The Abyssal Zone (GA vs. OS: Invasion of Dulvoyinn)

[Sieb Tevv]

​

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Rear Admiral Sieb Tevv stared out the viewport at the blue whorl of hyperspace. They were hot on the heels of the enemy. And this time, this time he had a feeling they would catch them. Had it really been a month? This mad cat and mouse game, chasing each other all the way between Fondor and Khomm. First the prey, now the hunter. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]They were about to enter the Dulvoyinn system. An unremarkable system, with its namesake planet a tactically unimportant world largely overlooked by the rest of the galaxy. But it was here, at Dulvoyinn, that the One Sith fleet would be brought to bay at last and they could finish this wild bantha chase once and for all. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Coming out of hyperspace in four,” the navigation officer initiated the countdown. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]Sieb leaned back into his chair and drew in a breath, mouth open beneath long cheek flaps. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Three, two-” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Sir, we’re picking up a lot of signatures.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“One.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The moment Task Force Moridena emerged from hyperspace the bridge became a buzz of activity.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Multiple contacts-”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“-Holy kriff.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Two squadrons bearing zero, niner-”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“Interdictor locking us in!”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]The Sullustan admiral could only stare out the viewport at a vast array of One Sith ships. Far more ships than they had been pursuing in these last weeks. Not a fleet, but an armada assembled for one single purpose. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]To destroy us.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]A shaky breath left the admiral and his fingers gripped the arms of his chair so hard it hurt. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]“It’s a trap,” he whispered, but nobody was listening.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.666666666666666px]OOC: [/SIZE]
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/87854-invasion-of-dulvoyinn-ga-v-os/

 

[Taeli Raaf]

ANS Fondor's Aegis

A long bloody and frustrating month they had been at this, chasing and skirmishing with Sith forces. The task force was getting antsy; they wanted to put an end to the enemy fleet and Dulvoyinn promised to be just the place to do so. Strategically, it was insignificant if one thought about it, but reports said the OS fleet had traveled there after their last skirmish.

"Hyperspace reversion in four," some navigation officer said. Taeli frowned slightly as she thought about it some more. Dulvoyinn, insignificant unless one considered it was part of the only stable route through One Sith space to their stronghold on Panatha... unless one considered it was the perfect place for...

"Multiple contacts!" a sensor officer shouted as they reverted. The enemy had been waiting for them, and as it was so eloquently stated by the Rear Admiral... it was a trap. Turbolasers flashed, starfighters were beginning to launch, the flickers of lives as they faded away echoed in the Force. No more running... it was time to fight again. Taeli slowed her breathing and began to call the Force to her side, to aid her in the coming fight. She would help defend the command ship, as she fully expected the enemy to be targeting them. The sides were even, the battle would be fierce...

[member="Sieb Tevv"]

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Location: Aboard ANS Belshazzar
Objective: Preparing to launch
Allies: GA/Rogue Squadron [member="Berric Kelso"] [member="Loske Matson"] [member="Choli Vyn"] [member="Encouragement Gets"] [member="Asmus Janes"] [member="Areiana Slayer"] [member="Lucius Varad"]
Enemy: OS
Equipment: T-70 X-wing

How fortuitous the Taanabian had used the fresher when she did because as soon as Alex stepped out of the bathroom stall and washed her hands, the capital ship shuddered under her booted feet indicating the Belshazzar was reverting to real space. The Belsar-class Command Carrier's klaxons blared loudly immediately following coming out of hyperspace with a thrum that gave one an instant headache. This never was a good sign of things to come. One could gather any hope of having clear skies was totally out of the question in starting this sortie.

