Cloudy with a Chance of Sith (GA Attack on Taloraan)

[Chevu Visz]

​

From the the world of Fondor the Galactic Alliance launched their vessels, freighters and fighters that set a course for the gas giant of Taloraan in the Expansion Region. Not only had the One Sith brutally sieged the cloud city of Taloraan City as well as the rare tibanna gas factories, but the Sith had also supported the wholesale slaughter of the native tribes of the peaceful Denfrandi tribes. The dark side sullied the world with its tyranny over the light. Taloraan needed help, and soon the Galactic Alliance would bring the planet a new hope. In starships, fighters, and on the backs of stolen Wind Riders, the Galactic Alliance would rain down on Taloraan, and right the wrongs that were imposed upon the planet. The New Jedi Order would hit the One Sith where it really hurt, economically, by stealing tibanna gas for the Alliance. They would also work to return the Denfrandi’s floating Sleft-chuff homes to their rightful owners.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chevu Visz had no prior experience riding on the back of a flying creature, but today she was getting a crash course. The Mirialan Knight sat astride a Fleft-waft, an enormous avian mount, stolen from a Wind Rider camp. The name of the creature, embossed on its saddle, was Swiftcloud, and so far Swiftcloud hadn’t thrown her off its back, so she counted herself lucky. The flying mount dipped and turned with daredevil precision as the green alien girl scouted the skies, on the lookout for pockets of resistance to the Galactic Alliance’s assault. If she saw Sith forces mobilizing, she would warn [member="Coren Starchaser"] and the rest of the GADF and members of the New Jedi Order, such as Marshal [member="Jacen Voidstalker"], also on their way. With lightsaber in hand, she planned to fight any Sith that tried to stand in the way of justice. For Taloraan!

@Galactic Alliance members

Spoiler

You can find the OOC thread here.

Objectives are:

1. 
   Steal tibanna gas for the GA’s reserves
   
2. 
   Help the Denfrandi build new settlements and arrest any genocidal Wind Riders for war crimes
   
3. 
   Battle in the air or on Taloraan City. Fight or arrest any Sith you see
   

Make sure you use the following template and tag your enemies and allies:

Objective:
Location:
Allies:
Enemies:

Have fun!

 

[Rapax]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFEAzP1Zm-A&list=LLk3Jz8XNjori7WkHoFsmifQ&index=4​

Objective:Fight a returning enemy
Location: on top of the spire at the center of Taloraan
Allies: Unknown
Enemies: Hopefully a green one called [member="Chevu Visz"]

The GA intended to launch an attack on Taloraan eh?....good he missed killing Jedi for the longest time.....he was glad they finally attacked again...there where plenty of Jedi for the pillaging...however...there was one prey he hoped would make another appearance....one that escaped him in the slave auction...the one whose mind was his before another removed him from her mind...there was much left to explore and he was ready to face the green wench again...he felt around to see if she was here .....There it was....that familiar presence again...He called a near by Felt-waft and leaped on it with one of his sabers in his free hand and commanded the beast to fly towards her. She would hear a familiar voice echo into her mind for a moment."Hello again green one....care for round two?" was all she heard

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Alliance ships were being dispatched and for once, Coren was with the fleet. He was getting the fleet mobilized for a strike and drop. The One Sith were taking worlds left and right and no one was doing anything to stop them. What really needed to be done were set up units to start an actual rebellion, throw worlds into uprising. Maybe he should get [member="Jorus Merrill"] into that sort of thinking, but the other pilot had his plate full, and the One Sith was definitely a target for the Alliance military to tackle with.

In his standard ship, the Tachyon Rising, without his standby apprentice, Coren reverted into real space ahead of the fleet. The freighters that could keep up, either by some crack pilot, Coren sharing the route from Fondor to Taloraan that he himself made. The instinctive astrogator could push his ship harder because he knew how it worked. Looking back to the crew that had accompanied him, Coren nodded. “We’ll be making a low swoop, to drop you off.” Soldiers, some of the Tiburons, and others who were skilled with insurgency missions, as well as drops of food and other consumables to mask the firearms.

He was just going to have to keep the Sith busy for a few minutes. Turning to his scopes, he looked to the empty co-pilot seat, he didn’t need one, and checked in with the gunners. “Stay frosty.” The scopes were showing friendly freighters and larger transports coming. He was looking for the Sith and turning his course for the planet.

Everyone had their job, when the fighters came in, a screen before any capital ships that may end up in the area, they’d cover the freighters, for now, it was to run any blockade that showed up.

“Chev, we’re in system, paint me some targets for drops.”

Someone needed to be on the ground, else he wasn’t sure where he was needing to drop the supplies and which teams.

