Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Invasion Some Like it Hoth [Galactic Alliance Invasion of First Order Hoth|Bespin Hex]

OOC info

OOC Thread

Post Headers

Invasion Terms
Date to begin: 19th May 2017
Size: Hex
Location: Hoth Hex
Parties Involved: Galactic Alliance (Offensive) vs. First Order (Defensive)
Duration: 21 Days. If both Factions agree it can be halted at 14 days or extended to 28 days.


As the staging point of the First Order incursion into Alliance space as well as the primary source for unrefined tibanna gas in the Galaxy, literally fueling the First Order’s mighty war machine the Anoat sector represents a key target for the Alliance. Even well defended, Alliance High Command has recognized the grand opportunity to strike a critically fatal blow to their foes and sever the direct connection to vast swathes of this vital resources and cut the supply route of the First Order into their recent conquests.

  • 4 Characters permitted per Writer
  • Ground engagements:
  • An actual post will be required to affect the transition between space and ground (Landing) for the attacking side. Landing craft, shuttles not engaging enemy ships etc. not considered part of main space forces.
  • Forces may move between systems and ground engagement zones within the thread but should leave a reasonable travel time provided
  • NPC’s will be used only as background noise and must be described in the immediate vicinity of the PC and not elsewhere. Killing NPCs is permitted as flavour kills, but the opposing side is not to write vast incompetence of the enemy’s soldiers, nor slaughter them wholesale. Please keep it within reason.
  • Main engagement zones are defined below. Anyone entering these zones must be willing to engage with the other side to attack/defend the sector through any means they see fit. These zones are the main focus of the Invasion.
  • Exception: nobody can sink Cloud City or Tibannopolis (keep collateral damage to canon locations to a minimum)
  • No neutral parties are permitted and Allies must clearly label their posts with which Faction they represent.
  • Space Battle
  • Each Player Character may captain a single capital ship.
  • 6km total per side in addition to this for NPC capital ships
  • It’s assumed other vessels exist in the background of the engagement but don’t take part in the PC-led space battles.
Main Engagement Zones

Outpost Veers (Echo Base)
Once, the world of Hoth was home to the victorious Rebels of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, who held onto the lingering echoes of hope until the Galactic Empire - who had scattered them to the winds after their defeat at the Battle of Yavin - had found their secret base and swept aside any resistance. Now, Eight hundred and some years after that resounding Imperial Victory, the tables had turned. The First Order have built a large installation on the site of Echo Base and the Alliance must deploy forces to remove their key military presence from the system.

FIS Kuragin (Galidraan class space station)
Having been ,able to identify a First Order Fleet Command station orbiting the world of Anoat, through the scans bequeathed to them by their allies in the Underground, the Alliance has sent a force into this sector to sever the head of the serpent. Alliance forces attempt to disable or commandeer the station whilst First Order attempts to defend it.

Cloud City
As the primary source for unrefined tibanna gas in the Galaxy, the gaseous world of Bespin acts as one of the key worlds within the Imperial’s sphere of influence. Alliance forces attempt to land on, and take Cloud City from the First Order
  • Calrisian Plaza - Resting on the highest level of Cloud City, Calrissian Plaza is a scenic city square overlooking the rest of the landscape for the residents of Bespin to enjoy.
  • Hilikan Incineration Plant - A large structure employing hundreds of labourers, the Plant is made up of multiple floors which specialise in the break down and recycling of specific parts of the various droids, machinery, transports and starships sent there.
Ison Trade Corridor (Indellian Gateway.)
Though the Ison Corridor was a relatively small hyperspace route that branched off the Corellian Trade Spine, it housed one of the greatest sources of Tibanna Gas in the Galaxy, making whoever controlled this sector of space astronomically wealthy. The First Order have used a nebula as the stage to halt the Alliance advance into the sector.

Allies: [member="Raze Lyter"]
Objective: Hold Bespin orbit
Fleet: (I'll sort links later I'm mobile)
ANS Viperous | custom MC60 cruiser
ANS Dauntless | Peregrine class frigate
ANS Shriek | Strike class
Subversion | Subversion class
Epsis | Subversion class

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His bridge crew had slowly learned how to interpret the sound of his cane against the deck. Vilin could reveal every shade of his mood with that cane. The cadence of the best, it's volume, even the timbre of the sound told a story. Today he was purposeful, focussed. There was little urgency to the noise.

The bridge of the Viperous hung from the central tower of the ship. Commodore Vilin Nor still hadn't made his mind to about all the glass. It was a Mon calamari design. He preferred some good durasteel between himself and the vacuum of space. Logically he knew that they were shielded and protected, but he felt vulnerable, exposed.

“The Temperance is still with us?” He asked as he took his seat.

“Yes sir, all in formation.”

The bridge was clean white. That meant that with the wide, clear glass it was now bathed in the blue of hyperspace. They had broken away from the main fleet and punched through towards Bespin. They had several contingency plans if the First Order set an ambush, but would need to stay mobile.

This was a bold plan. The First Order had significant defences in the sector and for good reason. It was the launch pad for the sorties into Alliance space and the source of their tibanna gas. The time for questioning the plan was long gone. The Alliance wasn't a large bureaucratic government. Each world was - for the most part - free to govern themselves. But the Triumvirate had the final say when it came to military action. Lean and effective, when the order came to plan and carry out the assault they worked it up and distributed orders. Vilin knew his place in the hierarchy, knew his part for the engagement.

“Everything is good for Captain Amedgenar's plan?” He called. Vilin was proud that he didn't used the word 'insane’. Whilst he was aware that the SIS carrier had advanced hyperdrive engines, coming out into the atmosphere of a gas giant seemed exceptionally risky to him. Perhaps the devaronian simply lacked that will to put his neck on the line that the SIS crew all displayed so often.

“They'll be there moments before us. Thirty seconds.”

Vilin watched the galaxy rush past them. Peaceful. Hyperspace was always peaceful. His long fingers slowly closed around the arm of his chair, suspended on an arm that could swing about to give him a view of an entire engagement. The first battle, the first step towards building a trust between captain and ship.

The vortex became streaks. Then it became the smooth orb of Bespin.

“All ships form up. Prepare the boarding parties. Send the message. Let them know to evacuate civilians from Cloud City or to hunker down in housing sectors.”

