Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Doing something

On the way, Trextan had connected to several Barkesh news feeds. The transition of power had been relatively smooth. The First Order had stormtroopers on the ground, destroyers in the sky. Their flags hung over the capital. The Alliance had called for less direct resistance, unwilling to use their own civilians to halt the advance of the Order.

Despite this there was still fighting in numerous quarters. A world was a large place. There was minor civil unrest, several attacks on troopers by civilians and some organised resistance efforts on some continents away from the capital. The situation was a confusing mess and Trextan had started to question if they could really help here. To distract himself he'd checked their supplies twice during the flight already.

He returned to the cockpit to find Riggs giving Taheera another long story of his time in the academy. Trextan had been increasingly annoyed by his overt flirting with the mirialan and utterly oblivious to the more subtle flirting aimed in his own direction.

"And then he ran like that - no clothes, burning rag stuffed between his cheeks - all the way back to the lakeside!"

Trextan caught Taheera's eye and gave a subtle shake of the head as he took a seat at the comm station.

[member="Taheera Sollo"]

RIP Carlyle Rausgeber

"It's all been bloody marvellous..."
Barkesh was like many other planets annexed by the First Order. Although there would be some initial friction, which was fair enough, it needed to be ended as soon as possible. After the defeat handed to the Galactic Alliance in the Mustafar sector, the First Order had moved to incorporate Barkesh as a member of its burgeoning state. Although, physically at least, the Imperial Palace had deployed troops and extensive material to the system to deploy troops, thousands of bureaucrats from various departments had flocked to the planets capital. Officials from Treasury, to Tourism, and Agriculture to Science found themselves building Supreme Leader's influence. Offices for every department were being set up to ensure the transition from Alliance vassal to First Order territory was as smooth as possible. However, until the civilian government could become operable, the military would step in to administer the planet.

Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber was one of the senior most officers on Barkesh. His project, the First Imperial Modular Base was being rolled out some way away from the capitol, and on the southern plains, where Outpost Voku had been destined to begin construction. While star destroyers and engineers slaved to make the land malleable for such a structure, Carlyle had made his temporary base of operations in Barkesh's capital spaceport. It was from there, the fleet organised a defensive blockade, and mediated oncoming traffic.

Rausgeber stalked through the spaceports halls. It had been commandeered by a mixture of FOSB, and Naval personnel, who monitored traffic and tried to piece together the logs of Alliance ships, comings and goings. Although the spaceport staff were kept on, they were undergoing character assessment by FOSB personnel for potential sympathies for their former sovereigns. Carlyle entered the command room, flanked by his Shadowtrooper guards. Dozens of naval personnel sat at their consoles, monitoring telemetry being received from the ships in orbit, as well as trawling through data logs. It was a dark room, with no windows. The only light came from the glow of the data terminals. Carlyle passed by the rows of naval technicians and FOSB encryption personnel behind their data banks, until he reached the Commanding Officer, a corvette commander, pressed into the job of air-traffic controller.

"How long have you been on duty Commander?" Carlyle asked.

The officer stood to attention, and saluted, "Twelve hours admiral," The commander reported.

"Anything of note to report?" Carlyle asked, inspecting the man. He was clearly weary, his eyes carried dark rings underneath them.

"Nothing of note sir, the scheduled transports from Effekt were received. Along with the bronzium shipment from Zarnathea." The commander reported, "Other than that, we haven't had anything."

"What of the TIE flyovers, has anything come from them?" Carlyle asked, "We will not have these dissidents subvert our liberation of this system."

"The TIE's found nothing admiral." The commander reported, "We will continue flying them. If these guerrillas try anything again, we'll be sure to pick them up."

"Good, good," Carlyle commented drily. He wasn't impressed, but then again, it wouldn't be good for morale if he expressed his displeasure in any more explicit means. The senior officer then eyed the commander, and gently grasped the commanders shoulder, "You look like you need a kip." Carlyle said, "Go to the mess, get yourself something to eat, and then grab a few hours in the bunks."

The commander tiredly smiled, and saluted, "Thank you sir, but who will remain in charge here?"

"I will, until Captain Hadley returns to duty," Carlyle replied, making a mental note to make shifts shorter. "Now go have a break for karks sake."

"Yes sir, understood sir!" the Commander relented, before briskly marching out of the control room. Carlyle continued pacing up and down the control room like an eagle, eyeing the screens of his subordinates. The Shadowtroopers of his personal bodyguard unit, Skull Six silently ghosted him.

"Admiral," One technician began, "We have something sir."

"And what is that?" Carlyle asked, moving towards the technician.

"The FIV Desire has just picked it up, a small freighter headed towards orbit sir." The technician reported. "It isn't on the arrival schedule." The young officer eyed the admiral, as did just about everyone in the room.

"Make contact with it," Carlyle ordered, "Force it to land here, and undergo inspection. The usual." Carlyle reported.

"And should they refuse?" The Signals Officer asked.

"Then we give them the usual," Carlyle began with a smirk, "A few blasts, and we'll sift through the ashes."

The Signals Officer nodded, before moving to his communications station, opening up a line that was broadcast across all channels in space, via the stormcloud assault cruisers in orbit. "Unidentified freighter, this is First Imperial Naval Command. The system you are entering is sovereign territory of the First Order." The technician stated, "You are ordered to give us your vessel designation, cargo, and destination."

[member="Trextan Voidstalker"] | [member="Taheera Sollo"]

Barkhesh Capital, Streets.

The files of Stormtroopers from the Ironguard march with a crunch to their step; It is uniform and precise matching the thud and hiss of the Malachor's long black legs as the Multiple AT-ATs, Repulsor Tanks and Troopers make their way down the street towards the entertainment district in song, Joan marching in front of the lumbering matte black walker alone. Officers would lead from the front or not at all she thought; Joan led without exception by example even with her left-arm visibly in a sling, she swings right-arm proudly with a column of hell following behind her through the winding city streets. It is a warning and show of force to any would-be martys or insurgents; The First Order is here now and the Civilians would learn to serve the Supreme Leader's vision or be crushed beneath their tread-covered boots. "They call us madmen on a leash!" Joan begins the verse.

"We're young men who know our way!" The entire Ironguard protests loudly in the street, following behind their Commander though their line of sight obscured by the Company's tanks and Walkers. Files of White-Armoured Troops with a coloured pauldron here and there, armed to the teeth and dangerous. Many a curious and frightened citizen watches from the sidewalk as the parade of man and machine dominates the street.

"The vision of Sieger Ren, we will bring to life!" Joan's diaphragm flexes and her annunciator shrieks the barely audible lyrics through the sound of humming engines and hissing hydraulics, prompting a most haunting chorus from the entire Ironguard and the Stormtrooper Officer herself. The young cower behind the old faced with such a sight; First Order flags hanging from buildings to welcome these ruthless and victorious Stormtroopers.

"Walkers on a line, form the Order's spine!
Lethal grand design!"
The chanting repeats, repeats and repeats. Off-duty Troopers and Navy Officers amongst the crowd give a round of applause and cheers to the decorated and veteran unit of the Stormtrooper Corps following its path down the street enthusiastically with the occasional bouquet of flowers or laurels landing in their path with a few of the Stormtroopers of the Ironguard namely "Hotshot" and "Machine" daring to try and catch them and tuck them between breastplate and bodyglove. FN-888
the units commander had been decorated on Kaeshana for bravery and promoted to lead the entire company as she does now even with an ostensibly broken arm she wears the crimson officer pauldron and full armour with pride.

[member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] [member="Trextan Voidstalker"] [member="Taheera Sollo"]
[member="Trextan Voidstalker"]

Silently, she caught Trex's gaze and gave him a pleading 'Help Me,' one in return before her eyes shifted back to Rigg's animated face. The long blue lines of hyperspace stretched in front of the viewport. Never ending, like his story.

Still, his smile was a bit charming. Maybe. Ugh, no. Not really.

"Wow. All the way to the lake? What happened to his clothes again?"