The brandy-eyed brunette quickly finished zipping up her rebel orange flight suit, then pulled on her black gauntlet gloves as she made for the ready room hatch along with the other pilots standing by. Russo sprinted across the hangar bay to her awaiting snubfighter and climbed up the T-70 X-wing's ladder with well practiced ease, then grabbed her helmet off the pilot couch where it was resting and eased down into the seat while donning it. Next she secured the crash webbing about her shapely form as the ladder was removed by a Twi'lek hangar tech; giving the orange-hued alien a thumbs up afterwards as he stood off to the side clear of her ship.

Alleycat's loyal and trusted astromech droid had been loaded into it's socket behind her on the X-wing's fuselage and was already getting the preflight taken care of as she closed the transparisteel canopy and brought the flight console and engines to life.

"Everything good to go, Rusty?"

[As always,your worshipfulness. I am your most humble servant. Now let's kick some Sith bootay.] the copper red R2 unit retorted snarky as ever in a message that scrolled across the pilot's data screen in the cockpit.

"Remind me to get you that swipe when we get back… You're ego is getting way too big for your dome, though I do like your sentiment," Alex bantered back with a soft chuckle, then she got real serious and toggled the comm unit over to the flight frequency and keyed it.

"Flight Control. This is Rogue Eleven. Four lit and green to go."

Now to wait to get clearance to launch. This was the hardest part of being a starfighter pilot when one was raring to go. Well maybe not… having to pee mid-furball was definitely worse. Again, thank the Force that was already taken care of. Double One was good at strategically planning in more ways than one.

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Mess Decks
Immortal Titan

The sound of klaxons blaring were was a wonderfully irritating accompaniment to the controlled chaos it forced the crew of the Titan into. Rolling his eyes, the Sith Lord placed the juicy nerfburger that he was about to inhale on the plate in front of him. For a few brief moments, silver-green eyes swept the scene, watching the dutiful men and women of the One Sith leap into action.

The Sith Lord had only just arrived to the fleet a short eighteen hours earlier for...diplomatic purposes. Really, Cameron wasn't sure why anyone deemed him fit for diplomatic outreach. The Sith Lord wasn't the most talkative of individuals, and he was quick to judge. In fact, the vast majority of his social interactions consisted of ominous glares and perfectly-timed rolling of the eyes. Yes. Perfectly-timed. If he really liked someone, he just might throw in a thin, completely condescending smile.

There was hardly a reason for Cameron to reach out with his senses to determine the quality of the new arrivals. The pungent nature of those that clung devoutly to the teachings of the Jedi Order was an almost overbearing sensation. That was not an opinion he had of all...light side inclined force users. In the end of the day, how one chose to influence the Force was just that...a personal choice. Besides, it wasn't really like a putrid kind of pungent. More like when someone wore way too much cologne or perfume. It just made you look at them like they were moronic and go, 'Oh word?' ([member="Sarge Potteiger"]).

With a shrug of his large shoulders, Cameron seized the delicious burger once more. Just as he took a bite, a very distinct presence from his past drifted through his senses. However, there would be no further getting between Cameron Centurion and his meal this day.

 

[Crystal]

[member="Cameron Centurion"]

Distinct he says. Rightfully so. Crystal certainly was unforgettable.

A smirk curled up her lip. He knew that she was there.

The smell of his nerfburger wafted to her nose as she appeared directly behind him. She slipped her hands onto his shoulders and peeked at the source of the scent. "Mmm. That looks good. Is it good?"

Her hands slid off his shoulders and she slid into a chair that partially faced him. Her fingers laced together, and she crossed her right leg over her left. Crystal was a patient woman. And, she didn't want to lose an arm by getting in the way of food. The two of them had a way of running into each other in the oddest places in the galaxy. It had been less than a decade, which was much shorter than some of the other gaps in communications. It always pleased her to see him. He always had something new and interesting for her to do if she was bored.

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Mess Decks, Titan


If Cameron was bothered by or otherwise even registered the physical contact by [member="Crystal"], he didn't show it in the slightest. In fact, the only recognition that Crystal was afforded consisted of a brief sideways glance. For the next five or so minutes, Cameron focused on finishing the entirety of his meal and associated beverage of choice. When he was done, the Sith Lord slid the tray of food away from him as he leaned back in the decidedly uncomfortable seat. Then again, it like so many other things onboard the Titan were designed and placed for function not comfort.

