Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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

Populate The Red War: PORT NOWHERE || CIS Populate of Farboon

Port-Nowhere-Header.png

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

At long last, the report came in.

With a nod to the helmsman, the call from the lower levels was put through. Petty Officer Virlee gave her status - and the edge in her voice was a testament to how chit their situation was. There would be those who would be a stickler for military decorum and tact. Yeshua was not one such. He'd much rather their vessel be returned to fighting condition than worry about one's tone.

The good news was, the shields were nearly ready. "Excellent work Petty Offic-" he began, but was interrupted by the turbolaser impacts. She needed more time, so Yeshua kept it simple. "You'll have your time."

Five minutes on the clock. The line went dead.

Now settled, the Commander returned his attention to his superior on the main screen. He could see the fury in her eyes, and marveled as she was willing to place her own vessel in the line of fire to protect his own. "Aye High Marshal." came his reply. He ultimately settled back upon his command throne and inhaled a calming breath.

"Prep the fighters for launch. In five minutes, we can bite back."


Port-Nowhere-Header.png

- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

At long last, the report came in.

With a nod to the helmsman, the call from the lower levels was put through. Petty Officer Virlee gave her status - and the edge in her voice was a testament to how chit their situation was. There would be those who would be a stickler for military decorum and tact. Yeshua was not one such. He'd much rather their vessel be returned to fighting condition than worry about one's tone.

The good news was, the shields were nearly ready. "Excellent work Petty Offic-" he began, but was interrupted by the turbolaser impacts. She needed more time, so Yeshua kept it simple. "You'll have your time."

Five minutes on the clock. The line went dead.

Now settled, the Commander returned his attention to his superior on the main screen. He could see the fury in her eyes, and marveled as she was willing to place her own vessel in the line of fire to protect his own. "Aye High Marshal." came his reply. He ultimately settled back upon his command throne and inhaled a calming breath.

"Prep the fighters for launch. In five minutes, we can bite back."

5 minutes.

What the he** was wrong with her? She should have told him at least an hour or more. Or even better; 'Hey, could we land this piece of scrap metal, so that I can assemble a team of the best engineers to have the whole weaponary system replaced?'
No, 5 minutes she told the commander and her pride made her determined to pull it off too! But she wasn't sure where to start as the code of error given was intricate to say the least.

Finnea entered the control room where the few other engineers sat, checking logs and reading into the codes given from the weaponary systems. It was all just a mess, and she demanded someone to give her some information she could use. Not getting what she wanted, she sat down to start typing away, trying to find out exactly where the problem was located and several searches later she narrowed it down to it being a physical problem, which made absolute sense seeing as the hyperstorm was rather bad.

Most likely it was the mechanics of turning sevreal of the canons that had lodged. Finnea got up from her seat and once more started to run through the hallways of CNS Jericho, finding the quickest route up to the deck where the canons giving off the error would be located, bringing along a few other engineers that was tasked to check for obvious damage taken during the storm.

Luckily, the issue was found rather fast; it was just that it required some welding, but time was up.
 

Kaira Vinesse

Guest
K


banemw8.png


TAG(S): Runar Ulfsson Runar Ulfsson | Saram Kote Saram Kote |


It hadn’t gotten better. Not in the time since she’d been posted on the roof of a neighboring building to the warehouse in which Runar Ulfsson Runar Ulfsson currently engaged. The stench of this place still hung heavy in the air. Heavy enough the the filters of her helmet now filtered even less of the odor from her nostrils. What a horrid place it was that people allowed themselves to wallow into such dire living conditions. But these were criminals and outlaws. They likely carried little love for those which so happened to find themselves in the way of their ill-set deeds.

Kaira groaned as she started down the eight flights of stairs toward the ground level where she might finally be able to assist her teammate. A teammate that likely was going to find some way to make her life and her job more difficult than she cared for it to be.
“Why . . .” she uttered angrily under her breath as she passed the fourth of the eight flights, marking her halfway point through her descent toward the ground. Moments more would pass before she finally reached the ground floor, her breathing now labored.

“Oh you owe me now, Duran.” Her voice came between her labored breaths, yet it was soft enough that the microphone inlaid into her helmet did not pick it up. She’d take a couple of seconds before continuing on.

