Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Sugar and Spice [SOV Dominion of Kessel]

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COME ONE, COME ALL!

A race for the ages. Sovereignty-sponsored and featuring the esteemed and legendary Team Aurebesh as headliners, come watch daredevil stunts be performed in and around Kessel's famed asteroid fields in the respectable Kessel Cup. Last-minute entries accepted and welcome but must pay double the entry fee.


Perhaps flying isn't your style? Maybe you'd be up for abolishing the Monarchy instead.

No, really -- Kessel's royal family has maintained a slaving status quo for hundreds of years. The Sovereignty is not a fan of this, preferring the use of droids in the Kessel spice mines instead of forced labour. In private meetings, they have not acquiesced to our demands for Sovereignty support; so it's been decided by high command that perhaps others would be more interested in agreeing instead.


Covert Sovereignty operators and soldiers smuggled on-world, under the cover of the Kessel Cup, will assassinate key members of the royal family and turn key government officials to our side. They will take the Kessel Royal Palace for the Sovereignty and plant the seeds for a transition government under SOV control, then eventually we will install our own royal government led by someone chosen and trusted by the High Sovereign himself.


Additionally, the soldiers deployed onto Kessel planetside will liberate the spice mines from slavers and operators sanctioned by Kessel royalty. By capturing the mines, the Sovereignty will control Kessel's economy.


Whilst the Kessel Cup is a race, the true contest is now between Sovereignty soldiers; who will fall first? The spice mines, or the royals?


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Kessel features a famously dangerous asteroid belt that is difficult to navigate. A race is being held within it, with quite a substantial pot of credits & other various rewards up as the prize for the winner of the bout. Team Aurebesh, social media moguls who are famous for daredevil stunts, are said to be in attendance. Which has driven the hype and excitement around this dangerous enterprise practically into the stratosphere. State-sponsored and welcome to all, Sovereignty pilots will;
  • Participate in the famed Kessel Cup race
  • Survive the asteroid field
  • Alternatively; Observe the race as an honoured guest
  • Alternatively; Protect the race from interfering Swoop gangs & pirates attracted by the notoriety
This objective is best suited to: Pilots, Corsairs, Passive Characters (Attending as a guest), navally-minded characters (To protect the race)

(( Anyone is free to attend if you'd like to say you paid the entry fee! ))


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The Kessel Cup's track is a vaguely round course built around the asteroid field that surrounds the planet. The scale of it is immense, the risk even more so -- But the rewards are far greater.​
First place will receive 100,000 credits and receive a luxury estate financed by the Sovereignty on Kessel itself. ((Subbed for by us!))​
Second place will receive 50,000 credits.​
Third place will receive 25,000 credits.​
Everyone else will receive discounts to certain Sovereignty-sponsored starship outfitters for their troubles.​
Entry fee is 10,000 credits.​
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Whilst the Kessel Cup provides excellent cover, our men have been deployed planetside to quietly undo Kessel's monarchy to install their own government in its place. Doing this will grant the Sovereignty complete control of the planet and her people. Under the cover provided by celebration, Sovereignty operatives will;
  • Stage a coup against the Kessel royalty
  • Persuade local governmental figures to side with us
  • Take the royal palace of Kessel for ourselves, killing any opposition (Siege)
This objective is best suited to: Rogue-type characters, Stealth-based characters, SONI operatives, AECO operatives, diplomats

(( SONI operatives will be leading point on this objective, but there are plenty of things for even passive characters to do. ))

Whilst AECO and SONI operators execute missions against specific members of Kessel's royal family, diplomats and smooth-talkers associated with the Sovereignty will secure the loyalty of government officials on Kessel to ensure that transitioning power will be as seamless as possible. Those targeted for 'black-site storage' or even death are primarily the King, Queen, and their associated relatives ((It's up to you who these people are, what their appearances are or their personality traits)).
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Famed for their wealth, Kessel's spice mines are practically a fountain of gold. We need that fountain for ourselves, in order to finance our operations in different systems. With this in mind, using the race as cover, troops have been dispatched to various locations on Kessel to secure their mines for ourselves, liberate the slaves within, and terminate any resistance met. To capture the spice mines of Kessel, Sovereignty soldiers will;
  • Enter the spice mining facilities, seize means of production and kill any slavers/enemy resistance met
  • Free the slaves and rally them against their masters
  • Secure the already-produced spice
This objective is best suited to: Soldier characters, mercenaries, characters with vendettas against slavers

(( You know what to do. ))

Sovereignty troops are planning to hit the biggest spice mines on Kessel first then work their way to the smaller ones once dominance of the planet has been assured. Troops are being provided with extra ordinance -- to distribute among the slaves -- along with a few rations in the event relief is required. Sovereignty troops are to deal with the slavers as they see fit, either capture them for trial or kill them on the spot.
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Perhaps you have personal business to take care of on Kessel? We're also open to accommodating any personal stories you might wish to tell, either on the planet or during the Kessel cup.