[member="Chevu Visz"]

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Objective: Objective 3
Location: On top of the world
Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: [member="Darth Vornskr"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT0yCGUWUZc

There was gnawing feeling in him, the sort that bites down and burrows in deep. He couldn't fight it and for some reason, he didn't really have an urge to even engage. There was a drawing here, the power of the force gleaning any notion of control he might have had. A magnet drawn across a galaxy to engage one of a polar opposite, he jumped at the chance to bring the fight to the Sith's doorstep. He had suggested Jacen attack at the breast of the One Sith, claim the planet of Khomm and subvert the powers of the One Sith at the point of juncture. Sever the supply line. But that was so long ago, times had changed and now the forces of the Galactic Alliance took another pot shot. This time, so close to Pantatha, the last in the line of OS extension in the western direction. He would be here, to smack the dog with a rolled up news paper for barking in his back yard. But he might not expect the pack that roamed freely above Taloraan.

Gabriel too flew on the back of Flet-Waft. A GLX Firelance on his back, the Dissauder KD-30 on his right thigh, and the War-Torn armor on his torso, he slapped the reigns of the beast as he descended towards the floating city. Lightsaber on the small of his back, the wind ripped at his armorweave robe as he looked upon the floating city that the Galactic Alliance had targeted. For resources, for forward installations of attack, for the defense of the people. Gabriel wasn't here for that, he wasn't one to run over these tasks. There was a righteous purpose here and he felt its culling in the rush of the force, brown eyes staring out into the horizon. He had an old friend, a comrade and now an enemy, that he sought with extreme prejudice.

He denied Reverance once on Panatha, an audience with a true prize. He wouldn't deny Gabriel, not this time.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhceIRP2XU0​

​

Imperial ships materialized out of the gloom, all alerted to the sudden attack at the Empire's depot-world of Taloraan. It was to be expected, that region of space was underdeveloped compared to the rest of the Empire, and had only been recently expanded into by Imperial forces. However; being the only supply route to and from the planet of Panatha (homeworld of one of the Dark Lord's voices) the defenses along the line were considerable. At the center of the newly arrived fleet was the warship, Ruination, a Tactical Primeval-class Star Destroyer gifted to Darth Vornskr by the late Host Lord [member="Anja Aj'Rou"]. All along it's bow bristled battlements overflowing with weapon emplacements, all of which whirred to life as the ship's targeting systems identified the nearby Galactic Alliance vessels and prepared for a lock on.

Within it's gullet mingled an assembled host of Blackblade Guardsman, although their assembly more resembled a disorganized mob than an army preparing for battle. However; their camaraderie fell into a hushed silence, all laughter ceased, all baiting quieted. They turned as one, falling into loose ranks as the western door rolled open on its grinding tracks. The figure beyond moved in a hulking sway, its black armor stained by the stern stare of the hanger's illumination stripes. His armor plating was layer upon layer of Imperial ingenuity crafted to resemble archaic knightly splendor. His movements were feral, without any of the natural grace seen in the hunting cats stalking the jungles of Panatha; his homeworld. And if he could be called a god, he was a wounded one, scarred in flesh and mind. His over-muscled movements, coupled with the tidal grind of his armor joints, turned his stride into a lumbering threat. He could be swift, but only when the thrill of the battle ran hot. Outside of battle, he was a ruined thing, a shadow of what could -- what should -- have been.

He stood before them, a towering monolith of muscle and metal, his hateful eyes swaying back and forth as he inspected his troop. A grim smile split his features and he spoke with a voice of the same consistency and sound of sludge and gravel. "The Alliance mocks us, they bait themselves in front of the lion's den and openly taunt the lion... They will learn the price of their trifling, and they will pay it a hundred fold. We subjugated this world once, and we will do so again and drive these miscreants from our door, tail tucked between their legs. We will not suffer the same indignity as we did on Coruscant, this time I am ready; this time we are ready! Let them taste the steel of your blade, and by the day's end they will choke on their own blood." The soldiers, of course, cheered! Their collective hunger for battle nearly rivaled that of their Lord, and they were easily swayed by his guttural words.

And so transports were filled to bursting, ranks upon ranks of Blackblade Guardsman stuffing themselves into the holds as they all chanted one war hymn or another, a sea of madness that could be heard through every deck of the Ruination. Darth Vornskr boarded his own shuttle, a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach drawing him to the pinnacle of Taloraan City. Whilst the rest of his men would congregate at the landing zones strategically placed throughout the floating city, Vornskr would travel alone to the highest spire to confront one whom he'd previously known as ally; but who know wore the cloak of an enemy. However; en route to the spire his shuttle was struck by some faceless Alliance pilot, forcing him to disembark as the shuttle careened towards its fiery death down below.

