Prefsbelt Commander
Time: 03:23 Local Time
Location: FIV Wrath | One Parsec From Fort Dawn
Objective: Destroy the Alliance Fleet.
Allies: [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Lucan Sirrad"] | [member="The Major"]
Enemies: [member="Mazik Stazi"] | Galactic Alliance Forces
Theme: Rise of the First Order | Stormcloud [X]
Battlegroup Imperator’s entry to Fort Dawn was an instantaneous burst of energy. One which saw, one of the greatest ever amassed fleets now enter one of the few bastions of resistance. The armada, of dagger shaped vessels consolidated their movements in and around the gargantuan mass of the wedge shaped super star destroyer. The crews however did not halt to consider their movements, and instead, began an immediate advance. TIE fighters, and assorted fighter craft now began to swarm by the dozen from cavernous hangar bays, as the Galactic Alliance’s reckoning was to come. The already shambling corpse, had been decided to be given one final, and unceremonious boot.
The Imperator himself, the Battlegroups frontline commander, Carlyle Edrich Rausgeber watched from the centre of the fleet, as the chase was on. He now felt like a predator, on the hunt. For years, his prey had eluded him. Had taken so much from him. And now, now it seemed it was time for the kill. Even if the Sith Empire, much to his chagrin had managed to get their licks in first. No. Now was his moment. His time. And he was going to savour it.
In the distance, he could make out, surrounding the station, a flotilla of Alliance vessels. All of varied make, and status. Even as the fleet pressed forward, it was clear to even the most casual observer, that these vessels were not in the best shape. Scorch marks from their shambolic retreat across Alliance space. Chunks torn off them, and the faltering glow of exhausted engines. The flotilla before them was little more than an inkling of the once proud force which had triumphed over the One Sith. Turned, into a whimpering welp of its former self.
Rear Admiral Jervis Crocke, the FIV Wrath's nominal commanding officer smirked, as he moved beside his superior. He stood to the rear, left shoulder of the Grand Admiral “We have caught them right where we want them sir.” The officer gloated with pride. "It appears they're still scrambling to evacuate." The officer then paused, and eyed his superior, “Shall we begin firing solutions Grand Admiral?”
The Grand Admiral gave a curt nod, “Force them to ground,” Rausgeber glowered with glee, “Show the Fort that the end is nigh.” Carlyle moved to the fore of the command deck, and watched as the Alliance fleet in the distance began to embark on evasive actions, Crocke followed like an obedient lapdog. “Keep us within range, and have the bombers ready to pick the carcass.” Carlyle demanded in a booming voice.
Gallow nodded, and turned to the starboard crew pit, his deep mahogany orbs graced over the Gunnery Officer, and Comms Officer, “All vessels commence fire for full effect.” Crocke commanded. It took but mere seconds for the orders to be processed, and little under ten for it to be executed. Thousands of batteries readied themselves, before beginning their devastating barrage. The space around Fort Dawn began to glow blue, and green, as Battlegroup Imperator now began to savage the remains of the once proud GADF.
Each heavy shell, and missile, which hit, was devastating. Most of the smaller, possibly even civilian vessels were crushed beneath withering fire. Star Defenders, once considered the bane of the First Order, detonated beneath the assault, as the Imperator’s forces closed in. As the distance closed, the bright detonations of reactors, and engines beneath the bombardment. Victory, it seemed, was assured.
“Admiral!” A shrill voice began. The previously assertive and sadistically voyeuristic attitude the First Order had begun with, gone. The satisfaction at the destruction of the fleet. The carnage they had caused, evaporated. Now confusion. Even a little fear ran rife within their ranks. He located the source. A Varonat born ensign, the technician in charge of sensors. “They’re charging their hyperdrives!” The ensign barked.
Rausgeber’s holographic eyes, now traced over the armada from the comfort. The larger battlecruisers, had moved to shield the smaller vessels now. His optical sensor darted to the tactical feed. Despite the horrendous casualties, many vessels now in the protection of the hulking Viscount-II Star Defender, were disappearing off the map. Escaping. “Order Captain Royles to activate gravity wells!” Rausgeber bellowed, “Now!”
The bridge was thrown into a flurry of activity at the Imperator’s request. Carlyle starred in horror as his kill disappeared, ship by ship. His fist clenched, and an all too familiar, sinister snarl pursed the holographic lips of the long dead officer. Gunners rapidly concentrated their fire onto the remaining vessels, trying to stave off escape. But nearly all rounds, fell into the side of the Viscount. Armour was sheared off of it, with each contact. But it served to protect most of the fleet. A sacrifice for their survival.
It felt like an agonisingly long time, until a set of targets, which previously disappeared, returned to the screen. Captain Royles had finally completed his mission. “Grand Admiral,” The Sensor ensign began, “The enemy are moving to the station sir.” Rausgeber’s demeanour softened, but he could see what had happened. The Viscount was a sacrificial lamb. It had played its part, and now it had seen to many who would have otherwise perished, survived.