“Aye sir.”

It wasn't a long warning, but it still was one. The hammer would come down upon the First Order fleet and Echo Base on Hoth but this had to be a precision operation to excise the First Order from their source of tibanna.
Allies: [member=Adder] [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]
Objective: Clear space around Cloud City. Escort U-Wings

His ship groaned around him. They were pressurising the hangar deck to match the altitude they were expecting to come out at at Bespin. Of course, Asmus had been led to believe there was a margin of error. A margin that extended between 'we went to far and now we get crushed to death by the pressure’ and 'we’ve emerged above Bespin and you're sitting ducks’.

Still who didn't like to live a little?

Asmus just wanted to live a little longer.

“Wraith Squadron, warm up your engines. We are reverting in moments.”

The lights on the hangar deck floor changed colour. Asmus tried to keep his focus on the immediate and not think about the chance of instant death. It wasnt that easy. His fighter was ready, he knew the plan. There was nothing to distract his active mind.

The deck of the Subversion ran from prow to stern and was currently full. A mix of fighters and bombers at the front and cloaked U-Wings at the rear.

“Reversion in ten…”

Asmus pushed power to the engines. He found a spot in the forward bay doors and focussed on it. He felt the reversion. He stayed pleasantly alive. The ship shuddered as the bay pressures matched to the depth they’d emerged within the clouds of the gas giant.

“Wraith standby. We have reverted and are levelling off.”

“Holy kark we did it!”

The doors slowly swung open and the thick clouds billowed in. They had pulled off a lightspeed reversion into the very clouds of Bespin.

“Go go go!” Asmus called. He was pressed back into the chair as the Subversions hangar tractors assisted his launch and sent him out into the clouds. The fighters pulled hard right and started to gain altitude to rise up above the clouds whilst the U-Wings would cloak and head left to follow a different path.
Location: Bespin, Hotel Suite
Allies: [member="Elliot Locke"], [member="Canal"]
Enemies: Alcohol, Women, Hangovers

The world was spinning.

His legs were warm.

He wasn't wearing any pants.

Jorg let out a loud groan, sounding like a maimed Bantha attempting its last starving cry for help. The soldier hung over the side of of a still bubbling hot tub, bottles of wine and beer lay strewn about everywhere, a line of white and red powder intermixed on a nearby mirror just a few feet in front of him. Another groan escaped him as he shifted slightly, his weight pulling him back.

He jumped slightly as he slipped into the hot tub, his eyes bulging open as he realized he'd fallen into a pool of water.

The Soldier immediately jumped up and out of the water, standing within the middle of the tub and looking around to figure out where the feth he actually was. There was a large gash on the side of his face and his lip felt as thought it was swollen. He frowned for a moment, looking down at the hot tub.

A small piece of black lace floated on top of the water, bouncing against his leg. For a moment he frowned, then scooped it up with his index. He noticed a small tag on the inside of the lace, his eyebrow raising slightly. "Cassandra."

The Soldier frowned, having no memory of anyone with that name.

For a second he stayed in the hot tub, the piece of lace dropped once again into the still bubbling water as he tried to figure out what exactly had happened. With a slight frown The Legionnaire slowly moved toward, taking hold of the edge of the tub and pulling himself up. He slowly slid off the edge of the tub, finding that his feet didn't quite work. His grip tightened as he held himself aloft.

"What." He said quietly to himself. "The frak."

Jorg wasn't entirely sure if he was dreaming or not.
Aboard The Aurora Hawk

Real space gave a small tiny white blink among the many others as the Aurora Hawk joined the heavy stream of typical traffic heading towards Bespin. The Warden of the Sky had adjusted had been to the planet many times, given no trouble at all. There wouldn't be a need to stop her.

GeeTee, her GT-F0 droid shimmied along behind her, watching her every move along with DOT. AL, her L1-AL Series Protocol Droid, loudly protested behind her, [ Mistress, this is a terrible idea! Far too dangerous! ]

Amidst the upbeat melody of 'Come and Get your love,' Chloe broke into a wide smile. "Perhaps, but when has anything not dangerous been any fun?"

[ We are doomed!] his metal arms rose up, the droid waddling over to her.

"Just gonna talk to some ol' buddies Al" bright blue eyes bore ahead at the gas planet. Cloud City was just out there, as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She had made it her home from time to time, traveled to the markets and the lower levels, done some shipments and cargo hauling and made several friends. Friends she was aiming to connect with again along with new ones ([member="Kaili Talith"]) to meet up.

"Meet them all here..." guiding her ship, the blonde woman directed herself along the rest of the standard traffic that were all heading towards Cloud City. A landing port would be there for her to dock on charging the same standard fees. There was, after all, comfort in familiarity.

"Rrawawaahhhh," Hodarr, her Wookiee companion had joined her for this trip. As had Verine, Joa, and Mari. Full crew and only more to come.

"Yeah I know, but we gotta do it." swiveling her head towards the dusky orange planet, Chloe gave a determined sigh and set her shoulders.

"Can't stand to the side anymore."
Location: Hyperspace
Objective: Fly fly
Allies: [member="Naomi Carolina"]
Enemies: First Order

He breathed quietly inside of the helmet of his flight-suit, his fingers wrapped around the controls, his eyes wandering slowly around the blue lines of hyperspace that all seemed to surround him.

There was a calm that surrounded him, one that most likely wouldn't have expected in a time like this. It was said that pilots had ice water in their veins, that part of their job was not to get excited or nervous, that they were made to stay calm and still. Xel had no either whether or not he actually bought that, mostly because he remembered times when he'd nearly shat himself from fear.

Granted one of those times he'd been shot down, but still.

Yet this time there was none of that emotion. There was none of that fear. Instead there was only a calm, something that told him everything would be alright. His fingers tightened around the controls, his eyes flicking towards the screen. He watched as the numbers slowly began to drop, his eyes flicking towards the outside of the ship to see if he could spot any of the vessels he'd left with.

The idea was a bit silly of course, Hyperspace didn't really work like that, but it still helped him to do it.

