Dominion Longest Day | Dominion of Guiteica | NIO

[Faceless Narrator]

E M P I R E _ R I S I N G
New Imperial Order

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G U I T E I C A
L O N G E S T _ D A Y

Guiteica has long been undisturbed by the events in the Galaxy, maintaining a firm position of isolating itself from the rest of the Galaxy. Their history has taught the natives, the Bitthævrian, better in what would happen when establishing communication and relations with other governments and nations outside of their system. A proud race the Bitthævrian are, honoring and valuing their warlike traditions that's lasted generations upon generations. Their past has made them violent towards those of the Jedi and their Republics; however, that does not exclude their minor hostilities towards Imperials.

Even so, this isolationism would not last forever.

COMPNOR through their analysts have found Guiteica a good investment for the New Imperial Order to annex into the fold of the Iron Sun. Discreetly, Commissioners Jaeger Harrsk and Djorn Bline planned out every steps in how to annex Guiteica. COMPNOR agents specializing in political warfare and cultural movements have successfully swayed military autocrats that rival against the main army of the Guiteica Militia: the m'Yalfor'ac Order. Thus, an uprising and coup is now underway, leaving the planet in crisis.

The time is now ripe for the New Imperials to harvest the work on Guiteica.

But not everything is black and white as this movement has sparked interests for the Kaleesh, making them to declare total war against the Bitthævrian.

OBJECTIVE I //: CRISIS

COMPNOR has successfully sparked rebellion amongst the Bitthævrian. The Bitthævrian-Imperial Separatists have mobilized their troops and resources to defeat the m'Yalfor'ac Order, the main army of the Bitthævrian that have for generations influenced the policies and decisions of Gueteica without anyone to challenge their rule.

Now what is left of the work is to reinforce our newfound allies with our own forces and fight against the m'Yalfor'ac Order on the continent of l'Quar'ta. Many battles and skirmishes range across the continent whether it's on the evergreen forests, the stony mountains, the blue waterfalls, or the cold glaciers.

Fight your own battle against the m'Yalfor'ac Order in their own territory.

Be advised, outside of our own knowledge the Kaleesh, despite being our allies, out of their own way have decided to intervene the battle and fight any Bitthævrian in their sights. Decide how these warriors will be dealt with.

OBJECTIVE II //: THIS IS MINE

With Guiteica in crisis due to the uprising, there are several points of interests to capitalize on that is afar from the main stage of battle. In the northwest coast of the l'Quar'ta continent lays the Upper Bal'ta'ran Cluster: a cluster of islands with mines rich in minerals and ores that Imperials of the past have attempted to gain permission to access these mines.

These mines also employ slaves to do the harsh manual labor of their overlords. Under the law of the New Imperial Order, this will not be tolerated. A separate task force has been deployed to takeover these mines with force under the command of Grand Admiral Robogeber . Use any means necessary to accomplish your goals.

OBJECTIVE //: BYOO

Whatever gets you to post, chief.

// SETPIECES //:
GUITEICA

 

[Berach Ulrand]

Colonel Berach "The Guv'na" Ulrand
Upper Bal'ta'ran Cluster, Rork Island
Objective: #2 (This is mine)
Tags: Faceless Narrator Robogeber DECEASED Erskine Barran Willan Tal

A four-legged colossus lumbered through the shallow waters off the coast of an idyllic island within its' box-shaped head stands a bald monster of a man his piercing blue eyes narrowed and focused on his prize: Rork Island. His walker proudly bore his moniker in bold white text on both sides of the leviathan's head, it exclaimed "THE GUV'NA".

Withdrawing the rolled cigar from between cracked lips he spoke in the smoke-filled cockpit raising wrist-mounted comlink to mouth after licking lips moist. "Major Ronan, co-ordinate the ba'talion up the beachhead towards objec'ive Aurek. The rules of engagement are this: Destroy any comba'ants with extreme prejudice son." He listened to the officer ten or fifteen years his junior acknowledge the order, Berach's squinted eyes watched the radar display in the centre of the pilot's console and each of the walkers of his unit begin fanning out into an extended line of bipedal and quadrupedal beasts.

Taking a step forward from beneath his commander's periscope, Berach extinguished his cigar in an ashtray on the console between Governor-Alpha's two pilots: Jacen Stil and Kelli Lint. Colonel Ulrand pulls his helmet overhead the hermetic seal inflates around his nape and bodysuit with a hiss. His eyes look down at the two junior commissioned officers, placing both of his gloved spadelike hands on their inside shoulder. "Leftenant Lint, take us up the Beach, Leftenant Stil scan for targets. She migh' not be a bubble bath ladies and gen's so keep yer eyes open".

