Vode An

Hansen · Apr 17, 2019

Anaxes, a world characterised by lush forests and mountains had long been a home to a proud Naval tradition so powerful and influential are its' military educational facilities that governments across the galaxy pay heed to Anaxes' definition of Warship classes. With the arrival of the Core Imperial Confederation, Anaxes had once again become a centre for the education and training of military personnel and today the "Anaxes War College" renamed "Imperial Navy War College" would host a legacy that stretched all the way back to the Grand Army of the Republic.

The Advanced Reconnaissance Commandos would exist again and just like their ancient predecessors would be instructed in courage, initiative and teamwork by a fabled Mandalorian Warrior worthy of legend; Vilaz of clan Munin. Those placed into Munin's charge would become ARC-Certified or live with the shame of having failed his tests.

Rays of morning's light hadn't risen over Anaxes when the Soldiers and Stormtrooper enrolled into the course were due to meet their instructor inside a massive simulation cube wearing their armour and carrying no weapons within the academy's grounds. What they would be doing was any of the students' guess with only Vilaz knowing what he would be teaching the mixture of Fett Clones and Human Adult Volunteers, what they could have in common this day is the stripping of their personalisation from battle dress in preparation for their breaking on the anvil of training to be reforged as better, stronger.

Lynda Dorn
Anaxes Surface, Imperial Navy War College.

They'd bleached her armour white, white the colour of some freshly trained eighteen year old grunt who could barely tell their backside from their elbow or even worse; a clone trooper. The thought of being associated with those lab-crown rats made Lynda's stomach tense uncomfortably within her guts she detested them both because of what they represented in cheaply produced Human life and the not entirely irrational fear they could be used to replace volunteer units if necessary or desired by the Army's General Staff.

Captain Dorn wasn't ideologically loyal to the Core Imperial Confederation, her loyalty went as far as the generous Pay Cheque that had been kindly organised in recognition for prior service in the First Imperial Military and the illustrious position she once held as one of it's rightly feared "Death Troopers" a graduate of Project: Revenant and unlike the more humble Daan, Lynda was always thrilled to prodigiously flex her muscles and physique so that she might catch the agape jaws of observers, oh how she loved a crowd. It wasn't unfair to say that Lynda thoroughly enjoyed praise that validated her abilities.

Lynda approached the doors of the simulation cube, they used it for realistic combat and obstacle training she recognised it from her earlier Army training. Pressing an Index finger firmly against the intercom switch. "Instructor Munin, this is Captain Dorn. Mind opening up?" The question is intoned absent respect but with professionalism, Lynda wasn't precisely fond of Mandalorians she viewed them as uncivilized warring savages and did not want to even contemplate the idea Vilaz was a superior warrior. Turning to any other personnel gathered she made a disparaging comment. "What's the bet he's wearing a skirt constructed from twigs clasping a javelin?"

[member="CC-15715"], [member="CC-239"], [member="ST-00/0666"], [member="SC-01/2876"], [member="CT-94194"], [member="Tobias Wrynn"], [member="Vilaz Munin"]

ARC-94194 · Apr 19, 2019

Private First Class CT-94194 - Imperial Stormtrooper Corps

Equipment: Mark/IX "Katarn" Armour (Krennic-Pattern)

Location: Imperial Navy War College, Anaxes

Status: Attending 'ARC' Training

Tython had been a clusterkark for him, to say the least. After he was retrieved, Ninety-Four was stuffed in a bacta tank for about a day while they repaired his armour. Ninety-Seven didn't fair any better, he had been confined to a hospital bed while they repaired whatever damage the thermal imploder did to him. Ninety-Four spent much of his off time by his brother's side, telling him of current events and helping him fill out his after action report. After the battle, both of them had been awarded a couple of medals and promotion to PFC, something that excited them but had a bitter aftertaste.

Ninety-Four couldn't help but think about the others that lost their lives on the section's first deployment, all for a damn medal. To top it all off, the captain that retrieved him had recommended him for the upcoming ARC course on Anaxes, where he was now. Killing a few dozen thugs in the streets of Cessea was one thing, but the chance to become an ARC trooper? Even as he waited outside the simulation cube, a sense of anticipation continually washed over the PFC.

He didn't laugh along with the others present when a captain that he didn't know made a derogatory comment against a man none of them had met before. He didn't respond back with his own snide comment, however, as a captain could easily ruin his career before it began. He just silently bided his time, waiting for another opportunity to prove himself to his makers.

Lannik Hayes · Apr 19, 2019

For the life of him, one Lannik Hayes has no idea why was he – of all people! – were chosen to partake in ARC training. Perhaps it was merely another attempt for his Company Commander to see if this would be the thing that would finally stick, or perhaps the beleaguered male was just too weary of dealing with a slightly insubordinate outsider and decided to make him someone else’s problem for awhile. Whatever it was, the brunet was not one to think deeply into, deciding to go with the flow and make the best of this opportunity to better his skills.

Positivity has got to count for something, right? Right?!

Even if his positivity was in certainty that he was getting the chit kicked out of him before half the day was over.

So, here Lannik stood, at the very far end of the sea of white armour, his brown eyes set on the doors to the simulation cube with a combined sense of dread and anticipation when he caught a series of snickers from up front. Never one to leave things well alone, the male looked over to his neighbour. “Did you catch what they were sniggering about?”

Vilaz Munin · Apr 20, 2019

The Warlord would not be the only one to train these grunts. A handful of his best warriors, men and women that knew the arts of war, would help him to train the Imperial soldiers into elite soldiers. From the description of these selected soldiers, it would be a mix between clones and regular soldiers. And everyone knew who he'd discriminate more. He already knew the clones from Jango Fett would be enhanced more than the average human; increased muscle density, better stamina and lungs, minds built to resist stress and other elements that could affect their morale. Just one flaw was about these clones: they lacked any independent thinking or a personality of their own, something needed in those clones.

The regular conscripts? Each were unique in their own image, but some would shorter or taller than some. Others might have some defects the clones wouldn't have. His warriors of his clan were like that before, but they broke out of their shell to become something more than an average sentient. It took severe training to make them into what they are today. Training that no doubt they mouthed a thousand curses at Vilaz, but something they would be thankful for.

The doors to the simulation cube opened, unveiling no less than fifty Mandalorians in their armor and with no weapons being cradled in their hands. Of course, there were some on their armors.

"Line up, I ain't got your time," he said in a calm, emotionless tone of voice. All fifty of these Mandalorians hid their faces behind their helmets, none wanting to share their appearances to their students.

[member="Lannik Hayes"] | [member="CT-94194"] | [member="Lynda Dorn"]

Mellifluous Magenta · Apr 21, 2019

Private First Class ST-00/0666, “Beast”
Post 1
Equipment: Mk. IX Katarn-Class Battle Armor, Liquid Cable Launcher, DC-17 Hand Blaster, Vibrodagger, White JT-12 Jetpack

She wasn’t sure if she deserved to be special forces.

Imposter syndrome was a real thing, and it was only made worse by the sense that she was hopelessly outmatched by her significantly taller comrades, who carried themselves with far more...erectness than she could ever hope to match, no matter how good her posture was. To exacerbate her sense her dis-belonging, she also didn’t neatly fit into the distinction between clones and adult volunteers. For one, she wasn’t a clone by technicality, though she did share much of their same experiences. Like them, she was grown in a tank and given a serial number as her name. However, she would never be able to look into the eyes of a comrade and see her own face staring back at her. Instead, like the adult volunteers, she was unique and one-of-a-kind. She could fit in with the volunteers on a shallow level, but it wouldn’t take them long for to realize that she wasn’t truly one of them. Her lack of a real name, aside from ‘Beast’ would be evidence enough of that. They would then proceed to judge her as one of them, while carelessly ignoring the technicality between a clone and a biofabricated individual.

Even so, in her experience, she had more in common with Fett clones than she did with most human volunteers. Unfortunately, others like her were still somewhat rare in the Core Imperial Military, so more often than not, she had to choose between two groups which didn’t exactly fit her identity.

0666 merely ignored the passing comment made by a particular female volunteer as she waited inside of the simulation cube. Like the others, her armor had been washed and repainted in the standard off-white color which was typical of a lab-fresh shiny or a clueless volunteer recruit. Her typical airborne helmet with a green-tinted visor had been replaced with the standard Krennic-pattern variant.

The Mandalorians abruptly entered the simulation cube all at once in a large group. It was a forceful and assertive gesture, and it seemed to have the desired effect on the trainees. 0666 quickly lined up with the other white-armor clad ARC cadets and assumed a straight-backed military posture.

There was no telling what would come next.

Hansen · Apr 25, 2019

Lynda Dorn
Anaxes Surface, Imperial Navy War College.
Tags: [member="ST-00/0666"], [member="Vilaz Munin"], [member="Lannik Hayes"], [member="CT-94194"]

Lynda like a hawk took note of each Trooper who didn't find their jest in good humour, half of the Captain admired their discipline and the other half suspected that some of those silent Troops might have been Clones. The Clones were always sombre, serious and humourless bastards who existed for no other purpose than to die in droves so that Citizens didn't have to and though while Lynda still very much held them in low esteem for the nature of their creation. A Certain Clone Officer by the name of "Spear" had garnered Captain Malys' begrudging respect for having saved her life on Tython but this respect didn't extend to his peers, true enough Lynda thought of Spear as an exceptional soldier although she'd never admit that fact openly.

The Simulation Cube doors whined and then parted open inviting the waiting students within, Lynda's stride was confident even confronted with a solid rank of Mandalorian Warriors clad in their distinct ubiquitous armour. It was something of a privileged thing to witness such without the wearers of that armour attempting to kill you and while Lynda like many Imperial Officers possessed a certain level of weariness for those people who adhered to Mandalorian ideology as savages they were savages who knew how to fight and like the rootless Mercenaries they were it didn't surprise Dorn that they would train even Imperial Commandos for an appropriate fee. From what Lynda understood, the man "Vilaz Munin" had been given significant latitude over the course's curriculum and power to review their performance which she found highly distasteful.

It wasn't the prerogative of a student to judge their teacher's competence yet Lynda would do so anyway although wordlessly. "Class, Form-up. Right Marker off Es-Tee, triple-six." Captain Malys nominated the Trooper known as beast with left-hand waiting for the ARC Cadets to form-up into a neat reinforced Platoon-sized formation. There were about as many Mandalorian Warrior trainers for this first class as there were trainees the selection criteria had been extremely stringent. Lynda pivoted in their boots after they all fell into ranks. "Instructor Munin, Class Aurek of Advanced Reconnaissance and War-fighting Course eight-five-six after battle of Yavin. Forty Eight present, no absent without leave, no absent with leave, Sir." Lynda's voice boomed, given strength by a diaphragm that had been toughened and elasticized permitting speech volume and pitch that was far beyond the Human norm and her report was provided with such voracity that not a nook within the simulation cube was spared.

This would be the first and last time during this whole course that Lynda would be permitted authority resembling that her Officer's commission.

Lannik Hayes · May 14, 2019

His neighbour remained silent, but whether the other was the stoic and silent type or it was another case of you’re-an-idiot-and-I’m-going-to-pretend-you-don’t-exist, Lannik couldn’t tell.

Looks like we’ve got a tough audience here, he thought wryly to himself.

But as the doors to the simulation cube began to hiss and part, revealing… a truly intimidating group of Mandalorian waiting within. The brunet look a gander at the tough warriors and their no-nonsense demeanour, and winced inwardly. Okay, I think at least two-thirds of them can curbstomp me before breakfast and think nothing of it. And the remaining one-third looks like they will probably disembowel me if I so much as twitch wrong.

It was definitely not shaping up to be a good start to the day.

Lannik hunched in upon himself to look more unobtrusive and hoped he didn’t catch the undivided attention any of the impassive forms as he followed the instruction that rang through the vast space, purposely placing himself close to the centre, where he would be lost amongst the sea of bone white. While he did not hold any grudge against Mandalorians and held a wary respect for their prowess in battle, the brunet had also heard unpleasant rumours and other hearsays about them. But he supposed that the same can be said for the Imperial Confederation, as well as any other powers in the Galaxy, so he won’t judge too harshly.

As the door of the simulation cube closed with a resounding finality, the brunette could only suck in a deep inhale of recycled air and prepare himself for the torture up ahead.

“Well, this what you get for complaining too much about rote and routine, Hayes,” he chided himself beneath his breath.

Vilaz Munin · May 15, 2019

The warrior observed them, one by one, as they walked in straight lines before falling in ranks. Right off the bat he could tell which were clones and which were regular humans just by their height. They all wore white armor, with no colors or modularity something that soldiers did in order to make their armor reflect on their personality. Something that this program would help the clones develop their own persons, and perhaps enhance the regulars with their own and know who they are as well as their peers. One soldier, a female by its voice, spoke up in a boastful tone. Oh, Vilaz could definitely tell what type of person she was. One that always fashioned herself as a leader, perhaps sharing vices of pride and ego. 
 
All just speculation from the Munin, but he'd tune that down a notch or two. 
 
The man walked towards Lynda, before letting it out on her.

”Who in the hell said you could speak, you fething cherry huh?! Talking high and mighty like you own this place, I bet my shebs that you got a damn smug look on your face full of pride behind that helmet. Well I got news for you; ether change it or I’ll make sure to replace your mouth with an Aqualish’s.”

In fact, he’d be doing her a favor with a sudden backhanded slap with his gauntlet. That should be a lesson for all the other cadets. A lesson that Vilaz would be difficult for them. He planned on pushing them to the brink of wanting to kill him. He’d be surprised if someone didn’t try to use excessive force on him during these next few weeks. At the end, they’d turn out in elite soldiers that was worth every credit the Confederation was throwing at him.

[member="Lynda Dorn"] [member="ST-00/0666"] [member="Lannik Hayes"] [member="CT-94194"]

Vode An

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