As she finally entered the warehouse, she tossed a smoke grenade toward the area with which she saw the majority of the blaster fire originating. As the smoke would erupt and fill the large manifold of a room, her eyes would shift in an effort to locate her squad mate. A trivial task as it took no time at all to find the armored man grimacing and holding his armpit. The crimson hue of blood could be visibly seen painted over the man’s gloved hand as he held the pressure there.

She hurried over to Duran to better look at the severity of his wound.
“Really?” Her tone was sarcastic and carried with it a combination of frustration and disbelief. “Were you trying to flex on them? Show off your bodybuilder poses?” She shook her head and reached into a pouch on her belt, pulling from it a few medical supplies. “No. Let me guess.” she started again,
“You were waving and saying hello, weren’t you? And by Gods, or whatever it is you believe in, do you know what deodorant is?”

She shook her head again. It’s all she could bring herself to do at this point.
“This is going to sting.” Just as she finished, she went in with a rather large needle to attempt to control or nullify any infection. Unless Duran tried to fight it.

pink1.png


 


Port-Nowhere-Header.png


xadb4xT.png

Objective: - BLOCKADE NOWHERE -
TAG: Open | Yeshua Yeshua | Vorn Kessig

Anashla watched the enemy formation as fighters and bombers poured from the dreadnaughts hangars, the assault from the Ventress remained unrelenting but so far the high marshal did not press the attack. Instead, she saw the broadside cruisers take up a firing line and smirked a bit at the tactic. It was a good idea to engage at range for them. In close, they would not be able to weather the storm of the Ventress. Though they would find distance no refuge.

"Order our bombers forward, they will engage and destroy those broadside cruisers. Our fighters will provide support to the bomber squadrons." as she spoke, across all of the star destroyers as well as the Ventress, counter-missiles launched in response to the incoming salvo taking aim to intercept the inbound warheads. Anything getting past the counter-missiles would then have point defense systems to contend with as each ship threw up its on defensive field of fire. As in war, no defense was absolute several missiles were able to sneak through the defensive screens and struck two of the star destroyers multiple times, the damage was dispersed but there was indeed damage.

A quick glance to the tactical display confirmed the dreadnaught now fully shielded the Jericho. She turned her head to look at the droid. "Send the Thoros to the front, she is to engage all targets of opportunity with the priority of the broadsides. Maximum prejudice."

"As for the rest of our forces, the arjuna destroyers and the assault cruisers will advance with the thoros. They may engage at will. Inform all the Grievous-Class to engage at range prioritize the gladiators. Also, send up their bombers with our own."

"Now get me High Marshal Kessig on a secure channel."
she only had to wait for a short moment before the connection and gave a nod to her counterpart. "Vorn, if you are bored they brought a bit more to the party than we expected. We are not outgunned by a long shot, but if we divide their attention this will be over all the quicker. We are sending you coordinates to their rear."



  • Thoros battlecruiser moving to engage broadside cruiser with long-range artillery
  • Bombers from Ventress and the grevious glass moving to attack the broadsides and anything else in the enemy formation
  • Assault cruisers and artillery cruisers advancing with the Thoros and engaging all targets
  • Fighters from Ventress are covering the bomber squadrons. All other fighters remain in defensive screens
  • Task Force is actively scanning for command and control for the pirate forces, triangulating burst transmissions not coming from CIS IFF

 
- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

"Sir! The fighters are scrambled and awaiting your command!"
The helmsman called over the chaos of battle unfolding. It was fortunate that the shield systems were finally online, affording the CNS Jericho some room to breathe. The Petty Officer was truly flexing her skills with how quickly she worked. "What's the status on our weapons?" Yeshua inquired.​
"Still down sir!"
Still toothless. This did not mean that the Commander's faith in his Petty Officer was shaken. Far from it. This simply meant that the Storm had wreaked more havoc than initially considered. The vampyre reached up and briefly stroked his beard, contemplating the next course of action. They had adequate cover from the High Marshal's forces. The shields were up. They had room to breathe - but it was tight.
"Can we route power from the engines to bolster the shileds?"
"In theory, yes. No clue what impact that'd have on the repairs."
"Good. We have our 'oh chit' button." mused the Commander. He nodded to the helmsman, who then hailed Finnea Virlee Finnea Virlee right away.​
"Petty Officer - a question for you. Should we come under heavier fire, would bolstering our shields with emergency power or power from the engines impact your work?" There was a reason behind his madness. "If there would be no ill effects, I may be able to buy you more time. Standing by."
 

