Two Parts Pirates, One Part Zombies, Ninjas Optional - Galactic Alliance Dominion of Elrood

[Seris Vant]

Objective A
Location: Elrood
Post: 1/20
[member="Cuan Kunn"] [member="Sylvia Nuru"]

Five Reaper Class Elite Fighters deployed from the hanger. The squadron leader was Rayl Wilded himself. It wasn't often the Crime Lord left the bridge to partake in the fray of fighters personally. Their craft would pop up on enemy radar as if they ghosted in. In reality, the hanger bay they'd launched from was of the Star Destroyer, Thus Unto Tyrants. The only ship of its class size in the galaxy with stealth capabilities.

"Reapers, form up on me. Time to cut a swath out of them". An affirmation came from the four other pilots as they lined up on either side of Rayl. It was go time, and the Alliance wouldn't know what hit them. Rayl hit the thrusters to max and banked right. Followed by his wingmen, all headed right for the main fray between the opposing factions.

 

[Nubica Felidae]

[Post=3/20]​

She headed inexorably towards the ground — following the fighters and soon she could see the narrowing gaps between an endless sea of buildings. She could see blurs in the viewports, blurs that had to be startled faces.

The pair of fighters had gone from being the hunted to the hunters. They were now on her tail pursuing her with agility, matching her manoeuvres with little effort, now firing their linked lasers at her tail. She levelled off, juking left and right as much as the narrow confines would let her, and green laser blasts slammed into buildings on either side of her and into her reinforced rear shields.

"I can't shake them, Control," she said. "They're good."

Her ships shuddered as another laser blast slammed into her stern shields and penetrated to reach her hull. She glanced at her diagnostics board. Minimal damage to hull, no indication of other problems. Yet. "Control, any ideas? I'm flying for my life here."

She dropped down another ten meters to fly under, rather than through, a walk-way connecting two skyscrapers. One fighter mimicked her, the other rose and flew over the obstruction.

Below and ahead was another enclosed crosswalk; beyond it, immediately below the crosswalk's level, two buildings widened so that there was scarcely any room between them. She dove again, came up immediately beneath the walkway, and rotated ninety degrees, her wings now pointing skyward and ground-ward, to fit in the narrowing gap between buildings.

 

[Liliane]

Location: Elrood | Exact Location Unknown
Objective: D - Personal Business
Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: Enemies of the Galactic Alliance
Post: [ 02/20 ]

LIlin opened a map to get a better overview of the place as a whole. She had no idea where the relic had been taken, but she was pretty sure with the combination of a map and her own Force Sense abilities, she would be able to find it in the 24 hour time limit. And even though she'd spent a few hours of that time, she was sure she would be able to succeed.

She tried to save the general plan of the map into her mind as she closed the map and tried to use the aid of the Force. The optimal results would have been gained if she would have meditated, but she was not too much of a meditative person, nor would she be able to ensure she would be safe during the whole time of meditation.

She closed her eyes for a moment to sense the ripples of the Force around her and to find the general direction in which the relic could be in. It was supposed to be easy -- the item was strongly imbued with the Force and was supposed to radiate a lot of energy.

 

[Cuan Kunn]

Objective A
N>20
Entering Elrood airspace
[member="Sylvia Nuru"]
[member="Nubica Felidae"]
[member="Rayl Wilded"]

Roller was looking at the ship and tweeting nervously to its pilot. The ship was going to be hitting turbulence if the Sullustan didn’t slow down as it entered the airspace, but that wasn’t something that was concerning the pilot. He needed to get down to the hard line and locate the pirate fighters before they could do any real damage. Following Gold Leader’s moves, Gold Two’s fighter was below and behind, missing the engine wake but providing cover for anything that was coming from the surface to air.

Data flooded all of Gold Squad’s astromechs, locations to cover, friendly craft, including the Harlequin, owned by [member="Marcus Itera"]. Locking in a squadron of T-Wing that were heading towards the production facility, Kunn tucked his S-foils into cruise mode and slammed the accelerator.

When he had a target, he went screaming for it.

“Gold Flight One, Kunn, you’ve got the lead, take those T’s down. I’ll meet up with you, working escort to get some of the groundpounders on the ground. Take Three and Four, and whoever joins and give ‘em hell.”

“Acknowledge. Tighten formation, when we get within five thou klicks, break and take it to them.” He ordered to the others. “Jedi fighter, come ‘round, I’ll clear your tail.” Cocky S.O.B.

 

[Marcus Itera]

Location: Elrood
Objective: A - Eliminate pirates, capture commanding officer.
Allies: [member="Sylvia Nuru"], [member="Cuan Kunn"], [member="Nubica Felidae"], [member="Rayl Wilded"]
Post: [02/20]

The Harlequin hurled out of hyperspace and right into the middle of the fray. Sensor pinged sporadically, data streamed across several terminals, and Miranda's eyes flashed a bright azure as she doubled down on her processing efforts. She was possibly the best autopilot - ever. Within seconds, the weapons were priming, the deflector shields were powering up, and the sublight engines kicked into full throttle as the Firespray sailed into action.

Marcus grunted and seized the control yolk, switching to manual and glancing over the HUd. "Alliance boys and girls, this is Marcus Itera of the Harlequin. Glad you fine folks invited me to the party," his fingers danced across the terminal to engage the sensor jammer, "So I hope you like the gifts I brought."

"Weapons ready, shields up. We're good to go when you are." The AI reported, taking great care to set the inertial compensator to a proper 97%.

And with that, he amped the throttle to catch up with the Alliance formation.

 

[Nubica Felidae]

[Post=4/20]​

As before, one fighter went high and the other followed her closely. But the profile of the pursuers was not as variable as that of an X-wing.

In this narrow gap, her pursuer didn't have the space. It hit the four-meter opening between buildings and the buildings sheared both wings off — until he was effectively piloting a torpedo. The fighter dropped, bouncing between buildings on its way down until it detonated.

The gap between buildings widened. She rotated until she was horizontal again.

The remaining fighter resumed firing on her; lasers flashed past her strike foils to blow through building walls below, and her stern shields took more hits.

Ahead and above was a crowd of high-altitude skimmers — aerial traffic following one of the posted routes. But these skimmers were all decorated with the colours of a local crime lord.talk about flaunting it.

"Hey, fair game." Nubica rose into the cloud of skimmers, flashing just below most of them, using them as a screen. Her pursuer's lasers hit skimmers all around her. Several detonated, raining shrapnel upon her.

 

[Mediha]

Allies?: [member="Darius"] [member="Kai Xanatos"] [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"]
Post: 1/20

Mediha certainly didn’t balk at grunt work, which was good given everything the Alliance had been throwing at them lately, but she seriously considered not attending the next mission Darius was given. He was a capable individual; capable enough to only get himself maimed rather than killed. He would be fine on his own in most situations-- all, provided his allies actually wanted to help him. Unfortunately, the people the Alliance had assigned to work with him did not fall into that category and so there was always the possibility of him receiving a job too large for him to handle on his own.

Rovasus was the biggest part of the problem. The moment Mediha saw him open his mouth, she rolled her eyes away. Everything about Rovasus left something to be desired. His distaste for everything not himself was wearying, and his treatment of Darius and those around them was beginning to make her give serious consideration to having him ‘slip’ in the next spot of danger they found themselves in.

Mediha wasn’t able to help darting a glance of surprise at Darius when he almost exactly echoed her thoughts. Even couched in humor-- false or otherwise-- he wasn’t generally one to offer a threat in exchange for discourtesy. Mediha fell into step as she privately approved of his response. Pushing him into a pit seemed too simple and too risky for Darius; an unfortunate accident would be better for… morale. It wasn’t long before that exact opportunity presented itself. An undead hoarde blocked the way, growing slightly with the addition of a few more bodies from the tunnels adjacent to them. Mediha glanced at Darius; as if her look at been timed to free him, he shouted his orders in sync with their new ally and weapons fire erupted. She stepped back and let the soldiers take the front lines, giving them the chance to take care of the bulk of the bodies. Her magick could be saved for a time when men were reloading or tired. Emergencies.

“You should probably aim for the heads,” Mediha suggested when she realized how much ammunition and effort was being wasted. Zombies were not unknown to the Nightsisters, though theirs were usually purposely raised. These seemed to be operating independently-- unless they were being controlled from a distance by someone powerful. A quick check showed no external power; these were zombies, born and bred, somehow, on their own. Fascinating.

The witch had no confidence she had been heard over the hail of bolts; the men certainly didn’t seem to change their strategy, none but Xanatos, implying he had very likely come to that realization on his own. Assuming the problem was solved, Mediha stared at Rovasus’s back, assessing her options. It would take very little effort to make sure he wound up falling into their midst, even less to make sure some of the zombies made it to him. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in contemplation for a moment, before she was ripped from those thoughts by Xanatos suddenly throwing himself into action. Mediha sneered as he grabbed Darius, the very man he had just said was his superior, by the collar in an unnecessary display of panic. Three years in service, had he said?

Men. So overdramatic.