As he fell freely through the cloudy atmosphere, he spied another Alliance pilot flying on one of the native Fleft-wauf. He adjusted his descent through the skies to land upon the back of the beast, and with minimal effort he tore the rider from his saddle and flung him over the side. Taking up the reigns himself, he used the power of the Dark Side to dominate the beast's mind and forced it to submit to his commands. Now with a mount he continued on his way to the city's spire, and ran straight into his new nemesis [member="The Revenant"]!

The battle would soon be joined.

 

[Alasdair Sitra]

Objective: 3
Location: Setting up the carnage.
Allies: [member="Coren Starchaser"]
Enemies: ???

This was it.
The fleet was moving at least, fast and true core ward in the direction of the One Sith and their tyrannical reign on the galaxy. They had all but cornered the Republic and cemented their claim as the ruling force of their time. They however underestimated the power of the free people, those who did not agree with the evil that came from Coruscant. They had all found a rallying point within the Galactic Alliance, a force of fleeing lightsiders, skilled men and women who just needed the right people to rally behind.
They had found those people.
Now they would strike back, show the Sith that no matter their ground, no matter their control someone would always challenge their claim of evil. The Galactic Alliance would always stand.

Dex adjusted his helmet strap, made sure it was tight on his chin. The usual level of ego and relaxation that flowed through the X-wing pilot had disappeared as it had with the rest of his squadron, the communication silence of Red Squadron showing that they knew this was the real deal. This wasn’t a drill, this was them versus the Sith and one wrong move meant they were dead and out of the fight for freedom.

The pilot ace felt his throat go dry as the star lines faded and the world of Taloraan appeared before him. He took a look at his scanners and knew that he had to get straight to action as the pings of the rest of his squadron appeared around him along with the larger ships of the GADF which fell out of hyperspace and began to fall into formations.

“Red Squadron call in.” Dex said through his channel that was connected straight to his unit.
<“Red Two calling in.”>
<“Red Three here.”>
<“Red Four copy.”>
So it went until all fighters, one through twelve had stated their arrival in system.

“This is Hope.” The voice of their supreme commander came through the open GADF channel. “All wings report in.”
Dex took his call and immediately responded with his own call. “Red Unit reporting in.”
<“Green Wing.”>
<“Blue Wing.”>
Again the calls went on as the fighters of the GADF fell into attack formations above the world. Freighters were scattered among the military fighters, transports dedicated to breaking through to the floating platforms of the clouds beneath.

“Red group.” Dex sounded to get their attention. “Full speed and with me.”
The sensors told the story well as Red Group shot off from the main group quickly catching up with the existing pings of the first wave of freighters that had entered earlier to slip through as the chaos hit.

He heard the calls of Commander Starchaser and adjusted his own course as per the readouts being sent through by GADF command, Sith ships had broken off and began to head towards the encroaching fighter screen. Even Dex had to admit, the excitement was starting to kick in, even if it was a little bit of the more serious kind.

“Red group, lock S-Foils in attack positions.”
<“Locking.”>
<“Roger.>”
<“Copy that.>”
Dex felt his ship groan as the wings split on his fighter, the readouts indicating the sudden powersurge through his weapon systems.
“Maintain formation. Choose your targets.” Dex ordered. He waited and waited, seconds feeling like hours as the two line converged on each other. “Split and engage!”
<“Yeeehaa!.”>

 

[Djorn Bline]

Location: Aboard the Tachyon
Allies: GA, [member=Coren Starchaser]
Enemies: Soon™
Objective: 3
Gear:

Spoiler

- Armor
- DC-17m
- DC-17 pistols
- Two flashbangs
- Two thermal detonators
- Combat Knife

Everything was going well for the Alliance. After the successful campaign on Fondor it raised the morale of those in the Galactic Alliance to such levels. Fondor was a turning point for everyone who gained control of it because of the treasure trove waiting to be claimed. It was, after all, the capital of the late Omega Protectorate that once was a major superpower in the known Galaxy. It offered many riches and promises because of the economy flourishing through the streets, the science and technology updating everyone to the future, the power that strengthen by the military, and many, many more things that made it a major settlement. If it had fallen to the hands of the Dark Lord of the Sith, then their fear would crush a majority of resistance against the Sith. Falling in line and obeying the orders of such dark figure that was only interest in his benefits, and that wasn't how most of the total population acted when a tyrant was only seeking power.

And the Clone was like those freedom fighters. Do as one said wasn't his cup of tea when it came to an order he was engineered to fight and destroy.