Vorn Kessig

Guest
V


XBIz6li.gif

poCX7Am.png
Tag(s): Anashla Deshal Anashla Deshal | Yeshua Yeshua | Finnea Virlee Finnea Virlee | Open


From all the way in the Yesmireen Sector, Vorn waited for any inclination that the Seswenna Armada might call for their aid, whether it be needed, or simply desired in order to expedite the operation within the Farboon system. Even absent the call for help, Vorn still monitored the events which continued to unfold from the sanctuary that the Fortressa offered him. But then came the call from High Marshal Deshal, requesting the assistance of the Yesmireen Sector forces in an attempt to expedite the operations currently taking place. And in the process, perhaps save a number of lives that need not be needlessly lost on both sides of the engagement.

Vorn rose from his seated position within his personal quarters and gave his response back to Anashla Deshal Anashla Deshal .
“We’ll be there momentarily. Do save some of the fun now will you?” He offered a quick half-hearted wink to his fellow High Marshal before the channel closed and he opened another to his first officer on the command bridge of the ship. “Prepare the fleet to jump to hyperspace. Destination Farboon.”


Quickly he slipped from his quarters and took the turbolift straight to the bridge where the team there was running through a flurry of pre-jump actions. They wouldn’t be taking the entirety of the Yesmireen Armada, but they would be taking a capable fleet to augment the forces already under the command of High Marshal Deshal. “Input these coordinates and be ready to jump on my command,” he ordered, ensuring the navigational officer had the coordinates that Anashla had sent them in order to best flank the enemy. “Have Sabre Squadron on standby and ready to launch immediately once the jump is complete.”

“Yes Sir,” came the brief, yet convicted response of various members of the bridge.

Sabre squadron was the elite starfighter squadron once led by Vorn. And prior to that, Alden Akaran, a man that was formerly a High Marshal himself and Deputy Minister of War, or Defense, whatever that position was being heralded as these days. Now the squadron continued to operate to the highest caliber, and continued to rank up in its prestige year after year.

Vorn, at this point, took a position standing firmly before the bridge, his gaze cast out through the viewport. The elliptical shape and familiar hue of Yesmireen would soon fade as the fleet made its final preparations for its jump. But for now, its image was comforting. The calming nature and comforts of what he had come to know as and call his home.


“Prepare to jump in . . “


“5 . . .”

“4 . . .”

“3 . . .”

“2 . . .”


“Jump!”

All in a moment a handful of previously designated ships’ hyperdrives roared to life. The blue-white glow of various celestial bodies became nothing more than incoherent streaks before them. An artistic display as though a painter had made elegant strokes through the black void of open space. And as the frames of the cinematic display poured pass, they would suddenly shift, giving way to the chaotic display of Farboon. Crimson tones streaked across the artist’s canvas, which was Farboon’s orbit with accents of emerald and sapphire. Dotting the unmarked areas were the dull tones of various ships, blemishes upon the otherwise vibrant display of the artist’s hand. But another detail was then added and a number of blue-white flares flashes from the rear of the adversarial fleet engaging that of the Seswenna Armada.

Just as commanded prior to the jump, the T-77 'Talon' Stealth Starfighters of Sabre Squadron launched, nearly completely undetectable as they set out to find their targets. And once found they’d engage. If they were successful, they’d launch a barrage ion energy in an attempt to break through shields and disable enemy engines. Their primary target being none other than the Vigil-class Corvettes and Corona-class frigates. If they could take away the maneuverability of the corvettes and frigates, they might be able to truly limit and deny the effectiveness of the enemy’s seemingly pieced together fleet.


“Set the assault line. Launch fighters and bombers.” Vorn’s voice was calm, but assertive and carried with it an undeniable sense of authority. “Target enemy frigates and corvettes.”


He turned. His next orders would be for the four Valiant II-class Assault Carriers, both Providence II-class Assault Carriers and both Lucrehulk II-class Battleships. “Target the Star Destroyers. Draw their attention away from the Ventriss. Target engines and life support. Extreme Prejudice.”

On command, the ships all moved into their designated formation and began to execute upon the commands given. The Fortressa, meanwhile, took its position just behind the main assault line and continued to launch fighters and bombers while unleashing its own salvo of ordinance against the now flanked fleet of the enemy. As part of the assault line formation, the eight Arden II-class Flak Frigates moved into a position in front of the larger capital ships of the Yesmireen fleet and began to place their flak barrage screen ahead of the fleet, preemptively setting the barrier to act as a barrier to both enemy fighter and bombers, as well as ordinance and salvos.

Next, Vorn reestablished his secure comm channel to the Ventriss.
“Anashla,” he started, “Setting the assault line and drawing their attention. We’ll pull everything we can away from you, but we’re at your command. Let’s finish this.” Along with the secure channel, the commands and movements of the Yesmireen fleet would be open for High Marshal Deshal to view in real time. She wouldn’t need to confer to Vorn for each movement his contingent fleet made. And although Sabre Squadron’s movements would be masked from both friendly and adversary sensors until they engaged their targets, their proposed movements and mission tasks would be available for her to keep track of.



  • Jumped from Yesmireen to Farboon
  • Set assault line in rear of adversary fleet
  • Sabre Squadron launched and is targeting Corvette and Frigate engines with Ion cannons
  • Providence II, Lucrehulk II and Valiant II targeting Star Destroyers and attempting to draw adversary attention away from Seswenna Fleet and Asajj Ventriss
    • Primary target is life support and engines
  • Ardan II Flak Frigate setting flak barrage in from of Yesmireen fleet.

Maramere_Bar.png

 
Port-Nowhere-Header.png

Social-Side.png
- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

Larsa sucked his teeth.

As the battle unfolded, it was becoming infinitely evident that their defense was turning into a last stand. Initially, the corsair fleet had launched a simultaneous assault. Turbolasers and concussion missles rained down upon the enemy formation - focused upon targets that were not the biggest fish in the sea. Yet, Larsa's fingers clutched the arms of his command throne in dismay. The initial assault had done little to nothing to the oncoming force. What's more, they were being fired upon heavily.

They couldn't hold out like this. He knew it. The corsairs knew it.

He certainly wasn't going to be able to get a starfighter safely out of this mess either. Think Larsa, think. He seethed. Racking his brains, he thought of an old friend. An ace pilot by the name of Sylvia Alvaro Sylvia Alvaro . She had been a member of his crew a long time ago, alongside her boytoy Var Talon Var Talon . And she used to get them out of all sorts of jams back in the day. What would Sylvia do?

"How far does the planet's gravity well go?" He asked, posing an open question to the bridge. The navigator hammered out some calculations and put the distance on screen.

"Bet. Hailing all crews - this is a wash. Ain't no way in hell we're taking them down." came his admission. "What we can do is make a break for it. Split up, max thrust, all different directions. Use your fighters to draw fire, do whatever you've gotta do to make it outta here."

There was a collective groan, some complaints, but ultimately they knew this was the best play. At once, the fleet began to advance. The Broadsides took point, covering the Gladiators with an additional salvo of concussion missiles. Some went left, others right. Larsa went down. "We don't need guns right now, we need speed and shields, gimme all the juice!" he called.

If nothing else, he was certainly going to make it out of this alive.


- After heavy losses, the corsair fleet is making a break for it
- Broadsides are making a forward advance, covering the fleeing Gladiators

 
- PORT NOWHERE -

The Hunter took a bold step forward.

As descent gripped the lift, Rience placed his lips upon the woman's brow. Her bemused quip had brought a greater smile to his face. He did not know how much hell awaited them on the surface - but at the very least, he knew they had one another's backs. Rience was strong in the Force. Cordelia was mighty with her newfound talents. Together, they were a walking hurricane. Therefore, taking a droppod to the planet's surface was easily the most "difficult" part of the operation.

"You should come by this side more often. My quarters are two floors down."

Rience's mind lived perpetually in the gutter. But, with a partner like Delia, who could blame him?

The quiet before the storm passed as quickly as it came. The turbolift shuddered with finality as it reached the hangar and the doors slid open. Rience eyed the drop pods which stood ready - but noticed chatter among the pilots. Some were disembarking from their ships before taking off. His brow raised. "Hang on..." he breathed thoughtfully. Absently, his offhand took hers as they strode out of the lift, guiding her towards the droid pilots.

"What's the current status?" he asked.

One of the B1 droids whipped its head around while still facing the other direction. "The enemy fleet is running. We're on standby for pursuit orders." Excellent. That would make their job securing the Port even easier. "Much appreciated!" he called, before motioning towards the pods.

"Down we go. After you."


 

PORT NOWHERE


Down to the wire.

