Mission [Tarkin Initiative] Staging Ground

[DT-1111]

WATCH ME BLEED
STAGING GROUND​

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LOCATION: HELSKA IV | EN ROUTE TO IMPERIAL REDOUBT GLACIER
TAGS: Althea Varrick | Adrienne Halver Fel | Ysanne Hojkstra | Marion Edrane Fel​

It’s one thing to hear stories, yet another to live the horror those stories retell. Two of the Death Mask teams entered the facility in tactical stacks, subdividing into 4 teams of 6 and spreading out to extract as many as they could. The upper levels of the facility were abuzz with frantic measures to set up defensive barricades by the stormtrooper garrison, yet the fear in the air was palpable. Many heard the final moments of their dying comrades over the comm channels, and the sound of inhuman wails could be heard deeper in the facility.

Acklay was at the head of his stack, descending an access stair to the lower level. His team burst through the door, moving to tactical positions on one side while the team behind him moved down the opposite end of the corridor. The sight they all saw was harrowing, even for them. The organic body-horror of the Vong warriors was both repulsive, and yet elegantly brutal in its own way. Fire teams of storm troopers frantically engaged a swarm of drones, their fire finding purchase, only for a larger, heavily armored warrior to charge forth and disembowel the first trooper he charged. The chitinous blade cleaved through the duraplast armor as if it didn’t exist at all, causing the armored trooper to fall to his knees as blood welled up between his lips under his helmet.

The other trooper turned to run, but was quickly impaled by a slimy javelin of sorts, made from bone. The Vong warrior let out a sadistic laugh, muttering in some alien language; but was quickly set upon by a fresh volley of fire.
Acklay and his troopers unleashed with their particle rifles, the yellow blaster bolts firing in accurate bursts. The first few bolts went wide, but quickly started flying true. The warrior began charging, even as the first bolts that found purchase ripped through his shoulder ‘plating’. The third and fourth shots impacted center mass, causing the Vong to stutter slightly. It wasn’t until the fifth and sixth shots impacted center mass at the same general location that its natural armor ruptured, and it gave out a guttural yell as it fell backward to the deck.

Acklay’s team pushed forward, with the Commander pumping another burst point-blank in the warrior’s head before the Death Mask team moved on like a silent shadow. It was then that a garbled transmission came through:

<Dr. Varrick reporting, static...subterranean alien structure, suspect Vong static. ...presence of Vong overmind creature static Ready static team for biocontainment.">

<“Aurek-actual to all other team leads, status report.”>

<“Cherek-actual copy; strike team on the far side of the base, upper level near east stairwell extracting surviving medical teams. Minimal contact with the enemy.”>

<“Dorn-actual copy; hard contact with enemy in east stairwell by lower level.”> The sounds of battle and shrieking bled over the comm frequency, strain obvious in the otherwise calm voice of Dorn-actual.

Besh had just proceeded the opposite direction of Acklay, but they reported nonetheless. <“Besh-actual copy, have encountered drones claiming corpses and bringing them down to the lower levels - steady contact with enemy. No survivors found yet.”>

Acklay acknowledged the reports, then led his men onward - to a turbolift atrium with flickering lights, and the sound of further commotion. As he drew closer, he could hear a trembling voice growing louder. “P-please... w-why are you... why are you doing this?” An older female scientist was on her knees, her hands clasped in supplication before a rather large, armored Vong who had just turned to face her after yanking an axe from the corpse of a fallen Imperial. The Vong Warrior chuckled, as if relishing in the fear radiating off of the woman.

But whatever was about to happen, was no longer about to happen.

“GET DOWN!” Acklay shouted as his squad loosed fire at the standing combatant. Instead, the woman froze, which gave the Vong enough time to grab her and position her in front of him as a literal human shield. It took little time for the particle rounds to decimate her, yet her body served its purpose as a shield long enough for the Vong to charge the Death Trooper squad. Normally, the Death Mask’s fire would overwhelm the warrior’s defenses quick enough, yet smaller Vong warriors charged from their flank, forcing 2 troopers to redirect their fire. The warrior attempted to decapitate Acklay, yet he narrowly ducked forward. As he turned about to assault the Warrior’s flank, the Vong kicked out - throwing Acklay through the air only to crash against the closed turbolift door. Several point-blank shots found purchase against the warrior, but not before he impaled one of the team members with a viscous looking blade in his off hand. The drones were soon dealt with, leaving the 4 remaining Death Mask to focus on the lone warrior who held their comrade in a death grip.

Yet, the mortally wounded trooper did something the stormtroopers had as of yet been unable to do. He punched the Vong in the face, and pulled the blade deeper into his gut wound. The Vong Elite began chuckling amidst bloody discharge from its ravaged face, yet as its maw opened, the trooper pulled an orb from his belt, hit the primer, and stuffed it in between the warrior’s teeth.