He was one of the many passengers aboard Coren's personal vessel. It couldn't pack a whole lot due to their desire of being discreet to pass the One Sith blockade, but he was fine with whatever plan as long as it got him to the ground in one piece. And if there was any pilot he trusted was Coren Starchaser himself. The soldier began checking his equipment before he was dropped in on Taloraan to make a statement to the Sith as well as the other men and women participating in this battle.

 

[Setzi Lunelle]

Location: In the skies north of Taloraan City
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: Galactic Alliance
Objective: 3

The One Sith drums of war sounded again, but this time it was on Taloraan. Darth Azurea heeded the call, flying The Pirate's Foe from Glee Anselm to a Sith-aligned Wind Rider camp to the far north of Talorran City. She anchored near an Island Beast, where she would receive her own fleft-wauf mount. The Sith Knight had ridden one before, but her riding skills were a little rusty. She decided to take the avian creature out for a few low passes around the City. The Galactic Alliance had announced their intentions to meddle in the affairs of Talorran by bringing a fleet of freighters and fighter squadrons, but nothing matching the sheer might of the Sith's capital ships. Were they mobilized and organized enough to challenge the powerful Sith Navy? That remained to be seen.

Azurea wore a simple riding outfit, geared more towards movement on her fleft-wauf than for personal protection. She had a commlink on her wrist which was patched into a similar one owned by [member="Darth Pyrrhus"]. This way she would be able to scout for any Alliance troops and Jedi, and promptly report it back to the Togruta Lord. Enemies in the sky - made of metal or feathers and bones - could then be shot down with precision torpedoes. Before Darth Azurea had departed the Island Beast, the Wind Riders had sharpened her fleft-wauf's talons to razor sharp points. She was looking forward to snatching up infantry soldiers, flying to the top of the clouds and dropping them to plummet to their deaths.

 

[Peyton Steele]

Objective: A – Mark Platforms for raid
Location: Gas Platform
Enemies: [member="Isamu Baelor"]
Allies: GA fleet and raid teams

Taloraan was an interesting world. Floating cities, giant birds, the whole nine yards. Peyton Steele was dispatched as there were resources to secure. Her ship, the Shadow-class transport was something new. She had a vessel that had been granted advanced engines and a stealth, not cloaking, system. It allowed her to get through the Sith blockade, but the fact that she was having a day’s head start over the fleet itself was important. Sure, it might be godmodding, but really, it allowed for story.

Peyton was snooping around and marking targets for pick up. The world had many floating platforms and she was moving from one to another in rapid succession, picking up sleep when her ship would get spotted by its low engine profile, only to keep doing her task at first light.

And that was the setting for this interaction. The blonde’s blue eyes was watching as she was putting the next encrypted beacon on one of the platforms, she had thought she was being sneaky when she placed her previous ones, the platforms farther from a response location, but who knows? She was in a black jumpsuit with light duraplast armor. On her back kept like some island nation’s warriors kept swords, were reinforced and telescopic stun batons, and on her slim hips hung a holster with a blaster.

She was hoping the fleet would be able to see the locations of the platforms she picked out.

 

[cheshire_kitty]

Objective: C
Location: Near the centre of Taloraan, observing Darth Rapax
Allies: [member="Darth Rapax"] (?)
Enemies: [member="Chevu Visz"] | [member="Tachon Zur-Ksi"]

If there was a place where Konrad did not belong, that is where he would likely be. As someone who demanded utmost obedience from his soldiers, ‘No’ was not an answer he was used to hearing. Konrad knew of Darth Rapax’s desire to fight Chevu Visz of the Galactic Republic so here he was, to gatecrash this party. Runing other's fun was his fun after all.

Konrad watched Darth Rapax from below, ready to join the Sith Knight's fight with Chevu once it had begun.

 

[EmKay]

OBJECTIVE: [?]
LOCATION: ALONG-SIDE CHEVU VISZ
ENEMIES: THE ONE SITH; [member="Darth Rapax"]; [member="Konrad von Grimmelshausen"]
ALLIES: THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE; [member="Chevu Visz"]

---

There came a point where even the most isolationist of individuals had to play ball with the team. Tachon was assigned to work with Chevu in order to gain experience and learn teamwork. At least, that was what the cover said. In reality, Zur-Ksi imagined it was more of a test in skill and loyalty. This was to be his first wrangle with the One Sith, and as such there were many variables. From his own nature to the circumstances in which he'd joined the Alliance, it was a fulcrum upon which the Iridonian's relationship with the Alliance pivoted. He was not inclined to play traitor, though. Whether he completely liked the selflessness of the faction or not, Tachon forged an honour code for himself, and there was nothing worse in his perspective than betrayal. So it was.