The grenade in his hand, rather than the living dead approaching them, encouraged her to fall back. Two explosions followed that made Mediha glad she had given herself ample room. As Xanatos ran back to the door panel, the ground under the newly arrived zombies glowed, and they suddenly found themselves trapped in place. Any that crossed into the light were caught, helplessly pulling against the grip of her magick; holding so many was difficult, but she could maintain the spell for long enough that the group could get some distance between themselves and the mob if the nearly twenty soldiers with her truly thought they couldn’t take them. Where had all of these creatures come from, anyway?

“Darius, perhaps we could just… get rid of them now,” Mediha suggested, voice and expression equally and unnecessarily nondescript.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

[member="Mediha"], [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"], [member="Kai Xanatos"]

Retreating really wasn't the best option right now. Darius wasn't against a tactical fall-back; he just didn't want to commit to one so early on. These creatures, he was unwilling to admit they could possibly be the living dead, fell easily enough. His lightsaber carved violent blue arcs through the dark as it beheaded one of the shambling brutes, a second swipe carved a beast from shoulder to hip. Relentless as they were, the padawan had little problem when it came to cutting them down. They had nothing by way of defense save for sheer number, and a lightsaber did not slow down due to an overabundance of bodies.

He'd readied to fire a blast of telekinetic energy from an open palm when Kai took him by the collar. Blue eyes narrowed in confusion as the man spoke. Retreat? Perhaps. they had only lost one man thus far, and Darius was busy weighing his options. Of course, most people would see one man as too many. the padawan thought that way most times, but he was in the heat of battle. Adrenaline and the force guided his actions, not a calm mind.

Perhaps that was part of his problem lately.

"It's clear they've sent us here to take care of these...things. We'll cross the bridge again and bottleneck them. Then we'll move in further." He stated calmly, relying on the force to project his voice over the roar of gunfire.

The Ravens did just that, falling back behind the bridge and dropping to their knees to better support their weapon. The thermal detonator Kai had thrown caused massive damage to the beasts beyond the bridge; innards and severed limbs decorated the alcove they had crawled out of. Then PFC Xanatos beat feet for the door. It was logical, really, and had Darius not had a Nightsister and the combined might of his ravens, the man might have joined him.

Once Kai's boys were across the bridge, the Ravens opened fire at any of the beasts that might have dared to walk across. Some of them fell into the chasm. Others wilted as their heads popped like balloons. Darius assisted via telekinesis, hurling the monsters that drew too close into the abyss.

 

[Mediha]

Allies?: [member="Darius"] [member="Kai Xanatos"] [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"]

Mediha stayed several paces back from Darius, eyes shuttling around at the zombies filtering in, straining to keep her hold over them until she had broken out in a cold sweat. She could burn them away, but that would drain her, and Mediha was sure they might need her magick later. Instead, she held the spell, keeping back the rearward zombies until the Ravens had thinned the front ranks a bit. Mediha braced herself as she saw the front ranks thinning.

"Second wave," she announced loudly, and released the hoard under her control. The immediate release of pressure was a welcome relief, but she wasted no time following Darius's lead and began using magick to toss one or two at a time backward or into the abyss as they grew too close to the front line of soldiers. Thankfully, the wellspring was not endless; with this many, it was doubtful all had come at the sound of gunfire, but there was an end in sight and Mediha saw it in the thinned rear ranks of the creatures.

She moved up next to [member="Darius"] and set a hand on his arm. "Do we know how many of them have bred down here?" she asked. Her eyes traveled past him and she stiffened, her scarlet nails digging into his arm. "Darius."

A small group of the lumbering undead had exited from a side tunnel behind them; they still seemed somewhat disoriented, but the bursts of gunfire were as clear a homing beacon for them as they had been for the others. They shuffled somewhat quickly along a narrow ledge toward the bridge's end, intent on reaching the contingent of soldiers. There were six, maybe eight of them, all told. Mediha took up her lightsaber with her free hand. They were about to find out if Darius's training was worthwhile. She activated one half of her lightsaber, bathing her body and Darius's in the red glow of the blade. "Keep them to the front; we can handle this."

 

[Nubica Felidae]

[Post=5/20]​

When a skimmer ahead of her blew up, she decelerated as hard as she could and was vibrated by her fighter’s shudder. Half on main engines and half on repulsorlift landing engines, she rose through the cloud of flame and debris...And as she cleared it she saw the other fighter racing along ahead, not having anticipated her sudden deceleration.

It was slowing now, preparing for one of the impossibly tight turns some fighters could manage.

She bracketed the enemy with her heads-up display. The brackets went almost instantly from yellow to red and she fired, sending a proton torpedo straight into the vehicle's cockpit. It detonated, a brilliant flash of light and debris.

