Star Wars: A Risen Rebellion [IC/Open]

by **Revlona** » Mon May 13, 2019 5:47 pm

[nation][/nation]"Resistance, Rebellion we shall burn these ideas away."-Emperor Sheev Palpatine

It has been 3 months since he destruction of the second death star, the Galactic Empire is reeling with the death of the Emperor and his Apprentice. The Alliance has not been inactive during this period, seizing several key systems, and putting even more pressure on the empire.

You are anyone you wish to be, from a Rebel Admiral, to the Leader of a New Faction hoping to make a place in the galaxy for yourself.

OOC
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Admiral Gaen Drommel
Aboard the SSD Guardian
Ord Mantell

His fleet, like the stars, was endless. Hundreds of Imperial ships dotted the space above Ord Mantell in a massive series of formations. Dozens of Star Destroyers strutted across the stars in neat V formations escorted by a pair of beautiful allegiance battle cruisers. The escort vessels where uncountable as they numbered well into the hundreds.

But at the center of it all sat the jewel of the 8th sector fleet, the behemoth that was the Super Star Destroyer Guardian. 19,000 Meters long and armed to the teeth with turbo lasers, this beast was nothing to trifle with. And at it's core, gazing out into the wide open abyss at his fleet stood Gaen Drommel, newly promoted Grand Moff of the Bright Jewel sector.

"51 Star Destroyers, 2 allegiance battlecruisers, and hundreds of support ships, the eighth sector fleet" Drommel muttered to himself, he was still silently surprised at what had occurred since the Emperors death, instead of total anarchy as many had expected, a quiet calm had ruled the empire. True, some fleets had split off from the empire to go it alone, but in good time these "Warlords" would be rounded up and put to the sword, and then it would be the Rebellions turn, everyone knew this.

But still, it had caught Drommel off guard, to go from a lowly admiral in command of one ship, all be that ship was the most powerful in the galaxy, to the commander of an entire sector. It even happened in good order, his new forces had assembled for him it perfect order for this little inspection, and soon they would be once more spread out among the sector, and he expected that to go without a hitch as well.

Quite amazing really, he almost dreaded to know who was really in control behind the scenes that created this masterpiece of a New Order.

by **Woods Is Back** » Mon May 13, 2019 6:44 pm

Dak Deakin
The Avalon
Kessel Sector

Dak Deakin woke up, and promptly banged his head of his sleeping quarters' ceiling. He groggily muttered, "blast it", and stood up. He looked around the starships small interior with distaste, and silently cursed himself for not stealing a freighter. He walked over to his Imperial-grade ID-10 Tactical Unit, and gently tapped it, so it would wake up. "We need to get moving." Said Deakin, while strapping into the pilots seat. "Setting course for Kessel. Can you take it from here?" The little droid beeped an affirmative, and began plotting the jump calculations. He then walked back to the sleeping quarters, grabbed an Imperial meal pack, gently poured water over it, so it would 'activate' the meal.

After his meal, a change of clothes, and a routine cleaning of his blaster, he headed back to the cockpit, and eagerly jumped into the pilots seat. "Preparing for final jump." The droid beeped, and he started up the hyperdrive. Within seconds, the dull green/gray clouds of the maelstrom gave away to the beautiful tunnel of hyperspace. "Disengaging hyperdrive, now"

"Well, did you get the stolen spice?" Inquired the head of operation at Kessel, Otto Jirt. "Yes, I did." "Ah, good." "My payment?" Otto handed over a small wooden box engraved with the Empire's logo. "What is this? I want paid with credits, not a trinket collectors prize possession." "If you sell this to the right people, you could make a couple thousand easy." "You better be right about this." With that, Dak left Jirt, boarded the Avalon, and left Kessel.

by **Britanania** » Mon May 13, 2019 6:44 pm

The Empire of the Hand--The Unknown Regions--Three Months Ago

The long dagger shape of the Admonitor cut through the vastness of space as it returned from a routine mission. Or rather, what should have been. It had been several months since Mitth'raw'nuruodo defeated the renegade Grand Admiral Zaarin and the mop-up operations continued as the Chiss Grand Admiral returned to the Unknown Regions. The mapping of the region was of paramount importance to the protection of the Galactic Empire and was the primary reason why Palpatine sent his most valuable servant there.

However, the mood on the bridge was anything but routine. The small patrol ship that hailed and subsequently docked with the Grand Admiral's flagship brought with it disturbing news.

"His Imperial Majesty the Emperor, along with Lord Vader, was killed aboard the Death Star II," the nervous looking young officer reported. "The Imperial Fleet is in disarray."

The lieutenant described how after the destruction of the Super-weapon the commanding officer of the Chimera gave the retreat order, but that is where the information grew fuzzy. Supposedly Blitzer Harrsk took his forces and disappeared.

The Grand Admiral said nothing as the officer reported. It was not the time for words. After some time, however, Thrawn stood and approached the helm, hands clasped behind his back.

"The Rebellion won a significant victory, but it is only a single victory," he said mildly. "They lack the resources and power to seriously challenge the Imperial Navy, but that does not mean the situation is any better for us."

The Chiss paused before turning to his subordinate, Voss Parck.

"The Ssi-ruuvi Imperium continues to make incursions into Chiss space. I'll leave their eradication in your hands." Thrawn then hailed the ship's captain. "Take us closer to Imperial space. We'll need to send a message to Coruscant."

The Grand Admiral sat in his meditation room in the time it took to exist lightspeed. When Captain Dagon Niriz approached, Thrawn's Noghri bodyguard smiled a toothy grin at the officer as he gave his silent permission to allow the human male entrance to his master's chambers. Niritz was among the most loyal of Thrawn's officers, a fact that the Noghri knew well. With a nod to the reptilian alien, Niriz opened the door. Unlike some Imperial officers, Thrawn's meditation chamber was dimly lit and filled with holos of art and statues, a testament the Grand Admiral's philosophy of war. The captain found Thrawn seated, his piercing red eyes nearly shut in meditation. Niriz cleared his throat.

"We are about to exit lightspeed, sir. We have a line to Coruscant."

"Tell Madam Director Ysanne Isard I need up-to-date information on the state of the Galaxy," the Chiss said grimly. "It seems things have changed substantially since we were last in Imperial space." Thrawn paused for a moment before continuing. "Also check with Delta Source informants. I trust that Isard won't provide us with the whole truth."

In a few moments, Niriz returned to confirm the communique went through

"Thank you, Captain. I'll receive her holo in my quarters." Grand Admiral Thrawn stood and slowly made his way to his private chamber. Similar to his meditation chamber, the room was filled with pieces of art and statues. However, many of these artefacts were real, tangible lesson in culture for the Grand Admiral whenever he needed to prepare for an upcoming battle or campaign.

Thrawn stopped in front of a statue dating from just before the end of the Clone Wars. The piece was made in Coruscant. Thrawn smiled before he pressed the console and the static-filled image of Ysanne Isard appeared.

"Madam Director Ysanne Isard," Thrawn began. "It's an honour to hear from you." Despite the politeness of his words, the coldness from which the blue-skinned near human spoke would make most beings shudder. But not Isard. Instead, the Coruscanti smiled.

"Grand Admiral. By now you've no doubt heard of the loss of His Imperial Majesty?"

"I have. A great loss, along with that of Lord Vader. However, we must remain vigilant in defeating the Empire's enemies." Isard replied with a nod.

"Yes, I agree. It is for that reason that I desire your help, Grand Admiral." Thrawn raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? To what can I offer the Director of Imperial Intelligence?"

"The Imperial Ruling Council must be eliminated," she said evenly. "I want a squadron of your Noghri Death Commandos. I am aware that Lord Vader bequeathed them to you before his demise," she said knowingly. Thrawn nodded in concession.

"That is indeed the case. I understand what you're planning, Director. Very well, I shall send a squad to Coruscant post-haste."

"Good. To the Empire," Isard said with a salute before ending the transmission. Thrawn waited in his chamber for a few moments, deep in thought. he Chiss felt that he, and indeed the Galaxy, approached a crossroads. Thrawn could, he knew, let Isard play her little game with the Ruling Council. Thrawn could step aside and see what happened to the Empire, a government he fought for solely because of Palpatine's vision of a unified and powerful government. With the Emperor gone, it was likely that the squabbling bootlickers and politicians would undo all that he worked decades to build. Perhaps he would be better off defending the Empire of the Hand from the threats that he knew were coming.

Thrawn shook his head. No, he knew that his resources were not enough. He could, of course, wait out the storm and take power once all his rivals killed each other, but Thrawn neither sought power nor really wanted it, and of course, if he waited too long that pesky Rebellion could become too large of a threat to overcome simply. Thrawn realised he could neither let Isard ruin everything nor let the Rebellion capitalise on their victory at Endor. The Grand Admiral made his decision, then.

"Get me in touch with Admiral Zsinj," he told the console.

The Admonitor--Two Months Ago

Captain Niriz," the helmsmen announced, "we have now entered the Myrkr system." Dagon Niriz nodded with the grace and poise one would expect from an Imperial Naval Officer. Despite his time-fighting in the Unknown Regions neither Niriz nor his crew lost the precise attention to detail that befitted the best of the Imperial Navy.

One hundred and fifty lightyears ago, the Admonitor left the rest of the 7th Fleet and made its way towards the small, barely inhabited world known as Myrkr. Initially, Niriz was sceptical, but having served with Thrawn for the better part of two decades he knew it didn't mean much to ask questions. Thrawn got results and he would explain things in his own time.

And indeed, he had. Just before the ship exited lightspeed the Chiss brought Niriz into his cabin and explained.

"Myrkr first caught my attention just before the Emperor sent us out into the Unknown Regions," he told the stoic captain. "It's been populated for over 300 years and well within the confines of the Old Republic and yet according to the reports, the Jedi were strictly forbidden from setting foot their. The Jedi were not known for having aversions to planets for religious reasons. No, the reason for this is far more interesting and practical."

Now they were almost there. Niriz relayed his orders to the rest of the bridge.

"Bring us into the atmosphere and send two shuttles down," he ordered. Not long after the dagger-shaped ship entered and sent the shuttles, however, a transmission hailed them. A message from the locals?

"Smugglers, from the sound of it," Niriz decided. After ignoring the first hailing, Niriz opened the channel.

"This is Captain Dagon Niriz of the Star Destroyer Admonitor," the captain replied. "State your purpose."

"Just being friendly," the voice replied. "We see two of your shuttles have landed. Need any assistance?"

"Not particularity," the captain said, his voice growing somewhat impatient. "Just hunting."

"Ah, it's the ysalimiri you're after," came a knowing reply.

Niriz remained quiet for some time. "Such information of Imperial actives is well regulated."

"And expensive, you mean, but I think we can find a happy median. It's quite difficult to remove them from the branches. My men can show you."