Carlyle considered his options. “Destroy that vessel,” Grand Admiral Rausgeber commanded, “Deploy fighters, and destroy or secure any escape pods.” He glowered menacingly, to the crew. He could see dozens of smaller freighters, frigates and cruisers scamper to the lee of the fort. He now stood to attention, and allowed a pause to come over him. In silence, the crew of the FIV Wrath watched as the Viscount was slowly torn asunder by the vessels. Limping in vain towards the Fort, until it erupted in a fiery explosion.
“Shall we turn our guns upon the Fort, Grand Admiral?” Rear Admiral Crocke questioned. The crew seemed to all at once, look to their superior, who sat, stony faced and contemplative. This was a set back to be sure. But not one which couldn't be overcome. No. It was but a distraction.
“No.” Carlyle drily replied, “No, we will see if perhaps now, the Alliance may be willing to use diplomacy.” His words, and their artificial quality, lead them to clinging to the air in a ghostly fashion. The wounds from Kaeshana, as raw as ever. “We have destroyed their larger vessels, or they fled before us.” He mused, before turning to Crocke, “And if they prove unreasonable,” He smirked, something which Crocke responded to with an eager grin, “Then we shall tighten the noose around Fort Dawn. Turn their bastion of resistance to a mausoleum.” The droid allowed another pause, “Prepare to broadcast on all signals, it is time we talk to our enemies, face to face.”
The Imperator glided towards a communications console. Dutifully, a technician reached beneath the Grand Admiral, and using a cord, plugged him into the interface. Boosted by Battlegroup Imperators communications systems, Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, scourge of the Galactic Alliance appeared on all open frequencies. Regardless of being aboard a vessel, escape pod or if one were on the station itself. Unlike his physical form, the visage he projected now, was one of a human face. Dirty blonde hair, with handsome grey streaks, with a mature, albeit youthful complexion.
"Forces of the Galactic Alliance," Rausgeber began, his voice no longer inhibited by the constraints of a vocal filter. His voice carrying the same weight it did, as if the man were alive, "You are doomed. Your government has betrayed you. Your forces are scattered and you have no hope of escape." The Grand Admiral thundered. His tone was bold. It carried a sense of purpose. Anger, to it. "For the crimes of your regime, you must pay." He continued, "But only you can choose either the certain death of resistance. Or the honour of submitting yourself to Supreme Leader's justice, where you may be spared."
"I eagerly await your decision...."
Location: FIV Wrath | One Parsec From Fort Dawn
Objective: Destroy the Alliance Fleet.
Allies: [member="Gromm Cardan"] | [member="Lucan Sirrad"] | [member="The Major"]
Enemies: [member="Mazik Stazi"] | Galactic Alliance Forces
Theme: Rise of the First Order | Stormcloud [X]
Battlegroup Imperator’s entry to Fort Dawn was an instantaneous burst of energy. One which saw, one of the greatest ever amassed fleets now enter one of the few bastions of resistance. The armada, of dagger shaped vessels consolidated their movements in and around the gargantuan mass of the wedge shaped super star destroyer. The crews however did not halt to consider their movements, and instead, began an immediate advance. TIE fighters, and assorted fighter craft now began to swarm by the dozen from cavernous hangar bays, as the Galactic Alliance’s reckoning was to come. The already shambling corpse, had been decided to be given one final, and unceremonious boot.
The Imperator himself, the Battlegroups frontline commander, Carlyle Edrich Rausgeber watched from the centre of the fleet, as the chase was on. He now felt like a predator, on the hunt. For years, his prey had eluded him. Had taken so much from him. And now, now it seemed it was time for the kill. Even if the Sith Empire, much to his chagrin had managed to get their licks in first. No. Now was his moment. His time. And he was going to savour it.
In the distance, he could make out, surrounding the station, a flotilla of Alliance vessels. All of varied make, and status. Even as the fleet pressed forward, it was clear to even the most casual observer, that these vessels were not in the best shape. Scorch marks from their shambolic retreat across Alliance space. Chunks torn off them, and the faltering glow of exhausted engines. The flotilla before them was little more than an inkling of the once proud force which had triumphed over the One Sith. Turned, into a whimpering welp of its former self.
Rear Admiral Jervis Crocke, the FIV Wrath's nominal commanding officer smirked, as he moved beside his superior. He stood to the rear, left shoulder of the Grand Admiral “We have caught them right where we want them sir.” The officer gloated with pride. "It appears they're still scrambling to evacuate." The officer then paused, and eyed his superior, “Shall we begin firing solutions Grand Admiral?”
The Grand Admiral gave a curt nod, “Force them to ground,” Rausgeber glowered with glee, “Show the Fort that the end is nigh.” Carlyle moved to the fore of the command deck, and watched as the Alliance fleet in the distance began to embark on evasive actions, Crocke followed like an obedient lapdog. “Keep us within range, and have the bombers ready to pick the carcass.” Carlyle demanded in a booming voice.