Absentmindedly, Cameron rested his left hand on the leather-bound hilt of his Sith Sword as his gazed turned to fully regard his ex-wife. The Sith Lord afforded the blonde woman a thin smile. The words he spoke betrayed the actual nature of the underlying emotion in his expression. "What are you doing here?" In just that moment, the sound of klaxons began to subside as the announcements sending the crew to General Quarters were completed.

 

[Aela Talith]

Boarding Shuttle

She didn't like space ships.

They were small, cramped, and clunky. More than once Aela had been in a shuttle, or even a capital ship when it had crashed. The Experiences had not been pleasant, and although they had never been her fault, she still felt somewhat responsible for it every time that it happened. That was silly of course, the odd curse that followed the Talith Family around only really applied when she was piloting the vessel, but whenever she crashed it still felt like at least part of the blame was on her.

So what was the problem now?

Well, she was on a boarding shuttle, in a tiny cramped compartment packed with a dozen other people.

In theory, crashing was all part of the plan, but that plan didn't really tell where exactly she would be going, or rather, where she would be crashing. In theory their target was one of the two major ships within the One Sith fleet, but within the chaos of space combat she wasn't really all that sure that they would make it. The pit in her stomach had formed hours ago, the moment that the other Marshalls had voted on conducting these space born raids.

She had known instantly that she would be among the first, had known instantly that she would once again be in the Vanguard, but that hadn't meant she would like it.

Her eyes folded closed and she tried to concentrate, using the force to calm herself. That sense quickly extended to the others around her, a mild form of Battle Meditation that she had learn from the Twin's Holocron. The soothing calm would fall over those within the boarding shuttle, a small portion of peace in an otherwise chaotic galaxy.

 

[LT-137]

Location: Flight Deck of the ANS Belshazzar.
Objective: Pre-Flight Preparations.
Allies: Galactic Alliance, Rogue Squadron. [ [member="Berric Kelso"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Choli Vyn"] | [member="Encouragement Gets"] | [member="Asmus Janes"] | [member="Areiana Slayer"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"] ]
Enemy: The One Sith.
Equipment: T-70 X-wing Starfighter, MF-9 Scattergun, DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol.


Jumping awake to the cloying sound of combat klaxons, I found myself enshrouded within the cockpit of my starfighter, still clad in the livery of my last flight. It smelled slightly of sweat and something else that was far too disgusting to discern, making me cough slightly at the sudden revelation of my stench. There was a moment where I cast my gaze towards the distant ready room and thinking of how fast my boots would carry me there and back before the squadron launched. Heaving out a lengthy sigh, I trembled beneath my ochre flight suit as my body fought against me in the hopes of laying still for just a moment longer. The smell, I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to move. Forcibly commanding my fabric clad flesh to rise from its iron throne, I began my journey towards the distant chamber, dashing by pilots doing the exact opposite of me. They were at least able to make it to their bunks and sleep soundly, but for me? Such a quest would be in vain. Without the noise of the Hangar Deck to drown out the whispering voices, I'd be doing nothing more than staring at the enameled ceiling of my quarters - hoping to reclaim the sanctity of mind.

Slapping the shoulder of one of my fellow pilot's and wishing him a bountiful hunt in the hours ahead; my feet had finally carried me into the locker room. Within that steel skinned assembly hall, I came across several others still readying themselves for the engagement to come. Some prayed to whatever gods they held true, whilst others embraced one another in the off-chance that their lover might not return. It was beautiful to see them caress one another with affection, and secretly - within my heart of hearts, I felt the sliver of envy take hold. Shaking my head and completing my quest, I opened the standing trunk before me and emptied it of its contents. Tearing off the soiled suit and adorning myself in the freshly pressed fabric of my second uniform. There was a murmur of revulsion that spread throughout the lined rows of metallic cabinets as I pulled my spoiled shirt from my pallid flesh. They must've seen my scars. Before I had become the man I was today, such maddening whispers would've driven me to debase myself in shame. Now, instead, they privately fuel my drive to become more than the myriad of stories that marr my sunless hide. Stifling the smile, that threatened to steal my expressionless visage, I finished decorating my physique with my Pilot's panoply of war.