As the Knight advanced down the ramp, he could feel a change in the air. It was a chill - one that was highly unusual given the supposed temperature of the day. Abel immediately realized that his comrade was diving into her own mastery of the Force. A quick glance back told the story: she was as winter. Good. She was ready and willing to do what was necessary. "Roger that, channel 3." he repeated, pausing only to flip his own personal device to said channel. As they moved, it became increasingly apparent that the enemy would have plenty of holes to hide in.

Residences. Holes between the shantily-assembled building. This reeked of an easy ambush.

Abel was no stranger to urban warfare. When he worked for the Black Sun, making use of similar situations made gunfights easy. However, their target was not this shanty town - but rather the port behind it. Moving quickly, the Knight could see the tails of ships coming into view. Excellent. And just in time too - as the droids began to rain down upon the surface. The comm channels went wild with confirmations, and Abel instinctively reached for his saber. "Gotta be quick, stay close!" he called, before rushing forward towards the port.

He reached out with his dominant hand, willing the Force to obey. As he moved, the aluminum tops of buildings peeled clean off and hovered menacingly in the air. The Knight put a spin on them and hurled them forward, cleaving multiple tails and wings off of parked vessels. The sparks, collisions, and overall noise were enough to scatter those persons wandering about. Good. The enemies would be rushing here soon. "Ground as many ships as you can, we won't have long." he called.

With no way of escape, they'd be easy prey for the ground forces.​


 
Ropo Lord of Hoth | Supreme Comandante General
Port-Nowhere-Header.png
V I C T O R Y


Yes, Victory! The little Ropo had done it once more and lived up to his grandiose title of Ropo Lord of Hoth and Supreme Comandante General. He once more stood triumphant over a great enemy, and the Confederacy of Independent Systems would carry the day all because of the little Ropo. As he stood proudly on a console situated on the bridge of Anashla Deshal Anashla Deshal Command Ship - never mind such questions as 'Where did he come from?', or 'How did he get here?'. The Crew should be rejoicing that once more, the little Ropo had achieved victory where others would have been met with defeat. Clearly, the day was carried by his greatness and it was his very presence that had caused all the allied crews to work harder knowing that the little Ropo was proudly watching them all.

"Biscuit."

He said solemnly as he stood there, his little arms resting behind his back - or rather, as far back as they would go to make it look like he was clasping his hands behind his... You know what, it doesn't matter. It was once more another moment of victory. The light seemed to shimmer and shine off of his little pink tutu and his magnificent hat, no matter from what angle an individual would look at the Ropo. He was stern, and fair in his command, proud that the High Marshal of the Seswenna Sector had trained their crew to the highest standards - which he could greatly appreciate and abide by.

As he turned to look at one of the crew members from where he stood on the panel, he nodded slightly and stepped forward, ready to congratulate them on their hard work. Clearly, the crew member would also be proud of their own accomplishments including meeting the great Ropo Lord of Hoth, Lilicky. He was a master of his craft, and as he stepped forward, a smile upon his face...

His little foot pressed down firmly on one of the buttons on the console, causing him to lose his footing - while oddly enough at the same time firing off a Turbolaser; the bolt of which screamed through space until it impacted the engines of a fleeing vessel and rendered the vessel dead in the water. As Lilicky attempted to regain his footing, he accidentally tripped over his tongue, the little Ropo was sent ass-over-teakettle as he now bounced down the console, hitting just about every button on the way down and firing off a brilliant salvo that seemed to disable one or two more of the fleeing vessels - clearly a tactical genius that knew what he was doing.

"Biscuits?"

The little Ropo called out as he tumbled off of the console and landed in the lap of the female gunner that was at the controls. She had saved the little Ropo from tumbling straight to the deck, and it was the intervention of those soft thighs that prevented him from having a much greater headache otherwise. As he lay there, face down, he seemed to muffle something as he attempted to speak.

"B...mmph... mmph..."

Surely it was some other inspirational words that would aid the crew in their duties. We may never know, for at that moment the little Ropo had decided, that with his work completed, it was now nap time.

"ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz..."

Rest well little Ropo, you've earned it.


 


Port-Nowhere-Header.png


xadb4xT.png

Objective: - BLOCKADE NOWHERE -
TAG: Open | Yeshua Yeshua | Vorn Kessig

Anashla watched as Vorn's task force jumped into the system the sudden presence of a second super star destroyer as well as its escorts reverted to normal space. A pleased smile touched her lips as the fear and panic began to set in on the pirate fleet. The reaction was swift and telling.

