World of War (Craft) [SJO Dominion of Cyborrea]

[Silver Starlight]

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Live by these words...​

victory or death.​

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[SIZE=11pt]OBJECTIVE 1[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Gladiators [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]- A small number of Order members awake in small, unfamiliar cells. Each cell is dusty and smells of death, while the faint sounds of a crowd can be heard outside. Suddenly, large doors are opened, pulled up by clanking chains. Outside, the crowd roars as each cell now opens into a large arena.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Strewn across the sandy arena, there are various melee weapons and pieces of primitive armor -- you should grab what you can… Soon, enemies will start coming in waves - whether that be in the form of the native Cyborreans, their quadrupedal pets the Neks, or some other exotic fauna from across the galaxy. There are great battle horns to herald their coming.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Due to a local shaman's “magic”, the Force is nullified within the arena, only leaving the gladiators with their physical prowess and their cunning to survive.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Will you try to work together with your fellow members of the Order, or try to take on these enemies on your own?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]

[/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=11pt]OBJECTIVE 2[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Rescue Team - [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Having located the missing Order members, a small team has quickly arrived on Cyborrea to try and mount a rescue mission. The team must either try to infiltrate the arena, assault it head-on, or find another way inside. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]A target of importance will be the shaman that is nullifying Force powers in the area. There is limited information, but a general whereabouts of the missing Order members is known. Be prepared to face resistence. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]

[/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=11pt]OBJECTIVE 3 [/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]In the Business of War: [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Merchants may wish to visit some of the Cyborrean clans to sell their wares. As a warrior species, they may take very well to some new armor, shields, etc.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]BYOO - [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Feel free to do your own thing![/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=11pt][Opposition for 1 and 2 will be DMed. Everyone that participates will receive a Cyborrean Battle Dog][/SIZE]​

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[SIZE=11pt]

Spoiler

[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Drystan Marakos"] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Asaraa Vaashe"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Yuroic Xeraic"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Reggie Faayare"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Eustachya"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jasper Candos"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Varindar Asyt"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jessica Med-Beq"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ostdern Mastogar"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Cyrus Nova"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Alyisa Mithel"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Josh Dragonsflame"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Gherron Dragonsflame"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Riamah"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tara Creel"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Thalo Molidias[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Zak Dymo[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tyluko Dubykee"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Rick Kaloo"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Samara Raine"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Katarine Ryiah"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Pash Tafo"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kiran Arlos"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Dagos Terrek"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kei Amadis"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Mariya Fleischer"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tom Taff"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Rachel Taff[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kobi Fesser"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Celiana"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Briar Sulvi"] [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jake Daniels"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Cassius Droma"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ayla"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Nida Perl"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Veiere Arenais"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Dusaro Dresari"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Aida Aquila"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Sabine Galen"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Jairdain"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ronak"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Milla Ordo[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Sigyn Vanir"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kahlil Zambrano"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Allya Vi'Dreya"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Tyrell Caphey"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Nesota Kynnovan"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Horus Arseneau"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]@Calithea Taff[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Caedyn Arenais"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Amon Vizsla"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Ador Horn"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Eenia Vahn"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Vattas the Hutt"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Lucera Maive"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kahne Porte"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Mikilanna Mihaly"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Alexandra Porte"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Atasihd Zi"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Eyna"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kenth Typho"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Nita Quez"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Benjamin Cassidy"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt][member="Kal'n Drasco"][/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]

[/SIZE]

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[Zef Halo]

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Dorn Company,
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

When Jedi made a mess, it was up to the Antarian Rangers to clean it. Another day, another rescue mission. Intelligence had reached the Order of the Silver Jedi that a number of Jedi had been somehow captured and put into a free-for-all gladiator arena on Cyborrea. How? It remained a mystery. The bigger issue at hand was the mission was practically a race against time as from what Amon understood the Force seemed to have been 'disabled'.

A Jedi without the Force, to Amon, was a man with an oddly weird taste in bathrobe fashion.

"Lieutenant, one minute till drop." SGT. Sidon reported through the comms and Amon simply gave a nod as he stood first at the door of the gunship ready for the airborne mission.