They had picked up an escort of a few X-wings on their way, mostly to protect them while they swooped in towards the target area. It was a good measure really, mostly because B-wings weren't exactly meant fort dogfighting. Sure they could weave around a bit and dodge some TIE's, but Interceptors? They'd be cut to ribbons. So it was a good thing they had some friends around.

Or so Xel hoped.
LOCATION: Ison Corridor
OBJECTIVE: Control the Corridor
ALLIES: [member="zark"], [member="cathul thuku"], Galactic Alliance, Freedom
ENEMIES: First Order, Fascism

ANS Argent Dawn - Hull | Shields
PFS Ironclad - Hull | Shields
PFS Stormwall - Hull | Shields
ANS Ghostwall - Hull | Shields
ANS Phantom - Hull | Shields

Alexandra Morrow sat in her ready room, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands, and a virtual screen littered with reports in front of her. In the background there was soft music, which was helping to soothe a headache that had reared up an hour previous. The chocolate was helping, too. The reports, however, were not. There were reports from the intelligence community about the amount of commerce done in the corridor, along with reports on the systems it directly fed. Hoth, Anoat, Bespin, half a dozen others at least. The First Order was entrenched here, but pushing them out of it would do significant damage to their economy. The talking heads in the Alliance figured that would keep them from trying to push at the Alliance for a while. Alexandra didn't share that sentiment, war very rarely followed logical paths.

No, this wouldn't stop the First Order, but Alexandra was happy they were pushing back for once.

She took a sip of the hot chocolate, and waved the screen off. Lexi stood and moved to the virtual window at the side of the room. It showed the mottled lights of hyperspace. The Argent Dawn was her new flagship, one she had had a hand in designing. It was a far cry from her normal tactics of being fighter heavy, favoring a devastating offensive and defensive capability. With her new flagship she had two escorts from her newly minted Phoenix Fleet. They were, likewise, ships that favored a strong punch instead of a fighter swarm. Though, they were significantly smaller. They were the main pickets of her force, meant to be a surgical strike instead of a hammer. She imagined she saw the outline of one of them, out to aft and port of her flagship, but it was hard to distinguish things in hyperspace.

There were two other ships within her command, though she knew she wouldn't be able to see them. Stealthed Leviathan class monitors, a hearkening back to the aquatic naval days when submersible attack crafts struck with impunity. They were tucked in very close to her flagship, the elite crews inside of them planning to use her cronau wake to mask any that escaped their significant stealth systems when the ships entered real space.

A soft siren preceded a recorded message. The fleet was about to drop into real space. There was a First Order picket along the corridor, and intelligence pointed to it being a good place to stage a fleet action. Take it, and they essentially controlled this section of the corridor. Lexi regretfully left the virtual window. When she reached the door she touched a panel, and the virtual window was replaced by bare bulkhead. She took her mug of hot chocolate and made her way to the flag deck.

"Report." She said as she gained the flag deck. She finished the hot chocolate and gave the mug to a steward to take care of. The flag deck was a self contained bubble of armor. Virtual screens were up at every console, as her flag staff was busy coordinating with the staff of her ships. Tight beam communications had a short range, but the ships of her fleet were very close together.

"We will reach the translation point in sixty seconds. It should put us at long range from the central picket area, but we don't have any up to date data on the disposition of ships there." Her chief of staff reported from the command seat. He vacated it for one to her left as she approached. She sat in the command couch and pressed a stud. Information assaulted her from virtual screens. She made them mostly transparent and reduced the number of them for the time being.

"Have all weapons crews lock in, I want active scans the moment we are clear of the cronau wash. Have the Ghostwall and Phantom break off for their assignment as soon as they are clear of the cronau wash, full stealth." She ordered. Her chief of staff nodded, and began to talk into a mic, relaying order to the staff. "As soon as able after translation, establish a secure network with the other parts of the Alliance fleet." This she ordered directly to her communication officer, who looked rested and ready.

"Translation in ten..." Her navigator announced to the ship.









There wasn't even a blink from the ship. One moment they were traveling through hyperspace, and the next they were in real space. Cronau wash masked her sensors for a critical instant, but nothing rocked her ships or hit their shields.

"Active scans. Establish a link with our other ships and ping the rest of the fleet." The communication officer went to work, establishing a tightbeam link with the ships of their fleet, then sending out pings on secure Alliance channels to Admirals Cathul Thuku and Zark.

"Argent Dawn to Alliance ships, we are setting up a tactical network via plan Besh." Lexi heard the communication officer say into her mic.

"Sensors showing First Order ships at long range. They don't appear surprised, though. Intel must have been right, they have some early warning systems setup."

Alexandra nodded, and waited a moment. She took a deep breath in and looked to her chief of staff.

"Are the monitors away?"

"Aye, ma'am. They are out of the incidental casualty zone, and will be outside of tightbeam range in three minutes." He replied, checking his screens as he spoke.

"Excellent. Let's begin. Long range weapons, target the lead First Order ship. Focus fire." She ordered.

In the span of a minute, Alexandra Morrow's fleet of three ships appeared near the Ison Fleet Corridor picket. They oriented on the First Order ships, and opened fire with weapons. These were state of the art weapons, designed with the First Order shield strength in mind.

Anoat Sector
FIS Kuragin
Aboard the Aeon Flux

Thousands of transit civilians pass through the Anoat sector every day for a variety of purposes. Trade, luxury travel to reach Bespin, or simply going from the Corellian Trade Spine from one end to the other is a standard affair. It was this high intake of travel by the everyday man that this particular Galactic Alliance Mission to strike at the FIS Kuragin Galidraan Space Station where it hurt.

Within the bridge of the Pathfinder-class Long-Term Exploration Craft dubbed the Aeon Flux, Micah eyeballed the crew of SIS agents and Alliance Galactic Defense Forces that would be fighting with him today. They had a full crew, cargo, and back up shuttles in the hold covered in sensor jamming Baffleweave fabric and strategically placed sensor dampening no show electronics used by smugglers and agents to keep scanners from readily identifying what they may be carrying. The transponder codes identified this particular Pathfinder Exploration craft as an independent vessel for a small company. Nothing out of the ordinary beyond the normal scope in the scanners, exactly what an exploration vessel may have; high-grade technology to be used to study and scan wherever they may travel.

Docking procedures were as normal; it was a busy mid-day, that’s why they timed it during high mid-day traffic. After all, the Galidraan-class defense station served as sector command for six sectors, Anoat, Dosuun, Thakwaa, Val'Hala, Vortusa, and Tel'Erra. They became more than just sector command stations, serving as trading, medical and points of service for the government and various diplomats. Sitting at 2,800m in length the Galidraan was comparable to stations from the archives, namely the Vaiken-class Spacedock. In fact, that was exactly where the First Order Corps of Imperial Engineers drew their inspiration for the exterior.

Scans from their Naboo allies gave SIS and the Alliance a bit of a clue into these massive space stations. Deducted to be a strategic point in the coming battle, control of this space station would be critical to taking the rest of the system.

Orders were orders, terms of engagement directed that civilian casualties be kept to a strict minimum, which is why the time of day was important. Estimates suggested from intel that mid-day had a lower civilian population in comparison to high traffic morning times or low traffic night. Many used and stopped at this station simply to make a living that was not even affiliated with the First Order. That is why the use of knockout gas and methods of quick neutralization through nonlethal means pushed this particular mission forward -- although to be frank, with how the First Order had utilized weapons of mass indiscriminate death through neurotoxins, none of the Alliance members were getting into this without proper protection. Each now wore a special PharmaTech Hypoinjector wristband that would provide the first line of defense were they to come across such gasses used on Mustafar and Skor II.

They were here to resupply, the Pathfinder class joining civilian traffic on the way to the station. The crew of the Aeon Flux along with the rest of the normal civilian traffic watched through the wide viewport the mass of ships flying to and forth from FIS Kuragin.

@Vexan was near, as were other key personnel sent to come with this mission with him. He wasn’t the only one though. They would come under the guise of several dozen civilian ships, each to do their part.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Micah stood watching. Dark forelocks fell over his brows, his wide orange eyes narrowing as he considered what they were coming to do. How it would all work out. The corner of his mouth gave a twitch, and with a small tap of his foot, he brought up his bracer. There, he activated the holographic display, forefinger swiping left to go through the extensive index of songs. He needed something with a Little Rock to it.

[member="Allyson Locke"], his sisters significant other was here somewhere, hopefully with less black lace panties and something more fitting. There were also a few others. He could have sworn he saw some speckled blonde( [member="Spark Finn"]) with her nose stuck in a datapad. Maybe he should go look for her??

They were to meet their contact, and if everything turned out as planned, well, they’d be talking about this day for a long, long while.

"Just take it in nice and slow. Just your standard everyday deep space exploration vessel, paid to gather independent information for big time map agencies like G.U.I.D.E." plugging in his earwig into his left ear, the guitar rift prompted a roll of his shoulders and an easy going grin.

Yup, this would be something the First Order would never expect.
Location: Space
Objective: Save the Padawan
Allies: [member="Jamie Pyne"]
Enemies: First Order

"Are you sure about this?"

The gruff voice rang out as Aela slowly wiggled herself into the Jedi Vanguard armor. She had not worn it since the Liberation of Coruscant, and there were still one or two deep gashes within the Asheran Armorweave that decorated the outside of the skin tight suit. She frowned slightly as she finally managed to pull the rest of it on, wiggling again as she tried to make it more comfortable. After a moment she was satisfied, slowly pulling the bodysuit closed so that the environment seals could fall into place.

"Of course I am." She told the soldier to her right. "I need to rescue her"

The Jedi Master frowned for a moment, glancing at the bracelet before looking at the Legionnaire.

The man frowned, but then slowly nodded his head. The soldiers were all used to this of course, or they had been not too long ago. Officially Aela had retired from the 5th Legion, the SIS, and in part the New Jedi Order. she was no longer supposed to be running combat missions, she was no longer supposed to be fighting. Yet she had been at Mustafar where Jamie had been captured, and now she was here when her padawan needed to escape.

Aela saw the situation for what it was, and though she didn't like it she would always come to rescue her padawan when it was necessary. Her lips thinned for a moment, her eyes glancing over towards the small screen on the corner of the room. They were still a ways out, but there was a reason for that.

She had spent the majority of the time since Mustafar campaigning the New Jedi Order and High Command to let her take the initiative in retrieving Jamie. She had asked for fleets, ground support, and pretty much everything else that she could have. They'd said no of course as a matter of pragmatism. Aela and a few hundred soldiers against the Entire First Order? That wouldn't have gone well. Eventually they had capitulated however, allowing her a glimpse of the planning for Hoth. It was at that point that Aela had butted in once again, practically forcing her way to command of the 5th Legion, if only for a brief while.

Aela was here to get back her padawan, nothing else.

She didn't care what it took, she didn't care what she had to sacrifice, and she had made that clear. Every person on the small corvette with her knew that, and they all knew what they would come to expect. The 5th Legion however knew the risks, and they were not only loyal to Aela, but Jamie herself. Most of them had spent a great deal of time with the Padawan, they knew what she was and they were willing to risk it all to save her.

That was what the Galactic Alliance inspired, loyalty.
tinker tailor soldier spy
Location: Bespin, Hotel Suite
Allies: [member="Jorg"], [member="Canal"]
Enemies: This headache.

Something was pounding against the frame of his skull.

It hurt.

It was also insidiously insistent and prevented him from noticing much of the weight currently hanging on his body. He groaned and the hand that wasn't somehow stuck went to his head, the hammering subsided slightly, but was still present to a degree. Fingers rubbed against the bridge of his nose, eyes trying to remain shut and closing themselves away from the disgusting light filtering through the window.

Some distance away from him he was hearing a male voice.

Wasn't it familiar? Didn't Elliot know this voice somewhat?

"Jorg." Lips tasted the name a few times, before Locke gritted his teeth and spoke against his own instincts. "Can you stop yelling? Thanks."

He tried to raise himself, pushing himself up with his free hand, only to notice that the weight against his body was moving in tandem to himself. Eyes finally opened themselves and he realized that it was a lady.

Brown? No, that didn't seem right, ah, chestnut.

She was sleeping on his arm and they seemed to be on a couch. All around him was rubble - bottles of substance, cigarettes...... mirrored plate with.... feth me, wh- "What the kark happened?" Locke finally managed to push her off of him, before his bare feet were carefully placed on the sticky floor.