Clad in the radiant orange flight suit of the Alliance, and festooned with the sigils of my illustrious squadron, I slammed the locker shut and moved towards the armory. Thumbing in my command authorization codes, the iron doors before me parted to reveal two weapons of note. Holstering the presented DL-44, an ancient and thankfully refurbished design that had been my trusty sidearm since the Squadron's first mission at Lothal, my glittering gaze was drawn towards the newest addition to my arsenal. To be honest, I was surprised something like this had even made its way into my barren boudoir of weapons, but I was far from annoyed. A maser scattergun. That was going to be handy should my fighter ever make it to the enemy vessel. There would be time later to appreciate this new acquisition, but until then - there was a battle that needed to be fought, and the Gods be damned if I was late, again. Slinging the shotgun over my shoulders and grabbing my helmet, I surged back out onto the flight deck and returned to my fighter - seemingly just in time as the first vessels began to lift off the deck. The translation was made, and the enemy was on all sides. They were the Vanguard of the Alliance, and Rogue Squadron would be it's Sword.

Crowning myself with the pilot's helm, and pulling down the blast shield, I ascended the steps of the starfighter and settled down within the cockpit's heart. Initiating the pre-flight checks and igniting the fires within my T-70, I began going through the ingrained motions of calm, before being overtaken by the storm upon the horizon. When the canopy slowly descended to seal me within the vessel, I activated my helmet's microbead and contacted the hangar's flight control.

:: Haytch-Tee-See, this is Rogue Twelve, ready for launch, requesting clearance to commence. ::

Fanning my fingers across the textured length of my control yoke, I waited until those magic words were spoken - and when they were, I left the carrier behind and plunged deep into the heart of what others would gleefully consider being a target-rich environment.

 

[Crystal]

[member="Cameron Centurion"]

Crystal grinned. "I came to watch you eat, of course."

She realized then how much she'd missed him in the last seven years or so. They hadn't been a couple in a very very long time, But, (But Crystal's writer is foggy on the details. >_>) she wasn't really aware of time when they weren't working together. Still a scholar at heart, Crystal often retreated to her studies of the lesser known skills and spells. However, she was not one to leave a job unfinished. Their last crusade had eventually ended and faded. Shortly thereafter, Crystal began her journey. Now, premonitions were never really frequent for Crystal, but she'd had one. It was instinctual for her to seek him out, but the vision had made impossible not to. It was too brief for her to make sense of. The Sorceress knew better than to ignore visions that she got so infrequently. They would only become more frequent, and eventually disruptive and explosive.

So there she sat.

Her expression returned to a neutral one, and she spoke again. "In all seriousness, I'm not entirely sure yet." Now that she sat in front of him, she considered another possibility. Had he planted the vision in her mind? It was unlikely, but certainly not impossible. "I had a vision," Crystal paused just briefly. "Of you."

 

[Cameron Centurion]

Mess Decks, Titan

Cameron's expression gradually turned completely impassive as [member="Crystal"] got around to explaining why she was actually there. Visions...were definitely not something he tended to venture into these days. The Sith Lord did not believe in destiny, and he knew all too well that every time he attempted to peer into the Force to gain a glimpse or image of what was to come...things changed completely. Besides, life was far more interesting when you were forced to adapt to ever-evolving situations. Improvisation. That was what Cameron had trained tirelessly to perfect over countless decades.

"A vision of me. Well that's a romantic notion." Not really. "Care to elaborate...you know...seeing as how the middle of a battle is the perfect time for a heart-to-heart." The Sith Lord motioned lazily with his arms to indicate the general level of controlled chaos quickly erupting around the entirety of the vessel, the task force.

At that thought, another exceedingly familiar presence touched Cameron's mind. More family. He loved their little battlefield reunions.

 

[Crystal]

[member="Cameron Centurion"]

Crystal shrugged. "I can't elaborate. I saw you, for about three seconds. Nothing else."

She didn't care about the battle going on around them. It wasn't her concern. Crystal supposed that he must have some interest in the battle, or he wouldn't be there. "So what's the battle about? Anything fun?" Crystal tilted her head all too familiarly. "Perhaps the vision was more of a suggestion."

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Enroute to the Immortal
Ally: [member="Glavo Pahro"]

Fighters and shuttles swarmed from the hangar of the ANS Belshazzar. A number of flat bottomed, oval ships with stubby fins broke off from the main body, heading straight for the massive enemy flagship. Orbalisk-class boarding shuttles, a new design. Fast, well-shielded, but a Jawa scrap metal enthusiast could boast more weaponry than this shuttle.

Sal Katarn sat inside an Orbalisk, along with a number of other soldiers, most garbed in black. Those without helmets mirrored his grim, taciturn expression. Alliance Special Forces, if they could really be called such. The truth? The Alliance found the best killers they could get their hands on, incentivize them with creds, put ‘em in black and called them SpecForce Marines. They all had different stories, but they all ended the same way: violence.

The shuttle shook as if from turbulence. Flak. Hm.

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “Thirty seconds.”

Thirty seconds until their Peregrine disruptor let them bypass the Immortal’s shields. Thirty seconds until they latched onto the flagships hull with a magnetic grip, tight and as irremovable as their namesake. Thirty seconds until the nightmare outside became a reality.

Why am I here? Sal scratched at the stubble on his jaw, stomach full of butterflies. Just like the first time. Just like every time. Because I’m no good at anything else.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

His face was impassive behind the sleek helmet. Some may or may not remember him. Some in particular may not like his being in Galactic Alliance space. Likely, he was the only Force User in this utterly insane group of murderers and thieves, some of the likely slavers and rapists possibly. The thought of his 'brothers in arms' right now made his blood boil, but outwardly and in the Force, nothing really took him by surprise much. Ever present, his MP1 was strapped in a low thigh holster, a Fett Kal trench knife from [member="Vilaz Munin"] in an underhanded holster on his pauldron. A bloodstripe cannon shotgun, 8 gauges of fury in each barrel. It looked mean.

But secreted inside something looking like a cutting torch, hid amongst the detcord and therma-paste and other Spec-Ops gear, was a tube for a plas-torch that hide the luminesence of his silver saber. As the thirty second warning flashed, Glavo nodded impassively. Nerves rattled him on almost any boarding action, and he sought the center of his being as he was taught so long ago on Coruscant. It came easier than it had before, and with a frightening sound the bloodstripe cannon was racked, primed and ready, as he took breach position with the absolutely brutal shotgun. First in, and hopefully not first out. But under his SpecOps armor was his G.E.A.R. load out, enough to keep him more than alive and agile if the lightsaber became needed. HUD flashed a chronometer contact to contact and impact, and his fingers drubbed on the barrel of the gun, adrenaline speeding his nerves rather than the Force this time. They couldn't know, not yet.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he was doing alongside the Alliance again. Then he remembered... A weapon was only as worthy as the man who wielded it. Despite differences, these weren't bad people to die beside at all.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uIPS4LyveJs

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Nia Siroc]

[member="Elaine Thul"]

On another boarding shuttle, headed towards the OS Carrier whose name I do not yet know

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r6WP2-g5yvo

This would mark Nia Siroc's first serious battle. Everything else up to this point would be considered a practice run, a skirmish. Yet two years into her training and several events and skirmishes had changed her. She's seen death, tasted her own blood, driven her blade into the guts of her enemy.