Dorn Company would be paradropping right on top of the alleged location of the kidnapped SJO members. A high altitude-low opening jump which would certainly be driving adrenaline into the rest of the soldiers even before the fighting started.

"Dorn Company, ready check. Signal green if ready." Amon ordered coldly through the comms and soon green colored text of ready would pop on the side of his HUD. "T minuts one till drop."

This would Amon's first airborne mission in the Rangers but not the first one in his life. As an eighteen year old, he participated in an airborne raid with clan Vizsla in the Outer Rim right beside his father against a small, but well fortified Jedi enclave. The Mandalorian lashed out against the memory and focused on the task ahead.

Saving Jedi.

Ironic.

 

[Tulan Kor]

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Dorn Company,
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

​

Tulan gave a thumbs up as the LT went over the pre-jump procedures. Tulan knew the mission was time-sensitive to say the least. Truth be told, that's how he usually operated. He was never in any situation as anything else other than a reactionary element, or a preemptive strike. This wasn't any different, truthfully. Even as a Sith trooper, even as a mercenary, he was doing more or less the same thing most of the time.

Except he doubted the Sith would even lift a finger to help some of their own trapped in this situation. They'd be happy that they were killed, strongest shall rule, yadda yadda, all that jazz.

Tulan checked his rifle- an RS16 rifle, courtesy of the Raider armorers. He liked the slugthrowers- more than he liked blasters. Blasters were great- but his two biggest gripes were reliability and noise. No way to suppress that beast. Verpine weapons came in second favorite, but their lack of penetration power made him shy away from it. Slugthrowers were the perfect balance to him.

Plus-

It was a pretty friggin' cool lookin' gun.

He didn't think the Jedi even had more than an hour or two before all the flips and lightning and whatever else they couldn't normally do would catch up with them, and they'd end up as fertilizer for these sick bastard's gardens. Whoever, exactly, the sick bastards were, in question, really. At any rate, Tulan was going to jump in with the team, shoot a bunch of people in the face, get the Space Wizards home, and then do a bunch of weird drugs at the end of the day.

[member="Amon Vizsla"] l @Rangers

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Dorn Company,
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

 

[Sabine Galen]

Objective 1: Gladiators!

Sabine woke with a start. The side of her face pressed heavily against... dirt? She pushed up quickly, so fast that it made her head throb. Her mind tried to work through the massive headache, the questions somehow managed to filter in.

Where was she?
How did she get here?
Where was her saber?

Unfortunately for Sabine, the answers remained hidden. She blinked, as her eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings, she realized that she was confined in a small cell. There was some lingering stench, she held a hand up in an attempt to guard her nose. And, as she moved, her bare foot knocked up against something... a rather large bone.

She shrank away from it, and the larger form of what appeared to be a carcass of some kind. Chains rattled, the bars of her small door began to shake. Slowly, she crawled over just as the bars were pulled away. She peeked her head out, and her eyes grew wide.

This was... a proper arena.

The seats were full, overflowing, with very large beings. The audience began to roar, and Sabine even found some rotten food thrown her way, but she ducked her head back inside. Her breaths were shallow and short. Though she'd only gotten a brief look, she could have sworn she'd seen rusty blades and some dull armor strewn out in the open sand of the arena.

And, horns began to sound.

“This is bad...” She whispered, still gathering herself. “Very bad.”

Outside, the crowd began to chant – some foreign language she couldn't quite place. Their hands and feet accompanied the voices, the cacophony only seemed to grow. Sabine knew that she had to make a choice here, stay inside the cramped cell... or take her changes out in the open. She peeked out again, her eyes on a primitive sword that was stuck in the sand.

 

[Thirdas Heavenshield]

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Dorn Company,
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

There was an odd mix of emotions raging inside Thirdas even as the LT gave his briefing prior to takeoff. This was his first ever military operation, no training wheels or anyone to hold his hand. Exhiliration mixed with anticipation mixed with fear had his legs shaking upon entering the dropship, rapidly drumming up and down while he attempted to collect himself. He'd spent the last year preparing for this, and his greatest fear was letting anyone down with his performance in the field. Now as the dropship brought them to their jumping-off point, all he could think of was his mother and father back home.

His forehead rested against the long barrel of his mother's sniper rifle as beads of sweat formed around his temples before running down his cheek and jawline, only disturbed by [member="Amon Vizsla"] giving the order to ready up for the drop. Signalling the LT that he was indeed ready, he could feel the adrenaline pumping as the point of no return was nigh and he took a deep breath.

Standing up he checked his gear one last time, pulling double duty with sniper rifle on his back and blaster rifle on his chest, along with sidearm, combat knife, grenades... It was a lot of gear to haul around, but they did not slow him down thanks to his immense physical strength passed down from his father. Every Ranger was a rifleman, even specialists such as himself.

The Lieutenant stood close by, and before the operation would be truly on its way Thirdas offered a military salute, finding confidence in the presence of his CO.

[member="Tulan Kor"] | Rangers​

 

[Cassius Droma]

Cassius Droma was pulled through the halls of the arena, paraded past spectators as if he were some sort of animal at a circus. His hair was matted and tussled, with war paint streaked across different parts of his body. He had on a smattering of armor that covered his shoulders and midsection, but left him bare in most parts – it was all he could find on the battlefield that managed to fit his small frame in comparison to the Cyborreans.

He yanked on the chains that held his wrists in place, but the Cyborrean leading him didn’t budge. For his defiance, another guard zapped him in the side with an electro-staff, causing the young Jedi cry out in pain and his knees to buckle for a moment. Managing to stand back up to full height, he was led back into his cell which adjoined the arena. The chains on his wrists were secured to the ceiling above, causing him to raise his arms.

It had been like this for a few days. When he’d first arrived, Cassius had woken up in his cell adjacent to the arena, with hardly anything but an undershirt and pants on. Before he knew what was happening, the gates had opened, and he was thrust into the life of a gladiator. Despite his numerous attempts to escape, he was only met with whippings and electric punishment. His ability to use the Force was also nullified here – these people were clearly experienced in holding on to their captives.

Even without his connection to the Force, Cassius relied on his Jedi combat training to survive, as well as his intelligence and instinct. Due to this, he’d managed to escape most matches without injury, but he could feel that he was only inching closer and closer to death. The crowds were always thirsty for more blood, so the stakes had to be continually raised. From what he could gather, a whole new crop of contenders had been captured and would be released into the arena for a beast match. Cassius hoped that these would perhaps be potential allies, ones that could help in an escape attempt.

Like every day before, the gate slowly clinked open, and Cassius’s wrists were remotely released from their shackles. Stepping out into the area with improvised boots, Cassius immediately found one of his weapons of choice – a spiked mace. Picking it up, he swung it a few times to get used to the weight. It already had bits of flesh and bone speckled about it.

Looking around, he hoped to get a look at who the other gladiators were before the beasts were unleashed upon them.

[member="Sabine Galen"]

 

[Kat Decoria]

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Objective 1: Find a way out!
Allies: [member="Sabine Galen"]

There was a massive headache, Kat opened her eyes to bright lights and being in a cage. At first, Kat just assumed that she had another wild night of drinking. However, she was slightly confused, she was pretty sure that she wasn't drinking last night but Kat had all the symptoms of a big hangover. She decided to check out her surroundings, looking over the cell she saw some others in similar cages to her own and several loud voices from outside. Kat paused, slightly nervous about this situation, the chanting seemed to be about fighting or war. It seemed that they were trapped, Kat attempted to draw on her Force powers but nothing. Blinking, she attempted to draw on the Force again, nothing. Sighing, Kat realised that they were trapped without the Force, meaning that she could not escape as easily as she planned.

Entering the arena, Kat looked around, sighing as she picked up a weapon. Twirling the staff in her hands as she looked around the arena. People in the stands, yelling and booing them. Seemed that things were not as simple as a rough night of drinking, this was an event that the Cyborrean people wanted to organise using the SJO folk as gladiators. This was frustrating, Kat roared in anger at the crowd as she gripped the staff. She was ready to fight them all and kill them all. She did not like being a prisoner.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Objective 3: Business of War

Mortars: the main weapons the Silvers used in ground warfare that nobody else wanted to use. Suppressive fire the Sith and Mandos began to use more as of late, but still pretty limited in use. Mortar use may well be situational, when one wanted to use indirect fire while sensors are jammed, with the understanding that hardened targets typically called for higher calibers. The Silvers would probably be amenable to selling mortars, man-portable AA, machineguns and their ammunition to the Cyborreans if that's what they needed to be in good terms with the Silvers, and have assurances that racial issues won't be an impediment in Silver military service. For that end, Jessica flew in a Neimoidian Yacht with all five mortar sizes, but only one mortar crew big enough to man the 220mm version. And probably two of them would be able to fire a machinegun also. Or a Furutaka/Chalacta: just because these two products looked the same, the armor-piercing stuff served different roles to infantry: one was a SAW, the other a sniper rifle. Else she would have to wield that stuff herself for test-firing in front of them.

 

[Allura Kahli]

GHOST COMPANY
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

"We get in and neutralize whoever or whatever is suppressing Force abilities. We take them alive if possible, but I won't lose any sleep if it isn't." Captain Allura Kahli stood in the drop bay of a black metal ship that swept in along a similar path as Dorn Company. "If we get them alive, you know where the extraction point is." Not that they were competing with anyone else in the Silver Jedi. Simple matter was 'Intelligence' would want first crack at whoever or whatever was responsible. That was always better done without paperwork and oversight. Grab and smash.

When the call came back they were nearing drop, Kahli nodded slightly. "Positions," she snapped. If the men and women with her didn't know how to drop by this point they deserved to find a new existence as a smear on the ground. Their job wasn't forgiving. Anyone that had doubts or questions should have spoken up far, far earlier.

"Open a point to point with Lieutenant Vizsla's ship. Tell them, the Shadow of Yurb is with him." They could chat more on an encrypted frequency below. At that moment, the man was probably getting his own ready to plunge into enemy territory. No time for long chats.

Kahli took her position at the head of the small unit of all-black operators. The doors began sliding apart to reveal the atmosphere outside as it whipped by. A smile began to form on the Umbaran's lips at the sight. Nothing like jumping out of a perfectly good vehicle and rocketing toward the ground to start the day right.

When the ship was in position and the descent clear of unexpected obstruction, the green light was given. The Captain flung herself out the back of the craft without a second thought. Timing was everything, but in their line of work so was the element of surprise and they didn't need to be suspended targets any longer than necessary. Happily, even Vizsla's company had opted for the thin line between life and death approach. It was nice to work as a team wasn't it?

Tag: [member="Amon Vizsla"] | [member="Tulan Kor"] | [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] | @Rangers​

 

[Stardust Solus Skirae]

Her head hurt
That and was wondering how in the feth did she end up in situations like this constantly?
The answer was simple really, star just couldnt stay out of trouble.

Standing from her spot the familiar smell of death wafted to her nose. Huffing out she rolled her shoulders and started put of the gate eyes adjusting quickly to the bright sun. Looking around she saw the crowd around cheering out and looked at the field of primitive weapons and armor strewn about

gotta be kidding me

Looking about she spotted some face, then one she recognize and carefully walked over as she calle dout

oi! Is that you kat?

She picked up a sword along the way, better to arm herself just incase that really wasn't who she thought that was


[member="Kat Decoria"]

 

[Ura Iolar]

[member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] [member="Tulan Kor"] [member="Amon Vizsla"] [member="Allura Kahli"]​

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Behind the Ranger's dropship, a Yurbian Deathseed slowed as much as it could so that it wouldn't overshoot. S-foils were closed and the gyro was locked. This wasn't really a combat mission for the Lervon. She had seen the reports. Anti-Force field. Some sort of magic or tech. Something the sand-like Ura honestly feared. She was more worried about her fellow Jedi though.

The Padawan looked down at the arena, or at least where it should've been. She couldn't see where the mission was, but that was kinda the point. She looked down, speeding up to a bit before opening comms to the Rangers.

"Rangers, this is Ura. I may not be able to help you directly, but I can still do something. During your jump, I'm going to make a circle around the arena with the Razor-Tail Tiger. Engines cut off. If this is like most anti-Force objects, it'll be spherical, and I can send you a rough epicenter."

 

[Kahne Porte]

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Objective 1-Survive

The echoing sound of rumbling and what sounded like war shouts awoke the Jedi Master. A soft groan could be heard from Kahne as he opened his eyes and looked up towards the sky. Just it wasn't a sky, but a cell. Kahne moved to sit up quickly but then stopped as if by some invisible force as he let out another groan. His brain felt like it was twisted and hurt. The Jedi raised his hand towards his head and there was some fresh blood on the side of his head. He didn't know how he got here, but he hoped he was at least the only one. Stripped down with no weapons and just in his robes.

Kahne fully sat up as the gates and his cell opened up, it was here that the roar from outside could be heard more at this point. The Jedi rose to his feet as he was ushered out the gates and into arena. Kicking up dirt with the first few steps that he took still trying to gather his bearings. There were others in the arena, but Kahne was unsure on who they were. Some of them seemed to know each other, which was a good thing. Or at least he though. He made a mental note that the force was not an option here, there was some sort of force barrier preventing such thing.

It didn't but just a few seconds for Kahne to gather what was about to happen before he reached down and picked up a small shield and a sword that were next to him. Ready for anything that came at him.

 

[Audren Sykes]

Objective 1: Fight
Allies: [member="Sabine Galen"] | [member="Kat Decoria"] | [member="Cassius Droma"] | [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] | [member="Kahne Porte"]


The first thing that came to his senses upon awakening was the smell. Actually, that was putting it too nicely: it smelled like someone had distilled whatever it was down to the essence, stuck it in a syringe, and sprayed it in his nose. It was an unpleasant start to his day, exacerbated by the dull ache on the back of his head. And on top of that, the light stabbed at his eyes as he opened them. A few blinks settled that down at least, and thus allowed him to lever himself to a sitting position.

A couple more seconds and Audren's critical faculties began coming online. He was in a fairly small cell hewn from the rock. It was only dimly lit, but there was enough light to tell that nobody was in here with him, despite the stench of death. The pounding on the side of his head was from a knot there, sensitive to the touch but not bleeding. Well, that and the rhythmic cheering outside the cell. With a muted groan, the Sephi shifted from a sitting to a kneeling position. It took more effort than it should have, and while doing so he noticed that the only clothing he wore was a pair of pants and the tie holding back some of his hair. At least they'd left those.

Though he didn't operate full time as a Jedi, he was still a Master. He reached out to the Force to loosen his muscles, to ease the headache. But the Force didn't respond. He gave a little huff of annoyance and focused, shifting the pain away. He'd deal with it later. Fortunately this particular trick had nothing to do with the Force. When the cell door opened, he was ready enough. The pistol he faced made resistance a rather dangerous prospect however, so he stood peaceably and followed the instructions to walk into a short tunnel and out the main door.

He wasn't the only one there. Five others could be seen, all of whom he recognized but none he could put a name to offhand. His fault no doubt, for all the time he was spending away from the Order. Four of the five had already grabbed weapons, and as he watched the fifth pulled a sword and shield from the ground. Hoping that their captors did not intend for the captives to fight each other, Audren followed suit. From the sand a meter and a half to his right he pulled a glaive. Wonder of wonders, the blade was sharp and the weapon appeared to be in good condition, though heavier than he would have expected. A high-grav world maybe? If that was the case he'd need to adjust, and quickly.

 

[Telsiis Kovvess]

Cloaked in total darkness, her shape was undefinable. Not a single proton could penetrate the thick stone walls which surrounded her - the sounds of shouting, cries of terror or pain, the roar of the crowd were even lost. The fortress had many halls... many used, dark, and sanctified places where the Force lay dormant.​

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Still, there was sand... Everywhere... ​

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And if there was one thing Darth Kali hated most, it was sand. ​

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Resting in the darkness, her senses expanded - filling the room, then passing beyond the heavy stone walls to the crowds beyond... to feel every death in the arena, and the elation which followed... to the Gammorean Guards, and their simple thoughts of basic needs... to the entire planetoid... and into the stars beyond. The Force spoke to her in waves; gradual, repetitive, and strong enough to channel itself through her gaze. Though Darth Kali's eyes were closed, she was not blind.​

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And so she felt the newcomers arrive... the Jedi, captured & delivered here as a trial by combat - a joyous celebration of death. In truth, the Witch had little care for such idle chatter... for the Jedi were nothing to her.​

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"Let the masses feast on blood..." She'd said, dismissing the Cyborrean who claimed mastery & ownership of the land they stood upon. "I have more pressing matters." And she'd left the gathering to their squabbles.​

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And so, deep within the Force & cloaked in darkness, the Nightsister delved deeply into the Force, roaming Cyborrea as a thread of conciousness - searching. Hunting. And then, there arose a great tremor in the Force... and the rescue party arrived.​

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Long before the dropships arrived, the Nightsister had made her preparations: sigils of power, drawn in the blood of an animal, decorated some of the stone walls within the fortress, and lines of red dirt had been drawn across doorways. Spells had been cast, drawing the Force away from these dark & lonely places, robbing the Jedi of their senses throughout entire sections of the fortress & areas near the arena.​

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So many delays, the Nightsister cursed. Once the invaders were dealt with, she'd finally find the cave. She'd drawn in her sense of the Force, drawing the Dark Side around her body like a comforting blanket... and then fading from a Jedi's ability to feel her presence. Now, the witch waited, inwardly seething but outwardly calm.​

 

[WolfMortum]

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Dorn Company,​

Task Force Raider.​

Operation: Sparticus.​

​

​

​

"Dorn Company, ready check. Signal green if ready. T minuts one till drop".​

​

It was Benjamin's first assignment alongside the rest of the boy-scouts working for the Order of the Silver Jedi, something he quietly called them in order to cushion the hit to his pride for working alongside the law. It wasn't a place he had expected to find himself falling in with, yet they weren't a bad lot at all when it came down to the punch. Between [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] and [member="Allura Kahli"], first impressions hadn't been so bad, and he'd been given the rundown of the base on Kashyyyk, left to find his place over-time (he was still working on it - especially this "following orders" business).

One at a time, he pulled his Peace-Makers from their holsters, exposing the chamber and loading six rounds into each of the revolvers. Soon followed by the additional chambers in which he could quickly exchange for a faster reload. Hollow points were the chosen ammunition type for this assignment, or at-least for the first while. Their objective was the rescue of Jedi personnel, and it sounded as though capturing Jedi wasn't quite the easy feat; cracking a few skulls seemed only fitting if not for the need of armor piercing rounds, which he carried on his belt and bandoleer strapped across his chest from shoulder to under-arm. Slung over his right shoulder however was his primary rifle, a sturdy semi-automatic rifle with the added stopping power of a twelve gauge under-barrel attachment. Benjamin's personal handy work which often resulted in a bloody mess up close and personal.

Unlike his peers, Benjamin's armor was far lighter and worn beneath his leather duster, a long collared coat that draped around him. As an added precaution, he'd stashed a reliable combat knife at the back of his belt hidden beneath the long baggy duster. Going in dressed like a personal tank wasn't his style, nor was a helmet for that matter, instead replaced with his signature brimmed hat.

Looking to the leading man of the group, Benjamin gave the okay with a gesture of his thumb and index finger in the shape of an "O". No point mincing words before a good dust-off. Tensions were high and they were all anticipating a fight heading down. Despite his casual and often care-free attitude, Cassidy wasn't so careless as to underestimate those he'd likely find throwing slugs back at him.

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[member="Amon Vizsla"] [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"] [member="Allura Kahli"] [member="Ura Iolar"] [member="Tulan Kor"]​

 

[Tyrell Caphey]

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GHOST COMPANY
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS

Spoiler

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rpIpPXaF8So[/youtube]

The last minute systems check flashed green one after another on the HUD of t-visor helmet. Holding onto a railing in the roof of the dropship, they all listened attentively to captain Kahli's finishing speech. A little less fancy and technical than the briefing, she laid out their main objective - clear and simple for any grunt that, against supposition, might have had the slightest doubt what it was.

His old trusted ''famos mark II'' were tightly strapped against the black chestplate with the muzzle down to keep it from disrupting the jump. He tugged once at the ranger field pistol, making sure it sat firmly locked in the leg holster. The doors began to open and the noise of the wind and the engines of the dropship filled the bay.

Everyone knew it was too late for questions, and Ty knew there wasn't any from his own squad. It felt good inside the tarisian to be back in the action again after some time on leave, and after days of training and preparing back at the Silver Rest, he felt more ready than ever.

With a short summoning handsign to his squad, they were next out to jump out of the dropship, just behind the captain. A long free fall for their jedi comrades took its beginning.

[member="Allura Kahli"], [member="Amon Vizsla"], [member="Thirdas Heavenshield"], [member="Tulan Kor"], [member="Ura Iolar"]

 

[Ladybug]

​

Helios Company
TASK FORCE RAIDER
OPERATION: SPARTACUS



With all the training she endured under the watchful eyes of the Jedi instructors, she expected these minute flutters in her stomach would have subsided by now. Unfavorably, they had not. The drop zone was growing closer, she knew this without brushing a glance out the viewport, but through the overpowering sense of anticipation the other's where exhibiting. The Force, a special gift bestowed upon individuals with the granted ability to command it, was a fantastic entity the young Padawan enjoyed; however it was her inability to take these flooding waves of emotions and filter them into smooth, calm waters that stirred the rumbling further in her mid-region.

"You'll do fine, Padawan," came the voice of the lead operative assigned to the same company as she that proceeded the comforting pat upon her shoulder. The woman, tall and muscular fit, flashed a small smile before continuing. "Hold fast to your Jedi training and stick close to the squad. And remember." Pausing for a fleeting second to extend a lone finger in the air to emphasis her point, the operative added, "Don't be a hero."

The Felcat nodded as she replied, "Yes, ma'am." Without another spoken word, the operative took her leave inspecting the rest of the team. Mikilanna wrapped her hand tight, but not to tight, around the newly constructed lightsaber fabricated for her by a Master, a loner for the mission. As her thoughts turned to the one day she would construct her own, the words of the Code began to flow through her; setting her mind, body, and soul at ease, chasing away the fluttering annoyances.

Slowly, she began to open her eyes while her ears were harmoniously treated to a chorus of singing from the band of operatives. The beat was contagious, infecting her right foot to tap in rhythm. What ensued next even surprised her. She, too, began to sing along with the others; finding both the lyrics and meaning of the tune delightful. During the singing and increasing feet tapping from the entire dropship's occupants; nobody noticed the red light switch to green; except the lead operative who threw aside the sliding door.

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Objective 3: Business of war

"Greetings, Jedi weapons merchant. I trust you have lightsabers for sale" the Cyborrean procurement officer greeted Jessica upon landing.

"Lightsabers... no. We don't sell lightsabers to prospective allies on a mass-production basis. What we can sell, however, is a variety of exotic heavy weapons"

As much as she would use mortars when the need for indirect fire is present, it's as though most people would rather engage in direct-fire combat. If the Cyborreans instead wanted more "conventional", mobile artillery, such as missile launchers or main battle tanks, all that she could do was to give them some brochures that are put in terms readily understandable by non-artillerists. Hailfire-XI, Adywan, Barataria, that sort of items. Or even the surplus Hwachas if they were comfortable with wheeled propulsion rather than repulsor. And... aircraft! Surely aircraft is not new to the Cyborreans so she could also leave some brochures for the Chiloon-IV, Spirit and other aircraft used in Silver service. Yet, exotic weapons, even Umbaran EM plasma, were more likely to require at least a blank-firing test. For mortars, test-firing typically meant firing smoke or illum shells. She had the mortar crews get the mortars out, with one shell of each variety for each caliber: 60mm, 81mm, 120mm, 160mm and 220mm. Their proving ground was being readied for the huge amounts of smoke these would imply.

 

[Sigyn Vanir]

Objective: 1 Fight and survive
Allies: [member="Sabine Galen"] | [member="Cassius Droma"] | [member="Kat Decoria"] | [member="Stardust Solus Skirae"] | [member="Kahne Porte"] | [member="Audren Sykes"]

Sigyn slowly opened her eyes as she woke on the rough ground. They were half-open and unfocused for a moment, before they shot up, and Sigyn pushed herself up on her hands. This was not her room. She looked around in the small room. Then the smell hit her. Her hand shot up to cover her nose, and mouth to prevent yesterdays dinner from returning. It was the worst thing she had ever smelled. Where the bloody force am I? she thought. Nothing about this place was familiar.

How did I end up here? She tried to think back to what she last could remember. Alright, I remember training with my master, but how can that have led up to this? That was the only thing she could remember from before she woke up.

She got up on her feet, and looked out the barred door. The sun stung her eyes, and it was hard to see anything. She tried to reach out to the force, and use it to push the door away, but nothing happened. She pulled her hand backwards and shot it forwards while focusing again. Nothing. Have the force abandoned me?! she thought in a panicked state. Her breathing quickened, and she felt herself begin to sweat. Then the door opened up.

Sigyn looked out, but before she could see anything, she heard thousand voices roar as one. This was an arena. Her eyes adjusted fast when she walked out, and she saw many others walk out of similar cells as hers. She was one of the gladiators. Luckily, many weapons were scattered around the arena. And a spear, Sigyn's favourite weapon, caught her eye not too far away. She ran over to claim it before anyone else could do it.

As she grabbed her spear, the realization that the force was useless came over her again. Her hands got sweaty as she held the spear. Do not panic, Vanir, she thought, and closed her eyes. You lived 17 years without even knowing about the force. You have been trained to fight with only your instincts and knowledge. You ventured around in the dangerous mountains on Midvinter when you were ten. You can do this, with or without the force. She opened her eyes again, and heard the blowing of horns.

She took a tighter grip on the spear. Things were about to get bloody. Forget your jedi training. Here, it is kill or be killed. She looked around the arena pnce more. But this time, she thought she could see a familiar face. One she would be very glad if it was who she thought it was. The face of her master, Sabine, or someone who looked exactly like her, was sticking out of a cell. Sigyn was too happy to consider the risks, and began running towards that cell.

 

[Sabine Galen]

Objective 1: Gladiators!

Steeling her nerves, Sabine rushed forward to grab the sword that she'd had her eyes on. She pulled the heavy blade from the sand, the weight of it nearly throwing her off balance. Well, this was certainly not going to work well. But, it was all she had until she was able to snatch up something else. Her head turned, only then noticing that others were now emerging from their own cells.

Far at the opposite end of the arena, she squinted. Sabine reached out with the force to get a better idea but...

Nothing happened.

She drew a deep breath, an attempt to keep the panic at bay. Sabine felt strangely alone, a feeling that she wished she could simply shed and move on. But, there was something odd in the air here, something almost tangible – oppressive.

Were these others friends or foes? There was only one way to find out. Sabine, gripping the sword tightly, gingerly approached a man, clad in armor and body paint. As she neared, she drew the blade up cautiously, but not in a threatening manner. And, then she realized that this armored form was... familiar.

“Cassius?” She asked, astonished.

No, it couldn't be. This was not the [member="Cassius Droma"] that she knew. Sabine was used to seeing her friend and fellow knight with a clean-cut appearance, his hair normally so well-coiffed. The horns sounded again, louder this time. Sabine had questions, but there was little time for that.

The audience stood, rowdy and roaring – the whole of the arena seemed to shake. And then, the gates opened again; this time from a large door. Sabine's eyes grew wide.