Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Poolhall Tango (open to bounty hunters) - ORC Dominion of the Vergesso Asteroids [Hex R-51]

Holden dropped out of lightspeed. He was late to the party and going to pay for it. He cursed in Old Corellian as he was tired of losing scores because he was too busy. Eryn had given him the slip again. He’d lost the big prize in the artefact. Now he was alone on his ship, landing it on the exterior hull of a medical frigate. The mag locks latched onto the hull and Tark got his envirosuit on.

He missed space walks. [member="Runi Verin"] used to have his back on a few of these, sometimes coming with him. It was rare he went without someone watching his vitals, but the man needed work.

The mag boots sunk against the hull when activated, and he started walking right for the medical ward. If any of the heavy equipment survived, Holden would make enough on the sell to keep his freighter running a bit longer. It was time for a new ship, but he had to fix the one he had to sell it. Too many people knew how to track it.

His comms tuned into the frequency most salvagers used when he heard a familiar voice. It was Runi.

”Alright lets open this thing up and see what we get...”
 
Objective Gold

The mumbled agreement and nods didn't inspire much confidence as he looked over the new bloods. The veterans simply gave a nod as they went over call signs and instructions one more time with the recruits. They weren't strangers to violence, all three showed promise, but they weren't soldiers. The 121st had been a legion too long, the years had wiped away their old ways and disciplined them. Most of the new hires lacked that in one way or another.

He silently kicked himself again for pushing so many out to Jyn, but it had been what was best at the time. Besides in a years time he'd have enough men trained and equipped that this would all be a bad memory. He'd left enough hands behind to continue training the new bloods, and taken the three most promising with him. After all it was too late to refuse the job once you were already on contract. They got what they needed out of it though, a port to repair and refit in, and homes for families.

Feeling the ship shake as another smaller asteroid bounced off the shields the Zabrak grimaced towards the cockpit. Damn good man, but still, nothing worse then dying in a transport before it landed. Taking his mind off it he checked his own gear over before they landed.

He wore recon armor over his usual iron skin, he'd moved away from the bulkier armor in favor of increased movement. Besides his shield took care of most of his defenses anyway, at least it always had held up so far. As for weapons he'd also relied on his alchemized blade, and for the moment a CC13 from Blas-Tech. At this point it was the standard weapon among the Legion, with an enormous surplus from an old contract it was the logical choice.

Red lights turned on over their heads as they entered the final minute before touchdown. Evidently the pilot had done his job damn well, they still weren't receiving incoming fire from the base inside the asteroid. “Alright, we keep this low and quiet till we know what we're dealing with. If we need support we'll call it in, if not we hit them fast and hard. Optio, I want safeties on until I give the call, lets not give them the opportunity to mount a defense until it's too late. Time to earn our pay, boys.”

As the shuttle moved to the surface Sargon opened himself to the Force feeling for life signs in the base. It only took seconds to feel that something was off, terribly off.
 
To boldly alchemize what no one alchemized before
OBJECTIVE BLUE: Smash the Eight Ball
Location: Vergesso

"I'm not even sure I actually want anything to do with piloting anymore... maybe I should just stick with being the accountant on D'Qar" T-account complained over comms.

"I knew that the ORC often gave hard-to-fill billets extra opportunities to get in the spotlight, and Mandos, Sith, too. But clearly it can backfire"

Janick came around for another pass, but those victories on Dagobah and Utapau were bitterly-fought, and carried bitter costs for the survivors, such as Griet or Wololo. She had to perform a corkscrew so that she could get out of the asteroids' way. Unfortunately, another one of the bombing crew bit the dust here, and she hoped it wouldn't be the case for T-account. Oh boy, perhaps that's part of why Sith factions tended to have big shortfalls in piloting - and I'm seeing it right here: T-account tasted combat and she would rather not pilot again except in a pinch. Whereas Silvers and GADF tended to do the reverse, where pilots are often given hard-to-fill billets as a second-choice posting, she thought, while realizing that this sort of situation would not happen in Imperial factions, where separation is stricter between billets. With her mind overloading because of T-account complaining about the rigors of starfighter combat, she had to be mindful of aiming for the aft heavy tractor beam hardpoint. After her wingmen firing so many ion rockets aft, her ion rocket was flying towards the aft heavy tractor beam hardpoint.

"The aft shields are down: also, their aft hardpoints are failing. We did what we had to do here, now, let the boarders do what job they have"

 
"Get me up close... Or onboard first... I can give you a distraction to last a good long while... Pincer towards Jorus.... Coren takes one side, I take the other. They'll either panic, or chose. Either way, it should split them enough to even the odds. Mucking up ships is a sort of talent of mine."

Julius had walked in, strapped in his gear he wore as a Judge. The heavy black leather coat was made of ablek hide, line with a phrik armorweave. It allowed him the maximum blend of movement, speed, and protection that he could achieve. Nodding to the others, he checked weapons. Lightsabers on his belt, a pistol on his hip, an a sly grin creeping on his face. Weakness was hidden well from his recent exertions, and he stood tall and straight, and walked easy, despite his physical limitations.

"I can't help much in the way of flying or such. But get me on that ship and i'll give them what for."


[member="Rosa Gunn"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]
 
Having his compatriots with him was always going to make this easier. Coren wasn’t nearly as specialized as Jorus Merrill in the Force, and htat was fine. He could stand to be a bit more mystical than his friend and mentor. It allowed him to jump to the front of a fight against the Sith and Dark Jedi and meet them on even turf, rather than through other means. It would allow the more creative combatants time to come up with a solution. He was fine with that. But here? He needed to be precise, and he needed people with a more varied sense of the Force.

“Yeah, like hell am I not bringing you right to Merrill. I just need them to doubt their sensors.” He nodded at Rosa. “As long as we get on board, they’ll know we’re there, with Julius and I causing some noise.” The best part of everything, right?

He nodded to his freighter and started up the ramp, as the team loaded up, he went through preflight. There were going to be automated defenses dropping down to cover the boarding ramp, as was standard with so many smuggling ships. And beyond that? An aging medical droid was going to help Rosa with what the Force couldn’t cover.

“Going to be launching, lets see if we can get there without getting fired at.” Having other members of the Coalition in space would help. And keep the pressure off. The repulsors warmed up and when given the signal, Coren lifted off and pushed his freighter on a course for the runaway Ta’jar vessel.

As was typical for the man, he had space garb, and his Power9. He’d grab his lightsaber before he stepped off.

[member="Rosa Gunn"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]
 

Fiolette Fortan

Guest
Objective Blue:

"Maybe we can help," Fiolette stated, "run the board on silent, flip us off stealth once we get close enough. Should be enough to spook the Ta'jar into chasing us, not so healthy for those fun guys in the Coalition, but I'm sure they'll manage."

Farrah smirked, "as you wish."

The Fleetwood ran silent and operated in stealth mode gliding through the abyss of space as the stars seemed to shimmer around it. While [member="Coren Starchaser"] prepared himself, the little personal ship crept up on the Ta'jar quietly, "move us to the starboard-aft." Everything was quiet and even as Kit walked up with a tablet in hand she remained still. She wanted to see what was going to unfold, the large viewscreen presented her with a generous view.

Three.

Two.

One.

The Fleetwood came to life right next to the Ta'jar ship and sat for about three seconds before, "gun it, Farrah!"

She pushed off away from the Ta'jar with the hopes of making it play fetch.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] | [member="Rosa Gunn"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
Rosa eyed Julius, healer eyes seeing more than he obviously wanted to be seen. She pursed her lips but said nothing, following them both into the Rising and settling into the seat behind Coren. While he ran through preflight checks Rosa settled back into the force and stretched out, linking first with Coren and Julius's minds before settling herself into the task itself.

Illusion blanked over the ship, skewing it from the Ta'jar's view. She snatched at the minds who's interest swung there way, technicians no doubt, or people close to view ports. Sensors readouts became system blips, and eyes saw only the meteor field. and the black space beyond it. A mental nudge to Coren was his signal they were clear to move in as [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] tugged other attentions away.

The faint hum of Jorus's aura was closer and she reached out to him. Hold on Jorus, we're coming.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]
 
The team had to get to work. Coren was glad for the assistance, because once he was out of the ship his capabilities became less. He was a Jedi Master, but he was much more comfortable in his ships. But he was fully capable. The fact that the allies were helping, and when he felt the nudge from Rosa, Coren pushed his ship forward. He had the target, the hangar. Sending out a burst transmission to [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], Coren smirked.

“Get Clear. Will stop guns.” He stated as he pushed the throttle and banked his YT-2000. The ship was hidden but he needed to keep [member="Rosa Gunn"] from stressing herself out. He had his fingers on the triggers for his turrets, and pushed his freighter into the hangar. It would be the easiest way in and out. Seeing some defenses, Coren began blasting the ships that were prepping for launch. The shields for his freighter came up to full as he touched down.

Tripping a few more switches, hidden surface-defense blaster cannons, a pair of them, dropped down. He checked his pistol and looked at Rosa. “You coming? Or going to prepare here, and we’ll get him?” He looked to [member="Julius Sedaire"] and moved to the ramp, grabbing his lightsaber on his way. Stepping down the ramp, his orange blade ignited.

He reached out, searching for [member="Jorus Merrill"].
 
A Universal Energy Cage would stop an awful lot of Force use. Jorus could still feel the Force, but with no way out he couldn't feel a course, and the cage prevented hyperspace shenanigans. Therefore he pretty much just sat in the cage and wished he had painkillers and a burger. That fight back on D'Qar, the invasion of Utapau - they'd wrecked him pretty good.

Fortunately, the pirates hadn't added to his pains. They meant to sell him to the Sith Empire, apparently, and didn't want to hand off damaged goods.

A couple of guards played pazaak on a table carved out of the asteroid. When Coren's mind touched his, Jorus did his best not to twitch. The guards noticed nothing.
 
To boldly alchemize what no one alchemized before
OBJECTIVE BLUE: Smash the Eight Ball

Location: Vergesso

"What do you mean, Ssssith often give away free ssssspots in flight schmool as a way to fill troublesome billets?" Lizard asked, while retreating away from the target.

"Starfighter piloting is a troublesome billet for Sith factions because of the high mortality rate, and other support billets, such as administration, logistics, are just as troublesome, if not more so. They just put very limited stock on starfighter combat, in the blue or in the black"

It was clear that Janick was one of those pilots whose sorties were mostly conducted in the black, that is, in space, but Utapau was in the blue, that is, in atmosphere, and the later stages of the battle on Dagobah were in the blue, too. But now that Janick sensed that the boarding parties were now closing in on the ship, and she hoped that they would be closing in on the pirate ship's aft quarter. Bad idea to have shown them declassified battle footage from Thyferra last night: it was all too clear just what rooms for improvement their training methods have! she thought, while flashbacks of that video replay were flashing in her mind. Now, it was clear that what the Sith call elites, in a piloting context, are actually not much of an elite, more like they would be regulars in any other faction's starfighter forces, and that solving the piloting problem will take a while, especially with a faction that big. But she now had to take ther group out of standard turbolaser range of the target, since even the port and starboard tractor beams may as well be heavy emplacements.

 

Mishel Kryze

Guest
Boracyk.
Vergesso Asteroids.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Ashira." Mishel began her prayer as she stood with her hands stuffed into her pockets, staring out into the open as an old Omegacruiserrusier came into view. "Or even if you'd listen to me, I'm just a human but what am I saying..." her breath left her as she turned away from the stars that lined the viewport. "You're the Goddess of the Eldorai and here I am asking you for help again." She closed her eyes and inhaled, a soft exhale as she lifted her gaze up to the empty corridors as she focused on what she was here for. Salvage, but what was the true reason for her being here? The new neurotransponder worked just fine, her new hand was fine and yet she still felt empty. "I'm quite fortunate actually, all things considered. I'm alive, and you've helped to see that the darkness will only give darkness and that the light that I sought was always inside but then why..."

It was all talk on Dagobah but she had to admit seeing [member="Hazel Zanteres"] on Coruscant made her remember why she kept going back to the Ren. They were family, they had accepted her, for her - or so she thought. Turned out, they wanted to turn her into this weapon and that didn't turn out as planned, and yet her master, [member="Samka Derith"] let her go. Why? Well. Mishel figured the retribution would come later. Still. "I know there are so many who are less fortunate than I, so I guess... I don't know. I don't wanna take up much more of your time, but... help me Ashira, blessed mother. Give me guidance..." Her voice trailed off as she grabbed her equipment.

The thud of the Boracyk reminded her of where she was. Mishel shifted her weight as she geared up for the trip through a dead ship, and as she walked to the airlock. She called to her mentor, [member="Ember Farseer"], "Ember." Her voice was quiet and somber, "can I ask you something?"

[member="Kaia Starchaser"] | [member="Tryp West"] | [member="Jackson Singh"] | [member="Runi Verin"]
 
A heavy thud of magnetic boots, only felt as a vibration due to vacuum, signalled the salvage crew's beginning of the 'restoration' operation. Or more correctly said - looting operation.

"We'll focus on tech. Going to head down to the reactor and engine bay. Those things tend to be durable on OP ships, or so the reputation says." Ember stated. As a child slave to the Black Scarfs, he'd remember the slavers struggling in escaping from Omega Pyre patrols.

They headed towards the aft of the ship when Mishel turned to him.

"Sure." He replied giving her a glance from behind his helmet before focusing back on their journey. There was something troubling her, he could tell. "Go ahead."


[member="Mishel Noren"] | [member="Runi Verin"] | [member="Jackson Singh"] | [member="Kaia Starchaser"] | [member="Tryp West"]​
 

Mishel Kryze

Guest
Some would ask for wealth, some for fame, or glory to shine on them.

Mishel secured her helmet, and thought on the question that was on her mind. She wondered for a second if she was even really worthy of following the Jedi's Path but felt rather foolish for asking. "Uh that thing you did on Utapau what uh, what was that? When you hit the first grenade?" It wasn't the question that danced on her mind but it would suffice. Slowly she unlearned the dark path that the Ren had shown her, but she would not forget it. They sought the glory of their father, the fame that came from being one of his prized children and the wealth of pride they swam in. Worth. What did that have for her? How much was she worth, was she deserving of this path. You chose this path, and you chose it long before Utapau and Dagobah, before you slammed into the rocks on Mustafar.

"Uh," she switched on her comms, "we're ready to go I think."

[member="Runi Verin"] | [member="Ember Farseer"] | [member="Tryp West"] | [member="Kaia Starchaser"] | [member="Jackson Singh"]
 

Nora Lithos

Guest
Objective: Indigo


“I’m sorry, they what?” Nora dropped the report in her hand and let it slide across the desk before she gave Karl an amused look.

The Jedi Knight in front of her gave off a quick shake of his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. His cheeks puffed with a prolonged exhale that ended with a quick chuckle at what he was about to say. “It seems they just can’t really… Stop.”

As hilarious as the idea of a non-stop ‘joyride’ — so to speak — was to the young Arkanian woman, she had to calm herself.

“Has anyone tried to make contact with these people yet?” Nora asked and straightened her back standing up.

“The Outer Rim Coalition.” Karl tried to do the same but struggled to wipe the grin from his face. “They sent out a message asking for help. One of our medical ships were fortunate enough to pass through within range on the way back from a routine mission delivering aid to the survivors on Utapau.”

“I see.” A contemplative frown spread on the young girl’s lips. “And where is that ship now?”

“They stopped while in range and sent message asking us what to do.” Karl finally managed to wipe the grin on his face and follow behind Nora as she made way out of her office.

“Tell them to make contact with the Coalition. We’ll send a few more of our people over and in the meantime, you will be in charge of the daily operations here in Sanctuary.” There wasn’t much he had to say on the matter. Her workpad had already been pushed against his chest and he grabbed it before it fell to the floor.

“What about you?” He quirked his brow and then looked down at the workload. It wasn’t exactly an easy workload, but perhaps that wasn’t what people had come to know Nora for either. He looked at the pad and then Nora who was already heading away towards the hangars.

“Hey!” He shouted. “This is a mountain of work!”

“Delegate, Karl. Delegate.” Nora turned around in her stride and raised her arms as if she was pointing out the most obvious thing in the world. “There is always more people around, you know that.” And then she let them flap against her thighs as she turned back around. “See you in a few days!”

“... Right, see ya.” Karl’s lips thinned as he looked down at the girl’s workload. Meetings, field trips around Monastery to spread goodwill with the locals, and upon closer inspection dedicated fifteen minute breaks for naps or meditation. “Delegate. Get help. Got it.”

Besides, when was the last time Nora had gotten a real break in the last few months?
 
As he followed Coren, a green lightsaber blade and a blue one ignited, sweeping up in flourishes to a dual ready. He swayed past the man with a smile and began slicing fighter tethers and refueling cables. Fires began, and one fighter exploded as his lightsaber ignited the fuel line mid-refuel. It was not a quiet, peaceful, or stealthy procedure he was doing. And if they expected that, they should have told him beforehand. The Force blurred his movement, lending him speed as he whirled, drawing fire. Nothing he did was really ruining much but the one fighter. Just causing a ruckus.

But anyone that didn't pay attention to the pure chaotic and unchained movements of the blademaster was going to regret it very soon as he moved towards a fuel hauler and a nervous looking ganger and his driver, stopping short with a smile and a shooing motion, to which both members bolted after having seen the Corellian essentially behaved like a deranged, yet destructive, frat party boy. His comms clicked.

"You're up in five, fly-boy"

With that, he stabbed the main fuel tanks' stabilization valve with one saber, and ignited the outgoing and incoming fuel lines in one fell slice with the other, and then immediately Folded Space to retreat back by Coren, the tanks beginning to whistle in impeding doom. He slumped behind a line of crates, gasping a bit for breath as a massive fireball bloomed in the center of the hangar.

With a weak grin and sweat on his lip and brow, he nodded to the other Corellian and grinned.

"Go on, I need a breather. I'll catch up."


[member="Rosa Gunn"] | [member="Fiolette Yvarro"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]
 
To boldly alchemize what no one alchemized before
OBJECTIVE BLUE: Smash the Eight Ball

Location: Vergesso

"We all know Sithies have been negligent towards conventional forces. The Sithies proper say that piloting is demeaning to them, even though you see it as a way to defeat the enemy when surgical strikes are preferred, and it should not be overlooked" T-account retorted.

"In fact, the average pilot flying under a Sith flag is brave to the point of recklessness, and, while brave, all they can do is charge headlong towards their target at point-blank range. Speaking of which, establish a perimeter away from the cruiser, and stay out of standard turbolaser range"

She had to grant them that the big bottleneck was, more than the hardware, where even a standard X-Wing would qualify as elite for them, qualified personnel, and also seemed to be widespread when it came to spaceborne stuff, was even bigger, knowing that one given admiral can only command so many units effectively and still be able to fight effectively. Now that they were outside standard turbolaser range of the ship, and that the boarders have actually boarded the pirate cruiser, she was reminded of Dokkalfarsed, where they had to stay out of range of an objective, but for another reason. Whereas Dokkalfarsed was about engaging pirates, and using proton rockets as essentially standoff weapons, here it's about heavy tractor beams, and their dangerous payload. I hope the boarders will come out of it OK, and save their primary objective they are there for, she thought, while she was flying around that perimeter being established outside of standard turbolaser range in an attempt to ward the boarders from other reinforcements the pirates may have called for.

 
[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Rosa Gunn"] [member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Fiolette Yvarro"]

A distant explosion shuddered through the asteroid cave. Jorus swayed and grabbed the bars by accident; he regretted it almost immediately, as the force field bounced him back into the middle of the cage. The Ta'jar Blood Gangers dropped their cards and drew down at - well, at everything. The door, the other door, Jorus in his cage...and being inside a damaged Leth energy cage was not Jorus' idea of a fun time. He raised his hands. "Hey, I'm not doing anything. Can't anyway."

One of the Blood Gangers growled something petty in Huttese.

"No, really, the cage works. Might not work if you shoot it-"

The pirate toggled a belt control, and the force field died.

"-or do that, I guess." Jorus threw himself to the base of the cage, not quickly enough. Blasterfire punched through his ribs, and cold pain blotted out all awareness, other than the whole 'cage floor to the face' issue. "Gorrammit, gorrammit-"
 
Baking heat washed over Linna as she slid in beside [member="Julius Sedaire"]. The crates offered just enough shelter from the mess. "That might be the most Corellian thing I've ever seen," she said, brushing sparks out of her hair. "I'm assuming you're Corellian." Empathically, he felt exhausted but satisfied, and unusually calm: some kind of Jedi or close enough. Maybe not even that close, come to think of it, not if he was vanishing and reappearing like that. Resent her father's legacy all she liked, but Linna Beorht, Ph.D., had a pretty decent idea of what normal Jedi abilities encompassed. Emergency teleportation featured nowhere on that list.

Then again, this was the Outer Rim, perilously close to Wild Space and the Kathol Outback. Strange things happened out here, and always had.

Her hair stopped smoldering. "Linna Beorht," she said by way of introduction. He might know the name if he'd followed Omega Protectorate politics back in the day, or Coruscanti right-wing talk shows. But HoloNet News Presents: Battle For Democracy was at least three invasions ago, and she hadn't been a face on Coruscant in just as long.
 
OBJECTIVE: Smash the Eight Ball

She had heard about it late that Jorus was in trouble lately she had her own problems. Ones she had not yet quite figured out how to fix. But it wasn't going to stop her from adding into the mix for Jorus.

The Midnight Star was making it's way through the dark expanse of space while her Captain, stared at the viewport. She had thought to message ahead to anyone within ORC who might be leading the charge.

So to keep from making a large faux pas she did send the message on the ORC frequency.

"Where do you need me, what do you need me to do" Jorus fixed her ship that meant a lot to her, so least she could do go find him. But hey didn't she go looking for him on some ice planet not too long back. She might have to wing it. She had a few of the usual toys with her, and had managed to pick up some gear that would let her...well..dangle in space.

She had to think though there were risks in what she was doing right now. Risks that she prayed didn't have consequences.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Rosa Gunn"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] |@everyone else involved
 
Work to be done, and friends to rescue. He had his team with him and that was all he really needed. Stepping off the ship, Coren looked around the hangar. With the team that he was working with, it was just a matter of time. The Force followed the Corellian as he stepped into the hangar. As a slow starter in a fight, he was just reaching to be able to knock the team in the hangar back.

Getting a location on Jorus, Coren noded. He had Julius here on the hangar, with Rosa ready to receive. “Cover me.” Coren said as he fired a few shots towards the door, using his lightsaber to reflect shots back at the incoming. He tucked behind a set of crates. Another deep breath.

Looking over his shoulder, and over the crate, he nodded. The Force surrounded him, and molding it to himself, he threw it out to stun the incoming troops before standing, lightsaber deflecting the stray bolts coming at him as he entered the halls. It was time to get his friend back.


Still on the Tachyon Rising, Porter, Coren's faithful droid got the message from Rekha. Tweeting and sending out proposed flight paths, sending the Midnight Star to meet up with other ships on a protective path of the ship Jorus was on. Once they were getting the FTL Specailist off the enemy ship, they were going to be focused on retreat. Rekha was going to have to take an offensive-defense point.

[member="Rosa Gunn"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Rekha Kaarde"]
 

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