Berach looks over his shoulder through the open bulkhead separating Governor-Alpha's head from its' chest, spotting his Loadmaster sort of loitering around, he scowls. "Oi Gaz! Put the bivvy on and bring us up t'ree teas mate will ya!?" Sergeant Garron threw up a wordless salute and Berach dips his head once. "Good man." None of his favourite single-malt whiskey while on operation now wasn't the time for some tumble down the sink.

 

[Anja Vertal]

2nd Lieutenant Anja Vertal
Prosecutor (Praefect-class Star Destroyer)
Objective: #1 (Crisis)
Tags: Kolson Vrask Jorus Fel

Sitting on the edge of the firm mattress that was her bed in a spartan junior officer's room aboard the Star Destroyer "Prosecutor" Anja slides her bodysuit sheathed legs through the length of her black flight jumpsuit. Vertal raises the comlink built into the wrist-length black flight glove up to pursed lips "I'm not too concerned, intelligence states Air Defence Systems are minimal, we'll detect any SAM sites once their RADAR stations go active. Relax" Anja listens to Viper-three's observation about them being assigned to provide close air support for a Special Operations Battalion.

"Yeah they're "Storm Commandos" so they'll be brutes guzzling down their blue milk protein shakes and get that rubbish all over the floor." Anja grips the little metallic zipper on the front of the loose-fitting flight suit and pulls it high up to the collar with a 'ziiiiiiit' she turned lazily with blue spheres looking at her helmet perched on the edge of her mattress outstretching her arms and heaving out a long yawn. Anja's small dainty hands clasp the mandible guards of her helmet and slip them over the back of head, taking care not to clip the bun of brunette hair there.

The sterile oxygen of the armour's life support system wafts up Anja's nostrils, oh how she hated it for the reason that it had a habit of leaving her with the sensation of having a dry nose and throat constantly and no amount of finicking with the humidity and precipitation settings on the environmental control unit hanging off of her breastplate seemed to help. Instead, Anja kept several canteens filled with water hanging from her load bearing webbing. In this way, she looked more prepared for combat than most pilots given the pouches filled with canteens, power cells and rations. "Time for pre-flight checks." Anja mused in her short shuffle towards the bedroom's door.

 

[Djorn Bline]

D I A M O N D _ S N A K E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
GUETEICA
OPERATION : BLIND SIDE
FOCUS | Daros Karmann | Rika Hiro | Icarn Amonta | OPEN

He and Jaeger knew everything that was going on in Gueteica, every minute that passed by. After all, they were the composers of this operation that was going on at every corner of the planet. The planet was in crisis which would allow them to begin an indefinite period of normalization that would forever be loyal to the New Imperial Order.

But not everything was black and white as it seemed.

Everything was grey for everyone in this operation, but ultimately Djorn and Jaeger would know the truth of the whole scandal. Them and a few others. The only thing they didn’t account for was Kaleesh Warriors being the wild card on Gueteica. A surprise, but one that would be handled by those that came would encounter them.

Not his problem to handle. There was something else to take care of.

He recognized from the data provided by COMPNOR analysts that there would be a power vacuum amongst the militant autocrats they have made allies out of. They grew tired of m'Yalfor'ac Order and wanted to be top of the food chain which further conflict between them. Not something the New Imperial Order could tolerate.

It’s why Diamond Snake was here in the glaciers of one of the continents that was far away from the main theater of battle. Here was the main base of operations of one of their many political allies unknown of Snake’s mobilization. He was dressed in unmarked armorweave that suited best for black ops missions.

“Volta, let’s get this going,” he spoke to Icarn on his left side as their stealth gunship was flying towards the military compound.

“The plan is simple, folks. We have tagged a political target that is in leagues with the Order that we’re fighting. Our job is to locate him in his base and take him out. Use any means necessary, anyone standing in our way can take a powder. All other targets are open for termination. We’ll be deployed at this ventilation shaft and make our way inside the base.”

“Looks like our stop is here.”

 

[Zane DeZorroe]

SGT Oz Verde
Location: I'Quar'ta Continent | u'Tal'ac moutain Range
Objective: Crisis 1
Tags: Open

Oz was honed in for a while now, wearing a simple camo blanket/cloak he'd gotten before hand just for this. He'd been deployed a little bit ahead. He was tasked as a sniper to take out a member of opposition leadership. He lived for theses moments. It was one think to be tugging through Felucia to kill the biggest and meanest fauna there. It was another thing when their sentient with protective measures. Maybe he should've became a bounty hunter or a freelance assassin. But that's just not the way the cookie crumbled for this... humble Ubese.

His speeder bike wasn't far off, it made for a good escape when things got hairy. But if things got worse then hairy, he was gonna need it even more. In the mountains he looked over a winding road to make his kill. Looking down the scope of his DLT-19x Targeting blaster he zeroed in on where he was going to make his shot.

"<Sargent, recon says that convoy is going to be arriving at your location soon, be ready. Over>" His coms interrupted the almost zen like state he was in as he readied himself.

"<Copy that, Over>" He replied before taking into account the wind speed and direction that could influence the trajectory of his plasma bolt. After getting a good position he used his cybernetics to make his body motionless to an uncanny degree. The hunt was on...

 

[Karlist Rax]

Objektiv II: UNTERNEMEN EISENARCHIPEL
TASKFORCE BYZANTINE

"Dispatch is approximately two minutes Admiral ." The AT-ASG pilot growled over the commlink. "I'd suggest putting on the helmet sir." He added. The walker driver was met with a merciless stare at the back of his helm, "Landing can be a little rough is all." Rax rolled his eyes at the concerns of some over dressed pilot.

"Your concern is appreciated." Karlist Rax drily replied, before his attentions turned to the comms officer of the walker, "Send a dispatch to the Captain Burr. We are about to make landfall, and have him ready to relay reinforcements." Rax looked out as the walker was transported through the clouds of Guiteica. It was a rather interesting mission the Admiral had been placed in charge of by his liege, the Grand Admiral. Unternehmen Eisenarchipel. The subjugation of the slavers would be key, ironically to allow a more civilised for to take root. Not that New Imperial Command needed to worry itself with such tertiary details.

"What is the ETA of our support escort?" Karlist barked at the Stossjaeger technician operating the comms unit, "I want us armed, but not yet ready to fire. We'll make an example of these savages yet." The walker then dropped, and landed with a thud. The Prefsbelt officer was jerked from his seat, his head slamming against a bank of consoles. Grunting, the imperial officer scowled, picking himself up. "Where is that bloody helmet?!"

 

[Kolson Vrask]

V A N D A L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CRISIS
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades
Anja Vertal | Jorus Fel

Another day, another task. As he awoke from his quarters on the Prosecutor he was quick to his feet, pouring his blue milk protein blend into the shaker before he began to rattle the container in order to mix the Palprotein powder in. A few strong drinks of the bottle left it empty before he fastened his armor over the bodyglove beneath, fixing the helmet over his gaze as he let the light of the HUD fill his vision.

He sat in the troop bay of the Rapid Deployment Assault Gunship, leaning back into his seat before he looks the way of Hayek across from him. Vandal and 501st operated alongside eachother well enough, now he was with the Airborne proper.

<"Any idea what's waiting for us down below, trooper?"> He inquires before soon enough he hears the pilot call for pre-flight checks over the ship's comms.

 

[Willan Tal]

Brigadier General Lord Willan Tal
Upper Bal'ta'ran Cluster, Rork Island
Objective: #2
Faceless Narrator DECEASED Erskine Barran Robogeber Berach Ulrand Kolson Vrask @Karlist Rex Oz Verde Djorn Bline

​

<" Objective coming into view sir, keeping close channel link with Ulrands boys."


<"Copy that fellow, keep your sights ahead, these buggers are crawling everywhere."


Lord Tal diligently kept up communications throughout the whole sordid affair, but truth be told old Tal boy was sitting comfortably some 5km away from the action. Carefully monitoring the developments on the front as his men pushed into contact with the enemy. The old Galidraani had been subsiding on a steady diet of tea and biscuits since Berach and Erskines Columns had set off. He was accompanied by several aides and officers. At the same time, they surveyed a holonet projection and drone feed of the battlefield—intermittently stopping work to have a tea break every so often. As tradition back home dictated. It was not prim or proper to miss a tea break as it renewed one's senses and kept one on his toes.


Gesturing for his aide to pass him the carton of milk, Willan poured a bit into his cup and stirred his tea until it turned a pleasant shade of brown. He took a hearty sip and placed it down on the pop-up table and moved to pick up his comm.

​

<"Oh and one thing boys- make sure you don't get the brigade emblems on your tanks tarnished, I paid good money for those.">
​

​

 

[Jorus Fel]

8 T H _ A I R B O R N E
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CRISIS
Anja Vertal | Kolson Vrask

<"Any idea what's waiting for us down below, trooper?">

I escaped my Kaleesh-genocidal trance, shook my head, and looked at a Storm Commando talking to me. My near-death experience with a Kaleesh during the subjugation of Kalee rattled me as much as the turbulence hammering the gunship as it made its descent into atmo.

<"Bad guys."> I reported back curtly. That's what the vets of 501st taught us to say, brainwashed us to learn. We were the good guys, they were the bad guys. Nothing else mattered. <"and Kaleesh combatants."> I added. Venom in my voice.

Gereon nudged me playfully.

<"Still getting the shakes from those alien inbreds, huh?">

It was the joke of the campaign.

I sighed inaudibly and stared at the barrel of my rifle.

<"He nearly got whacked on Kalee by one of these mongs. Never let it go."> Gereon elaborated to the Commando, then to me, <"This time we've got CAS, Rook. Some hotties. None of those virgin sticks-up-the-ass we usually get.">

 

[Anja Vertal]

2nd Lieutenant Anja Vertal
Prosecutor (Praefect-class Star Destroyer)
Objective: #1 (Crisis)
Tags: Kolson Vrask Jorus Fel

Anja slides a code cylinder from a pocket on her sleeve into the lock adjacent to the cockpit door inside the cargo bay, it recedes into the bulkhead almost instantly under several thousand pounds per square inch of pressure. The cockpit was just how Anja had left it; utterly pristine and clean. Taking a few steps forward her left palm rests on the headrest of the Durasteel pilot chair for a second, beneath the emotionless glossy black faceplate of her helmet Anja Smiles. "Here's hoping those stupid grunts don't get that powder all over the blood tray again." Anja comments to herself quietly, virtually in a whisper.

Anja can hear them through the now shut cockpit door holler and grunt as they do prior to a combat drop, the nature and content of their conversations makes a Tusken Raider seem scholarly she thought. Seated in the Gunship's pilot seat, Anja begins going through her internal pre-flight checks and uses the fingers of both hands to flip a sequence of switches. "Main power, on" Anja narrates as Viper-One's external running lights shoot beams onto the hangers' floors and walls, the cockpit's avionics suite colour displays start booting-up. "Auxillary systems booting up." Anja's left-hand starts manipulating a subspace communication and unit positioning digital map off to that side. "Communications and Navigation online."

Gripping the pitch control stick that rises from the slightly reclined cockpit seat's arm, she visually inspects the stick's safety and ensures it's active before continuing with her checks. Anja begins running diagnostics on weapons and throttle controls. "Weapons and throttle control okay." Anja reaches over to her cockpit subspace radio and connects her helmet's wireless comlink to the SQUADRON Com and TROOPCOM which would allow her to switch between the two channels and communicate directly with her embarked troops.

<"All Troopers onboard secure yourself into the vacant seats with safety harness, loadmaster perform safety check"> Anja's composed and eloquent clipped accent fills the helmet of those aboard Viper-One, an order to the embarked troopers to take a seat in the two rows of seats that face towards the port and starboard cargo doors. A particular burly loadmaster clad in a flight suit begins walking down the two isles created by the two rows of seats in Viper One's belly. A pair of static lines visibly hung above the isles for use with gravchutes or parachutes.

Anja's helmeted head cranes upward and she observes the Hanger's launch claws move a rack of TIE fighters into position; their fighter escort for the journey to the red zone below. Anja doubts they would be necessary but seeing a line of zip-heads was always reassuring, intel was no guarantee an operation wouldn't go sideways or unexpected threats wouldn't appear. Anja switches her com-channel to flight control using her pitch stick's buttons. <"Flight control this is Viper-One, requesting permission for engine start, over>"

A few seconds pass "<Viper-One this is Flight Control, you are cleared for engine start, smash lights over>" With that Anja realizes she'd left her anti-collision lights on from her pre-flight check and corrects this immediately.

Anja nods her helmet even as their conversation was disembodied. "Flight control, this is Viper-One roger out." Manipulating a few controls and Viper-One's repulsor engines begin to thrum, their oscillating vibrations through the hull and cockpit seat were tantalising an omnipresent reminder of the power and freedom in her hands.

 

[Enlil]

Objective I, Crisis

"Dishonest Hands hold tight to nothing."

​

Kaleesh High Command

While the Imperial military sank its teeth deep into the Upper Bal't'ran Cluster, a small delegation arrived on scene elsewhere. Information supplied by New Imperial intelligence suggested backhanded dealings among the allied Kaleesh. The situation reeked of a similar destabilization to that of Ketaris; yet, there were shades of gray that ran deeper than a duopoly split down the middle.

An age old conflict. Deep seated hatred. These were things that did not simply wash out with one or two talks. While Ideally they wanted to normalize the world with minimal loss of life and total faith from their constituents, the reality had slapped them hard.

The New Imperials would not take the slight lying down.

Enlil walked at the head of the group and spoke over his shoulder without looking back. "Secure the perimeter," he commanded. "Relieve the local guards. If they resist-"

He drew an imaginary line across his throat.

"Sir!" The King watched Stormtroopers filter out of the shuttle and scramble toward positions around the compound. Satisfied, he continued his approach. The sound of blaster fire screamed suddenly and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of charred flesh.

"Ah, Lord Enlil!" one of the Bitthævrian politicians clasped his hands together and hurried to greet the King. "We were informed that you would be arriving, but on such short notice, I apologize we were unable to make better accomodations-"

He held up a hand. "This is a war zone, one hardly expects a hero's welcome," Enlil stated. The man heard a scuffle and snapped his head round to see a soldier slumped against the outer wall.

"What is the meaning of this?" the man asked, suddenly confused and afraid.

"This is a discussion," the King explained. "And provided you remain amicable and answer my questions reasonably, it will not escalate beyond a discussion. My men have taken the liberty of relieving your guards, as you can see."

He did not have to elaborate.

"Yes, of course," he murmured as he gestured for the King to follow. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this sudden visit?"

"It has become evident that there are those who are dissatisfied with the designated Imperial action, and decided to take the law into their own hands." Enlil took a seat in the first chair he saw, and gestured for everyone present to take seats of their own. "I wish to understand why your people have spit in the face of the Sovereign Imperator's kindness. Can you tell me?"

"My Lord, we would never-"

"In my homeland, we have a saying. A dishonest man spoils his harvest," Enlil drawled as his eyes bored into the man. "If you offer me rotten fruit, what am I to tell Irveric Tavlar? Do not lie to me."

"I... we..." he stuttered.

"I want names. Give me a detailed list, and tell me where I can find them."

As he spoke, the King activated a commlink discreetly. It was wired on a direct link to Djorn Bline and his COMPNOR affiliates, Daros Karmann , Rika Hiro and Icarn Amonta .

Spoiler: ooc note

Enlil doesn't know where the channel is feeding, only that he's feeding the Intel somewhere.

 

[Orson Jade]

Location: Imperial Dig Site
Objective: BYOO

Why did the Imperials always have to make it so easy? Sometimes the Corellian wanted a bit of a challenge when it came to heists, how had the New Imperial Order even managed all this time? The security of the dig site was incredibly lax as many who were once stationed had been recalled. Now there was nothing more than a skeleton crew manning the entirety of the Dig site.

Walking down the prefabricated halls, hands tucked at the small of his back, wearing a pristine officer's uniform, Orson gave a nod to two passing stormtroopers as they stopped and saluted him. Since he’d entered the facility worry had eaten at the Corellian that he’d be made. Now seeing the stormtroopers so readily acknowledging him as their superior made the man much more confident.

Snapping off a crisp salute Orson examined the two. “At ease men.” With no other words, the gunslinger left the other two to their musing. A smile crossing the man’s face beneath the false mustache and beard combo he wore.

Coming to a stop before the command station doors Orson raised the keycard he’d policed off the officer he was impersonating, the door granting the man access. Within sat only one lone stormtrooper, a hand resting under his chin, head lolled to the side.

“EH HEM!” The false, overexaggerated clearing of Orson’s throat caused the stormtrooper to jerk upright raising to their feet before snapping off a salute of their own.

Putting a look of disappointment behind his gaze Orson eyed the trooper hard. “At ease soldier, I can only hope those on the front aren’t as lackadaisical.”

“Yes Sir, sorry Lieutenant Commander.”

Sighing Orson shook his head. “In times like these my son, we can't afford to become docile. Even out here the Sith and their allies could strike.”

“I understand sir.”

“Good. What's the report on our operations?”

“We’ve harvested over three crates worth of Kyber crystals today, the mining crew is currently on break.”

“Show them to me,” Orson said, a hand resting on the trooper's shoulder.

“Um… Y-yes Sir.” The viewscreens before the two flickered slightly before showing the sealed crates.

“Magnificent. The Imperator will be pleased with our progress.”

“What do you think they’ll use them for Commander Reeves?”

“I don’t know what they wanted to use them for son, but they won’t get the chance.” Before the stormtrooper could even react he fell to the ground stunned. Steam rose from the end of the smugglers blaster pistol.

