Dominion Longest Day | Dominion of Guiteica | NIO

[Ves Fett]

Location: rat hole bar somewhere
Objective: BYOO do spice i don't know

The imperial machine just kept rolling on, crushing all in its wake with fervour and zealousness that might've even impressed Tarkin in the days of yore when the Galactic empire cast its gaze far and wide. Her kin hadn't changed much then, and they hadn't changed now, sure there was far fewer of the Fetts wandering the galaxy, but they still bore the colours with pride and with a determination that marked one as a Fett. Ves exhaled loudly and leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. She lost track of how long she had been at this bar, lost in thought as she spent her blood money on drink and spice.





"Get anotha' round in love, I ain't ran out of no credits just yet," the Fett woman gestured to the barmaid who nodded absentmindedly and went to draw up another round of drinks for the clientele. "An send word to yer boss I might have word on the street for that shipment-." Ves paused and shifted her attention to the holographic pole dancing figures on the podium.





"Put a bit extra on the tab, a tip and kind regards to ya boss."





Where the feth was Koda when you needed him, though no doubt he'd of been buried halfway in a Twi'leks cleavage if he was here with her, Careena, on the other hand, might've seethed in the corner, never the one for the dirty ends of the planet underworlds and nightlife. But she was a smart one and one who was never afraid to get rough. Suppose that's why she was in league with the Imperials.



The feth do I know?



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[Berach Ulrand]

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

The slavers' "fortress' if it could be called that comes within view of Berach's periscope, his massive palms wrapped around the two handles of the thick cylinder that dropped down from Governor-Alpha's cockpit ceiling. Cracked lips curled inwards, his ugly face creased and eyes narrowed. "Yer gotta be bloody kiddin' me, eh, squire? We brought most of the brigade for that?" Its' concrete walls were no more than eight feet in height with various prefabricated concrete and steel structures, there were a few heavy blasters mounted on tripods in towers that Berach could identify.

"Hopefully they 'ave some sense and surrender, uvverwise it's gonna be a bloody massacre." Berach muses to himself openly, he'd relish in crushing slaver bastards but was not keen on his apprehension that noncombatants would also die in the resulting hellfire. Pulling his bare eyelids away from the periscope Berach looks over right shoulder and down atop a navigation chart table where his helmet stood beside a steaming white mug filled with a cappuccino with a thin layer of cream sitting on its' still surface. The Gyrostabiliers of the walker meant that it remained perfectly calm and still.

His gloved hand completely swallowed the warm ceramic mug, it had turned out that Governor-Alpha had expended its' tea supply and thus Berach had improvised. Berach's scarred thin lips sip the tasty cream off the coffee's surface and his shoulders rise before breathing out a deep satisfied sigh. "That there is a wite robin wood brew fit for a toff." Peering back through the open bulkhead door and looking through to his 'headquarters' with its' myriad of computer terminals and communication equipment. "Blimey, right good brew me son! 'ave ter order more tea in fough aye!"

Putting the white ceramic mug down respectfully and slipping helmet back overhead. Berach then pushes the Periscope up out of his way towards the cockpit's ceiling his stompers taking several steps forward and perching hands on the pilot and co-pilot seat, leaning forward ever so slightly to take his weight off feet. "Blue-Heart Alpha this is the Guv'na got mince pies on the chuffin' Slaver mutts about five kilometres ter my norff, right, move the battalion into an extended royal mile. Me walker will be the bleedin' right marker of the rank, let's show these nonces wot we brought ter the bleedin' fight, ova." Berach gave Erskine Barran the direction in a jovial tone, the smile on Bearch's hideous visage audible on voice.

That same naval officer from earlier, who Berach did not know to be Karlist Rax spoke a warning into the battalion headquarters communication channel to which Berach was connected. It was an invitation to open fire. "Blue-Heart Alpha this is Guv'na Alpha belay that anchor's last and form up yer battalion as directed me son, ova" Berach's eyes descended to his pilot and co-pilot, they steadily peer up to Berach as if looking for direction, the Colonel did not speak he was fixated upon the fortification arrayed ahead of him.

 

[Willan Tal]

Brigadier General Lord Willan Tal
Upper Bal'ta'ran Cluster, Rork Island
Objective: #2
Faceless Narrator DECEASED Erskine Barran Robogeber Berach Ulrand @Djorne Bline Karlist Rax

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<"Coming into view of enemy positions over.">

<"How long until contact?">

<"Imminent, 5km away sir?">


<" Jolly good job old chap, keep communications open and dandy, will direct support fire from our boys in the arty.">


The wind rustled his hair as Willan, and several others of his command entourage walked over the hill toward the place where several of the brigade's tanks were station—acting as a form of impromptu makeshift artillery for their compatriots heading into contact. Far off into the distance, he could see the distant dust trails of the brigade armoured columns. A good indicator of space if any but he'd need coordinates and accurate ones if he didn't want to face writing a battle report on how he hit several of his tanks in an artillery barrage.