All at once under the constant barrage, the pirate formation broke and began to scatter as some ships began to jump out to hyperspace as they cleared the gravity well of the planet. Anashla's forces would continue to fire either to destroy or disable them as they fled but no attempt to give chase.

"Let them run like the rats they are. Incentivize their departure and keep the fire up."


  • Thoros battlecruiser moving to engage broadside cruiser with long-range artillery
  • Bombers from Ventress and the grevious glass moving to attack the broadsides and anything else in the enemy formation
  • Assault cruisers and artillery cruisers advancing with the Thoros and engaging all targets
  • Fighters from Ventress are covering the bomber squadrons. All other fighters remain in defensive screens
  • Task Force is actively scanning for command and control for the pirate forces, triangulating burst transmissions not coming from CIS IFF

 

Location: Port Haplite, Farboon
Tags: Abel Denko Abel Denko + open
Ship: "The Red Hare"
Equipment: Prosthetics, Armor (Dark Cloak armor), Diana original lightsaber +attachment rods.
Objective: Port Nowhere

Inspirational music

It didn't take long for the woman to see her companion rush past her. He was right in making their time within the suffocating walls of the town as short as they could. The eyes, like Jawa's in the dark, gave no indication that mercy would be in their nature. It started to happen, as the man was about halfway through the road, Diana started to move faster as well. Her left leg had its springs tightened well, so it took her little time to dash forward with a speed that didn't befit a cripple like herself. Deep breathes, and letting this power of the Force resonate within her... It allowed a lot more then just floating objects.

As she contemplated the luck she had as a Jedi to be able to do these activities, despite her metal limbs. But as the eyes grew closer, she saw the eyes behind the gleam and the face behind that still. The small, insane glare made her stomach turn. As one lunged at them she swiftly lifted her metal hand, taking hold of the creature with her mind, the Force her ally as she used the grip to throw him over her head to the back of them. The loud crashing of wood and flesh that met the grunts in intensity, would ensure the people knew to stay away.

As such the run was clear for the rest. Only a good 50 feet left as she let the sabre whir open, her other hand closed in a fist, the metal fingers curling into the fist she made. The fins of the ships became visible. Not a single one of them seemed ready to depart, not in the least by the great amount of scrap that was attached and used to build the machines. The objects had their engines start, as a metal plate was violently introduced to the side of the first ship by her companion. Its collateral included multiple ships beyond it still. Diana beheld it and steeled her mind. This was for the greater good.


"Roger, I'll start halfway and move towards the end. Notify on hostile contact."

She started to sprint, breathing as well as she could until she really was out of breath. She had no time for this, it would only make it more difficult to grow her powers with the force when she was out of breath. She tensed her body, the muscles under her outfit refuelled by the oxygen and the Force that flowed the woman. Her hair slowly loosing colour as her skin grew paler. Her eyes drew darker as the green circles of her iris remained and her Cryokenisis activating in full force as the soft air she breathed in, seemed to circulate through her lungs and exhaled a cold breath that was uncannily freezing. She looked at one of the ships next to her, expanding her mind and with sweat dripping down her face from focus, she pulled the heat from the engines, small crystals seemed to appear, only to have them turned to ice. The cool metal warping from the sudden change in temperature and with a violent crying of metal the engines stopped, their engines warped into a decommissioned state.

She took a few steps further and with one hand the cool air was dragged around as if she was guiding an orchestra. Like a banshee almost did she waltzed past the next multiple ships. Every time the cold air would rip hull, landing gear, engines and weapons, slowly but surely freeze, rapture and break. It was with her other hand that soft movements created force pushes that brought the weakened metal under scrutiny, and bend the metal into states so unusable, the repairs would likely be a huge undertaking... meaning her job would soon be done.

As her hair slowly regained the red colour, her face not nearly looking human again, the cold, raspy voice of Cryokenisis Diana echoed over the comms.

"Multiple down. Incoming hostiles, I'll take some of them at the far end, only a few remaining ships. I'll continue destroying those first."

She looked at his direction, awaiting his signal and then went directly to the ships to continue her pursuit of destruction.
 