She was afraid, oh yes, but it didn't consume her or control her as it had in the beginning. Nia controlled the fear and set it aside, breathing steady and deep. Emotion, yet Peace was what she recited in her mind. The apprentice meditated on the juxtaposition of the opposites. The juxtaposition of what it meant to be a Jedi.

It gave her a sense of focus and a feeling of purpose. Nia could feel fear but her purpose would drive her to do what she had to do today. The jostling of the smaller craft hardly even registered any more than the sounds, sights and smells. They were there and yet they weren't in her trance; a riddle, just like her life had become.

 

[Bryce Bantam]

Location: Aboard ANS Belshazzar
Objective: Repair the Starr / help GA
Allies: GA
Enemy: OS

BB was in one of the ships many hangers when it came out of hyperspace. Never intending to get into a fight BB had needed to land the Starr aboard the Belshazzar due to engine trouble. One of his many additional customizations had malfunctioned and the good people of the Galactic Alliance had been kind enough to take him in so he could make repairs.

Now that bit of good luck had seemed to turn as the bay was filled with pilots and crews running to get everything and anything that flew loaded up and out the bay doors. Warning sirens sounded and orders were being shouted to the crews to make every ship ready for combat. If the Starr was in any condition to fly BB would have wanted to launch with them but as it was there was way too much work left to do to the power system to even think of such and act. Instead, he moved to access panel three, opened it and began to look for the next point of failure in the line. Unaware of how serious things were about to become.

"Looks like we are gonna miss all the fun," BB said to a nearby Dedicated Repair Droid watching the first wave of fighters launch into combat.

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: The Immortal, exterior hull
Ally: [member="Glavo Pahro"]
Enemies: [member="Cameron Centurion"] | [member="Crystal"]

The entire shuttle rocked violently, throwing Sal forward against the crash webbing restraints. A squad of greenhorns might've screamed n' pissed themselves, but amid the troop bay came only a few muttered curses. He grunted as the ship lurched one way, then the other. No surer sign of evasive maneuvers than intense nausea. He grimaced, swallowing the bile at the back of his throat.

"Zambrano motherkriffers."

"You'd know, Higgins." Captain Qassi's voice through the helmet. Muffled.

Dour chuckles. Sal snorted.

Another series of savage rocking, then a loud thunk.

"Mag clamps engaged," said the co-pilot's disembodied voice. "Activating cryo."

Sal and the rest started unbuckling themselves from the restraints. He picked up his helmet and slid it snugly over his head. Underneath the ship came a long hissing, a serpent's warning.

Qassi stood, rolled her shoulders back and moved to the middle of the troop bay. "Alright boys and girls, you know the drill. Weapons free. Get in, blow the objective, get out."

Nobody asked about the ROE. The briefing had been clear. If it moves, you shoot it.

"Plasma torches engaged... alright, we're through. Extending airlock. On my mark, three, two, one. Go!"

The circular door in the floor of troop bay slid open and forty-nine well-armed marines and one Kathol 'observer' piled through, two by two.

Sal's feet hit the floor and he went to a knee, czerka 840 at the low-ready. He frowned at what he saw. The shuttle had landed them inside the mess hall, since it was the compartment closest to their objective. Bodies lay scattered against one wall, broken and crumpled like paper. He rose and moved to examine one. A Quarren, eyeballs burst, blood leaking from its mouth.

"Hm," he grunted. Rapid depressurization did nasty things to a body. When the Orbalisk'd cut through the hull it hadn't sealed up the opening right away. It let the vacuum of space do its job before extending the airlock and sealing the hole again. Not a good way to go, but dead was dead.