On arriving at Taloraan, the Iridonian stayed covert with his green-skinned overwatch. When they came to steal a Fleft-wauf, he was intimidated by the massive bird. With a little 'encouragement', she got him riding one too, falling into formation next to her Swiftcloud with his Stormchaser. The bird was temperamental and wanted to be let loose, but Tachon had his own inner animal, and he wrestled it under control in a battle of wills, reins, and bucking. Things were calm now, though, mostly. He scanned as she did, waiting for his next instruction. His little bit of extrasensory Force ability told him things were going to heat up fast, soon.

 

[Gabriel Sionoma]

Objective: Objective 3
Location: On top of the world
Allies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Chevu Visz"]
Enemies: [member="Darth Vornskr"]

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EApnhO2OIrw​

​

A sickening and pallid pallor strafed across the sky, gunmetal and steel and the forthcoming attack of the Voice of the Dark Lord. Some would look towards the sky, feel the shake and the tear across the horizon, fear cracking and quaking through clammy flesh. This was a seepage, wound torn across the planet, and it descended with an intimidating black spew. The malice, the hatred, the sycophant aura, it crawled out like a beast summoned from a heaven bound hell, constantly ascending upward. Gabriel bared his teeth, well knowing of the calamity that would be born from this ruination. Cutting hard towards the high spire of durasteel and bronze dome scaffolding, he felt the wind whip across his cloak.

Then he felt it again, that thump, like the gavel descending towards the hollow soundblock. The anticipation schemed its way into his being, the mental anxiety becoming something truly formidable. Shaking his head, he looked up just in time to see the Fleft-waft descend into his own mount, sending him careening to the left with a whiplash of his head to the right. The beast moaned in defeat and he did everything he could to steady it, overcome with the hit, as he spotted the God King of Panatha and his sickly armor and taint. But it wasn't enough as the rein wrapped around his left arm as he was sent flailing from the beast in a semi-arch. Barring his teeth once more, a groan would follow, as he was clamped to the abdomen of the beast that flapped it's wings violently, vitriolic view of it's current station. Instinctively, Gabriel unholstered the dissauder and fired off four rounds. Not towards the man, towards the beast he mounted. Littering it's abdomen with acidic shots, he tossed the gun towards the city below them and ignited the crimson lightsaber, spinning and slashing across the saddle and rein that wrapped his left arm, cutting into the skin as he bounced against the body with every flap of the wings.

Spilling out gore and fatally wounding the monster mid flight, the leather saddle relented and released the man from his descending coffin. Arms out, attempting to slow his fall, he plummeted towards the bronze roofing, spire erect in the middle and providing a proper target for the inevitable strike against the surface. As he fell, he looked up towards the monster and the mount it rode, before focusing his power into trying to survive this fall. He silently hoped the construction was sturdy, otherwise he might hit against the roof and fall through into the building below. But even with all that hope, he looked forward to the exchange that would soon occur. It was the sort of conversation that would never end properly, the clash of blade and blood would soon sing it's own song. And they would have a proper dance. Assuming he survived the fall.

​

 

[Marcus Itera]

Location: Approaching Taloraan City
Objective: 1 - Steal Tibanna gas, sabotage leftovers.
Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: The One Sith

On paper, this whole operation was supposed to be a milk run. The Star Galleon had been registered under some backwater company's name, rigged with a whole suite of cargo loading droids and technological assets, and then deployed straight to Taloraan along with the fast strike force. Attaching a heavy freighter to a quick striking unit didn't seem to be the smartest of moves on their part, but they needed ample cargo space and enough defenses to ensure that their loot wasn't destroyed on the way out.

It had passed through the planet's thick, heavy atmosphere just minutes before the assault fighters and capital ships came in guns a-blazing. It puttered through the airspace with corporate impunity and their registration numbers, docking bay access, and an assortment of other clearance and customs measures were passed. Apparently a Captain by the name of Mark Francisco was supposed to make the payment as soon as all of the cargo was loaded.

"Mark Francisco? Really?"

The Sergeant Major shrugged. "Had a nice ring to it. Makes me sound like a conquistador - or a matador."

The AI just snorted and shook her head at him as he fiddled with his raggedy looking clothing. "Something wrong?"

"Civvie clothes feel weird. Loose, weird texture, and I'm pretty sure synthcloth can't stop a slug or blaster bolt." The man slid a hand down his scoundrel's attire with a look of mock disgust and shivered. His hand landed upon the holstered blaster pistol with practiced movements, the only source of relative comfort this outfit would afford. "But I don't want to walk in lookin' like a tinman, so I guess this'll have to do."

That was right. He wasn't alone on this mission either. Dozens of Alliance soldiers had volunteered to crew the ship, pull security, or standby to bug out Marcus if something went awry and they had to bail.

