Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Faction Future Wars [Farworlds Alliance]




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FUTURE WARS
Refuge
Zoro Igala Zoro Igala has invited the military council of the Farworlds Alliance to a test of skill, and a test of military tactics.

Zoro believed that while the Farworlds were not unified by tech or doctrine, they should be unified in a tactical sense. As such, an invitation was set.

Within the reconstruction zone, a room had been set up in an old warehouse. A holo-table large enough to simulate a decent sized engagement. The Dawn of Hope had been inputted into the system already, and Zoro awaited those who would follow.


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Fleet Comp:

Zoro sat in front the table, idly messing with the controls of the hologram table. Open Space was too boring. Instead, he had chosen the last place he had fought. The ruined asteroid belt of the Corellian system, now free of the context of everything around that battle. A simple asteroid belt, with enough space for manuvers, but not enough for large fleets to openly push on each other.

Zoro hoped that the naval commanders of the Farworlds Alliance would come soon. He wanted to gauge their effectiveness. Gauge what they'd do against an opponent alongside him.

He wanted to know who he was working with. Not just professionally, not just personally, but tactically.

 


A corvette would jump into allied space, transmitting a friendly signal. It was strange, mechanical components grafted into a large asteroid. A voice would ring out over the open allied channel.

<"Afternoon friends, or whatever time it is. This is the Freebird, reporting in. Don't got a fleet we're bringing with us, but we're eager to get a feel for where we fit into the wider formation. We'll be down to join you at the table shortly.">

Shem leaned back in the captain's chair aboard the bridge and grabbed hold of the juice box that sat in his cup holder and bringing the straw up to his beak. The curve of his mouth was turned grin as he looked out into space. He loved being out here. It was something truly breathtaking. He never got tired of that sight.

The Freebird would breech the atmosphere of the ringworld and head to the surface.


 
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Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Another ship with a friendly Ident code came into formation, a Mynock freighter. Getting into formation, Omen waited for the drill to begin. This was just another waste of time for him, something to test his skills before they were actually needed. And the Mynock was armed to bear with dummy missles and training lasers. Now, all there was to see if this lovely crate could keep up.

The Clone sent the signal who he was and that he was a friendly, deciding not to take the time to introduce himself over comms. They all would see each other soon enough. And so he headed down into atmosphere, wondering who he was about to meet.
 


AX-01 Vanguard Mark I | [Aether's Build]
Weapons : Training lightsaber x 6 | Hot 'n' Heavy Compensator War Maul
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Aether stepped into the warehouse with little sound for something so tall and dense.

The white-and-gold frame of the Iron Knight caught the cold spill of blue-hued light from the holo-table, blue optics settling over the ruined belt suspended in miniature.

Then his photoreceptors shifted toward those gathered.

"An interesting exercise," Aether said softly. "Minds against minds, tempered with experience and uncertainty, make for an intriguing measure of character. I look forward to seeing how each of you approaches the field, and how your strategies unfold beside one another."
 
Beltor Cyrus
Refuge.


The Grand old lady, a Providence restored, Hammer of the Free Worlds.

Those were nicknames often spoken by her crew as the Warspite and it's escorts hung over the world of Refuge. Beltor, for once, was not on his his ship. Beltor walked in to the room where this little game was set to be played. He was in more casual clothing, and while he would have had a lit smoke on his lips, he had elected to partake of his more friendly and fruity smelling vaporizer.

He had been been given a messaged before hand, and suitably had his fleet composition for BASRON-1 downloaded to his data pad.
 

Nyles Kote

Strill Securities Me'sene Tra'alor'an

Strill-Post-Banner.png



Friendly Units:
NF-01 Nano-flares loaded in countermeasure launchers fleet-wide.
Subvessels


Subvessels



Tag(s): Beltor "Bell" Cyrus Beltor "Bell" Cyrus | Aether of the Iron Order Aether of the Iron Order | Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen | Shem Spinner Shem Spinner | Zoro Igala Zoro Igala | Voice of Tenacity Voice of Tenacity

Equipment


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Refuge orbit

"Dropping out of hyperspace," came the announcement of his operations officer, Anni Jor. A holographic image of Refuge appeared on his display. He was just here, only having returned to the company fleet to test the new strategic battlenet

"What the shab do we need wargames, for, alor? We have system debugging to finish," complained Emri Kyrr, his XO, voicing the back and forth in his own mind. Her complaining did help put things in perspective for him.

Nyles raised his eyebrows, with his buy'ce clipped to his belt, she could very much see the expression that preceded what he was about to say, "You'd rather debug the new system?"

"I'd rather do something useful is all, alor," defended Emri, holding up both her hands in acquiescence.

"We need to find out how our allies fight, we're no use to each other till we can fight together," said Nyles as he put his buy'ce back on, grabbing his rifle from where it lay against his bridge station.

"Can we at least do this for real?" she asked as though denied some great honor, almost sounding genuinely offended that this was to be a simulated battle.

"And take the damage out of who's paycheck? Yours?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "Because I can tell you now it's not coming out of mine. Nu draar."

Emri scoffed, "Like haran I get paid enough for that."

Nyles let out a chuckle as they both made their way to the bridge's exit, "Then don't make expensive suggestion, vod, you don't even have to do the paperwork."

"Paperwork helps with perspective, though," she laughed in response.

"Wayii," sighed Nyles in response as they both continued making their way to the hangar. They both took their seats in relative silence in short order. The gunship that took them down to the surface touched down outside the warehouse, taking off a moment after the two of them got off.

"Work piled up, are we too late to join in?" he asked as he and Emri entered. Nyles glanced at the holotable before looking at the others present. It took Nyles a moment as he frowned under his buy'ce in recognition of the asteroid field on the display before he eased his buy'ce off and magclamped it to his belt.

 

Fleet Comp:

As people started piling in, Zoro smiled.
"An interesting exercise," Aether said softly. "Minds against minds, tempered with experience and uncertainty, make for an intriguing measure of character. I look forward to seeing how each of you approaches the field, and how your strategies unfold beside one another."
"One day soon we'll have to fight along one another. I'd rather trust we all know what we're doing than put faith into those I've never seen in combat. This will just give us a chance to do things without risk of idle eyes." Zoro always a bit paranoid at the idea of spies. That'd been drilled into him since his days at Anaxes.

But that had become even more evident with his men's infiltration of the flagship of one bald imperial who he wanted to keep a tactical advantage over at all costs.

"Work piled up, are we too late to join in?
"Lucky you, we're just starting. Seems we have a few people still piling in from orbit. I've got two hails from orbit of men coming in soon. Nice to finally meet you Nyles, my boss has told me that Strill does good work. Yet to see it with my own eyes, but I look forward to it."

Zoro paused as he looked to Beltor "Bell" Cyrus Beltor "Bell" Cyrus , blinking before a wide smirk filled his face, fangs flashing.

"Well Chit, is that Captain Cyprus, Anaxes's resident shut in?"



 


Shem entered the room finally, tossing a data fob onto the holotable. He sat down in one of the many chairs and kicked up his feet, juice box still in hand.

"Afternoon, fellas," he greeted. "Pleasure to meet you all... some of you for a second time."

The tall avian then turned his eyes to the box that Aether had procured.

"Fried dough?" Shem reacted, smelling the contents of the box clearly. "Mighty kind of you, King Slayer."


 

Laphisto

High Commander of the Lilaste Order
Laphisto had put off attending the simulation for as long as he reasonably could. The invitation had sat unanswered for days before he finally relented. Not because he saw much value in it, but because eventually enough people had insisted that his presence mattered. Whether it actually did remained up for debate. The second issue was harder to ignore. Due to Carbonite poisoning, he was basically blind. In battle, it rarely mattered. The Force compensated where his eyes could not, warning him of incoming attacks, guiding his movements through instincts sharpened by years of warfare. A battlefield was predictable in that regard. There was danger. There were threats. The Force responded. A training simulation filled with officers, strategists, and politicians standing around a holotable offered none of that.

With a sigh, he paused outside the doorway, one hand resting briefly against the frame before exhaling through his nose. Then he stepped inside. Conversation immediately washed over him. Voices overlapped across the room while boots shifted against deck plating and uniforms from a dozen different backgrounds moved around illuminated holoprojectors and tactical displays. His jaw tightened slightly as he took it all in. Soldiers were simple. Warriors were simpler. Put him in a barracks, a trench line, or the command deck of a warship and he could hold a conversation for hours. Jedi, diplomats, academics, and career-focused officers were another matter entirely. They all seemed to speak a language that had little to do with war and even less to do with survival.

Rather than linger near the entrance, Laphisto moved deeper into the room. The newly issued LO-60A armor carried a heavier profile than its predecessor, the reinforced plates producing a muted metallic rhythm against the floor with every step. Walking alongside him was his right-hand man, Commander Tarrian, The commander removed his helmet as they approached an empty holostation, tucking it beneath one arm while reaching for the controls. Blue light spilled upward from the console, bathing both figures as tactical interfaces flickered to life. the man relayed information to laphisto giving him sight in places he couldn't see.

Without ceremony, introductions, or attempts at conversation, the officer began entering fleet designations. One Edaar-class Star Destroyer. Three Air'mar-class Heavy Cruisers. Eight corvettes. Ship icons materialized above the table one by one, arranging themselves into formation as streams of tactical data scrolled across the projection. Laphisto rested both gauntleted hands against the edge of the console and angled his head toward the display. The glow reflected faintly across scarred armor plating and the dark lenses covering his damaged eyes.