"Your generosity will be remembered," Niriz said, relieved. "I'll have the shuttles hail you. Niriz out."

Within the next hour, the two shuttles returned with the strange creatures and gave the engineers a puzzle to transport and nourish the amphibians. Thankfully, it would take them another few days to reach their next destination, and Thrawn expected a solution to be made by then.

Wayland

The Imperial Star Destroyer Admonitor hung ominously over the small world of Wayland. It had taken the capital ship of Grand Admiral Thrawn five days to reach a world that was less than a parsec from its previous location, but the slow speed was a function of necessity. In those five short days, his engineers devised a system of sustaining and transporting the mysterious ysalimiri--the key to this entire expedition.

A single shuttle descended upon Wayland, towards a city near a towering mountain--Mount Tantiss, where, if the information Thrawn received from the Golden Axis was accurate, the solution to his puzzle could be found. Aboard the shuttle was the Grand Admiral himself, Captain Dagon Niriz, and a small group of Thrawn's Noghri bodyguards. More than enough, Thrawn told Niriz, to protect them from whatever they might find. Attached to Thrawn and Niriz was a pipe with a single ysalimir.

The shuttle landed in the centre of the hamlet, and as Thrawn and his party made exit the Grand Admiral could not help but admire the mixture of designs.

"The city has at least three different architectural styles," he remarked. "It's rare to see human along with two different alien species not only together, but mixed about. It remains to be seen what importance this may have on our expedition." The party looked around as the locals cowered behind various buildings and objects, and both tried to gauge the other. Thrawn grabbed a device from his belt and raised it to his lips.

"I seek the Guardian of the Mountain," his voice echoed throughout the square. "Who will take me to him?"

No response. Thrawn lifted the device a second time but before he could speak an arrow shot towards him and struck his side. The arrow fell to the ground, having struck the Grand Admiral's armour beneath his uniform. One of his Noghri aimed his rifle at the attacker and Thrawn sighed.

"This is the consequences for opposing the Empire," he told the people as he lowered his arm. The Noghri fired more than a dozen shots at the building and the entire city watched as it collapsed entirely, taking the assailant with it. Thrawn again lifted his hand with the megaphone.

"I ask again, who will take us to see the Guardian?"

"I will," came a reply from behind them.

The group turned to see an old man, well built with long hair and beard, stark white. His look was that of a king, or perhaps something greater and more terrible. "Offworlders, you destroyed my building." Thrawn looked him over with a knowing look.

"He attacked, and we retaliated," he said with a shrug. "You were its landlord?"

"I rule all in Wayland," the bearded stranger replied. For several tense minutes, Thrawn's party and the old man locked gazes before Thrawn approached.

"I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, Warlord of the Empire. I seek the Guardian." The old man's eyes glistened with a dark purpose. "I will take you to see him."

The man took them into the large opulent palace on the other side of the city square, and inside they descended into the ground towards a crypt. The stranger gestured to the tomb.

"There is the Guardian," he said with a smile and pointed to the candles. "The candles are all who came after seeking him--markers for the dead. I killed them as I killed the Guardian, as I shall kill you!"

Bolts of lightning extended from the old man's hand towards the Imperials but stopped short before disappearing altogether. The man's eyes flew into a rage as he again lifted his hands and again fired bolts of lightning, but again, no effect. One of the Noghri commandos lifted his blaster and fired point-blank into the man's chest, but the blaster stopped midway through the air. The old man smiled and he sent the bolt back into the Noghri, killing him.

One of the other Noghri leapt into the fray, brandishing a large vibroknife, but before he could attack the Noghri stopped, dropped his weapon, and reached for his throat before he suffocated in agony. Thrawn ordered the rest to raise their rifles and fired upon him. He again caught several bolts in midair, but the overwhelming power, and the effect of the ysalimiri, proved too much and after taking considerable damage did he fall. Niriz looked back over at Thrawn, who lifted a hand.

"I will explain," he told the captain. "But first, call in another shuttle to occupy the mountain. Niriz did as he was told before Thrawn went into his reasoning.

"The man who see before you," he said coolly, "is more than likely a clone of Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth." Niriz looked at him in surprise.

"The leader of the Outbound Flight. But how do you know--"

"That he's a clone? Because I was the one who destroyed the Outbound Flight on the Emperor's orders," Thrawn interjected with a slight smile. "He has the same appearance and personality. I assume he was cloned from sample takes before the original left on his ill-fated expedition." Thrawn stared at the corpse and his eyes glowed with memories of that event from almost three decades ago.

"In any event," he said, turning away from the body and back towards the captain. "I suspected the Emperor put a Dark Jedi as the Guardian of this world and that's why we brought the ysalimiri. In other circumstances, I might have tried to reason with the Guardian, but those ancient clones were unstable. The real Master C'baoth was arrogant and powerful. Who knows what his clone was like." Both men looked back at the smoking carcass.

"Regardless," Thrawn said as they started to make their way back to the surface, where the second shuttle landed and a group of Stormtroopers exited. "We now have control over the Mountain. There we will find our prizes..."

The Admonitor--Coruscant--Current Date

With the acquisition of the Mount Tantiss Warehouse, the Empire gained an important advantage over its rivals in two key areas. First and most obviously, twenty thousand Spaarti cloning cylinders were now operational. With the power of the ysalimiri what would normally take a single standard year to produce a clone now took less than a month, and as an added bonus without the dreaded clone madness that plagued those early clones--including the former master of Wayland, Jorrus C'baoth.

Second, and of equal importance to the Grand Admiral, were the schematics for a superior cloaking generator. Thrawn kept those on his person and would deliver them to his engineers personally. He could not risk them falling into enemy hands.

Thrawn left a garrison on Wayland and some of his Noghri commandos for the time being, at least until the clones were ready and armed. All that was left now was to meet with his co-conspirators. Thrawn paid little attention to the back-room-deals and court politics of the past few months, but he was aware that the machinations between him and Zsinj were, for the most part, largely successful. All that mattered now was taking his proper seat in what he could only hope would save the Galaxy from itself.

by **Revlona** » Tue May 14, 2019 5:51 pm

Grand Moff Gaen Drommel
Ord Mantell

He watched as the last squadron of Star Destroyers, formed into a V formation, jumped out of the system. He had decided to spit his fleet up among the Oversector to better combat any raiders or rebels. His ship, The Guardian would stay in Ord Mantell with an escort fleet, something he had sorely lacked just three weeks ago.

To the outside observor Drommel would appear to be gazing out at the stars from his quarters, but if one were to look closer his glazed over eyes showed he was currently in a different time.

It was three weeks before when he had most likely earned his promotion to the Grand Moff.

Three Weeks Before

The red flashing alarms and claxons woke him from his sleep, his military training took over and forced him out of his bed. His uniform hung from his wardrobe door, quickly he shrugged it on and hurried towards the door as his communicator lit up, requesting his immediate attention.

"All hands to general quarters, this is not a drill" called a robotic toneless voice over and over again from the ships intercoms.

Quickly Drommel made his way into the bridge calling out, "I have the command" as he walked in. His second in command, Captain Gastos Niovi stood watching something far into the distance of space.

Walking up beside him Drommel snapped out, "Report"

"Unknown Imperial vessels jumped into the system about ten minutes ago, they have yet to identify themselves or their purpose," Niovi said quickly, gesturing to a holo of the system showing the unknown fleet and its rough size.

"Alert the rest of the defense fleet, order them to form up around the Guardian" He said before turning to a different officer, "Bring the Guardian closer, I want them to know we see them!" he snapped.

"Open comms with that fleet, Order them to halt their movements and identify themselfs or they will be fired upon!" He said once more to Niovi, his hand tightening on his crop as he placed it behind his back.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Rebel Orders

by **Britanania** » Fri May 17, 2019 11:52 am

The Admonitor--Coruscant

The Admonitor and the rest of the 7th fleet linked up near Bogden after Thrawn's expedition to Wayland. All that remained now, as he waited for the production of the first batch of Spaarti clones. 36 hours after the rendezvous, Captain Dagon Niriz entered Thrawn's meditation chamber where he found the Grand Admiral sitting, admiring some piece of alien artwork, with one of the ysalamiri wrapped around his shoulder like some type of pet.

"Sir," the captain began. "We are almost within Coruscanti space. I have sent advance word to Admiral Zsinj informing him of our arrival."

"Thank you, Captain Niriz," Thrawn said. "Any word from Wayland?" Niriz nodded once.

"Yes, it appears that your hypothesis regarding the ysalamiri was correct. With the clones' connexion with the force severed, we've cut the growing process from a full year to 21 standard days, with the absence of clone madness of course."

"Excellent," the Chiss Grand Admiral said as he rose from his seat. He gestured towards the doorway. "In any event, captain, what we found on Wayland is to be considered a grave secret. As soon as the first batch of clones is finished send them back to the Empire of the Hand for training."

Thrawn and Niriz returned to the Admonitor's bridge just as the fleet exited lightspeed. Within a few minutes of the fleet's arrival, the communications officer informed Thrawn that the Defense Fleet hailed them, ordering them to halt their movements. Thrawn asked where the message came from.

"It's coming from the Guardian, sir."

"That's Admiral Drommel's ship," Niriz reminded Thrawn. "Grand Moff Tarkin's protege."

"He hails from Oplovis," Thrawn mused. "Of the Outer Rim. I hear he's quite anthropocentric, as well." Thrawn turned to Niriz.

"Send the following reply: this is Grand Admiral Thrawn of the 7th Imperial Fleet. Warlord Zsinj is expecting my arrival."

by **Revlona** » Fri May 17, 2019 1:12 pm

Admiral Gaen Drommel
Aboard the Guardian
3 Weeks Ago

"Sir, a response from the unknown fleet!" A communications officer snapped out, his eyes immediately returning to the console as Drommel and Niovi turned towards him"

"What does it say?" Drommel said, patiently waiting as the communications officer read the report.

"Grand Admiral Thrawn of the 7th fleet, ordering us to stand aside so he can meet with Grand Admiral Zsinj," The officer said as he read it.

"That blue bastard is still alive?" Drommel muttered to himself, Niovi glancing at him and raising his eyebrow as he did so.

Tightening his crop in his hand, the black leather gloves making a clenching sound as he did so, he looked at the communications officer and said, "Send word to Grand Admiral Zsinj, requesting he confirms this"

He then looked at the communications officer sitting beside the first and said, "Ensign Mactosh alert the 7th fleet that they are to hold their position until this is confirmed"

He turned away from the officers as they went to work and muttered to Niovi, "Captain, the last I heard of Thrawn he was dead, and still an Admiral. If this is true then things might get interesting"

"Yes sir," Niovi said, his face impassive though he was silently agreeing with Drommel.

by **Ormata** » Sat May 18, 2019 5:22 am

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Near Kashyyyk

The orders had been received, a man on the bridge of a long-aged vessel sitting in the Captain’s chair. This was the man of few stories, the man of long overdue vengeance and will; it was fate that dictated that he would be able to unleash a grudge against the Republic nearing the end of his life. It was fate that dictated that he would not be able to see that corrupt and decadent institution fall under his boot, to not see the Confederate flag wave above the Senate building. It was cruel fate, true, but fate enough. He had plied space lanes for over twenty-eight years, destroying shipping, smaller vessels, anything which he had been able to destroy. It had been a pleasure. It had been a privilege.

“Sir?”

It did not take a genius to know who spoke. First Officers were nice things, especially when they had enough experience to be an Admiral themselves. Ena was Neimodian, aged enough as she had been an attache to one of the Lucrehulk-type vessels years before the Clone Wars had ever begun, and it barely showed in anything save for her voice. A pair of data goggles obscured her eyes, something he understood as to have been a modification made in those years before the war. It had proven especially useful when he required one of his droid fighters to be extremely accurate during a battle.

“Yes, Commander?”

“We’re exiting hyperspace soon, sir.”

“Thank you.”

The Confederacy had arrived.

A shuddering movement and suddenly the swirling blue forms about the screens turning into blacks and white specks, salt poured out against a table, and the cautious few vessels of the Rebellion. The Third Fleet was one of four in the whole of the Alliance Fleet and, as the 405th neared closer and closer, he could spot more and more smaller warships. He could spot several of the characteristic Lucrehulk-Class Battleships, their hangars burdened still with swarms of automated fightercraft and boarding vessels. The Recursant-classes were in their formations like always, some of them reworked as to provide quarters and space for organics, but they would always be a pack creature. You couldn’t really change that nature. The others, the Munificents, they were a warm welcome as always. You could count on those to provide the fire support necessary.

“Open a frequency with the Fleet. Broadcast identity codes.”

by **Revlona** » Sat May 18, 2019 6:46 am

Admiral Gial Ackbar
Aboard Home One
Near Kashyyyk

“Inform Admiral Develi that she is to take her squadron and form up on the left of the fleets formation, her force will be used to flank should we engage in a major battle” Ackbar said to a communications officer near him, a bothan, who quickly hurried off to do as told.

Ackbar turned his seat from where was looking at the officer to look out at his fleet. He watched as several ships suddenly appeared in the system, a Providence class cruiser with several other escort ships.

“Sir, the 405th battle group has arrived and have confirmed their identity” Another officer told him.

“Alright, take the Home Oneout of the formation, Inform the 405th that are to form up around us and accompany us to Kashyyyk” ackbar said before turning his attention to getting the ship out of formation.

by **Sudbrazil** » Sun May 19, 2019 6:49 pm

Grand Moff Ardus Kaine
Nexus City, Entralla

Uᴘᴏɴ ʜɪs ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ғᴏʀᴛʀᴇss in the capital of Entralla, Grand Moff Ardus Kaine, governor of Oversector Outer, sat down at his desk for a glass of Corellian whiskey.

Considering the current chaos that consumed the Galaxy, he concluded that it might be among his last.

For his whole life, Ardus Kaine had lived chained to the will of the Empire and its Emperor, that absurdly cunning yet absurdly blind man. He had followed many paths to power, always restrained by encroaching regulations, meddling politics as well as all the hubris that surrounded the Court. And for the past three months, he had lived in uncertainty and doubt as the whole Galaxy had been shaken by the past events.
But no more. No more should he distribute his warships to be wasted by petty Moffs and regional governors. No more should he be thrown aside from his path by the pretentiousness of his colleagues. Henceforth he was free to do as he pleased, free from the nonsensical doctrines espoused by the Empire. Their enforcer, that damned old man who had ousted him from Coruscant had perished upon his throne of arrogance and pride. The remains of his council had been displaced. What was left was a new junta, still disoriented, still filled with many of those arrogant officials, yet capable and willing to take their place under the sun. Their leader, Zsinj, though cunning and deceiving, could still be wooed in such a manner that he would be left alone to his devices. He wagered he could even declare his own empire! What would his father have thought of that?

But of course, he wouldn't. His situation was far too delicate for such pompous shows of force. His ‘allies’,
who would’ve plunged upon his lands to pillage and plunder were he to stand out of line, were still present and lurked around his borders like vultures, yet stood as a mighty bulwark to stop the rebellious rabble. That same rabble had tied down his forces, stretched them thin throughout the Outer Rim, and now hammered them through day and night like a tireless, infernal machine. As he mustered his scraps of might in the New Territories, offering only phyrric victories over the valuable worlds he held, he knew a seat awaited him in Coruscant, yet he had not been summoned to take it. Sooner or later, he would bring himself to sit down at that table, but he has better uses for his time. He motioned his aide, who awaited outside.

"Consult Sienaar on how their TIE Hunter program goes. Once my admirals and generals have arrived, summon them to my office, we shall have much talking to do."

by **Ormata** » Sun May 19, 2019 8:56 pm

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Near Kashyyyk

“Sir, IFF holds.”

One of the droids made it’s report briefly, head turned just so before going back to the instrumentation before it. He could see vessels maneuvering about, one squadron taking up a position along the flank of the whole formation and an MC80’s retro thrusters firing in an array of red. The same droid turned, just as briefly, it’s dull tones like a graveyard bell, fingers still tapping along the console before it.

“Communications incoming. Text only. Enter escort formation with vessel designated Home One, break, accompany vessel designated Home One to Kashyyyk for immediate liberation.”

It turned back to it’s own post., leaving the Admiral and his First to themselves in a relative way. The Confederate squadron participating in the liberation of Kashyyyk; while neither had ever been posted near the system, they both got the irony of it all. The alliance with the lizards in the area had lent them a good bit of hatred from the Wookies and, as far as Volte considered it, for good reason. Slavery was something he did not stand for, not one bit, and it was disgusting that someone on the side of the Confederacy would do it. Of course, that might have given one pause to consider where they stood, but...in that war, there was no good. Both sides committed atrocities. Both sides did bad. Volte could only stand for himself and his own. He looked up at his First, her down at him, and there was some little amusement on her face. A smile started to form on her face, Ena shaking her head slowly.

“Bring us about, enter escort formation with Home One. All hands to General Quarters.”

The response was instant; it had to be. “All hands, General Quarters aye,” came one reply, the droid making the response tapping on several console buttons and the alarm starting-up across the ship. Thrusters lit-up behind the vessel as pilots moved to their posts, readying themselves up for whatever might come. Dozens of cannon turrets started-up, lights on across the cruiser as the turrets trained themselves to ensure everything was operational. Blast plates moved down on the bridge, limited lighting on. The vulture droids activated all throughout the hangar, ready and moving. Of course, among the organics there was some confusion for all. They were getting ready to engage the enemy...how, where, and how many would be the questions they all held. Of course it wasn’t a drill, so it was real.

“Fire Control manned.”

Feet up from the stairs; the Engineering Officer was too old for this shit. The Sullustian’s thick waist stumbled about him as his feet beat into the metal deck, moving fast as he could aft. It helped that he lived farther aft than most in a small little compartment a lot of the officers referred to as a cubbyhole. He didn’t mind it; the thing was a far sight better than what he’d had before. Working on Hutt frigates gave a person a certain aspect to what you can deal with that happens on the daily. It was a blessing not having to worry about crew getting drunk on the job.

“Engineering manned.”

Pilots down to the hangar, a clatter and clash as the organics moved in their suits. A lot of them were the old Confed races, the Neimodians and Quarrens, the Zygerrians and Humans of the outer planets. A lot of them had been with the ship from the start, had trained and worked with one another years before the Clone Wars even got started up, and just a select few had been Rebels embarked when the Freedom’s Call joined in with the Alliance. The squadrons of GAT-12s were armed up first, pilots easy at hand and some even sleeping aboard their craft, the fifteen large bombers revving-up their engines. Afterburners were tested in rapid order, the payloads good and ready. A few of them were still being fitted, droids working to load torpedoes into the internal bays and some even mounting heavy anti-capitals onto the outer spars. A GAT-12 had one purpose and one purpose only; kill everything the enemy might fly.

The next to be armed-up were the Z-95s, two squadrons outfitted to the vessel by the Alliance. Sure, they were slower compared to a good few of the Empire’s ships. Sure, they weren’t as well armed on average as a standard Rebel ship, the T-65s. But that...that was something you used to your advantage, not tried to get away from. Heavy modifications ensured that the fighters, armed with two three-barreled heavy laser cannons and a myriad of missile hardpoints, could destroy even the light patrol craft in just a few runs. Oversized engines gave them the edge in any sort of run-and-gun or, as some had called it, ‘smash-and-dash’. They were energy fighters, pure and simple. The big downside was their lack of shielding due to the modifications and their completely shot maneuvering ability; they were flying bricks, plain and simple. The orange jumpsuits moved in a little herd, skirting their way through the majority of tan droids and blacksuit pilots, before dispersing to their own ships.

The last to arm up were the two Firespray-31s; they were rare as all hell and were obviously modified. Bubble turrets were mounted to each one in two pairs along both the long spar and just under the wings, exterior racks of torpedoes and concussion missiles making themselves plainly known. Their engines had been modified too, the result of this being a steady scream as they started-up and the capacity to outrun even CorSec interceptors. The pilots for those bastards took to them with the careful ease of a practiced professional. They knew their jobs. Them knew them well.

“Hangar manned. Ready to launch. All combat stations, manned and ready.”

Across the 405th Squadron, in fact, the same efforts were being taken. Blast doors between bulkheads closed, locked and ready as organics ran through to their stations. They all knew what was required, what was necessary, how much detail was really needed; the small mistakes would get people killed. The bigger mistakes would destroy the ship. The belly hangars opened-up, fields holding as the X-Wings embarked there readied their engines, thrust roaring-out in the open spaces. The frigates moved into position. All were ready.

“Comms, give me the 405th.”

A pause.

“Communications established.”

“Sailors and marines of the 405th, take heed. This is the Admiral. Above Kashyyyk lays a fleet; the forces there give me no pause in the statement that total, undeniable victory lays at hand. They are weak, fat in their wait, fat in their garrisons. Reports indicate they hold several Star Destroyers in system, as well as a light escort. The Home One accompanies us now to remind these Imperial slaves of the old ways, of the people, of the Freedom’s Call. They may have forgotten of us, of the Confederacy. We have not. They will hear the call of the people, of the discarded, of the weak, the poor, the huddled masses, they will hear this call in our guns, our missiles, our assault on their paltry forces. Strength lies on our side for we are right in this action. Death to the Empire, to the slave masters and servants, death to the fools who lay in our path!”