It was nice to have friends.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

LOCATION: Clouds
ALLIES: GA
ENEMIES: [member="Lord Mythos"]
OBJECTIVE: Dogfight

The RebelX light gunship slashed through the skies of Taloraan, navigating past murky clouds. Fleft-whuffles or whatever were at work in the atmosphere all around, and for the moment Mara flew carefully, wary of shredding allies. RebelX gunships had been here before, when the Underground won the Second Battle of Taloraan. This was the Third, or maybe the Fourth - depended on how the One Sith had taken this world. In an earlier Battle of Taloraan, regardless, RebelX gunships had made a serious impact on high-capacity refineries. Industrial platforms and Star Destroyers had been sent spiralling down into the crushing depths of the gas giant. It didn't hurt that Taloraan's powerful magnetic field impeded scanning from orbit, protecting the strike force from a potential fleet action.

Mara kept one eye on her instruments and her other on the Force. Instinctive astrogation, Force-enhanced piloting, was her strength and her family's strength. In an environment like this, flying in a powerful grav well, she trusted her gut more than the console. She searched for targets in the clouds, half by sensors and visual signs, and half by instinct.

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Taloraan City
Objective: Steal Tabanna Gas
Allies: [member="Qyren Leret"] [member="Marcus Foster"]
Enemies: [member="Strider Garon"]

Marcus was on his way, or at least he was supposed to be. The di'kut was always late.

Alex had arrived in Taloraan City a few hours prior to the assault. That had not been easy to pull off -- Sith worlds were especially well defended. Getting through the planet's atmosphere was hard enough; getting through the city without ditching his armor was another beast entirely. A mercenary pass and a fake identity that seemed all too real got him through the strenuous process unharmed. His fellow soldiers were not so lucky.

Three men had been detained, a third summarily executed. Four others were denied access. Only two others were allowed through, and they were already moving to set their timed detonators in marked locations. The explosives would not cause any real harm; they were loud, bright, and more importantly drew attention. That was Alex's job right now; to keep the Sith off Marcus's back while his brother stole heaps of Tibanna gas.

He strolled up to the Tibanna harvesting facility as casually as one could in this kind of situation. The ID pass gave him entrance. Security officers turned their attentions to him the moment he stepped through the doors -- he was clad in heavy armor after all. You didn't wear that kind of thing for an inspection.

The officer barely managed to open his mouth before Alex shoved his vibroknife into it. His partner barked a curse and raised his rifle, but the soldier with Alex dropped him in a similar fashion to the first.

"Get into position. Foster and his team could arrive at any moment." Alex reached for Shacklebolt he'd been lugging around for the past hour. The soldier nodded, and jogged off to his predetermined location.

It was around that time that the alarm began to whistle. Seemed they needed to cause that distraction they'd talked about.

"Qyren, sweetheart, I can you make sure Foster's team gets here alright. They're going to send Sith; I'll deal with that."

Oh, how wrong he was.

 

[Coren Starchaser]

The freighter was coming in low. He looked to the back of the cockpit and accessed the ship’s intercom. “We’re breaking atmo, troops get ready. I’m going to throw you low in on one of the tibanna platforms. We’re hoping to steal that. Team two, we’re dropping you at the main city. You know the drill, free the ones we can, and get to ground so we can pick you up when it comes time to take this world.” That was an Underground style of combat, and one he was using more and more. There were teams all around the galaxy working for the Alliance and waiting for the proper time to strike.

They would know it when they heard it, that was for sure.

He knew he had some of the Dreadguard, the older… model? Were they models, he wasn’t quite sure how that worked, aboard his ship. They could pick what team they wanted to be a part of. “Tiburon Squadron, keep on the freighters, watch their back, I’ll join you in combat soon.” As long as there were people in the sky to fight, that was where Coren was going to be.

The freighter rolled, and there was the telltale sign of crashing as the gravity started to mess with his ship. Pushing the inertial compensator up, he slammed the throttle, the roar of the Corellian ships engines burning through fuel as he flipped a switch in the cargo hold. “Team one, go.” He ordered, dropping the ship down hard on her repulsorlifts, full throttle.

[member="Canal"] had his orders, Coren wasn't sure which group he was dropping with, or if he was going to be one of his turrets, but for now he didn't matter. Sith fighters were going to be coming boiling down on him.