“Nothing personal.” Taking the seat of the enlisted soldier, Orson began typing away commands on the terminal. By the time he reached the hangar bay, the crystals would be loaded on his shuttle and he’d be free to go.

“Up we go,” Orson said dragging the stormtrooper back into their seat positioning them as though they were resting with their head in their arms. “Sweet dreams kid.”

With that Orson left and was making his way through the halls at a dignified but speedy pace.

Trajan Fett

 

[Fino Syko]

Objective II: Take the Mines

" Sir! Permission to speak freely?" The question hung in the air as Captain Syko let the musings of combat riddle the mind, Sharpening his focus. After a minute he gave in and responded. " Permission granted. Speak freely private. Whats on your mind." His platoon of sixty Galactic Marines had been ordered to be dispatched and now here they were on this forsaken dirt of a planet.

" Sir. I think this whole mission is bantha poodoo. Why do we get this karking detail while the Storm commandos get-" The private was cut short. His words warranting his captain to turn around on his heels and jab the privates chest plate with a pounding thud. " Do you ever shut the kark up? We are Galactic Marines. If you dont like the details given then you can be my guest and take it up with the Grand Admiral himself! But for now...STOW IT. Get your arse back in formation. Now." he commanded and continued onward.

Making sure all his marines were able to find a transport he began his very quick de-brief. " Alright maggots listen up! Our objective is the mines. We have orders from the Grand Admiral himself to take these locations by whatever means necessary!" He voice traveled despite being mid air. " Im sending you the specs and layout of the land now! Be advised there will be slaves in the mines. Do not engage lest they engage first." He turned his gaze to a batch of noobies. " That means you trigger happy wurms! The slaves are to be liberated."

The droid ship shook as it began to engage under fire. " It looks like someone is home and unwilling to be a good host boys. Lets give them a good ol Galactic Marines welcome." Underneath his helmet he smiled as the drop-ship landed on the outskirts of the island.

" Oooorrrraaahhhh!" The platoon as a whole cried in unison as they deployed.

 

[Kolson Vrask]

V A N D A L
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CRISIS
Armor | Rifle | Pistol | Grenades
Anja Vertal | Jorus Fel

He did a full check of his kit, his rifle, pistol, ammo, grenades, all in check. Good to go. The BKM would serve as a better than the means precision rifle, DMR. Ideally, the Airborne could do the real scrapping and Berik could set himself up in overwatch, eyes from above, pick down at whatever the hell they face. Far as he could tell, Kaleesh would also be doing most of the heavy lifting.

All but lined up to be an easy run. The idle thrum and noise of the gunship gave him a decent backdrop once it got going as he honed in on what the operation ahead detailed, hearing the chatter of Hayek and his comrades across from him.

<"You boys got it rough on Kalee? Gotta realize it was a split deal, some were with us, some were Sith. S'far as I can tell, the ones that were Sith weren't treated so well by their brothers once we took control so- I wouldn't keep the grudge. Hell, I get it though."> Berik said in understanding.

He glanced up to the cables lining the ceiling above, patching through to the pilot, Anja.

<"We doing a high altitude drop? LZ expected to be hot?"> He inquired.

 

[Salvor King]

C H A M P I O N
NEW IMPERIAL ORDER
CRISIS
「 C H A M P I O N _ O F _ T H E _ W O R L D 」

Bitthævrian skull crunched beneath the force of King's left TURBODUSTER. One after another, the aliens fell dead or unconscious at his feet. With ever subsequent strike, it became harder and harder to tell m'Yalfor'ac from Rebel. Oh well. He kept punching.

"You crazy bastard!" A Stormtrooper Captain called out in the chaos. "You're hitting our allies! Cool it!"

King punched him too, cracking his helmet like an egg. Three Stormtroopers nearby looked amongst themselves before opting to pretend as if they saw nothing and go back to their engagement.

A Kaleesh interloper charged forward, seeing King as a worthy challenge. The Five Time Champion hit the assailant with an uppercut, lifting off his feet. Suddenly, the Kaleesh was gone. King looked around. No Kaleesh to be found.

He looked up. No Kaleesh.

It would never come back down. Sith legend still speaks of the living comet to this day.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
THE OATHSWORN
SONS OF MANDALORE
HUNTER OR PREY
Orson Jade

EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE...​

Active pulse, short of breath, down to his skivvies. The quick pull database rated him as a Captain, Imperial Army. And at the moment? Drool on his chin and a less than admirable pose on the cold metal floor of the empty cargo container.

<"Unlucky..."> He muttered, closing the lid once more. He'd wake up, panic and get himself out eventually. The issue was that now there was some no-do-gooder in full Imperial officer dress. Kyber wasn't all too useful to the New Imperial Order directly, but it carried value just about anywhere in the Galaxy. This meant an exchange of off the market goods without credits to trace it back, a secondary currency all its own. Used to get illegal goods, services, information and dirty deeds done dirt cheap in and out of Imperial space with no line of credit to trace back to COMPNOR, ISB or the rest of the alphabet doing clandestine operations.

Just as well, so was it used to enhanced the firepower of larger scale capital ships in the New Imperial Navy which...in a war like this? They needed all the pound for pound firepower they could get. They skimped out here because the New Imperial Order's war machine was re-escalating, any veteran or fully trained unit was thrust to the front to prepare for more large scale offensives. Units like the ones here? Green. A Mando was just as good and less costly on logistics. 96 hours here for a free refuel, refurbish and a quick buck before he was onto the next job.

Almost at the finish line when suddenly things got interesting.

<"Dorn point command...we have a breach."> Trajan muttered through his commo to one of the onsite commanders.

<"A breach?! Should I hail the alarm?">

<"I'll handle it, shoot a stay in place order to all callsigns...and unlock hangar bay Besh-2."> Where his ship was resting and refueling. He made his way down the halls with a foreboding pace to his step, each characteristic rattle of his boots was the tell tale sign of his armor, his creed. And for whoever was gonna stand up to oppose him?

The end.

Orson was making his way down the hall, turned the corner and was met face to face immediately with the T-visor of Kurze.

One immediate glance of the rough and tumble spacer among a sea of well groomed and trimmed Imperials sold him out immediately. The rank bar? No one graduated that young and shot right up to Captain.

This was the one.

<"Grey doesn't fit you anyway...">​

A stun blaster fired out from his vambrace in the direction of Jade to incapacitate him.

 

[Orson Jade]

​

Location: Imperial Dig Site
Objective: BYOO

If Orson had been wiser he would’ve checked the logs of the ships docked and would’ve noticed the all too familiar vessel of Trajan Kurze. Every spacer and smuggler from the Deep Core to the Tingel Arm knew who the other was, their reputation having grown all the move over the years they worked for the New Imperial Order. Alas, the smuggler had no clue that he would be running into the scourge of smugglers.

Rounding the corner Orson’s eyes almost widened at the sight of the T-visor, the infamous armor of the Mandalorian obvious, signs of battle apparent. Heart racing the Corellian looked into the visor and only now did he understand why people feared them. The last thing many would see was their own reflection in that visor as the Mandalorian cut them down.

‘Don’t worry, there’s no way that he knows who I am.’ Orson reassured himself about to give a curt nod to the mercenary only for them to speak first. This time causing Orson’s eyes to truly bulge.

<"Grey doesn't fit you anyway...">

‘Son of a bi-’ Orson thought as the stun bolt slammed into the man’s chest lifting him off his feet throwing him down to the ground. Head lolling to the side, the white beard and mustache askew on his face, Orson appeared to be unconscious. At least till that smile crossed his face, the concord brawn beneath his disguise having protected him.

From his own vambrace, a grappling line shot out to entangle the Bounty Hunter’s feet an electric discharge released to distract them from what was to come next. Clicking his heels together, Orson’s rocket boots activated, shooting the gunslinger up and in a circle for him to fling the Bounty Hunter into and through the prefabricated walls.

“Sorry, I’ve got a date with anyone but you. Catch ya next time champ!” Orson shouted back over the roar of his boots propelling him down the halls towards the hanger bay.

Trajan Fett

 

[Icarn Amonta]

" V o l t a "
Tag: Djorn Bline | Rika Hiro | Daros Karmann | Enlil | Others​

---

Icarn never quite remembered how they wound up on Guiteica, nor how they ended up in the midst of several missions for that matter. Their life seemed to be a perpetual in media rez, always on the go, always another task. Icarn couldn't say they minded, either. Not particularly, at least. It kept things interesting, kept things variable. And Icarn was nothing if not a variable.

Waiting out the gunship ride, they absently chewed on a piece of gum, a light pop filling the air ever so often. Their gaze shifted from one passenger to the other with vague curiosity. With no dire need to meet anyone in particular, however, Icarn was limited to simply picking their brains, more literally than one typically would use such a phrase for. That gentleman over there? About as interesting as his face suggested. The one over there? Ouch. Icarn was nearly driven out of the individual's brain by their forethoughts. Almost. Set a reminder to send a condolences card and--

"Volta, let’s get this going."
​

Words would normally go in one ear and out the other but not this time. This time any other thoughts slipped away like water in an open hand, further accented by one last pop of gum. Strange, they were thinking about something just now - what was it? Ah, well, if it was important they'd come back to it later. They stretched, taking a moment to gather themself as the mission was fully explained.