And with that, the 405th was ready.

by **Britanania** » Sun May 19, 2019 11:24 pm

Grand Admiral Peccati Syn--The ISD-Silooth, over Kashyyyk

The grey-haired human paced around the bridge of his flagship. The Emperor was dead three months now, and the machinations of those on Coruscant were of little concern to the Grand Admiral. Peccati Syn pledged his loyalty to the new regime, of course, but his attentions were now on the Church of the Dark Side. The Nightsister Merili herself, one of the Emperor's chosen, single handily pacified the Wookiees and now led Kashyyyk. All would be well in the Galaxy.

Or so the Grand Admiral thought.

"Sir," a communications officer exclaimed. "We have reports of enemy ships arriving at the far end of the corridor. We have a visual, but sir, I can't really make sense of this."

Syn raised an eyebrow.

"Pull the images from our scouts up."

All around the bridge a gasp of surprise erupted. The enemy fleet appeared to be....a CIS battle squadron. Syn questioned his sanity for a moment before he realised that what he was looking at was a Rebel fleet composed of what he assumed could only be former CIS officers.

"Transmit images to Coruscant," he instructed. "Scramble all fighters for an immediate screen of the fleet, and send word to Admiral Treuten Teradoc requesting reinforcements."

by **Ormata** » Wed May 22, 2019 4:48 am

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Kashyyyk, Kashyyyk System, Mytaranor Sector

“We’re in. Sensors detect two ISDs, two Immobilizers. They’re scrambling fighters.”

Ena leaned-down on the two chairs forward; sure might have seemed relaxed, but damn was there tenseness in the shoulders. She got that way for every single battle, whether it was a freighter to intercept, a light cruiser, an Imperial II-Class, whatever it was she was tense on it. Every battle was something that could be more, regardless of what it was, more because the enemy might be smart, more because some random fuck in a fighter might have a deathwish, more because they might actually get reinforcements during it all. Her back straightened; she didn’t even need to see the consoles in front of her because the goggles. Nodding to herself in some little form, Ena’s mouth went wry.

“Begin comms jamming. Launch Blue and Gold Squadrons, Revenge and Not A Chance to follow suite. Launch Vultures.”

She spoke in a careful tone, a measured tone, a tone that while it didn’t radiate confidence and clarity most certainly radiated a bit off experience. Every battle was uncertain, every single one, though that said the tactics were fairly straightforward. Fairly.

“Begin jamming, aye. Launching Squadrons.”

The Freedom’s Call and her escorts started to launch, Z-95s out and taking up their formations alongside the cruiser while the X-Wings locked S-Foils. The Vultures had a more disorderly pattern, fighters clustered in twos, threes, and fours as the more advanced droids began to take over control and command methods. Some of them had been equipped with heuristic learning systems early-on; as aces with a minimum of forty kills under their belts, these were the fighters considered to be the cream of the crop, the best. They acted as squadron leaders in a way, forgoing the normal direct control a cruiser might have. Some hundred and forty droids, twenty Z-95s, eighty X-Wings were launched, scrambled out in less than a minute’s time as the Freedom’s Call powered on, engines lighting up the path behind her.

Volte leaned-in, fingers intertwined. He could see the enemy TIE/ln squadrons in their distinctive victor formations, the Star Destroyers and Immobilizer-418s. It was a fleet, that was for certain, though not at all the sort of thing he’d consider to be extensive. Kashyyyk was a plantation world, put simply, a manual labor place that derived worth from a population exploited for centuries. It was by no means free under the Republic and was definitely by no means free under the Empire...but even then, the Imperial fleet wasn’t massive. It wasn’t the sort of thing he expected. A few Procursator-Class, a few Imperial-II frigates, a squadron of Tartan-Class Corvettes, that was the expectation. There’d been a small expectation that the call for reinforcements might have to be made or that a reliance on starfighters would have to be done...they were definitely screaming for reinforcements. Definitely.

“Emergency power to shields. Open fire with the main battery, escorts to do same; concentrate fire on the Imperial II. Order Imminent and Agency to launch a spread of concussion missiles on that Imperial II. All units, begin radar jamming.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The ship’s frame immediately shook, long lances of red turbolaser fire speeding to the enemy formations and, specifically, their main capital ship. Two of the frigates performed their launch, four missiles streaking-out from their launch tubes to that very same target. Of course, the Immobilizer-418s could potentially start-up their gravity generators in order to attempt to alter the courses of the missiles, but that was an idiot move for an idiot child. It would leave them defenseless and dead, without shields or cannon, something that Volte found quite appetizing. A ragged hand delved into one of his pockets, drawing out a little plasti pack. A tap against the hand, one, two times. They kept streaking, red hands reaching out to meet the Imperial forces. A thumb opened-up the pack, another tap. Volte watched, watched and watched as he brought the little wrapped tube of tobacco and bacta up to his mouth. Another hand rummaged-about the pockets as he considered it in entirety. Yes...yes he really would rather the Immobilizer-418s had their gravity well generators up.

He’d rather they would be exposed, but...in all reality, the vessels were useless to begin with. Their armament did not warrant significant attention, their fighter compliments were barely worth the attention of his own...it was, altogether, simply an issue of trapping them significantly. They held around 200 fighters, probably...probably. Altogether not that bad.

A light as the turbolaser fire smashed into ISD shields, sensor jamming still going on.

by **Britanania** » Wed May 22, 2019 6:30 pm

Grand Admiral Peccati Syn--The ISD-Silooth, over Kashyyyk

"Sir, the enemy is jamming our comms," the communications officer announced as soon as the Rebel forces came closer. Syn nodded. It was the expected strategy, after all, and Syn would have been concerned if they weren't jamming.

"We'll use our landing craft to transmit orders," he said with an air of confidence. "And of course commence counter-jamming." The Grand Admiral turned to the dark-haired female human. The Prophetess Merili looked woefully out of place on the well-ordered bridge, but she was an acolyte of Emperor Palpatine himself and n adept Dark Side user in her own right. It was said she could even perceive the future, something Syn himself believed.

"My Lady," he began, "You have pacified the Wookiees, and I have heard it whispered His Majesty could bend the minds of our forces."

"It is as you say," the half-insane woman spoke. "To protect my Kingdom, it can be done." TheDathomiri took a seat at the Grand Admiral's throne-like chair and entered into her battle meditation trance, influencing the minds and abilities of every being in the Imperial fleet, and sending a wave of fear into the enemy forces. Syn gave a subtle nod and turned his attention back to the battle at hand. Within a minute of his own forces scrambling, the enemy launched their own fighters.

"Maintain our screen," Syn ordered. "Move our Immobilizers directly behind the Silooth and Tuk'ata ."

"Sir, enemy missiles are on their way!"

"Direct power to our shields," Syn replied calmly. "Ready our point defence system, and get a craft to the Tuk'ata and return fire with its ion cannons."

The crew of the Silooth braced for impact as the concussion missiles neared. Gunners fired at as many of the missiles as they could before the remaining missiles smashed into the ISD's shields. Once the missiles hit their targets, the gunners of the Silooth and Tuk'ata aimed their cannons and opened fired on the nearest Rebel capital ships.

by **Ormata** » Fri May 24, 2019 6:52 am

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Kashyyyk, Kashyyyk System, Mytaranor Sector

“Enemy vessels returning fire,” came the report from one of the droid technicians at station, just as the jolts impacted the shields. A clatter and clank, as though one had decided to take their ship through the asteroid field, rushed through the bridge space, Ena bracing herself once again on the chairs before her for stability, Volte holding onto his Captain’s Chair with one hand. The man’s mouth went wry; why yes, yes they were returning fire and doubtless with far more an effective result than Volte’s. An Imperial Star Destroyer was deficient in many areas, from it’s fields of fire to it’s exposed points to the remarkable lack of point defense systems, but one thing they most certainly did not lack was the ability to engage a large combatant at range and destroy them. They were ships of the line, battleships, and if he played the game to their strengths...that was worse than not playing the game at all.

“Shield strength reduced by six percent.”

That was their first barrage; he’d be lying if he said that didn’t concern the Anzati. Dropping by that much, especially when one’s forces had not yet actually engaged the enemy, that was giving the advantage to them. That was a surrender of strength, a gift given freely and without thought, and that sort of thing angered him. They would play his game, not he theirs.

“Transfer power from nonessential sections to shields. Launch…”

A wave of fear, a sudden flash in the night of a man’s mind, exploded in Volte’s mind; one could compare it to the chill of ocean water suddenly against the torso, the deep-seated feeling that came from a realization that something wrong, terribly wrong, was at foot. It was blind, without reason, and Volte inhaled sharply. Ena’s stance said that she felt it, too, felt that same unreasoning, uncommon wave of fear through her. Her stance was sharp, without any sort of relaxation, any sense of quiet confidence, and a strange shiver had taken to her shoulders. She’d felt it too; that thought echoed throughout Volte’s mind, there. He knew what it was. He definitely knew what it was. He’d felt that same fear, that same grip of panic and confusion, during the Clone Wars. The explanation was simple...a Force Witch accompanied the devils.

Damn them.

“Give me the fleet. Now!” Volte yelled, something uncommon for the man in his services. One never did seem to yell to droids and yet the man felt he had to. Embrace the anger and rage to guard against the fear and panic, that was a psychological tool the Admiral understood well enough. They would burn the Imperials where they sat, where they stood, burn them all to the ground and dance among the ashes and…

“Comms active, Admiral.”

“Fleet! Reclamation is upon us! The enemy hold a Witch of the Force among their ranks, a parlor trick magician! We have killed many of their kind before, many. They are no different! Death to the Empire, to the Sith, to the cowards who have surrendered before them! End transmission!”

Volte stood back up, the shields before the Freedom’s Call still flashing with the impacts. Of course he couldn’t see such things, but one definitely felt the shots throughout the ship. The frame and deck shook with each punch, shook with enough power and strength to worry you more than enough. It felt like a giant stood over, stood there and just continued to rain down punches against your bulwark, felt like that bulwark was unlikely to hold and unlikely to keep you safe. Yeah, it was a concerning feel, even when he knew he had done something to prevent it, even with that knowledge Volte was still shaken.

“Order Black Squadrons up and out, Firespray-31s included. Launch Tri-Fighter Squadrons. Order the X-Wings to engage enemy fighters now! Order the Vulture Droids to engage!”

“Aye, Admiral. All X-Wing Squadrons, lock S-Foils close, engage enemy fighter units. Launching.”

The movements were instant, the sort of things one saw practiced time and time again. The T-65s locked their wings down and in, afterburners flaring-up in SLAMs like little torpedoes out and away. The speed of those sorts of fighters was such that made Volte wish he’d had them in a few other engagements. They were useful, damn useful, and the strategy he was able to employ with them made the man happy. The Vultures followed in their massed cloud, a hundred savage riders sent down and over the hill to raid the poor and defenseless, wild in their unkempt natures. Meanwhile, the Freedom’s Call went into a frenzy of it’s own, the hangar bays moving with the speed of machines.

The Skiprays launched, the Black Squadrons which held little comparison to their aged counterparts. Each one, by Imperial standards, was a capital ship of it’s own, each one carrying a heavy payload and well-trained crew. These were the quality boys, the mercenaries who’d thrown their lot in with the Confederacy when the money still ran like rivers and kept with the group, some out of connections, others because they had no other place to turn and too much honesty in their hearts. They formed up in their V-formations of five, blazing off some distance behind the Vultures and beginning their runs against the enemy capitals. The Firespray-31s launched, too, oversized engines blazing a trail bigger than themselves as they made way to the void, turrets good and ready. Those ships rapidly made their way up and past the Vulture Droids, their own engines flaring in the void as they took up formation with the T-65s. Then came the Tri-Fighters, nimble little bastards who took up formation with the Providence-Class, and they kept a far looser formation than the Vultures ever did. Spaced good and wide, theirs was the style of superiority in coordination, superiority in maneuverability, superiority in firepower. Smaller than a TIE/ln, their thrust ratios exceeded the more modern Imperial fighter, their firepower more than enough to deal with half a squadron of the eyeballs. Of course, it helped that each and every one of them had a more advanced computer aboard, every one of them knowing just how to kill a TIE, just how to place the shots and keep every other bastard alive. It would be concerning if they weren’t on Volte’s side.

They engaged, though, the T-65s locking S-Foils open at just the right moment prior to the strike before letting-loose with a massed, close range volley into the Imperial ranks before breaking to engage. The Firespray-31s weren’t much gentler to the TIEs; droid-operated Composite-beam laser turrets from LAAT/i’s cut into their formations, the computers knowing precisely how long one needed to fire on a target to cut a wing off, cut-through the hull, and frankly that time wasn’t all that long, before moving on to the next target. The distance hardly mattered to fire them, the beams reaching-out like a lance to touch an Imperial before the ship shattered and the gunner took to it’s next victim. They hardly looked like beams at all, just flashes of a line to a temporary sun. The Firespray-31s barely even paused as they cut right through, engines still flaring with the SLAM, heading straight for the Imperial Star Destroyers.

Behind them, alongside the 405th, came Home One, shields colored like a blue sun as the warship first came between the two Imperial Star Destroyers and Freedom’s Call before turning towards the fleet. Sublights flared in the void as the Star Cruiser moved on, heedless of the blasts the warships threw her way. Near a hundred fighters disgorged themselves from her hangar, taking their own positions alongside the massive Mon Calamari. It seemed that Admiral Ackbar had some intention of performing a one-man Ackbar Slash, something impressive as all hell considering the size of the balls required. Her turbolaser batteries started to fire, firing in vast salvos across her entire length into the Imperial II-Class without restraint. Volte paused as he saw the readings, saw the information before him; damn it all, but...moving between the two Star Destroyers would hamper any sort of efforts to coordinate, would destroy the sense of comfort they might have. It was a bold move.

“All Ahead, Full! Protect Home One!”

“Aye, Admiral,” a droid droned on back.

And so, the 405th Battle Squadron moved up alongside the Rebel, DP20s reaching ahead before loosing salvos of concussion missiles. Freedom’s Call took up her position just ahead of the Star Cruiser, batteries now blazing with the rest, just as the two Dauntless-Class Heavy Cruisers took up positions port and starboard of the whole formation. Imperial turbolaser fire raked the formation brutally, for just a few seconds concentrating on the Revenge; her shields flashed briefly as the cruiser took the brunt of the assault. Despite whatever might be said for the shields of a Dauntless-Class, despite how strong they might be, one ship was almost never capable of withstanding the brutality two Imperial Star Destroyers could inflict. Her shields flashed, her captain taking emergency procedures into his own hands as the engines of the warship went dead, all power to shields.

by **Woods Is Back** » Fri May 24, 2019 1:39 pm

Dak Deakin
The Avalon
Kashyyyk

The box he received told him of one of the Emperors secret bunkers full of valuable artifacts from across the galaxy. Deakin was hoping for credits. Naturally, he placed it on a planet full 7 feet tall fur balls who tried to rip your arms out if you cross them: Kashyyyk. "Just my luck", he thought. What was supposed to (hopefully) be a quick stealth job: in and out with gab anything that he needed. But it just got worse. Kashyyyk was a full blown warzone.

"Blast it!" Dak screamed in anger. He took a second to regain his wits, which didn't help anything. He saw the Rebel fleet, even the Home One was there. He looked to the other side, and his stomach started churning. The Imperial Fleet.

"Those bastards are here?! What in the hell are they doing here?" He was tempted to attempt to strafe an Imperial Star Destroyer, and hopefully take it down, but he calmed himself.

"Droid, what are the coordinates for the vault?"

The droid beeped.

"Are you kidding me? That wrinkly old bastard first puts on a dangerous planet. Then he installs ton of security on the place. Then naturally, when I come looking for it, its on the side of a planet that is a warzone. Great."

Then he did the most foolish, idiotic, and reckless thing that he would ever do. He flew into the battle.

"Droid, divert all poser to the shields, even the auxiliary power!"

The droid beeps again.

"I know that if we use all the power that we'll be sitting womprats! C'mon and do it!"

The droid did it.

The shields still couldn't tank multiple shots from a Star Destroyers turbolaser though. With each blast, the shields absorbed more, and more power until the point where the generator shorted out from the power, and took the rest of the ships power with it.

by **Britanania** » Fri May 24, 2019 5:42 pm

Grand Admiral Peccati Syn--The ISD-Silooth, over Kashyyyk

Syn watched as the battle unfolded. The enemy starfighters and gunships were making short work of his TIE fighters, although that was expected. They were doing their job, at least, of keeping them off of the capital ships for the moment. Of course, Syn was well aware that this would not last forever especially as the Home One entered the fray. The famed command ship of the Rebel Alliance was here, and Syn had an opportunity to possibly ned the rebellion here and now. He exhaled and took a deep breath to regain his composure.

The Grand Admiral turned to the Nightsister seated next to him. He could feel the effects of her Battle Meditation calming him and felt her mind enter his own. Syn nodded and understood some of her dark purpose and what he needed to do to win.

"Captain," he calmly stated, "have us and the Tuk'ata vertically ascend above the main Rebel lines," Syn ordered. "Have our fighters and interceptors keep those Rebel ships off of us. Move power to shields."

The officers nodded as they scurried off to complete their master's order with only the efficiency a well trained Imperial crew could and augmented with the efforts of a Dark Side user. With the orders carried out, Syn once again looked at the Dark Prophetess. Merili's powers extended far, and even without full communications his orders--or perhaps it was better said they were her orders--could be implemented. The ship lurched forward as it gained altitude, although in the vacuum of space "up" was a relative term.

Once the ships were in position Syn gave the next and most pertinent order.

"Enter lightspeed."

by **Ormata** » Fri May 24, 2019 11:32 pm

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Kashyyyk, Kashyyyk System, Mytaranor Sector

“Sir-”

The ISDs jumped; of course, they didn’t jump to lightspeed to escape the Rebel formation, no not at all. Even as fire licked the sides of the Revenge, her hull failing in several areas, the two Star Destroyers jumped to hyperspace and exited right there, right behind the Rebels, before then immediately turning. This was his chance, this was Volte’s chance. They had tried to outflank him, tried to strike at his rear and in that attempt they had shot themselves in the foot. There two Imperial Star Destroyers were to his rear, without fighter support and without a screen, laid bare like a feast trying to stab you in the back.

Home One reacted first, odd enough, perhaps spurred on by the very simple fact that a force of personality was born on her. Admiral Ackbar, after all, had few detractors and very, very many supporters, not to mention the fact that the Mon Calamari knew what was required of him in total. The Star Cruiser turned to starboard, here batteries engaging in full yet again despite the fact that the enemy vessels had not yet completed even a forth of their turn. Fire slammed into the rear of the Star Destroyers, piling on with little inclination towards halting. He wanted them disabled before the turn, disabled and adrift facing out and away where all things were safe. The formation astride Home One turned to engage as well, A-Wings forming loose and fast before speeding-off to engage the rear, the X-Wings locking down to bring themselves within range to fire off a concussion missile volley, while the Y-Wings lumbered behind. The formation of Tri-Fighters reacted nearly instantly; they turned aside, engines blaring to close the distance with the Star Destroyers. The orders to escort the formation were kept to and, as such, the fighters moved in for the kill. The rapid little thrusts each fighter made, designed to spoil any organic gunner’s aim, were magnified by their size and the fact that they themselves did not have organics; G-Forces meant little to the buggers. Among them lay the Z-95s, the fighters having been held in reserve, and their manner of flight was far more ungainly compared to the furtive droids.

Massed torpedo salvos from the two formations was the result, the little ships marked by the exhaust trails from their payloads. It looked like the stars in movement during hyperspace, so many lines reaching out like a thousand strands of blue and red grass against the foee. Impacts moved across the aft sections of the two Star Destroyers near the event horizons of their engines. For a moment it seemed as though a sun had gone supernova there, a bright flash as the shields took the brunt of the assault against them. Y-Wings launched their ion torpedoes, aiming to sever the tie the two mainline capital ships had to life itself. The flash gave way, though, the massed assault just barely breaching the shields of the two warships which shuddered and fell away. Home One’s bombardment continued on the enemy Imperial II-Class, the Tuk’ata. Explosions started along the aft sections of the warship, one of her engine exhausts almost immediately detonating.

Of course, Volte didn’t want to be left out from it all. It was his duty and requirement to engage the bastards, especially as the wreaked havoc on one of his own. Revenge’s shields had born the brunt of the enemy assault, failing before the two warships had made their jump to stab the formation in the back, and detonations licked at her port side. Several holes made themselves known, metal curving inwards in jagged spikes in some areas, outwards in others where secondary explosions had torn into the interior before damage control had halted the worst of it. There was some luck in her, though, as the detonations hadn’t reached the heavy cruiser’s reactor systems. Those gone and she would have gone out like a sun, dead and gone with no survivors at all. As it stood, the vessel’s outer hull had become clouded by debris and shards as well as the uncommon corpse.

“Bring us about, maintain formation. Concentrate all firepower on the Star Destroyers’ engines. Order the Black Squadrons to disable the Immobilizer-418s.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

The 405th turned, a tad delayed but turning nevertheless, with the Freedom’s Call lending her own firepower to the fray. Turbolaser batteries fired at will, a discordant hail on their armored hulls as the two Star Destroyers completed half their turns and finally became able to unleash their own broadsides. Octuple turbolaser fire ripped into the Providence-Class, her aft sections holding for just a moment before failing completely, two engines destroyed in a single blow to leave only a single brother. You felt it on the bridge, too, a massive shake and the dull, thunderous roar like a clap of death down the corridor. Then the long groan, metal tearing from metal. It most definitely didn’t sound good, that was for certain, Volte’s stomach turning with the very depressing realization that they had breached the shields indeed. Bastards.

Meanwhile, the remnants of the Imperial Fleet were torn to pieces. The TIE/ln fighters left without support fell victim to relentless Vulture droids, no mercy being found there, and the X-Wings kept their own formations up well and good. It was very hard to combat that sort of force, outnumbered as the Imperials were, with the discordant arrays of Vulture droids forming ad hoc squadrons whenever they damn well pleased, firing missiles in four rocket salvos against singular targets, while the X-Wings kept to their own squadron-mates to cover one-another’s backs. Careful consideration was taken to ensure that the enemy fighters weren’t allowed to form back up whatsoever, something that murdered any attempt to form a cohesive counter strike against the frenzied assault. The Firespray-31s didn’t help at all, cutting through the enemy formation like a hot knife through butter, powering on through to be followed by the GAT-12 Skiprays.

They made their runs on the two Immobilizer-418s; there was little the interdictors could do, really. Their shields and weapons had been disabled by the usage of gravity well generators, the power necessary for such things a great massive drain to anything normally useful. The Fireprays came in first, salvos of ion torpedoes running out before them to impact along the upper hulls of the light cruisers. The first one, closer, felt that wrath as shields shut down and away, hyperdrive dead, sublights dead. The farther interdictor, though, she had different plans. There was little forewarning to the detonations across the Immobilizer-418’s hull, the reactor overload turning the vessel into a deadly cloud of debris. The other, however, laid adrift and dead. The Vultures began to make passes on her, each squadron launching volleys of Discord missiles into the Immobilizer-418’s now depressurized and unprotected hangar bay, little explosions in midair as Buzz Droids boarded the cruiser. Of course, these little models weren’t armed with the standard saw one might see during the Clone Wars; they were armed with E-5 Blaster Rifles and, despite their stature, used them mercilessly. The orders were simple; eradicate the Imperial presence on the warship. They intended to do so punctually.

by **Britanania** » Sun May 26, 2019 8:55 pm

Grand Admiral Peccati Syn--The ISD-Silooth, over Kashyyyk

Syn's plan, as audacious as it was seemingly worked as within seconds of entering lightspeed the Silooth and the Tuk'ata were pulled out by the Empire's Immobilisers, appearing behind the Rebel lines and already making their turning manoeuvres. Even as the Rebel ships began their own attacks, Syn was convinced at the logic of his choice and pressured his crew forward.

"Only a short while and we can crush the Rebellion," he told the men. Even as the enemy salvos rocked the Silooth, once his forces were in their proper position he gave them to order to give a full bombardment on the enemy flanks.

by **Draos** » Wed May 29, 2019 8:24 am

Taris TCS shipping Warehouse
A very disgruntled looking Duros named Fein Zal stood in front of a large warehouse with the letters TCS spelled out in Aurabesh surrounded by Imperial Army troopers from the local garrison. Their Sergeant began his usual Xenophobic comments towards what appeared to be the Owner of the building "Hey Freak you finally going to let us search your warehouse for the smuggled goods you got in there?" The rank and file grunts began shoving the Non-human around like he was a piñata until his security and local planetary police arrived to break up the obnoxious occupiers. The Duros brushed off his coat and looked at the Sergeant "I thought they trained you boys to have a little discipline" His security team and a Few of the Local police officers chuckled while the Imperials went red faced in anger their leader pointed his blaster at Fein's head" you forget alien this is our planet and we can do what we want when we want.". Tensions quickly rose as both sides quickly drew weapons and aimed at each other before Zal pointed his hand and his men lowered their weapons " is that what the Empire has become after their big shiny space station blew up by a bunch of ragtag rebels?" his face was unreadable but his tone clearly showed he was not intimidated by the thugs in uniform. Seeing that numbers weren't on their sides and locals staring at them the Imperials retreated to their base throwing insults and curses at Fein.

by **Sudbrazil** » Sun Jun 02, 2019 7:38 pm

Sienar-Velcar
Jæmus Orbital Shipyards

As the dozens of clocks, electronic or otherwise, ticked to 07:00 AM, hundreds of workers erupted from their transport ships to begin their weekly shifts at one of Sienar Fleet System’s many docks spinning in synchronous orbit around Jæmus. Among the ever-present Human majority, aliens of different shapes, colours and genders passed through the tight security gauntlets established by Imperial Navy troopers assigned to protect such stations from sabotage by subversive elements. Soon, the men and women that composed the Imperial Industrial-Military complex set out to work inspecting and maintaining the thousands of robots set about the workspaces and assembly lines charged with the production of the Empire's premier aerospatial fighter: the Twin Ion Engine Fighter, or TIE. There was much work to be done as this station was finishing retooling for the new TIE Hunter, and although most parts were shared between all models, there were many new components to be installed, most notably a hyperdrive and a shielding unit. The time schedule for the first batches was tight – only one month remained – but Sienar would be damned if it didn't deliver.
The whole scene would make for an excellent promotional holovid. At least, that was what the local liaison officer thought as he observed the main assembly line through the transparisteel window of his office. He closed his door, lowered the curtains and made sure that he couldn't be heard from the outside. Turning on his holographic feed, he sent encrypted signals into the deep dark vacuum around the stars.

✵

Grand Moff Ardus Kaine
Nexus City, Entralla

“... and while we are having a few logistical issues, the first batches will arrive in one month for 275.000 apiece. Full-scale production will begin in two months, and the next batches will have a lower cost: 100.000 per unit.”

The transmission flickered briefly as the encryption codes switched once more. While the pace at which the project was advancing was more than satisfactory, it wasn't fast enough. Interceptors retrofitted with shields could only do so much. And while the liaison was doing a good job at resuming everything, he was eating through their time quickly with technical details. Fortunately, he was interrupted by an admiral, who motioned him to wrap it up.
“Uh, and KDY reports that the Lancer-class automation package will not be ready for at least half an year, though the larger issue is finding a budget to build enough ships to serve as escorts for more than one fleet. Thank you very much.”
The compliment was replied by the high-ranking officers, and the holographic man faded away leaving them alone.
“It is clear that we aren't in a position to regain lost territory,” motioned the same admiral. “Much less to challenge the council.”
“Indeed,” replied Governor Ibn Deket, “But we must still hold what we have! What about the Rebel attack on the Wookies?”
All eyes turned upon the pompously dressed man and his hat. Had the insurgents already come to Kashyyyk? they seemed to ask. As if reading those minds, he explained
“I presumed that the message had come through from Coruscant that Grand Admiral Syn reported a small Rebel fleet approaching. Unfortunately, communications were cut and we have not heard from him since.”
The table slipped back into silence with these words. Kashyyyk wasn't really that important: its main exports were Wookie slaves and Wroshyr wood, each having been rendered obsolete by advances in Droid labour and materials respectively. But it was still a statement, a statement that Ardus Kaine would support his allies, that the last domino would fall there. Finally, the Grand Moff spoke after a period of disturbing tacitness since the beginning of the meeting.

“The Devronian Sector Fleet has finished refitting its TIE fighters. We shall send their Secutor and four Enforcer picket ships while pulling away an Immobilizer and Victory from the Generis Fleet while they awaits their upgrades.”

by **Ormata** » Fri Jun 07, 2019 7:49 pm

Adm Gharro Volte
Freedom’s Call, 405th Battle Squadron
Kashyyyk, Kashyyyk System, Mytaranor Sector

Turbolaser fire ripped into the two Star Destroyers without pause; at ranges such as these, volume of fire was more important than accuracy. Little detonations lit like bursting light bulbs, brief as the shot’s heat ignited local oxygen before violent decompression snuffed the inferno away. These vents let loose torrents of debris into space, metal scrap, equipment, or people launching out and away in clusters. The enemy engine systems had already born the brunt of it, chunks of afterburner missing from many of the smaller sublights. The vast torches of those more massive engines had already been silenced on the enemy Imperial II-Class, the Tuk’ata, her hull drifting.

The fighters had run rampant on the two Star Destroyers, demonstrating exactly what a starfighter could do when it wasn’t hampered by a screen, competing fighters, or any sort of severe point defense system. Marauding Y-Wing squadrons let loose their payloads directly into the enemy hangar bays, proton torpedoes like fireflies before detonating inside. They had only been saved from disaster by the quick thinking of the vessels’ loadmasters. Nevertheless, the torpedo's punched holes in the bulkheads and overheads, shrapnel and hull plating clouding the bays to the point of impotence. X-Wing and A-Wing squadrons employed themselves as razors, targeting any fire control stations, radars, and turrets with impunity.

One enterprising X-Wing squadron made a run on the Tuk’ata;s main battery, her octuplet barbettes, skirting along the aft blind spots before unloading their entire proton torpedo magazines into the turrets at nearly point blank ranges. A flurry of detonations followed them, licking at the aft shields of the fighters. They didn’t disperse though, far from it as the volatile concentrated Tibanna gas flooded out from the cracked barbettes and their housings. From the bridge of the Freedom’s Call, it looked like a firestorm had burst out from the Imperial vessel, a dancing demon.

“By the Three...” whispered Ena, voice filled with amazement and perhaps just a little dread as the organics among the bridge crew watched with perverse wonder. The Imperial crew had to have released safeties in preparation to power the guns without delay, had to to have made such a thing possible. It was a severe mistake. Volte stood from the chair, watching as the Tuk’ata’s hull burst in little stars. Escape pods from the warship, that’s what it was, the last death knoll for the Star Destroyer and for any Imperial crew. For them to abandon ship, that meant it was about to detonate regardless of whatever they would do. That meant it was doomed. The fighter swarms about the vessel thrusted out and away, eager to not be caught in the blast and debris. It’d be a cruel joke to die in the midst of a victory after all. Getting smashed by some speeding piece of hull was a real concern, especially when a ship got to the size of an ISD. Turbolaser volleys continued on as the vessel was abandoned, internal explosions running riot before the inevitable occurred. The reactor lit-off, a sun in the endless night, and the internals of the Tuk’ata vaporized. Only the dissected corpse remained, the outer armor holding together loosely as the superstructure tore itself apart. Her aft hull and engine components were just clouds of dust, small debris.

Despite the spectacle, however, the battle still wasn’t over. The Silooth fought on, broadsides roaring uncaring that main propulsion had been lost. Emergency maneuvering thrusters had been activated, her side burning with engine fire in the attempt. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable occurred, local space being filled with snubfighters and bombers and the ISD without escort. Two wings of Y-Wings took charge, an attack run on the Silooth’s bridge before, just prior to going over the superstructure, the opened fire. Torpedoes streaked out from the bombers before obliterating the unshielded bridge.

With that, the Liberation of Kashyyyk had begun.

by **Draos** » Sat Jun 29, 2019 7:23 pm

Etti IV capital of the Corporate Sector Authority 3 months after Endor.
Carser Buckgra the ExO OF the Authority stood in front of the direz board "Gentlebeings let's get to our favorite past time business shall we?" there was a smattering of polite chuckles which was followed by the middle aged Human clearing his throat. "Today we have 2 major issues on our agenda. First is our status in the current war between the Empire and the Rebels with the Death of the Emperor there is a major power vacuum we can exploit to our advantage but we do no have the forces to even feasibly hold out for a week if the Imperial Navy decided they don't like our approach and try and punish us." This was immediately followed by the shifting of seats as many members clearly were not in favor of the latter possibility "So I propose we play it safe and for now fulfill our contractual requirements to the Empire while slowly building up our forces to better defend ourselves." a Few nods of approval were evened out with some headshakes of disagreement. This may be a fiercely debated argument later Carser thought to himself.

He grimaced as he thought about the next talking point bringing up a holoimage of an ice covered world "Ando Prime as many of you may or may not know this planet was an embarassment for the Corporate Sector 5 years before the birth of the Authority." He straightened his tie as he sighed knowing full well what the members would do not liking and would prefer to be peaceful in his dealings "The hutts contol the economy of this sytem even though it is on the border of Authority Space there has been a motion to attempt to seize control of the planet by subterfuge or force crom the cartel we shall now hold a vote on the matter all in favor saye aye." almost immediately a chorous of ayes rang across the meeting room Carser sighed softly to himself "all in favor say nay" there was only a handful of nays clearly outnumbered. "It is decided we shall begin to discuss our strategy on how to drive out the slugs." Hours later he left the room into his penthouse and looked at himself in the mirror and tried to convinvce himself he was a good person like he did after every meeting of the board.

by **Britanania** » Sat Jun 29, 2019 9:21 pm

Kashyyyk

Two landing craft stealthy made their way down to the jungle and forest planet. With the destruction of the Imperial squadron above, the Rebellion had every opportunity to begin their invasion, but the Empire, they knew, were dug in and well entrenched. Kashyyyk might serve as a critical strategic world, but it was a source of valuable slave labour and boasted a well-fortified garrison. If the Rebel Alliance wanted to prove itself after Endor, it needed to take Kashyyyk.

And so, in preparation for the general invasion Admiral Ackbar authorised the landing of two squads of Wilderness Fighters. Their mission was a simple one: link up with any local Wookiee resistance forces and knock out Imperial jamming and SAMs.

The Battle for Kashyyyk had begun.

by **Brusia** » Sun Jun 30, 2019 11:53 pm

Jedi General Martius Shan
Orbit of Tinnel IV
Bridge of the Victory
19 BBY

Klaxons were sounding throughout the Venator-class cruiser, which served as Martius' flagship, as the Jedi General made his way back to the Victory's Bridge. Blood was running down his face from a head wound sustained when shrapnel from a nearby LAAT, which was destroyed by enemy AA-fire, tore through the side of Martius' gunship, injuring him and several of the clone troopers aboard. When he reached the front of the Bridge, his XO saluted and asked: "General Shan, are you alright sir?"

"I'll be fine." Martius replied "How many men did we lose?"

"174. Eight gunships were destroyed and two were heavily damaged; looks like the enemy AA coverage is more extensive than we previously thought.

"Clearly." Martius stated while shaking his head "Looks like we'll have to land outside the range of those proton cannons after all. You get the time estimates on how long it'll take to reach the port on foot from the closest LZ yet?"

"The estimate was around two weeks sir, but we have another problem."

"At this point I suppose that should come as no surprise. What's the problem?"

"The Sep ships we drove from the system rendezvoused with a fleet, and latest reports suggest they're making their way back here. Our most recent scans of the port city also indicate that the clankers there are preparing to mobilize."

"Meaning we don't have two weeks."

"Not even close sir."

Martius brought his hand to his face as he pondered their situation "You contact the Council to request reinforcements?"

"I did sir, they said there aren't any ships available to send."

Unfortunate but not unexpected. The Republic's forces were overextended as it was, and Martius knew that if the Separatists dug in and blockaded Tinnel IV, the Republic wouldn't likely be able to muster the manpower to mount a successful invasion, and if the CIS was able to convert the Core World of Tinnel IV's industrial facilities to droid factories, it could be disastrous for the Republic. Turning back to his XO, Martius asked: "Any suggestions, Commander?"

"We could try to land our forces and reach the city before the Sep fleet arrives, but our chances of actually managing to do so are virtually non-existent and if we fail we could lose an entire Battalion. We could retreat, make our way to another front until more of our forces become available then return and try to retake the system, but if the clankers have the chance to dig in, build more of those cannons, and get droid factories up and running, our casualties trying to retake the planet would be...extensive. At that point sir, I wouldn't like our odds of retaking the planet at all."

Martius rubbed his eyes. It was a no win situation where a loss might well end up costing the Republic the war. With the usual strategies exhausted, their only hope to win the battle was a plan well outside of the ordinary. With a heavy sigh, Martius asked the Commander: "What about an orbital bombardment?"

"Sir?"

"If we target them now, could we eliminate the Separatist forces on the planet with an orbital bombardment?"

After the shock of the suggestion wore off, the Commander replied "Well...yes sir, but the clankers and proton cannons are spread throughout the port city; to destroy the Sep forces now would require destroying the entire city."

"But it would prevent them from conquering the planet. And if we were to retreat and had to return to mount a full planetary invasion, far more lives would be lost than just those currently in the city, would they not?"

"Most likely sir, but I can't imagine the Council will likely see things that way."

"Our first duty is to the Republic, and if this will save lives in the long run I have to believe the Council will understand. Order the fleet to target the Separatists on the planet."

The Commander nodded, and after a few minutes of issuing, confirming, and re-confirming the order, he returned to Martius to report: "The fleet is ready, General."

"Fire when ready."

The loud report of the Victory's turbolasers was soon drowned out by thousands of voices simultaneously screaming out in terror through the Force. The hopes, dreams, and lives of fifty thousand people reduced to the simple mathematical conclusion that the strategic importance and lives of others on the planet outweighed their own. As the screams reached a deafening level, Martius collapsed on the floor of the Bridge; then suddenly, everything was silent. And then he woke up.

Martius Kellar
Hyperspace
Personal Quarters of the Renascor
Present Day

As he shot up out of his sleep, Martius rolled over and reached for one of the Corellian whiskey bottles on his nightstand, sending a few empty bottles clanging to the ground in the process. Fortunately, he'd long since mastered the art of drinking just enough to drown out the screams that still lingered in his mind without drinking so much that it significantly impaired his ability to function. That was to be particularly beneficial today, as he would need all his faculties for his coming assignment: smuggling a group of Rebel SpecForce Commandos to the occupied world of Kashyyyk, introduce them to his contact in the local Wookiee resistance forces, and help them shut down the Empire's jammers and SAM batteries in the area.

As he clambered to the bathroom and took a much needed shower, he thought back to the days when such a mission would've been fairly routine for him; it was still hard to believe how much things had changed since then, both personally and in the Galaxy at large. Grabbing a towel, he figured now was probably not the best time to be pondering Galactic politics or his own personal demons however, and after rinsing out his mouth with a fairly copious amount of mouthwash, he got changed and made his way up to the cockpit to focus on the matter at hand. Fortunately, he had pulled a few jobs on Kashyyyk, smuggling supplies to the Wookiee resistance and occasionally helping to smuggle out freed Wookiee slaves, so he was familiar with the area and the Imperial defenses there, though they would undoubtedly be on higher alert than usual given the Rebel fleet orbiting the planet.

Or at least hopefully orbiting the planet; if the Imperials had managed to drive off the Rebel fleet than the happenings planetside were a moot point anyway. Still, he wasn't particularly worried; he knew Ackbar to be an exceptionally talented Admiral, and had little doubt he'd be able to eliminate what was likely a scant force guarding the strategically non-critical world. Beeping from one of the consoles in the cockpit let Martius know that he'd be finding out first-hand soon enough however as the Renascor dropped out of hyperspace and into orbit of the Wookiee homeworld. Fortunately, the ships his scanner detected were from the Alliance, and if the nearby debris fields were any indication, they had indeed been successful in eliminating the Imperial vessels guarding the planet.

He was soon contacted by Home One, and after transmitting his clearance codes to the vessel, was cleared to land. Glancing out the window at the Rebel fleet while flying towards the Mon Calamari vessel, for a moment he could swear he saw a Providence-class ship, prompting him to look down towards the flask in his pocket and ponder just what the Corellians were putting in their whiskey these days. Whatever the case, shortly after touching down in one of the hanger bays on the Rebel flagship, the Renascor was approached by a group of Alliance technicians who began emptying the cargo bays of the supplies Martius had brought them and started refueling the vessel. As they went about their work, Martius lowered the Renascor's boarding ramp and stepped off the ship to find a well-armed Twi'lek Rebel dressed in camouflage waiting for him.

"I take it you're the smuggler we've been waiting for" the Rebel stated before extending her hand "I'm Major Gida Amersu, I'll be commanding the mission to Kashyyyk."

"Pleased to meet you Major" Martius stated shaking her hand "I'm Martius Kellar, Captain of the Renascor. Sounds like I'll be..."

The Major interrupted: "Let's get one thing straight right now 'Captain', you may be assisting us on this mission but I will be leading it, and that means you will do what I say when I say it. My people are the best of the best, and frankly I don't like the idea of contracting out to someone I don't know, particularly for a mission this important, but you do that much and we'll get along just fine. Don't and we're going to have a problem, and I am not someone you want to have a problem with. Understood?"

Martius couldn't help but grin abit at the warning, it sounded like exactly the sort of thing he'd expect his old XO from the Clone Wars to say, and that no nonsense attitude was a trait he always respected in a soldier. Figuring the Major would want an equally no nonsense answer, he simply nodded and replied: "Understood."

"Good" she stated in response "For starters you can speak to the Quartermaster to get some fatigues, you'll stick out like a sore thumb on Kashyyyk in that vest. Once you're changed meet back here for the briefing with the rest of the squad." Martius took a look at his lucky vest and, much as he liked the garment, had to agree with the Major's assessment. It'd be better yet to have his old armor from the Clone Wars, but fatigues at least were better than nothing. Giving the Major another nod he carried out her instructions and on the way back stopped by his ship to pick up a satchel containing his blaster, holster, a few stims, a sonic emitter, and his lightsaber in a hidden internal pouch. When he returned, he found some 30 very well armed individuals gathered around a holomap.

"Glad you decided to join us" the Major sarcastically stated "Now, let's begin." Bringing up the area around the Imperial Base on the holomap the Major stated: "Alright everyone, listen up: Captain Kellar here will be flying us in under the Imp's radar to a small clearing south of the enemy base in an area called the Shadowlands, here. From there we'll proceed to a Wookiee Resistance camp to link up with their fighters before hitting the base and disabling the enemy's jamming and anti-air capacity so that Admirals Ackbar and Volte can start landing the main force..."

"Volte..." Martius thought, while trying to think back. He recognized the name but couldn't place from where...

Meanwhile, Major Amersu continued: "Now than, the fate of Kashyyyk likely rests on whether we succeed or fail here, so I'll be leading the mission personally. Any questions?" With no responses she stated: "Good, than let's get moving. Captain Kellar, you're with me." Martius nodded and followed the Twi'lek to the cockpit of a Sentinel-class landing craft where she informed him: "We captured this shuttle back on Endor; used to be a Storm Commando transport so it's been fitted with about every radar jammer you can think of and our mechanics added a few additional modifications to improve its speed and maneuverability. Think you can handle it?"

Martius smiled and replied: "Trust me, if it flies, I can handle it. Might want to strap yourself in though; this could get a little bumpy..."

Once the equipment was stowed and everyone was properly strapped in, Martius took off out of the hanger and descended rapidly through Kashyyyk's atmosphere, leaving a brilliant orange hue covering the cockpit window. As they made their way towards the planet's surface, Gida asked: "So, how many times have you made this run?"

"Three or four" Martius replied "Though never had to make it with the Imps on high alert; figure we'll have to start the run further out and keep lower through the treeline to avoid getting spotted by any TIEs flying patrol near the base."

"How much lower?"

"Low enough to keep things interesting" as the tops of the massive trees covering much of Kashyyyk's surface came into view he continued: "Speaking of, you may want to hold onto something..." As they neared the pitch black forest floor, deep enough within the treeline to avoid being spotted by any enemy fighters Martius pulled back hard on the stick and began maneuvering through the dense woods.

"Watch your left!" the Major exclaimed seeing a massive nearby treebranch only for Martius to calmly reply: "Don't worry, I see it" and rapidly maneuver out of the way. "You a nervous flyer?" Martius asked in a joking tone.

"I wasn't this morning, but you fly any closer to those trees and I might be by the time we land" the Major jokingly replied. Martius chuckled and kept flying through the treeline, which soon became trickier as it got more and more dense as they neared the clearing which was to serve as their LZ. The two were dead silent now as Martius focused solely on the task at hand, monitoring the area in front of them closely to spot any obstacles the moment they appeared to immediately maneuver the shuttle out of the way. As they neared the final stretch of forest before the clearing, two trees stood between them and their objective; the only problem: the shuttle was much too wide to fit through the gap. Martius quickly looked around for an alternative, but seeing none had an idea to fit through...

As the shuttle neared the trees, Gida turned to Martius and stated: "Captain..."

To which Martius replied: "I know."

"We're not going to fit..."

"Trust me, we'll fit."

"Are you crazy? There's no way we're going to..."

"Hold on!" Martius quickly flipped a switch to fold the shuttle's wings, then rolled hard to the left, timing it just right so the wings were at a position to keep the shuttle's profile as narrow as possible and allowing it to barely pass through the two trees, chipping off just a few splinters with the shuttle's top wing.

"I don't think that exactly counts as a fit."

"Hey, if it doesn't send us spiraling to a fiery death, it counts in my book. At any rate, we're coming up on the LZ; might want to get your men ready to move out."

The Major nodded, unstrapped her safety harness and moved back to the troop transport area while Martius found a large enough area of solid ground to touch down. After landing he dropped the vessel's ramp then stood up and grabbed his satchel before heading down to meet up with the troops as well. The two squads were all doing last minute checks on their weapons and equipment to ensure everything was in perfect working order before heading out. Martius used the time to grab his blaster and holster out of his satchel and attached the latter to his thigh so he could quickly reach for his blaster should worst come to worst. After doing so he gave his own A180 a quick check to ensure the bumpy ride didn't damage it, then made his way over to the Major.

"We ready to move out?" he asked

"We are" she replied.

"Good" Martius stated before pulling the sonic emitter out of his bag "This device will help keep the local wildlife off us but it's range is limited, so make sure everyone stays close; I nearly got eaten by a pack of Katarns my first trip through here and believe me that's an experience you want to avoid."

Looking to the rest of the troops, Gida stated: "Alright everyone, you heard the man, keep close and keep alert!" Looking back to Martius, she stated: "Alright Captain, after you; hope you remember the way. Let's move out!"

All but one of the group moved out of the shuttle with Martius and Gida leading the way through the clearing and Northwest back to the Shadowlands. They made good time through the clearing, but their progress was slowed considerably on entering the Shadowlands; the thick underbrush and near total darkness from the trees blocking out the sun made traversing the area difficult, even for the highly experienced Pathfinders. Fortunately Martius remembered the route to the camp, keeping the group on the right track, and the sonic emitter did its job holding back Kashyyyk's aggressive wildlife so progress wasn't as fast but they did stay on schedule. The group stayed quiet and highly alert on the journey, keeping a close eye out for any signs of Imperials.

Fortunately, they didn't run into any trouble, and the group soon arrived at the camp. They were greeted by two Wookiee guards, one of whom escorted them through the camp to the largest building which served as a meeting area and home for the group's Chieftain. Martius and Gida entered the building as the rest of their group stayed outside and took up positions to help guard the camp. As the two entered, the Chieftain slowly approached Martius before suddenly wrapping his arms around the smuggler and lifting him up off the ground, causing the Major to jump back in surprise and begin to reach for her pistol before she heard Martius state: "Oookay, easy there big guy, it's good to see you again too." Martius patted the Wookiee on the back before being let back down on the ground.

Motioning towards Gida, Martius then stated: "Chrawk, I'd like you to meet my friend, Major Amersu from the Rebel Alliance. Major, this is Chieftain Chrawk."

"A pleasure, Chieftain" Gida stated while bowing her head slightly towards the Wookiee.

The Chieftain returned her bow, then turned to Martius to ask: "Arrrwagrrr?"

"Actually, we're hoping to help you. The Alliance has destroyed the Imperial vessels in orbit and is preparing to deploy a force to drive the Empire off your world, but they need your help."

The Major continued: "We can't land our main force until the Empire's jamming and anti-aircraft weapons are disabled. My team and I have been sent to infiltrate the Imperial base nearby for just that purpose, but we don't have the numbers to take on the Imperial garrison there. To do that, we'll need help from you and the rest of the Wookiee Resistance."

Looking again to Martius, the Wookiee asked: "Hurwaaarrarrg?"

"I won't lie to you Chrwak, this mission is risky, both for your people and the Alliance, but if we succeed your people will be free again; free from the Imperial slavers, free from the constant fear of attack, free to leave the Shadowlands and return to your homes in the trees. And the trees, after all, are life."

"Rowrigghh hrmkuhhrnnn" the Chieftain stated in agreement, before continuing: "Grrrrrrrrgaahga."

The Major leaned in towards Martius and quietly asked: "What did he say?"

And Martius informed her: "He agreed to help us. He said he'll send out messengers to the other nearby Resistance cells to request their assistance as well; takes longer than sending a transmission but it's alot less likely to be intercepted by the Imps."

"Thank you, Chieftain" the Major replied "You have my word we'll do everything we can to help your people. For now, I suggest we use the time we have to work on a battle plan."

The Chieftain motioned towards a handdrawn map of the area, and the three approached. The outlines of a plan already in mind, the Major pointed towards the entrance of the base and stated: "Chieftain, if the Resistance could launch a diversionary attack on this outpost to the east, it should draw enough of their forces away from the main base to allow me and my people to begin our infiltration from the woods west of the base. Once their relief force reaches that outpost your people should fall back to the Shadowlands; at that point we should have enough time to complete our objective before they can return."

Martius looked at the map for a moment and stated: "Chrwak, these sonic emitters like the one you gave me to repel wildlife, is there anyway they can be reversed to attract wildlife?"

"Mmrrrrr, Hurrrarg?"

"Good, I think I may have an idea..."

by **White Bluff** » Tue Jul 02, 2019 10:45 pm

Coruscant, Imperial Palace, Three months ago

Traya stood on the balcony to her room as she looked over the city, he thoughthought about the fact her father and his minor Vader were light-years away facing an onslaught from the Rebel alliance, My father will pull though this, he is powerful, and with Vader at his side he can not fail, but then a servant rushed in, interruptingredients her thoughts.

The servant looked timidly at Traya, "My Lady."

"What do you want?" Traya was slightly annoyed at the servant for her interruption

"I bring news, of your father, and the Battle of Endor."

Traya's eyes light up, "yes? What is it?"

The woman paused for a moment, "it is lost, the Rebels defeated our forces on Endor....and your father, along side Lord Vader, is dead."

Traya stood still for a moment before whispering, "get out," when the servant stood for a moment longer Traya looked at her a screamed, "Get out!" The woman rushed from the room, Traya broke down and cried as soon as the door closed. She looked back out the balcony and screamed as if she was in pain. As she did she saw the crowds forming in the streets, pulling down statues of her now late father, and shooting fireworks as if to celebrate his death. She was horrified, and knew that if these people were to celebrate her father's death, they would not have qualms of getting rid of her. She slowly backed into her room, turned to the door and ran. She ran to the elevator, went down hanger bay of the palace, and ran to her CR90 Corellian corvette, Calypso, a present from her father, she climbed inside and ordered the crew to get her off the planet, she needed time to think on where to go.

How could this happen? My father and Vader were powerful, how could they be defeated? Where can I go? she then remembered seeing plans of her father's, to build something in the Unknown Regions, The Empire of the Hand?

She turns to her pilot, "take us to the Unknown Regions, now!"

"Yes Ma'am" and with that he took them into lightspeed. As they traveled she returned to her thoughts, What does this mean for me? Does this make me Empress? Am I now the ruler of the Empire? she shook those thoughts as she had the realization, No, I must reunite the Empire first, then I can rule. Her thoughts of what is there to come came to mind next, I hope there is someone, something out here, I don't want to be alone.

After a few minutes they exited lightspeed, not realizing that a much larger ship was right outside, their comms started lighting up as they noticed it, "Ma'am, they demand that we land and surrender ourselves! Orders?"

Traya doubted they'd be hostile to a surrendering party, "do as they say," with that her ship flew into the hanger bay and landed. As the door opened suddenly armed men stormed her craft and took them all into custody, her blaster was taken and she was thrown in a cell. With the quick procession of events she began to freak out, but knew she couldn't show it, as her thoughts raced she kept her demeanor calm and collected. What is happening?! Who are these people? I hope they aren't part of the Rebel alliance, they would probably kill me. After several hours of these thoughts and waiting in a cell the door opens. even quickly stands and watches as Admiral Thrawn walks though the door.

Star Wars: A Risen Rebellion [IC/Open]

Star Wars: A Risen Rebellion [IC/Open]

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