Then her view spun as she was hurled out of control.

She saw a building side rushing toward her, frightened faces in the viewports — before she managed to pull up, scraping the building as she did with her shields.

She’d been hit by a skimmer. It was flying blind through that first explosion and slammed into her from the side.

Nubica chuckled. "They say the city is a dangerous place."

 

[Liliane]

Location: Elrood | Exact Location Unknown
Objective: D - Personal Business
Allies: The Galactic Alliance
Enemies: Enemies of the Galactic Alliance
Post: [ 03/20 ]

"Lilin, I've found something you might wanna know," the man she'd talked to before now contacted her via her holocomm. He seemed to be really eger to tell her exactly what he'd found. Judging by his tone, the girl could tell the thing was urgent.

"What is it?" she answered simply, a little bit annoyed that her focus had been interrupted, yet feeling quite grateful that she didn't have to do all the work on her own. Maybe the information would pretty much tell her the exact location of the relic.

The man cleared his throat. "Uh, it's complicated. Well, I am pretty sure I know the location of the relic -- I've sent you the coordinates. But the more difficult part is getting in there and getting the thing back. The karkhead has put it on an auction. Once it's sold, we ain't gettin' it back."

That was bad news. In fact, it was very bad news.

Lilin sighed. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. Is the place far away from here?" she asked as she started moving towards the location of the relic. She didn't know a lot about coordinates, so she struggled with that a little bit.

"No. Just a few kilometres to the direction you're going right now."

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective A
Location: Elrood
Allies: [member="Nubica Felidae"] [member="Cuan Kunn"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Rayl Wilded"]
Post: 3/20

As she grew closer to the unknown vessels, Cardinal began beeping and sputtering wildly.

"Alright, alright! Jeez, you're bossier than a hungry Swamp Bantha. Switching coordinates to cover the Harlequin." Sylvia punched in the directions and then activated her comm to hail the nearby ship.

"Harlequin, this is Lt. Nuru," Sylvia said in her most confident voice, which was still soft and distinctly feminine. "You'll see me flanking you in 2 minutes. I will fly port-side and under your command."

The redhead pilot activated her own deflector shield, hit the thrust and shot through the sky, the shining ball of Elrood looming closer as she strove to catch up with the Harlequin.

 

[Marcus Itera]

Location: Elrood
Objective: A - Eliminate pirates, capture commanding officer.
Allies: [member="Sylvia Nuru"], [member="Cuan Kunn"], [member="Nubica Felidae"], @Rayl Wilded
Post: [03/20]

The Firespray hurled through the sky with the impunity of a flying tank. It easily dwarfed the X-wings and assorted Alliance fighters as it chugged alongside them, bristling with rotating blaster cannons and a myriad of projectile launchers. The thrum of the sublight engines felt good, and the smell of fresh axial grease made the pilot shiver with delight. Clean and efficient; two traits every single piece of his equipment possessed. There was nothing he disliked more than going into combat with something dirty or rusted.

"Incoming transmission. Want me to just open the channel?"

Marcus nodded, veering the vessel to the left to zero in on incoming fighters. "Yes, go ahead." These pirate attack craft were oddly familiar. Archaic Headhunters, old Rebellion craft, droid fighters, and even a pair of old TIEs from the Sith Empire of decades ago.

The message played through, with a woman introducing herself as a Lieutenant Nuru. Now that was something special. A Lieutenant wanted to fly under his command. The Mandalorian took a moment to chew the meat of the moment, enjoying the thought of a commissioned officer relinquishing her own authority for his own. It wasn't often that officers did that. Marcus had been a career enlisted man, made it all the way up to the top until he was advising Battalion Commanders on whether or not they were doing the right thing.

He toggled the frequency and left it on. "Sounds good to me, Lieutenant. Just try not t' scratch the paint. I paid a lot for this old bird."

They'd be closing on half a squadron within half a minute. Intercept vectors were primed and he was sure that these fighters had already been readying their payloads.

 

[Kai Xanatos]

Objective C
[4-20]
NPC Count: 6 man Strike team.
Allies: [member="Darius"], [member="Rovasus Vonstrogg"], [member="Mediha"],

There were reasons to why I grabbed him. Heat of the moment? Sure. I only had seven men. Losing one, meant that we had to do more to kill the same amount of the undead that he could have. He had gotten too close, and he risked his life for that. if we wanted to preserve ourselves, then we needed to be in a more strategic position. Out in the open like we were, we could have them come down the hall behind us, across the bridge and prevent us from retreating should we have to. Meaning we would be stuck. And considering that if we kept up this firing of blaster fire, in a completely enclosed environment, it caused echos. Think of a sub. It echoed because of how close the walls were. No sound could escape. It could only fade for a time.

We also had to think. Soldiers shooting their guns, and throwing a few nades used very little effort. Swinging a blade, weightless or not, took more effort due to having to concentrate on not cutting yourselves. The force as well. Use too much, you would die. Small amounts here and there were no problem at all. But using too much force all at once, making yourself a liability, would only make us leave you behind, or all die trying to get to you. Not a very smart option. During the mythed Order 66, even Jedi Masters went down. They were in the middle of battle. Fighting for their life already Only for them to be turned on suddenly.

I have never worked with these people. So I wanted to make sure if they were to stab me, it was when I could see it, and counter it. Even more so with the Ex-Imperial. I was paranoid like that. Being a solder means you have to think of every situation you can, and plan ahead. Not in the now, not two or three steps ahead, but five six, even ten ahead. Plan for the worst, and you will be closest to ready as you can be. The thermal detonators took out a portion of them. It helped. Kind of. The explosion seemed to only make the ones still standing angrier.

Standing next to the console. My men started to run across. I crouched down and fired with another man trying to cover them the best we could. When it was our time to go, I grabbed him by his shoulder and pushed him onward. No time for words really. He started running, and I did as well. my boots seemed quite compared to the ramble behind me as the two force users were throwing them off left and right. As well as the overs covering me. One of my men must have been a bad shot because he almost hit me, when I heard a slamming sound of the bolt hitting home for one behind me. Okay Nevermind. Not a bad shot.

After reaching the other side, We funneled them in. Letting the bridge keep the crowd contained to a point. Instead of turning around and firing, I continued past them, and crouched. Watching behind us to make sure none were coming from that direction. Sure, I might be a little loony for that, but I would rather check for a second, and waste it, than not and get bitten in the ass. In this case, almost literally.

If I was going to take point, then I was going to take that point and slam it home. Too many times have I seen and heard about scout parties vanish because of poor tactics. or not planning in advance. It was a big help to have Force users here. No doubt about that. They could do things that I would never be able to do. However, I didn't want to tax them. I didn't want to rely on them. I wanted to keep them as a safety. Use them to the advantage of the group. Not just myself or for them. If we wanted to survive, we needed to work together and not have fighting among ourselves. if that meant literally grabbing them and throwing them in the direction that they needed to be in, then I would do it. If it could save one life that could be prevented, then i'd do it.

"Aim for the heads. Slow and precise. I need shooters, not sprayers."

I turned back towards the group, and fired a few rounds myself.

Just another day at work.

 

[Armand Temi]

Objective A
Location: Elrood
Allies: [member="Nubica Felidae"] [member="Cuan Kunn"] [member="Marcus Itera"] [member="Rayl Wilded"]
Post: 4/20

Sylvia smirked at the pilot's warning, as she finally caught up to the Harlequin. "Don't worry, cowboy, this ain't no air rodeo. You'll barely know I'm here," she shot back. "And you can call me Red Devil."

The flame-haired pilot brought her X-wing alongside the vessel she was covering and tipped her wings in a friendly greeting. But soon enough she locked her sights on the ragtag amalgamation of pirate ships. She programmed her cannons for quad fire and went straight for the old TIEs. Having flown the TIE Fighter, and more recently the TIE Dominator, she knew everything there was to know about them, including how to take them down.

From the mech station, Cardinal emitted a high pitched warning. "I see him, I see him," Sylvia groused. She dipped low and plummted into a dive, evading fire from a nearby craft which was quickly shot down by one of the other Alliance X-wings. She pulled back up and was right back on the tail of the TIEs. She fired the quad cannons and hit one of the TIEs, sending it spinning off wildly. The astromech bleeped in what she thought was appreciation, until she glanced at the droid translator. "Lucky shot?!?" Sylvia exclaimed, laughing. "No need to be cheeky now!"

 

[Zak Dymo]

Silly Galactic Alliance.​

​

Ninjas are never optional.​

Post [color=#87CEEB"]1[/color] of 20
[color=#87CEEB"]Objective:[/color] BYOO - The Year of Blood, Part 1
[color=#87CEEB"]Location:[/color] Dinbar

For several years, the Dark Lord of the Sith who had been reborn Darth Scorpius had managed to manipulate a cabal of urchins, despots, and rabble into functioning as his puppets.

He had lorded over them as a master, but none had been his apprentice. They were, instead, refined into only what he needed them to be. And given only so much knowledge as was necessary to enable them to act in his interests, without ever becoming a threat to him. When any one of these slave-assassins became too independent, demonstrated too much skill, or exhibited the ability to learn about the Force without him -- they were retired.

That is to say, he had them killed.

There was no hidden agenda in that. Rather, it was the very first thing any of them had been told when the Sith had pressed them into his service. We keep you alive to serve the Dark Lord. Serve well and live.

One of the Pantoran's earliest assignments had been to Tosche Station on Tattooine. It had been a job from the master, so there was no questions to be asked. Now, in the company of the Silver Jedi, the young witch-boy had become familiar with the Jedi idiom Do, or do not. In the service to the Sith, the equivalent expression would have been Do, or die.

He'd tried not to think about the rumors or gossip, that his target had been one of Darth Scorpius' slaves, just like Boo was. That he'd been dragged into this hellish life unwittingly, just like Boo was. That he'd been told by the master to go, wait at Tosche Station, just like Boo was. They were the same. Except Boo was there to retire him.

It had come full circle in due course.

Not long after the young Pantoran had met the Primeval -- found acceptance, new thoughts, new ideas -- Darth Scorpius had summoned the boy to the Wheel. And Boo knew traveling there that it was to retire him.

Except he'd fought back. Broken the chains of slavery and made himself free. But that was his tale.

Now, for the rest of the story.

Darth Scorpius had other assassins in his service. What had happened to those silent killers in the wake of Boo's act of rebellion?

While the boy had found spiritual rejuvenation among the Primeval, his fellow slaves had gone their separate ways. Some back to the Sith, to that old, familiar pain. Some dead, the victim of a past that caught up with them.

Others found respite on the path to which their dark master had set them. The art of assassination. The profit in a man's blood.

As the Seinar Star Courier landed at the former Imperial star port on the western shore of the Lodon Sea, the amber eyes of the Pantoran looked out over the city. He'd departed Voss on a mission to try and atone for the year spent in service to the Sith and a slave to fear, time in which he'd killed without conscience, without remorse, and without question.

If his information was correct, one of Darth Scorpius' former assassins was on Elrood. And that meant someone was going to die tonight.

The only question that remained was, could a homeless kid from the ghettos of Coruscant make a difference?

...or was this merely pouring out more blood upon his hands?

 

[Darth Eversor]

Objective: C
2/20
NPC Count: 5
Allies: [member="Darius"], [member="Kai Xanatos"], [member="Mediha"]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gm5LcLCGluQ​

Zombies, rather, "subjects" as the lab coats liked to call them. These creatures weren't entirely foreign to the Captain, especially since he was part of the demise of many-a innocent for testing purposes. The Empire had its ways of dipping its fingers into an array of experiments and other useless funding that Rovasus found more tedious than beneficial. These shambling cadavers stirred and swayed like the waves of an ocean, each one forcing the other in front of it to push with all their dead weight. Holding his own, he'd make an example for the other soldiers to bear witness. Short bursts from his T-21 slew the rotting pus-bags by the dozens. Not a single one able to even touch Rovasus, suddenly, his gun clicked on empty.

With some sleight of hand, the empty magazine was discarded and replaced in the blink of an eye. A consistent stream of bursts continued, his squad followed with the same method. If there was one thing Darius and the NIghtsister would pay attention to, it was the man's ability to hold his own and command a squad with swift execution and little to no flaw. This was once his career, and his training and service was paying off to say the least. The bodies were starting to pile up, and with the explosions going off, the situation was starting to get a little hectic. Why the Jedi brought along the extra company was abysmal and unnecessary. In fact, it was offensive and a mockery to the Captain's ability and integrity as a once proud commando. Just a reminder that Rovasus didn't care for any of these people and he'd prefer to keep all of the current relationships as professional and unclouded with confusion or feelings.

As a military man, feelings were kept in check and out of company time.

Without any words, Rovasus ceased firing briefly to give a single gesture to his men. Slowly backing away in a crouched position, they filed closer together and seemed to alternate in turns as they continued to mow down the seemingly endless horde of rot and filth.

Project I71A

That was the one. Suddenly Rovasus' thoughts turned to his allies and how he could study them under a new light. A light that would shine in such a way where their shadows would parallel the ones of these creatures. Such thoughts would not overthrow the current predicament at hand just to sate a twisted curiosity. If anything, Darius would be spared from it. The rest could mutate and become husks and then die to a slug to the dome or a bolt, hell, a glow-stick even.

"It's time to push forward! Wall formation, level with their necks and use bursts only! Alternate and keep track of your ammo, move!"