 

[Qyren Leret]

Location: Taloraan City
Objective: Steal Tabanna Gas
Allies: [member="Alexander Ontonas"] Marcus Fosterhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/1794-marcus-foster/
Enemies: Strider Garonhttp://starwarsrp.net/user/1926-strider-garon/

Qyren had had the easiest time of the group in getting through the safeguards on the city; she hadn't dared use the Force either to break her way in or distract the guards, but in Sith space pretending to be a Sith was considered suicide and so no one expected anyone to do it-- luckily for Qyren, she ran with people who made suicide missions part of their everyday lives. Wearing black, skin tight clothing that showed as much skin as she dared, with her lightsaber openly displayed at her hip, the tall Twi'lek was the first of Alex's strike force to stroll past the checkpoint as if she did so every day. They had tried to stop her; a direct stare, faked Sith credentials and the silent threat of impending harm via Force-crushed ID card reader had quelled them. She was uncomfortable with both her attire and attitude, understandably, but it had worked.

Once in the city, she had placed her explosives where necessary and then backtracked to the Tibanna harvesting facility to wait for Alex's arrival. She fell into place beside him as he arrived, concerned to see that their numbers had dwindled so much in such a short time, but had little time to think about it; the guards in the facility presented their first obstacle, though one that was easily taken care of. Qyren averted her gaze from the gruesome murders, using the time to spot other potential problems. She only returned her attention to her team when Alex ordered the other soldier off. They could work as a pair on this, but it wasn't unheard of for pairs to need to split up during a fight; in fact, they had prepared for that exact situation if it became necessary. Her fear was that splitting up would see them fail or, worse, die without the other one to watch their back.

Qyren turned to glance at the front doors as the alarm went off. They would be coming now.

A smile flickered across Qyren's lips at Alex's faintly facetious order, and she took the lightsaber from her belt. "I'll see to it." She started backing away toward the hall that would take her to the platform lifts. "Don't get yourself killed. I won't be able to get here in time to save you."

Turning her back on him, she jogged off, sharp-eyed for additional guards or personnel who would make trouble for her or come up behind Alex as he had to defend against whichever Sith or Sith allies came to deal with the attack on their gas facility. Marcus was due to be in soon. She had to move quickly.

 

[Strider Garon]

Location: Taloraan City
Objective: Terminate Intruders...... or arrest.
Allies: One Sith
Enemies: GA [member="Alexander Ontonas"]

Then.....

Fate seemed to have a hard on for the old man in a way that could only be measured by jail house antics. Here Strider Garon was on a guided tour through one of the tibana gas factories, being lead by a small security team of on wetted pups and a pencil neck bureaucrat that kissed so much ass in his day that his breath smelt like poodoo. Strider was clad in his beskar'gam, his helmet clamped to his tac belt off to the left side of his hip. The security detail wanted him to be unarmed but they were advised from high authorities to let it slide, for relation building purposes. As much as the imperial sergeant wanted to remind the mandalorian warrior how this was not proper protocol and that his weapons should of been checked at the gates. Strider whispered a few words into the imperials ear, something along the lines of how many forms of death he could orchestrate there and then that only his bare hands being the only instruments. Least to say the sergeant laid off.

They were at a view port looking over the refindering process when the alarm went off. The pencil neck beucrat, a purple bald headed fondorian, turned eyes towards the Sargeant who was glued to the comms. "Sargeant! What..... whats happening" His voice would squeak in worry, this was no drill and by the looks of the security team this was a serious matter at hand.

"We have armed intruders! I am to take you two back to safety!" He would inform them. Before turning on his heels and waving them all to follow.

"Give me your com security codes, I believe I will be more use in the hunt!' The old man's voice resonated deeply in the concordian accent. Seemed fate put the mandalorian warrior here for a reason and if that was the case, he as sure as hell was noting going to cowar in some secure shed. He was here to make a deal with the One Sith, just now opportunity has it, the ink well will be filled in blood and if the mandalorian diplomat could fill enough of it maybe such deals will sway in his favor.

Strider placed his buy'ce upon his head, his HUD flaring to life with multiple alerts. With out hesitation the warrior would move towards the enemies known location, the security pass codes given to him by the 'trusting' sergeant allowed him access through the doors but also connection to the security holovids and coms. Wouldn't be long before the hunter would find his prey.

Now........

And so fate had brought the lone warrior upon two armored intruders. Strider raised his ancient EE-3 carbine to the ready as he moved up the dark corridor towards his enemy. His yellow shoulder cape, a symbol of his rank, flapped behind him as he zeroed in on [member="Alexander Ontonas"] . With a squeeze of the trigger the legendary warrior would let loose a three round burst of red bolts upon his targeted enemy, all aimed for center mass. This was not his fight, but he choose to to engage anyways. He liked to think it was to better his vantage point in making a trade deal with the fondorians and their One Sith masters. But in honest, he knew down deep what he was and why he killed. It wasn't for his people, it was for himself for when pushed, killing was as easing as breathing for the aged war horse.

