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Moonshadow (Star Wars RP IC)

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Imperialisium
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Founded: Apr 17, 2011
Democratic Socialists

Moonshadow (Star Wars RP IC)

Postby Imperialisium » Tue Feb 20, 2024 5:04 am

OOC

///:Mer-Zhena XI:///
//Uncharted Settlement//
/675 Light Years from nearest major hyperlane, Outer Rim/
3 BBY


Thud-thud, thud-womp thud

Indistinct screams echoed as the single light fixture in the brown bare wall room fluttered to life. Unleashing an uncaring white glow on the small form wrapped in a pair of blankets. Twin eyes flicking awake with alarm at the sudden light than the sounds outside. A feminine form paused for a moment before reaching down with a flash and pulling the smaller figure up. Causing a groan and cry of "Mama!"

"Come on, we gotta go," came the mothers response.

"Go where?" said the child as her mother wrapped the straps of a backpack around her and ushered her towards the door. A larger sack slung over the mother's shoulders. Sliding the front door of their small hovel open they were met by the gruff masculine figure of an older man with tanned, leathery, skin. Dark eyes and black hair peppered with grey-white streaks. His torso encased in dirty white armor and orange pauldrons with long worn paint. A dull grey cloak hung down and half obscured his brown trousers and boots. An old, battered DC-15A carbine was gripped in his right hand while he reached out and pulled the mother into the dirt path that passed a side street.

"Make for the transports. The convoy won't wait long, even with the money we promised them."

"The Guerrillas?"

A small nod told the mother all she needed to know as she ushered her daughter forth. Flashes of red in the distance on the outskirts of the small town, amid the stalks of green-brown cultivated fields, mirrored in time with desperate shouts in the distance. The gruff man followed, occasionally looking back, and then at the end of the street pushed them into cover behind a building before raising the blaster to his eyes and letting out a pair of bolts. A scream as a dark figure rushing around a corner caught two dead center. Crumpling into the dirt. A door in a nearby hovel opened and another civilian appeared, an older man with white hair carrying an old long rifle emerged, firing off into the darkness only to let out a brief yell as a red laser bolt struck him the chest.

The gruff older man reached down and ushered the duo with more urgency, "They're inside the outer perimeter. Killed Jasp and Curr watching the fence gates before we even knew what was going on."

"Why are they attacking us!" said the mother as they ran along the dirt path deeper into the small farming town. Their passage now joined by other families running towards the center of the town. Towards the clearing in which awaited the rectangular box-like looking transports. Engines idling.

"Cause we shot one of them when they tried to beat on Alderman Nieman when they demanded half our crop."

"You mean you shot one of them."

The gruff man's mood darkened but his situational awareness did not. A flurry of red bolts lit up the sky to the left. Leaving blackened scorch marks along several buildings as someone fired a rotary gun into the town. The orange glow of fires emerged on the opposite end of the cluster of town buildings. The sound of blasters was growing, and the trio reached a simple barricade of overturned carts, sandbags, and bricks guarded by a quartet of men. One of whom slung a bulk DC-15 Blaster Rifle and was fully decked in an old Phase II Clone trooper's panoply except for his head. His helmet hung at his belt. Face perfectly matching the gruff man that escorted the woman. "Uncle Kell!" The daughter croaked with fear in her eyes.

"Get down!" The gruff man and the guards hit the dirt. The mother and child pushed down and covered by the body of the gruff man as the slow screams of projectiles soared over head. Detonating among buildings to the right. Setting alight a larger complex of buildings and stalls that once served as a market of sorts. Mortars.

"They're shooting mortars, really!" said Uncle Kell through gritted teeth. A white orb swung up in a high arc overhead the town and blossomed into a small sun. Flare round.

No response, just the gruff old man hauling the mother and child up and ushering them forth. Leaving Uncle Kell with the guards as they crouched into firing positions. Rounding a corner, they could now see the transports. Flashes of blaster fire erupted behind them. "Unc-!" Started the girl but the mother cut her off, "Kell will be alright." The trio passed a burn out hovel, the work of a mortar, and the mother covered her daughters' eyes at the six bodies strewn about the entrance way and alley. They could only press on until they reached a steel fence with twitchy sentries looking out into the gloom. Other townsfolk filed in, some with anxious gaits, others running with little concern other than their own hides, and thus they passed into the wide expanse were several transports sat. Crews ushering in the townsfolk. There was little organization. A pair of engines flared, and the first transport rose quickly into the heavens. Then the second, then the third, a fourth started its ascent only for a rocket to slam into the side. Lurching the craft into a slow spin until it disappeared over some squat buildings with a flash of smoke, thunderous roar of fuel combusting, and cloud-pillar of black smoke.

Panic set in and now the townsfolk, hundreds, shoved and pushed their way aboard. A blaster barked behind them, and people turned. Uncle Kell and one other guard from the barricade, of the other two only a grim conclusion could be made, was standing there with a small pistol raised high. "Children mothers first, let's go people!"

The mother pushed forward, and a transport crew member waved them through amid shouts and cries. A flurry of flashes near the perimeter of the expanse. A mad dash as the brief order was ruined by newfound desperation. The crews retreated into their craft and slammed on hatch access panels. The ramps rising as the engines warmed. Dust kicking up about the landing gears of the craft as they lurched and began to lift. Not all the townsfolk were aboard, several dozen were left screaming and yelling as they were caught outside amid the mad rush. The daughter was sobbing now, and the mother covered her eyes as she looked at the ramp nervously. Heart pounding. Breathe caught up in her chest and only let loose when the two familiar forms of the gruff man and Uncle Kell practically leapt aboard. Coming to sit across from them as the craft rose into the air. The last horror of the night being the hands of townsfolk gripping the ramps until the momentum of the craft caused them to plummet back to the dirt. Ramps and hatches sealed as the transports made for space and the awaiting convoy of starships.

Freighter Almeora Run

"Last transport is aboard with the civvies, we're all set Captain," said a Twi'Lek female manning a communications terminal. The captain, a Coruscanti male human, put a palm through dark brown hair, green eyes staring out into the void and the fertile planet below. "Set course for Coruscant. Have our ID tags ready for Imperial Customs."

"We lost a transport. Daath is gone."'

The Captain frowned, "We'll apportion funds to his funeral and send it to Corellia."

"These people better be worth it," mused the Twi'lek.

The Captain smirked, "Three hundred thousand credits. Practically everything those people had for a one way trip."

"Sir, we're ready for lightspeed, Juxpir and Kath'ran are also read--we got incoming!"

The two freighters next to the Almeora Run, smaller than their lead counterpart and six hundred meters each while the former was a full kilometer in length. Swung wide in evasive maneuvers as six Z-95 Headhunters roared between them.

"Lightspeed now!" roared the Captain. The bridge went dark. "What's going on?" The Twi'lek bridge crew at the communications terminal sprinted over to another terminal only to be met by black screen. "Must be ion lasers. We're in the dark. Emergency beacon still active on separate closed circuit."

The door to the bridge hissed open as a crew member in a brown jump suit came in, sweat on his brow, chest heaving, "We're being boarded!"

19.3 Light Years Away
ISD Moonshadow


The Moonshadow with its white dagger like superstructure glided silently over a dead moon. Prowling like some predator in an ancient long gone Coruscanti ocean. The bridge crew monitored their stations in a pair of pulpits with Ensigns and Junior Lieutenants peering over shoulders or double-checking work. Others like Senior Lieutenants, Warrant Officers, or those occupying senior duties aboard ship and posted to the bridge walked above the split pulpit. A pair of white armored Stormtroopers guarded the entrance to the bridge with silent vigilance. Silent activity was the mood and atmosphere of the bridge of this mighty warship as it moved slowly in orbit over the desolate moon below. Hopping from system to system in a long, circuitous, patrol chasing leads about pirates, partisan rebels, insurrectionist activity on fringe worlds of Imperial space. Not glamorous and no doubt to some the waste of resources in deploying a new Imperial Star Destroyer for such a task but that was a critique for the High Command than any present.