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[member="Aeric Saigo"] [member=Ahdaka] [member="Amadi the Banished"] [member="Arador Kahn"] [member="Caine D. Slarr"] [member="Cassus Stoma"] [member="Cato Marek"] [member=Ceqi'zer'ari] [member="Cynan Hague"] [member="Dinah Vekarr"] [member="Dom Sicarius"] [member="Dorn Skirata"] [member="Inyri Takan"] [member="Jeremiah Wynarn"] [member="Kaira Ignis"] [member="Koda Fett"] [member="Lagertha Wirbelwind"] [member="Lavidean Dramath"] [member="Odin Stormbreaker"] [member=Proxy-1] [member=Proxy-2] [member="Roella Arwyn"] [member="Savoh Iaht"] [member="Shaun Irons"] [member="Thom Betna"] [member="Tobias Zieba"] [member="Tytos Ardik"] [member="Helix Syndicate"] [member="Urwin Darmos"] [member="Vestille Thumahra"] [member="Zedd Harkor"]
 
Sometimes it was just fun to unwind. With the Alliance fighting the wars that Jared wasn’t quite cleared to jump into, what he could do was offer assistance to allies. And that was no more awesome than when the assistance being offered was helping ensure the safety of a race. Were there other ways for him to do so rather than the seat of the new Starburst Courier? Yeah, probably.

Was he going to investigate those? Hell no.

Jared was waiting for the signal in the new little whip his family’s company had set up. It was a fun little ship that he knew could make this run fast, maybe not as fast as his freighter, and sure as hell not as fast as his father’s but… It was good, and was going to give him the proper vantage point for glory seeing the threats to racers.

Right, he was racing. And watching for threats.

But mostly racing. Could they start yet? His hands were on the controls, and he was ready to show what Starchaser Enterprises could do.
 
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so don't let them steal your light.
don't let them break your stride.


From behind her mask, a wicked grin danced across the Zeltron's face.

Now this, this is racing.

Well, to be fair, the race itself hadn't begun yet. It was just tune-ups and warm-ups for now, other competitors tuning their vessels for the upcoming dance. Racer Z stood by her sleek blue vessel, a pleased text expression being projected onto her lenses as she, a welder in hand, touched up a section of the right wing. She knew the other Aurebesh members were around here somewhere, though she wasn't quite sure where.

A few stray sparks from the welding tool trailed up to fizzle out against the leather of her mask, focused solely on ensuring the Sulit was up to the racing task demanded of it. Of course, it would be, but she'd take any advantage offered over the competition. She had a show to put on, after all, as she always did. From within her mask she could already see her feed going insane, the heads-up display offering various windows displaying datastreams alive with buzz about what was about to go down. 'Aurebesh at the Kessel Cup?!' The fans were going wild over the idea. That meant donations, which meant she could put food on the table.

100,000 credits would put food on the table too. Food on the table of a big fancy mansion. Might be a nice place to lay low one day.

"Chit." Z grumbled, the voice scrambled slightly as the welder drifted too close and briefly singed her gloved hand. Setting the tool down and perking her head up past her fighter's nose, to the fellow racers prepping. Her blue hair was tied up and hidden under a hood that helped to obscure any hint to identity. Hiding the pink skin was harder, but with her flight suit and studded jacket, it covered as much as it could.

Not everyone's gonna make it out of this alive. That's what the crowd wants, though. They like the death.

The cockpit of the Sulit slid open and with little help, the small Zeltron hopped up into the comfortable pilot seat. A few flicks to certain switches and the engine of the flighty little ship roared to life. It was time to join the rest of the racers, and to start her stream.





[member="Xerxes"] [member="Ashaiya Tser"] [member="Jared Starchaser"]
 
Varik Ice
Equipment: Lightsaber - Armour
Location: Kessel
Objective: 2
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There were advantages to his status, it seemed.

