Early Release

[Progflaw99]

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Location: Endor, Wild Forest | Western Approach to Endor State Penitentiary​

Operation Early Release | The Rebellion | ATTN: The First Order​

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“How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.”​

~Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo​

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It had taken significant planning, plotting, and even a few failed attempts at reconnaissance but the information they'd managed to get seemed to be current. Of course, as they well knew, intelligence was more often than not - wrong. However, it was the best shot they had at freeing their comrade. Marston Krill had been captured by the First Order during the initial stages of their Galactic Mandate. As the trade lanes began to be more heavily patrolled and First Order worlds demanded visible identification of non-citizens, it was no surprise that Marston was compromised. Whether it had been defiance of the memo from the Minister of Security or perhaps just an oversight, the Rebel Commander had been scooped up during a smuggling run on the Galactic East side of Bakura. Since his arrest, Marston had been incarcerated on Endor, outside the reach of the Rebellion - until now.

Atlas hadn't been thrilled with the plan but he knew it was the closest they'd be able to get for who knew how long. With the First Order focusing its attention to their Galactic Southeast and the surprisingly well coordinated Coalition, a chink in their armor was opened however small. *Seize opportunity, lest it be lost.* The words of his grandfather echoed in his ears. Atlas hadn't been the only one who felt that way.

Their mission on the other side of First Order space had seen their uniforms and Imperial transport exhausted - they were on their own for this op. Luckily for the rebel crew, they had some of the most talented pilots this side of the verse. Men and women with more intimate knowledge of space and drive masking than most pilots and mechanics this side of the verse - who knew if it would stand up to Imperial scrutiny though. Atlas never liked to bet on luck.

The jig was thus: A single small freighter, suspiciously reminiscent of a rather famous YT model from ancient history. Drives masked to match that of a much smaller vessel, a small skiff at most. It would fool Imperial sensors long enough to get within orbit if they played their cards right. They wouldn't be passing off as an Imperial Shuttle or anything so direct, instead they'd bet on the fact that the planetary defense forces left behind due to the upscaling near the Coalition border were lazy and untrained. If that was the case, there was a chance they might not notice the small shuttle or they might let it pass, not bothering to mobilize what little they had in system.

[member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Lirranne Isaris"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | @The Rebellion

@The First Order | [member="The Major"]​

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OOC: Hey! Just looking to write a fun story about how we rescue an NPC I've created from the grips of the First Order. I hope this can be a fun thread for both our factions/members, and anyone else that decides to tag along. I ask that everyone be respectful to each other, and just let loose and have some fun! If I have misspoken in any of my narrative or incorrectly written something, feel free to let me know! I'm more than willing to work with you folks!

 

[Progflaw99]

“It was not well to drive men into final corners; at those moments they could all develop teeth and claws.”
― Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage​

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*More naked than a slinger without his belt.* At least, that's how Denn felt. Oh he had his gunbelt on but this wasn't his ship, it wasn't his idea, and it certainly wasn't his plan - fate had a funny way of giving you the finger though. Denn knew that all too well. Reluctantly he'd agreed to lend his hand at retrieving one 'Marston Krill' from the clutches of the First Order. Ideologically, he didn't have anything terribly damning against the First Order - well, except maybe their governance by law, their aggressive expansion, and elitism... Okay, so maybe he had more against them than he wanted to admit. In any case, by the end of the day, he found himself huddled aboard the Rebellion's small vessel as it arced towards Endor - and now, began to descend towards the planet.

Denn knew how these things were like to go. It would see them six feet under - if they were lucky. Amazing how much doubt there really was once you were already out of the frying pan, he could only hope they landed safely. The plan had been kept pretty vague except to the ringleaders. They all knew only what they needed to save the man named Atlas who'd seemed to be in charge of the small raiding party. Nervously the smuggler adjusted the belt at his waist, the DE-10 nestled there granting him a modicum of reassurance. With a noted drawl he broke the silence, eyes watching as the planet's surface began to fill the viewport.

"Sure looks purty from up this way, all the greens and browns. I've heard it's mostly forest, never been myself."​

 

[Progflaw99]

"Forest, Mountains, Valleys - it's a good thing we've brought speeder bikes. The terrain isn't friendly on foot. Hold onto your hats, we're coming in for the descent now. No movement on the scanners. Looks like either no one is home or at very least they're too lazy to pick us up." The thought generated a cautious smile on the pilot's face. For once it looked like maybe, just maybe they'd at least get to ground. Atlas didn't know much about Denn, only that he'd been a smuggler for years and finally had decided to put some skin in the game but he was happy for the help. A glance at the man's blaster told him all he needed to - the smuggler was comfortable around weapons.

"Adjusting course, keep an eye on the scanners would you? Atmosphere looks a bit rough." As if on cue the hull of the ship began to vibrate as they came into contact with the outer layer of Endor's atmosphere. White knuckled grip kept the controls steady despite the occasional buck and bounce, Atlas had to remind himself to breathe every now and then. The ol' bucket of bolts held together well enough though and in minutes they were cruising just above the treetops. Close enough and the First Order's scanners would have trouble pinpointing them - that and once they were on the ground they'd be all but invisible.

"Anyone see a good place to set down? We've got a long way to go and don't want a First Order patrol finding our ship while we're gone."

[member="Petra Vitalis"] | [member="Lirranne Isaris"] | [member="Kira Vaal"] | @The Rebellion

@The First Order | [member="The Major"]​

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[Progflaw99]

At the rebel pilot's prompting Denn had begun searching the scanners, eyes homing in on a few locations that might work for what they sought to accomplish. A copse to the North, a valley below, that's when Denn saw the perfect spot. Hand resting on the pilot's chair he looked out the viewport for what he'd seen on the scanner, a raised hand pointing.

"There's a small cavern system over that way, see that bluff? Just below it."​

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If the man looked carefully he might just see the shadow of a wide mouth, an entrance to a deep cavern system. They wouldn't be able to fit entirely inside the opening but the sheer face of the bluff above and the depressed cave entrance would scramble any sensor pings in the area - to find it, they'd almost literally have to be walking past it. Denn had a practiced eye for these things, years of smuggling granting him an almost supernatural ability to read the landscape, create advantages where there might not be one readily apparent.

"I'll go get the gear ready, just set us down gentle. Right?"​

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With that, Denn's bootsteps led him towards the rear of the craft, towards the cargo hold where they'd find the gear they had packed for the operation. Explosives, traps, even a few speeder bikes had been wedged into the cargo hold of the vessel. That's when the fun would begin. Nothing like the rush of adrenaline screaming through the trees brought on the back of a narrow speeder bike. *At least we won't be getting shot at - yet.* he thought to himself.

[member="Atlas Viridian"]​

 

[Progflaw99]

The pilot's eyes tracked across the landscape, trees whipping by along his peripherals. Latching on to the bluff pointed out by the gunslinger he looked to its base, the shadow of a cavern below only just visible. "Yeah, I see it. Nice catch cowboy." With a subtle careful manipulation of the controls he set them on course. If everything went smoothly from here they'd be on it in under a minute. Nervously Atlas glanced towards the vessel's scanners. "Still nothing on scopes, hopefully that's a good thing." Several moments passed before the 'Cowboy' made to depart the cabin, his request sending the corners of Atlas' lips to rise. "Oh, I'll set us down gentle don't you worry."

Treetops whipped by even closer as the vessel approached their landing point. Atlas' knuckles were white with exertion as he maintained their altitude. It wouldn't do to get picked up on scanners. Tied up though the First Order's bulk was, Atlas wasn't in the habit of leaving things to chance - this had to be perfect. Taking a deep breath in preparation, Atlas slammed the controls violently, twisting them about as the ship slid neatly into the cavernous space. Proximity alarms chirped, his stomach flopped, but as the thrusters brought the vessel to a halt Atlas breathed a sigh of relief. It was little matter to touch down, the quiet clank as the landing gear hit the cavern floor echoing. The whine of engines shutting down tapered off. They were here. Flipping a few more switches before he too left the cabin, Atlas grabbed his own gunbelt from a hook and began strapping it about his waist.

"This is where the fun begins." he mumbled.

[member="Denn Ralto"]​