Alone, at the fore of the bridge, apparently admiring the view but in reality, zoning out into the star speckled blackness the captain of the mighty vessel looked on with still eyes. Thirty standard years of age. Long silk black hair with copper-tinged undertones and streaks tied up into bun at the back of her head. Service cap resting upon her head. Grey uniform was pressed and clean. Deep grey eyes looked out at the vastness of space. Her angular face and well-defined jaw would be considered attractive on many worlds. Indeed, her buxom figure would she have been born in a slave pen in Hutt Space would have net many Credits in a bidding auction. Fortunately, she had been born on Naboo. A much more civilized world as one might claim. Xira Belleclairon, Captain in the service of the Emperor's Navy.

A dull chime sounded from a terminal in the pulpit and the naval enlistee present tapped his screen while working several dials quickly. Squinting at the monitor. The chime having attracted the attention of that section's ensign who peered over the former's shoulder for a moment. Then stood stalk straight. "Captain." Said the ensign with hands behind his back.

Xira half turned to the younger man, only twenty-one and newly minted from Carida, "speak Ensign."

"We received a distress call. An automated beacon with I-Dent tags belonging to the freighter Almeora Run registered out of Corellia."

"They're far from home."

"Not all Mam'. Data-packet, likely from automated transcript, details attack by multiple armed craft above the world of..." the Ensign looked down at the screen for a moment, "Mer-Zhena XI. Just over nineteen light years away."

Xira paused, the name rang no bells, she was certain she had not even heard of such a planet. But it was relatively close to them and the most promising lead in days. After all it was something not gleaned by tiresome methods of ground surveys, shifting through station logs, or word of mouth reports. After a long moment Xira spoke quickly, "Set course and sound combat readiness throughout the ship. Ready boarding and possible ground deployment teams. All pilots prepare for combat launch." Returning to looking out the window she grumbled to herself, "Hopefully not another dead end."

Twenty-One Minutes Later

The Moonshadow dropped out of Hyperspace over Mer-Zhena XI like the sudden apparition of a ghostly juggernaut. Blinking into view as the mighty behemoth's sensors immediately picked up a trio of freighters and stellar debris. The debris being parts of the freighters blasted off the hulls in slowly expanding clouds.

"We have numerous life signs aboard the central freighter, Almeora. Other two are dead with no readings and significantly damaged," came the voice of one of the bridge crew glancing at a spectrum biosignature monitor. Xira looked about her at her other officers and rapidly dolled off orders,

"Deploy TIEs and launch boarding parties. Basilisk is to prioritize securing the bridge of the Almeora. Other boarding teams are to board or breach and sweep the ship of threats and secure civilians."
Last edited by Imperialisium on Tue Feb 20, 2024 5:06 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Scandoslavkostia
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Scandoslavkostia » Tue Feb 20, 2024 8:14 am

Footsteps cluttered the air of the TIE hanger bay. Engineer's fuel up a TIE Reaper and make sure the systems are up and running. Just then ten stormtroopers load on one by one shortly followed by another, their Sergent with his white pauldron removed for the mission. The Reaper's doors close and lock up, the engine begins to roar, the Sergent looks at his men and smacks his pristine white breastplate: "Troopers, show no fear, bring fear. We are the Empire, we are fear!" he ceases his shouting and turns to the pilot who is requesting clearance.
Last edited by Scandoslavkostia on Tue Feb 20, 2024 8:44 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Honghai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Tue Feb 20, 2024 11:17 am

Me'el'yssa, standing infront of a mirror, was in one of the many bathrooms on the Moonshadow. She had her helmet off - she'd always hated fucking wearing the damned things. The helm wasn't well-taken-care-of in more than one way, it was dull and dirty with white spots on it. It was faded. Parts of it seemed to be missing - well, they were missing - because Major Aslar'rti had torn and smashed her helmet many times over her career.

She was adjusting her long, brunette hair, combing it and making sure it'd looked nice.

Then, she'd make warfaces infront of the mirror - growling and holding her arms out, bent, like a rancor.

"Grrrrr.... raaaaahhhh.... I'm going to tear ya apart, Rebel scum..." She'd threaten.

Me'el'yssa, getting a little too caught up in what she was doing, would punch and smash the bathroom counter.

"That's whatcha get, fool! For the... Empire, I guess?" She barked, then her voice faded as she was unsure about the last part.

Me'el'yssa, though a Major and a Shadowstorm-trooper - didn't really care about the Empire and its hierarchy-based ideology. The Empire, well, just made a good outfit. They went around kicking ass and taking names - they'd terrorized villages with carte blanche, well, only because they'd controlled said village.

The Empire, to her, were essentially an overglorified Cartel.

And as the woman had hailed from Nal Hutta, she had fond memories of the Cartels and street gangs. She remembered beating up a Rodian for "looking at her funny," and beating the snot out of her, then taking all of the credits she'd had on her person.

Life was great then...

But, Life - despite officers barking orders at everyone, especialy Me'el'yssa - would still be great!

She'd knew it. And she knew she was gonna take no shit from a scruffy-looking nerdherder in a grey uniform.

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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Wed Feb 21, 2024 12:07 am

Imperial II Class ISD “Moonshadow”
Deck 34C, Stromtrooper barracks
Officer’s berths
Officer’s Country


Myran was already awake, taking the moment to enjoy the quiet start to his day with a cup of good recaff and his personal dataslate containing a good book. As she went about consuming the latest in a series of Coruscanti love novels he enjoyed so much his eyes picked up movement from his bunk, seeing the slim form of Lina, one of the unit's TIE bomber jocks, slip out and head for the shower. She blushed as she dashed for the bathroom and he smiled to himself.

His moment of reflection on the previous night’s events had only just begun when a chirp on his comlink snapped him back to reality. Tapping it, he spoke.

“Captain Dags, report.”

6 minutes later.

The large gray blast doors slid open to reveal the now fully uniformed Captain Dags enter the general quarters section of Basilisk company’s assigned barracks block and in a moment someone called out. “Officer on deck!” In a moment every person in sight snapped to attention. With a nod, he barked out order.

“We are on combat alert, full company muster in 10 minutes in briefing room 5C, full kit, gear set for EVA and boarding, lets go!” In a moment the room broke out in a flurry of movement as the combined 70ish troops dropped what they were doing and threw on their gear. Making his way through the room he made his way to the attached armory space located within the barracks and flashed his code cylinder at the Naval crewmen who nodded and reached behind him to one of the secure lockers, returning shortly with his duty holster and side arm.

“Have to say sir, haven't ever seen an IB-94 officer’s model before, beauty of a pistol you got there. Nearly as much range as an E-11, damn near as punchy as a DL-44 and more accurate than a DL-18.” Dags nodded, softening his face as he replied. “Oh yea, best purchase I ever made since getting my commission, served me well she has. I take it you fixed the resonance problem?” The naval armorer nodded. “Turns out it was just a bad buffer seal in the gas chamber, causing minute amounts of ambient atmosphere to leak in and upset the gas mix. Wasn't that it was even defective, just an old old rubber washer seal. I went ahead and had a new synthetic one fabricated in the ship’s machine shop, which should hold for another 15,000 shots at full power.”

Dags took up and affixed his duty holster, checking his weapon before securing on his hip. Next it was to the Company lockers to fit his own gear.

Hanger bay, Main

The plan was simple: 3rd Company, using the LAAT/Is assigned to them, would lift off and be escorted over by a set of TIEs to a secondary shuttle bay along the dorsal hull of the Almoera. Normally they’d be using proper shuttles, but those weren’t shielded, while their gunships were and the attackers most likely had fighters in play. Well, that and the 70 men detachment of the 1st-ISFR were considered a might bit more valuable than the average stormtroopers, who’d be riding along in more mundane TIE docking craft.