Around him, conversations continued uninterrupted. Officers discussed deployments. Commanders compared force compositions. Others exchanged greetings and introductions. Laphisto offered none of his own. His attention remained fixed on the holographic fleet hovering above the table while the simulation continued to assemble around him. The force allocation was complete. The fleet was entered. For now, that was enough. Remaining silent, he stood beside the holotable and waited for someone to issue the first order.
 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Thankfully, the Jedi were just as sugar addicted as the rest of the galaxy. It would almost made sitting through this thing pleaseant. Nodding his thanks to the... Jedi Guard...? He was still getting used to being around so many Jedi on the daily again. Naming all their classifications was almost an impossible task.

As he looked at the glowing board of ships, he wondered what situation was going to be. It couldn't be too difficult. And so he waited for the ships to be distrubuted while looking around for the caf dispenser to go with this good piece of fried dough.
 

Nyles Kote

Strill Securities Me'sene Tra'alor'an

Strill-Post-Banner.png



Friendly Units:
NF-01 Nano-flares loaded in countermeasure launchers fleet-wide.
Subvessels


Subvessels



Tag(s): Beltor "Bell" Cyrus Beltor "Bell" Cyrus | Aether of the Iron Order Aether of the Iron Order | Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen | Shem Spinner Shem Spinner | Zoro Igala Zoro Igala | Voice of Tenacity Voice of Tenacity

Equipment


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Refuge orbit

"Lucky you, we're just starting. Seems we have a few people still piling in from orbit. I've got two hails from orbit of men coming in soon. Nice to finally meet you Nyles, my boss has told me that Strill does good work. Yet to see it with my own eyes, but I look forward to it."

"Pleasure's mine," said Nyles , extending his hand out in a traditional Mandalorian handshake, though an aruetii handshake in return would do fine. For the briefest of moments, he was surprised. He understood that most aruetii stood on ceremony. Well, most was not all. It was...a pleasant surprise. Then again, as far as a group of aruetii went, this wasn't a bad group at all.

Aether produced a small box from beneath his cloak, searching for somewhere proper to set it down. "I have brought sweet confections," he announced gently, "that we may share in camaraderie… and perhaps make the hour a little kinder."

"You had me at sweet confections," said Nyles, picking one up and passing it to Emri before picking one up himself. Nyles was about to cite the notorious Mandalorian sweet tooth when he cane the quick and sudden realization that perhaps it was more of a galactic phenomenon than he gave it credit for.

Of course, he wasn't sure what the galactic or even the culture-wide preferred beverage of choice to drink with a confectionary such as this was, but he was certainly reaching for his Thermajug of Spiced Caf with his left hand. His right reached up and removed his buy'ce, magclamping it to his belt.

"Afternoon, fellas," he greeted. "Pleasure to meet you all... some of you for a second time."

The tall avian then turned his eyes to the box that Aether had procured.

"Fried dough?" Shem reacted, smelling the contents of the box clearly. "Mighty kind of you, King Slayer."

"Is that what shabla time it is?" Nyles asked no one one in particular, as though paying attention to the chrono on his HUD for the first time.

"Who can keep track anymore, alor," replied Emri from beside him in Mando'a. "Between all the worlds we find ourselves on and ship time."

Nyles nodded in agreement before taking a glance at the entrance as Sergeant Omen Sergeant Omen entered. "Olarom, vod," he said with a smile, "The alor speaks highly of you." He extended his hand in a traditional Mandalorian handshake out to Omen.

 

Fleet Comp:

"So, fleet games, what are the rules?"
"Right!" Zoro clapped his hands, looking across the room. Mandalorians, Former GA, Droids, former Rebels, and Clones. What a collection of misfits. "So, rules. Here's how I see it. We've got an odd number of people, but that's fine. We'll be assembling teams, each of you will be given ten thousand meters to play with. All ships will have the capabilities of their real counterparts. The holotable is set to the last battlefield I fought on, the Corellian Rings. We'll be dealing with hazards, because an open space is oh so boring."

Zoro finally plugged in his fleet chip, showing his full compliment.

"Once you plug in, there's no switching out. We'll be acting as if we're all aware of our entering the system and the general tonnage of what is gonna be arriving, though any stealth capabilities will be considered wild cards once in system. Ships will be considered invisible until spotted, fog of war and all. I've configured it so that we won't be able to see each other's ships until spotted once the game is engaged."

 

Sergeant Omen

Arc Trooper Sergeant of the 41st Elite Corps
Well, this seemed easy enough. The Clone surveyed the battlefield being displayed over the table as the Cather laid out the rules of engagement. Omen only had one question. "Are there any faction restrictions, or is anything we can find on the holonet fine?" If any ship was allowed, he was sure he could try to make some sort of formation that made sense. Hopefully whoever he was teamed with had their own ideas that meshed with his.
 

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