One of the freaks managed to stumble out of the crowd and tried grabbing for the Captain, gnashing teeth and raw bleeding gums longed to rake in flesh behind them to fill a stomach that no longer functioned. Rovasus would not allow any part of himself to be wasted in such a thoughtless manner. Bringing his boot up and down into a curb-stomp, the creature's leg was snapped in half while the Captain's right hand hooked it with a wrist-mounted vibroblade. Shoving it back into the crowd of its infected kin, the succession of burst fire was unified once more as all the soldiers put forth effort to exterminate such a nasty pestilence.

I71A... What really happened?

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 2 of 20
Objective: BYOO - The Year of Blood, Part 1
Location: Dinbar

K'ythri was a Kushiban.

Small. Cute. Adorable by most standards in the galaxy. She'd been nabbed as a child on Kushibah by bounty hunters and came into the possession of the Hutts, after which she'd been cycled through slave markets dealing in exotic pets. One owner she'd landed in possession of had a successful creature show -- pitting small, sentient beings against one another in gladiatorial combat for sport and gambling.

Darth Scorpius had been present for one of those matches, and inspired by the ferocity and potential in this one little white rabbit.

More so than any of them, she had been the closest to him -- even going so far as to use her as a bodyguard on occasion. She was adept at explosives, blasters, slug-throwers, and even lightsabers. Whereas Boo had been taught the basics of Shien, to use while escaping from any direct conflict, K'ythri had been instructed in Ataru. Making her a whirling dervish of destruction in close combat.

The little bunny had a Tenloss rifle on a tripod now, peering through the scope as she adjusted the angle toward one window of the adjacent building. An office space occupied by an executive of Transsector Lines Ltd. He'd been offered a 'deal' by the Black Sun, the offer of paying tribute or protection money to the mob in exchange for security through a corridor of space replete with pirates, but he'd found a way around their so-called bargain by working with neighboring systems to charter new trade routes and open up new markets.

That kind of innovation didn't sit well with some people. Especially when it took credits out of their pockets.

K'ythri likely knew none of this. And didn't care. In the most likely scenario, she'd only taken the job because there was a spa on the South Elrood Ocean she wanted to try, and this was a convenient way to score an all expense paid getaway.

The new Transsector Lines building was going up next to the old headquarters, replacing what had been warehousing in part of a corporate remodel. The basic floors and some infrastructure were in place, but the exterior face hadn't been put in place. Instead, drop cloths helped to keep out some of the elements, draping around where the small Kushiban crouched over her sniper rifle in preparation for the kill.

The target had a routine, as most people did even without being conscious of it.

He'd come in. Eat lunch at his desk. Hold his calls. No one would interrupt him. And he'd be largely stationary.

Glancing down at her chronometer, the Kushiban returned to the rifle scope and set a paw against the pressure sensitive trigger as she drew a bead on the spot where she expected his head to appear.

A minute.

Two minutes.

This was unusual. The Kushiban had watched her target over the course of several days. Looking for the patterns. Making certain she understood when he was most vulnerable. When the opportunity came with the least risk of detection, or capture. As three minutes ticked by, the small assassin was certain that she'd missed something.

A presence?

Leaving the rifle, the small rabbit-like alien bounded through the empty interior of the half-completed structure. Hopping in a blur of speed, the lagomorph slid across the bare, duracrete floor as she arrived near the lift that would take her to the speeder parked on the roof. Before she got close, there was a mechanical chime.

Someone was riding the lift. Coming to her floor.

Standing on her hind feet, the Kushiban removed two small blasters from off the harness that she wore. Red bolts sailed across the room, piercing the metal of the lift doors. Sparks illuminated the door frame, the stench of tibana gas becoming overpowering as the doors parted and the shots continued, needling the inside of the exposed lift.

As the mico-blaster cartridges were emptied, the Kushiban discarded them without a second thought. As the smoke cleared, the bunny brought two pieces from off the harness, sliding one end into the other as she assembled the small lightsaber with a slight click. As the wind from outside lifted away the fog of blaster warfare, the Kushiban could see there was no one inside the lift.

An angry chittering escaping the buck-toothed killer. There was a presence here. She could sense it. "Where are you?" the small assassin asked, anger slipping into her voice as a blood red blade came alive in her hands.

There was a rattling sound behind her, a dry hiss like that of a snake spinning the Kushiban around. The crimson, Sith blade sparked against a set of fangs, as the rabbit found herself dancing with a coiled amphistaff that had slipped behind her. At most, her strikes seemed to merely anger the serpent-like biot.

Her attention on the snake, the sound of a lightsaber igniting once again presented the reality that someone had slipped behind her without her noticing them. Stepping off to the side, the Kushiban began to work in a clockwise rotation, so that she was facing both the amphistaff and a figure dressed all in white.