Standing with his platoon leads, Myran checked his gear one last time. He spoke with them as he did so. “Right, keep this clean and clear, Civis are possibly in play, be ready for non lethals, stun bolts, concussion and flash grenades, the like. If we can take whoever is in charge of this attack in custody it'll give us leads on to who’s operating out here…and it’ll look good on the skipper if we can bag a cell leader.”

One of his platoon leads, a Lieutenant, spoke up. “Any idea who we’re dealing with here, cap?” Dags shook his head while going over his A280, double checking the gas and power packs. “Not any idea, the brief I was given says it’s most likely pirates.” Slapping both packs back into place, he shook his head again. “Gut tells me differently, this convoy was decently armed, probably using mercs as padded defense. Whoever over ran them was packing heat and using tactics. Pass the word along, be ready to take prisoners, but don’t hesitate to put someone down if they want to be a problem.”

Letting his rifle hand on its sling, he finally removed his helmet from where it had been hanging on his belt, checked it once again, and slipped it over his head. Tapping it twice, one of hits subordinates checked his EVA seals and nodded.

“Coms check, all platoons, check in.’

“1st Platoon reads cap.”

“2nd Platoon hears you, loud and clear sir.” and so on and so forth. Speaking once again he’d address his men. “Alrighty then ladies and gents, here we go, I hope you all enjoyed your 6 weeks of RnR, got to see your folks, make some friends, enjoy some drinks, because we are back at it again. I’ve already briefed your Platoon and team leads, expect organized resistance and check fire for civilians. Take any prisoners that are compliant, if they resist, stun their ass.”

A series of affirmatives came from his men as he took the channel one last time. “Has anyone seen Major…ah hell, what was her name? She’s supposed to be riding with us. Someone get on the horn and have her report in.”

Across the ship’s internal speakers, a message would play. “Major Aslar'rti, report to Captain Dags in main hanger bay, repeat, Major Aslar'rti, report to Captain Dags in main hanger bay.
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Greater Rostoria
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Father Knows Best State

Postby Greater Rostoria » Wed Feb 21, 2024 4:10 am

Halcion Typho sat in front of a HoloNet Broadcaster within his Officer Quarter. He was comfortably sitting in a chair in his uniform with his service cap and rank insignia plaque put aside on a desk, he was watching an Imperial war movie filled to the brim with propaganda and Imperial messaging. Typho enjoyed watching Imperial media, it was a favourite pastime of his other than inspecting weapons systems and talking with his family back on Kuat. Ever since he was a young man it is something that brought happiness to his soul and reinforced his fervent loyalty to the Empire.

However his rest would be suddenly interrupted by the ship's combat readiness alarm blaring throughout every room, Typho sighed and quickly turned off his HoloNet and stood up from his chair. He reached for his Senior Lieutenant rank insignia plaque and attached it to the left side of his chest. For a moment Typho then turned himself towards the mirror in his room, he proudly stared at his rank, a symbol of his journey within the Imperial Navy. He rubbed his clean shaven face with his hands and pulled back his short brown yet slightly copper hair into its usual configuration. Once he was finished he reached for his service cap and gently placed it on his head, he took another good look at himself in the mirror before hastily making his way to the door.

As the door slid open and Typho stepped out, he adjusted his service cap and pulled down on his uniform, straightening it and then dusting off his shoulders as he looked both ways at the commotion around him. Typho began making his way to the bridge of the Moonshadow, moving past running stormtroopers and pilots as they geared up for the operation ahead. Typho made it to the TIE hangar area as Basilisk company was ushered into shuttles and TIE-pilots turned on their fighters, officers and crewmen rushing to their positions as Typho did the same. Typho was exceptionally efficient in running any ships weapon systems and management, like a god given talent he was at the top of the Kuat Naval Academy for Gunnery and even the Core Worlds, and thus assigned to the Moonshadow.

His job was overseeing the ships weaponry all the way from the 60 Turbolasers to the 8 Octuple Barbette Turbolasers, the latter of which he spent a lot of time managing and when the time would come personally command and fire them off. For now Typho would have to hold back on giving orders, instead he would walk up to an elevator to make his way to the Bridge. The grey sliding doors opened to reveal an empty shiny white elevator, to which Typho happily took it and quickly made it go up to avoid having others come inside.

Typho for a moment sat in silence inside the clean elevator, clearing his throat and rubbing his nose.

"One Nebulon, one GR-75, two Hammerheads." Typho began mumbling and listing off the names of enemy vessels that he credited himself with destroying, either by controlling the guns himself or commanding the gunner crews.

"One transport, three freighters, three pirates, and a five smuggler craft..." Typho paused for a moment, seeing the elevator halfway to his destination.

"Nine bombers and Fifteen...No, fourteen fighters." Typho corrected himself on his kill count, seeing the elevator almost arriving at his destination. He puffed up his chest to more prominently show his rank and hid away any emotion behind a cold stare.

Suddenly the door opened to the bridge, Typho walked out and past the two stormtroopers at the entrance as he then approached up to an ensign that was sitting and working at a terminal. He would ask the ensign for a brief rundown of the operation they were headed into and the orders of the Captain, to which he would get his answer and respond with a nod. Typho then approached the windows to get a better look at the Almeora, he would spot the feminine figure of the Captain standing at the very front of the bridge. He would approach from her left, and would be a total of 3 meters away from her as he looked out at the situation.

"I would suggest disabling or destroying their engines, a few low power shots from the front guns should be enough to prevent them from escaping." Typho calmly said towards the Captain, quickly glancing at her before turning back to the windows of the Star Destroyer.
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The Grand Economic Consortium
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby The Grand Economic Consortium » Wed Feb 21, 2024 6:17 am

Marcus Mendez sat in his quarters, inspecting his DG-29 heavy blaster pistol he captured from a Crimson Dawn gag member. He had served the Empire since he was old enough to enroll into the Academy for Young Imperials on Lothal, his home planet. Yet, now he was meditating upom the first time he dared question Imperial decisions and directives. 2 years ago, disgusted by what is code-named Project Stardust, he filed a complaint to his supervising officer, as he was and still is working for the ISBs Imperial Military Department of Advanced Weapons Research. In response to what they saw as an act of insubordonation, he was dismissed from the project and relocated from Scarif to the Star Destroyer he now serves on, the Moonshadow. It has been two full years since his dismissal from Project Stardust, where he was tasked with researching the feasibility of such a project, yet, his decision still posioned his mind. He was so close to being promoted, so close to becoming an important member of the lead research team, but filing that complaint destroyed all of his progress. He defied the same Empire he vowed to serve as soon as he enrolled in the Academy for Young Imperials. Now, he was most likely bound to his current position as ISB officer for life. Did he do the right thing? Perhaps. Did it cost a lot? Yes, most certainly.

Suddendly, his contemplation was interrupted by the Moonshadow's combat readiness alarm sounding. 21 minutes later, the ship shook slightly as it came out of hyperspace. He knew that something was up. The officer straightened his uniform, holstered his standard issue DH-17 blaster pistol and put on his hat, right before leaving his room and heading straight towards the bridge. As he walked down the corridors of the Star Destroyer, heading towards the turbolift, the man could not help but admire the immaculate architecture of the ship. A large number of bulkheads filling the walkways, with MSE series droids flooding the halls, chiming in their high-pitched language. Mendez had worked on droids of that class before, and knew their insides like the back of his hand. Throught his career in the Imperial Military Department of Advanced Weapons Research, he had the honour of experimenting with the latest technologies, testing new systems for the ships in the TIE series and flying a multitude of experimental starfighters, 90% of which were scrapped after the first tests. His lengthy track record as a hard-working a loyal person is what might have gotten him selected to work in the heart of Project Stardust on Scarif, but those times were gone. Mendez entered a turbolift and headed straight to the bridge.