"Extermination without limit? No problem." It was Djorn's own voice that answered back, the mimic of a creature being all too willing to put their mimicry skills to the test, even if it was more for amusement than practicality. Unlike the previous mindlessness, they were attentive, maybe even prepared to make the leap off the gunship.

 

[Trajan Fett]

S U P E R C O M M A N D O
THE OATHSWORN
SONS OF MANDALORE
HUNTER OR PREY
Orson Jade

AAAAGH​

He was a tough one, Trajan could smell that off him right from the jump. A stun blast to most anyone would knock them out clean but soon enough Jade was back on his feet, the near certainty in the shot leaving Trajan to lower his vambrace only for the grappling cable to wrap around his legs and soon enough, the Mando was whisked into the air.

...Same vambraces he had...how'd this kid end up with those? Only the Sons of Mandalore proper, New Imperial Stormtrooper Corps and the Trade Fed-...oh. Ohhhh.

Were it not for the sealed bodyglove and Beskar overlayer, that electro shot might've sent him down all the same, but all it ended up doing was send him flying off into one of the walls, leaving a Mando sized impact crashing him through to the other side.

Didn't save Jade from the tracking node that he managed unto the smuggler's back before he was flung off.

<"Son of a-..."> He let out...managing a groan of pain out as he set himself on his feet. On the quick display map on the corner of his heads up, the beeping node was still live and moving. Soon as he was on his feet, he was quick to run in his direction before he let off a pulse of his jetpack after the next door opened automatically upon his closing in on Orson's location. The chemical thrower in his vambrace swapped to carbonite. To put this one on ice for easy capture.

The next door paved way for the hangar bay just as he was bee lining it toward the shuttle loaded with the goods.

A grappling line fired out in an equal retaliation for the earlier attack from Jade aimed legs to wrench him away from the shuttle just as he was nearing the ship.

<"Hope you're ready for Dago, kid."> He muttered, angling out his other vambrace to give Orson a carbonite bath with a spray of the frozen liquid.

 

[Ravraa Vyshraal]

OBJECTIVE 1 - CRISIS

SHILI SECTOR AUXILIARIES

The NIV Emperiolo came screaming out of hyperspace, bursting through the streaks of falling stars into real space at the edge of the Guiteica system. It was a lofty vessel, a Valiant-class, something that the commander, Moff Vyshraal, hardly felt was proper for himself. It was suggested to him by other members of the Imperial Assembly, of course a Moff had to have a proper ship, something that designated him as one of the planetary governors of the Imperial Order. He normally wasn’t one to give into peer pressure, but when meeting after meeting was started with the sun being blotted out by the attending parties crafts, well, it began to make Ravraa feel ever so slightly that he was underdressed for the occasion.

Perhaps he was. Perhaps he was better without the weight of a Star Destroyer in his back pocket.

The wide open halls, expansive viewports, and the sheer firepower that the vessel commanded all were little pleasantries that he never would have thought he would ever have any semblance of ownership over. He had been in vessels like this before, of course. He had served on several.

But now?

He stood at the bridge as the commander of it all, his eyes glazing over through the void as he took in the little orb of a world that would be the brunt of his operations in this system. Another day in service to the Imperator.

The m'Yalfor'ac Order, he was told by briefings and long winded officers, was the target of this military exercise. Something that had to be removed in order for the Iron Sun to wave over the planet. The continent of l'Quar'ta was the staging ground… or was it the main front? He couldn’t quite remember. He looked at the datapad that held the dossier of the mission and rolled his eyes.

Another world, another conflict.

“I’d like a gunship prepped, a squadron of the boys, if you would.” He murmured to a passing naval aide, an over glorified officer, as they went to pass by him. A salute given that was quickly waved away by the Moff.

The vessel was staffed by a select few Stormtrooper, in fact, they were a rare site upon the Emperiolo. It was much more common to see the Shili Sector Auxiliaries, taking up roles that would normally be given to the much more standardized and regimented sections of the New Imperial Army. Regardless, the few stormtroopers that made up those stationed on the ship were, as a rule, pulled from the 501st Legion.

What he would do for another Muun World siege then this.

Sighing, he looked down and tapped the datapad to life.