RC 212
HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPO!
RANDOM SHIP
Vergesso Asteroids
Alas twas that time again. After a successful raid on Nar Shaada, with his war coffers full RC was on the hunt. Now that he he had crew to throw around, and extra money to pay follow on mercs, the dreaded warship of sickly green glided smooth as a teardrop from Hypserspace, right outside the weapons range of Vergesso Asteroids.
Aboard RC munched on a PB & J sandwich as he assessed the situation. At the far end of their empire, lets be real that's what it was, the ORC seemed to be lacking in Naval Power. All that fun at Skor seemed to have sapped them. Either that or it was a trap and he couldn't see where the rest were hiding. Regardless he was here for money and infamy.
"Fist Mate, prepare the Heavy Mass Drivers. Ready all fighters!"
A grizzled Zabrak with a patch on his eye nodded, barking the orders across the bridge. The crew scrambled to tap the commands into terminals. This was no ordinary Pirate vessel. They were a well oiled and drilled machine, run by terror and decades of Special Warfare, and Conventional Warfare experience.
"Weapons ready Cap'n."
RC wiped the back of gauntlet across his mouth, getting rid of some jelly.
"All existence is futile. Y'know that first mate?"
The first mate glanced at him, confused as all hell.
"I uh??? You ok Cap'n?"
"Hmmm I will be."
Then he rose, ramming his helmet over his head, T visor lighting up blue and ghastly.
He clasped both hands behind his back, and his voice modulated now uttered his next command.
Vergesso Asteroids
Alas twas that time again. After a successful raid on Nar Shaada, with his war coffers full RC was on the hunt. Now that he he had crew to throw around, and extra money to pay follow on mercs, the dreaded warship of sickly green glided smooth as a teardrop from Hypserspace, right outside the weapons range of Vergesso Asteroids.
Aboard RC munched on a PB & J sandwich as he assessed the situation. At the far end of their empire, lets be real that's what it was, the ORC seemed to be lacking in Naval Power. All that fun at Skor seemed to have sapped them. Either that or it was a trap and he couldn't see where the rest were hiding. Regardless he was here for money and infamy.
"Fist Mate, prepare the Heavy Mass Drivers. Ready all fighters!"
A grizzled Zabrak with a patch on his eye nodded, barking the orders across the bridge. The crew scrambled to tap the commands into terminals. This was no ordinary Pirate vessel. They were a well oiled and drilled machine, run by terror and decades of Special Warfare, and Conventional Warfare experience.
"Weapons ready Cap'n."
RC wiped the back of gauntlet across his mouth, getting rid of some jelly.
"All existence is futile. Y'know that first mate?"
The first mate glanced at him, confused as all hell.
"I uh??? You ok Cap'n?"
"Hmmm I will be."
Then he rose, ramming his helmet over his head, T visor lighting up blue and ghastly.
He clasped both hands behind his back, and his voice modulated now uttered his next command.
"Fire!"