He entered the chamber, prepared to be informed of what the situation consisted of. With a confident voicez he reported to the captain:

"Marcus Mendez, ISB, reporting to the bridge."
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Sarolandia
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Psychotic Dictatorship

Postby Sarolandia » Wed Feb 21, 2024 8:08 am

C1-17B, preferably known as "Seventeen" was in sleep mode in one of the ship's many droid bays. Seventeen quickly flared to life upon picking up the sound of the ship's alarm in his audio censors. He exited the droid bay through specialized swinging doors and was spat out into a hallway, nearly getting trampled by a stampede of stormtroopers led by a MSE droid. Seventeen angrily beeped at the troopers before charging after them, curiously following them to see what all the commotion was about.

After a few minutes of chasing, Seventeen ended up in one of the ship's hangars, and when the troopers did not stop there he continued to follow. Seventeen was beginning to get closer but as the troopers exited the hangar the doorway closed behind them, leading to Seventeen hitting his head on the door. He fell down backwards, struggling to get up for a moment before he realized he could maneuver his legs to stand back up. He did so and after recollecting himself, he began to wander around the hangar, looking in multiple directions by swiveling his head.
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Ovstylap
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Postby Ovstylap » Wed Feb 21, 2024 11:20 am

A burst of raucous laughter emerged from one of the tables in the middle of the room as one of the Warrant Officers rolled his fifth blue in a row and had to transfer a good few credits to those around him. "Having a bad day, hey Emphy?" jeered one his mates, clapping him on the back. Emphy muttered under his breath, this is exactly why he had promised himself he wouldn't gamble dozens of times. He turned and looked over at the man who sat reclined in a soft chair wearing a simple outfit of cargo pants and black jumper- clearly enjoying some off-duty time with a glass of some presumably non-alcoholic beverage, with a set of audio-pods in his ears.

"Jado." The man continued to listen to his audio book. Probably some docu-series about new developments in Imperial Doctrine informed by recent deployments, or some Coruscanti crime novel written by an out of touch failed businessman who didn't even know what the 'surface' of the planet looked like. "Jado." He said again, louder this time, and smirked as the man lifted an eyebrow. He jerked his head and the jumper-clad man obliged, removing an audio pod but holding it close to his head. "Why don't you join us for once? You're back on duty in another six minutes, you haven't even said hello." He rolled his eyes.
"I nodded at you when I came in, I'll be seeing you all later anyway. I believe Emphy owes us a round of drinks." The man in question palmed in face, remembering that bet as well.
"Is that a no?" He raised his eyebrow. Jado pursed his lips, then put the audio pods away, and stood. As he did so however, combat readiness alerts blurted out.

The man who had been listening raised his eyebrows and smirked. "I told you gambling isn't my thing. I'll see you later." He turned on a heel and left.

The other Warrant Officers grinned and dispersed, casually flipping off the Naval Chief Petties who were finishing their drinks in the red corner of the mess. "Go get your the insides of your white suits all mucky again!" One jeered back.

Jado's smile at the retort to his comrades dropped the moment the doors opened and he emerged into the hall way. He walked purposefully along the corridors, past four bulkheads, made way for a troop of stormtroopers, stood to attention as a senior officer passed, and made a left, right, and entered his quarters. He was undressing immediately, not rushing as his bunkmate finshed adorning his own uniform. "Alright Bite?"
"Fine as ever. Unlucky smugglers you reckon?"
"Wouldn't surprise me, nothing too fun. I won't bother donning my whites."
"Mm." Despite the readiness signal blaring there was no imminent danger from the lack of follow up details on the intercom. He folded his clothing properly, and stowed it away, before pausing for a moment. Just as his companion was about to leave, she picked up on a bit of internal chatter from the Cadre. "It's a boarding op. I'm in the wrong uniform, get yourself into an observing position, we might as well make one of us useful."

Jado nodded, and quickly dressed himself in his uniform and armour, carrying his helmet underneath. His bunkmate 'Red' as the others in the Cadre knew her, smiled as she departed. "I'm going to stalk my three ensigns and make them feel some unnecessary pressure."
He grinned. "You do that, you breathing down their necks will give them more fear than these over the top alarms everytime something small happens do." Helmet underarm, he followed 47 seconds later, and immediately made his way over to the main hangar bay. There was a group of old LAAT/Is over to the left, and a number of the ISFR lads were gathering over there. He walked over, calmly observing the hectic goings on around him. No. They weren't hectic. They were each individually doing practically what they should be doing, all of those hundreds of people moving around. But there was a complexity to it all, that was what the system was.

"I’ve already briefed your Platoon and team leads, expect organized resistance and check fire for civilians. Take any prisoners that are compliant, if they resist, stun their ass.” A Special Forces Officer finished briefing his men. When the man looked up after sending an intercom message, he went over and saluted. "Sir, WO Bite, I'll be going in with the regular contingent on the TIEs over there. We'll see you on the inside, might I ask permission to make my way onto the bridge as and when I am satisfied with what the searches on the rest of the vessel? I can see that it's a greener company being put on, since its a routine op but if I can get some first-hand HUMINT I'd like to."

He waited for the officer's response, nodding at one of the black-clad naval crewmen who was supervising the loading of some troopers onto a TIE boarding craft. He lifted a finger to say it would just be him. He turned back, giving the captain his full attention.

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Honghai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Wed Feb 21, 2024 12:26 pm

Parcia wrote:Imperial II Class ISD “Moonshadow”
Deck 34C, Stromtrooper barracks
Officer’s berths
Officer’s Country


Myran was already awake, taking the moment to enjoy the quiet start to his day with a cup of good recaff and his personal dataslate containing a good book. As she went about consuming the latest in a series of Coruscanti love novels he enjoyed so much his eyes picked up movement from his bunk, seeing the slim form of Lina, one of the unit's TIE bomber jocks, slip out and head for the shower. She blushed as she dashed for the bathroom and he smiled to himself.

His moment of reflection on the previous night’s events had only just begun when a chirp on his comlink snapped him back to reality. Tapping it, he spoke.

“Captain Dags, report.”

6 minutes later.

The large gray blast doors slid open to reveal the now fully uniformed Captain Dags enter the general quarters section of Basilisk company’s assigned barracks block and in a moment someone called out. “Officer on deck!” In a moment every person in sight snapped to attention. With a nod, he barked out order.

“We are on combat alert, full company muster in 10 minutes in briefing room 5C, full kit, gear set for EVA and boarding, lets go!” In a moment the room broke out in a flurry of movement as the combined 70ish troops dropped what they were doing and threw on their gear. Making his way through the room he made his way to the attached armory space located within the barracks and flashed his code cylinder at the Naval crewmen who nodded and reached behind him to one of the secure lockers, returning shortly with his duty holster and side arm.

“Have to say sir, haven't ever seen an IB-94 officer’s model before, beauty of a pistol you got there. Nearly as much range as an E-11, damn near as punchy as a DL-44 and more accurate than a DL-18.” Dags nodded, softening his face as he replied. “Oh yea, best purchase I ever made since getting my commission, served me well she has. I take it you fixed the resonance problem?” The naval armorer nodded. “Turns out it was just a bad buffer seal in the gas chamber, causing minute amounts of ambient atmosphere to leak in and upset the gas mix. Wasn't that it was even defective, just an old old rubber washer seal. I went ahead and had a new synthetic one fabricated in the ship’s machine shop, which should hold for another 15,000 shots at full power.”

Dags took up and affixed his duty holster, checking his weapon before securing on his hip. Next it was to the Company lockers to fit his own gear.

Hanger bay, Main

The plan was simple: 3rd Company, using the LAAT/Is assigned to them, would lift off and be escorted over by a set of TIEs to a secondary shuttle bay along the dorsal hull of the Almoera. Normally they’d be using proper shuttles, but those weren’t shielded, while their gunships were and the attackers most likely had fighters in play. Well, that and the 70 men detachment of the 1st-ISFR were considered a might bit more valuable than the average stormtroopers, who’d be riding along in more mundane TIE docking craft.