Sith alchemy produced a powerful synth-crystal, but the blade was unstable. The blade radiated a raw, untamed power as it's ghoulish light seemed to paint the boy in shades of blood.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Location : Dinbar,Elrood
Objective : BYOO aka Restore Spaceport
Post : [3?/20]


Infected bodies littered the crumbling spaceport. Piles were growing at an increasing rate. Blaster fire was a regular sound in the distance, only broken by the occasional sound of an explosion. Commander Wyrick seemed to have more control of her troops than the days of of the old Pyre. One could say the old Protectorate was explosion happy.


Judah didn't need his salvageable buildings brought down because a few soldiers wanted to pull the pins on some explosives. A fire had been started and the soldiers on the bottom of the ranks were dragging and tossing the infected in piles.


In other areas, workers were putting up temporary fences to keep any roamers out. Seemed it would be waste to let anything just wander back in the cleared zones.

 

[Zak Dymo]

Post 3 of 20
Objective: BYOO - The Year of Blood, Part 1
Location: Dinbar

Part of assessing any target is an objective analysis of your own strengths and weaknesses.

"This must be my lucky fete!"

Boo wasn't a duelist, and he was barely a swordsman. Every instance of his training by the Sith had reinforced a hit and fade method of survival. Strike when unseen. Escape whenever possible. Do not stand and fight.

"Now I can thank you..."

One on one, the young Pantoran would have already lost. With Azi continually harassing the Kushiban, her attention was split between the boy and the amphistaff that was lashing out on its own. The boy's Shien was passable, but he labored under the flurry of blows that the lightsaber-wielded rabbit unleashed, in bouts of acrobatic skill and finesse far beyond what was humanly capable. The intersection of crimson and blood red blades, and one amphistaff, becoming a deadly dance macabre. Round and round perdition's flame.

"...and kill you..."

A burning pain lanced through the youth's right shoulder, as the Kushiban's crimson shoto passed through his harried defense. Of course, the Kushiban was apt to be becoming desperate.

By now she had to realize that even the near misses from the amphistaff's dripping maw was still leaving trace amounts of venom on her fur. Paralytic neurotoxins that would find themselves absorbed by the hair and skin. Ataru relied on extreme physical exertion. That would open up the pores of her skin, allowing rapid assimilation of the toxins as part of the body's effort at cooling itself.

If he could out last her initial attack, exhaustion and the effects of the venom ought to ensure victory.

"...all at the same time!"

'If' being the operative word.

He'd dropped to a knee before he'd even realized what had happened. His left hand automatically reaching for the wound in his thigh from where she'd clipped his leg. "-tt-" the youth uttered, a click of his tongue betraying the frustration that was feeding into his anger. He was dancing on the razor's edge that was the Dark Side of the Force, trying to maintain control and not lose himself in a maelstrom of emotion.

Still, he was getting his arse kicked by a white rabbit. If that wasn't cause to fall to the Dark Side...

Awkwardly, the boy brought his lightsaber up in a feeble attempt at blocking another strike. As he did, he got a glimpse of two lucky rabbit's feet coming straight up the underside of his chin.

A twelve kilo bunny with Force Jump hit like a bowling ball, straight to the face. Reeling backward, the Pantoran was caught off balance as stars exploded across his vision. There was a moment of vertigo, after which his brain rationalized that he'd fallen from out the open window of the building as he saw a world tumbling around and around.

"-tt-" the boy uttered again, planing out as he oriented himself toward the ground. Extending out his left hand, he allowed himself to plunge over the edge. An intense cold ran through his body, the youngling wincing in spite of himself at the familiar pain of opening himself up to the Dark Side.

The Force rippled outward from his palm. Not the calm, tranquil peace of the Jedi but a raw power that was unrefined. The youth paused in mid-air, just inches from the ground as he halted his descent. Letting go of the Force, the boy collapsed onto his hands and knees. Blood dropped onto the dirt, running in rivets from the fresh wounds -- broken open by the horrendous pressures of the Dark Side on the humanoid body.

The boy's ragged breathing echoed in his own ears, a sound soon replaced by a more familiar tune.

Sirens.

Someone had called the local law enforcement. Snapping his head up, the boy looked up to the sky and saw police speeders approaching. He managed to get to his feet, but grimaced against the pain of setting his weight on his left leg.

So much for 'stand and fight'.

Whistling, the boy stretched out his hand as the amphistaff dropped from the building above. Without sparing a glance up for signs of K'ythri, the boy moved off into the shadows. Run. Hide. The assassin's creed.