Dominion Isolation | First Order Dominion of Red Nebula

[Gunnar Madine]

​

Here they were again, and still. Their first foray into the void wastes of Red Nebula had gone well, reclaiming a former hold and securing a particularly obscure location from which to house FOSOC assets. Everything was as it should have been and yet Gunnar found himself on edge. A report had been tendered to the FOSOC Commander that had sent chills running down his typically unshakeable spine.

SCAN SECTOR AUREK-9 REPORT
FINDINGS: AFFIRM
SUSPECTED FIRST ORDER VESSEL. RESURGENT CLASS TYPE I. 850 GSY Series.
VESSEL CONSISTENT WITH FIV VIRULENT, PATROL ROUTE MATCH.
UNABLE TO CONFIRM LIFEFORM SCAN. NO POWER DETECTED IN MAIN REACTOR.

By itself the report meant little beyond the suggestion that the hull of a former First Order vessel had been found floating about in a new section of Nebula they'd scanned. It wasn't that which bothered the Special Operations Command Officer but the date and all that it implied. During the previous rise of the First Order, Mephout and Seoul had underwent hardship and horror due to the Blackwing virus and the FIV Virulent had gone missing just weeks before. Of course, there would be no data stream or trail that could prove that the First Order had been involved in the infection of the two planets as some dark experiment and he highly doubted that was the case but the disappearance of the Virulent was suspect in and of itself. Suspect enough to include multiple branches of the First Order war machine, and even some not officially recognized, in this operation. FOSOC of course would take the lead responsibility, the vicinity of the apparent derelict hull not that far from their new space station within the nebula but all the participants were well briefed on the mission and it's objectives. No power had been picked up eeking off the reactor which meant that was their number one priority. The Resurgent-Class wasn't exactly known for its small size and traversing the vessel without power lifts would take them far longer than they could afford. There was a small auxiliary hangar near engineering, the task force would need to insert there allowing for the shortest amount of foot travel - from there they'd split off into their teams and towards their separate objectives.

One team would be responsible for the portable micro-reactor. Even dormant, provided the reactor on the Virulent still worked, they'd need the extra power to jump start the process. Another team would split off towards the Primary Lab module. Any records or data they could seize from the memory cores would ensure that none of the research conducted on the ship fell into the wrong hands. Likewise, a team would move to secure the bridge. It was doubtful based on the exterior damage that the Virulent was spaceworthy which meant the current command was to scuttle the ship. Unfortunately these controls were locked to the Bridge - a far hike if they didn't get the lifts running. It was perhaps the final piece that concerned the FOSOC officer the most. A glance at the manifest list of the fated Resurgent-Class indicated that there had been a unique individual aboard. An individual whose allegiance had been solely to the former Supreme Leader - a Knight of Ren. It wasn't fear that created Gunnar's concern but as their former Supreme Leader had been, the Knights of Ren were fanatics dedicated to a cause and that made them unpredictable. A variable he didn't feel comfortable leaving to his men alone... which is why he'd engaged the Knight Commander of the First Order's own Imperial Knights. They would be providing support as well as on the hunt for any remainder of the long dead apostates of Ren.

Staff Notes/Intent:

This is not a DM'd thread, however there are certain story elements that will become apparent throughout the roleplay process and I will be providing some overarching narrative via my posts. If you need help getting involved, let me know and I'm more than willing to expand the scope or even work with you to make your stories work in this setting! For the purpose of this thread, all parties will be starting by disembarking the shuttle in a small auxiliary hangar located "Close" to Engineering/Reactor. Feel more than free to include narrative bits about the journey or flight there but all of the posts should begin from the disembarkation into a dark, empty, derelict hangar of the Resurgent-Class Star Destroyer.

If you have any questions or would like clarification, please reach out! Have fun!

P.S. If you would like, you can BYOO but please work with staff so we can make sure the faction narrative doesn't collide with yours!

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

​

Arrival at the Hangar Bay was quick and silent, from here the various assembled teams would split up. ​

• Primary Labs
• Engineering
• Bridge

The Virulent had been a unique setting among the Resurgents that Bennethus Tanileu had gotten to know in her time with the First Order. Refitted for science and research as opposed to war, it sat a drift within the Red Nebula. A vast and somewhat expansive wasteland as far as Tanileu was concerned. Their task wasn't exactly simple and the Virulent wasn't exactly small, but FOSOC would take point and it meant that the girl from Gilaria would be part of the point teams. Their first task would be to determine if the vessel was in fact the Virulent, the second would be to search and recover any survivors. ​

​

They would then have to restore power and acquire data cores. The fact that the Blackwing was even mentioned in the briefing, left Tanileu with chills up and down her spine. It wasn't the First Order's first rodeo with the diseases and it in fact would not be the last. She radioed that in that she would take her team to the Bridge to verify the ship's identification. Unfortunately there had yet to be a vaccine that could effectively deal with the Blackwing and perhaps that was in part due to its darkside nature. ​

​

That thought though would have to lay buried within Tanileu's mind as she moved her team out of the auxiliary hangar. The darkness already made the place feel eerie, and creeped out was an absolute understatement. ​

​

​

​

​

 

[Vakim Duval]

Objective 1:

Location: Hangar Bay of the FIV Virulent, escort VIPs
Troops: 48 Stormtroopers of the 12th Unattached 'Storm' Platoon
Equipment: F-11D blaster rifles, SE-44C blaster pistol, stun grenades, First Order White Stormtrooper Armor.
With: Resurgent Narrative FO​

A shiver went down the spine of Leitenant Vakim Duval as he stepped down inside the Hangar Bay of the abandoned FIV Virulent. It wasn't often that he was spooked, but this place was spooky. The Resurgent-Class was a massive ship normally bustling with life and light. This place was quiet, derelict. Duval looked over to his men and saw several of them already had their blasters up and helmet lights on. They looked spooked as well.

"Boys there's no time for us to think about what went down here or what we've all heard. We are here to keep the doctors and higher-ups safe. Stick to your assignments and remember your duty always. Always."

The men responded to his instructions almost out of reflex. On the long flight in, they had plenty of time to go over the general plan as well as their escort assignments. They moved now with their well-known efficiency and professionalism. Even here on this abandoned and cursed ship the Platoon would carry out their orders. They broke up now into escort squads of four. The 12 separate squads each being assigned to one of the various members of the Medical and Military staff or VIPs as they had been designated that were to actually carry out the specifics of the mission. The Storm Platoon's primary objective here was not to gather the data or find survivors. It was to keep these VIPs safe. They were here to focus on that task and that task alone. Duval had drilled it into them over and over again on the way. Stick to your VIPs. Remember your mission. Do not get sidetracked. They had seemed to have sensed the urgency in his orders as already they had split up onto their assignments.

"All squads report in ready."

In seconds he had confirmation from all twelve squad leaders that their escorts were in place. Indeed the men knew what they were doing. Their professionalism and efficiency might just keep everyone on this cursed mission safe. Duval himself now moved into his own position with First Squad. Their mission was the protection of Bennethus Tanileu. Duval would personally oversee this protection assignment and he quickly took pace alongside Ms. Tanileu. He gave her an abrupt salute before speaking directly outside his comm to her.

"Lt. Vakim Duval. My men have taken up their escort assignments. May I suggest we get underway?"

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

She hated the stormtrooper already, then again, she supposed it came with the territory of being in a joint op. "Knock it off, trooper," she damn near scolded in a hushed tone. "My name stays dead, officially, you're not on this op. Chite goes sideways, you don't wanna be here." Special Operations Command would make their report and it wouldn't be in anyone's favor." Tanileu continued down the corridor, "appreciate your support anyway." An afterthought, while Tanileu moved forward.

Flashlights down only illuminated a small portion of the corridor. What she did see, just made everything that much more eerie - there was an unnatural silence to the place. The Gilarian girl hated every second of it. At this point, she would rather be back jumping out of shuttles into the void going right for some kriffing pirate.

Nope here she was, on a derelict resurgent that had been outfitted for science, and so she took a deep breath and exhaled. "Bridge should be up this way, lifts are out so we're climbing." Tanileu gestured toward the lift and slid her rifle behind her. The sound of the rifle locking into place nearly startled her, however, she kept her calm. She forced open the lift doors and shined a light from her gauntlet on the ladder. "There, we go up."

Vakim Duval ​

 

[Firenne Van-Derveld]

OBJECTIVE 1
Tag: Vakim Duval | Resurgent Narrative
Gear: Light battle armor | Lightsaber | Tactical Karambit
Muse Soundtrack: Dan Vasc "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher (Cover)"​

She'd seen some gloriously eerie things during the mission on Mephout, from ancient curses to the dead rising from their graves and a new outbreak of the Blackwing virus. It had been a disaster from the beginning, and their strength had been found in adapting to the rapidly deteriorating situations that had unfolded around them. Being aboard the FIV Virulent, with the situation as tenuous as it was, reminded her of it.​

It was quiet.​

​

Too quiet, and the canine half of her soul did not like it in the least.​

​

Her nose wrinkled as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, glowing faintly with any bit of light that came across them. She breathed deeply and frowned, eyeing the back of Tanileu's head then tilting her head to take in each of the troopers arrayed around them. Aside from the scents of the team and their gear, the ship itself was almost devoid of them, save for a peculiar acrid bitterness that lingered. She simple nodded and checked her gear one last time before they left the security of the hangar bay, moving into the abandoned corridors of the ship as they headed toward the bridge.​

There was so little mechanical sound outside of that which they themselves generated, and it was disconcerting as they stopped just outside the turbolift doors. Her head tilted in a very canine gesture as she simple concentrated on listening, thankful for the groups brief silence before they pried open the doors and determined the next course of action. Flickers of the Force scratched along the edge of her senses and retreated, as if something were testing her abilities or her alertness, and slipped away before she could get a fix on it.​

Firenne kept her assertion that something wasn't right to herself. The others didn't need the Force or her to tell them that. Each person was experienced and capable in their own right, and she remained silent until Tanileu spoke. They were climbing. Wonderful.​

It was something she could at least deal with, she mused, adjusting her fingerless gloves and allowing her hands to partially shift. Bones cracked somewhat audibly as they rearranged themselves, fingers lengthening and becoming something of a hybrid between the claws of a wolf and a human hand. A half smile curled her lips as she stepped forward to peer up into the empty shaft.​

"Lift is below us, I can just see some of the mechanisms on the top. If there are no objections, I'll bring up the rear...I can catch anyone who might fall and if this thing spontaneously decides to work stopping it will be feasible for me." Firenne said softly, and stepped back to allow the others the space they would need. She hoped they had all been briefed on her dual nature, she mused absently, otherwise the moment she let her wolf out things were going to become even more complicated than they already were with the situation.​

 

[Ryker Atreides]

LOC:
AUXILIARY HANGAR | FIV VIRULENT
RESURGENT CLASS STAR DESTROYER
-
​

Ryker and his soldiers were some of, if not the best. Accordingly, they'd disembarked and immediately secured the ventral auxiliary hangar of the refitted starship. Once satisfied with their assessment the task force had moved on, each team heading towards their objectives. They weren't on a clock per se, but the Storm Commando would feel better if they didn't linger longer than absolutely necessary. Afraid, he wasn't - but the veteran commando couldn't deny the subtle unease scratching at the back of his mind. :: Weapons lights on, call out contacts. Keep your teams tight :: he said over their internal comms. A quick hand motion sent them all on their way, snaking through the corridors.

The light armor the commandos wore aided itself well to their quick pace. In minutes they'd located a primary turbolift shaft. "This is the right one." he said. "We didn't bring climbing gear - Engineering team should have the reactor up quick, that'll make this trip a lot less painful." Behind the faceplate of his helmet his eye twitched. "Those look handy." he nodded at the Imperial Knight accompanying them. What he would give to be able to add that to his personal armory. :: Status update Engineering team. :: A moment or two passed, Ryker raising his hand towards the others in the group. They couldn't see it but he seemed to know something the others didn't by the smile hidden behind the visor. Seconds later a low frequency hum vibrated the deckplates beneath their feet, dim combat lighting flickering to life and casting an eerie sheen of crimson across the polished bulkheads. "Might wanna take a step back there killer." Stepping over to the control panel he queued a lift, machinery whirring and humming as the lift was whisked to their station. "We owe those guys a drink when we get back." he said, eyeballing the ladder climbing into eternity one last time. As the car settled into place and the doors shuddered in their holdings, Ryker motioned with the barrel of his blaster. "Ladies first."

Firenne Van-Derveld | Resurgent Narrative | Vakim Duval​

 

[Acheron]

H u n g e r

As a rat gnawing at bones it was the only thing he could feel, the only sensation. It was nearly his entire existence now. Grinding teeth gave way to fresh blood, mottled flesh sloughing from the man's pallid cheek. A sickening squelch echoed in the near pitch black chamber he occupied. An inquisitive tilt of his head sent further small droplets of blackish fleck to the deck plating. It wasn't hunger that had awoken me. The realization began activating often inactive neural pathways, a mind behind the hunger fighting and clawing to the surface. Acheron. That is my name. Yes. It is. The man almost had to convince himself, so long had the mind lain dormant - nay, not dormant. Buried. Secluded. Along with the man's consciousness rising to the top, so also did his other senses. The pitch black of the chamber, the sour taste of stale and rotten blood, and the smell of... flesh. Not the dour, rotting flesh of his own body but something fresh. Something fully alive. A violent twitch sent his eyes aflutter. He could feel the sickness, taste it... it was coming for him but perhaps there was a way out.

The Force was a tricky animal, some could conceal their presence in it, others simply floated by in obliviousness. Acheron had long lost the capability to intentionally control it, a measure of the sickness which plagued him only amplified by the seclusion and years of survival in such a state on such a vessel as the FIV Virulent. Sensing however he had grown adept at, able to practically cast his net across the entire hull of the derelict Resurgent-class. Had he been more than what he was now, a shattered and broken.. a corrupted being, he might have once considered it a feat. Now it was nothing but pure survive. And hunger. Don't forget about me.

A rasp, almost rattling voice uttered quietly. "I won't."

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

​

Tanileu pulled herself up out of the lift's shaft, she winced a bit and moved her fingers out and then back into the palm of her hand. Rising to her feet shortly thereafter, "this is the level where the bridge is, and according to the schematics we go this way." Tanileu and her team that included Duval and Knight Firenne pushed down the corridor. Flashlights on as she swept the corridor with the light, it was just way too quiet for her liking and it made her wonder just what would happen when the lights were on.​

​

"Let's just be glad it didn't suddenly decide to work when we were in there," quipped Tanileu out of the side of her mouth to the Knight. A sigh as she tried to think of how to get into the bridge. "There should be a manual release on the doors themselves if not, then we can figure something out, I guess." Or, ask the Knight to apply some of that space wizard magic to get the doors open, there was always that. "Just can't shake the feeling that it's just too quiet around these parts."​

​

Honestly, she probably shouldn't be talking, but she was nervous and most likely Tanileu wasn't the only one. What she hadn't been expecting however was that the Knight-Commander Marionne Roule had accompanied them, "if the Force is right, then you should certainly keep that feeling. I fear there is something aboard that is dark that lurks here."​

​

Vakim Duval | Firenne Van-Derveld ​

​

 

[Vakim Duval]

Objective 1:

Location: Inside FIV Virulent, escort VIPs
Troops: 48 Stormtroopers of the 12th Unattached 'Storm' Platoon
Equipment: F-11D blaster rifles, SE-44C blaster pistol, stun grenades, First Order White Stormtrooper Armor.
With: Resurgent Narrative FO
​

Vakim Duval's eyes rolled hard within his helmet. Intelligence operatives were notoriously serious beings. Most Stormtroopers feared the intelligence operatives, especially the field operatives. The 12th Storm weren't most stormtroopers. Duval and his men had been on numerous missions with Intelligence operatives before the original fall of the First Order. They were continuing that tradition now. The Intelligence branch wasn't technically over the Stormtrooper Corp and this operative was not his superior. At least not in any direct way.

"If this chite goes sideways you'll be glad the stormtrooper corp is here."

Duval grabbed the rung of the ladder and followed behind his assignment. There wasn't much time for petty rivalry here. He hoped she remembered that. The climb was a lot farther than Duval had anticipated and his arms began to wear out by the time they got to the top. He flexed and moved his arms to gain more blood flow as he pulled himself upright.

"Hopefully intelligence is correct. Let's move out."

He was anxious. The place was too quiet. To void of life and motion to be this size. It was like the emptiness and size of the vessel swallowed any sounds and provided instead only a deep and dampening silence. All that could be heard was what was happening directly in front of him. He didn't like it. The dark, dry, quiet was very off-putting. He focused once again on the mission as he and his squad of stormtroopers began to sweep down the hallway. He just hoped it was all clear.

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel crouched next to her bag, double-checking inventory. There was nothing more to do until the reactor came online and activated the turbolifts and the power doors. She didn't bring her climbing gear, and why would she when they had an engineering team that, given the time, would be able to get the power going lickity-split? She continued checking her bag until she was satisfied that her equipment was accounted for, then stood and slung the bag over her back, working her shoulders through the straps. She cinched them so that the bag lay nearly flush against her frame.

"Not long now, I expect," she murmured to Aurelian Dash and The Major , and sure enough a few moments later there was a rumbling in the bowels of the ship, then a gentle thrumming filled the air as the emergency lights were replaced with the standard lighting. "Brilliant." When the others had completed their assessments of their equipment, she led the way to the turbolift. After consulting with the legend, she selected the appropriate item for the laboratory deck.

"On a scale of one to ten," Isobel said, glancing at her compatriots, her glossy ponytail whipping over her shoulder. "How kriffed do you think think things will get down here?" They had all seen what the Blackwing Virus was capable of, and if the scientist that had been studying it was aboard this ship, there was no reason to assume it hadn't broken loose here, just as it had on Alpinn. In any event, they were about to find out. The turbolift slowed, then stopped, and with a soft, melodious bing the doors slid open.

Silent. Empty. Two things the main thoroughfare of a First Imperial Resurgent-class Star Destroyer should never be, even on a specialized deck like this one. Isobel shivered violently and stepped off the turbolift.

 

[Firenne Van-Derveld]

OBJECTIVE 1
Tag: Ryker Atreides | Vakim Duval | Resurgent Narrative
Gear: Light battle armor | Lightsaber | Tactical Karambit
Muse Soundtrack: Disturbed "The Sound of Silence"​

The quiet that blanketed her senses when she reached out was almost deafening, in a way. Firenne glanced away from the others and hoped no one noticed the fleeting expression of unease and discomfort that flickered across her features. She breathed deeply and gathered herself back once more as the second commando team arrived to the turbo lift. She was paused at the entrance of the turbolift shaft, watching the last of the first group scale the embedded ladder up to the bridge deck.​

Canting her head as they approached, the Sentinel lofted a brow before a slow smile curled her lips. Lifting one of her altered hands she winked at the commando in the lead as she spoke. "You should see what else I can do." her words emerged with a faint rumble behind them, that ought to have emanated from a frame burlier than her slender one. Her expression was distinctly Lupine in spite of her human features, until it smoothed out and she stepped back as asked.​

Firenne blinked as the sound reached her ears and the lift slowly ascended to their level. She reached out through the Force to Marionne, ensuring everyone was out of the turbolift shaft up above now that power had been at least partially restored. Pausing as her senses still ranged outwards after withdrawing from contact with the Knight-Commander, she blinked, a hand pressed to the door frame of the 'lift, the faintest growl slipping past her normally careful, tight control.​

"Something doesn't feel right. I don't like this." she muttered, casting a glance at the commando leading the group arrayed beside her. "I know I don't have to ask you to be on alert or anything, you're already amazing at your jobs, but please keep your guard up. Something's wrong and I can't pinpoint what it is. It even smells wrong." Firenne echoed softly, before shaking her head as if she were in her wolf form, and stepping into the now-waiting turbolift with a soft 'thank you'.​

 

[The Major]

“Let’s put it this way. . .” Sybil chirped up, responding to point girl Isobel Nakano while covering both her and Aurelian Dash ’s rear. Every ventilation shaft, every bulkhead divider, every locker, and every opening into a hallway was another horrible uncertainty to check. On a ship like this there were dozens of ambush spots literally plaguing the deck, perfect dank little holes for a creature to wait for its meal. Gods, Shepard hated ships, and she hated space. Blackwing virus just multiplied the threat level that would give any reasonable person pause. Another day in the greatest job in the galaxy.

“. . .if they maul me, hit me with a detonator or blast me in the head. Please don’t let me get eaten alive.” She set her repeating blaster rifle to its highest energy setting; the weapon would be chewing through power packs. No problem. Plenty of extra ammo was hefted in her large rucksack. Though it did occur to her that if the entire crew complement of the Virulent was infected like those poor souls on Alpinn, then. . .

Sybil made a mental note to save at least one thermal detonator for herself if she was cornered and the last trooper standing. She shuddered as her hand patted the device clipped to her belt.

“Call that an eight, if ten is high. What do you two reckon?” The deck groaned and pinged, the sound as loud as a wail since everything was so quiet.