Standing with his platoon leads, Myran checked his gear one last time. He spoke with them as he did so. “Right, keep this clean and clear, Civis are possibly in play, be ready for non lethals, stun bolts, concussion and flash grenades, the like. If we can take whoever is in charge of this attack in custody it'll give us leads on to who’s operating out here…and it’ll look good on the skipper if we can bag a cell leader.”

One of his platoon leads, a Lieutenant, spoke up. “Any idea who we’re dealing with here, cap?” Dags shook his head while going over his A280, double checking the gas and power packs. “Not any idea, the brief I was given says it’s most likely pirates.” Slapping both packs back into place, he shook his head again. “Gut tells me differently, this convoy was decently armed, probably using mercs as padded defense. Whoever over ran them was packing heat and using tactics. Pass the word along, be ready to take prisoners, but don’t hesitate to put someone down if they want to be a problem.”

Letting his rifle hand on its sling, he finally removed his helmet from where it had been hanging on his belt, checked it once again, and slipped it over his head. Tapping it twice, one of hits subordinates checked his EVA seals and nodded.

“Coms check, all platoons, check in.’

“1st Platoon reads cap.”

“2nd Platoon hears you, loud and clear sir.” and so on and so forth. Speaking once again he’d address his men. “Alrighty then ladies and gents, here we go, I hope you all enjoyed your 6 weeks of RnR, got to see your folks, make some friends, enjoy some drinks, because we are back at it again. I’ve already briefed your Platoon and team leads, expect organized resistance and check fire for civilians. Take any prisoners that are compliant, if they resist, stun their ass.”

A series of affirmatives came from his men as he took the channel one last time. “Has anyone seen Major…ah hell, what was her name? She’s supposed to be riding with us. Someone get on the horn and have her report in.”

Across the ship’s internal speakers, a message would play. “Major Aslar'rti, report to Captain Dags in main hanger bay, repeat, Major Aslar'rti, report to Captain Dags in main hanger bay.


Me'el'yssa, upon hearing them page her, cussed -

"Ah, hell... whadda they want?" As she'd scrambled out of the bathroom.

Where even the fuck is the Main Hangar-bay... I can't be arsed to remember...

The woman had thought.

Major Aslar'rti had ran around the ship, looking all around - then accessing an elevator and heading downwards.

The shit must be down there... ain't my fault kriffs think everyone's supposed 'ta know whereta go...

She'd mused.

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Remnants
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Postby Remnants » Wed Feb 21, 2024 7:52 pm

Ijaat and his Mounted Section were working on their Z-74 Speeder Bikes in the vehicle bay. Ijaat was touching up his speeder, fixing some minor problems here and there. After getting the last bolt just right, Ijaat looked over it one last time before nodding with a prideful smile and stretching his barn mark a little.

He would then look at Priv and say, "Ay Priv, you do this all the time from that Dustball you call home." Priv would nod and reply, "Yes sir, I worked as an oil rat for the pod-racers in Tatoo-...." Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the whole ship. Ijaat yelled out, 'Well, come on, men! Gotta show these ladies how the 98th is the best in the Outer Rim!' He grabbed his helmet and put it on before jumping onto his speeder to slowly drive the Cargo Elevator that connects to the Hangar bay. After joining up with another Mounted Section from the 98th, they heard over the ship's internal speakers something about a Major Aslar'rt to the main Hangar bay. Someone is going to get a harsh scolding for being late, which sucks for them. Right after finishing that thought, he and the rest of the two Mounted Sections finally made it to the cargo elevator and were ready to go as it slowly went up to deliver a batch of AT-ST for transportation at Hanger Bay.
Last edited by Remnants on Wed Feb 21, 2024 7:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Remnants
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Postby Remnants » Wed Feb 21, 2024 7:55 pm

Honghai wrote:[quote="Parcia";p="41351318"[/b]


Me'el'yssa, upon hearing them page her, cussed -

"Ah, hell... whadda they want?" As she'd scrambled out of the bathroom.

Where even the fuck is the Main Hangar-bay... I can't be arsed to remember...

The woman had thought.

Major Aslar'rti had ran around the ship, looking all around - then accessing an elevator and heading downwards.

The shit must be down there... ain't my fault kriffs think everyone's supposed 'ta know whereta go...

She'd mused.[/quote]

Suddenly, the Major's helmet communication systems came to life with a crackle, and a voice said, "Hehehe looks like we found our lost Major, Sarg." The Sergeant felt a sense of disappointment and made a mental note to reprimand the Scout Trooper for disrespecting a superior. As he looked up, he saw a Shadowtrooper coming out of the elevator, looking angry and lost. Feeling sorry for the Shadowtrooper, the Major shouted out to her, despite the disapproving looks of his fellow 98th Scout Troopers. "Excuse me, ma'am, we're waiting for the cargo elevator to come down to pick up our two mounted sections! Don't worry, ma'am, the 98th Exploration Division has got your back!"
Last edited by Remnants on Thu Feb 22, 2024 7:34 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Honghai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Wed Feb 21, 2024 8:51 pm

Remnants wrote:
Suddenly, the Major's helmet communication systems came to life with a crackle, and a voice said, "Hehehe looks like we found our lost Major, Sarg." The Major felt a sense of disappointment and made a mental note to reprimand the Scout Trooper for disrespecting a superior. As he looked up, he saw a Shadowtrooper coming out of the elevator, looking angry and lost. Feeling sorry for the Shadowtrooper, the Major shouted out to her, despite the disapproving looks of his fellow 98th Scout Troopers. "Excuse me, ma'am, we're waiting for the cargo elevator to come down to pick up our two mounted sections! Don't worry, ma'am, the 98th Exploration Division has got your back!"


Me'el'yssa smiled at them.

"Huh... ain't all that bad." She said to herself.

Part of her was thinking a practical joke was being played on her - the cronies in grey uniforms called her up, only for her to search around - and then get greeted by people whose military career is based-on looking and searching for stuff.

Whatever, it was a happy coincendence - but she couldn't help but laugh internally at the idea she was being pranked somehow.

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Remnants
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Postby Remnants » Thu Feb 22, 2024 10:55 am

Honghai wrote:
Remnants wrote:talking


Me'el'yssa smiled at them.

"Huh... ain't all that bad." She said to herself.

Part of her was thinking a practical joke was being played on her - the cronies in grey uniforms called her up, only for her to search around - and then get greeted by people whose military career is based-on looking and searching for stuff.

Whatever, it was a happy coincendence - but she couldn't help but laugh internally at the idea she was being pranked somehow.


Ijaat heard another voice through his helmet's internal speaker. The voice exclaimed, "Hahaha, well, well... looks like the Sergeant is about to capture a Shadowtrooper." A few low whistles came through Ijaat's helmet internal comm from the other 98th Troopers. Ijaat sighed internally and removed his helmet to greet the Shadowtrooper properly. He smiled at the Shadowtrooper, scratching his burn scar before saying, "Hello, Ma'am. I am TB-697, the Mounted Section Sergeant of the 98th Exploration Division from 1st Battalion, 5th Company. So, whats a Shadowtrooper doing all the way down here and also are you in need of help ma'am?"
Last edited by Remnants on Thu Feb 22, 2024 2:53 pm, edited 4 times in total.

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Vadrana
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New York Times Democracy

Postby Vadrana » Thu Feb 22, 2024 1:18 pm

Ray was rushing to his Battle position, yelling to everyone that he saw reluctant enough to not rush to the battle to serve the empire or die as a traitor. He was an Officer sure, but he was a military police officer, a " glorified Cop " as many soldiers joke about, and he was fresh out of Carida accademy, he was nervous, but still he had to do his job.

He rushed to the TIE-fighters exit gates, where many were gatering to enter combat and started to spronate the other soldiers to fight and or join the fight, when he spotted a pair of soldiers and a droid that were standing. He immediately went to them and yelled " go get your positions and fight or are you too scared to fight cowards ? "

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Honghai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Thu Feb 22, 2024 8:00 pm

Remnants wrote:
Honghai wrote:
Me'el'yssa smiled at them.

"Huh... ain't all that bad." She said to herself.

Part of her was thinking a practical joke was being played on her - the cronies in grey uniforms called her up, only for her to search around - and then get greeted by people whose military career is based-on looking and searching for stuff.

Whatever, it was a happy coincendence - but she couldn't help but laugh internally at the idea she was being pranked somehow.


Ijaat heard another voice through his helmet's internal speaker. The voice exclaimed, "Hahaha, well, well... looks like the Sergeant is about to capture a Shadowtrooper." A few low whistles came through Ijaat's helmet internal comm from the other 98th Troopers. Ijaat sighed internally and removed his helmet to greet the Shadowtrooper properly. He smiled at the Shadowtrooper, scratching his burn scar before saying, "Hello, Ma'am. I am TB-697, the Mounted Section Sergeant of the 98th Exploration Division from 1st Battalion, 5th Company. So, whats a Shadowtrooper doing all the way down here and also are you in need of help ma'am?"


"'TB-' the fuck now? Don'tcha gotta real name? I'm 'ovah here 'cuz I got paged by some arrogant kark who'd thought it'd funny to play a joke on a Huttese woman like me. And yes, I do fuckin' need some help here - whaddo I look like, a Jawa or some shit?" Me'el'yssa turned her head sideways at him.

She had first liked to see the scout, but now - she'd felt slighted.

Her hands balled into fists, and she'd clench them - her anger rising to her.

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Parcia
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Postby Parcia » Thu Feb 22, 2024 10:17 pm

Main Hanger bay

Captain Dags was growing just a bit unpleasant with waiting for the Major. She'd find him standing next to the gunships, awaiting his newest charge.

Seeing the distinctive form of a set of shaddowtrooper armor from across the deck he raised his hand and waved. "Major, glad you finally decided to join us. Captain's assigned you to Basilisk for this op. She's placed you with me and my command element."

He'd be a rather strange sight compared to her, his gray katarn armor, modified Stormtrooper helmet and A280 rifle slung on a classic rifle sling. There was also his cape, to the floor, gray in color with a sigil of the Empire emblazoned on it.

“If you have your kit, mount up with me and mine, we're due to launch any moment now.”
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Remnants
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Postby Remnants » Fri Feb 23, 2024 8:58 am

Honghai wrote:
Remnants wrote:


"'TB-' the fuck now? Don'tcha gotta real name? I'm 'ovah here 'cuz I got paged by some arrogant kark who'd thought it'd funny to play a joke on a Huttese woman like me. And yes, I do fuckin' need some help here - whaddo I look like, a Jawa or some shit?" Me'el'yssa turned her head sideways at him.

She had first liked to see the scout, but now - she'd felt slighted.

Her hands balled into fists, and she'd clench them - her anger rising to her.


Some of the 98th Scout Troopers seemed to be reacting differently to the rude and threatening behavior of the Shadowtrooper. Some of them were ready to fight, while others were ready to step in if the situation escalated. Some moved to keep an eye out for Shock Troopers. Ijaat noticed the over-aggressive behavior of the Shadowtrooper, but he relaxed his smile before introducing himself. "Well, ma'am, I am Ijaat from the planet of Mondalore. Sorry for the long introduction, but I am just following imperial protocols." As he finished talking, he noticed a Gray Trooper yelling across the whole hanger in some type of modified gray trooper armor. He looked at the Shadowtrooper and the gray trooper put two and two together.

He nodded at the gray Trooper before saying to the Shadowtrooper, "Well, ma'am, it looks like the folks that called you are right over there. I have to get loaded up and debriefed, so I'll see you later, ma'am." After speaking, he pointed to the Gray trooper that was across the whole hanger, indicating who he was talking about.

Ijaat and the other sergeant signaled for their mounted section to load up in the transport.
Last edited by Remnants on Fri Feb 23, 2024 8:58 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Honghai
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Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Sat Feb 24, 2024 2:40 pm

Parcia wrote:Main Hanger bay

Captain Dags was growing just a bit unpleasant with waiting for the Major. She'd find him standing next to the gunships, awaiting his newest charge.

Seeing the distinctive form of a set of shaddowtrooper armor from across the deck he raised his hand and waved. "Major, glad you finally decided to join us. Captain's assigned you to Basilisk for this op. She's placed you with me and my command element."

He'd be a rather strange sight compared to her, his gray katarn armor, modified Stormtrooper helmet and A280 rifle slung on a classic rifle sling. There was also his cape, to the floor, gray in color with a sigil of the Empire emblazoned on it.

“If you have your kit, mount up with me and mine, we're due to launch any moment now.”


She reached towards her holster, feeling her standard-issue blasterpistol was still there, and the heft made her feel fully-formed. Without it, she didn't feel right. Me'el'yssa smiled at him.

"Yeah, uh.... I always keep it on me - but I had put my other weapons away..." Me'el'yssa hesitated to say the last part, as she'd hated to be vulnerable and have her belly open for someone to dissect - figuratively-speaking.

She had backed away from the man, and ran off to recollect the rest of her things.

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Kreigsreich of Iron
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Postby Kreigsreich of Iron » Sun Feb 25, 2024 8:36 am

Major Garrick von Stahl sighed as he sipped his car. It was his third pot of the day, but with his workload, he only got a few scattered hours of sleep per day. He had heard the announcement calling Major Aslar’rti to report to the main hangar bay. He duly opened up the file corresponding to the name, and read. His fellow major was a rebellious sort whose file was filled to the brim with countless minor infractions. He noted with slight amusement that the most recent was a noise complaint for trashy-talking her reflection. At this point, they might as well fold the Corps into personnel management and be done with it, he reflected. At least the pay was better, and planetside assignments weren’t so bad. However, on ISDs like Moonshadow, ISB took care of those sorts of things. It was odd, von Stahl contemplated, how with almost any other service branch, being named chief anything on a Star Destroyer was a symbol of prestige and a sign that the lucky chap was on the up-and-up. He shook himself from his reverie: there was work to be done, even though his shift was almost over. Without looking at one of the four decorations on his office wall, a calendar marking the days till retirement, he knew that he had only three years of service left to go. The only other attempts to personalise his office, a box of gray and black, were his law degree and Republic and Imperial bar certificates. Since the woman had managed to rack up quite a record in the few weeks since Moonshadow left berth, Garrick decided to assign a demerit. Two more such demerits, and a demotion would be in order. The task done, he moved to the next being. He glanced at his chrono. Quitting time.
Last edited by Kreigsreich of Iron on Sun Feb 25, 2024 4:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Honghai
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Postby Honghai » Sun Feb 25, 2024 12:22 pm

Now, Me'el'yssa had knew already where the lockers were - she was overfamiliar with that area, as she loved weapons; particularly that she could store them there.

But, in a way, it'd bothered her - as she'd grown up on Hutta, her Huttese ways were still with her all this time and on Hutta one'd quickly learned to have that thang with them - to have a blaster or vibroknife or some weapon always on her side.

And she was her own weapon - wrecking and smashing and tearing into things - but she'd still had carried her standard-issue blaster-pistol on her hip.

In the lockerroom, she'd reclaimed all of her things. But while she was doing so, she'd thought she'd heard something beep.

She hadn't really heard beeping in a long time, as she'd smashed the "guts" out of the finer workings of technology that would've been on her person or somewheres near her. But, she'd assumed the lockers were rebuilt and that, they had remade the systems that'd annoyingly beep.

Me'el'yssa quickdrew her blaster-pistol and shot the beeping mechanism to pieces, then rapidly slung the firearm on her hip and ran back.

She had to refamiliarize herself with the layout of the ship...

And it'd annoyed her, because she'd thought they were restructuring and fixing the ship all the time. She'd already known the Empire to be OBSESSED with Order...

And... it clashed with her rather abrasive and chaotic personality. Greatly so.

She looked all around, scanning the area, then she'd stopped holding her Shadowtrooper helm and put it on her head; just not tying her long brunette hair up.

But, the helmet was still damaged and dirtied.

She just put it on, as now she'd felt awkward. She was thinking more and more about the invasions of privacy. She'd thought back to when she was in the bathroom practicing her warface and then they'd summoned her to come on down to the Main Hangarbay.

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Imperialisium
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Postby Imperialisium » Mon Feb 26, 2024 2:00 am

Almeora Run
Bridge


Blaster bolts pocked walls and sparked piping where they struck. The zip and zaps of weapons fire filled halls and compartments as the crew of the Almeora, the only one of the three not to be overrun, fought to repel the boarders. The guerrillas had swiftly taken the hangars shortly after the civilian refugees had arrived and not all made it into the secure holds in the belly of the freighter. Sealed behind blast doors. Dozens of corpses littered the hangar and hallways. Crew and refugee alike as a running battle flared to life throughout the ship. The bridge itself was the scene of one such firefight as the crew engaged their assailants just before the bridge's blast doors. Firing from adjacent rooms and galleries the crew were putting up a valiant if doomed fight. As screams and cries signaled another one of their brethren crumpling to the floor. The smell of burnt flesh and smoking cauterized wounds filled the area with noxious fumes.

This is the Imperial Star Destroyer, Moonshadow, Almeora Run do you read? Over.

The communication terminal on the Almeora chirped to life. The Twi'lek and the Captain looked out the bridge viewports as the large capital ship, easily dwarfing the freighter, dropped out of hyperspace in front of them. A swarm of objects descending from its hangar. Squadrons of TIE fighters. The Z-95s peeled off with one passing by the viewports only to suddenly combust as green bolts flashed from the blackness to strike the craft. The roar of TIE fighters following as the Imperial pilots drove the five remaining Z-95s away from the convoy.

While another swarm, smaller, descended and approached ominously. Imperial LAATs, a Lambda, and six Delta-class Troop transports approached and in a series of maneuvers the Deltas affixed themselves to hatches while the LAATs and Lambda made for the hangar. A squad of Guerrillas coming into view with a trio manning a rocket launcher only to vanish into atoms as the Lamba opened up with its twin-linked shoulder mounted laser cannons. The Lambda swung smoothly as its ramp lowered and like those emerging from the LAATs the troopers inside jumped the foot or so to the hangar floor smoothly. Their weapons firing as soon as they touched the smooth hangar floor with their boots. Their bodies hunching as they aimed their weapons and opened up with coordinated suppressive fire. One, two, three, four, five more guerrillas crumpled to the floor with smoking blaster wounds in their bodies.

ISD Moonshadow Bridge
Captain Xira Belleclairon


Captain Belleclairon watched from the bridge as her TIEs scoured the Z-95s back towards the planet while the boarding teams docked. An ensign brought up a cup of recaf and she took it with a nod. Taking a sip, she glanced back at her bridge crew, "Get me information on who captains these freighters. If they're alive I would very much like to speak with them."
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Cilicia-Antioch
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Postby Cilicia-Antioch » Mon Feb 26, 2024 5:00 pm

ISD Moonshadow Bridge
Flight Operations

"Bandit down" the unmistakable voice of Alpha 2 called in. "Bandit down, repeat, bandit down". Second Lieutenant Tathia was standing in the middle of the flight operations as she listened into wing comms on her headset, the ratings all attending their stations and supporting their squadrons. There was no chatter, no distraction for any single one of them - just laser focus concentration from each flight controller who were at their station, analysing and reading the sensor data coming and providng the needed guidance and information to their assigned squadrons. Everything that they said was to their squadrons over comms and their eyes never left the gaze of their com-scan monitor, aside from the occassional moment when they turned either to their or her commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Rhodanos Amalii.

The fact that Alpha 2 called it in on the wing frequency indicated small though not unjustified sense of vainglory. It was usually down to them to pass information to their Flight Controller, then for them to pass on the information to her, then her to Rhodanos. Of course, obviously important information could be shouted directly to him, and the odd brave flight controller has in the past piped up something to the Captain. For the most part, the flight operations deck was a highly capable one, the more experienced flight controllers mentoring those on their first posting. It was not one of the easier specialisations in the Imperial Navy, even taking into account the typical personality of an Imperial Starfighter Corps pilot and there was a lot of stake if something went wrong.

Slowness and inattentiveness could result in the loss of pilots, something a bit closer to home Tathia. For instance, Stormtroopers died everyday on far-off worlds. Whilst the odd ape was fun company when they weren't eating their own crayons, such was the life of a stormtrooper and she didn't see enough of them often enough, aside from the ones on a guard duty. She would not really be fussed if the boarding was particularly bloody - it's what they trained for. Now a TIE pilot is someone she might see every other day and someone she took responsibility for when general quarters was sounded. Even the loss of one was grave, particularly if they were minded to blame 'Control' - the dead TIE pilot might not be there to see her, but their squadmates would be, as well as Rhodanos, who would have the soul destroying task of writing to the deceased's family. Tathia glanced at a console of the Flight Controller she was standing behind, the one who happened to be responsible for the TIE fighter squadron designated Alpha. Indeed, a light did blip out a small bit of time after Alpha 2 had called it in.

"Alpha 2, this is Control. Confirmation of bandit dead, good kill" she replied, taking care to add in a brief courtesy compliment. "Z-95 Headhunter squadron is dispersing towards the planet. Alpha Squadron, the parameters of this mission enable you to seek and destroy, that is seek and destroy. Show no mercy in the name of the Emperor".

Rhodanos appeared to hear something the Captain bellowed as he moved towards her, standing by her, a half-smile in his face. Uncannily calm and unfazed for someone who was serving when the Empire was still the Republic, he had asked her to come along with him to this new posting. Rhodanos had been a helpful figure in her career, someone willing to ensure the advancement of all those who served under him the best he can. For a starfighter pilot, he was far more than tolerable company. Perhaps the fact he rarely flew and wisely kept his engagements professional with the serving pilots could perhaps be reason Tathia thought in a flippant, joking manner, a couple of seconds of humour to keep her grounded before getting herself back into the game.

"Alpha and Zeta squadrons" he said via his headset on comms, checking the comscan monitor to see the nearest TIE fighter squadrons to the Z-95s. "You are to maintain pursuit of the five remaining bandits. Delta 1, 2 and 3, accompany a bit behind - Control will monitor the bandits' trajectory. Should they manage to flee out of range of our sensors, we will send coordinates for you to sensor ping. They are heading towards the planet, do not let them enter atmosphere. We do not need this to be complicated, they obviously have something to return to - let's make sure they don't get there". If they did that would obviously necessitate discretion on his part as to whether to continue to pursuit. The TIE fighters could engage in atmospherical pursuit, but it was something he would like to avoid if possible. Too many unknowns, and in an ideal world the TIEs would had been specifically prepared for atmospherical flight, as opposed to the more generalised albeit space-focused preparation.

There was a small case to let one or two away, so that they could be followed, but that was outweighed by the fact a boarding mission would likely result in the recovery of the needed information, electronically or through sentient intelligence - the ISB would make sure all information was recovered. Rhodanos did not even briefly mull it over - it was a scenario he had dealt with enough times to know the best course of action. Alpha 1 and Zeta 1 radioed in affirmatives and their blips started moving away from the Moonshadow, with Delta 1 in her TIE Scout calling in a bit after and following behind. 24 TIEs versus 5 Z-95s was more than generous odds.

"Now Lieutenant Tathia, Captain Belleclairon has asked the bridge find out who the Captain of freighter ship is" he said with his wry smile. "Let's beat electronic warfare to the chase shall we? Switch to Gamma Squadron's frequency, instruct them to do a fly-by and scan the ship - ship name, registered port, owner. Perhaps if we're lucky they will have Captain's name on the registry". He then turned his head and shouted at the Captain, relaying the events as they had and were going to occur "Captain, one bandit down, TIE fighters remain in pursuit of the remainder heading towards the planet. Parameters for enemy bandits remain seek and destroy. Scanning fly-by of the freighter in progress, stand by".

At the same time, Tathia switched to Gamma Squadron's comms. "Gamma, this is Control" she said. "Instructions are for one of you to perform a thorough scanning fly-by of the freighter. Captain is quite interested in the ship's details, and we'd quite like to beat the scanners in electronic warfare to the chase. Don't disappoint". The comms were silent for a few seconds, until voice piped up.

"This is Gamma 1, copy Control, we certainly can't let electronic warfare chalk up a win" he replied, with the usual carefress humour of a TIE pilot. "Hey Gamma 7, you're nearest to the freighter, can you do a quick scan? Nice and thorough, like the Captain asked".

"Gamma 1, considered it done" Gamma 7 replied. A few seconds of silence then ensued, before she piped up. "Hey Control, we got a bit of traffic - looks like our boarders are about to proceed. A nice roar of a TIE fighter to announce their reckoning". At that point, Tathia switched off Gamma Squadron's frequency back to the Wing's. She looked at the flight controller responsible for the squadron, hailing him verbally.

"Gamma 7 needs to keep communications short and succinct. Make a note of it, and don't hesitate to give her a verbal reminder if need by. I'll speak to her after debriefing" she said. She and Amalii turned to look at each other at that very moment. Amalii's interaction with the Captain was far more brief than her one. Knowing Amalii he would filled the void by congratulating the wing on comms, instructing them to form a fighter screen and maintain proximity to the freighter. Gamma's buzzing should give the freighter a continuous reminder that they were here he would have determined.

"Trouble?" he asked. To anyone else it would seem like an attempt to engage in casual conversation, though knowing Amalii he was waiting for confirmation for one thing.

"Dealt with" Tathia said, the answer Amalii wanted to hear. One of the flight controllers, the one assigned to the TIE bomber squadron, designated Beta, called on Tathia and Tathia went to attend. Unlikely that they would be needed, but deck had quickly equipped them with anti-starfighter multi-lock missiles - there were more than enough TIE fighters for them to be used in this manner - though none were able to get close enough to the Z-95s to actually use them. In a pinch, they could be repurposed for, say, a strike on the engines should the terrorists resolve the ion stun, take the bridge,decide the freighter should make a move and the tractor beam needed a bit of time, though no telling for absolute certainty how strong the shields on the freighter were, if the engines were unstable - too many variables that could result in unneeded casualties, irreversible damage or even total destruction, hence why the Captain likely ordered a boarding operation.

Once Beta was attended to - a slight malfunction on Beta 4, who requested permission to return for quick repairs that would see them out again quickly - Tathia took a bit of initiative, keeping the boarding parties up-to-date. She switched to the frequency for their pilots and unit leaders. "Boarding team, this is Flight Ops. TIE squadrons have driven away all enemy bandits but one. Said bandit is several specks of dust in vacuum, so that's 5 are being pursued, 1 confirmed kill. Expect a pleasant return voyage. If Communications have not relayed this then a small head' up to you - Captain Belleclairon wants the safe recovery of the freighter Captain. We're working on identifying them beforehand. If we have an update we'll let you know. And also, there will be no bomber strikes - don't want any friendly fire, or to fry the civies. Stay safe".

Tathia looked around, flight operations still in motion. A clinical, well oiled machine. She glanced at Amalii, who was speaking to the 312th's assigned Intelligence Officer at - presumably, he had instructed her to go through the ship informations and try and identify the ship Captain. She caught the tail-end of it, which was on a whole other matter.

"And make sure Intelligence gets me information on this planet - weather patterns, climate, the usual geographical information - but also any reports of pirate or terrorist activity. If I have to decide whether our Fighters are going into atmosphere I want to know as much as possible to make that decision. And if the Captain decides they should before I do, I'd like to help her make an informed decision with all the information at hand". The Intelligence Officer saluted and spoke on his comms, presumably to the rest of Moonshadow's Naval Intelligence, before Amalii spoke up again. "And there's no shame in asking the ship's ISB for information, if it helps. Occassionally they do help military intelligence". A small joke, to ease a small amount of tension.

A salute, and the Intelligence Officer spoke onto his comms, checking in seemingly with ship intelligence and the ISB. Tathia only had a few seconds to mull on his, before another flight controller demanded her attention.
Last edited by Cilicia-Antioch on Wed Feb 28, 2024 5:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Parcia
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Founded: Feb 11, 2016
Democratic Socialists

Postby Parcia » Fri Mar 08, 2024 1:13 pm

Captain Dags

They were out in a single moment, all 70 troopers hit the deck, weapons at the ready as they fanned out and secured the hanger bay before rapidly advancing for the doors.

Stacking up with his men, he patted the stack lead on the shoulder as the tech specialist from 2nd squad bypassed the door controls and forced them open.

Red blaster fire lanced down the hallways towards the advancing imperials and for a moment they paused before Dags gave the order. In a moment, a barrage of suppressing fire flew back down the hall at the guerillas as two troopers, each sporting a DLT-19 repeater, dove for the deck and provided cover for Dags, his men, and the rest of the troopers cover to advance under.
So apparently Cobalt has named me a Cyber terrorist, I honestly don't know to be Honored or offended.
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Honghai
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Posts: 968
Founded: Dec 31, 2021
Moralistic Democracy

Postby Honghai » Sun Mar 10, 2024 5:15 pm

Parcia wrote: Captain Dags

They were out in a single moment, all 70 troopers hit the deck, weapons at the ready as they fanned out and secured the hanger bay before rapidly advancing for the doors.

Stacking up with his men, he patted the stack lead on the shoulder as the tech specialist from 2nd squad bypassed the door controls and forced them open.

Red blaster fire lanced down the hallways towards the advancing imperials and for a moment they paused before Dags gave the order. In a moment, a barrage of suppressing fire flew back down the hall at the guerillas as two troopers, each sporting a DLT-19 repeater, dove for the deck and provided cover for Dags, his men, and the rest of the troopers cover to advance under.


Me'el'yssa, having stuck with Dags and the scouttroopers despite having to grab her weaponry, would growl.

She bashed the wall, not liking to stay hidden. She still wore her damaged Shadowstorm-trooper helmet. She got up, taking out her vibroblade and running forwards into the fray to slice and dice into the guerillas.

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Mediama
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Founded: Jun 20, 2017
New York Times Democracy

Postby Mediama » Fri Mar 15, 2024 12:04 pm

Ensign Nadnelé Linn
Lambda-Class Shuttle Sicario


Breathe in, breathe out the Nubian medical officer thought to herself as she preped the equipment on board the shuttle. Originally she had been posted in the Moonshadow's medical bay, but since the call for general quarters, the medical lead had ordered her to set up triage in one of the shuttles slated for boarding, in preparation for the casualties they were most certainly going to take.

She had borded with the other stormtrooper medics and imperial naval surgeons. Unlike her stormtrooper compatriots though, she sported a grew jumpsuit, black boots, but similar white stomtrooper chest plating, shoulder pads, knee pads, and elbow pads, all marked in green and red signifying her as medical personnel. Currently she sported a white imperial officer cap, but if things ever got hot, she had the standard open-faced helmet with goggles that her fellow imperial officers had.

Before they boarded, she looked over to one of the scout troopers, Lessili Tess. At first glance, one have thought she looked to be a normal scout trooper, with the only exception being the black pauldron. Though Linn knew her as being one of the scout trooper medics attached to the recon division. She gave her fellow Nubian a shy nod and mouthed 'good luck', before heading to her spot on the shuttle.

From there she had spent most of the flight prepping triage with the other naval surgical personnel.

As the ramp opened and they recieved blaster fire, Linn stood back and took cover as the troopers dismounted. For now, things were out of her hands. She silently prayed to herself that everyone would come home alive, and that she could help as many people as she could.
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