The explosion was gruesome. Vong tissue scattered around, plastering against the durasteel wall paneling, and throwing the rest of the unit off its feet. Acklay was the first to rise, and he made his way to his fallen teammate. His black armor was scored, and his head was contorted at an unnatural angle. He was dead, and he died the death of any true Imperial. But it was in the stillness that followed, that Acklay heard something from behind the turbolift doors; some scratching noise, as if something was within the shaft. He motioned his squad, with two taking a rear-guard position as the other two joined him in aiming at the door.

He flicked through the vision modes of his visor to peer through the metallic door. He thought he detected heat signatures, but it was faint. “Halt! Who is in the lift shaft?” Worst case, they were Vong - which would cause the team to open fire. But if they were survivors, Acklay was willing to take the chance of revealing himself to make this damned incursion worth it.

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[Marion Edrane Fel]

STAGING GROUND

The technician raced ahead, motivated more by the fear of being eaten by the Yuuzhan Vong than by the orders barked by the scary older women. Marion was much the same, following the technician with surprising speed. Luckily for her, her glitteryll supply had dwindled during this boondoggle -- a brief trip with her grandmother had turned into a multi-week journey with no opportunity for resupply -- and Marion had been forced to ration it, such that by now she was going through withdrawal, not high.

She felt like death warmed over, but at least her mind was sharp. Perfectly able to incorporate the horrors she had witnessed, and perfectly capable of racing up a ladder.

The technician came to a ledge where the ladder ended and looked for a control panel, hands shaking, scraping along the metal. Marion heard a voice on the other side -- or thought she did -- and leaned into the panel, pressing her ear there. "There's someone out there," she told the technician, who didn't seem to take it on board. Marion raised her voice and called out: "Don't shoot! I'm here with Adrienne Fel and Ysanne Hojkstra. We're trying to find the controls."

Marion groped along the wall on the opposite side of the door from the technician until finally she found what felt like a crank lever at the base of the door to one side. A manual release, maybe. "Stand back," she shouted, hoping whoever was on the other side of the door could hear her. She gave the crank a pull, and it didn't budge. She tried the other way, and with a little elbow grease, the crank began to turn slowly, and a moment later, light flooded into the shaft from a crank at the base of the access panel.

"There are Yuuzhan Vong in the base," Marion gasped into the gap as she continued to turn the crank. "They're coming up behind us -- please." Marion grunted with exertion and barked "Help me!" at the technician -- sounding remarkably like Adrienne in that instant. With two sets of arms, they moved the crank faster, so that by the time Ysanne came into the light, the panel was half a meter open, exposing the shins of the deathtroopers on the other side.

TAGS: Ysanne Hojkstra | DT-1111 | Adrienne Halver Fel​

[/CENTER]

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[Kadann]

TITLE

"Maybe today is a good day to die then," Kadann grunted, setting his stance.

The cavern was a jagged maw of ice and shadow, but it was the silence in the Force that truly chilled Kadann. As the Yuuzhan Vong warrior lunged, Kadann reached out with his mind to crush the life from the beast, only to find a terrifying, hollow void where a presence should have been.

It was like reaching for a hand in the dark and finding only cold, empty space. The warrior was a nightmare of scarred flesh and living, chitinous armour.

Kadann barely brought his lightsaber up in time to catch the first blow, the impact vibrating through his stiff joints. The next strike and the staff became a writhing Serpent, curving around his lightsaber to snap at his face.

He gave ground grudgingly, his blue eyes narrowed as he sought the shatterpoints in the creature's organic plating. Every time he tried to predict the next strike, his foresight stuttered: the Vong was a blind spot in the galaxy's design.

The amphistaff struck again, wrapping its tail around his blade to yank it aside, and a sudden, sharp pain flared in Kadann's side as a hidden blade found a gap in his tunics. He grunted, his Firrerreo blood beginning its slow, laboured attempt to seal the wound, but he had no time for recovery.

He threw a wave of raw telekinetic energy not at the warrior, but at the ice beneath them, seeking to use the environment where his direct mental assaults had failed.

Kadann changed tactics with the wily desperation of a man who refused to be a relic. As the beast leapt for the kill, Kadann didn't retreat. He stepped into the guard, pressing his palm against a hairline fracture in the warrior's vonduun crab armour.

He struck that single point with his palm with all his strength. It was like a hammer that shattered some of the living shell inward.

The creature coughed a spray of dark, alien ichor, its eyes widening in its final moments as Kadann ignited his blade directly through the breach. The warrior slumped into the snow, leaving Kadann to lean heavily against the ice and wait for the slow, agonising process of his own body's repair to begin.

"Still not dead," he muttered to himself.