The Brass Hunt

[Butch Mahan]

OOC: Please post your interest in joining the thread here before posting in this thread.

A secret High Moff council had taken place over an unnamed planet in an unmarked system. It was a small council, only two of the High Moffs had attended. It was not kept a secret from Grand Moff [member="Tanomas Graf"], but it had taken measures to be avoided by the public. It had been a strategy meeting, one of little importance, and with some minor disagreements, both sides had come out with the same resources and connections as they had before, leaving the meeting as a useless occasion. However this would not be the case for some. As @Butch Mahan and [member="Max Fel"] took their places for the corvette's exit from the system, there was a malfunction.

At first it seemed to be a small computing error in the hyperdrive, delaying the exit from the system. But then several systems began to go down, losing power. As the ship's crew scurried about, trying to fix the failing ship, the gravity of the ill known world began pulling the ship down, as its gravitational arc came into the stratosphere of the planet. Before long the crew and its passengers could only hope for a safe landing, gliding into the planet at high speeds. The crash was bumpy, scraping a dirt track over two kilometers long on a flat plateau, not far from a dense forest. Before touch down with the planet, an emergency signal on every frequency went out, IMPERIAL VESSEL DOWN; ASSISTANCE REQUIRED. Hopefully Imperial forces would find them, before any one else did.

OOC 2: The main goal will be to stop myself and [member="Max Fel"] from escaping from a small settlement several kilometers away from the crash site. Good hunting to all.

[member="tsarwars"] [member="Xavier Vi'dreya"] [member="Leo Vandermolen"] [member="Kiso"]

 

[Xavier Vi'dreya]

He hadn't quite believed it when the transmission was intercepted, and Imperial ship was a prize in and of itself, but high ranking personnel of the Galactic Empire had the potential to catch more than just a high ransom, there was the possibility of rewards of greater significance than him than credits. Taking the small vessel of his own he'd taken to using in order to navigate the galaxy, Xavier had jumped into the system and set himself down a few kilometers away from the crashed vessel.

Inside his craft, Xavier sheathed the Czerka Knife he'd kept at his side for years, snugly securing it across the back of his waist before sliding the helmet of the aging Phase IV Confederate Armor. It was a dated piece of equipment like the shield he slid onto his back, both originating from not the current iteration of the Confederacy, but either from the one prior, or the one prior to that. He'd lost track honestly. Regardless of their age however, the gear had served him well enough as he grew from a wild and near psychotic adolescent into the rather decent being he was today.

The only piece of equipment he found himself nervous to use was the spear he twirled with both hands momentarily, testing the feel of it. It was freshly made, and was entirely phrik, which meant crossing blades with an Imperial Knight or whatever the members of what must've been the thousandth incarnation of the Empire called their force users, would be feasible. Still he found himself worried the quality might not have been as high as it seemed. If it was what he was promised, the Vi'dreya had no worries, where he'd never had real training with a saber, which in turn cost him it, life on the frontier had provided plenty in terms of instruction with the longer weapon.

Lowering the ramp to his craft and stepping into the forest, the man began his trek towards the crash in silence.

[member="Butch Mahan"] [member="Max Fel"]​

 

[Leo Vandermolen]

The plan had worked without a hitch, well, up to now it had. The overload caused by a little professional tampering had caused the targeted ship to come back down to the service, without means of going anywhere soon. Leo's mole had informed him that there would be a high profile target attending the gatherings taking place, and that they would be aboard the corvette on its way off-world, a high enough profile to justify the trading of some Coalition men who had been unjustly prosecuted and imprisoned for false allegations of smuggling in Imperial space. A prisoner exchange would mean getting those men back out of harms way and the faster it was done, the less time the Empire would have to coerce any information vital to the Coalition's integrity.

So here he waited, flanked by a small squadron of ORC men in camouflage, encroaching on the crash site in search of the targets, prepared for any resistance. In truth, the mission wasn't the Coalition's idea, but rather Leo's. Rather then risking the wrath of the Empire in an action that screamed for a provocation of war, the Coalition rather chose to let the ORC men stay imprisoned, much to the dismay of many. And so Leo decided to take it upon himself to solve the problem, gathering a small band of people who shared his opinion on the matter, he contacted one of his connections through a secure link deep into Empire space, who had uncovered informed him of the meeting, and the potential benefits.

It was only a matter of time before Leo's men had surrounded the crash site, and time was ticking...

| [member="Xavier Vi'dreya"] | [member="Butch Mahan"] | [member="Max Fel"] |

 

[Kyle Raymus]

The cruiser glided through space as it performed yet another patrol run of the sector. Kyle stood on the command deck, staring out in to the depths of space, as they approached yet another planet within their patrol route. The starship passed the big rock as Kyle began pacing the deck. He was dying for something to happen. Something. Anything. He was patrolling this region of space for months, and nothing happened so far. Was this place even worth patrolling? Probably not. But still. He had orders, and he had to obey. The ship began aligning itself to jump into Hyperspace. Kyle walked towards the old rusty R9 Unit which was performing calculations when his communications officer exclaimed: "Incoming Imperial Transmission! Coming through on all frequencies! It's a destress signal, Imperial Corvette down 3 parsecs from our current location!"
Kyle turned around and barked orders into the ship's intercom.
"Talon squadron, prep the fighters, we are going on a hunt, this time, Imperial is the game."

Kyle moved towards the hangar decks. 6 minutes later, Talon squadron was out in the void of space, jumping to their target. This would be interesting.