 

[Marcus Itera]

Location: Approaching Taloraan City
Objective: 1 - Steal Tibanna gas, sabotage leftovers.
Allies: The Galactic Alliance - [member="Qyren Leret"], [member="Alexander Ontonas"]
Enemies: The One Sith

Arriving fashionably late was his thing. One never knew how badly they needed a Marcus Foster until the situation went FUBAR and he was only minutes away. At least that's what he liked to tell himself; made him sleep a little better at night. As the crew of the Galleon made last-minute arrangements in the cargo hold and the primary defensive systems, a show crew staffed most of the public areas. These crewmen were garbed in your average Joe attire, sporting handler's overalls, grease-stained work clothes, and bearing the scruff and gruff of seasoned freightsmen. The rest of 'em were armed to the teeth, clad in Alliance uniform, and worked tirelessly to ensure that their little undercover op went as planned.

"Just got word from the ground team. They got in but they've lost over three quarters of their team already." Miranda looked disgruntled. "Commander Ontanas, Jedi Leret, and Sergeant Mullaney made it in. That's it."

Marcus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Gods above. We haven't even started yet. Double check our credentials, make sure those boys in black don't come raining on our parade."

The vessel veered through the thick air, utilizing an array of tractor beams in conjunction with souped up sublight engines. The native avian creatures were exotic, though they quickly became a nuisance when interested in what a flying piece of durasteel had to offer. Once their curiosity got the best of them, the tractor beam operators took to "pushing" them away with invisible hands - and that seemed to be enough of a warning for the moment.

Minutes later, the Galleon was docking at Port 84, sandwiched between a smaller freight craft and a luxury yacht. The procession happened very quickly, several sensor nodes running along the hull in inspection while green and grey uniformed men started to flood the large platform with docking equipment and cargo essentials.

Marcus popped in an earpiece and disembarked with a number of his show crew in tow, who immediately took to engaging extended landing procedures. A single man, looking at age thirty with a head starkly void of hair, strode towards the undercover commando. A datapad was clasped tightly within his grasp, a sidearm at his hip, and official military insignias were emblazoned on his lapels.

"Cap'n Mark Francisco, at yer service. I'm here t' pick up a shipment o' freight." he drew out a South Corellian accent and glanced skywards. "Looks like somethin' rough, anything I should be worried about?"

The bald man didn't reply. He finished tapping at his datapad before peering upwards to meet Marcus's gaze. "It's nothing to be worried about, Captain. Most likely raiders or pirates; we tend to see them quite often but the local fleet keeps them in check." He rubbed his chin, "Though they do seem a bit aggressive this time around."

The Imperial fell silent before looking back up. "Captain Francisco was it?"

Marcus nodded sheepishly.

"I'm Lieutenant Colonel Avram Khan, of Imperial Customs. Pleasure to meet you." Khan directed his attention back to the datapad. "Looks like Wild Veil enterprises has ordered quite a large amount of tibanna, I see. What might that be for, Captain?"

"Energy," he replied. "Wild Veil's an outer rim company, Colonel. We provide quality, cheap services t' those who are in desperate need of 'em."

Colonel Khan produced a wolfish grin. "How benevolent of you."

 

[Placeholder 0133]

Location: Taloraan City
Objective: Be Gutsy
Allies: [member="Marcus Foster"] [member="Qyren Leret"]
Enemies: [member="Strider Garon"]

He really should have said something more. Qyren did not need to be here; she volunteered for his sake. She really had no stake in this war beyond his own well being -- for whatever reason that had failed to register until this very moment. He watched her go with narrowed eyes, sighed, and opened a private comm channel to Marcus.

"You'll have a landing pad clear Marcus. Qyren is going to assist you when you land -- if she's hurt, I'm holding you responsible." Part jest, part statement. He wasn't leaving this world without her. His lips parted to say more when three red dots flashed across his HUD. Then he was falling back, his shields were failing, and smoke was rising from his breast plate.

Shot?

Alex rolled to the right behind the reception desk and brought his rifle up to bare. He hadn't seen where the shooter was -- he'd been too busy trying to get a hold of Marcus. A rookie mistake.

"Evening," he called out from his place behind the desk, "Don't suppose I can convince you of the evils of the bathrobe brigade?"

Probably not.

The shields were going to take a moment to recharge, and the armor was already steaming from the third bolt. He could not afford to try and fire without knowing where his opponent was. There was really only one solution.

Alex primed one of the three thermal detonators he always carried on his person in combat situations. Mumbling a prayer to the stars, he hurled the explosive orb down the hall toward the shooter.

Mando go boom?