Last edited:

Saram Kote

Strill Securities Al'verde

y43pnZR.jpg

Port-Nowhere-Header.png
Friendly Units: Vuhyr'yalilyr Rammikad squad Davaab
Saram saw the chaavla [1] shabuir [2] that'd fired on the CIS ramikad. She turned her rifle and quickly processed the stream of targeting data relayed to her by her armor and optic before pulling the trigger. Her optical camouflage held, the virtually noiseless AMR-4M barely kicked in her arms as it fired. A heartbeat later and the man's torso was turned to mist, a fine patina of blood the only sign of the man's existence. Her armor's systems tagged Corporal Runar Ulfsson Runar Ulfsson 's injuries, and picked up the IFF signature of Kaira Vinesse, no doubt tending to his injuries given their proximity.
Rusana dropped back behind cover to avoid being needlessly exposed to return fire, the outline of her armored form superimposed on Saram's HUD being the only indicator of this aside from a slight, somewhat telltale shimmer. "What I wouldn't give to hear that conversation," she laughed over direct helmet to helmet laser comms. Her sentence was punctuated by a trio of nano missiles fired by Janar explosively removing three criminals from the firefight.
At first, Saram was mildly confused by what her cousin'd said, but then she laughed, "Same thing Ran chews me out for every time I've got a dini'a plan." She was only half joking. Those two seemed close. Probably not romantic, but definitely close. If she was anything like Ran, then she was definitely telling him what she thought of him getting them both into a situation like this. Saram comforted herself by reminding herself that she was definitely a better shot, even if she did sometimes end up in such situations such as the one Corporal Carr had found himself in. She reserved the right to, after all, considering he hadn't even bothered to check in with her after they came in and took some of the attention off him.
"Alright, we've let these shabuir have their fun, time to earn our paychecks," she said into her helmet's speaker. Her optical camouflage flicked off as her shields came back to life. Saram swung around the pillar she was taking cover behind, her AMR-4 traded for the more easily maneuverable DR-04B. Two characteristic snap-cracks, two pirates fell, large chunks of their torsos missing as disruptor bolts explosively flash vaporized vital organs. "If you're still receiving, we've got you covered if you need to pull back," Saram transmitted over the ARCOM special ops comm net to both Kaira Vinesse and Runar Ulfsson Runar Ulfsson as her fireteam went into action, missiles and explosive darts adding providing a sharp contrast to the otherwise almost silent Verpine shatter weapons used by her and her team.
[1] Chaavla - Rough, unruly, of the criminal underclass (by Mando standards, which is very rough indeed).
[2] Shabla, Shab, Shabuir - Extreme Mandalorian insult, similar to jerk, but much worse.
 

2nEqrSU.png

Objective: S U R V I V E
Location: Port Hoplite, Farboon
Tags: Kaira Vinesse | Saram Kote Saram Kote

hotpurp.png

Kneeling down Carr continued firing, taking out another handful of criminals as they assaulted his position, watching as the Strill Securities Mando's as they took out criminals one by one with their fire. His attention was drawn over to the form of his comrade Kaira Vinesse moving towards him.

As soon as she got to him he heard the string of insults and jabs as he knelt there helpless to avoid her due to the unfortunate circumstances. Why do you always act like it's my fault, because if it really came down to my decision on the matter we wouldn't be having this conversation. I think you just take jabs at the wounded guy because it's easier than facing up to the fact that we're as mortal as the guys across from us." He muttered out between clenched teeth as he let out a sigh his eyes glancing up towards her.

hotpurp.png

Kaira rattled on into his ear as he picked up the Still Securities team over his comms,

"If you're still receiving, we've got you covered if you need to pull back,"

Carr let out a slight chuckle as he tapped his comm opening between the two parties, "We ain't out of the fight yet, we'll be backing you up here in a few mikes if you don't have the whole city under lockdown by then." Tapping his comm off he looked towards his partner, using his good hand he gave her a hand movement attributed to hurry up.

hotpurp.png

ApoJ9M7.png

 
- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

"Sir! The fighters are scrambled and awaiting your command!"
The helmsman called over the chaos of battle unfolding. It was fortunate that the shield systems were finally online, affording the CNS Jericho some room to breathe. The Petty Officer was truly flexing her skills with how quickly she worked. "What's the status on our weapons?" Yeshua inquired.​
"Still down sir!"
Still toothless. This did not mean that the Commander's faith in his Petty Officer was shaken. Far from it. This simply meant that the Storm had wreaked more havoc than initially considered. The vampyre reached up and briefly stroked his beard, contemplating the next course of action. They had adequate cover from the High Marshal's forces. The shields were up. They had room to breathe - but it was tight.
"Can we route power from the engines to bolster the shileds?"
"In theory, yes. No clue what impact that'd have on the repairs."
"Good. We have our 'oh chit' button." mused the Commander. He nodded to the helmsman, who then hailed Finnea Virlee Finnea Virlee right away.​
"Petty Officer - a question for you. Should we come under heavier fire, would bolstering our shields with emergency power or power from the engines impact your work?" There was a reason behind his madness. "If there would be no ill effects, I may be able to buy you more time. Standing by."
Finnea pulled out some of her gear which she wore in specifically made belts around her waist so that their little team of engineers could get down to start the process of welding the canon that was stuck. She started her brief but precise explaining of what needed to be done. Over her comm she could hear the commander ask her about the emergency power, using it for their shields. She still couldn't use her own comm to reply so she grabbed one of the comms that belonged to one of the other engineers, stepping aside.