As he was led up one of the outside staircases, Ice's eyes glanced to the warm, fake waterfalls that flowed below the walkway he was now on. His feet gently pressed down on small puddles and the general dampness of the place, as he saw one of the garrison escorts glance back at him, more to see if he had slipped and fallen than anything else. He was wearing no helmet, which was a surprising show of graciousness on his part, at least in most Senators' opinions. He usually did no such thing.

As he reached one of the inner gates, one of the guards stopped and turned, facing him. Varik stopped as he did, staring back towards the guard with little amusement, or expression across his face. The soldier simply held his hand out, not speaking a word. Varik knew what he wanted, though he considered intentionally acting as though he didn't. He decided otherwise; there was no need to cause more issue than there could be, and it would be safe enough.

Ice unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, putting it into the soldier's hand. With a nod, he took it aside while another two began escorting him further towards the main building, waterfalls cascading down on either flank of him. He was approaching the large gates now, and the Throne Room wasn't much farther. He was curious as to whether or not his backup would be there already, or if he would have to handle this himself.
 
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Location: Kessel Asteroid Field - Viewing Platform 7A
Objective: Schmooze
Present: [member="Nilia Saavilin"]

Viewing platform 7A was built into the side of a large asteroid, one close to the starting line. Close enough that the racers themselves could be seen. Unfortunately it did not provide a good view of the rest of the winding, labyrinthine track. That was why various holoscreens were set up for the live broadcast, transmitted rapidly from various camera probes set up around the track. It would offer a more complete spectating experience that way. Aside from Tytos, this level of the viewing platform was crowded with other upper-class spectators. Royalty from the planet below, businessmen from elsewhere, politicians from surrounding systems. Everyone enjoyed a good race.

There were a few reasons the Syndicate, and by extension Tytos, had shown up here. The Hell's Heralds would be busy on the surface, cleaning out slavers and petty criminal outfits from the spice mines below. Ten grand had also been loaned to some Kroctari racer with the assurance that he would land in at least third place - enough to pay back the Syndicate's investment, plus interest.

If he failed, well, the debt would just have to be extracted some other way. But all this was secondary. As it happened, Tytos had a vested interest in what would happen to the spice mines once the undesirables were all gone. Would the mistakes of the Silver Jedi be repeated? Were they just going to shut down all the spice mines and leave Kessel out to dry? Doubtful. Something told him the Sovereignty would be a little more imaginative in governing the spice planet. They were far more pragmatic, and that meant far more willing to listen to do good business. The Syndicate had been of some military use on Zenith Prime and would be of some use on Kessel.

No reason to stop there.

The High Sovereign himself was indisposed, but he had it on good authority that the Senator from Eadu - Nilia Saavilin - would be observing the spectacle from this platform as well. She was a popular enough Senator, so if he successfully lobbied her support in determining the fate of the spice mines, the rest of the Senate would follow through. Either that or he would have to grease the palms of some other gaggle of Sovereign Senators. At least if he tried this first, he could save some money. The Umbaran checked his chronometer and surveyed the crowd again before making his way over to the bar. If he was going to wait, he might as well find something to drink.
 
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Lord Admiral Zedd Harkor
Location: Kessel, Kessel System, Kessel Sector, Outer Rim Territories
Objective: 1
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Indeed, this would’ve been a classic example of guard duty.

Being on guard duty, however, would not mean that the Sovereign Navy would sit on it’s rear, while devious pirates and swoop bike racers plotted their intrusion. As his experience and education had previously taught Zedd, why wait for something to become a problem? Swoop Gangs and pirates were a notoriously unpleasant setback of life in the Outer Rim Territories. The race would no doubt attract a repertoire of pirates or swoop bike gangs. To establish an array of offensive security measures would serve as a preemptive line, before a band of pirates or a swoop gang would became a problem. An adviser-class Carrier would serve as the flagship of the Sovereign Navy’s presence in this endeavor. Harkor specifically equipped this ship with an advanced array of sensors to detect any pirates rich enough off the plunder of innocents to afford any sensor masks.

Harkor then deployed manifold fighters, racing out of their respective hangars, to run patrol operations on the asteroid field surrounding Kessel in search of any lurking forces, as these forces also would ensure an individual level of security for the racers that were present.

“Lord Admiral, sir?”

Harkor stood at the helm portion of the bridge. His arms tucked behind his back, as he stared out to the stand of the race. It wasn’t until a lieutenant, inquiring of his name, spoke up from behind in a relatively lonesome bridge, interrupted Harkor’s sight, as he casually turned around to face the Lieutenant; “The race is about to begin, sir.”

“I was just observing that, Lieutenant.”, spoke Harkor. Harkor turned away from the Lieutenant, turning to look at the race down below. “What is the status of our forces, in our ‘joint operation’?”

“They’re in position, sir.”

“Good.”, spoke Harkor, walking away from the transparisteel viewport of the bridge; “Enjoy the race, Lieutenant.”
 
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Objective: REDACTED | Kessel
With [member="Varik Ice"]
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The lightsaber weighed far less than he'd expected.

Tosin "Junker" Vlekir, otherwise known as Tobias Zieba, had been lucky enough to land a spot amongst the royal guard. While your typical governments possessed an intensive screening process for lower ranked personnel, forged documentation of previous work guarding those working in the spice mines and years of hard work had pleased the Captain of the Guard enough to elevate his status.

Tosin looked down at the mythical weapon eerily before his gaze rose to the meet the High Sovereign's. "Thank you, sir."

And with that, he turned to lead the man and the other two guards towards the royal palace.
 

Savoh Muska

Guest
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Location: Royal Sanctuaries
Objective: Infiltrate Royal Palace

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Well one thing was for sure, spice pays good. No wonder the Sovereignty wanted this planet. Just looking at the royal palace would make anyone want what they got. Nonetheless he had a job to do. He was gonna take the sneaky approach, while their palace is going through a siege he'll find a way in through the chaos. Then head straight for the royals private quarters. Take them alive if he could. He didn't like killing, at least now he didn't. So if he could he'd walk out with them, but if things got complicated he'd have the most high valued hostages on the planet, no, the whole system.

Savoh was outside of the palace walls. Covering the large property. Armed private security patrolled the along the grounds, but there was plenty of areas to hide behind the neatly trimmed bushes. Crawling his way through the grounds he got himself to the palace and hid in the vegetation, avoiding the patrols until he figured he was ready to act.
 
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With: [member="Tobias Zieba"] [member="Varik Ice"]​
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Alyson knew her way around royalty, she was one after all. She grew up learning how to navigate the convoluted incredibly complicated fuedal system that Merides operated on, compared to that this was child's play. On Merides it was unbecoming of a leaders status to not openly display a weapon while in public, which made it incredibly frustrating not to have it on her. Every noble had their own personal weapon, given a unique name, crafted by the finest smiths. The quality of these weapons was was a show of status, Alyson had two.

The first was a special weapon, Dominus Ferrum, The Lord's Blade. The Lord was the original Emperor of Merides, who millenium ago pushed back the sith menace and united the warring kingdoms into the first Meridian Empire. He was a jedi lord, and when he died he imbued his spirit into his blade, to guide the his successor. He knew it would be a long time before the right person came, but he went through with it anyway. The blade was blown into 3 pieces when the reactor it was used to power detonated, sundering the continent, the 3 pieces were finally united by Alyson, naming her as the true successor to the Meridian Empire.

The second weapon is her personal vibroblade, made as a more obvious display of her status. This blade was named Potentia de Caelum. Might of the Heavens. The blade was in the style of a typical longsword, with an aurodium hilt. The blade itself bore an inscription in Meridian, the true phrase known only to her and the person who inscribed it.

She had turned in her lightsaber to the guards when she went in just like the others, she had decided to show up early as a matter of principle, if she was early, she could not possible be late. Meanwhile in orbit some of her best men awaited in dropships, quietly waiting for the right time to strike. They were the Meridian Ghosts, the closest thing Merides had to modern special forces. They were experts in close combat, stealth, tracking, and wilderness survival, Alyson had found military strategists who were able to rework the skill set of the average Meridian into a doctrine for a deadly fighting force. They would be useful when the time came.

Alyson quietly awaited for Varik to arrive, leaning up against a wall by the throne room. She wore a rather modern looking outfit, more so than usual, jeans, gray t-shirt, leather jacket, and a shoulder pauldron bearing the Meridian Imperial Seal. She had decided to go like this as an attempt to blend in at least slightly, no need to stand out, not to mention she did not think that they would appreciate the military getup. As Varik walked by her she moved her way up beside him.

"Good Evening High Sovereign."
 
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so you can throw me to the wolves; tomorrow i will come back
leader of the whole pack.
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So many people packed into one-- arguably --small locale was getting more claustrophobic by the moment.

As Nilia picked up a glass offered to her by a waiter, she reflected on this fact. 7A was no more full than the other various observation decks that had been constructed years ago for the Kessel Cup's running, but still, it seemed the deck closest to the racetrack held far more participants than it probably should. A white, off-transparent magnetic field protected the guests aboard the large asteroid base from being sucked into the vacuum of space whilst offering a far more dramatic and clear view of the starting and finish line than other materials might have.

Her eyes drifted from the eager racers preparing for the beginning of the race to the crowds mingling around her. She hadn't just come to witness a race, for she knew something of what was happening on the planet below. Kessel would be theres' today, through force, whilst under the guise of pleasantries. It was almost poetic. Taking a long drink of the exotic wine on offer by their gracious hosts, the young Senator kept her ear pricked for any who might be bold enough to approach her this fine racing day. Whilst, for all intents and purposes, she appeared the meek politician; but Nilia had the bargaining power of the entire Sovereignty behind her, and that was a part of the game now being played.

Those seeking her favour for the future of Kessel would be here today, and it was her job to assess them. Determine who among the sleazeballs would be best suited to a lucrative deal involving Kessel's precious spices. That was a resource now no longer controlled by the planet, but by the Sovereignty, and now it's future was heavily influenced by her own decisions made here and now. All while the Kessel Cup made its annual run. She kept scanning the crowds, almost curious to see who would approach her first with their offers.

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[member="Tytos Ardik"]
 

Ashaiya Tser

Guest
A
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Despite Racer Y's stream being offline, exponential numbers were starting to flood into the thousands of chat rooms. The tension in the rooms was tangible: was Team Aurebesh going to make an appearance at the Kessel Cup? It was almost perfect, to boot: Aurebesh and asteroid belts had a famous relationship, need not mention the notoriety of the competition in the Kessel Cup.
'how can they not!?!?' argued a fan, before another interjected between messages: 'AUREBESH CUP HYPE!!!!'

Away from the hustle and bustle of the online chats, Ashaiya sat quietly besides her racer. The hangar of the teams space-house-boat was arguably one of the better furnished areas of the larger ship - after all, it was where they maintained their livelihoods. With her blonde hair tied up tightly behind her head, as if in anticipation, the lonely mechanic brushed a spec of dirt off her full-head helmet - her other identity, Racer Y - with her thumb. Quietly, lost in some thought, the woman let out a quiet 'hmph' as she set the helmet aside and swiped up a bottle of water; the water met her lips, coming gently at first, before all of what water remained in the bottle forcefully followed after it. The bottle, now empty, rattled against the floor as the zip of her racing jacket pressed up into the crook of her neck.

Abruptly, the chat rooms exploded: almost each and every one became an incomprehensible, volatile wall of endlessly changing text. To the left, the 'Stream Offline' message vanished, replaced by the square and triangle that suggested the stream was buffering. Then, the symbol gave way, instead revealing something much more iconic: the black and yellow helmet of Racer Y, with the symbol of the Kessel Cup set square in the center.


"You ready, Z?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pzExFrZ9vX4
 
Varik Ice
Equipment: Lightsaber - Armour
Location: Kessel
Objective: 2
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Varik had quite the unamused expression across his face most of the time, and this visit wasn't changing it. There was a certain unnerved feeling that he was getting from the two soldiers who escorted him now, but not the one in front. The one who held his weapon, that walked with a certain gait, a more experienced form than the other two. Yes, he recognized him now. There was just a slight feeling he got, but he knew. He couldn't place the specific agent, but it was one of their own. One of the plants. This may be quicker than he thought.

As they went through the large front gates, Varik glanced around the rather opulent halls. They were too flashy for his taste. Too filled to the brim with decorative pieces, impressive jewelry. Well, what most considered impressive. What was the word he'd heard used to describe it? Gawdy? That was it. It was the feeling he got for most of the abodes that nobles and monarchs had; entirely devoted to their own splendour. It was something he'd tried to distance himself from, to build something for his people, rather than just him. What was the point if they were no part of it?

He was broken out of his thoughts as he saw [member="Alyson Halle"] approach, his brow narrowing as she spoke. It took him a moment to remember, but then he spoke in response with an assumed confidence, as though he'd known what to say all along. "Hello, Empress." There had been a lot of intel to take in, but he'd gotten used to it. He kept pace with Alyson as he entered the throne room, even more opulent than the rooms he'd seen before.

Of course it looked like a peacock.

[member="Tobias Zieba"]
 
The sublight engines on his ship were starting to warm up and Jared grinned. A hand grabbing the controls as the other was tapping on a few different monitors, angling the deflectors and freeing up his engines to respond to the controls. Looking over at his astromech, Jared nodded. “Make sure to respond fast. We’re going to have asteroids coming at us.” This was exciting though, wasn’t it? Yeah.

He knew there were people who were going to be doing their best to ruin the Cup for some, but Jared was here to race, and make sure those people got what was coming to them. Of course, it meant proving that he was the best sublight pilot in the galaxy. The ship’s systems were primed and ready. He was looking over the starmaps again.

Starchaser Enterprises had a long history of exploration charters, but working sublight? That was always up to the pilot. It was like his father said, that you needed to focus, and be aware. Watching your path and trusting your instincts and instruments was the only way to get through a battle, or asteroid field. Falling into the Force was useful, but focusing too much on using it to pilot? And you were losing your skill. He looked up, waiting for the call to line the ships up.
 

Zek Koth

Guest
Z
Kessel was famous for a lot of reasons. The prison, the spice mines, and the Kessel Run. Zek had already decided that after the race, regardless of outcome, he was sneaking into the mines and getting a nice, free supply of spice to take the edge off. It helped him keep from going crazy with all of the missions he'd run over the years for the Republic. If he wanted to maintain his role as top pilot in the Republic he had to be able to relax during downtime. Spice was the only way he could.

But now, the racer in the white vessel, sponsored by the Republic Remnant, was sober. To the public, those waiting to view the race, he was known as Spook. Nobody had seen his face, just the racing helmet with a ghostly skull upon it. He cut almost as sharp a line in his racing gear as his ship did. In Remnant space he was well known for not sticking around after a race. He never did autographs, and was rarely photographed. Posters of the few pictures of him that there were tended to go for thousands of credits. People got rich off of them.

He didn't care.

Racing was a thrill, and even though he didn't really socialize with the other racers he enjoyed the comraderie on the racing circuit. People were fierce competitors, but in this sector of space they at least didn't seem to hate each other when they lost. He couldn't say the same about the pod racing circuits. Those guys were all out to kill each other in some fashion just to make sure that they won the race themselves. Not his cup of tea, simply because he knew if he got into it he'd kill a lot of racers.

Throttling his ship up, he waited for the start, eager to get rocking.

[member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Lynnori Cruz"] [member="Ashaiya Tser"]
 
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so don't let them steal your light.
don't let them break your stride.


"Y, you never even have to ask, darling."

The lightly modulated but still dangerously flirty tone of Z teased her fellow member over their comms, her own stream taking a little loader to load. A small camera within the Sulit's cockpit blinked to life and the bubbly persona of Racer Z was there for the whole holonet to see.

"Where is X, anyway? That old grump. You all know where we are, right?" Her mask produced a playful wink to the raving fans of Aurebesh as Lyn began to guide her fighter towards the cluster of sleek ships, awaiting the call to the starting line, "Can't be a Kessel Cup without us here. Might need some help decorating my new mansion, if anyone's interested." Already close to a million viewers had tuned in, just a fraction of their core viewership. More would join as news spread around the net that Aurebesh was live, as they never announced such things; it was far more exciting to watch everyone lose their minds once they realized what they could now see live.

Grinning wickedly behind that mask, the Sulit was set to drift now, an automated firing of the repulsors at low strength keeping it relatively in the same position so it didn't crash into other racers or, for that matter, the asteroids drifting around the course. During the race they'd be deadly, but for now they were a hazard that could be avoided with programming and sensors. Glancing as a question in chat caught her eye, Z smirked and tilted her head a bit, answering the written offering, "Y'know, I don't think I do know who we're up against. Y, you got any ideas? My bumblebees are abuzz about it..." Puns. It was always puns.





[member="Xerxes"] [member="Ashaiya Tser"] [member="Jared Starchaser"] [member="Zek Koth"]
 
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Racer X - STREAMING NOW.
Active viewers - 30,903,199

Top comments.
Pundii: GAS GAS GAS.
Bronzy: Welcome to X-stream! Keep it civil. Donation information is here .
Hellwolf1616: Koda Fett would WIPE the the track with X. OYA!!!!