Spoiler

Forgot my obligatory invasion theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_o-iLl96AwI

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As the hole blew, Glavo was first in, sweeping back and forth with the shotgun, scanning readily. Observer/mutual aid soldier or not, he fairly twitched with suppressed energy and excitement. Slowly the scanning stopped as a couple of knifing hand signals rolled out. Whether or not any were former operatives for the Republic hadn't entered into his head, but the signals were mostly universal ones. No active enemy, fan out, check bodies for fake stiffs and harvest anything useful. If he were over-stepping his bounds, the gruff Qassi would put him in his place quickly he estimated. But the resume he had cooked up was quite effective. His little brothers CorSec records were easy to document. As was the subsequent terror/resistance fighter bit on Corellia.

On paper, at least, Glavo was an elite Corellian operative who wound up in the the Kathol Outback as Corellia shattered, and was looking to bloody those he laid blame to the destruction of his home. In his heart and in reality, the truth and his cover story were unerringly similar, with a few truly minor deviancies. The bloodstripe was still at high ready as he rifled the fallen man in front of him, rolling grenades and ammo into a pile next to him. Improvised explosives were a nasty trick he had learned from slavers while with the monks.... Take a handful or so of thermal detonators, wind det-cord through them, thermal paste without the liquid accelerant mixed in. You lit the cord and threw them like a bolo....

Quick as a flash he had made a few up and taken two to wrap though his belt. Stealth wasn't needed, so he let them clack a bit. A pile of three or so others lay where he was, as he pocketed the 1st Sergeants ID. Finally, against his better judgement, his voice rang out as he moved to do the same to the others, squad mates with what passed for heavy weaponry guarding the only door in and out of the mess hall. No one in here should recognize his voice, distinct as it was. His face was the true dead give away, and he just couldn't help that. So he spoke, and thank the Nine Hells, the amp in his helmet also distorted and modulated his voice to a tinny echo of itself. Some humor and rivalry was needed to keep up his background.

"Det-bolos out. 1st Sgt access card. Mostly useless standard issue gear. We'll be clear in thirty...Force, their chow looks horrendous...Higgins, you hungry?"

[member="Sal Katarn"]

 

[Darth Centax]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rGAGelui1Y​

Location: The Hungering Mynock Docking Bay.
Heading to: The Alliance Carrier - ANS Belshazzar
Enemies: To come!
Allies: OS headed for the carrier.

Fresh from recent wargames on Dulvoyinn, Byss and Coruscant, several thousand of the 769th Coruscants Own and 770th Loyal Sons stormtrooper corps were aboard the two vessels. With many different ships moving the large body of men to their next assignments, these were two of them.

769th Coruscants Own, 769-BR Breaching Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Ktaran Asp CO.
Corusant born, Ktaran was a stern faced Myke near human, his strong green gaze facing down two thousand white armored stormtroopers, and the many small boarding craft behind them.

“Listen well. You’ve wanted payback for shutta that destroyed our home and families, well this is it. The same scum that took their lives from you, these are they, come before you. Get in those shuttles, and do what you’re made to do.”

The sound of two thousand of the 769th's own, breaching regiment feet stamping down in unison, facing captain Amadis and the other officers was stronger than usual. These men were fired up to be avenging their Central Centax families. Kylath pulled his sith officer helmet tight about himself, his gear already double checked, he was more than ready for this.

Payback time.

Boarding their Spiral Class Assault Shuttles, and engaging their stealth suite. The tiny cramped 6 man ships were all but invisible, ecm and jamming suites on. While overt fighters and larger shuttles most likely moved out of both ships hanger zones, more openly to join the main battle above, [member="Cyrus Tregessar"] The 2,000 men aboard the cramped, invisible spiral assault ships, steadily filtered out of the engagement zone below them. Headed along a much lower vector, the craft spread out so not to present a clustered approach of even masked signatures.