"Well it all had to do with that wookie named Mabalene-Daisy and she...," Riggs stopped his prattle as she held up one green index finger, turning her attention to the incoming feeds and navigation. "Trex," chestnut strands of hair whisked across her face as her head turned to the younger Voidstalker. "Got fresh reports coming in about security protocol the Order has set up for incoming vessels. Check it out, transferring to your station."

Index and thumb toggled down on the controls. Riggs shifted in his seat, trying to determine the appropriate time to pick up his story all the while, flashing Taheera an inappropriate look.

[member="FN-888"] [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"]
[media] [/media]​

Stormtroopers lead by their fearless commander [member="FN-888"] marched down the streets of the capital of Barkhesh or whatever this stupid planet's name was. Little did they know a storm was brewing, a storm that would take this entire planet and reduce it to nothing but space dust. Millions of lives snuffed out in an instant. For pure unbridled evil would swoop down and show now mercy to those who stood against it. And what was the name of this evil? Who was so cruel that they could go through with such terror?

A loud snore pierced the air from an alleyway and panning in hand covered in dried blood and holding a bottle of whisky shifted to reveal it was hanging out of a dumpster. As it moved through the air the bottle dropped and shattered against the concrete bellow. The beast has awoken.

"NO NOT THE LIVESTOCK!!" Shooting up like a bat out of hell Jonathan Slate sat up from his dumpster and looked around.

Realizing he had been tossed in a dumpster; the man moved his hand to his mouth to take a pull off the bottle he no longer possessed. Realizing it wasn't within his grasp anymore, and admittedly longer than it should of taken. Jonathan sighed and reached into his torn suit to grab a personal flask. Uncapping it he took a long swig and then belched afterwards.

"Alright then, let's do a bump!" Setting his flask back into its pocket, Slate shook his messy hair until a small packet dropped down into his hand.

Opening it he peeked inside to see that his collection of spice was gone. He was bone dry. When that sank in he didn't quite flip out yet, he knew a guy a little ways down the street. He had the dopest dope in the Galaxy and now Jonathan had a quest to go and get it. So accepting said quest he rolled out of his dumpster and started to walk down the street.

Failing to notice the protestors, stormtroopers, and other vital information. The junkie was in his own little world. His smelly dumpster smelling drug induced world.

Once he did make to his guy's door, he knocked and soon a woman answered and opened up to look at the man up and down. Wearing a torn suit covered in filth and blood, she realized that he probably wasn't a cop. But that wasn't going to change the situation.

"Ricki got picked up by the new law. Apparently these guys are cracking down." The woman said to Jonathan.

"No I'm afraid you are misunderstood. I'm here to see Ricki with an I. Not Ricky with a Y. So come on, where is he?" Not sure who named their kid Ricki, but alright.

"Yeah he got picked up." She responded once more.

"Wait. So what you're telling me is that Ricki with an I isn't here anymore? As in he's in jail? As in only Ricky with a Y is here? Because I'm just trying to wrap my head around this." Starting to slowly lose it, Jonathan started to tap his foot.

"He got pinched too." She said in a rather cautious tone.

In response, Jonathan let out a little bout of laughter. Tilting his head back a few chuckles bubbled out as it faded and he looked at the woman with a face that read he might be in the slightest bit of denial.

"Okay okay you got me, for reals bring out Ricki with an I. We've all had a good laugh now it's time to break out the drugs." With another laugh he gave the woman a pat on the shoulder.

"Foo I told you they both got picked up! The first order pinched them!" Shoving Jonathan's hand off her she took a step back.

There was an slight silence between the two for a moment, and then it was followed up by the sound of his world falling apart.

"So there's no dope? Like at all? Like the complete absence of drugs?" And in response to that, he was given a slamming of a door in his face.

As literally everything turned to background noise, Jonathan stepped down from the apartment steps and then went back out onto the streets passing ahead of [member="FN-888"] until he walked into a nearby convenience store vanishing into it.

[member="Trextan Voidstalker"] [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"] [member="Taheera Sollo"]

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