"Petty Officer Virlee reporting, sir. Our work will not be affected by the redirection of emergency power, we could use the time." she looked back at her team, struggling with the process and she frowned a little to herself having heard the reports coming in over the comm all along. "We've located the problem and started repairs. I'll report back in once the job is done..." she said with some doubt to her voice this time, keeping the second set of comm on her.

Coming back up to the small crew, she could luckily see that here was progress with the welding. It was unfortunate that the whole weaponary system failed over one one the main canons being out - it was a serious problem to be dealt with later so this wouldn't happen again. But for now, the focus had to be at his particular task.
 
Port-Nowhere-Header.png

Social-Side.png
- BLOCKADE NOWHERE -

Oh, they bought the incentive alright.

As yet a second Super Star Destroyer reverted into realspace, the Corsair armada began to scatter. Larsa's gambit, of diving southward whilst his comrades broke to the east and west, seemed to pay off. His Gladiator plummeted further and further away, soaking up turbolaser fire as it moved, until finally they were in the green. The helmsman called out above the chaos: "Gravity well clear, Hyperdrive's green!"

"PUNCH IT!"

At once, the Gladiator dove into the depths of hyperspace. Those who survived the twin onslaught of the Confederate behemoths would also do the same. There were many who were not so lucky. Smaller capital vessels which were torn apart before they could even break. Larger broadsides which had been team-fired upon. Orbit was now a mess of flaming vessels.

Space Superiority had been secured.​

- PORT NOWHERE -

With each second, the finish line drew nearer.

Now landed upon the surface, the dispenser pods for the autonomous horde began to open. They were as ants, swarming a piece of fruit that had been left out in the daylight. Beginning as one. Then two. Then ten. Then many. The congregation of battle droids descended upon the port as a hurricane, moving at a brisk pace through the shantily constructed buildings. Onboard lifeform sensors made picking off hidden hostiles elementary. Blaster fire rang out from the far side of the city, causing the predicatable stampede towards the Port.

However, the brigands would find their means of escape in the process of being demolished. Two Forceful warriors unleashed hell upon the Port. Debris was being hurled into slumbering vessels. Ice was being hurled into their engines. As soon as they arrived, the enemies would find that there was no way out of the city. No way off the rock.

This reality would sink into the minds of those forces foolish enough to defend their ill-gotten gains. The blasterfire raining down upon the Confederate squads would lessen. Some would attempt to flee despite the overwhelming odds. Others would lay down their arms - hoping that surrender would breed leniency.

In the end, Farboon was brought to heel. The Red War was far from over. But at least, here, the Chaos was slowed.​



 
- PORT NOWHERE -

Relief coursed through the Vampyre's veins.

The timely arrival of yet another High Marshal's forces spelled the ultimate conclusion to the opposition. They, seeing the writing on the wall, scattered like the vermin that they were. The combined might of the Confederate armadas continued to encourage their retreat. A small part of Yeshua wanted to pursue. To leave not a single vessel standing. For, if they had the chance to escape, they would be able to lick their wounds. Recover. Rally more to their chaotic ways.

But, the CNS Jericho was in no condition to make any such pursuits.

As the situation unfolded before his eyes, the woman of the hour reported in. His suggested tactic of buying her more time by rerouting power would indeed not affect her efforts. Good. He would remember that for the next time. Hopefully they wouldn't ever find themselves in this sort of situation again. But if they did, he would be better equipped to handle it. "Petty Officer Virlee," came his reply, "You can breathe easy. The enemy forces are in retreat. Make the repairs at your leisure."

He sighed. Relief.

"Afterwards, have you and your engineers report to the Bridge. You all did exemplary work, and I'll have the whole ship know it."

 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom