched as the doors wained and a slithering mass slowly overwhelmed, he caught a horrid glance, a brow raised as he caught how fast they had spread. He had been here fotwenty-fourur hours, in that time frame, he had a chance to sleep for a couple hours and the rest was hopping around like some bunny on crack, avoiding writhing worms of flesh, gnashing maws of putrified teeth and hurdling over bile spitting monstrosities, he pulled his comms, darting over the Captain's chari and catching his Yellow Duffel Bag, tosssed over a shoulder as he tossed the unfinished crossword towards one of the limp corpses, soon to be engorged in a writhing mass of what he ony assumed to be bloated dead flesh. He saluted the soon to be feasting flesh as he ran a wall, mounting with a few steps and catching himself on a vent, he was finding travel through the event's becoming his modus operendi whenever he seemed to hop on a ship, and so few of the strains had managed to infect that level. And those that did, he had learnt fire was a great way to deal with them, and Lightsabers, in the end, really just boiled down to really long fire sticks.

So he darted, a few feet, a rock caught from his bag and tossed down the length, the squabbling of the more mobile following the noise to make chase to their quarry. He pulled up the vent cage, his wrists igniting into two blades of red as he sautered them back into place, pulling out a camera and recording the events. He coughed a couple times, his natural granite pitch echoing softly in the quite catacombs that were the vents. "Hour..." He paused pulling up his wrist and pretending to read the time from a freckle and a hair, "Twenty Four. So far, I have recorded that the... The..." He slapped his gas mask, a crinkling of his communicator corrupting his voice as he spoke, "Disease, has shown to be highly infectious. Any contact in a physical state seems to affect the host within a range of two to three hours. Some of the mobiles has shown the capacity to spit a bile-like substance. Infection. One Hundred Percent." He paused, pulling the camera off the view, the horrors of flesh mounting corpses gone as it was now nothing more than bulbous sacks suckling on a sack of nutrients. "Skin contact? Rash, itchiness, common symptoms, which become scar tissue and then finally five hours after infection, death than reanimation." He paused, his gas mask hiding his self-thought before looking back at the camera, in the vents something crawled, a horrid mass of flesh twisting and writhing, propelled by long strands of tentacles that mashed and gnawed at the walls. Thraxis simply sighing, not paying attention to the slow-moving creature behind him. "Sorta like Rak-Ghoul plague. Only longer. Or shorter. I won't lie, I'm not sure what the Rak's are." He paused, pulling the camera to see behind him as it moved and slid. "Infection through water also seems possible. Gave a survivor a contaminated bottle, skipped the skin part and took three hours. But, one good thing about all this." He chuckled, the camera catching as it wrapped a coil around his leg, armour coating his entire body as he let loose a sigh. "Super sensitive to heat." And like that, it snapped, his boot's a cacophony of shades, red, through blue, blue to yellow, yellow to white and a mixed order as different heats propelled him forward, the sound of seared flesh bubbling and popping behind him, it's agonized moans now given thought and reason as a black mass made sickled sounds against the metallic container, shifting, forming, rolling.

Dead.
-------------------------
[member="Ras Val'kor"] | [member="Cedric Grayson"] | [member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Leo"] | [member="Ari Vox"] | [member="Cenric Marus"]
[member="Saya Ike"]| [member="Errreembuhr"] | [member="C-02"]

 

[Ari Vox]

The caf had brought her a semblance of peace and she cradled it in between her hands, letting the warmth seep through her gloves and the steam rise up into her tired face. More bodies had arrived and the bridge was feeling cramped, even to the Mando who was standing off to the side, flanked by the ensign who had brought her the thermos of caf for her adventure. She'd exchanged no words with the man, nor anyone else around her, for the gift of caf her eyes made expressive dances that journeyed from the uniform clad rebel to his master and her employer. Watching the darkened ship across the void had done much to further unsettle her as a thought crept at the corners of her consciousness:

The ship had brought her the nightmares.

Batting it away made the delirious fact of it no less unnerving, she felt loathe to do anything about it, her experiences with things that she couldn't quite grasp had grown exponentially in the time she'd spent employed to [member="Cedric Grayson"] and this felt like a journey into a root cause of madness.

The caf brought heat to the core of her body, a tendril of warmth that ran down from her mouth and straight to her belly and gave her a clarity of mind that brought reasoning back to the forefront. A hundred thousand credits a month was nothing to scoff at, and the cause that the Jedi had brought her aboard for was innately good and just, if that wasn't enough reason for her to accompany them in their boarding of the spooky ship then nothing ever would be.

Without acknowledging the others the mercenary departed the bridge with her droid companion Rawlins, who guided her to a small storage area that he had brought her armour to. It was here she prepared for battle, strapping bits and pieces of her Mandalorian Steel to her limbs and torso, the caf going down now in mighty, heaving gulps before finally fitting the T-Visor helmet to her head with a satisfying click and hiss. The majority of her armoury had been left aboard her ship, the only weapons here now were here Jackal ACR and the Centurion Mk. 1, an ageing carbine blaster that she heaved up and affixed her two-point sling to. At her right hip was her heavy blaster pistol, and her wrists were adorned with both her vambrace and a wrist bolter, while her calf held her trusty Nadir Combat Knife.

In the moments that she afforded herself to check her equipment, she ran through the checklist that was embedded within her mind. Carbine loaded, check. Pistols loaded, check. Suit optimal, check. DRDS, check. She observed every piece of equipment for any slight damage and found none, her maintenance as impeccable as ever, and departed from the small room with a careful good-bye to her trusted droid companion, before venturing off down the hall behind her comrades.

Somewhere near the hangar she had caught up to them, just in time to catch sight of a massive brute of a woman attempting to crush Cedric in the span of her arms. It would have been off-settling had the woman not proclaimed herself and her fellows so loudly in the tight confines of the area, her booming voice echoing down the corridors and across the hangar floor as the two rebel forces met there.

[member="Thraxis"], [member="C-02"], [member="Errreembuhr"], [member="Wyatt Morga"], [member="Leo"], [member="Ras Val'Kor"], [member="Saya Ike"], [member="Cenric Marus"], [member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

[Saya Ike]

Well kriff. Now it looks like he annoyed his boss. Oh well. His loss. Saya wasn't here to make friends anyway. All he needed to worry about was finding his sister and shooting anything unfriendly that moved. While Ras had left the bridge going towards the docking bay, Saya looked out the viewport at the battlecruiser that was parked in the middle of nowhere. After listening to that last transmission from his sister Kaya, the battlecruiser bothered him. He even felt goosebumps under the armor he wore. Saya shivered. He needed to find out what the hell happened there. And if it's neccessary, blow the cruiser sky high. Legal problems and costs be damned.

Saya put a hand on the grip of his rifle and put his finger on the trigger. He needed to kill something right now. The mercenary left the bridge and made his way to the docking bay where the shuttle waited to take the group into the unknown. He stared ahead of him, making sure not to look out the windows and walked around rebel soldiers who were running around at high alert completing their tasks at the last minute. Some soldiers made their way to the docking bay as well. After a few minutes of walking and taking elevators, he arrived at the entrance of the docking bay, he saw several people there. One of which was [member="Ras Val'kor"] and he was smoking a cigarra of course, another one was [member="Cedric Grayson"], and there was even a female Kiffar who stood at wopping 6 foot 5. Hell, she was taller than everyone else! And it looked like she was trying to start up a conversation with Cedric. Oh well.

Saya strolled last the group with a hand clutching the grip of the assault rifle in front of him, and made his way to the gunship. He stood by the entrance of the vehicle and started the waiting game.

[member="Wyatt Morga"] | [member="Leo"] | [member="C-02"] | [member="Thraxis"] | [member="Errreembuhr"] | [member="Cenric Marus"] | [member="Ari Vox"]