Gallow nodded, and turned to the starboard crew pit, his deep mahogany orbs graced over the Gunnery Officer, and Comms Officer, “All vessels commence fire for full effect.” Crocke commanded. It took but mere seconds for the orders to be processed, and little under ten for it to be executed. Thousands of batteries readied themselves, before beginning their devastating barrage. The space around Fort Dawn began to glow blue, and green, as Battlegroup Imperator now began to savage the remains of the once proud GADF.
Each heavy shell, and missile, which hit, was devastating. Most of the smaller, possibly even civilian vessels were crushed beneath withering fire. Star Defenders, once considered the bane of the First Order, detonated beneath the assault, as the Imperator’s forces closed in. As the distance closed, the bright detonations of reactors, and engines beneath the bombardment. Victory, it seemed, was assured.
“Admiral!” A shrill voice began. The previously assertive and sadistically voyeuristic attitude the First Order had begun with, gone. The satisfaction at the destruction of the fleet. The carnage they had caused, evaporated. Now confusion. Even a little fear ran rife within their ranks. He located the source. A Varonat born ensign, the technician in charge of sensors. “They’re charging their hyperdrives!” The ensign barked.
Rausgeber’s holographic eyes, now traced over the armada from the comfort. The larger battlecruisers, had moved to shield the smaller vessels now. His optical sensor darted to the tactical feed. Despite the horrendous casualties, many vessels now in the protection of the hulking Viscount-II Star Defender, were disappearing off the map. Escaping. “Order Captain Royles to activate gravity wells!” Rausgeber bellowed, “Now!”
The bridge was thrown into a flurry of activity at the Imperator’s request. Carlyle starred in horror as his kill disappeared, ship by ship. His fist clenched, and an all too familiar, sinister snarl pursed the holographic lips of the long dead officer. Gunners rapidly concentrated their fire onto the remaining vessels, trying to stave off escape. But nearly all rounds, fell into the side of the Viscount. Armour was sheared off of it, with each contact. But it served to protect most of the fleet. A sacrifice for their survival.
It felt like an agonisingly long time, until a set of targets, which previously disappeared, returned to the screen. Captain Royles had finally completed his mission. “Grand Admiral,” The Sensor ensign began, “The enemy are moving to the station sir.” Rausgeber’s demeanour softened, but he could see what had happened. The Viscount was a sacrificial lamb. It had played its part, and now it had seen to many who would have otherwise perished, survived.
Carlyle considered his options. “Destroy that vessel,” Grand Admiral Rausgeber commanded, “Deploy fighters, and destroy or secure any escape pods.” He glowered menacingly, to the crew. He could see dozens of smaller freighters, frigates and cruisers scamper to the lee of the fort. He now stood to attention, and allowed a pause to come over him. In silence, the crew of the FIV Wrath watched as the Viscount was slowly torn asunder by the vessels. Limping in vain towards the Fort, until it erupted in a fiery explosion.
“Shall we turn our guns upon the Fort, Grand Admiral?” Rear Admiral Crocke questioned. The crew seemed to all at once, look to their superior, who sat, stony faced and contemplative. This was a set back to be sure. But not one which couldn't be overcome. No. It was but a distraction.
“No.” Carlyle drily replied, “No, we will see if perhaps now, the Alliance may be willing to use diplomacy.” His words, and their artificial quality, lead them to clinging to the air in a ghostly fashion. The wounds from Kaeshana, as raw as ever. “We have destroyed their larger vessels, or they fled before us.” He mused, before turning to Crocke, “And if they prove unreasonable,” He smirked, something which Crocke responded to with an eager grin, “Then we shall tighten the noose around Fort Dawn. Turn their bastion of resistance to a mausoleum.” The droid allowed another pause, “Prepare to broadcast on all signals, it is time we talk to our enemies, face to face.”
The Imperator glided towards a communications console. Dutifully, a technician reached beneath the Grand Admiral, and using a cord, plugged him into the interface. Boosted by Battlegroup Imperators communications systems, Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, scourge of the Galactic Alliance appeared on all open frequencies. Regardless of being aboard a vessel, escape pod or if one were on the station itself. Unlike his physical form, the visage he projected now, was one of a human face. Dirty blonde hair, with handsome grey streaks, with a mature, albeit youthful complexion.
"Forces of the Galactic Alliance," Rausgeber began, his voice no longer inhibited by the constraints of a vocal filter. His voice carrying the same weight it did, as if the man were alive, "You are doomed. Your government has betrayed you. Your forces are scattered and you have no hope of escape." The Grand Admiral thundered. His tone was bold. It carried a sense of purpose. Anger, to it. "For the crimes of your regime, you must pay." He continued, "But only you can choose either the certain death of resistance. Or the honour of submitting yourself to Supreme Leader's justice, where you may be spared."
"I eagerly await your decision...."