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

"If chite goes sideways, nobody will know and this operation never happened. This means your unit dies with nothing more than a quiet whisper in the dark," the blunt words of the Spec Ops agent struck across the silence. "Manual release is here, let's get this open." She and another member of her team worked, hand in hand the sound of their ability felt like an echo in a cave. It was only the sound of the mechanical hiss that told anyone they were successful. Tanileu and the other pushed back the doors and a third member of her team shined a light onto the eerily quiet, and dark bridge.​

​

Knight-Commander Marionne Roule's brow furrowed. "It's like they just vanished," there were no outward signs of a struggle. Just a blacked-out bridge that felt colder than it should have. The hairs on the back of her next stood up, quietly she observed the Special Operations team and the Stormtroopers fan out across the bridge. ​

​

"We're looking for anything that will confirm that this is the FIV Virulent," Tanileu remarked as she swept her flashlight down into the trenches of the bridge. Sounds of boots hitting the lower floor were like a black cacophony of music telling of what lurked ahead of them. ​

​

Meanwhile, the Knight-Commander walked closely to Firenne. "Reach out with the Force, and tell me if what you feel is the dark stench we felt earlier."​

​

Vakim Duval | Firenne Van-Derveld ​

 

[Acheron]

The gnawing hunger had turned to an almost soured burn in the pit of the man's stomach. The clarity of his mind had muddled as his lazy footsteps propelled him through the now partially lit corridors, the combat lighting somewhat disorienting. A base instinct had risen to the surface, a desire to feed. He could smell them clearly now, sense them even. With each step he grew closer, with each step he gave in just a little bit more.

-

Stormtroopers had been dispatched to various parts of the ship, the small task force working towards their ultimate goal - to scuttle the ship. It meant they'd broken off into smaller teams. More vulnerable. The engineering team had managed to get the reactor started up but beyond that there wasn't much to be gleaned off the consoles except the logs and even those were encrypted. "We'll need to get these back to the shuttle. Trooper!" one of the officers pointed. "Grab a partner and get those memory cores to the ship. We'll be right behind you." Without complaint the indicated trooper slapped on of his fellows on the shoulder, grabbed two of the memory cores and began shuffling down the corridor. His comrade followed in tow. Meanwhile, that left only the officer and two other stormtroopers in Engineering. The Officer was busy tapping away at an engineering console while the two troopers milled about. "Pretty quiet huh?" asked one. "Are you serious right now?" replied the other. "You seriously dropped the Q word. Just like that?" He shook his head. The two exchanged small talk for a few minutes, distracted as the Officer below continued monitoring the screen.

:: Labs team, what's your status? :: he inquired over the comm. :: Power seems to be inconsistent in that part of the ship, must be due to the damage we saw on our way in. :: he warned. That was the last thing to go out over the comms, the next noise issuing from the Officer's mouth a blood curdling scream.

-

Two strong hands gripped the Officer's shoulders, blood stained teeth sinking into his exposed neck before wrenching free. Flesh and tendon were ripped and torn from the man's body, his screams fading away - replaced by a cough and then a gurgle as life passed through the man's eyes and towards the void. Huddled atop the Officer's body was Acheron, his own bloodstained cloak now covered in a fresh scarlet. The taste, the smell, the sensation of the blood sent Acheron into an involuntary convulsion. So long had he gone without sustenance, sustaining himself merely by force of will... and the hatred. Ever present hatred. Yes. Feed. Regain your strength. Even as his body began to regain some of its strength Acheron knew that wasn't all he needed. It wasn't all he wanted. There were others aboard, he could feel their presence. Others gifted with the Force. A raspy cough turned into laughter as he thought on that word - gift. Acheron's wandered musings were interrupted, the shrill sound of a blaster rifle being fired and the impact and burn of his corrupted flesh drawing him back into the present.

The acrid smell of burnt and sickened flesh washed over him, the pain threatening to overwhelm his diminished constitution but he would not give in. His reaction was one of instinct, dirty and bloody palm extending violently towards the blaster bolt's source. Turning his palm upwards, Acheron curled his fingers into a fist. Another scream pierced the air inside the Engineering compartment, this time airing partially on the task force comms. The trooper's armor had shattered, buckled, and broken. Blood spilled out onto the floor as his body made a few jerking motions before falling completely still.

-

Why did he have to say the Q word... why... why... The last trooper's mind was wracked with fear. He'd heard the first scream from below, the second had been that of his fellow trooper not five meters away. Fortunate that he'd jumped behind a large console at the first but now all he could do was stare solemnly at the carcass of what had been a squadmate only moments before. :: T-there's something in here with us. :: he whispered over the comms. :: I-It's.. oh no.. no please! :: A burst of static preceded by a vibrant hum ended the communication as the comms fell dead.

Acheron stood tall over the now decapitated trooper, crimson lightsaber blade cackling and popping. Welling deep within he could feel the hunger, the rage, the drive to kill. These poor souls had no idea what they had just awakened.

Resurgent Narrative | Firenne Van-Derveld | Vakim Duval The Major | Isobel Nakano​

 

[Aurelian Dash]

T E R R O R
-
​

"I don't like this." he said for probably the hundredth time. Narrowed eyes peered out from behind the clear eye sockets of his respirator. Not only were they aboard a derelict wreck, but one that most likely had been infected with Blackwing Virus. It sent his stomach turning, not a small feat for such a veteran field agent. The holos they'd seen of the virus' effects... absolutely horrifying. It didn't help that up till now everything had been... so deathly silent. There had been a gentle vibration of the deck plating and a pop and fizzle in the combat lighting as the reactor came online but now aside from the occasional sparking conduit there was nothing. "Oh there is no doubt in my mind that whatever hell we find here is one worse than we could imagine on our own." Aurelian hadn't been present for the spread of the infection on Mephout or Seoul under the previous iteration of the First Order but he'd seen the briefings and heard the tales. Always remember to keep your blaster handy. If he were to get infected... there was only one way out.

As they stepped off the turbolift a burst of static cut across the all comms channel. Pausing where he stood, Aurelian reached up as if to push the comm tighter into his ear before his hand jerked violently away. "Aughhh!" he shouted, the shrill sound of a scream cut off. "What the.." He looked to his companions. "What was that?" Nervously his eyes darted down the corridor, red lighting reflecting ominously off the dull sheen of the bulkheads. "That can't be goo.." Before he could finish, another noise drew his attention - the sound of bulkheads opening echoing down the thoroughfare. "We better get a move on, whatever that is it doesn't sound good. Let's go!" he pointed in the direction of their objective, cautiously eyeing the rear as they advanced.

The Major | Isobel Nakano​

 

[Vakim Duval]

Objective 1:

Location: Inside FIV Virulent, escort VIPs
Troops: 48 Stormtroopers of the 12th Unattached 'Storm' Platoon
Equipment: F-11D blaster rifles, SE-44C blaster pistol, stun grenades, First Order White Stormtrooper Armor.
With: Resurgent Narrative FO
​

Duval and his troopers clung to their assignments, watching over them as they searched the bridge for their intelligence assignments. Their flashlights and headlights lighting up the dark area like beacons. The comm had remained mercifully silent for most of the mission. No news was generally good news in an operation like this. As they searched the bridge Duval made sure he had easy access to all his weaponry. This place was down right creepy. The power burst on as emergency lights switched to main power. They must have had succe..

..A static burst on the all comms channel? He must have imagined it. His nerves..

No, there it was again. He switched to the channel and listened intently...

Screams. Terror. They ran through his body like a flash of lightning.

He switched back to the twelve's comm channel.

"All Units. High Alert. Contact on the comms. Unsure locations. Power is restored for now. Report in status immediately. Prepare to fall back to the bridge and secure high-level VIPs."

A chill ran through his spine as he gripped his blaster.

"Get the heavy repeaters set up in defensive points on the bridge. And if you intel folks could move with a little jump in your step I think that would be most wise."


Duval hated this. His men moved out and set up their defenses as best they could. Scattered check-ins were flowing in on the comms so far none of his men were reporting contact. But several were now reporting that they could hear sounds from most of the surrounding areas. The ship seemed to have come alive with the power. Now all they could do is wait. Wait and perform their duties. Duval gripped his blaster tightly.

 

[Firenne Van-Derveld]

OBJECTIVE 1
Tag: Ryker Atreides | Vakim Duval | Resurgent Narrative
Gear: Light battle armor | Lightsaber | Tactical Karambit
Muse Soundtrack: Metallica "Of Wolf And Man"​

​

If she had been in her canine form, her fur would have bristled and her stance would have little to the imagination. By the time they had joined the others on the way to the bridge, she could feel the Force trembling with anticipation as threads of darkness slithered out of the metaphorical shadows. The real shadows in their vicinity disappeared as the systems came back online, providing the desperately needed illumination for their jobs to be completed.​

​

Still, Firenne could not have prevented the low, warning growl that rumbled out of her in response, which the Knight-Commander arched a brow at before speaking to her relatively quietly. She breathed deeply and nodded, the distaste on her features obvious. "It is the same to my senses as well." she rumbled quietly, shaking her head once more, her dark eyes narrowing as she did so. "It reminds me of the past. That combination of darkness, corrupted Force, and madness...but this one is something more."​

Canting her head to the side in a very canine gesture, she was about to speak but the comms lit up in several brief bursts in the mean time, cutting her words off with clips of bloodcurdling screams. Firenne stiffened, half transformed hands curling into malformed fists as she centered herself and maintained her control. "Something...someone is hungry. I would know that sensation almost anywhere. It's feral. Desperate. Starving."​

"Knight-Commander, I understand this. I'm going to go hunt it down." she said with relative calm, nodding as she stepped back and allowed herself to shift. From her slender, armored form erupted a mass of muscle and black fur, bones snapping and rearranging audibly as she opted for swiftness over delicacy. She shook herself briefly, settling the matte grey chain around her neck, the First Order sigil etched into a medallion fastened to it.​

///Comms are still in place so I can hear everyone. Mindlink is open as well./// Firenne sent gently, taking a moment to orient herself, head lifted as she took several deep breaths, leaving her senses fully free and ranging outwards. They had become accustomed to this manner of communication over the years and their link was a comfortable one, with her Lupine half gently 'tapping' to greet Marionne. Thankfully, those troopers and intelligence officers she was often assigned to work with were well aware of what she was, though seeing it was often more jarring than simply knowing.​

There was little time to dwell on it, however, and with a nod, Firenne's raven-furred wolf form slipped silently down the hallway.​

Hunting.​

 

[The Major]

No.

No. Oh no, no, no, no, no. ​

Death -what else could it be- on comms were already a bad sign. Red lights and opening bulkheads spoke to ancient sectors deep within the animal part of the human mind. It transcended language, and it especially ignored orders. A happy coincidence of the agents' sudden tribulation was that the objective just so happened to be down the only open corridor away from whatsoever in the Nether's name was bubbling behind them. Sybil managed not to flee in terror at the awful cold forming in the pits of her guts, gracefully double timing down the hall with heavy blaster at the ready in step with her team; if it wasn't for Agent Dash and Nakano, however, she would have definitely chalked this op up to failure and noped out.

Unprofessional, maybe. It didn't matter. She kept her marbles for their sake, and pushed on. Somewhere on this soon to be Hellhole had to be turbolift of some sort that could whisk them quickly towards their mission.

Aurelian Dash | Isobel Nakano ​

 

[Isobel Nakano]

Isobel felt her stomach drop as the shrill scream tore across the comlink line and into her ear. "Oh God," she whispered, raising a hand to her mouth despite it being covered up by the mask and breather. She glanced at Aurelian, then to Sybil, and took her carbine from her back and primed it. She flipped the flashlight on and stepped into the corridor. Dash was right; whatever that sound was couldn't be good, and it was coming their way now.

"I'm upgrading our situation from kriffed to stanging kriffed," she told her compatriots quietly. She worried that they were cutting themselves off by advancing away from the elevator that had brought them here. If whatever was making those ungodly noises and caused the screaming and then devastating silence on the comlink was about to be between them and the elevator, she wasn't confident that the three of them could get through them and back.

She touched her earpiece. "Graham, push a map of the Resurgent-class to our datapads. Right away, please."

Aurelian Dash | The Major​

 

[Resurgent Narrative]

Tanileu would be lying if she said she was unnerved, she was nevered - very nerved. Her training prevented her from displaying it, so when Duval practically barked. She stood still, once power was back she could confirm, "this is the boat we were looking for, it's the Virulent." She too could hear the chatter on the comms. "Need a status on those data cores," Tanileu remarked as she dispatched her team to prepare for incoming any incoming hostiles. Paranoia would set in and that alone could doom the entire team, she was thinking ahead - they needed a way off this boat. It's gonna be a race to the shutt-​

​

The Gilarian woman's thoughts were stopped as a recording kicked on. The message would reveal the fate of the Virulent, and it was then that the Storm Commando realized. "Hey, where did the Knights go?" Not that she needed to rely on them, but damn if Tanileu didn't feel a helluva lot better with the pair of them nearby. As the recording played Tanileu heard something she wished she never had, and she was certain that the troopers with her didn't want to hear it either.​

​

This ship had been experimenting with the Blackwing. Of all things, the damn Blackwing. "Dank farrik," cursed Tanileu beneath her breath. Schuttas, the lot of them - kriff, kriff, kriff. This entire op was doomed to be fubar'd from the start as far as the Commando was concerned. ​

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Vakim Duval | Firenne Van-Derveld ​