As always, X arrived at the line fashionably late. It was intentional, X had built his entire brand around an enigmatic image. It was the aloofness that attracted most of his fans, a mysterious black clad racer that speeds though professional tracks and warzones with equal disregard. The anticipation of his appearance was tearing his stream in half, with anonymous commentators debating back and forth if X was even going to show up. It wouldn't be the first time that he dipped out of an Aurebesh event, only to appear dramatically somewhere down the track. Everyone loves a wildcard and X seemed to be more then happy to play the role.

His active viewers had nearly doubled by the time he made his appearance, his stream suddenly cutting to a live feed from X's helmet. There was no music; no announcer and no fanfare, only the small 'ding' to indicate that a stream is live. X's arrival was equally subdued, silently navigating his vehicle to it's place in the line. While technically a starfighter X's personal racer had more in common with a swoop bike. A five meters long open canopy bike that was built around an oversized ion engine- making it one of the smallest and fastest racers on the line. It purred silently, faint vibrations that traveled up X's legs and washed over his spine.

X barely acknowledged his team, a slight nod to Z and a small shake of the head towards Y. They too were part of the brand, tailored and specifically to attract a particular fanbase. Y was the daredevil, a hotheaded racer that attracted the 'hardcore' swoop scene. While Z was the goof, the social media oddball that pulled in the younger crowds. While each of them has enough subscribers to pull in a sizeable amount of donations, the amount of profit that they accumulate combined is staggering.

It was simple math really.

 
Objective 3
Location: Aboard the RNV Iviin'yc, exiting hyperspace.
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Tucker entered the bridge just in time to see the stars returning to their normal appearance in the main viewscreen. Kessel loomed out in the darkness of space. The Iviin'yc had exited hyperspace.

If someone would have told him when he was younger that he would want to visit Kessel, he would have had them put through a series of psychological evaluations. Now there was nothing he wanted to do more. The Sovereignty was planning a complete overthrow of the regimes running the planet's infamous spice mines, and they had invited the Remnant to assist in the operation. "Comm, patch us through to the Agincourt."

The Agincourt was the 91st Expeditionary Fleet's sole starfighter transport. For this mission, the Billet-class vessel had been entirely stripped of its fighter compliment in exchange for additional squadrons of gunships.

A voice came through the Iviin'yc bridge audio transmitters, "Agincourt actual, standing by."

There could be no time to waste, countless slaves were waiting, "Prepare the gunships for launch."


91st Fleet Detachment:
Command Ship:


Retrofitted CR90: RNV Iviin'yc - Hull: 100% | Shields 100%

Cruiser:

Billet-class Cruiser: RNV Agincourt - Hull: 100% | Shields 100%
 
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Iona hated space. She hated the black void, she hated the metal boxes people 'called' ships that sped through it at breakneck speeds until they were shot and exploded into a bazillion pieces and scattered their cargo, and most importantly people, to be lost to the great black void for all eternity, or, well, until they collided with something and she can only imagine what a conversation starter that was, oh, yes, she hated space with every fabric of her being. It was not the most 'Jedi' stance to take, but as it was a non-sentient entity and she highly doubted she could hurt it's feelings, not for lack of trying mind, she felt this special brand of hatred would be permissible. This hatred, perhaps, would not have been so bad if her body did not launch a revolution against itself every time her feet left the ground. Waves of nausea had plagued her since boarding the Agincourt and while she did not look forward to the missions she was being sent to undertake, she would be happy to have solid ground beneath her feet again, hell, she might even kiss it but experience told her that tended to be an unpleasant experience.While the exit from hyperspace wouldn't be felt by most, Iona sure felt it. The sudden slight decrease in speed, her connection to the force letting her know she had just reentered the real space and, surprise, she had managed to survive another trip and, amazingly, they had not flown into a star! Happy days!
She straightened... and then leaned back against the wall from the sudden wave of nausea that arose from her swift movement, at the sound of her comm, "Jedi Immira, the order has been given to pile into the transports, lets get a move on, you can puke on your own time."
Iona fought down the urge to puke and straightened her back in indgination... even though Sergeant Warren couldn't see her, "Its Em-Mar-Ya, Immarya, blasted buckethead. I know they don't need to teach you grunts anything more then to die plugging the breach with your bodies, but I expect you to know how to read!"
The comm was silent for a moment, a naval officer giving the ranting woman a wide berth as he passed her in the hall, but it crackled to life with the Sergeant's rough laughter, "You're one to talk, Immira, saved you a spot near the window, be sure to bring a bucket, this may get a little bumpy."
Iona stamped her foot and fumed. It wasn't her fault she was born in the slums! So what if she had to sound the words out as she read!? There was no need to constantly remind her of the fact every time, even if she had brought it upon herself. Still, the bucket was a good idea. They were going deep into this place to liberate slaves, from what she was able to gather from the briefing, was possible the transport could come under fire if someone didn't do their job and, well, nothing ruined morale more then a young Jedi repainting all the soldiers around a new shade of putrid green.
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Iona hopped into the large transport and strapped herself into the seat, the armored bulk of private Thwaf to her right, "Glad to see you here, Master Immarya," the young Kubaz, the only member of Warren's squad to call her 'Master' on account of her being Jedi, and if she were being honest, she'd rather be called 'Immira', said. The private's foot was tapping against the metal and she could feel the nervous energy from him and other members of the squad, but of course they were, for a lot of them, this was their first, real, combat mission, it was also hers to, well, first formal combat operation and she was a little more then nervous.
"Alright lads, and ladies," Sergeant Warren said taking the moment to turn his head and to give a mocking bow to Siara, the Twi'lek corporal, and herself, "You know the mission, we are going to go and liberate some slaves and help those Sov FNGs get the job done right so they don't shoot themselves in the foot," his jest was met with a small rumble of laughter from the soldiers. Standard military bravado, the Sov didn't need them at all, they were here purely on a courtesy invintation from the Sovereignty to encourage good relations.... And likely as a means of the Sov to test their dedication to the good will and check out their potential, but Iona was certainly not going to say any of that.
"This is going to be a first drop for a lot of you FNGs," the Sergeant said, and slapped his chest, "But its simple, keep your head down, check your fire and when I say run, you better get those bantha fodder asses moving, do you get me!?"
Which, of course, was met with a resounding, "Sir, yes, Sir!"

The sergeant turned to sit down and stopped before he turned back to them as if he had forgotten something, "Oh, and keep an eye on our little Jedi, you don't want to know how much paperwork it cost."
Iona gave the sergeant a rather large smile, "Of course, gotta file those propely to get your manhood back after hiding behind the little Jedi and her glowstick," she winked at the sergeant, "Don't worry, Sarge. I'll protect you from this big ol' mean slavers."
The sergeant let out a bark of laughter, his voice echoing out from his helmet, "You're all right Jedi," he said voicing the judgement he had been reserving on her since she was assigned to them before he strapped himself into a seat on the other side of the dropship, opposite of Iona and next to the other door.

[member="Joshua Tucker"] [Ready for Deployment!]
 
Objective 3
Location: RNV Agincourt
Kyle slammed a power pack into his M-1016 rifle and slipped his helmet on over his head. The HUD sprang to life with vital information for each of the ten members of Shanty squad, and he tuned into the fireteam bravo's commchannel. Corporal Macintosh's voice greeted him, "Took you long enough, Tethair."


He clambered into the back entrance of an RRATD gunship preparing for take off. The rest of the squad was already there, and there was an unarmored woman sitting in the troop bay, "When you have a squad's worth of ordnance to prep, let me know Mac."

He sat down in the seat next to the fireteam's corporal and lowered his voice, Who's the civ?"

"Look again farmboy. That's no civ."

He felt kind of uncomfortable doing it, but as he strapped himself into the seat he thoroughly looked over the woman under the privacy of his helmet. He still hadn't gotten used to the fact that the helmet could be used to discreetly look where the user wasn't facing, and his head slightly bobbed up and down as he scanned the woman with the mark one eyeball.

"What am I supposed to be looking at, exactly?"

[member="Iona Immarya"]​
 
Objective 3

Location: Aboard the RNV Iviin'yc, holding position alongside the Agincourt.

Tucker sipped on a cup of caf as he studied the port side of the Agincourt. The Agincourt's bridge was still on the other end of their transmission, "Launch the phase one dropships."

For a second, there was only silence on the bridge, "Copy, deploying RRATDs now."

A single gunship entered visual range outside of the Agincourt's main hangar bay. It would be followed by 31 other gunships assigned to phase one of the operation, all carrying Remnant troops to various major spice mines on the surface of Kessel.

[member="Iona Immarya"] | [member="Kyle Tethair"]
 

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