“Use the direction of the sun to offer cover for any mild energy fluctuations.” Kylath suggested, and command agreed, putting themselves in the vague direction of Dulvoyinn’s star to further mask approach from the already well kitted out, 6 man 1 droid tiny stealth ships. Sure was cramped in here, but they got the job done. While on board the larger main command ships, key areas of each were reinforced with defending stormtroopers preparing for the assault.

Personal Gear:
X1 Officer Armor | MRS-1 Modular Assault Rifle Sized in hands | 4x Mixed Grenades | Lightsaber on hip | Personal Ray Shield | Crushgaunts on Hands | Jack Knife Pistol on hip

Related NPC Forces: (Not the total crew or defending compliment)
769th Coruscant Own Regulars: 2,000 Boarding Regiment, Launching
769th Coruscant Own Regulars: 4,000 Aboard the Hungry Mynock Defending @Anyone to use
770th Loyal Sons Regulars, 2nd Division. 8,000 aboard the Immortal Flagship Defending @Anyone to Use

Actions:
769th Boarding Regiment, launching silently and stealthed, moving steadily out of the engagement zone, while other ships more openly engage above. ECM, cloak and jamming systems on. Defensive stormtroopers moving to key areas of both Sith ships.

 

[Jack Mirrikh]

Story Partner: [member="Nia Siroc"]
Location: Titan
Passing by: [member="Crystal"] | [member="Cameron Centurion"]

There were two young men, both decked out in space suits, rushing down the hallway of the Titan. Transport was up in five, with or without them, and they had NO intention of missing it. Nearby in real space, but a bit disconnected from the current stage of battle, was an OS advanced comm station. With it, they could call for reinforcements and employ the advanced cyber warfare suite that was installed therein. The problem was that they were completely unresponsive; "dead in the water". No responses to communiques and readings suggested that an accident caused a cascade failure and lead to multiple hull breaches.

They and the transport of men were being dispatched to investigate, take back and defend the objective from any and all opposition. The sound of their boots clanking down the hallway were audible as they passed the mess hall. Jack wished he could have stopped for a nice bite. His eating schedule was a bit crazy, so he had only had a snack about an hour and a half ago. Four minutes and 31 seconds later, Jack and his new friend were on the lifting transport. They tried to calm their breathing before they would be forced to switch to their oxygen tank.

 

[Elaine Thul]

Objective: The Hungering Mynock
Allies: [member="Nia Siroc"]
Enemies: not sure yet, though I bet that they are not sith.
Equipment: Dueling Armour, Pink Lightsaber
Forces: Housecarls 70 Thul Reapers 20 Plasma Casters 10 Disc Cannons
4x Pioneers as well as 15 Thul Infantry Companies

Elaine did not like being on boarding shuttle, though she was with most her housecarls. She was listening to the comms channel as it went off, things where going a little awkward out there. Some sort of space battle had ensued, to what she could gather from comms traffic. She head upto command area of shuttle, and looked what was going on. A Sith fleet had been engaged, by The Galactic Alliance, and by sounds of things the alliance where not ready for it. She looked over the map of battle, and realised her forces where sitting duck out there. She looked on the star map, to see what her forces could do. She realised the Sith Carrier was nearby, and forces could try and board it and take it. Though to do so she need fighter cover, or all her men would die in these little ships.

This is Elaine Thul to all Galactic Alliance fighters, please cover my ships in boarding the sith carrier. After the her message her ships, began an intercept course to get ready to board the enemy ships. She was more than little nervous, then she saw other other boarding shuttle heading her way. She smiled and thought to herself, Well either death or glory I suppose.


Then behind her a Housecarl commander, began trying pull any intel he had on the ship they where going for. He was after anything from intel files, he was coming up empty. As soon as we are aboard that ship, we need to pull up a map on the ship. He told other members of the housecarls, and then said to them all Remember your training, remember you have some hardest armour in the galaxy, also some heaviest firepower out there. Do you duty and we will get through this.

Then long waited started as ships moved toward there target...........