His nose hurt, he suddenly realized.

A careful touched confirmed him.

"When the feth did I break my nose?" Even breathing was becoming painful, as sensation was returning to him.
OBJECTIVE: Commerce, maybe with a side of smuggling

Keric dropped the Aurora out of hyperspace. In front of his face, the viewscreen was blocked by the massive cargo containers he was pushing. Each filled with some of the most expensive absorbant clay on the market. That's right, each container weighed in at over 40 tons in a one standard gravity environment, and was filled to the top with a mixture of zeolite, diatomite, and sepiolite. To the common person, it was really expensive kitty litter. To the upper echelon of several galactic governments, it was the only litter of the quality that their feline pets deserved.

The fact that Keric was able to pick this lot up on Tatooine for a quarter of the trans shipping cost he was getting paid here at Anoat by a high end pet store only made it that much sweeter. The fact that he picked it up at the same facility that the bargain priced kitty litters were manufactured and sold just made it funny. It was almost like robbing the rich to feed the poor, if he considered himself to be poor.

Cause that money wasn't going to do anything but make his life that much easier for a long while.

That, and pay for maintenance on Aurora.

"Anoat Control, this is the freighter Aurora. I am transmitting my cargo manifest and merchant authorization now." Keric responded to the automatic hail from the Anoat station. It was honestly massive, and Keric tended to stay away from such massive monuments to governmental workings, but this mission paid too well to pass up.

"Janta, we'll be docking soon." He called back out of the cockpit. He heard a far too girly squee in response, and he couldn't help but smile. He knew she had wanted to come with to Anoat because of certain luxury items that couldn't be found outside of First Order space. He couldn't remember for the life of him what it was, but he assumed it was either some kind of new auto wrench or something he was just fine not knowing about.

He set his ship to a course that took him towards the merchant docks. They were equipped to handle the massive crates filled with clay and the machines to make sure they didn't clump in the intolerable cold of the vacuum of space.
Location: Bespin, Hotel Suite
Allies: [member="Jorg"] [member="Elliot Locke"]
Enemies: Vacation
Objective: Something™

His body and mind were both overwhelmed.

But by what? He couldn't remember, nor could he remember whatever the heck happened yesterday. All he did know was that his muscles were weak and refused to obey his commands, and his head just got out of some roller coaster ride giving him a migraine.

What he did do was give out his best groan, resonating throughout the suite.

His eyes opened and realized he was on a huge bed. He was shirtless, and he hoped he still had his pants on underneath the sheets. The curtains were open and let in the morning sub of Bespin; there were bottles of liquor around the room that were either finished or unfinished. But what got his attention the most were women clothes littered on the floor and the bed.

No, no, no, no...

Finding the only way to move, the clone began to roll to his side. Before he could even roll off the bed he noticed a woman that was lying down on the floor, right below the bed. He sighed and buried his face into the mattress.

Location: Hyperspace, with Varonat in the distance. En route to Anoat.
Vessel: Calrissian Class Freighter with updated Sensor Mask and cargo hold painted with Sensor-Deflector Spray
Objective: Anoat First Order Space Station
Allies: [member="Taheera Sollo"], [member="Micah Talith"] Galactic Alliance
Enemies: Currently unknown
Equipment: Amphistaff, standard hold out blaster. Other equipment will be assigned

Molten orbs looked quietly towards the floor. Even with all the repulsors and technology, furniture within the ship seemed to rattle against the metal decking. Credits were all but depleted in keeping it afloat. The silence was nearly deafening, words unspoken left the audio of engines and secondary systems do all the talking. For him, it was the welcome change from running through the forests of Varonat. With the lowlands left far in their wake, he recalled gripping that green hand hard and turning towards the spaceport. The taste of betrayal still lingered like copper in his mouth, or perhaps that was just the gnawing he committed to prevent further harm.

He had not felt anger in some time, indifferent to the world around him. But for the worst sin, it seemed to awaken emotion within his breast. And as he heard the words, detailing the acts that the captain had committed, he wondered if he would have killed the woman had Harla not been there. If she had not been present to stay his hand. Perhaps, if she wasn’t there, he’d be in a much different circumstance than now.

“Let’s not mince words…” An officer of the Alliance stepped forward, ranks and insignia not readily apparent across his shoulder and chest. In fact, Maalik was caught off guard with just how similar he appeared to a regular civilian. “You all are lucky we found you. But your lucks about to run out.”

Maalik remained silent, looking back towards Taheera who sat across from him. She seemed more at ease than the Vong. Was this the Alliance she spoke of, with such fond tone?

“We don’t have time to take you back to Sullust for you’ll have to go with us.”

Where? ” Maalik piped up, his words lacking any tone or purpose. He wasn’t even sure why he was asking, with choice so apparently removed.

“That’s classified.”

Then I won’t go. We won’t go.” He stood up, his glare as cold as it was calculating. His gaze shifted to a few guards standing by, hands turning white with grips on their holdout pistols. Maalik allowed a small smile as the man approached.

“You’re lucky one of our operatives was down there. You left her to die in that cavern. If she didn’t speak so highly of you, you wouldn’t be standing here.” The officer sighed and straightened out his suit. “You’ll know soon enough. And once we finish our mission, we’ll take you back to Sullust.”

Sulon. We were headed to Sulon.”

“Sulon then. Jedi Knight Sollo, is that fine with you?”

It was a good chance she was better informed than the combative Chiss hybrid, stuck into a metal can and told to dance. He had a task to carry out and beyond everything else, that was his truest sense of purpose.

Without waiting, the officer did his best to console them. “Don’t worry. A quick shot past Bespin and we’ll be there in no time. You may have not noticed, but we’ve already engaged hyperdrive. Speak with the Lieutenant about your...wardrobe.” With that, the officer was gone and the silence resumed.

Maalik was quiet, as he cradled his hands, listening to the engine purr. Deep within the belly of the ship, beyond the people who were working on navigation and custodial duties and manning various services, the cargo hold was relatively full. Large blankets of CN-15 camouflage netting obscured what lied beneath, in the form of equipment and replacement dropships, and the hold was darkened from a thick coat of sensor deflector spray.

​Just then, the Lieutenant approached with a handful of clothing. Looking towards Maalik, the man scoffed. "Second thought, you'll blend in just fine. We'll get you some...more appropriate equipment."

Location: Space → Bespin
Allies: [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Gabriel Sionoma"]
Enemies: FO
Gear: Bio, yer regular ole flight suit

Time to take the fight to the devil itself.

Eyes on the prize, Adder. Eyes on the fething prize.

The prize, in this instance, was a well-organized Galactic Alliance fleet piercing into realspace above a gas giant. Rendered irredeemably ugly in pastel shades of dirt, Bespin loomed below them. Underneath that cream-thick cloud cover sprawled the First-Order-held complex of hovering cities.

And lower still, its vast reserves of tibanna. The only desirable thing about a planet the color of spoiled stimcaf.

Adder side-eyed her own beverage, still steaming hot. In preparation of the hyperspace drop, she’d already affixed her Nerve helm, engaged all the auxiliaries, and started her fighter’s systems.

It also meant the only way that caf was going in henceforth was via the induction port.

Oh, yeah. She’d thought this through.

The lurch of reversion hit her gut like a long night of looking down the bottle. Biting her lip, Adder kept her wits and shot out of the hangar along with the Wing Commander. It was a simple plan; a beautiful plan, even.

But that simple plan ended with their simple death nine cases out of ten. A handful of fighters against the world?

“Give ‘em hell, Janes.”

Crap odds were still odds.

Location: Tamanen

The air was always so close here. No matter what he wore it felt as if there was always a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin and clothes. Raziel changed the angle of his walk to cross the street, weaving between landspeeders moving slowly through the rush hour traffic. He turned into a store front and kept walking.

There was a plain wooden door at the back of the shop and he pushed through it without slowing. He slowed his pace as he passed through the stockroom. Blessed was the air conditioning back here. Another unmarked door and he walked into something akin to an executive reception. The man at the desk wore a crisp suit and sat behind a slender data terminal.

“Room three,” he said quietly. Raziel didn't even reply. Trained eyes noted the weapon scanners built into the walls of the corridor he passed through.

He took a right into the third room and found himself in a small office. His First Order handler looked up from his terminal for just a moment.

“You have it all?” He asked.

Raziel palmed the data disk from thin air and placed it carefully on the table. “That should be enough for incrimination and there a little bonus material.” It amused him that the moment he handed it over the First Order would likely classify it such that he couldn't even see it himself as an outside contractor. Of course he lied and kept copies himself. Far from a small organisation his spynet was far reaching and if the First Order stopped paying there were always alternatives.

“We don't pay bonuses for above the brief. Very well. I have, wait a moment please.” The middle aged man narrowed his eyes at something on his screen. “Your organisation might just have another job right away. We need an individual extracted from a potentially hot zone. How soon can you get a team together?”

“Right away,” Raziel replied. This sounded dangerous. That meant lucrative. “And perhaps you'll pay bonuses for dropping information to keep your sloppy rookie agents in one piece next time?”

Raziel was given a look of scorn. He politely ignored it.
Location : Bespin, Refinery Intake
Objective : Scrap Items, Get Credits. Also, Meetings.
Allies : Credits, Mr.Zej, Galactic Alliance ([member="Chloe Blake"] potentially later)
Enemies : Back breaking labor

School was out for summer. It meant picking up a tradition that had remained in place since he was eight years old : salvaging with Mr. Zej. The large Pantoran took him every year for months on end into the black, picking up wrecks and learning the ins-and-outs to the salvage side of the business. So far the Heir to Salacia Consolidated had been out collecting in an asteroid field not far from Bespin. The crews had slowly made their way to Cloud City and its well known refineries.

Which gave him another business lesson , negotiations with the Ugnaughts on a fair price for the use of their refinery. His mentor was able to secure a three-month contract at a fair price, including the contract hiring of a few Ugnaughts that could actually melt the scrap into valuable metals.

What Mr.Zej had failed to tell him was Ugnuaghts were extremely hard and industrious workers. Makai wouldn't say the pace was slave-driver quality, but it wasn't far behind. Salacia workers, including himself, were breaking down their haul into pieces that could actually be melted quicker and easier. Or at least thats what their slave-driving Ugnaught overlords told them.

Deafening sounds of sledgehammers against metal filled the cavernous space. Makai found himself breaking apart consoles from large vessels, removing the durasteel from the valuable smaller metals - silver, nickel, bits of gold all found in the electronics.

A grunt from an Ugnaught, the creature going to the portly Mr. Zej, overseeing the operations. It was too loud to hear but Makai noticed a lot of pointing. Angry pointing.

"I don't think they like our pace. " Makai teased, trying hard not to laugh.

"Don't laugh, we might be dead by lunch at this rate."
Allies: None Nearby - [member="Aela Talith"]
Enemies: The First Order, [member="Castor Ren"]
Location: Prison Cell​
Been sitting eyes wide open behind these four walls, hoping you'd call
It's just a cruel existence like there's no point hoping at all
How many hours? Days? Has it been days since he locked me behind these four walls? Time in isolation left Jamie with more than a dozen questions. Questions she'd asked in part to Sieger had been answered in cryptic riddles and circular language. All she could do was replay that conversation between herself, Castor, and Sieger over and over again, analyzing every aspect of their demeanor, appearance, and tone of voice. To listen to the subtleties in their words, to pick apart the meanings buried beneath implications.

Castor Ren said:
"We shall see if the Alliance listens to the words of one of their own. Perhaps they shall see the wisdom in your words but as for me, my path has been decided. Blood will be repaid with blood until there is no more left to drip. Unless of course your comrades heed your wisdom, and instead aim to bring an end to these hostilities." He paused for a moment, then pointed towards the door. "Remove her from my sight."
The man's voice loomed within her thoughts more so than the less-than-gentle escort to the cell she now called home. The First Order was hellbent on bringing the Alliance to its' knees, by any means. That, by itself, implied that Naboo would one day be center stage for their conquest. But order and stability were already made home on Naboo. Her people were safe, they were intelligent and innovative. They were sovereign. They were a gem in the galaxy. Naboo itself was the very definition of serenity and a symbol of peace. Her own words had been dissected by Sieger himself, broadcasting a misconstrued message to the Alliance and to her home world, but to what angle?

There was also the predicament she now found herself in: Trapped in a prison cell. There was light coming from the dusty transparisteel window on the far wall opposite the cell she was in. Dim as it were, it cast small rays into the room, allowing herself some semblance of separation between night and day. By her guess it was early morning. Sleep was hardly something she was afforded, given the pain in her back that lingered ever more. The injuries sustained on Mustafar were still very much in the process of healing, and the skin that had begun to nurse those wounds was raw and delicate. A finger traced along the bandage across her back, pausing once it could bend no further. A sigh escaped her, and the noblewoman sat back down atop the least comfortable bed she had ever been afforded.

The cell itself was as one expected, barred, cold, unwelcoming. Despite the decision not to bind her with Force Restraints, there was little in which Jamie could do to force her way to freedom. The hope was that Castor or Sieger would see the wisdom in releasing her, though the idea of that had slowly become less and less likely the more she considered the words he spoke. If she were to attempt an escape, it would need to be through surprise, where she had the upper hand temporarily.

For a moment the tall blonde closed her eyes, allowed herself a glimpse of respite, of calm and peace. The Force welled within her, though there it remained, controlled, calculated. Her breathing steadied, drawing in deep and releasing slow. The band on her wrist had not been removed, oversight by Castor and Sieger, as well as the others, to imagine the girl had some sort of connection to or with the Force, and, by extension, Aela Talith, from it. Jamie wasn't quite certain how well these bracelets worked just yet, but hopefully the former Jedi Master would feel that her pseudo-sister was safe, at least, in the most general sense of the term.

The ship shook as it ripped itself out of hyperspace. With the galaxy on high alert along the borders of the First Order and the Galactic Alliance there was just no point in bringing the Odessa for this. Not because it would be inconspicuous, which it wouldn’t have been, but because for all Kaili knew she was on some sort of list that would bar her from entry and she would rather not risk having her ship taken from her by people she knew she had no chance of getting it back from. Call it a healthy dose of paranoia. Besides, it was hard to be a ‘warden’ if you didn’t keep up with the lives of those that were to be considered your ‘wards.’ While Bespin wasn’t along the route that Kaili usually patrolled it was still the place where one of her contacts had told her to go in order to meet someone she was ‘most likely gonna wanna see, kiddo.’

“King beats Queen.” Came a coarse grunt from the man in front of her.

Kaili snapped out of her daydream. “Wha-”

“King beats Queen, what’s your next move?” The man looked at her with an expression as bored as it got.

“Uh, I’m out.” Kaili stammered, still dumbstruck by being torn back into reality again. She put a small stack of credits on the table before bowing out of the game and took her leave.

The girl had pondered for some time now who it was that her contact was trying to set her up with. There were few people Kaili ever really wanted to meet, and they were all a message or two away from her. This would have to be someone that she had told her contact about at some point, but the girl couldn’t for the life of her figure out who it was.

The captain’s voice echoed in tinned static across the ship.

They were approaching orbit in twenty. It was time to strap in.

[member="Chloe Blake"]​


Well-Known Member
-- -- --
Academy of Bogan | Hoth
Status: Escorting Prisoner [member="Jamie Pyne"]
[member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Brennan Cabrol"] | [member="Kaalia Voldaren"]

Enemies: Galactic Alliance

-- -- --

Castor’s grip on the woman loosened as soon as the duo passed through the doorway into the long corridor. Her blindfold had not been replaced - an oversight perhaps on Castor’s part but for the moment he remained oblivious, merely guiding the woman the way they’d come. Part of him was confused. Though he did not question the Supreme Leader, the Knight was often left wondering what grand machinations did occur within his mind. He’d seen the girl’s own words used against her, transmitted straight towards Naboo - but would they believe it? It had been transmitted with a DNA identifier - the girl’s blood confirming that it was in fact Jamie Pyne who had been captured - not missing as might have been believed before.

As their footsteps led them down the frigid corridors, they passed no one - an eerie silence settling over the Academy of Bogan. In his mind - a voice, none other than the Supreme Leader’s.

<< My Knights of Ren - I call upon you now, assemble to me. >>

Ominous. Castor’s body still ached, desiring rest and recuperation though now it seemed as if that were but a pipedream. Instead Sieger had called for them - or at least some of the Ren. Castor, close as he was to the upper hierarchy knew little more than the next. Silence eclipsed the two as they wound their way through various passages, some larger, some smaller - all wrought with the chill of Hoth. Arriving once more at a turbolift, Castor unceremoniously brought the two into the car and activated it. The sudden drop caused the Knight’s stomach to rise despite being accustomed to the sensation, no doubt the girl would feel it doubly so. After a brief descent, the lift halted, doors opening to reveal a small open lobby, a descending staircase off to the right.

“On you go…” said Castor, pushing the woman out of the car and towards the stairs, his footsteps bringing him up behind her. “...Down the stairs.”

He motioned down the spiraling staircase, the very walls carved of ice. Darkness enveloped the majority of the descent, though a flickering light could be seen down below - torches periodically set into the walls of frozen ice. As they descended, a chill went down Castor's spine. Something seemed amiss though he couldn't place what. He kept waiting for Jamie to try an escape, to get the drop on him - but it never happened. Even as he'd directed her into the cell she seemed compliant if nothing else. With a grimace, he activated the forcefield that would contain her before turning without a word and retracing his steps. He would let her sit for now - until another course of action became apparent.

--- --- ---

Deep within the facility, Sieger Ren paced first one way across the platform, then the other. As Castor and Jamie began their journey towards the holding cells, he rose from his throne - a quiet ringing in his ears causing him irritation. In fact it had been that very sensation which had cut his audience with the notable Jamie Pyne short. As they’d left, he’d issued a subtle call to his Knights of Ren, at least several of them - there was something brewing… what however had yet to be seen. A low snarl escaped his parted lips, his fists coiling and uncoiling.

Resigning himself to his irritation, the Supreme Leader sat himself upon his throne once more, fingers idly drumming against the armrest. It had been some time since he’d been this perturbed, a sense of foreboding itching at the very edge of his consciousness. Subtle was the Force, and its movements hard to decipher - attempting to do so now was near pointless. Settling in, Sieger closed his eyes. First there was darkness, his mind brought to a still as he focused solely on the void, nothingness.