<"Berach old boy this is Tal, do be a good old sport now and transmit coordinates over to the central command.">


Berach or the Guv'nor as many lads in the brigade referred to him, was a tough old bulldog of a Galidraani. Low class and of ill mannerisms that didn't fit him nor endear him among his colleagues of more noble origin. Yet Tal admired the tough old boar for his honesty and commitment to the task ahead. Funny fellow but like Erskine, he was irreplaceable to the noble pursuit of Galidraans liberation. One would hope that perhaps when all was done and one could move among Galidraans streets freely once more. One would look to give Berach a peership or at least an honourary mention to the military academy back home. He owed the brute that much.​

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[DECEASED Erskine Barran]

LORD-MAJOR ERSKINE BARRAN
UPPER BAL'TA'RAN CLUSTER, RORK ISLAND
OBJECTIVE #2

Willan Tal Berach Ulrand Faceless Narrator Robogeber Kolson Vrask Oz Verde Djorn Bline Karlist Rax

After the PREFSBELT commander's comms underwent a brief silence, (indicative of an internal switch to another frequency) the distant, short-lived cacophony of blaster fire and explosions could be heard from within the Lord-Major's tank, with the top-turret's gunner opening the hatch to get better bearings of where the shots were being fired from. As the hatch squeaked open, it sounded as if the noises of destruction were booming from the right-hand side of the Blue-Heart column; at that point, Erskine's battalion were already moving northwest to merge with Berach's own, so Colonel Ulrand was immediately ruled out of suspicion of engaging in the heavy-arms bombardment.

'Ah guess some extra sabre-rattlin' wiz needed then... Or perhaps these slavers are something more than the flappers our new pals thought they'd be, we'll see soon enough.', the Lord-Major muttered, thinking aloud as he focused on the Guv'nah's column, which was steadily creeping towards the cluster's inner islands with spacing wide enough to let the second column merge with the Walkers near the front. From there, the Galidraani exiles would move a little faster to the locations marked by PREFSBELT, as there would be no need to wait or adjust speed beyond the point of merging formations. As wild and brutish as Colonel Ulrand was known to be, Berach never disobeyed the orders of his superiors; sometimes one of the most difficult things that can be asked of a solider, but Lord Erskine knew the illustrious commoner-Colonel had resolve enough to both accept and complete objectives that many in his place would deem unreasonable.

Hearing the orders to form into an extended royal mile from the Guv'nah, Barran's entire battalion received Shugg's automated formation order soon after, and quickly reached Ulrand's column with enough time to see what was going on in the slaver's so-called,"Fortress", though the Blue-Hearts' walkers would naturally be much slower than their tank-majority in their approach to Colonel Ulrand's position; with this considered, and with the taller vehicles already in the rear of the formation, Barran had whispered preemptive orders for all their walkers to fatten the ranks of the others at the back of Berach's new formation, so the Blue-Heart Walkers were the first to break formation in the redirection northwest.

'Roger that, Ulrand! We'll have oor ane periscopes on oor victims' compound soon enough, but ahm impatient, so how's this,"Fortress" looking? Anywhere near as unassailable as these slavers say?'

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[Fino Syko]

" Delta. Go right! Charlie go left! The rest of us push forward. Move!" Shock boots collided with the soil of the planet. Insurgent tactics and forces were met heavy with extreme prejudice. The Marines were not there to make friends. They had a job and Captain Syko was dead set to complete it flawlessly. Mess with the bull, get the horns. From a birds eye view that was exactly what was happening too.

While Delta squad and Charlie split off in opposite directs to close in on the mines. Cpt Syko led the rest of the marines into direct combat. Heavy blaster fire whizzed by. Too close for comfort and yet it was all too familiar as well. A hand signal was thrown up after lase canon fire could be heard and seen make craters in the adjacent area. It came from a ascending starfighter and enemy air support would not be tolerated.

" Grab a pencil and put that fighter back on paper." They took cover. "On my mark suppressing fire". A pencil was what Syko called Rocket launchers. It was some type of slang with his men. "Mark!" A hail a red plasma sprayed over the battlefield briefly before a pop and trail of smoke emitted soon after. Black visors lit up with fire and fighter parts reigned down like hail forced from an explosion.

" Well done. Advance on me.