As he focused his energy on the void, he began to picture the planet of Mustafar, the fiery crust sparking to life before his mind’s eye - and then he was there, upon the surface. A quiet shadow amidst the jutting crags and flowing magma. He spent several minutes exploring the surface, his shadow traversing the terrain faster than any human might be able - and then the pain. Pain shot through his mind - something else. The shadow on the surface of Mustafar dissipated rapidly. The feeling took over, that foreboding presence. His eyes snapping open, Sieger nearly uttered a curse as he began to realize what had been bothering him. As if to confirm his suspicions, a quiet chirp sounded at the small console mounted to his throne.

*The Alliance. Just as I feared.*

With another snarl his eyes flicked towards the doors leading to his throne room - he could sense the other Ren beyond - his followers. Raising a gnarled hand, he activated the doors and beckoned, his voice rising above the steadily rising sound of alarms.
“Come to me… my children.”
-- -- --​
As he wound his way through the corridors back towards the Throne Room, Castor felt a sense of urgency. Just ahead he saw others of his Order and heard the Supreme Leader's voice - he would obey without hesitation. Long strides moving him forwards, he came up behind them and followed into the chamber.
skin, bone, and arrogance
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ishana Pavanos"] | [member="Nils Brenner"] | [member="Ishana Pavanos"][/SIZE]​
[SIZE=11pt]Galactic Alliance[/SIZE]​
[SIZE=11pt]Get rich quick[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]“Two of coins,” Pierce said as he skidded the card across the table to stop in front of [member="Nils Brenner"]. “No help.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Pierce, Nils, Ishana and the rest of the fighter pilots were arrayed around a table in the officer’s mess, unwinding from another day of testing in and around the Galidraan station FIS [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Kuragin[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] over Anoat. A raucous round of Sabacc was underway, and the dealer chit was in front of Captain Fortan. Brenner had had two fives (one staves, one coins) and the two brought him to 12 -- a far cry from 23 with only one more round to go. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Next was [member="Ishana Pavanos"], who had had a rough night thus far, had a hand that looked promising: a six of coins, a seven of sabers. A ten could give her a natural sabacc, but at the rate she was going, she was about to get a three. He turned over the card, giving Ishana an enigmatic smirk. “Ten of sabers! Natural Sabacc!” He tossed the card towards Ishana. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Four of coins,” he said, dealing to the next pilot. “No help. Nine of sabers,” he tossed the next card. “No help.” He looked at his hand; things were looking grim for him; he had a two of sabers and a three of flasks. Not an ideal hand at this stage in the game, but if he lost this hand (and he almost certainly would) he’d still be ahead overall. He took a breath and turned over a card for himself. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Sorry, Ishana,” Pierce said, flipping over the card so the table could see it. “Idiot’s Array. Bloody [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]grim, Pavanos. Good thing you’re a half-decent pilot -- all right, a [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]brilliant[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] pilot -- because your luck is [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]poodoo[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt].” He smirked, then wheeled his head around towards the door as a minor alarm tone chimed. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“All stations, report. Scanners indicate spacecraft presence.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Not so fast,” Pierce said, holding his hand up. “It’s got to be another damned false alarm, and we’re not scrambling our fighters while half of you owe me money. Oh, and -- Ishana, since you haven’t got any chips left, we can settle up with your drink rations for this week, yeah?” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Another chime. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]“All stations, report. Scanners indicate spacecraft presence. Galactic Alliance signatures detected.”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]“Oh bloody hell,” Pierce breathed. “All right, all right. You, you, and you,” Pierce said, pointing at three other officers. “Remember what you owe me. As for you two,” he said to Ishana and Nils, peering at them over the rim of his spectacles. “I know where you live.” He buttoned his flight jacket to a more professional degree and strapped his sidearm to his thigh. “Let’s go see what fresh hell is coming our way.”[/SIZE]

Magnus Ren

Location: FIS Kuragin Space Station
The Executioner's image wasn't something that was common knowledge within the First Order, less so out of it. There were brief instances where the man's face came up in HoloFeeds in relation to murder investigations, or even missing persons reports, though typically, within minutes of his face being broadcasted, it was removed - as if it had never been showcased in the first place. What came after that was an announcement of the primary suspect being located and apprehended, and that was the end of it.

It was for this reason that Magnus and his partner, [member="Aralu Sar"], were moving through the throngs of people on the FIS Kuragin. Underneath the overbearing trenchcoat he wore, Magnus sported the segmented pieces of armour that numerous members of the Order of Ren used. Sieger Ren had summoned the Knights of Ren to Hoth, and Magnus and the Disciple in his care had stopped at the Kuragin to resupply.

And now they were returning to the hangar bays.

That is, until the Space Station, a waypoint between dozens of planets within the sector painted black and gray walls red.

It was a red alert.

Is the Station under attack?

Magnus' dark gaze swung around as he came to a stop in the midst of other bewildered visitors. A voice came over the intercoms, breaking through the sound of shocked cries, white garbed stormtroopers standing at attention and at multiple junctures throughout the dozens of corridors - assaulted by visitors and their inquiries.

:: The Sector is under assaulted. Confirmed sightings of Alliance Forces over Cloud City and within the Ison Corridor. ::

Magnus blinked.

The FIS Kuragin's abilities for long range communications were ideal to hold up.

Sieger forgive me.

But he wasn't going to be making it to Hoth.

To the Command Centre, came his orders through the Force before his nimble form weaved in and out of crowds that were being ushered to the hangar bays.

Naturally, with the vast Station under red alert, the likes of incoming traffic were rerouted. Within, the typical avenues that were open to visitors were shut down by the formerly hidden turadium barricades that slid out of slots in the walls. Trooper squads were breaking down into fireteams to locate and scour the Station to locate occupants that should've already been enroute to the hangar bays.

Magnus saw all of it as he came across a trooper waypoint... It was going to take some convincing. And as if that didn't make things hard enough, the same voice from earlier came over the stations intercoms.

:: Station Shutdown Imminent. Any ships and visitors still onboard will be implicated as terrorists and placed under arrest. ::

[member="Atham'aali'kema"], [member="Keric Dynt"], [member="Micah Talith"], [member="Taheera Sollo"]

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom