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Topic:  Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
Atrasin
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Atrasin
 
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
 
Post Number:  620
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  Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 12, 2009 12:18:00 AM    View the profile of Atrasin 
Geordi was bored.  He was quite possible more bored than he’d ever been in his adult life.  Things had been relatively quite for Nazgul of late.  No major missions.  No minor missions.  No one trying to kill him.  No nothing. 

I miss being shot at

  In the half a heartbeat it took for him to think that he realized how messed up it was.  He’d gotten used to being in the crossfire.  Since joining Nazgul he’d not known many peaceful days.  Then again, too many peaceful days lead to the maddening ennui that had washed over him of late.

  Yulia was busy with her own work and the Nazzies were on Leave.  The nest was empty and quiet.  He couldn’t even find someone to drink the Green Stuff with.  He’d tried to get Rougeboy and General Rizzit to join him, but after that last GS bender they pulled the two of them kept begging off.

  So much for Corps toughness

  He’d painted, cleaned, and fine tuned his new TIE/Adv until she purred.  He’d written every report he’d been late on.  He’d even gone so far as to actually do the required reading for his Officer’s boards. 

  Bedav had things running nicely on Ator.  The House was pulling more profit than ever before, and keeping the VE in funds for her current building efforts.  He’d even had time to go out and get engaged.  Nice girl that Dharxi…what she saw in his brother, he’d never know.

  He’d strolled damn near every inch of the Atrus’s decks and poked his nose in several places he shouldn’t have.  His natural curiosity would be his downfall, and he knew it.  So, here he sat…eyes glazing and slipping further and further into…

Ping

  Snapping too, G jabbed the comm button, “Atrasin here.”

  “Ensign, this is Dr. Aychan.  Could you please come to Sick Bay 119?”

  “On my way Doctor.”

  What the hells does he want

  The walk to the Sickbay was relatively short, on an SSD the size of the Atrus anything under an hour is considered short, and uneventful.  Driver entered the reception area and was ushered into the Doctor’s office by an overly officious droid.  Behind the desk sat an impeccably uniformed Zeltron. 

  “Ensign Atrasin, I am Dr. Tedero Aychan. Please be seated.”

  Driver eased himself into the nearest chair and had the faintest feeling of being called into the principal’s office…not that that had ever happened to him.

  “Don’t worry Ensign, you’re not in trouble or sick.”

  G was almost going to ask how he knew what he was thinking, but then he remembered that Zeltrons were empathic.  Now, his curiosity was piqued.  Why WAS he here?

  “I’ll cut to the chase; I called you here to discuss SCRW Darian Rogue.”

  He’s a shrink

  “SCRW Rogue has completed his rehabilitation and is currently cleared to return to duty, but there is a snag, “he stated looking down at his datapa

  “What’s that Doctor?”

  “You.”

“Me, why am I a snag?”

  “It seems that SCRW Rogue is fairly frightened of you.  Care to elaborate on that?”

  Good, least someone is

  “This in NOT a joke Ensign, this is about a very expensively trained pilot afraid to do his job because of his commander.”

  “’Sorry sir – G checked the Zeltron’s insignia, yep, Captain – not to be flippant, but they are all somewhat afraid of me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’ve given them reasons to be.”

  The doctor steepled his fingers and gazed hard at G, “And why, exactly, would you do that?”

  “To keep them alive.”

  “Interesting, care to share this theory with me?”

  Driver shifted his weight in the chair and began, “Well, sir, I’ve seen way too many times when the SC of an outfit gets chummy with his crew.  They get soft in discipline and lose focus, and in my line of work if you lose focus, you’re dead.  I keep them on a razor’s edge, we’re tense and tight, but we’re also the best.  If they are frightened of me, and sometimes even a little pissed at me, then so be it.  At least their alive to do so.”

  The Zeltron closed his eyes for a moment, sighed and sat back in his own chair.

  “Not the most modern of philosophies, Ensign.”

“No sir, but I’m an old-fashioned guy.  If it worked for Palpatine, works for me.”

  “But you see where it got him, “countered the shrink.

  “Yes sir, the ruler of the known Galaxy.  I also know where his loss of focus got him.”

“Where was that?”

  “Dead, sir.  Now, with all due respect, I do have a Squadron to run.  Are we done analyzing me, or do I need to cry for you and tell you I was in love with my mother?”

  “We’re done, for now.  I will release SCRW Rogue for active duty; just try not to break him again.”

  “I didn’t break him the last time sir, it was a Trandoshan…and he won’t be an issue.”

  “Very well, dismissed.”

  G snapped too, and turned smartly on his heels, eager to be out of the lavender skinned doc’s sight.  He hated shrinks, almost as much as he hated Rebs and Atoran Ice Wasps.  The walk back to his office took even less time than the previous trip out.  He was now in one of his trademarked foul moods.  Unluckily for him DR was there to receive it.  The pilot snapped to attention when Driver walked in the room.  The look of unease hung on him like a cheap suit.  Driver picked up the datapad and stabbed in his codes.  The reactivation orders were there, and in order.  He glared at the man sweating before him, stood, and walked around the desk to his side.

  “Are you done being crazy Mr. Rogue?” he growled.

  The young man audibly gulped and stammered, a meek, “Yessir”.

  “Good, cuz this outfit is only requisitioned one lunatic, and I’m it…understood?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Fine, you’re back in your old slot and Slasher is your wing.  Try not to get him killed.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Good.  Now stop calling me sir and take a damn drink.” He growled mirthfully as he slammed two glasses on the desk and pulled out the Green Stuff.

  The tension ebbed out of the young man as he took the offered glass and cautiously sipped at the neon liquid.  He knew what it would do, and he knew how much he would regret it later.  As G slugged back his first glass and poured his second, DR reached into one of his leg pouches and produced another datapad.

  “What’s this?” asked his SC.

  “It’s from Captain Denethor.  He wanted me to personally deliver it to you today.”

  “O-kaaay, gimme.” He took the device from DR and thumbed in his codes.  The pad spat out its information in a steady stream.  G’s brow knit for a moment, then softened into a smirk.

  “Everything OK sir?”

  “Yes indeed, DR, yes indeed.  We’ve got some work to do.  Go see the Chief and get yourself set up in a ship.  Tell him to dust off the rest as well; Nazgul’s got some hunting to do.”

  “Yessir.” He slammed back the drink, shuddered briefly and zipped out of the room.

  Driver opened his main desk comm unit and logged in an All-Nazgul channel.  “Attention all Nazguls:  All leaves are canceled.  Report back to the Atrus ASAP.  Driver out.”

  G cut the line and smiled no more boredom.  Someone was gonna be shooting at him soon, and it gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling.

  Humph, maybe I am crazy

  He just smiled and smiled as he headed for the hangar.


OOC:
OK, Nazguls the Vacation is over. You've got 48 hours to get your sorry hides back to the Atrus and into fighting focus.  I don't care how you get here. just do.  I will begin moving the story along on Monday.  If you are not here, then i will just have to ship you off to the garbage scows.  Driver out.
SC|ESN Geordi "Driver" Atrasin/Nazgul 1-1/mSSD Atrus/1VENF/VEN/VE/[=A=][=^SA^=][=^ME^=][=*MA*=][=FOCE=][MC1]{BWC}[NSR:1]{SAS}{SWC}
Vacuus Ordo, Nex  -Without Order, Death
All a man can betray is his conscience. - Joseph Conrad
We few, we happy few. We band of brothers. - Henry V
May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't. - General George S. Patton Jr.
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[This message has been edited by Atrasin (edited September 12, 2009 1:02:34 PM)]
Hunter-Morrell
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[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
[VE-VEEC] Word Slinger
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 12, 2009 6:33:24 PM    View the profile of Hunter-Morrell 
Muttering curses, Hunter made his way across the decks on the Reaver, his CR-40 Consular-class Cruiser, heading towards the bridge. The Reaver was currently docked on Abrae and would be for quite a while apparently. He had last departed his beloved ship with high hopes for Nazgul had received a mission, but those hopes had been dashed not long after. En route to the drop-off point, the VSD Relentless, on which they had been hitching a ride, had been ambushed and attacked. In the face of overwhelming odds, they had been forced to make a tactical retreat. Hightailing it back to Abrae, the Relentless was now undergoing extensive repairs to erase the damage that the ambush had caused.  Nazgul had went back to shore leave and, as it had been before, another period of extreme boredom. Hunter was a captain that genuinely liked his crew and didn't want to call them off of the shore leave that they so rightly deserved just so he could have a cure for his boredom. As much as it pained him, he was just going to have to endure it until they received new mission orders. Sighing, he stepped onto the bridge and stopped, looking around in surprise at the bridge officers that were lounging around, receiving the same look in turn. Hunter just quirked a smile and laughed a bit, which the officers had apparently been waiting for because the gentle murmer of chatter began anew.

“I figured you guys would be off board enjoying yourselves.” Hunter said.

“We would of, but we missed the familiarity of the ship, so we came back.” one of the officers nearest to him offered up.

Nodding, he turned and walked around, planning on just walking around and doing a general patrol. Before he knew it, he had ended up at his own quarters. Pressing his palm to the door pad, he opened up the steel doors and slipped in. He paused for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He had never liked bright surroundings, instead choosing to stay in the dark which was why his role as a pilot suited him so much. When he could see, he began to clean up a bit so that he wouldn't trip over an spare blaster or datapad that just happened to be lying in his path. He had just took his comm off of his belt loop and set it on his desk when it rang. Jumping slightly, he grabbed and fumbled with the controls. When he finally turned it on, Atrasin's voice issued from the small speaker.

“Attention all Nazguls: All leaves are canceled. Report back to the Atrus ASAP. Driver out.”

One eyebrow shot up as the startling news sunk in.

There is nothing other than a mission that would warrant us to report to the Atrus ASAP. Nothing. Which means that my boredom will soon be cured. Booyah.

Grinning, he scrounged around for all the stuff he normally carried on a mission and strapped, snapped, or hooked it onto himself. His mood had just shot upwards and he was literally jittery with excitement. As soon as he finished getting up all his stuff, he shot out the door and took off towards the hangar at a dead run. He got many quizzical looks as he passed some of his crewmembers, but he ignored them. He was in his own little world, complete with fantasies about the dogfighting and explosions that were sure to come, especially the explosions. Rounding a corner, he bolted into the hangar and literally hurdled a small vehicle that was moving too slowly to get out of his way. He neared the hangar chief and slowed down.

“I'm taking my Besu'liik fighter out. I won't be back for a while. Nazgul has a new mission.” he managed to get out between breathes.

The chief just nodded and waved him off. Hunter turned and ran towards the Besu'liik fighter, a newly purchased fighter which he had yet to try out.

This is going to be good. I know all the technical specifications, but I don't know how it operates. I suspect I'm going to approve.

With a grin that rivaled the one that had appeared on his face when he found out about the new mission, he hopped into the cockpit and lifted off. With a whoop of joy, he maneuvered out the hangar and sped off towards the Atrus.

OOC:
WC: 747
Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell
XO/MCPO Hunter-Morrell/Nazgul 5/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE [CBV][BRC][BWC][MC:1]
[This message has been edited by Hunter-Morrell (edited September 12, 2009 6:34:23 PM)]
DarianRogue
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DarianRogue
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 13, 2009 9:05:15 PM    View the profile of DarianRogue 
How did Darian get to the hangar?  He remembered very clearly the conversation with Driver, as if it had just happened.  But anything and everything after that was a complete and total blank.  Not just fuzzy.  Blank.  The memory simply didn’t exist.

“Darian.  Your fighter is ready.”
“Huh?”
Right in front of him was the face of the Chief of the Deck.
“You asked me to get a fighter ready for you.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”

I can’t even remember a conversation I had, Darian thought.  It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes ago.  Do I have short term memory loss, all of a sudden?  No, that wouldn’t make sense; I remember the conversation with G very well.  Oh whatever, I’ll worry about that later.

“Oh.  Then, thanks.  Did I ask you to get some ready for the rest of Nazgul?”
“Oh, you did, but I must’ve forgotten.”
“Well, please do that, Nazgul has a new mission on its hands.”
“Will do, Darian.”

Darian still couldn’t believe he couldn’t remember how he got to the hangar, or the conversation with the Chief.  Must be the Green Stuff.  Why did I even have that?  Like I said when I first got to Nazgul, I have had problems with edible green things.  Not that this stuff is bad.”

Darian decided to get inside the Tie Interceptor until the rest of the squadron got to the hangar.  Once inside, he thought, [i]Oh, it’s been too long since I’ve been in one of these.
  Darian re-familiarized himself with how to pilot one of these things.  He put his palms in their respective places, his right thumb on the cannon button, his left thumb on the missile button.  He imagined he was in a dogfight, just barely pressing buttons, flipping switches randomly, turning knobs.  It’s good to be back.  He didn’t even know how long he had been doing it.  Then…

When did I leave the TIE?

“Did you hear me Darian?”
“What?”
“I said the rest of the Interceptors are done.”
“Oh.  Good.”

It had happened again.  He didn’t remember things that couldn’t have happened too long ago.  Damn, I really shouldn’t have had that Green Stuff!  Then he just stood, waiting for Nazgul.

OOC:
370 words.  Sorry it’s short, but I had a loss of inspiration, and I wasn’t gonna complete it on time if I waited.
Nazgul 1-4.
FM/SCRW Darian Rogue/Nazgul 1-4/Phoenix Wing/Executor Class SSD Atrus : SCAP/1Flt/VEN/VE (=A=)

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Drac
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Drac
 
[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 14, 2009 11:56:16 AM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac was pacing, something he often did when uncomfortable. He really couldn’t help it, since the cause of this uneasy mood was all around him. It was, in fact the very uniform he wore and the very ship whose bridge he stood on: a heavily modified HT-2200 Medium Freighter called Keelkana. The ship’s holds had been modified to hold berths, weapons, and more than a squadron of starfighters, while the engines and hulls had also been upgraded to change a freighter into a respectable light cruiser. The uniform was highly ceremonial, but very practical. It merged an officer’s style and decorations with the purely functional grace of a titan kantrey breastplate and shoulder paldrons.

Beyond just this one ship a whole other set of reasons exposed themselves in the forms of another half a dozen small warships. They varied from Imperial Customs Frigates to Ye-4 Gunboats and even a Gozanti Cruiser. It was a fleet, albeit a small one, and it was his. That fact, more than anything, was what unsettled the young Mon Calamari. He was used to ships that were quite a bit smaller than these.

At the moment the small fleet, flying identification beacons that identified them as being an independent security force, floated peacefully in an uninhabited system just a few parsecs from Dac. Though he technically owned all these ships, Drac would be the first to say- in appropriate company- that they weren’t really his. The Council of the Mon Calamari Knights had commissioned the creation of the fleet and had given him the funds to purchase and crew the ships.

But now there was a problem. The creation of the fleet had gone smoothly, due mostly to the ambush Nazgul had run into on their way to their last mission. That was the first time Drac could remember not completing a mission, but there was truly no choice in the face of the odds they’d confronted. It had, however, allowed him to go back on Leave. That extended period away from the VE had allowed him to assemble his fleet, but presented a new problem: the Council had no idea what to do with this new force. For that matter, a faction on the Council had not been pleased with its commissioning in the first place. From what he’d heard that faction was now causing even more controversy, taking advantage of the general uncertainty about the fleet. So the fleet had been ordered to an out of the way system to await further news…they’d been here a week now.

So Drac found himself pacing on the bridge of his flagship, having no orders to speak of. He settled into his command chair with a sigh, glancing around the bridge at the various officers. I wish something would happen. Anything would be better than sitting around like this.

Moments later an alarm sounded, almost as if in answer to his thoughts. Drac straightened up in his command chair, snapping out a question, “Status report. What caused that alarm?”

The Keelkana’s communications officer twisted in his seat, replying, “Sir. The alarm is a distress call. A small independent trader is being pursued by several other craft. They’re on the far side of the system.”

“Pirates?” Drac’s voice rang with anticipation and controlled menace.

“Most likely, sir.”

Thinking for a moment, the pilot examined the relative positions of the ships and the various stella bodies in the system and nodded to himself, “Alert Cry of Victory. She’s to orient on that planet the freighter just fled past. Also deploy our squadron, ships one through twelve. I’ll be joining them in Krakana. Once we’re all in formation we’ll jump toward the planet.”

It was all over twenty minutes later.  The MCK fleet had jumped in behind the running battle, quickly turning to face the pirates. Even before Drac could confirm that the ID beacons on the chasing ships were rogue, a transmission came from them, “Get the kriff out of here if you know what’s good for you. This isn’t any of your business.”

Calmly, Drac replied, “It isn’t that freighter’s business either. Cease and desist your pursuit or face the consequences.”

The only reaction he got was a burst of laser fire. Rolling out of the way, he made his reply with a pair of linked proton torpedoes.  They slammed into one of the two larger craft amidships. It was a bulk freighter, neither designed nor modified for heavy combat. The missiles broke it like a toy, snapping it in half and sending the pieces spinning in an expanding cloud of debris.

The rest of the dogfight followed the same theme, culminating in another missile barrage that vaporized the bridge of the other pirate freighter. A relieved voice came over the com then, “Thank you for the assistance. We’d have been in a tight spot without you.”

Drac just smiled, ignoring the switch that would allow him to reply. Instead he signaled his fleet to turn and jump out of the system. Doubling back, they rendezvoused with the rest of the fleet and re-docked the fighters. Damage was minor all around, with only a few minor injuries. They’d been fortunate in that no one had died.

The day’s surprises were not yet over, though. As soon as Drac returned to the bridge his comlink beeped at him. He ignored it for the moment, accepting the greetings of his crew. They’d watched the fight through the scanners and were still excited about the route. Once they’d settled down Drac sat in his command chair again and pulled out his comlink. Holding it to his ear, he turned it on at  the lowest audio setting and listened closely. The message was short and simple, “Attention all Nazguls:  All leaves are canceled.  Report back to the Atrus ASAP.  Driver out.”

The Mon Cal couldn’t help but smile. He’d just had a good fight, but the pirates were easy kills and the MCK pilots weren’t Nazzies. Keying his comlink to reply, he spoke into it, “This is Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk, Nazgul Nine. I confirm receipt of the recall order and am inbound. ETA unkown.” Then, standing, he motioned to the Keelkana’s captain, “Commodore. Other duties call and I must be on my way. I temporarily relinquish command to you. Please keep me informed.”

A few minutes later Drac returned to the hangar, having changed into his Vast Imperial Pilot’s uniform. He patted it absently, appreciating the familiar feel of the uniform that suited him so much better than the pale titan kantrey armor. His ship was only half serviced, having only been fueled up. However, it was unlikely that he’d run into more problems than his ten remaining missiles could manage. And any missile the Vast Empire provided was one he didn’t have to buy.

Flying out on a vector toward Vast Imperial space, Drac glanced back at his fleet one last time. Shaking his head uneasily, he faced forward and pushed the hyperspace lever up. As the stars elongated around him as he sat back and wondered what the future held.

OOC:
Word Count: 1184
FL/PO1 Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE (=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1]
He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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Slasher
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Slasher
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Chief Petty Officer
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 16, 2009 7:21:29 AM    View the profile of Slasher 
Slasher looks around the bridge of his Bothan Assault Frigate as the ship comes out of hyperspace,

"Sensors, report."

The young man at the sensor console looks up and reports, "Sector clear sir, no sign of any hostile forces. Long range sensors report normal movement through the shipping lanes just beyond the systems edge, but other than that there are no ships present."

"Very good, they appear to not be expecting us." Turning to the rest of his bridge crew Slasher begins to issue orders. "Communications, send the signal to the rest of the fleet."

The rest of his fleet, which had been on the far edge of the system, made a micro-jump to his position, and as he looks around he sees the various ships coming out of hyperspace and taking up positions. While small, his fleet is crewed by excellent men, veterans all, and they were itching for a fight. His ships, a CR-20 Troop Transport, a Gozanti Cruiser, a Guardian Light Cruiser, and a YZ-775 Medium Transport, are relatively well armed, and the 2 squadrons of Fighters should deal with any enemy fighters which happen to be in the area.

Seeing that everything was in position, Slasher turns to his helmsman and says, "Plot the intercept course, Comm, have the fleet sound General Quarters."

"Aye sir." comes the response, and immediately the klaxons alerting the crew that the ship will be entering battle go off. within 3 minutes every ship in the fleet is at General Quarters, and all the fighters have been launched.

All of a sudden his comm officer looks up and says, "Sir, urgent message coming in from the Atrus instructing you and all the other members of Nazgul Squadron to report aboard ship, all leaves canceled."

Slasher nods and speaks to the ships Commanding officer, "Captain, I'm giving you a temporary promotion to Commodore, you are in command of the fleet until I return. Alert the hangar deck to ready my fighter."

"Yes Admiral"

Slasher quickly makes his way down to the flight deck, boarding his MCS 107 Cal-class Medium Starfighter, and launching from the Frigate, he quickly calculates his jump, and disappears into hyperspace on his way to the Atrus.

OOC:
Sorry about the shortness of the post, but I have an assignment due soon (within an hour and a half), and it only just came up, so I need to get it done.
Senior Chief Petty Officer Rorran "Slasher" Gorma
Vast Empire Nazgul Squadron
FM/SCPO Slasher/Nazgul 1-3/Pheonix Wing/1st FLT/mSSD Atrus/VEN/VE/(=^ME^=)(=*SA*=)(=*A*=)[CBV][MC:1][SWC][BWC]
Rocketman1167
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Rocketman1167
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 18, 2009 8:07:27 PM    View the profile of Rocketman1167 
Rocket stood on the bridge of the VSD Relentless looking out of the window at the repair bay that it was in and just enjoying having time off with out worrying that he had a mission coming up in a time frame when somebody on the bridge called the room to attention. When he turned around he noticed that it was the XO, but that he did not notice him.

Well better not bother him he’s probably here on a task and wants to get back to his relaxing.

Just when he finished thinking that his comlink started to go off. He put his comlink to his ear to see what the message was and it said “Attention all Nazguls: All leaves are canceled. Report back to the Atrus ASAP. Driver out.” After finishing listen to the message the only thought going through Rockets mind was well here we go with another mission wonder what it is this time? Rocket starts to head to the hanger to see if he could borrow a fighter from the ship so he could get back to the VSD Atrus. Rocket heads out to the hanger of the Relentless at a jog so that he can get there before the rest of the squadron. When he gets to the hanger he starts to look for the Deck Chief so he can ask him if he has any extra fighters that he can use to get back to the Atrus. He finds a person talking to ten people and assumes that it is the Deck Chief, and waits for him to finish talking to the people which takes about ten minutes.

“Chief can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yes Crewman what is it?”
“I was wondering if you have any extra fighters that are not being used or repaired because I just came down on orders to return to the Atrus.”
“Why do you need a fighter?”
“I did not bring one with me because I hitched a ride on a shuttle.”
“I see well it so happens that I have one extra fighter left that is not being used at this time, but the only problem is that the missiles do not work on it if you don’t mind that you can take it?”
“When I get to the Atrus I will send it back.”
“There’s no need to I can order another one I will just say that it was lost in the battle.”
“Thanks Chief so where’s it at?”

The Deck Chief points to a fighter about fifty feet away Rocket looks at it and finds out that it is a Tie Interceptor Rocket heads to the Interceptor and enters it though the hatch and turns the dashboard on, and starts to run pre-flight checks so he can make sure that there is nothing else wrong with it, after that is done he finds that the only thing wrong with it is that the missile guidance system is out.

Well that is not hard to fix I can fix that easily but I will wait till I get back to the Atrus.

With that Rocket asks permission to take-off and exits the hanger and flies to space and enters the coordinates and enters hyperspace.

OOC:
544 words sorry it took so long to post my computer was being repaired.
There are many things about the force we do not know it still requires more research
 
FM/SCRW/ Rocketman/ Nazgul 1-2/ Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st fleet/VEN/VE[=A=](MC1)(NSR:H)(NT:H)(BWC)

Rocketman's VE Profile:http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Rocketman
[This message has been edited by Rocketman (edited September 18, 2009 8:10:21 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Rocketman (edited September 18, 2009 8:12:37 PM)]
Van
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Van
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 19, 2009 5:19:18 PM    View the profile of Van 
Shadowstalker……Shadowstalker…that...that was…that was my name. That is my name. Van Shadowstalker. His eyes were closed. When he opened them he was on a forested planet. The trees were full of color and the air smelled sweet. Van felt the rain as it poured upon him. Bzzt...Bzzt bzzt the sound of blasters was in every direction. Ya…Yavin…this place is Yavin 4 this is my home world… The sounds of blaster fire grew closer with each passing moment. Screams began to cry out in the night. They were louder than the pouring rain that made him colder with every passing moment. He walked slowly towards the commotion and saw the battle taking place the Stormtroopers and 3 AT-ST’s were trying to hold their own against oncoming hordes of rebel troops. There was a boy next to him that was no more than 15 Van tried to talk to him.

“Get out of here boy.”

The boy didn’t answer him. He didn’t even look in the general direction that Van was. The boy took two steps forward. Van didn’t understand what was going on and why the boy kept walking.

“What are you doing?”

Van shouted loudly; clear enough that the Stormtroopers could have heard him too. No one looked at him, no one acknowledged him and no one ever stopped fighting the enemy. Van looked to see what the boy was looking at. There was an officer that was telling the boy to get off of the battle field. The officer didn’t show any signs of knowing that Van was there as well. A dawning had shown on the officer’s face and so he began to motion to the boy. The boy walked to him. As the boy was going towards the officer, blaster shots whizzed past him. The boy didn’t acknowledge the bodies lying around him, or the men that were being shot down right behind him. When the boy reached the officer, the man grabbed him and ran him back behind the lines. Van followed as he did more and more soldiers past by him, from the looks of it they were reinforcements. Van made it to the spot where the officer stood and spotted the boy in a craft that was rising to leave the planet. There is something familiar about this place, something very familiar. He walked back to the battle. Soldiers were lying everywhere, dead, dying or injured. Van thought it looked as though time sped up but he quickly denounced that notion of that thought, knowing that it was impossible for that to happen. Van walked to the officer who helped the boy onto the shuttle. The man lay with his back against a log and his blaster pistol held outward toward the rebels, who stood around him. The rebels shouted at him.

“Tell us the weak points on your cruiser up in orbit.”

The officer never said anything, but instead spat blood into the face of the rebel questioning him. The rebel leader stood up and grabbed a blaster rifle from one of his men. The leader didn’t say anything after he unleashed a full clip of ammo into the man and covered himself in the spraying blood of the officer. Then he spoke.

“Get me any men that are alive from this imperial regiment. I want to know all that I can about the Imperial Arsenal

What no this can’t be. It dawned on Van that this was the same exact day that he left Yavin 4 and began his life as an imperial. That boy was him and the officer was the man that had just eaten an entire clip in front of his eyes. A blaster bolt struck him. Van’s eyes closed for a moment…AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH ...

…AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Van screamed at the top of his lungs. Smoke drifted into his room. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Van heard a thud outside of his room. He walked over to the door, with his knife in hand, and opened it to see what happened. Ph’rranix an officer of higher rank stood outside of his door.

“Meeting in the Mess hall in 1800 hourrs”

Van said that he would be there and that was the end of that discussion. Van walked down the hall toward what seemed like a light…

There was a small beeping sound then it grew louder. Van cracked his eyes, his vision blurry at first but then coming into resolution.

“Doctor he’s coming around.”

A petite nurse, standing next to Van, said.

“Make sure that those restraints are locked tight”

The doctor said as he ran over to aid the nurse. Van grunted and then let out a howl of rage and anger. The nurse scared to death began to nervously tighten restraints that had been placed on Van. But before she could tighten them fully van broke free and grabbed his DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistol from beside his hospital wing bed. He stood on the bed and pointed it at the people around him had all stopped doing their work in terror that they might get shot should they move.

A nurse behind a counter pressed the security button under the counter which buzzed straight through to the men in the security room. The nurse used Morse code to tell them to come armed and protected because a patient had  just woke up from a coma and had a blaster. When she hit the last part of the Morse code, the button made a clicking noise. Van hearing it shot at the wall behind the woman who screamed in terror.

“WHERE AM I”

“WHERE”

Van shouted this multiple times until a doctor came over to him slowly with hands raised and told Van that he was in the Hospital wing of an imperial ship and that he had been in a coma for almost a year.

Just then an entire sector of security guards entered the room with blasters Van thinking he was betrayed shot at the guards hitting them in places that would only injure them and not kill them, places like the arms and legs. He hit 10 guards before they began to fire back. Van immediately took cover behind the bed. More guards quietly came in to the room from behind Van via a back door to the medical bay. They jumped on Van at once and though he struggled Van was overwhelmed by the dog pile that kept growing. Van blacked out.

He woke to find himself in a dimly lit room. There was nothing special about it no mirrors, no paint, no table. The only thing the room had in it was two chairs one that Van sat on and another that was across from him. It was empty. Then a man strode into the room and sat in the chair looking at a portfolio of what must have been Van’s records. The man wore a simple grey naval officer uniform that had some badges here and there, nothing too special thought Van. Then the man spoke.

“So… um… Van Shadowstalker is it… a flight member of the disbanded Kaph Squadron… Van Shadowstalker was presumed dead after being filed MIA for 3 months after his first mission with Kaph. Later he was found in his damaged Imperial tie fighter… dadadadada… with minimal oxygen… In a state of comatose… and was later inducted into the medical bay on this ship, the Aphrodite… and you just woke up today. Did I miss anything?”

Van didn’t answer.

“Good, you realize that you are out of your line of work due to the fact that Kaph has been disbanded.  BUT it’s your lucky day pilot. You have been reassigned to the Nazgul Squadron. There are no buts in this due to the fact that you injured 15 naval security guards. Anyway they were the only group that was willing to take a psychotic monster like you. And get this they just got a new mission maybe this time you won’t mess up.”

The officer unlatched the restraints holding Van. Van rubbed his wrists because they were sore, and swelling from the restraints that held him. The officer led Van out of the interrogation room and to the Hangar Bay of the Aphrodite. There they stopped in front of the ship that Van was using during his small time on Kaph. The ship was the most basic of all Tie fighters. It had acquired a large amount of dust over the year that it sat in the hangar. Van rubbed his hand along its flanks.

“It is an old piece of junk you know. You should probably buy a new one once you get the money for it.”

The officer said to Van. All Van did was nod in agreement. But first this ol’ bucket of bolts needed a new coat of paint to go along with the theme of Nazgul’s colors.

“You can fix ‘er up and then once your done I’ll send three Ties to escort you to the Atrus

Van nodded his thanks to the officer who left shortly after. Then Van set to work on fixing his craft.

When it was finished Van was looking a sleek black Tie Fighter that could easily blend in with the void of space itself. Then Van left the Aphroditeshortly after and made his way with his three escorts to the Atrus. He didn’t need to say goodbye all he did was gather his weapons, rations, ammo, and extra clothes, and leave.



OOC:
WC: 1584 juust to start things off on my return
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Rocketman1167
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 26, 2009 4:53:10 PM    View the profile of Rocketman1167 
Rocket decides to not take a nap in case he runs into trouble or some other thing that can hinder him from getting to the Atrus. Rocket decides to practice some simulation that the fighter has in it. He finds one that would be good to work on and pass the time it is about when the hyperdrive malfunctions, so the computer simulates that the hyperdrive goes out and enters rebel space the computer starts to blink to say that there is enemy contacts Rocket looks to see how many there are.

Okay there are twelve enemy and they are flying X-wings that is not so bad well my hyperdrive is out, but I got missiles, lasers, and I am alone well this simulation is an impossible one whoever put this on here must have been bored at the time. What the heck might as well do this to see how many of them that I can kill before they kill me.

Rocket pulls his Tie and fires one missile at the lead squadron and destroys the seconded one because the computer did not calculate the distance right. The squadron breaks up into flights to try to destroy Rocket, the simulation suddenly ends. What is going on the computer should not end the simulation until we reach the dropout point. Rocket starts to look at the dash board to see why the computer decided to end the simulation when he sees a buzzer blinking. Whatever is going on is starting to what does that buzzer mean though? Rocket looks around to see if he can see anything out of place. A message pops up on the dashboard. Rocket opens the message up it says that the Tie that he was in also had an engine leak and that was what that blinking buzzer was indicating. So there are more things wrong with this fighter than the Deck Chief said there where, well at least it will get me to the Atrus in one piece that is a plus I guess. Well let’s see if I can figure a way to get the engine to stop leaking that is my first priority once that is done I can work on trying to get the missiles back online because that would help me a lot if I run into any trouble. Rocket looks at the dashboard to see which engine is leaking the most he finds that both of them are leaking, but the one on the left is leaking more. So he starts to draw power from it and finds that when it is at fifty percent it stops leaking he puts the extra power into the shields so that it would not leak again. Next he draws power from the right one and only has to take ten percent out of the right engine. After that is done the computer tells him that he will be arriving at the Atrus in about ten minutes he hales the Atrus telling them that it is Nazgul 1-2 and that he wants to land in the hanger to conduct repairs and get ready for the mission that is coming up.

OOC:
527 words Sorry it took so long to post again this week been busy and stuff.
There are many things about the force we do not know it still requires more research
 
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Stewart-Power
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
September 28, 2009 7:18:16 PM    View the profile of Stewart-Power 
As Thel walked along the deck of the hanger, he reflected about how he got there. He had been pulled out of the last mission by the fact that part of the hyperspace coolant had somehow leaked into the comm. system. There was still enough coolant to make one more, emergency, hyperspace jump. He had barely made it back to the same sector as The Atrus when he had to cut the power to all systems and start drifting back towards the SSD.

Luckily a patrol was close by, and fed the co-ordinates to The Atrus. He was then guided to the ship by a tractor beam. Once in the ship, he had spent almost forty-eight hours straight trying to repair it with a team of technicians. The only reason they tried to fix it, instead just getting a new one, was the TIE Avengers are so expensive.

The tech team had switched two times before Thel retired to his quarters wearily for some much needed sleep. He slept in full flight suit, so when he did wake up, he as aching something terrible.
"At least I didn't keep my helmet on." he said to himself.
He changed into a spare engineer uniform, and continued working on his TIE.

After what felt like a standard week of toiling, The Avenger was fixed.
They had to remove the hyper drive, the comm. computer, and the controls for the Starboard Engine. They then had to disassemble the hyper drive completely. After that the tried to fix the comm. computer, but couldn't and decided just to replace it. The starboard engines had shut down automatically for some unknown reason. That's what had caused him to veer apart from his wingman. All that was in order was a manual reboot (and the removal of some non-vital security features, which happened to make it faster. For the sake of being symmetric he had the same thing done to the Port engine.

Thel was then temporarily transferred of The Atrus to similar patrol duties as he had been rescued from himself. It was not a challenging time, with only simulations to brake up the monotony. Though personally, Thel didn’t really mind the routine, at first anyway.
There had only been a few skirmishes, but it was usually just smugglers, or pirates. Once there were even a couple of pirate ships attacking a freighter. After the pirates had been routed, it turned out that the freighter was actually smuggling arms and weapons to nearby pirate gangs.
Though Thel was close to being put on the team to infiltrate the pirate’s base in the area, he was instead called back to The Atrus.

He was about to work on his melee combat, that needed to be drastically improved, when his COM link went off.

“Attention all Nazguls:  All leaves are canceled.  Report back to the Atrus ASAP.  Driver out.” Was the message.

Thel Went back to his quarters, put on his Nazgul uniform, and headed to Driver’s office to report.
It was time for another of Nazgul’s exciting, if hectic, and probably crazy, missions.

OOC:
Word Cont: 516 Words. First post in a while, feels good to be back in action. (Spelling be damned!)
FM/LCRW Stewart-Power/Nazgul 15/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=A=)
                  "Thel"

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"It took the crisis of national survival in 1940, to make [Winston] Churchill suddenly Prime-Minister. Left to burden the responsibility for losing the war, which he famously failed to do."

A Mari Usque Ad Mare.. .Ad Mare... (From Sea to Sea... to Sea...) -Latin

Clearly Canadian!
Van
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Van
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 8, 2009 8:51:36 AM    View the profile of Van 
The trip from the Aphrodite was a very long and tiresome journey. One quarter of the way through the trip and Van had enabled auto pilot so that he could get some shuteye. The rest of the journey was much the same.

Beep, Beep, Beep… Van awoke from his sleep to see that he and the other pilots had dropped out of hyperspace and were headed toward a giant Star Destroyer. Van had never seen anything of the like before this one. So this is the Atrus… It is a very magnificent ship, can’t wait. Van thought to himself as he observed the ship. He looked at it for a full five minutes before he realized that his Comlink had been flashing. He opened the connection:
“Hello,” Van said through the link.

A response came shortly afterwards, “Sir, their hailing us and asking for our Identification codes.” It was one of the wingmen that was sent as to escort Van to the Atrus.

“Alrighty then, patch them through to me,” Van replied to his escort.

“Yes Sir,” replied the wingman.

Van’s Comlink crackled as it changed channels so that he could connect with the Atrus’s command deck. Then, “This is the Atrus please state your business and ID Codes.”

Van gave a reply to the terse command operator, “This is Van Shadowstalker coming in for reassignment to the Nazgul Squadron. IDC is 006S4V8. I am being escorted by three wingmen IDCs are 103D5G7, 104D5G7 and last but not least 105D5G7. They are here only to escort me safely to the Atrus once on board they will refuel and then return to the Aphrodite.”

“Alright, please give me one moment to compile all data regarding claims.” The command officer said.

Then the link was cut leaving only the crackle of a cut link. It was only for a moment; however as the line came back into function when the Officer returned to the Comlink.

There was a ruffle of papers and a typing on a keyboard, then,” Alright Nazgul Flight 3 Wing 12 your orders are in check and you have the clear to land. You will be debriefed on landing thank you and have a nice day.”

The Comlink was cut and so Van and his escorts flew to Hangar 3 were Van’s Flight would be located and landed his ship. The men that had escorted him on his journey filled their tanks to the brim and left in less than thirty minutes since landing. Van never said farewell to them for he didn’t really care that much.

As he began to leave his ship an officer walked up to him and waited for Van to get down the last rung of the ladder before stating his name.

“Officer Dacvin Turrusso is the name and you must be Van Shadowstalker I presume?” Van nodded to the newly arrived officer. They then saluted each other. Dacvin motioned for Van to follow, and so they began to walk throughout the hangars. They walked through 2 of the hangars before Dacvin began to speak.

“I think that its time you began to remember a new IDC” Van looked at him curiously not knowing why he needed a new one.

Dacvin must have seen some bewilderment in Van’s eyes and cleared the issue, “You see, your IDC and those of the Wingmen you had were about a year out of date. Soooo, your new IDC shall be NAZF3W12 and should your position in the squadron move around then your IDC will change as well.”

Van nodded his understanding.

Dacvin continued after getting the nod to continue from Van, “Now about your equipment…”

“What’s wrong with it,” Van said before Dacvin could finish the sentence.

“It’s a little bit out of date, so you will be issued the squadron gear, which is one TIE Avenger Starfighter.” Dacvin said it with a little more enthusiasm then intended so he cleared his throat to pass off the enthusiasm as a dry throat.

“Thank you, sir,” Van replied.

Can’t wait to see what this Avenger is gonna be like. Van thought to himself.

“And now you will need to go talk to your Squadron Commander,” said Dacvin.

“Oh and he is?” Van asked curiously.

Dacvin just smiled and said, “Atrasin…Geordi Atra…”

OOC:
Hey Driver just thought that you could sort of initiate me into the squadron with your next post. 713 word count
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[This message has been edited by Van (edited October 8, 2009 10:39:26 AM)]
Rocketman1167
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 8, 2009 9:36:18 PM    View the profile of Rocketman1167 
Rocket got permission from the VSD Atrus he then went to land the tie fighter tie fighter.  When he got the fighter into the hanger he noticed that there was more room in the hanger than when he left.  When he landed the fighter he shut the system down he got out of the fighter and when to find Deck Chief ask him if he can make repairs on the fighter.  The deck chief was giving orders to his maintenance for the task that he had at hand.  Rocket goes to the deck chief and asks’ him “Can I leave this fighter with you until I am able to make repair it?” the Chief says “why of course you can so where did you get the fighter in the first place?” “I got it from Deck Chief at the VSD Relentless and he said that he did not need it anymore and that I can have it if you have no need for it.” “Well I will see if I can indeed use it than you can have it, but for now let’s just leave it where it is.” As Rocket thanks the Deck Chief for his assistance on the fighter matter he decides that it would be a good time to go back to his quarters to see if anybody had messed with any of his stuff.

As Rocket starts to take his hour walk to get to his room he decides that it would be a good time for him to see if anybody new had been added to the rooster since he had been on mandatory leave from the squadron. Well at least there will be a couple of new faces around here good that means that people are joining again. As Rocket finishes this thought his stomach growls, well it has been awhile since I ate anything well time to go get chow. Rocket takes a detour that will take him to the chow hall so that he can get some food in his stomach before the debriefing that will happen in a matter of time that he hopes will be soon since being on leave was not what he expected. All he pretty much did was clean his weapons and walk around the ship wondering what to do. Rocket didn’t have much time to himself since he graduated the Academy, so he was not used to being able to do whatever he wanted to do without having a time line of being sent on a mission or having to do checks on his fighter. So when it came for him to go do stuff he pretty much just caught up on sleep.

When Rocket gets to his room he finds that nothing has been messed with so that makes him feel relieved that people did not go though his stuff when he was gone.

Rocket decides that now would be a good time to get back into the hang of running checks on his fighter so that it will be ready for the mission that is going to go down in the near future. So he goes to the hanger that his fighter is in which does not take him long considering that it is fairly close to his room. When he gets there he finds that the mechanics are making checks on his and the rest of the squadron to make sure that it is in working order.

He approaches one of the mechanics to see if he can get a status report on his fighter. “Is the fighter 1-2 in working order?” “Yeah it is, we had a little problem with the laser system, but it is all fine now, she is ready to fly at any moment’s notice,” the mechanic says as he turns around to face Rocket. Right away the face of the mechanic shifts from a look of relaxing to a look of being a professional. Rocket ignores this change of attitude and asks him “Are you guys done with the checks or do you need longer?” “yeah we still have to check to see if the hyperdrive is still working as it should be if not than you might as well find another fighter to use in the meantime and that my friend is going to be a task in its self because of the fact that most if not all of the fighter on this ship are being used by somebody.” “I see so how long will that take to do?” “Well it depends on what we find wrong with it, and also if we find anything wrong with any of the other fighters in this bay.” “I see so do you think I could get in there and run a systems check real quick and skip over the check for the hyperdrive?” “I don’t see a problem with that I think that would be a good idea it will help us out too to see if we missed anything when we did our check.” “Okay thanks I will try to stay out of your guys way.”

With that Rocket hurries to his fighter opens the top hatch turns on the dash board and starts to do a systems check and makes sure that he does not check over the hyperdrive. I will run another one when they are done just in case they did miss something and my primary check missed something too. Rocket inputs the keystrokes needed to start the check and his fighter starts to do a full systems check minus the hyperdrive. After about five minutes of waiting in the cockpit the computer tells him that all of the systems are in the green and that all of the weapon targeting is in the green also. So good on shields, lasers, missiles, air, power, thrusters, and comm's all that is left to be done is to check the engines and the hyperdrive witch the mechanics’ will check over so all I have to do now is wait till they get that done and then run another check and I will be good to go for the next mission.

OOC:
1,024 words this is probably the longest post that i have done sorry it took awhile to post RL had some problems that needed to be taken care of.
There are many aspects of the Force we have no knowledge of. The subject still requires further research and study.

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Drac
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 10, 2009 9:38:27 AM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac re-entered realspace approximately ten kilometers away from the Atrus, well inside its sensors envelope. A moment later his com unit beeped an incoming signal and a flight of Interceptors began to vector toward him. Flicking to the appropriate channel, he caught the message, “Unidentified E-wing: Identify yourself and state your business in this system.”

Smiling, Drac replied, “Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk here, inbound to the Atrus on Vast Empire business.  As often as we’re pulling this routine, Control, you really ought to know Krakana by sight.”

“I do,” Control answered in a slightly aggrieved tone, “Doesn’t change the regulations, though. We deck officers don’t get to flout regulations like you hotshots do, you know.” A moment later another voice, rougher with age, broke in. The only sound it made, though, was very similar to an irritated clearing of the throat. Control picked it up again, “Err…right. Krakana, you are cleared to land in the personal craft hangar. Please proceed immediately.”

“Acknowledged, Control. Krakana out.” Pulling the stick back, Drac entered a shallow climb calculated to take him over the top of the Atrus. As he settled in on his new heading the Interceptors broke off back to their patrol route, satisfied that he presented no threat. A few minutes’ flight brought the Mon Calamari into position directly above the huge Super Star Destroyer, near the bridge. As he passed in front of it, he waggled his wings in respect.

A few minutes later Drac settled the E-wing down on the deck and shut off his repulsor lifts. Removing his helmet, he rolled his head to get the kinks out of his neck. As soon as the hatch finished opening he stood, helmet under one arm, and stepped onto the ladder a tech had rolled up.

--------------------

Drac hadn’t been on the Atrus long at all when an abbreviated beep informed him that a file had just been uploaded to his personal datapad. Standing, he twisted from side to side and smiled as his spine popped. Removing his datapad from its dock, he selected the message file that flashed on the device’s screen. It was a short memo from the flight controller in Hangar Three:

To: CPO Dracule Mihawk
From: PO2 Kell Dessain
Priority: Low

Re: LCRW Van Shadowstalker

This message is to inform you of the arrival of your newest flight member. Leading Crewman Shadowstalker is returning to service and will be taking the position of Nazgul 12 effective immediately. Ensign Geordi Atrasin has left orders that you meet the Leading Crewman and familiarize him with his ship and squadron. He is currently inbound for Hangar Three, ETA 10 Standard Minutes.


Nice of Driver to let me know in advance, Drac thought dryly. Ah well. I’d better get moving if I’m going to get to the hangar in time. He pocketed the datapad, straightened his flight suit, and exited his quarters.

The way to Hangar Three was nothing if not familiar. The Mon Calamari couldn’t count the number of times he’d walked it…though he could count the number of times he’d gotten lost trying to find it. The Atrus  was not a kind place to anyone with a poor sense of direction or a tendency towards absentmindedness. Even the most attentive of beings got lost from time to time, which was Drac’s claim should anyone ask.

Drac stopped suddenly, having just seen something as he passed by a hatch. Turning around, he stepped back to the doorway and angled one orange eye to the front to examine what he’d glimpsed. It appeared to be a ball of arms and legs rolling around on the deck, partially hidden by some couches in what appeared to be a recreation center. The thuds and grunts emanating from the wriggling mass were low, but audible once he’d entered the room. I might not always understand everything Humans do, or why they do it, but fights are pretty much universal. Striding forward, the Chief Petty Officer leaned down and grasped each of the two young men by the back of their uniform collars and heaved back. Thrown off balance by the sudden jerk, they both yelped in surprise as their butts hit the deck. Before they reacted Drac glanced at their rank insignias and was relieved to see two Leading Crewmen. Things could have been awkward in the unlikely case that one of the two outranked him.

The two young men, turned to look back at where Drac was standing, staring at them with arms crossed. One was bleeding from his nose, and the other nursed a swollen lip and blackened eye. Both sported a patch he knew to be Sunfire Squadron’s.  When they saw his rank their angry expressions changed to sheepish ones. He didn’t speak for a moment, letting the contrast between his dark clothes and skin and his bright orange eyes unsettle the two. When it was apparent one was about to speak, Drac spoke first, “What do you two think you are doing?”

“Well, sir. We…he, ah…he…” the man was licking his lips to wet them, his face pale.

Silencing him with a cutting motion, the Mon Cal interrupted, “I don’t particularly care what who did. I’ve got somewhere to be and not much time to be there, so you can tell it to the security officer when he gets here.” Seeing their panicked expressions, he added, “OR you can both report to your squadron commander and let him decide what’s to be done with you. And don’t think you can sneak your way out of this. I’ll be in contact with your SC later today to make sure you’ve reported. Dismissed.” The two staggered to their feet and bolted from the room. Drac watched them go, allowing himself a small smile as they disappeared down the corridor. Now I see why flight instructors love to be so cranky. It’s fun.

Drac entered Hangar Three at a measured pace, letting his broken-in but still well maintained boots tap against the deck in a steady, confident rhythm. It didn’t take long to spot the new pilot: a young human, staring around with eyes wide as he spoke with the deck officer. The expression was familiar, but this time seemed a little different. Oh, right. He’s a returning pilot, so he’s not completely wet behind the ears. From the looks of things it must be the Avengers that impress him. For a moment Drac frowned, considering the phrase ‘wet behind the ears.’ I’m not entirely sure what humans mean by it, to be honest with myself. I mean, I’m always wet behind the tympanic membranes.

Approaching the pair as they spoke, the Chief Petty Officer was able to overhear the last part of the conversation, “Oh, and he is?”

“Atrasin…Geordi Atra…”

Drac broke in, “Or Driver, as he’s better known. He’s also been called slave driver, but I wouldn’t recommend that.” Extending a hand, he continued, “I’m Drac, or Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk if you prefer. While we’re on the topic of names: you could also call me Nazgul Nine. I’ll be your flight leader in Nazgul.” After shaking the man’s hand, Drac turned and gestured toward the fighters lining their launch racks, “So, what do you think of the Avengers? A little flashier than your last ride?”

OOC:
Word Count: 1218
FL/CPO Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1][NSR:H][NT:H]

He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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[This message has been edited by Drac (edited October 10, 2009 11:36:55 PM)]
Carpet
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 14, 2009 8:37:29 PM    View the profile of Carpet 
The Super Star Destroyer Atrus glistened against the faint planet in the distance, it's engines giving off an soft glow into the dark hollowness of space. It was just at that moment Adaha "Carpet" Tatham realised he had finally made it, after years of hard work, tireless study and months at the Vast Empire Naval Academy he was about to start his career as a Starfighter pilot. The thrill of being assigned to his first Squadron hadn't faded one bit, yet still in the background of his excitement was an ever growing nervousness of his new assignment as Nazgul 3. Growing almost as quick as the Super Star Destroyer through his shuttle viewport was.
"I'm finally here." he whispered to himself as he grinned. The shuttle made one last course correction lined up with the Artus's main hanger bay as it made it's final decent.

The shuttle became a hive of activity as the pilot announced that the shuttle would be landing in five minutes. Many of the other new recruits and various other passengers seated around him started collect their belongings and packing them into various bags or pockets. Of course that wasn't a problem for Carpet, he was practically wearing everything he owned, and everything else inside his backpack was standard military issue from the academy. Making one final check that his arrival orders were safely in his tunic's pocket he lay back in his seat, gave out a relaxing breath and continued studying the rapidly approaching Star Destroyer.

The shuttle made a smooth uneventful landing as it touched down and by the time Carpet had reached the exit ramp most of the other passengers had already exited. The hanger bay was huge, much more massive than anything he had seen at the academy with rows upon rows of various models of TIE Starfighters hanging neatly from the ceiling, several freighters parked in the middle of the expanse, and off to one side a bay full of shuttles, which his shuttle had just joined. The floor and bulkheads were immaculately clean, giving off a sharp shine that he had come to expect from an Imperial vessel. Without further delay Adaha sett off down the ramp to meet the deck officer awaiting him below.
He threw up a crisp academy salute, "Senior Crewman Adaha Tatham reporting to duty sir." he announced as his right hand returned to his side. "I've been posted from the Naval Academy to Nazgul 3." he explained as he handed the chief his orders.

The crew chief looked old and frankly a little worn out as if he'd been on duty far much longer than he was supposed to be, yet he looked Carpet up and down and then gave him one of the strangest of smirks.
"Ah yes, the one they call Carpet? I have you right here." He said as he checked his own datapad. "Your quarters are in sector 15, room 245. Unpack your things and report to Nazgul Squadron as soon as possible. I've uploaded the locations to your datapad." The deck chief smiled strangely again and handed Carpet's orders back to him. Giving another crisp navy salute, Carpet turned and started on his way.
"Oh, and welcome aboard the Atrus. I do enjoy watching new flight members come aboard". The chief smugly added as Carpet walked way. Enjoy watching new flight members come aboard? Slightly puzzled Carpet made his way into the reception corridor.

Two hours later Carpet concluded that the deck chief's map of this massive starship was about as useful as a bantha in a briefing room. After completely unintentional visits to the main reactor, the aft engineering section, the shield generators and sensor control room Carpet had completely disregarded his map and had finally given in to asking an unsuspecting member of the control room's staff for better directions.
Half an hour later he finally made it to his new quarters, room 245, his new home for the foreseeable future. Eager to see his new accommodation he taped the door release and stepped in.
For a split second he thought the gravity had failed, but he soon realised that he was still standing squarely on the floor. His new room was small and basic, as expected for a Crewman of the Imperial Navy. There was a small single bed to the right, and across the room was a small desk, wardrobe and a refresher station. The only problem was, everything was upside down and somehow attached to the ceiling. Grimacing, Carpet reached up to the bed and gave a firm tug, but the bed was stuck up there solid, as he imagined the rest of the items would be. Stowing his backpack into the corner of the room he opened up the wardrobe to find his new flight suit, new squadron patches and all, violently tied up into dozens of knots. And finally a small paper note saying "Welcome To Nazgul Squadron"
Shaking his head and suppressing a chuckle he soon realised just why that crew chief enjoyed watching new flight members coming aboard. The terrible map, his upside down room and a flight suit that even a crazed Rancor couldn't pull apart. This had all been an elaborate Squadron practical joke to welcome him aboard.
Leaving his room Carpet made his way down the corridor. This was going to be an interesting day indeed, but at least his nerves were gone.
Reaching his final destination Carpet walked up to the door labled "Nazgul Squadron Crewroom" tapped the door relese and stepped in.

FM/SCRW Adaha “Carpet” Tatham/Nazgul 1-3/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/
(=*A*=)
Hunter-Morrell
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 14, 2009 9:36:17 PM    View the profile of Hunter-Morrell 
Hunter was striding down a hallway, heading towards the hangar when he spotted Drac, a fellow Nazgul pilot. Quickening his pace, he drew near to the Mon Calamarian, who had yet to notice him, when Drac glanced into a side hatch and abruptly stopped in his track, peering into the hatch for a few seconds before drifting in. With a sly smile, Hunter swiftly snuck up beside the hatch and stopped, listening intently to the conversation. He heard snatches of it, but from what he could gather, two beings had been wrestling and Drac had broken it up.

Heh. Drac would be the one to break up a fight.

Hunter had started to step forwards when Drac exited through the hatch, nearly slamming into Hunter. Muttering an apology, Drac sped off down the corridor without a second glance. Frowning, Hunter shrugged and turned his back on the retreating Mon Calamarian and leaned around the corner of the hatch, peering into the room. The two beings were in fact two human males. They were both standing, staring at each other with barely concealed malice. Sighing, Hunter decided he had better intervene before they started brawling again. With a flourish, he bounded into the room, surprising the two pilots, each of whom had been too busy having the staring contest to pay attention to the hatch.

I could have some fun with this.

Hunter was glad that he wasn’t in his standard flight suit, which would betray him by showing his rank. Instead, he had opted for his beloved Shadowsuit, specially made to have the sleeves and facemask removable. It was extremely comfortable, which was why he normally wore it on the ship, unless it was a special occasion or a mission. Adopting a blank stare, he looked at each of them, noting their rank of Leading Crewman.

Ahh. New guys. Excellent. This’ll make it even better.

“What are you two in here doing?” Hunter asked with a lighthearted tone, cocking an eyebrow as he gazed quizzically at the two recruits.

“Nothing! Why don’t you just butt out of it, ok? Or else . . .” the one on the left stated, raising a clenched fist and leaving the threat hanging just like his fist was now doing.

Hunter allowed a small smile to play across his face and he turned his gaze on the recruit to his right.

“What about you? Are you going to make empty threats like your stupid friend over here?” Hunter said, gesturing towards the rude recruit with his index finger, still with a lighthearted tone in his voice.

The recruit on the right looked uncertainly at the other recruit, before turning to back to his questioner. He stopped and narrowed his eyes as if studying Hunter. With a look of shock, the recruits eyes widened and Hunter knew he had been recognized. With a quick look at the rude recruit to make sure he was looking anywhere except at Hunter, he winked at the recruit who had recognized him.

“He isn’t my friend! But I do admit, he is a bit stupid.” The recruit said with a sly grin as the other recruit scowled and stepped towards him as if to punch him.

With a quick few steps, Hunter intercepted him and rebuffed the advance, pushing the recruit back into the wall. With a look of rage, the recruit tried to tackle Hunter, which didn’t go as planned. As he drew near, Hunter crouched down and leaned towards the right. With a triumphant cry, the angry recruit took the bait and changed direction, but Hunter was already moving. Backpedaling, Hunter threw out his foot in front of the charging recruit and tapped him on the back. The now out of control recruit slammed into the ground and slid a few feet before stopping. A groan issued from the limp body. Walking over, Hunter hauled the dazed recruit to his feet and stood him on his feet, looking him in the eye as he did so.

“Now then. You want to tell me why you tried to assault me?” Hunter growled, all good humor gone, now replaced by white hot anger.

The recruit flinched slightly under the harsh gaze of the Master Chief Petty Officer before answering, “You wouldn’t mind your own business and you wouldn’t leave us alone.”

“Ok then. That’s understandable. Now, you mind telling me why you assaulted a Master Chief Petty Officer, who also happens to be the Executive Officer of Nazgul Squadron and the Executive Office of the Naval Academy?” Hunter said, with a cold grin.

The blood drained from the recruit’s face as those facts registered. His lips started moving silently as his brain struggled to form words into a comprehensible sentence.

“W-w-what?” the recruit stammered as it finally hit home that he could very well get into some major trouble for this.

Not only did he not take the time to properly identify Hunter, he had not identified himself. He assaulted not one, but two pilots. Things were looking very bad for him right now.

He stumbled back and slumped down against the wall with a horror filled face. Leaning close, Hunter grinned again.

“You could very well be kicked out of the Navy for this. I should report this, but I don’t know.” Hunter said coldly. He looked back at the other recruit, who had been silent for a while, and said, “What do you think I should do?”

The recruit looked startled, before answering, “I think you should spare him that awful fate. He didn’t mean to do it. He isn’t the brightest being.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Hunter turned back to the shivering recruit on the floor, “There you have it. You’re getting off scot-free. Now don’t do it again, you hear me? This guy just saved your life. You could have been executed in addition to being kicked out of the Navy. I suggest you do anything you can to make it up to him. Have a good day.”

Walking out of the room, he strolled down the corridor, whistling a tune.

OOC:
WC: 1014. Booyah.
Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell
XO/MCPO Hunter-Morrell/Nazgul 5/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE [CBV][BRC][BWC][MC:1]
Drac
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Drac
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 15, 2009 12:30:07 AM    View the profile of Drac 
OOC:
Oh, so I'm the one that stops fights, am I? We'll see about that.


It didn't take long to finish showing Van around the hangar. They stopped by the Avenger the new pilot would be flying and Drac let him crawl inside and assure himself that it wasn't too different from the Interceptors he'd trained in. Afterward they'd visited the squadron ready room just off the hangar, and he'd pointed out the locker that would belong to Van for the duration of his time as Nazgul Twelve.

Now finished in the hangar, the Chief Petty Officer led his new flight member back out into the hall. They met DarianRogue on the way, and he joined them. Turning left in the hall, the trio headed toward Nazgul's headquarters and crew room. As they walked Drac answered what questions he could about the Atrus and filled Van in on Nazgul and its history.

When they were nearing the halfway point in their journey, having just stepped out of a turbolift, Drac asked for a moment. Van  and DR nodded, and Drac stepped aside into an alcove several yards away. Pulling his comlink from his pocket, he set the frequency to the Atrus's directory channel. A female voice answered, "Atrus Directory. Which frequency may I direct you to?"

"Please transfer me to Sunfire Squadron's command frequency," was Drac's reply.

"Please state your rank and name for access confirmation."

"Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk, of Nazgul Squadron."

"Thank you. It will be one moment...okay, access confirmed. Transfering you to Sunfire Squadron's command frequency...now."

The comlink buzzed static for a moment, then the line re-opened with a click, "This is Lieutenant Kark'engrann. To whom am I speaking?"

"Lieutenant. I am Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk, of Nazgul Squadron."

"Ah. And what is the purpose of this communication, Chief Petty Officer?" Oh, great. He just had to be one of those stuffy by-the-book types, didn't he?

"I am contacting you to check on the status of two of your pilots. Approximately a standard hour ago I found the two Leading Crewmen in a sideroom engaging in a bout of fisticuffs. After breaking up the fight I ordered them to report the matter to you to deal with as you see fit."

Cold anger permeated the Lieutenant's voice, "I see. Thank you, Chief Petty Officer. This will be dealt with. What were the two pilots names?"

Something like a fist clenched in the Mon Calamari's gut. Oops...forgot that part. Out loud, he replied, "I'm afraid I neglected to get their names, sir. I apologize for the lapse. My mind was on other duties...you should be able to tell by looking at their faces, though, if that's any help."

The Lieutenant sighed, and irritation colored the anger that still dominated his tone, "You would do well, Chief Petty Officer, not to forget such details again. They are an essential part of your job as a noncommissioned officer. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You could be reported for such a lapse, but I will refrain from that in light of the larger problem. Thank you again for bringing this to my attention. Was there anything else you wish to add?"

"No, sir."

"Good day."

"Good day, sir."

Leaving the alcove, the Mon Calamari rejoined his flight member. Van gave him a questioning look, but he just shook his head. It wasn't something that concerned anyone but those involved. DR just shrugged when Van glanced his way. He'd already learned that some things you just didn't find out until later, if at all.

-------------

A few minutes of walking brought the trio to the hatch opening on the crew room. Opening it, Drac stepped inside and glanced around. Most of Nazgul was here already, gathered around another new face. The new guy was introduced as Carpet, which triggered a memory for Drac. He'd seen the young man once before, in a large group lecture he guest taught at the Academy.

A few minutes passed, filled with general conversation and storytelling as the pilots caught up or got to know each other for the first time. After a bit the hatch opened again, this time admitting Hunter. Drac raised a hand in greeting, "How goes it, Master Chief? Sorry about earlier...I was a bit preoccupied." Hunter waived the topic away and joined the conversation, meeting Van for the first time and greeting Carpet by name. There was another topic on Drac's mind, though, and he brought it up before he could forget again, "Hunter. Have you heard anything from Driver yet? He hasn't contacted me since my return, so I don't know what our ETA to launch is."

"I'm not certain either, Drac, but I know it won't be for a while. In fact," Hunter glanced around at the gathering, "I think we have time to introduce Van and Carpet to Nazgul in style, as well as to welcome DarianRogue back. Let’s head to the bar over on level 238.” Raising his voice, he called out, “Okay, Nazzies. We’ve got a bit of a wait, so follow me and we’ll show you all how Nazgul says hello!”

-------------

Drac smiled, watching Rocketman explaining his moves and counter-moves in a long ago dogfight. The longtime pilot was just a little tipsy after an hour or two in the bar, which seemed to only make the story better. For his own part, Drac slowly nursed a mug of green stuff. He didn’t drink much as a rule, and the green stuff was one of the few drinks he could stomach. In fact, the half-empty mug before him was his first of the day.

Rocketman, on the other hand, was sitting behind an empty mug, as were several other Nazzies. Most of the squadron was a couple mugs in, but still a long way from being incapacitated. About half of the group was listening to Rocketman’s story, while the rest of the squadron played low-stakes Sabbacc. Having folded out of the current hand, Drac volunteered to get refills for those who needed one. The idea was met with general approval, and the Mon Cal quickly found himself loaded down with half a dozen mugs. Tapping Stewart-Power on the shoulder, he handed a few to his wingman before heading for the bar. Stewart followed along behind, snaking through the crowded room.

The pair arrived at the bar after a brief struggle with the cross traffic and handed their mugs off to one of the bartenders to be refilled. As they were waiting another pair of pilots bellied up to the bar on a similar mission originating from the other side of the room. The two humans were already quite drunk, to the extent that Drac suspected they were on Leave. They’d better be, or they’d better hope their next mission involves no obstacles whatsoever.

Drac had already dismissed the two from his thoughts when a hand tapped him roughly on the shoulder. Turning around, he looked at the man curiously. Laughing drunkenly, the pilot tapped him on the chest, “Hey! Who let your kind in here, squid-head? Thought this was a bar, not a slum.”

Gritting his teeth, Drac grasped his left wrist where a combat knife lay hidden under his sleeve. Forcing his hand away, he controlled his anger at the specist slur, ”I’ve the same right to be here as you, Petty Officer…and I would suggest that you refrain from saying such things to anyone much less someone of higher rank.”

The Petty Officer 2nd Class finally looked at the insignia on Drac’s uniform, but failed to process the repercussions of his words, “Well, lookie there. Did you have to threaten legal action to get that rank? And in Nazgul too. Didn’t know they let nonhumans into the elite units. What’s the Vast Empire coming to? All these kriffing squid-heads and lizards walking around like they own the place...”

Behind him Drac felt Stewart begin to move forward and held out an arm to stop the other pilot. I know how Stewart feels, but we really cannot afford to start a fight right now. Still, it would almost be a relief if this void-brain threw a punch. I almost wish he would. Shaking his head, the Mon Cal replied calmly, “What it’s coming to, Petty Officer, is a court-martial on the charges of specism and harassment of a superior. What are your name and service number?”

“Like hell!” Rearing back, the man lashed out with a right hook that caught Drac square on the mouth and knocked him back into Stewart-Power. Stewart caught him before he could hit the floor, and Drac shook his head to clear it. Touching his lip, he found it split and bleeding. Well. Wish granted. This nerfherder has no luck at all…if he’d been lucky, that would have earned him a 2 on the list of things you don’t do: Piss of Nazgul squadron. But he isn’t lucky…no, he got number 1: Piss of Nazgul squadron while we’re drunk. I almost feel sorry for him…

Straightening quickly and using Stewart as a springboard, Drac drove a lightning jab straight into the human’s nose. The man reeled back, crimson blood splashing from the targeted area. …almost. Before either of the human pilots could react, Drac shoved a tray of drinks to the floor between them causing a loud crash. The bar fell silent as everyone, including the Nazguls, looked over. Wiping at his lip and giving his squadron a slightly too enthusiastic smile, Drac sipped from the mug he’d taken when he knocked the tray down and pointed at the humans with one thumb, “Nazgul! Take ‘em!” Lunging forward, he smashed the unlucky pilot over the head with the mug as Stewart-Power jumped at the second pilot and the rest of the squadron left their seats.

OOC:
Word count: 1639
FL/CPO Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1][NSR:H][NT:H]

He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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[This message has been edited by Drac (edited October 15, 2009 12:33:16 AM)]
[This message has been edited by Drac (edited October 15, 2009 12:35:52 AM)]
Hunter-Morrell
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 15, 2009 7:55:04 PM    View the profile of Hunter-Morrell 
Strolling behind the rest of Nazgul, Hunter watched the rest of them chat aimlessly about nothing in particular, his mind on other things. Sighing, he jogged forward a few steps to where Drac was standing near the rear of the group. Hunter tapped him on the shoulder and Drac half-turned his head, swiveling his eye to look at Hunter.


Scowling, Hunter said, “Stop that! You know I hate it when you do that.”

“I know you do. Whats up?” Drac said with a quirk of his lips.

“I'm going to have to leave for a little while. I have to attend to some business. I trust you can take care of the children while I'm gone. Remember, they give you any trouble, give me a call. Not that you can't take care of it yourself, but I do have my ways.” Hunter said with a slightly sadistic grin.

He chuckled slightly as Carpet, who was standing to Drac's right, turned his head and stared at Hunter with a scared look on his face.

“Alright. Just don't be too long or they might get themselves killed. We are going to a bar, remember? Cocky pilots are much worse when they're drunk.” Drac said, nodding as he talked.

With a small wave, Hunter turned down a corridor and stopped to consult his datapad. No matter how long he spent on this frakking ship, he always managed to get lost. With a shake of his head, Hunter closed down his datapad and set off towards his destination.
~~~45 minutes later~~~


Hunter rounded the corner and walked towards the bar. He wasn't planning on drinking anything, having quit alcohol not too long ago. He rounded the corner into the corridor that led to the bar and stopped, frowning. Two men, pilots by the look of their uniforms, had just walked through the bar doors. What had worried Hunter however, was the murderous look on their faces. Straining his ears, he caught the distant rumbles and shouts of fighting.

Oh no. I can't believe they already picked a fight with someone. Great, now I'm going to have to sort this out.

Rolling his eyes, he set off on a steady jog towards the open bar doors. As he got closer, the sounds of fighting grew louder. When he finally reached the bar and entered into what looked to be a war-torn room. Tables and chairs were strewn all around the room, some in various states of disrepair. It looked like a bomb had gone off followed by a mortar shell. Broken bits of glasses littered the floor while a  few pieces were actually embedded in the wall. With all the dangerous things just waiting to injure an unwary being, the pilots were still fighting. Picking out a few of his own members on their feet from the steadily moving crowd, he noted with satisfaction that more Nazgul pilots were standing than their opponents.

This looks good . . . I can't believe I'm actually considering letting this figh -no, brawl is more like it – continue. Bah. Whatever. As long as they don't mess with me, I'll let it continue. Its good for them to bleed off anger and repressed feelings.

Staying near the wall, Hunter made his way to the bar to sit down on one of the stools that were attached to the floor. Turning around, he leaned back against the bar to watch the massive brawl.

Drac seems to be holding his own. He has a busted nose . . . or what passes for a nose on a  Mon Calamarian. Van is facing off against two other pilots and ouch. He just got nailed, right in the jaw. Darian is out cold in a corner and Carpet is back-to-back with Rocketman and both seem to be holding off a few other pilots. But all good things must come to an end.

Turning his head, Hunter caught the eye of the flustered bartender, who seemed to be deciding on whether to shoot the lot of them or call security, and motioned him over.

“You want me to stop them?” Hunter asked.

“If you can.” the bartender said, looking hopeful.

Nodding, Hunter turned back to the group and sighed slowly. Standing up he walked into the midst of the fighting and was immediately assaulted by a halfway drunk pilot, who was slurring his speech slightly, but steady on his feet. Reluctant to throw any punches, Hunter dodged the other man's punch and grabbed his arms, taking advantage of the man's considerable weight and height by pulling to the side and bringing the man off balance and onto the floor. He rushed over to Drac and pulled the Chief Petty Officer to the side, out of the way of a punch that had been aimed at the back of the Mon Calamarian's head and that would of knocked him out. Drac offered a quick thanks before the assailant was on them. He went for Drac first and that allowed Hunter to tackle him, straight to the gut, which forced the breath out of him and drove him into the wall. Stepping back from the wheezing pilot, Hunter walked up to Drac.

“What happened here?” Hunter exclaimed.

“That guy that you just tackled insulted me and then attacked me. I was defending myself.” Drac stated, spreading his hands.

With a wry smile, Hunter shook his head in silent mirth.

“Alright. Clean this trash up guys. I'm heading back to the squadron room.” he said as he backed out of the bar, dodging a few wild kicks and punches as he did so and thrusting a forearm into another's shoulder which sent the pilot spinning.

OOC:
WC: 935. Now this is just from my point of view. I didn't see the whole fight. I just cleared it up enough for you guys to finish it. You don't have to post about ending the fight. You can post about the fight from your point of view.
Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell
XO/MCPO Hunter-Morrell/Nazgul 5/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE [CBV][BRC][BWC][MC:1]
Stewart-Power
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Stewart-Power
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 15, 2009 10:58:23 PM    View the profile of Stewart-Power 
=====Bar=====

Thel Stewart-Power wasn't a very good melee fighter, in fact he was pretty much horrible, but at least he could hold is own in a bar-fight. He hadn't gotten into many, but the ones that he did get in usually involved Trandoshans, So he could at least fight. On the plus side, these weren't professional fighters; these were ale-addled pilots whose fist were bigger then their brains.

The bar was perfectly asymmetrical. One half was littered with the remains of drinks, table, trays, anything that wasn't nailed down. Meanwhile the other half of the room looked like an average bar. Most of the people where in the disaster zone, either in one-on-one fights or other assorted team-ups. The few people on the other weren't sure whether to join the fight, or leave before anybody with the authority to stop the fight shows up.

Thel Jumped at the second of the pilots who started the, luckily he was also the smaller of the two. He head butted the human pilot on the jaw, followed a swift uppercut. While the other pilot's head was up in the air, Thel swung with his other arm and hit him in the stomach, bringing his bloodied chin swinging down again as the air was knocked out of him. Thel then swung elbow down into the pilot back, right in between the collarbones.

The human pilot went down, but recovered enough too stop his fall with his left arm, then he grabbed Thel's leg with his other arm, and, using Thel's leg as a support, he swung his left arm into Thel's ribcage. With his breath knocked out him, he barely even noticed Van, as he tackled Thel's assailant. Thel went down as well, but Van gave him a hand getting back up, but not before he gave the other pilot a swift kick.
"And stay down" Thel said.

By then the entire bar was a mess, not a single thing was left standing. Except The corner of the bar by the door, where Thel thought he saw the XO. Fixating on that one corner with a Mon Calamari stare, which involved turning one eye completely in the direction of the stare, He looked around with his other eye at the rest of the bar. He couldn't find a man (or alien) standing that didn't have a Nazgul emblem on them.

Except of course the bartender, who was now conversing with Hunter.

“What happened here?” Hunter exclaimed.

“That guy that you just tackled insulted me and then attacked me. I was defending myself.” Drac stated, spreading his hands.

“Alright. Clean this trash up guys. I'm heading back to the squadron room.” he said as he backed out of the bar, dodging a few wild kicks and punches as he did so and thrusting a forearm into another's shoulder which sent the pilot spinning.

Thel straightened out a table that had been knocked over beside him, and thought:

"If were gonna' make a mess, where gonna' clean it up, and knowing us. Where gonna' make a mess"

OOC:
Word Count: 511 Bar fights are fun, we have to do this more often...
FM/LCRW Stewart-Power/Nazgul 15/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=A=)
                  "Thel"

R.C.S.C.C. 221 Patriot
(Sea Cadets)
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"It took the crisis of national survival in 1940, to make [Winston] Churchill suddenly Prime-Minister. Left to burden the responsibility for losing the war, which he famously failed to do."

A Mari Usque Ad Mare.. .Ad Mare... (From Sea to Sea... to Sea...) -Latin

Clearly Canadian!
[This message has been edited by Stewart-Power (edited October 15, 2009 11:00:10 PM)]
Carpet
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Carpet
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 16, 2009 5:19:56 AM    View the profile of Carpet 
Carpet jumped up from the table he was sat at as the piece of furniture and the pilot who had just crashed into it flew across the room. Fresh from the academy he had never seen anything like this on an Imperial ship, nor had he much experience of it back home before he joined the Navy. But now somehow, during his first drinking session with Nazgul Squadron, all hell had broken loose.
It was like a scene straight out of an outer rim cantina, tables and chairs were either flying through the air, or else toppled over on to the floor, the sound of smashing glass, vicious shouting and the impact of punches meeting their targets echoed through the room.
Carpet hadn't really seen what had happened. All he knew, was at first hint of trouble his squadron were on their feet with a hard and determined look on their faces.

Now looking around the bar Carpet was able to take in the chaos unfolding around him. Darian had left his seat next to Carpet and was darting toward the toward front of the bar. Through the sea of fighting he could see Drac with what appeared to be a split lip and Stewart facing off a sizable crowd leering angrily towards them. He couldn't see any other fellow Nazguls off hand but it was clear that this had turned into a Squadron Vs. Squadron bar fight.

Carpet really didn't know how to react, Getting into a fight on your first day is no way to start a career, he thought to himself. Perhaps it would be best just to leave? he considered. But he couldn't just sit back and not help out his new Squadron, that would make him look like a coward and that would be equally bad, no, worse! The fact that practically everyone here outranked the man didn't help the matter either, he knew that if there were to be fingers pointed after all of this, they would probably be pointing in his direction, at the new guy. He cringed at the thought of what Driver and Hunter were going to say about this when they found out.
Then suddenly, a flicker caught his eye.

Quickly snapping back to reality Carpet noticed that some of the crowd had now broken off the main group and were rapidly headed his way. No, they were already here. His lapse in concentration had cost him, and Carpet had no time to react to the charging man headed in his direction. The crazed pilot rammed straight into him sending Carpet staggering off balance backwards as he tried to deflect the stampeding man off to one of his sides. On the verge of tubmling head over heals he came to a dead stop as a hand grabbed him by the shoulder preventing him from falling, another hand shot past his right, cracking the charging idiot square on the nose spattering blood down his face and ensuring he would miss the rest of this fight, with a deep thud he fell into a pile on the floor.
Allowing just a second to check behind him to identify his helper, Carpet caught a glimpse of Rocketman who had now turned his back to Carpet's and was looking threatening to yet another set of would be attackers.

"Thanks Rocketman, what in the blazes is happening here?" Carpet shouted behind him as he elbowed another charging attacker in the face deflecting this one off to his left.
"Well, we said we'd show you a good time didn't we?" Rocketman shouted back. "Besides you'll never forget your first day at Nazgul now, kid".

Thats true, Carpet thought to himself. And I'm sure the days in the brig we'll be spending for this will be just as memorable he admonished.
Like it or not, he was a part of this brawl, and it was showing no sign of breaking up. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists Carpet prepared for the rest of the fight. Wishing that the Academy at least offered a basic hand to hand combat course. And with that, he headed into the crowd.

OOC:
Word Count: 691
FM/SCRW Adaha “Carpet” Tatham/Nazgul 1-3/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/
(=*A*=)

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Wiki Page: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Carpet

Because any other Carpet is just a Rug...
Drac
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Drac
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 17, 2009 11:24:25 AM    View the profile of Drac 
==Starting Before Hunter Arrived==

Drac lifted his hands into a guard as the two pilots who’d started the fight closed in shoulder to shoulder, the first one still blinking to clear his vision after being hit over the head. He could tell that they, like most pilots, didn’t do a lot of ground fighting. It was their unlucky day since Drac, like all veterans of Nazgul, had plenty of experience in fighting on his feet. In his time with the squadron he’d actually amassed more ground kills than he had in dogfighting. The only thing they had going for them was the fact that he knew he couldn’t risk killing them. I’ve seen what that would get me, and it’s not good.

Ducking under a punch aimed at him by the pilot who hadn’t spoken yet, the taller of the two, Drac grabbed the man’s wrist and jerked him forward. Off balance, the man stumbled forward into the punch the Mon Calamari drove into his stomach. He curled over, holding his stomach, and Drac laid him out unconscious with a sharp thrust of his elbow into the back of the unlucky pilot’s head.

The Mon Calamari tried to turn back toward the pilot who’d started this mess, but found himself facing three other opponents. By this point the bar had exploded into a free-for-all of individual and group fights. Who did or said what had already ceased to matter and it was every unit for itself. No one even looked to see who they attacked so long as their target had another unit’s patch. Shrugging, Drac launched himself into the trio, knocking the entire group off their feet. He rotated himself upon landing, turning to straddle the chest of the center pilot. Before the twi’lek could recover, Drac shot a pair of jabs into his face, followed by a hook that turned the other pilot’s head.

A heavy kick sent Drac rolling under a table before he could continue his punishment of the twi’lek. He sat up, banging his head on the underside of the table and knocking it over and sending the mugs and plates resting on it crashing to the floor. Looking around, he located his assailant: a human approximately the size of a wookie and about a meter wide at the shoulders. He can’t possibly be a pilot, can he? How would he fit through the cockpit hatch? Drac thought to himself. He’d have continued the train of thought but the giant was heading his way now, flexing his fists in a manner that gave the Mon Calamari cause for concern.

Looking down, Drac caught sight of a mug that had fallen with the table and then rolled around to this side of it. He grabbed it as the giant started forward at a fast walk, whipping his arm toward his opponent and launching the glass at him. The mug hit the man in the forehead, ricocheting off and disappearing into the chaos. The man stopped, stunned, and Drac took the opportunity to dive at his legs, catching him at the knees. The man went down as both knees locked out, whacking the back of his head on another table, and Drac sighed in relief. He didn’t enjoy facing enemies quite that much larger than him. He turned away, looking for another opponent.

Before the Chief Petty Officer could take more than a step or two, though, huge hands grasped him by the neck and right thigh. He struggled, flailing, but there wasn’t any hope of breaking the durasteel grip of the giant. Drac yelled as he felt himself being lifted off the ground. The human held him up, horizontal, above the crowd. This isn’t good at all…in fact, I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt. A lot. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, the crowd below a blur of colors. One image stood out for the briefest moment: Carpet looking back up at him with his jaw hanging open. Yeah, he’ll definitely remember his first day as a Nazzie. Half a second later Drac landed, bouncing off one of the combatants before sliding across a table and going over with it. Laying spread-eagled on the floor, he took stock of his limbs. Both arms? Intact. Legs? Still there. Head and torso? No serious damage. Huh. I’m almost disappointed. That should have been good for a broken arm at least. Oh well, I’ll take my luck as it comes to me. Time to get back into this. He clambered to his feet, looking around to see who was nearby. Before he could do anything a hand grabbed him and pulled him to the side. He rolled an eye back to see who it was and got a pleasant surprise in the form of the squadron’s XO. His other eye tracked the man Hunter had pulled him away from, who was now charging. He watched as the Master Chief intercepted the poor guy with a flying tackle before turning back to face Drac, “What happened here?” Hunter exclaimed.

“That guy that you just tackled insulted me and then attacked me. I was defending myself.” Drac stated, spreading his hands.

Hunter considered that for a moment, then shook his head with a smirk, “Alright. Clean this trash up guys. I'm heading back to the squadron room.”

Drac forced his mouth into a smile, wincing at his smashed and split lip. He could still see two of the other squadron's pilots standing, and it looked like another might be getting back up soon. Looking around the room as Hunter left, he saw most of the Nazguls still on their feet and more or less intact. Stewart, standing a few feet away, righted a table that had been knocked over in the fight. Drac held a hand up, "That's not the trash Hunter was talking about, Ten. We're not quite done here..." as he spoke the hatch opposite the one Hunter had used opened, revealing another four pilots. The newcomers caught sight of the Nazzies and charged, yelling. "...in fact, we're not even close to done yet. I hate it when they call in reinforcements."

He’d already started toward the oncoming pilots when a shout stopped him, “Drac! The new guy’s down. He’s hurt bad!” Whirling toward the voice Drac saw Dairy kneeling by Van, who was lying on the floor motionless.

“Sithspit.” Drac motioned the rest of the squadron toward the newcomers as he sprinted toward the newest addition to his flight. He knelt on Van’s other side when he got there, his fingers seeking the young man’s neck. He was relieved to find a pulse, but alarmed to see the extent of the pilot’s injuries. Van’s right arm lay at an odd angle, probably broken, and blood covered one side of his face from a nasty glass cut. Standing, he snagged Vermin’s arm as the pilot rushed by. “You and Dairy, pick him up and get him to a med bay. Find something level to carry him on and be careful! We don’t know what sort of internal injuries he may have.” Turning to Dairy, he snarled, “Who did this to him?” The pilot pointed toward one of the few non-Nazzies left standing: a tall rodian with a scarred face. “Right. Get him out of here. I’ll deal with this sithspawn.”

OOC:
Word Count: 1224
FL/CPO Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1][NSR:H][NT:H]

He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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Rocketman1167
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 17, 2009 10:47:28 PM    View the profile of Rocketman1167 
Rocket than decides that it would be a good time to go see if anybody was in the meeting room which was not too far for being a couple floors down from the hanger he was on. The time that it would take for him to get there would be a thirty minute walk which was not bad for the fact that the ship that he was on was huge and it usually took him an hour to a couple hours for him to get where he was going. On the way to the meeting room Rocket gets a text on his comlink which says that there is a new person in his flight and a message for him to report to the meeting room because there would be information that he would have to listen to for the upcoming mission.

Thirty Minutes Later

As Rocket enters the door to the meeting room he notices that most of the squadron is already there plus someone new. Well at least the new guy is here I just hope that Driver gets here soon so that I can learn what the next mission is. Rocket walks up to the new person so they can get acquaintances out of the way

“Hey man I am Rocketman and you are.”
“I am Carpet I am in first flight.” Looks around nervously
“Me too I am the SC wingmate.”
“So how long have you been with the squadron?”
“For awhile”
“I see so was this your first squadron?”
“No it’s my third but that is a long story.”
“I see so you’ve seen a lot of combat?”
“Enough to know my way around a fighter.”
“Okay”
“Anyway I need to check to see if my stuffs in my locker still see you.”

And with that Rocket hears the door shut and looks over to find Hunter standing in the doorway. Drac raised a hand in greeting, "How goes it, Master Chief? Sorry about earlier...I was a bit preoccupied." Hunter waived the topic away and joined the conversation, meeting Van for the first time and greeting Carpet by name. "Hunter. Have you heard anything from Driver yet? He hasn't contacted me since my return, so I don't know what our ETA to launch is." Rocket heard Drac saying.

"I'm not certain either, Drac, but I know it won't be for a while. In fact," Hunter glanced around at the gathering, "I think we have time to introduce Van and Carpet to Nazgul in style, as well as to welcome DarianRogue back. Let’s head to the bar over on level 238.” Raising his voice, he called out, “Okay, Nazzies. We’ve got a bit of a wait, so follow me and we’ll show you all how Nazgul says hello!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Rocket starts to explain about the Operation Trojan Horse which he explained was his first mission and that he was assigned with Viper and that he almost backfired his systems because of the fact that he was so nervous. He explained about the constant system failures that happened in the tie fighter that he was in and that he almost got shot down because of the condition of the fighter. Actually I am surprised that I made it out of there alive than I should have died, well I do have that luck streak going for me right now. Takes the rest of his drink down and hands it Drac once he says that he is going to get more. Carpet asks “Why did the fighter have so many failures.” “They said that whoever put the shields in did not install them right and that interfered with the other systems.”

As Rocket finishes that sentence he hears a tray of drinks crash to the floor which causes him to stop talking and look to where the drunken guy had done that so that he can yell at him for interrupting his story. The bar fell silent as everyone, including the Nazguls, looked over. Rocket noticed the blood on Drac lip; here we go again they pissed him off again. Well to bad for them. Rocket watched Drac as he wiped his lip and giving him a slightly too enthusiastic smile, Drac sipped from the mug he’d taken when he knocked the tray down and pointed at the humans with one thumb, “Nazgul! Take ‘em!” Lunging forward, he smashed the unlucky pilot over the head with the mug as Stewart-Power jumped at the second pilot and the rest of the squadron left their seats.

The first thought in Rockets head was I wonder if the new people can fight well this is a good time to find out. Rocket gets out of his seat and walks to the nearest table and takes a full mug from the table and slams it and looks around for the first victim of his rage against this persons that think that they can treat Nazgul like crap he finds the first one trying to bulrush Carpet and took three quick steps and put his right hand on Carpet’s shoulder and sent his left palm to the attackers nose crushing his nose and knocking him out. Rocket pivots so that his back is to Carpet’s and hears Carpet say "Thanks Rocketman, what in the blazes is happening here?" "Well, we said we'd show you a good time didn't we?" "Besides you'll never forget your first day at Nazgul now, kid". “Also don’t get hit in the face alright I will try to help you out once I am done with these over here.”

As Rocket finishes saying that he catches a fist and twists it once he hears a snap he releases it and gets hit in the right leg which causes him to move slightly move a little but he quickly regains his balance and throws a kick at the direction that the swing came  from and smiles as he feels his foot connect with a soft thing that he assumes is flesh and looks around to see if he has any more opponents and finds that the one that threw the punch now with a broken wrist has lost of his concentration and is now filled with pure rage as he gets ready for a charge. Rocket reaches behind him and grabs Carpets arm and pulls him with him as he moves to dodge the bulrush. As the opponent starts to run past him Rocket puts his palm out and hits him in the chest and smiles as he falls.

That’s two by my count if my kick connected on the one that tried to make me fall. With that Rocket looks around and notices that most of Nazgul is still on their feet and that most of the other squadron is pretty much down. Rocket turns around and says to Carpet “Well like we said welcome to Nazgul people regret messing with us even on the ground because we don’t like people thinking that they are better than us. Also good job out there you can use some improvement but that’s a good start. ”

OOC:
1184 words just my option on how the barfight went.
There are many aspects of the Force we have no knowledge of. The subject still requires further research and study.

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FM/SCRW/ Rocketman/ Nazgul 1-2/ Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st fleet/VEN/VE[=A=](MC1)(NSR:H)(NT:H)(BWC)

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[This message has been edited by Rocketman (edited October 17, 2009 10:49:01 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Rocketman (edited October 17, 2009 11:16:51 PM)]
Valkyrie
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 18, 2009 11:06:18 AM    View the profile of Valkyrie 
Valkyrie had arrived on the SSD Atrus with nothing but his duffel, the clothes on his back, and a map of the ship a few hours prior on board a standard troop transport. At the time, he had marvelled at the size and glory of the Super dreadnought, but as he wandered the decks with a map supplied to him by an officer he soon found himself hating the massive battleship. He was lost somewheres between deck 10 and deck 100, just wandering about, having discarded the useless paper map after the first hour.

After what seemed like forever, he had finally decided to ask a passerby where Nazgul Squadron would hold their briefings, figuring that that would be the place where he would most likely have orientation with either his flight leader or a squadron commander, and to his surprise, he was only about 100 meters off. In a few short minutes he was outside Nazgul's general meeting area and taking a deep breath, he stepped through the automatic door. Even as he looked around the silence betrayed the rooms emptiness, he felt it would probably be a good idea to just stay put and wait for someone so thats exactly what he did, but as he was choosing where to sit, he heard two crewmen talking in the hall as they hurried by. A large group of Nazgul pilots were engaged in a bar fight in one of the bars and it was apparently a pretty vicious brawl with no signs of letting up. Thinking fast, Valkyrie decided it would really be best that he at least look presentable for the rest of the squadron and not get tangled up in a fight on his first day, so he chose to stay in the briefing room and wait for his orders.
Quote:Sorry for it being so short, Im just not sure how to proceed or become directly involved at the moment o.o 302 words
FM/SCRW Valkyrie/Nazgul 7/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)
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"...There are so many deserving of retribution_And there is so little time."
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Drac
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Drac
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 23, 2009 4:27:05 PM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac continued to examine Van for a few more moments and was alarmed to see find a large knot on the back of the pilot’s head. Sithspit. His skull had better not be cracked or someone will pay in kind. Shaking his head, he pulled out his comlink and turned it to Hunter’s frequency, “Hunter, this is Drac. Please respond.”

“Hunter here. If you’re calling me there’ve been problems. What’s wrong?”

“Van is down. Some vapebait Rodian knocked him out and proceeded to beat him. He’s in bad condition- may have a busted skull and certainly has a broken arm. The other team just got some reinforcements, too, and we’re outnumbered. There’s no telling if they have more coming. I think we’d better call this game before more pilots go down with serious injuries.”

“Copy that. Make sure that Rodian’s still there when I arrive. I’ll want to speak with him.”

“Oh, he’ll be here. Don’t worry about that.” the Mon Calamari growled, menace carrying through his voice.

“Drac…” Hunter’s half worried, half amused voice cut off as the Chief Petty Officer turned off the comlink.

Standing up, Drac gestured to Vermin & Dairy as the two pilots carried their downed comrade away, Drac turned toward the Rodian. He flexed his fingers, feeling his hands beginning to swell, and advanced on the vapebait stupid enough to seriously injure a member of his squadron. He was able to head straight for the green-skinned pilot, thanks to the efforts of the rest of Nazgul. Those Nazzies that remained standing were taking the new group of pilots apart with a will even though their opponents were fresh and unhurt.

Reaching the Rodian, the Chief Petty Officer grabbed his opponent by the shoulder and spun him around. He paused for a split second, letting the Crewman get a look at him. What the rodian saw was a relatively short Mon Calamari with blood smeared across his face and bright orange eyes burning in his dark skin. Then two things caught his eye in quick succession. The first was the Nazgul patch on Drac’s uniform with the flight leader insignia beside it. The second was Drac’s right fist. The Rodian went down hard, cracking his head on a table as he fell.

Drac glared at the recumbent alien, growling, “So, you enjoy seriously damaging my pilots, do you? You went too far this time, vapebait.” Stepping in, the Mon Cal unleashed a vicious kick between the unlucky pilot’s legs, then drew back and smashed another kick into his face as he curled up in pain. The second kick straightened the Crewman out and opened his ribs to a third kick, which Drac promptly administered. Then, kneeling down to grab a fistful from the front of the other pilot’s uniform, he pulled him upright and plunged his fist into the Rodian’s stomach repeatedly. When the Rodian blearily lifted his hands to defend himself, Drac changed his target. Swinging his arm out wide, he delivered three open handed slaps as hard and fast as he could make them. Each slap rocked his opponent’s head to the side.

Gasping, the Rodian pleaded with the enraged Mon Calamari, “Please…stop. I…I’m…done…I won’t…fight any more…”

“You should have thought of that before you tore up my pilot.”

A sneer crossed the Rodian’s face briefly, “He was…weak… Easy prey.”

Drac wiped the sneer off with a backhanded slap, “Who’s the weakling here?” The Rodian winced, blinking to clear his vision. What he saw wasn’t fun. Holding the alien a bit further away, he drove a sharp jab into the Rodian’s short ribs…and then another...and then another. When he finished, his opponent has ceased to gasp. In all honesty, he’d mostly ceased to breathe.

The Rodian hung in Drac’s durasteel grip, head lolling to one side. His nose leaked a thin stream of blood, as did cuts on both lips. His eye, the one that wasn’t swelling shut, gazed blindly straight ahead. The pilot’s arms hung at his sides and he was still slightly bent over from the kicks he’d received. The Chief Petty Officer examined his work, nodded to himself, and leaned in close, whispering, “You’re getting off easy. I wouldn’t mind killing you for what you did, but you’ll have one chance to learn your lesson. Hurt a Nazgul again and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life…and I guarantee that would be a very, very short time.”  Securing his grip on the Rodian’s collar, Drac reached down and grabbed the waistband of his uniform. Whirling around and lifting the other pilot, he threw him onto the bar’s countertop and watched him slide over the edge and drop to the floor on the far side.

OOC:
Word Count: 786

Sorry for the short post. Didn't have time to meet my usual standard.
FL/CPO Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1][NSR:H][NT:H]

He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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Hunter-Morrell
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Hunter-Morrell
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 23, 2009 7:08:00 PM    View the profile of Hunter-Morrell 
They’ll be fine without me. They can handle themselves. Well, at least I know Drac can. The others haven’t proved themselves yet.

Sighing deeply, Hunter retreated back to his quarters in the area assigned to Nazgul. Punching the door panel, he slipped inside before the door had fully opened. Grinning slightly at the work he had done to the door, he nodded appreciatively to his own technical aptitude. He had managed to hack into the ship’s system, which wasn’t too hard considering he wasn’t looking for anything top secret and didn’t come across many obstacles, and accessed that certain door. Tinkering around with it, he managed to make it where it’ll open only halfway and close back immediately after he had entered or left instead of having a three or four second delay like the other doors.

Oh how I hate those cursed delays.

Hunter was a private person, preferring to keep his room’s contents hidden to most people. There were a few occasions where he allowed people to enter his room, mostly just the few close friends he had gained during his time in the VE. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide; he just didn’t like other people looking at his things. It was just the way he worked and he liked it that way. Walking over to his bed, he rarely slept here, preferring to take a nap wherever he happened to be at the time he got tired, and so as a result of that, the bed was cluttered with different odds and ends such as broken devices and things that he was in the process of fixing up. Glancing around the room, he noticed his closet door was ajar. Frowning, he stood up and strode over to it, pushing it fully open. He didn’t notice anything missing or out of place, so he closed the door back, still frowning. Stepping back, he jumped slightly as a knock on his door echoed around the room.

“Who is it?” Hunter said, remembering that most of Nazgul, with the exception of Atrasin, was presumably in the bar still fighting.

Grabbing the nearest gun, which happened to be a “Bull Stopper” semi-automatic pistol, he quietly snuck up to the side of door.

“Uh . . . I’m Valkyrie. I was placed in Nazgul not too long ago and was told to report here. I heard noises coming from in your room so I came to see what was going on.” a slightly scared voice said.

With a quick movement, Hunter opened the door and stuck his pistol out, apparently straight into the face of the new recruit. Leaning around the halfway open door, Hunter stared at the recruit until the human stepped back, realizing he was too close to the door for Hunter to step out. Lowering the gun to his side, Hunter stepped through the door, keeping a foot inside the room.

“Who are you?” the recruit, Valkyrie, asked quietly, his eyes not moving from the gun at Hunter’s side.

“Hunter-Morrell. Executive Officer of Nazgul. Oh sorry. I only brought this out for show. It’s not even loaded, see?” Hunter said, lifting up the gun and opening the chamber, showing it was empty.

He noticed Valkryie flinch slightly as Hunter lifted the gun and grimaced slightly.

Great. Jumpy little twit is going to get someone killed, most likely himself.

With a sad shake of his head, Hunter leaned back into his room and threw the gun onto the bed. Returning to the hallway, he crossed his arms and waited for Valkyrie to speak.

“What?” Valkyrie said slowly, apparently expecting something else to happen.

“Are you going to tell me in what flight you were placed or are you going to stand there all day looking at me?”

“Oh, sorry. I was placed in Two Flight, designation Nazgul 7.”

“Well, looks like you’re in my flight. Good luck and hope you can keep up.” Hunter said, giving the kid a nod and turning around to head back in his room.

“Uh, Hunter, sir? Where do I put my things at?” Valkyrie said.

“Just look through the rooms. If they look like they’re unoccupied, it’s yours. Just make extra sure it’s unoccupied before you take it because I’ll take no responsibility for anything that might happen if one of Nazgul finds you in their room.” Hunter said with a slight smirk.

With that, he turned and hit the door panel on his room, slipping in through as he had done plenty of times before. This time however, was a little different. It took him a few seconds to locate the disturbance. His comlink was chirping that annoying tune.

“One of these days, I’ll get that tune changed.” he muttered to himself as he walked over to the bed and picked up the comlink.

Bringing it to his ear, he noted the ID of the caller as Drac and answered the call, ““Hunter here. If you’re calling me there’ve been problems. What’s wrong?”

“Van is down. Some vapebait Rodian knocked him out and proceeded to beat him. He’s in bad condition- may have a busted skull and certainly has a broken arm. The other team just got some reinforcements, too, and we’re outnumbered. There’s no telling if they have more coming. I think we’d better call this game before more pilots go down with serious injuries.”

“Copy that. Make sure that Rodian’s still there when I arrive. I’ll want to speak with him.”

“Oh, he’ll be here. Don’t worry about that.” the Mon Calamari growled, menace carrying through his voice.

“Drac…” Hunter said, a little amused at the whole situation, despite his slight anxiety at Van’s condition.

Looking around his room, he gathered up a few weapons and left his room, passing Valkyrie in the corridor. He didn’t even acknowledge the recruit’s greeting, choosing to keep walking. As he left the Nazgul area, he broke into a jog that was soon a flat out run. He arrived at the bar not long after, rounding the corner and evaluating the scene before him. It was pure chaos. Punches and kicks were flying everywhere and Hunter could barely pick out Nazgul from the crowd. Weighing his options, Hunter decided on how to best disrupt the fight. Quickly reaching his decision, he unhooked the stun gas grenade from his belt and removed the pin. Drawing back his arm, he launched the stun gas grenade into the crowd, not wanting to cause any more damage to already destroyed bar. With a poof, the grenade released its stun gas and one by one, the beings began to sway and then drop to the ground.

Well that was easier than I thought. Now to separate them.

Quickly, Hunter pulled the now stunned combatants apart into two groups, Nazgul and non-Nazgul. Finishing up, he wiped his brow and his face, noticing that he had broken a sweat. Sitting down on a nearby stool, he leaned back against the bar and waited for the beings to awake.

OOC:
WC: 1169
Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell
XO/MCPO Hunter-Morrell/Nazgul 5/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE [CBV][BRC][BWC][MC:1]
Drac
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Drac
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 29, 2009 12:01:43 AM    View the profile of Drac 
Drac was rather doggedly beating on a Senior Crewman, a young pilot who looked to be about as green as Carpet and Van were. He'd been fighting for what felt like hours now, and fatigue had drained all enjoyment from the fight. A cold, hard knot of anticipation had eagerly volunteered to take its place. I know exactly what the consequences of this fight will be. Well...maybe not exactly, but I know they won't be fun for any of us. The Brass doesn't look favorably on Imperial pilots who attack each other, and especially not on units that take out more than their fair share of opponents.

With his thoughts traveling such dark paths, it was almost a relief when an odd, harsh smell hit the Mon Calamari and made him cough. As he gasped and snorted to clear his airways, he could feel his limbs grow heavy and his senses begin to fade. He let the Senior Crewman slip from nerveless fingers and watched, detached, as the other pilot flopped bonelessly to the ground. The single process distracted him, taking all his concentration as he staggered backward as if drunk. After a step or two he felt the rim of an overturned table brush the fingers of his right hand and held on to it for support. The gesture was of little use, though, as his fingers soon slacked their grip and he slowly folded down to the ground. His last conscious impression was of sitting, slumped, against the tabletop with his legs stretched out before him in a puddle of lomin ale. Then his head rolled forward and unconsciousness claimed him.

Drac came to some time later, slowly blinking the fog from his eyes. When he felt he could move without collapsing again, he lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around. The first thing that stood out to him was, almost literally, standing. A pair of feet tapped slowly, patiently on the floor near his head. They were attached to legs encased in a naval uniform. Craning his head, Drac looked up further and was relieved to find Hunter’s face looking back down at him from somewhere above the legs. The Master Chief reached down to offer a hand in assistance, saying, “I thought you might be the first one to wake up. Same thing happened back on Ator.”

Groaning softly, the Mon Calamari accepted the hand and levered himself up into a full sitting position, “Yeah…most of those knockout chemicals aren’t quite as effective on amphibians. You mammals get the full impact.” After a moment, Drac tested his legs and slowly stood up. Once he was on his two feet, he took stock. Overall, he was in surprisingly good condition. No broken bones or major lacerations made themselves known, though his lip was split and he had a couple of glass cuts on his face and another on his left hand. Turning, he glanced at the two groups of recumbent forms, to look at Hunter, he cocked his head to one side, “Was it really necessary to use the gas grenade? Or were you just curious about what it would be like?” Hunter just grinned. “Anyway. What’s our situation?”

The Master Chief just shrugged, “Everyone else is still out, though they should be up and around before too long. Unfortunately, I think whoever you sent to evacuate Van was forced to explain the circumstances.”

“What do you mean?” In reply, Hunter just pointed toward the hatch. Drac rolled his left eye over to aim it at the hatch and was greeted with the sight of a dozen military police filing through it with stun batons in hand and big frowns for all concerned. “Ah. Yeah, it would seem that is the case. Well, if we’re going to the brig, let’s enjoy the ride.” Pulling a chair upright and spinning it to stand beside Hunter’s, Drac leaned down and scooped up the half full bottle of the green stuff. Sitting down, he opened it and took a sip. He fought back a cough as he offered it to Hunter, who declined.

At that point an officer separated himself from the military police who were now checking the unconscious pilots and strode directly to the two flight leaders. He was clearly pissed. “Just what in the name of the Empire is going on here?”

Drac stood and saluted, carefully allowing the green stuff to pour out onto the floor. He hated to waste it, but some things weren’t meant for non Nazzies. “Sir. There was a fight.”

“I can see that, Chief Petty Officer,” the 1st Lieutenant growled, “I want you to tell me [b]exactly[/i] what happened here. Now!”

“Yes, sir. It actually started when I went over to the bar to get some re-fills…” Drac continued on from there, explaining what had happened. The Lieutenant listened patiently, though he was obviously still pissed.

---------

A half hour later Drac and the rest of Nazgul found themselves seated in a holding room at the Atrus’s internal security headquarters. They’d been taken there as soon as the rest of the squadron awoke. Everyone was in relatively good condition, though there wasn’t any word on Van. Dairy and Vermin had joined them soon after they’d arrived in the room, having been separated from Van as soon as they’d gotten him to a med center. The squadron was grouped up, everyone sharing stories about the fight and worrying about what would come next. For that matter, Drac was plenty worried himself, though he didn’t let it show. I’ve never been to the brig before. If Slasher was still here he’d probably say something about my not being a real Nazzie in that case. Hah. Rather than concentrating on his personal concerns, he did his best to encourage and assist the other Nazzies.

After another fifteen minutes the hatch drew back, opening to reveal a trio of military police. One, a Sergeant, stepped forward, “Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell and Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk, please step forward.” Glancing at each other, the pair stood and walked forward. When they got to the hatch, Drac spoke, “Look, if someone’s going to get busted for this, let it be me. Hunter came in and broke up the fight, he didn’t take part in it.”

The Sergeant never even blinked. His only response was to impassively reply, “That’s not my business, Chief Petty Officer. Please come with us, and do not resist.” Hunter nodded and stepped forward, winking at a low apology from Drac as he followed the Sergeant. The Mon Calamari fell into step behind Hunter and was followed from the room by the other two military police.

A short walk brought the pair to an office, into which they were directed. Stepping up to the desk, they saluted and held it until the Captain sitting on the other side returned the salute. The officer remained silent at that point, staring evenly at the pair. It was unnerving, and Drac found himself getting worried, I wonder where we go from here.

OOC:
Word Count: 1179
FL/CPO Drac/Nazgul 3-9/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Imperial Fleet/VEN/VE
(=*A*=)(=*SA*=) [SoA][MC:2][MC:1][NSR:H][NT:H]

He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.
Drac's VE Wiki Profile: http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Drac
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[This message has been edited by Drac (edited October 29, 2009 12:02:28 AM)]
Arturo
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 29, 2009 1:30:46 PM    View the profile of Arturo 
Well, this looks like fun.  Nazgul has got a  mission, judging by my orders, but getting to them will probably be the most dangerous part of the whole affair.

Arturo stood in the doorway of the Naval Academy’s main hangar, eyeballing his assigned transportation.  He didn’t like what he saw.  Before him stood a dirty, creaky wreck of a Lambda shuttle.  It was an earlier model, to boot.  It appeared to be the only ship in the hangar at the moment, which was why Arturo was stuck riding what appeared to be a deathtrap.

Nothin’ to do but go for it and grit my teeth, I suppose.  I just hope I don’t look as uncomfortable as I really am right now, though.

He hefted his duffel and flight gear bag, and strode over to the landing ramp of the shuttle.  A mechanic appeared to be servicing the shuttle’s starboard engine, even as the pilot appeared to be doing his preflight warm-ups.  Arturo shook his head, steeled himself, and walked up the gangplank.
 
Good thing this is only a twenty-minute flight.

The pilot, a Quarren, welcomed him and bid him well.  Arturo coolly returned the gesture, and took a seat.  A moment later, he felt the shuttle’s repulsors kick in, and it eased out of the hangar. 
He gripped his armrests tightly, and couldn’t wait to get to the Atrus.


-------------------

As he walked down the gangplank, at a quicker clip than his normal pace, Arturo paused for a moment when he hit the deck of the Main Hangar.  He stood in awe for a moment, at the sheer number of vessels stowed in the hangar.

They’ve got hordes of Interceptors, shuttles, gunboats, bombers, you name it.  What’s more, all of them are kept in good repair, unlike that piece of space junk I flew in on just now.  You’d never know the Empire was run out of town by working in here your whole life, if nobody told you.

After his brief recovery from a wretched flight aboard a wretched shuttle, Arturo decided his first stop should be somewhere where he could get some liquor, in order to calm his nerves, which were still very frayed.  Damned Quarren.  Where’d he get a pilot’s license, anyhow?  A video game arcade?

On his datapad, he called up a map of the surrounding decks, and located both his quarters, and the nearest bar.  Nodding to himself, Arturo set off in the direction of his quarters, moving at his usual terse pace.
 
He stashed his bags in his quarters on the way.  Imagine that, they gave me a room in between the two places I’m gonna be going to the most: the hangar and the bar.  How kind of them.
 
After five minutes hastily unpacking his few possessions, he exited the room and headed for the bar.  As he walked, he thought.

I wonder what I should expect.  I have orders to report to a MCPO Hunter-Morrell, and my flight leader is supposedly a Mon Cal.  If he flies anything remotely like that Quarren, I’m in for worse than I thought.  I just hope my commander isn’t one of those uptight, older guys who enjoys being in a bad mood.

As he walked, Arturo began to hear some unusual noises coming from up ahead.  His thoughts were interrupted rudely as a couple of what looked like pilots who had just been through a scuffle with a Wampa bumped into him as they staggered past.  Whether they staggered from injury or inebriation, Arturo didn’t know.

What in blazes is going on in this bar?
 
The sounds of the brawl, which had been steadily growing in volume as Arturo approached the bar, suddenly quieted to nothing.  Arturo picked up his pace a little bit, both curious as to what had just transpired, and worried about those involved in what sounded like a rather large bar fight.  He rounded the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks.
 
He spied a few dozen bodies, apparently sorted into two piles, on the floor of the bar.  A very frightened and angry bartender stood behind his counter, staring at the only other one awake in the bar, a man with longer, blonde hair.  The man sat coolly at the counter, nursing a drink, and gazed out at all of those who lay sprawled on the floor.

Arturo walked over to the bartender, and ordered a glass of his favorite Commenorian brandy.  The bartender complied, filling his tumbler with shaking hands.

The poor man looks nervous as hell, and he keeps looking at Blondie over there.  What did he do?

Arturo took a sip, savoring the rich, bitter flavor of the brandy on his tongue.  He then leaned over and spoke to the other man.
 
“What happened here?”

The man replied, “Crowd got a little unruly, so I put ‘em down.”

Arturo let that sink in for a moment, then screwed up the courage to ask the man how he had done so, seeing as there were many more people than even the best fighter could dispatch.

The man, with some sort of menacing glint in his eyes, smiled and simply said, “I have my methods.”

Arturo nodded, slightly more worried than ‘slightly worried’ now.

He once again asked a question, “Do you know who MCPO Hunter-Morrell is, and where I can find him?  I have orders to report to him, as a new member of Nazgul Squadron.”

The man’s smile only grew exponentially as Arturo spoke these two sentences, and when he finally answered, he was laughing quite hard.

“Son, I AM Hunter-Morrell, and welcome to Nazgul Squadron.”  He gestured with an open hand towards a cluster of pilots, who were slumped against a wall in the far corner.

Arturo took on an expression of surprise, and began to speak.

“You mean that that’s Nazgul Squadron?”

Hunter only smiled more, and said, “Yep.  That’s Nazgul Squadron.  Drink a few more of those and you’ll fit right in, rookie.”

Arturo merely buried his face in his hand and groaned.

OOC:
Word Count: 1008
This was meant to take place before Drac's post, but he beat me to it.
SCRW Arturo Lee
Nazgul Squadron Flight 3 Member

FM/SCRW Arturo Lee/Nazgul 11/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)
[This message has been edited by Arturo (edited October 29, 2009 1:33:25 PM)]
Arturo
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 30, 2009 12:06:17 AM    View the profile of Arturo 
Hunter spoke for maybe a minute, filling Arturo in on the details of the bar brawl, and how he resorted to employing a stun-gas grenade to finally bring the pitched battle to a halt.  Arturo quietly nursed his brandy for the next ten minutes, glancing at Hunter, who was now making rounds among the stunned Navy personnel, checking for major injuries, as well as signs of consciousness.  He was also contemplating why in the world a man would carry around stun grenades on a ship that was supposedly crewed by nobody but friendlies.  Neither of them spoke another word, until a rather large group of military police troopers, led by what appeared to be a rather irritated officer, began to file into the now very-destroyed bar.
 
Arturo, after looking back in Hunter’s direction, noticed a Mon Calimari was somewhat awake, and quietly conversing with Hunter.  He slowly stood, and hoisted himself into a chair.  Arturo noticed that the Mon Cal’s face was bleeding, and that his lower lip was split rather nicely down the middle.

Could…he be my Flight Leader?  My orders said something about my Lead being a Mon Cal, but seriously?  I don’t know if I want to be flying under a guy who hops right into any sort of fight without thinking it through first.  Actions have consequences; I hope the whole of Nazgul Squadron doesn’t wind up in the brig for this stunt.

Just then, Arturo noticed the Mon Cal had begun to drink once again, this time some sort of green liquor that he had never seen before.  As the MP Officer strode over to him, he deliberately knocked his drink over, spilling its contents onto the floor.  The Officer did not look pleased, and this move by the amphibian did not seem to help his attitude.  They exchanged words for a few moments.

Probably rehashing the details of the incident…

So far, Nazgul Squadron has a guy who smiles creepily at me and is armed to the teeth, a Mon Calimari who seems to like the bottle an awful lot and has no qualms about going headlong into a fight, and the rest here appear to be of the same mold as he.  Why did they even all start drinking right before a mission?  I would think that they had just gotten back from one, if I didn’t know any better.  What exactly did I get myself into here, anyhow?


As other pilots and crew members began to come around, the MPs hauled them to their feet and escorted them out of the room, presumably to either the brig, or at least to holding cells.  Arturo was surprised, then when two troopers advanced towards him, and ordered him to get up and follow them.
“Please come with us, and do not resist.”
Arturo stared for a moment, in disbelief.  That was apparently too long for the MPs, who promptly hauled him to his feet.  He protested, “I got here after everything was over.  I had no part in any of this.”

The troopers simply shook their heads and simply dragged a now very-unhappy Arturo out of the bar, and towards wherever their destination was.

--------------------
Arturo was bored.  He was stuck in a stupid detention room with the rest of Nazgul Squadron, most of whom appeared to be very social, when not drunk or unconscious.  He really didn’t know anyone, so he sat quietly in the back corner of the room, in front of two MPs who barred exit through the nearby door.

At least they could have let me have my brandy.  Bored isn’t nearly as bad when you’ve got alcohol to focus on.

He watched as a group of security personnel, a Sergeant and two guards, stepped out of an adjoining room and motioned for everyone to quiet down.  The noise level dropped, and the Sergeant spoke.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell and Chief Petty Officer Dracule Mihawk, please step forward.”

So, Fishman there is my Flight Leader.  How exciting.  And now, he might not be.  Isn’t this just great.  Why am I even in here, again?

The Mon Cal got to the doorway, when he protested something or other to the Sergeant.  The MP replied with a shake of his head, and both Nazgul officers stepped through the door to await them.

The door closed, and the Sergeant addressed the remaining pilots.

“You all are to be questioned by security officers about your participation in today’s… incident.  After this session is concluded, you will be released back to your quarters, where you are to remain until you receive further orders.  And, please, don’t cause any more trouble than you already have.  We’ve got three pilots from other squadrons in Medical because of you lot.”

At this, a few grins were exchanged among those sitting up front.  Arturo merely rolled his eyes, impatient to get his interrogation over with so that he could go back to his quarters and actually accomplish something.

The Sergeant began issuing assignments to each squadron member.  Naturally, Arturo was the first one called.

“Senior Crewman Arturo, you will be with Warrant Officer Flagg in Holding Room 23C.  These men will escort you there."  With that, two MPs stepped forward, motioning with their stun batons for him to follow.  As Arturo walked to the front of the room and out the door, he could feel the eyes of his squadronmates on him.

They don’t even know I’m in Nazgul yet.  They’re probably just as confused over this whole affair as I am.  I hope this Flagg guy isn’t Mr. Good Cop, Bad Cop…

He exited the room, and followed the MPs to Holding Room 23C.

--------------------
Flagg was seated at a desk when Arturo and his less-than-enthusiastic entourage arrived in his room.  He looked up at Arturo over his spectacles and spoke, in a very cool-yet-annoyed tone.

“You don’t look like you fared too poorly in that fight, Crewman.  Please, have a seat.”

Arturo did so.  Flagg simply uttered the word, “Explain.”

Arturo did so.  “I had no part in the aforementioned incident.  I just arrived onboard the Atrus after a second-rate shuttle trip from Abrae, and wanted a drink to settle my very unsettled stomach and nerves.  I went to the bar after depositing my belongings in my quarters, and discovered MCPO Hunter-Morrell sitting at the bar, while everyone else appeared to be unconscious.  I ordered a brandy and sat around until you guys grabbed me and threw me in the detention room with the rest of Nazgul Squadron, who doesn’t even know I exist, let alone know me as a member of their squadron, Sir.”

Flagg merely nodded, and typed something into his datapad.  He didn’t look convinced.

“Sir, you can study the security holo-recordings of the bar if you wish; you’ll see I had no part in anything, as did Hunter.  He stopped the ruckus, in fact.”

Why am I backing up that crazy guy, anyway?  Am I really such a sucker for innocents that I’ll stick my neck out for them ten minutes after meeting them?

Flagg nodded again, his gaze narrowing.  He spoke.  “Well, we will have to take a look at those recordings to corroborate your story, but if all is as you claim it is, you can go back to your quarters.  We’ll come and get you again if we need you.  Dismissed.”

Arturo stood, saluted and turned around.  Damn my conscience.

He stopped, turned around, and spoke to Warrant Officer Flagg one more time.  “Sir, what about MCPO Hunter?  He isinnocent.  The recordings will tell you that, as well.”

Flagg looked like he had a very foul taste in his mouth he couldn’t get rid of.  “MCPO Hunter is not your concern, Crewman.  Dismissed.”  He placed a heavy emphasis on the last word.

Arturo strode out of Holding Room 23C, and went back to his quarters, pondering what had just happened to him within the past hour or so.  He wasn’t quite sure.



     

OOC:
Word Count: 1335
This technically isn't double-posting, as my previous post happened chronologically before Drac's last one?
SCRW Arturo Lee
Nazgul Squadron Flight 3 Member

FM/SCRW Arturo Lee/Nazgul 11/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1FLT/VEN/VE/(=*A*=)
[This message has been edited by Arturo (edited October 30, 2009 12:07:47 AM)]
DarianRogue
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DarianRogue
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
October 30, 2009 10:18:15 PM    View the profile of DarianRogue 
OOC:
Knockout so I don’t have to read all the posts I only skimmed through   Plus Hunter made it so.


    Darian was getting bored “playing” on the simulator some more.  He decided to get out, and saw Drac and a new recruit.

~“Broken” Memory Strand~

    He called out to them.  Well, he called out to Drac.  “Drac!”  Drac heard him and led the recruit over to him.  “Haven’t seen you in a while, DR.”
    “Yeah, it’s good to be back in Nazgul.  Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new recruit whom I assume is one of your flight members?”
    “Darian, this is Van.  Van, this is Darian–”
    “But you can call me DR (Dee-Ar),” interjected Darian.
    “Yes, you can call him that.  He was previously Nazgul 2-4, but he had some problems with another member of Nazgul, Skrat–”
    “–Also known as Catachan,” said DR.  “Annoying little one.  He caused me to be taken off of active duty into the reserves until I got out of that mental institution.  I seriously hope we don’t have another one of those in Nazgul, or the whole navy for that matter, or the whole Vast Empire for that matter.”
    “Speaking of annoying,” muttered Drac loud enough for Darian to hear it.
    The trio walked along to the crew room.

~“Unbroken” Memory Strand~

    What the hell?  How did Darian get to the crew room?  Could the Green Stuff really be affecting him this much?  No, he didn’t have that much!  He had walked in with Drac and a new recruit.  Darian assumed he had already said hi to Drac, even if he couldn’t remember it, but he approached the new recruit and asked him for clarification on his name, finding out his name was Van.  Let’s remember that this time, he thought.
    Drac went to talk to Hunter.  After their short chat, Hunter raised his voice.
    “Okay, Nazzies. We’ve got a bit of a wait, so follow me and we’ll show you all how Nazgul says hello!”
    DR, not usually one to drink, went over and said hello to Hunter and walked over with him.  “Been a while, eh?  I’m not even in your flight anymore.”
    “Oh,” said Hunter.  “I guess I’m going to have to get used to your annoying style again, just not as much.”
    “Hey, I’m not that annoying.”
    “I beg to differ.”
    “Oh, pff, great welcome back Hunter.  Well, see you in a bit.  Don’t get lost, okay?”  Darian ran off ahead of him to the bar, although he wasn’t in too much of a hurry.  He actually got lost on purpose just so he would be fashionably late.
    He strolled in just in time to hear, “Nazgul! Take ‘em!” from Drac.
    Darian sighed.  My first day back and I have lost memories and a bar fight.  Will my life ever be normal?  He broke two legs off of a stool at the bar to use as weapons.  When he did so, the spring from the legs flew out into one of the drunken men’s open mouths.  He sort of choked on them and seemingly died.  (A bit late with that kill, but oh well.)  On closer inspection, however, DR saw that he wasn't.  DR ran forward and started to hurt the pilots with the chair legs.  He knocked a few unconscious.

~“Broken” Memory Strand~

    Someone hit Darian with a chair on the head and he fell unconscious.

~“Unbroken” Memory Strand~

    He woke up and honestly didn’t remember falling unconscious.  While that was common to not remember that, he was getting worried about recent events.
    The bar was in shambles.  “Would someone help me up?” he asked.
    A newer pilot came over to him and helped him.  “Are you Senior Crewman DarianRogue?”
    “That’s me, but you can call me Darian, or DR.”
    “I’m Senior Crewman Carpet, also known as Adaha Tatham.  I’m your new wingman.”
    Darian shook his hand.  “Nice to meet you.”  Then they were hauled away with the rest of Nazgul.

OOC:
638 WC
Nazgul 1-4.
FM/SCRW Darian Rogue/Nazgul 1-4/Phoenix Wing/Executor Class SSD Atrus : SCAP/1Flt/VEN/VE (=A=)

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[This message has been edited by DarianRogue (edited October 31, 2009 12:50:05 AM)]
Willtconq
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
November 3, 2009 3:36:20 AM    View the profile of Willtconq 
In one corner of the dark room, the band played away at the ever repeating tunes. A few yards in front of them, toward the center of the room, two twi’lek females waved their arms in constant motion as they danced to the tunes. In the very last booth in the corner, two trandoshans were almost screaming at each other, swinging their fists in the air over a table of cards. Two booths down, a drinking contest was going on between a human and a rodian. A good number of bottles and glasses littered the tables and the vicinities around them.

The cantina was quite crowded, but nothing unusual. It was not long after sundown, Will guessed. Night time is coming, and as usual, various citizens were coming into the darken place from after a days work, or were on their way home, and figured they would stop at the bar for a few hours, and maybe their wives wouldn’t miss them yet. But the majority of the people there were just like any other shady dealers of one contraband or another. Lowlifes, Will thought as he took one last gulp from his glass of Corellian Ale, and stepped out from his solitary booth in the opposite corner of the bar from the trandoshans. Just another day.

Most of the patrons in the cantina had already come to know him as the one person they don’t want to mess with. When Will first got there, almost every other day, someone would pick a fight with him, then end up either dead or screaming for a medic. After the first week, the chance to swing his arms gradually became once a week, then once a month or so. Every time someone walked up to the booth that now practically has his name written all over, Will would look up at them with a blank face, regardless if they were there for him or not. He found that the ones that were biggest in size were usually the most interesting, before and after. And they were usually too stupid to heed the warnings for their fellow patrons, or thought they were too good, in ways unknown to Will, to listen to lesser beings. Occasionally, there would be one that would flat back away from him after seeing the face and eyes that reflected nothingness without making a single sound, in fear of being instantly frozen into carbon.

After some months, whoever occupied the booth would vacate as soon as Will stepped into the cantina. Will wouldn’t have minded if he had to find another booth to sit in, as long as there was one to sit in, and as long as no one bothered him while he listened in on the hundreds of conversations going on. But he never said a word. As a result, no one knew anything about this human person who sat in the same booth every time. Or, as Will was concerned, two things, one, he is there; two, don’t mess with him if you know what’s good for yourself. Pretending to be an authoritative figure had always been a strong trait for Will. It’s much easier to deal with people when they either fear or greatly respects you. In this case, being treated like the boss out of fear suited him just fine, especially since he didn’t have to do much to get it either.

As he stepped out from the doorway, and just stood there, he welcomed the mixture of cool air descending and the warm air rising from within the ground after another day under the scorching suns for just a few moments. Will smelled the air, bantha droppings in the middle of the street not far from the entrance of the cantina found their way to his nostrils. Not a good sign. Will thought as his mood became slightly darkened by the great smell that intruded his mind as the first thing he had to notice after leaving the cantina. The sky was quickly darkening. Time to go home.

Going down a side alley, Will uncovered his swoop. Who knows when the citizens in these kinds of large smuggler-central cities would do if one just left a perfectly shiny piece of equipment sitting in broad daylight for long periods of time. Although his swoop is no longer bright and shiny as it had once been. Going around the sand dunes has taken its toll. In one smooth motion as if it was as simple as walking, Will swung his left leg over as he jumped up, and landed lightly in the seat of the swoop, started the engine, and zoomed out of the dark alley, down the wide streets, then finally out of the city toward the outskirts. Well, he has been doing it almost everyday for over a year now.

In the bleak horizon directly in front of Will, the sky was continuing to darken. But it no longer troubled Will. It has long since he had gotten used to riding in the never ending darkness of the night. But tonight was different. Will turned off in a slight detour, going in a horizontal direction from his home, and then corrected his course so that he approached the building with the brightest part of the sky directly in front of him, behind the building, throwing a shadow on everything above the horizon. In the other direction, the sky was already pitch black in the direction Will was approaching from, covering his tracks completely as everything was engulfed in the darkness.

As Will got close enough, he noticed a pair of swoops a little of distance from his house. Will immediately killed the engine, but continued to let the swoop glide forward. The silence would cover his approach and avoid alerting the visitors of his arrival. Whoever his visitors were, he didn’t like them already. First, they didn’t contact him in advance, not that he likes being contacted while in his retirement. Second, he just plain didn’t like visitors while in retirement. Whoever was there better have a good reason, or the next place they wish to visit would either be a medical station or the morgue.

Two swoops, meaning there’s most likely just two people. Will ducked behind the pair of swoops and peered through toward his house. One of them stood outside the entrance, but without daylight, there was no telling who or what it was, or any indication to where he or she had come from. Still crouching behind the swoops, Will held one hand close to where he thought the engine should be, no heat radiating from the area. These guys have been there for some time now. They are obviously not there to rob him, not that they could, or would get away with it. Thus the only other explanation would be that they are there for him. As soon as that thought entered his mind, Will ran down a list of people who might be after him. The New Republic, obviously, this was a NR controlled system after all. They are the most likely. But if they knew I was here, they wouldn’t just send two people. Unless they got so stupid that they would send only two people to take down an Imperial officer who had cost the NR more than they would ever like to think about, in equipment, structure, as well as lives of bodies that could still be floating in space somewhere. They can’t be Special Forces or bounty hunters either, those guys wouldn’t be standing wide open right in front of my house, more like an ambush somewhere in the vicinity. They wouldn’t leave their swoops out like an obvious road sign either.

If they are not New Republic, well, smugglers that I might have beaten to a pulp sometime in the past could come back to take revenge. But you would think those guys had learned their lesson the first time around. The chances of living through a fight with me are already quite slim, not to mention toying with a second time around. No one in their right mind would go around playing with bombs after getting an arm and a leg burned from playing with fire. Right? In that case, I suppose they could be some pirate I messed with back in active duty, they might have their ways of tracking down people.


Will studied the swoops, two identical Zephyr-G swoops, typical civilian swoop with no weaponry. That rules out pirates. Those guys like to operate things that have been patched up here and there, and they hardly ever goes around without weaponry on their rides. Even their fighters back then were mostly combinations of parts and pieces from Z-95s and X-Wings and Ties, etc. never a fully original piece of equipment. Will reached up and took a quick swipe over the covering piece with a forefinger, and stuck it in his mouth, then just as quickly spat the substances out. Whatever was on the bike tasted like iron and dust, but no sand or mud. At least one of them had been in storage for some time, probably indoors, where there had been some slight moisture in the air, which would cause some slight rusting on the surface. Along with the absence of sandy dust says these swoops haven’t been used in a long time. That means they were either rentals, or owned by someone with a good amount of money to just keep at least a pair of swoops around yet never rides them. As far as Will knew, there was no one person on that planet who would own a pair of swoops and not ride them. Certainly not the Hutts, or anyone with some slight degree of fortune. Those fat worms would crush a poor swoop like these, they have no use for these kinds of equipment. So these are probably owned by an organization of some sort. NR has already been ruled out.

Then Imperials? Yeah wishful thinking. Only a handful of the people in the Empire know I’m here. And of those people, most have already retired as well. Well, as long as they don’t plan to be enemies. And that guys standing outside does seem pretty lax, looking here and there, Arms loosely hanging by the sides. Too bad I can’t see if there’s any side arm.
At the thought, Will unholstered his pistol, switched it to stun and proceeded to circle around to the back of the building, approaching the man from behind. It’s not that he didn’t want to kill them, but in case they prove to be resourceful, it’s better if they are able to provide information when they are alive than dead.

“Hello there.” Will said quietly, holding the pistol at waist high, but pointed directly at the person.

Caught off guard, the person quickly spun around and reached toward his belt, but stopped half way with his hand still on the cover when he realized the person standing before him already has his weapon out, and it is pointed at his chest. “Don’t shoot.” The person said quickly.

Will looked at the person before him with a blank face, but didn’t say anything, waiting for the man to continue, at the same time listening for any movement in the surroundings. The other person was still nowhere to be seen.

“Are you Second Lieutenant Willtconq?” The man asked.

“No.” Will answered flatly.

“Do you think you could directly us in the direction where we might find him?” Taking a step forward as he talked, glancing at the blaster pointed at him a couple times in the process.

“I’m not sure, never heard of him.” Will answered by-the-book.

“Look, Sir, we know who you are. You can stop with the pretenses. I understand this is basic procedure from retired military personnel.”

“We?” Will asked, not denying the statement, nor lowering his weapon.

“Yes, my partner and I.”

“And he is… where?”

“Inside the -” Before the man could finish his sentence Will already knew the rest of it, and pulled the trigger once, stunning the man in front of him. It’s one thing if they were there to talk to him, or to ask him to go somewhere. It’s something else if they broke into his home without his personal consent. Doesn’t matter where they came from, entering his house without his consent was already a hostile act, and he will treat them as thus. The man fell into the dusty ground with a slight thud. Will listened again as silence fell once more, the partner had not yet realized his friend had been neutralized, but he will soon. Will reached over and unarmed the man on the ground, removed his pistol, then proceeded to his front door as quietly as a ghost in the night.

Will moved along the side of the building, so as not to be seen immediately as the person exited. But to his surprise, a voice behind him suddenly said “Stop.” And Will froze, turned around slowly, and saw that he was in the same position as the man before was, a blaster already pointed at him. “Drop your weapons.” The person said. Will complied, but not out of fear or helplessness. He was hoping this one was as untrained in close combat at the other. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he wasn’t stupid enough to go down and pick them up, rather he simply glanced down to make sure both weapons were on the ground, and then kicked them out of reach, at the same time lowering his own weapon.

He obviously doesn’t want to kill me. Or wish to use any force to subdue me whatsoever. Could mean they are friendlies, could also mean it’s a trick to get me off guard. Better safe than sorry. In one swift movement, Will caught the wrist holding the blaster, twisted it, forcing the person to drop it, at the same time twisting the arm, making the person twist sideways to adjust for the new forced position of his arm, and allowing Will to duct sideways, and stand fully behind the man while still holding the arm in a twist. While Will was in the process of moving to the back side of the opponent, he took a step between the other’s legs, and as Will took his position fully behind the person, he forced his legs to bend, then cross, then fall to the ground on his knees. As the man fell, Will caught him in the throat with his left forearm, and dropped into a half kneel, kicking his left knee under the other man’s arms, locking it between his elbow and the knee.

“We are not your enemy.” The man choked out. While kneeling, and with both armed locked in backward positions, Will had effectively eliminated the use of all four limbs.

“You sure you know who I am?”


“Yes, Captain Denethor sent us to find you here.”

“Why should I trust you? Was breaking and entering part of your orders too?”

“Yes, I mean, no! Our orders were to find you and escort you back to Abrae. Sir.”

“Do you always go around telling people what your missions are? Not too bright after all.” Will scolded, then released his hold on the man and let him freely drop face first into the ground. He walked around, retrieved all three blasters, waiting for the man to recover from a mouthful of sand, then asked, “What else did the Captain say?”

“None. Except that he wants you to return to active duty. And we only have eighteen more hours until we are due back with you on Atrus. The shuttle is ready for takeoff as soon as you are ready to depart. Sir.”

“Take your buddy there and get out of here. Take the shuttle and head back. I have my own means of transportation.”

The man sat there not sure what to do.

“Now.” Will said as he walked by toward his house. The man hurried up as if given a sudden jolt by the sound of the word, and went to help his friend, who was still unconscious, onto one of the swoops. Will didn’t bother to see if they had gone or needed any help. He was already thinking ahead, of the things he needed to take with him, and what might possiblly prompt Denethor to send for him after a year and half in retirement. Active duty, no less. That can’t be a good sign. In fact, Will didn’t even know Denethor had returned to active duty himself. And Captain now, eh. Must’ve been busy while I was enjoying my early retirement. But to take me out of retirement, the Navy must really need people right now, or just me. It wouldn’t be just a ceremony of some sort since that wouldn’t require active duty. Must be serious.

Guess no sleep tonight, well plenty of time to sleep while in hyperspace I suppose. Will grabbed some essentials, his old uniforms, and left the flight suit on the bed. Putting it on after he had put everything else into a duffle bag. Looked around the room, making sure he had everything he needed from there, then open a small hatch and stepped through. A brief flight of stairs took him further underground from the already half buried house, into his personal hanger. In his year and half there, he had bought a good piece of land just outside of the city, and had built himself almost a small base. The structure was mostly built by the droids Will had owned since before retirement, and was powered by a small generator Will had acquired through the black market. The top of the building was slightly underground, with a good layer of fake sand on top to avoid any visual detection. From a distance, there’s nothing except sandy plains and what appears to be several moisture farm spokes. The droids also maintained the entire structure as well as all of the crafts there. Except one. That one was special. Will’s baby, so to speak. A one-of-a-kind. Will spent a good amount of time maintaining it every week himself. The infamous Hawkbat, Special Edition.

Will went to the wall of cabinets and picked out a few personal weapons, and stored them in the storage compartments of the fighter along with his bag. One of the R5 units rolled up and beeped at him. He turned around told it that he will be gone for an extended period of time. Then ordered his MG-1 to maintain the facility in the time being as usual, before climbing up onto the gang plank from which all of his Tie fighters hung, and finally into the cockpit of the Hawkbat.

It had been a long time since he last flew it, yet he loved it no less than the first time he had climbed into that cockpit three years ago. Will flipped on the engines and left out a sigh as it roared to life, the sound multiplied within the enclosed structure. It was a beautiful sound. With a quick command to the droids, the hanger doors lowered a few feet into the room then moved aside to reveal the black sky of the outside world.

Will ran through the pre-flight checks. His heart began to beat faster as the anticipation for finally getting a chance to soar in the skies once again in his Hawkbat pumped adrenaline into him. Everything ran green, as expected. He donned his helmet, locked it in place, then with another flip of switch, the repulsors kicked in, and a second later, the clamps that held the ship in place released, and Will felt the slight drop, and the sudden ease as he is now able to move the fighter freely. The droid acting as the flight operator said through the comm in a monotone voice, “Have a nice flight, master.”

You bet. Will thought as he eased the stick slightly forward and brought the fighter into the open space in the center of the room. Increasing the repulsor powers slightly, the fighter drifted upward until Will cleared the opening, and then gave the order to close the hatches. He could have just tilted the fighter upward then increased the thrust, but the after burn might’ve left a mark on the hanger floor and burn a few droids that happened to be in its way, he didn’t want that, besides, what’s the hurry.

Will hovered in place above the hanger. Looking downward through the window slits, he watched as the doors finally came together, and then rose into place, blending perfectly into the surrounding sand terrain as sand was allowed to fill in the small cracks. It will be a long time before he came back here. It had better be the same after he comes back or there will be hell to pay. Will thought as he finally pushed the throttle to full, shooting the fighter forward, then pulled back on the sticks and the ship soon left the atmosphere behind, and the cold space surrounded the ship.

Will engaged the autopilot, and inputted the coordinates of Abrae into the hyperdrive system before turning on the heater and finally lying back against the seat, relaxing, falling asleep just as the fighter made the jump to hyperspace, entering into a waking sleep. Will had already entered the mindset of active duty. While he’s there, he knows very well that to expect a full night of complete sleep was hardly possible. At any given moment, one could come under attack, and to come out of a full sleep and be combat ready before getting killed was just plain impossible. Outside the safety of his own domain, Will found it easier to just be in a waking sleep rather than spend more effort trying to futilely to enter a full sleep.
___________________________________________________________

Will abruptly opened his eyes. Less than one second later, a continuous beep rang out in the cockpit. The sudden change in speed and the reversion from hyperspace into sublight had given Will enough of a “shock” to spring him from his waking sleep. He had arrived. Before him, the gigantic mSSD Atrus hovered in orbit above the planet Abrae, filling the majority of the viewport. Will flipped on the comm system as a flood of chatter fill the speakers. After a quick adjustment to the signal ranges, Will singled out the channels for flight control, and opened a secure channel.

“Second Lieutenant Willtconq requesting permission to dock. Over.”

“This is Atrus Flight Control, we have you on scanners. Please stand by, verifying security authenticity of unknown fighter on approach. Maintain current course, drop speed to 60MGLT. Over.”

“Copy that.” Will responded out of boredom, and pulling back on throttle as well as applying some slight breaks in order to reduce the speed by almost 100MGLT.

“Lieutenant Willtconq, Atrus Flight Control, authenticity verified. You are cleared to hanger bay 17C. Welcome to Atrus.”

“Thank you.” Will replied as he eased the stick forward slightly, then pulling back on the throttle as he approached the magnetic shield, activating the repulsors as the ship glided through, into the hanger. Will watched as the men milling around the deck all turned their heads to watch the new yet odd Tie design, then headed for the sides in order to clear a large enough space for it to set down.

Once out of the cockpit, Will took hold of a handle on the outside of the ship and lightly hopped to the ground before the ladder was even pulled up in front of the cockpit ball. A good number of people were still eyeing the ship while pretending to return to their respective duties.

“Sir.” A deck hand that was pulling up the ladder for Will stopped as Will strode past him and his awestruck face.

“What? Never seen a Tie before?” Will asked jokingly out of amusement. Of course they haven’t. Will himself had only flown that ship no more than three times in past missions since he acquired it. “Take good care of it Chief.” Will yelled out, walking on without waiting for the Petty Officer to answer his previous question, and not even turning to look back at him.
First stop, quarters. Stopping at the first terminal he saw, Will downloaded the general schematics of the ship for easier navigation to his datapad. It has been a long time since Will had walked the halls of Atrus, a little memory refresher wouldn’t hurt. Along with the information was his new order, which was report to Captain Denethor ASAP. But first he needed to change out of his flight suit, and into a more presentable outfit. The new quarters assigned to him were pretty much the same as the one that was assigned to him last time he was aboard the Atrus, some years ago.

With a fresh laundered uniform on, Will checked his data pad, he was supposed to be due back on Atrus and reported to Denethor ten minutes ago. Tucking the pad into a side pocket, Will rushed out the door in the direction Captain Denethor’s office was located.

Once outside the door to the office, Will checked his data pad again, he was now twenty minutes late. He rang the bell to the side of the door and heard Denethor say “Enter.” The door slid close behind Will again as soon as he stepped into the room. Denethor was writing behind his desk, and did not look up from his task as Will saluted sharply and reported in for duty, continuing to stand at attention. After a while, Denethor said, “Lieutenant, you are late.”

Will wasn’t sure how he was supposed to reply, and considering it was more of a statement than question, he remained silent.

“You were ordered to return with the men I sent to escort you.” Finally looking up from the desk.

“I had some personal business to take care of before I was able to depart. Sir. I sent them ahead so that they would not be late to reporting back as well.” Finding a plausible excuse for not riding with the two men and flying his own ship instead.

“So am I supposed to thank you?”

“No, Sir.”

“The two of them looked worse than someone who had just returned after being chased by a Krayt Dragon across a desert. How do you suppose that be?”

Will decided this wasn’t the best time to play coy, so he answered, “That would be because of me Sir.”

“And yet, you don’t sound one bit sorry.”

“No, Sir.”

“Care to explain what happened?”

“It was dark. As I was returning to my residence, I noticed a pair of speeder bikes, but could not make out the outfits of the strangers. Thus I was unable to be sure who they were or where they came from. In the darkness, they could very well have been New Republic agents, or simply thugs. So I took every precaution as if treating enemy forces. Sir.”

“Is that all?”

“No Sir. One of them might have attempted to forcibly enter my residence. In which case he would have been met with deadly force from my automated droid defenses.”

“Once again, am I supposed to thank you for sparing the life of these two men? Because it seems to me, the damage they suffered were not done by your security system, but rather, as they tell me, by you.”

“No Sir. It was merely self defense.”

“Self defense.” Denethor repeated. “And I suppose that guy that you shot with a stun bolt was… threatening? He didn’t even have his blaster out! And the other guy, he raised his blaster to you out of precaution, and what about you? Attack him as soon as he lowers it after seeing that you have become unarmed? You are supposed to use your years of training on the enemy, not friendlies! Has a year and half in retirement made you paranoid?”

“Perhaps. Sir. It has indeed kept me alive through all this time. For all I knew, Sir, they could have been the enemy. In fact, they never did offer to tell me who they were or where they came from, except to say that you, Sir, had sent them. Which in any case, could have been taken, as I did, as a trick to get the subject to let his guard down.”

“Good then. There doesn’t seem to be enough paranoid men around this place. Next thing you know there’s five accounts of dead pilots because of ignorance and arrogance. Now, Lieutenant, I assume your arrogance will not be a problem? Especially that fighter of yours. Drawing a bit much of attention for someone like you who wallows in a little corner in the darkness of a cantina in the middle of nowhere, don’t you think?”

“Of course. Sir.”

“You are being assigned to Nazgul squadron. You will find, I think, a very good friend. You are to report to Ensign Atrasin in his office at 0600. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir.” Will saluted once again, and exited the room. Denethor sure knows how to make a person suffer. Standing that long at attention on the first day of returning to active duty, ow, my back. Now, what did he mean by good friend? The name Atrasin is already unfamiliar to me, which means even the CO of Nazgul is now a complete stranger. Well there were a number of pilots I was decent friends with, the few most significant pilots of my entire military career. My second and third in command of Kaph, Demonic and Than Sion. Jack Nebulax was practically my Academy Twin, but he left the service a long time ago, as well as the other two. Could they have returned? He couldn’t think many other persons who he would consider “good friends” most pilots came and went not long after, dead or alive. The Imperial Navy Pilot Corps wasn’t exactly the safest job around.

At 0555, Will waltzed into Atrasin’s officer, upon entering, he raised his hand to his brows, and said, “Lieutenant Willtconq reporting for duty, Sir!” Then realized that there were already two people in the room. One of them was standing to the side of the desk, slightly leaning on it, whom said “At ease”. He had the rank of “Ensign” on his left breast. Will assumed he was Ensign Atrasin, Nazgul’s current SC. The other was sitting in a chair against the wall. Numerous medals adorned his uniform, along with the rank plate of Commodore. Will couldn’t believe as his sudden realization that this man was the “good friend” Denethor had mentioned previously, and not just any friend, Shazam was a mentor, and to Will, a role model.

He was already asked to be at ease, so Will did the next best thing he could think of. Striding toward Shazam, who stood upon being approached and extended his right arm in a hand shake, Will grabbed the arm firmly and pulled Shazam into a hug. Can’t believe I didn’t think of him. “It’s good to see you again Sir!”

“Ah, Will, no need to be so formal. To be honest, I didn’t expect to see you here either. I was just speaking with Ensign Atrasin here…”


OOC:
WC: 5244. Enjoy
-(William the Conquerer)-
Ex Ship Captain of Tiamut
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"A dishonest man, you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're gonna do something incredibly stupid." - Captain Jack Sparrow
"Happy endings are just stories that haven't finished yet." - Jane Smith
FM/2LT Willtconq/Nazgul 2-4/Phoenix Wing/mSSD Atrus/1st Fleet/VEN/VE (=*A*=) (=*SA*=)(=^MA^=) [VC:S][SV][BWC][SWC][LSM][CBV]
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Atrasin
ComNet Marshal
 
Atrasin
 
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
 
Post Number:  644
Total Posts:  1957
Joined:  Jan 2008
Status:  Offline
  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
November 3, 2009 6:11:25 PM    View the profile of Atrasin 
It had been a rather busy 72 hrs. 

Den’s orders had no sooner hit Drivers’ pad than he launched himself into his usual flurry of pre-op preps.  Ships had to be checked and made war-ready, pilots had to be recalled and briefed, and he had to put on his war face.

He had sent DR on his way and proceeded to dive into his routine. Nazguls’ TIE Avengers were always at the ready, but he made sure they got the once over to be safe.  He also had the Deck Chief paint their Screaming Skull insignia on the outer sides of the panels.

  ’bout time we start looking as intimidating as our rep

Reports of returning Nazzies filtered into him piecemeal.

He didn’t bother to contact Hunter; he was a good XO and would figure out what to do with the kids until he was ready to brief them.  Besides, what kind of trouble could they get into on the Imperial flagship?  Driver paused for a moment, and then chuckled to himself knowing full well what they could, and probably would do.

  just hope they don’t hurt anyone too badly

Finally, he had to prepare himself.  It’d been a while since he’d been on a real mission.  It wasn’t the same as walking blindly into a fight like he had on Ator, or kind of knowing what to expect on Anoat.  This was a planned mission with tangible targets and expected outcomes, albeit one with some degree of flexibility.  The flexibility part was usually where things went bollocks up, so any extra prep he could do would put him one step closer to coming home in one piece.

He took himself down to the closest gym and got a really good massage. He’d had a few kinks pop up in the last few weeks of nothingness, and wanted them gone.  If you couldn’t rely on your own body to respond when you needed it, you had nothing.  Afterwards, he’d headed over to Sickbay to get a full check out and fix what could be fixed.  He’d had a slight dip in his visual scores, but a quick laze to the cornea and that was that.  The rest of this physical hit all the right numbers.  Which, given his advanced years for a pilot, were pretty spectacular.

let those kids try and keep up

As he was finishing up the latest status report from Bedav his comm chirped, “Ensign, please report to Captain Vox’s office immediately.”

  “Aye, aye…on my way”

  ’bout time Den got around to giving me the full briefing

Driver made his now familiar way to the NXO’s office in a matter of minutes.  He was promptly buzzed in as he arrived and drew to attention in front of the Captain’s desk.

  “Ensign Geordi Atrasin reporting as ordered sir.”

Captain Kam ‘Denethor’ Vox looked up from his pads and reports and cast a wary eye on Nazgul’s SC.  Driver knew he didn’t like him, and he was ok with that.  He didn’t care much for Den either, but he knew enough to not share that feeling.  He just hoped that Vox wasn’t an empath. 

  “Prompt as usual Mr. Atrasin.  I trust you and your people are up for this job?” he queried with a tinge of disdain in his voice.

Geordi stiffened a bit.  Den always knew how to get in a dig that would hit home.

  “Yes sir, Nazgul is always ready for a scrap.”

  “Yes, I can see that.  Care to explain why Nazgul is currently sitting in Brig #12.” He stated matter-of-factly while handing a pad to Driver.

  G snatched the pad from his commander’s hand and quickly thumbed through the report.  The story was classic Nazgul, but the embarrassment was new.  Most times Driver was next to them when things like this happened, and could make a good – if not reasonably plausible – story that would pass muster.  This time he could not.

  Squaring his shoulders he did what he always did, “It would appear as if they beat the living hells out of Sunfire, sir.”

  Denethor stood quickly and none too pleased, “I can see that Ensign.  Please tell me why, whenever something goes south on this ship, Nazgul is standing bloody and in the center of it.”

“Just lucky? Sir.”

“Don’t get flippant with me mister, I’ve been more than patient with you and your people because they get the job done, but I can’t have them busting up every other squadron and bar on the Atrus just because they’re bored.”

“With all due respect, sir, we do not arbitrarily bust up grog shops for shits and giggles.  9 times out of 10 we are the ones attacked.  Self defense is not a crime, and the fact that we wipe the floor with the others should cause you more worry for their lack of adequacy and not our lack of superiority.”

Den attempted to rebut G’s words, but stopped.  He had a point, and damn him for it.  The Wing Commander sighed, straightened his tunic and sat back down, motioning for Geordi to do the same.
He rubbed his eyes wearily, “I can’t keep covering for your team’s lack of discipline Atrasin.  Questions are being asked…from above.  I can’t sweep this one under the rug, the wrong people got hurt this time.”

  “Who?”

  “An Admiral’s son and a minor Baron from one of the newly assimilated worlds.  I need to make an example, and you need to take it.”

  Driver sighed himself.  He knew he would.  Nazgul had gotten away with a lot in the last few months, but politics is politics, and sometimes the Navy had to play the game to keep the peace.

“Alright sir, who and for how long?”

  “Well, it seems that SCPO Gorma was the one doing the most damage on the Admiral’s son.  I’ve managed to talk him out of shooting Slasher, but he wants some brig time.  The same goes for SCRW Crane, he seemed to take a special interest in the Baron’s skull and its relationship with a drink synthesizer.”

  Driver fought to stifle a laugh, and succeeded when shot a look of pure venom by Denethor.

  “Both for thirty days.  Gorma gets seven of those at labor and Crane gets three.  No reduction of rank, but they will be docked one month’s pay.”

Driver thought about the sentences.  Both would send a clear message, but not unduly affect the workings of Nazgul. 

  “Agreed. I would also ask that their careers not be blacklisted.  Slasher is a hothead and a bit of a basket case, but he’s also one hells of a warrior, and this Crane’s a kid.”

  Denethor paused and nodded, making small notations on the pad before sending the orders out to the SP in Brig #12.

  “Also, it seems that LCRW Shadowstalker has gotten his arm broken.  He’ll be out for a few weeks at worst.  This puts Nazgul down three pilots.  I had recently assigned a SCRW Arturo Lee to Nazgul to start filling up Flight Four, but now he can fill in for Shadowstalker.  As for Gorma and Crane’s spots, I’ve got others in mind for that.”

  “Like who?”

  “One is 2LT Willtconq; he’s being recalled to service to help with this mission due to his deep experience, and familiarity with the target.  The other is Commodore Shazam; his diplomacy is going to be critical to the success of this mission.”

  “So what exactly is our mission, that you think so lightly of me to bring in these retired ringers to babysit me.” The tone in Driver’s voice was unmistakable, his blood was up.

  Denethor gave G what could only be charitably described as the ‘Snake Eye’, “Your mission, ENSIGN, is to do what I fraking tell you to do.  These men have more experience in delicate situations than most of the NHC put together.  You have a bantha-load of experience in pulling victory out of your ass and being one of the luckiest SC’s to ever fly a TIE.  I don’t need Sarek blown from the sky; I need it kept from falling to the New Republic!  You would do well to sit down, shut up and learn a few things from these men.”

The entirely too pleasant thought of running the NXO through with his lightfoil flashed in G’s mind’s eye, followed closely by the vision of twelve Troopers leveling their E-11’s at his head and firing in unison.  The cold finality of one overrode the warm-fuzzies of the other and snapped him back to reality. A reality that told him that Denethor was right, he was lucky and he did prefer a scorched earth policy to diplomacy.  A softer touch was need on this one.

  “Yes sir, what is the objective, “he said with a tone of acquiescence.

  Denethor unclenched himself and sat down again, “Sarek is a key link in our front line offensives.  Supplies and manpower stage there before being shipped out to the various attacking units.  Lately, we’ve been getting rumblings that the locals are less than happy about being the VE’s new supply dump.  We’ve captured a few Bothans and know that the NR is actively courting them to defect.  We need to prevent this.  Commodore Shazam is charged with defusing the situation and keeping the Sarekians in the Imperial fold, while you and Nazgul are charged with making sure the Rebels don’t try and take the planet by force.”

  “Sounds fairly simple, why all the big guns?”

  “I think you, of all people, should know that nothing is that simple.  We’ve heard rumors of a plot to kill several of the key Sarekian elders and Shamen.  Were that to happen the Imperial position on Sarek would become untenable and we have neither the time nor the material to take and hold that planet by force.”

Denethor’s door slid open breaking the rather tense briefing.  In walked a man not to much younger than Driver, but with the wisdom of the ages behind his eyes.

“Ensign Geordi Atrasin I would like to introduce Commodore Shazam.”

“Good to meet you sir,” G smiled as he pumped the man’s hand.  The grip was firm, solid and unrelenting.  His eyes met Geordi’s and held the gaze.

“Good to meet you, sir.  Been a while since I’ve had to call someone that, but it’s your Squadron Ensign, and I’m just another pilot.” His easy-going demeanor put Driver’s paranoid conspiracy theories of Denethor replacing him to rest.  He had the feeling if you couldn’t trust this man, who could you trust?

“Commodore Shazam has been briefed and is aware of all current situations.  2LT Willtconq will report to you in your office as soon as he arrives,” Denethor checked the wall chrono, “Which should have been several hours ago.  If you two would repair to your office for further discussions of this mission I would appreciate it, I have other, pressing High Council issues to attend to.”

G and Shaz both saluted Denethor exited the office quickly.  The walk to the Nazgul CO’s office was pleasant and informative.  They joked about mutual acquaintances and lost comrades, Driver remarked that he was now second only to Shaz in terms of tenure at the head of Nazgul, and that he was still gunning for him.

  “Well, hopefully, you’ll not be here forever.  Remember, as lucky as we are to have worn the Nazgul Skull, we’ve all got a higher duty to the Empire.” Quipped Shaz.

  Driver nodded in agreement, he loved his men like his own brother, but he somehow felt that he could do more for them and for the Empire elsewhere.

Upon entering the SC’s office Shazam noted, “Has anyone bothered to paint this place since I left, it’s still that same hideous grey on grey that I left behind.”
  “I prefer to think of it as Imperial Slate,” joked Driver.

  Shaz grabbed a nearby chair and kicked back, “At least you’ve got more comfortable chairs than I had.”

  “Well, usually after I chew their asses they need the cushion.”

Driver’s door chirped and in stepped a man whose identity he already guessed.

“Lieutenant Willtconq reporting for duty, Sir!”

“At ease, “said Driver, not prepared for exactly how at ease Willtconq would become as he nearly bound across the room to a standing Shazam and embraced the man in a warm bear hug.

“It’s good to see you again Sir!” beamed Willt.

“Ah, Will, no need to be so formal. To be honest, I didn’t expect to see you here either. I was just speaking with Ensign Atrasin here…”

“Driver.” Interrupted Atrasin,” Call me Driver or G; just don’t call me late to dinner.”

Shaz winked and Willt chuckled at G’s attempt at humor, “I hope your flying is better than your humor.”

  “Gods so do I, if not I won’t make it off the Atrus.  Now gentlemen, I’d like to get down to brass tacks, but we are missing one vital element.”


“What’s that?” asked Willt.

“The squadron.  Who would like to join me in a bailing and chewing them out?”

Both officers raised their hands as they departed for the Brig.  Upon arrival, G fished them out of the holding tank and blistered their ears with a string of epithets that Shaz thought even Snipes hadn’t heard before.  The also witnessed the distress in his voice when he had to inform both Dairy and Slasher of their sentences.  To his credit Slasher took it well and even spun it into an opportunity to work on his upper body and get some reading done.

Driver then force marched the entirety of Nazgul into the briefing room and gave them the complete rundown.

  “We mount up and depart in two hours gentlemen, do not be late. Or else.  Dismissed.”




OOC:
2300 Words.  Ok kids, here’tis.  We hit the ground running.  Feel free to explore the events leading up to launch. I WILL post in 48 hours. Be ready.
SC|ESN Geordi "Driver" Atrasin/Nazgul 1-1/mSSD Atrus/1VENF/VEN/VE/[=A=][=^SA^=][=^ME^=][=*MA*=][=FOCE=][MC1]{BWC}[NSR:1]{SAS}{SWC}
Vacuus Ordo, Nex  -Without Order, Death
All a man can betray is his conscience. - Joseph Conrad
We few, we happy few. We band of brothers. - Henry V
May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't. - General George S. Patton Jr.
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Hunter-Morrell
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Hunter-Morrell
 
[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer
[VE-VEEC] Word Slinger
 
Post Number:  1182
Total Posts:  2071
Joined:  Jun 2008
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  RE: Nazgul: The Sarek Stratagem
November 3, 2009 8:03:01 PM    View the profile of Hunter-Morrell 
For some reason Hunter was in a good mood, despite the fact that his whole squadron was most likely about to be sent to the brig for a bar brawl. In fact, his happy go lucky attitude had drawn the ire of their interrogator, whom Hunter now referred to as Cap'n. They had stayed in the small room for about five minutes and endured a long stare by the Cap'n. Much to his chagrin, Hunter decided to stare back and grin as wide as he could. They kept at it for a few moments before the Cap'n broke eye contact. Sneering, the Cap'n sat back in his chair and looked down at the papers before him. Sneaking a quick glance at Drac, Hunter saw that his fellow Nazgul had affixed a solemn expression on his face and did not look at anyone, instead staring at a point on the wall half a meter to the right of the Cap'n's head.

“So tell me, what exactly happened in the bar?” the Cap'n said suddenly.

Looking back at the Cap'n, Hunter shrugged and nudged Drac. Scowling, Drac began to retell the recent events. When he had finished, the Cap'n sat back in his chair and sighed deeply.

“So you mean to tell me that this was purely self-defense?” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly and his eyes growing hard.

It was a subtle change, but Hunter caught it, even though Drac hadn't. The Mon Calamarian nodded  while Hunter frowned, thinking about what that facial expression meant. Every possibility that ran through his mind wouldn't turn out good for the two of them.

“Ok. So you say it was self-defense. Tell me then, why did you not stop fighting? If it was self defense, why did you not restrain the pilots? According to the tapes, you and the rest of Nazgul mercilessly beat them into unconsciousness. That does not sound like self-defense to me.”

At the mention of tapes, Hunter looked up from the floor where he had been staring since realizing just where this conversation was going.

“Sir, if you had reviewed the tapes, then you would of saw that the two pilots who started this whole debacle were so drunk that they could hardly walk and that from the moment they started harassing Drac that there was going to be fight of some kind. There was just no avoiding it.” Hunter said, keeping his head up and looking the Cap'n directly in his eyes.

“Sir, I claim all responsibility for my actions. Like he said, there was just no avoiding a fight. I didn't start the fight though. I kept my temper down and remained calm despite that pilot verbally assaulting me. It was all I could do sir.” Drac said quietly, surprising Hunter.

Sitting back in his chair, the Cap'n rubbed his forehead as he concentrated on something unseen.

“Ok. You two are free to go back to the holding chamber.” he said, waving them away.

Grinning, Hunter exchanged a quick fist bump with Drac as they left the chamber. With Drac in front, the pair made their way down the corridors and back towards the holding chamber where the rest of Nazgul was supposed to be.

“Is it just me or did we get off a little too easily?” Hunter said, not really aiming it at Drac, who answered anyway.

“Yes, I believe we did. But I'm not complaining.”

“Well, neither am I, but I'm just saying, I feel like he left us off too easily. Almost as if he was told to let us go so that we could suffer something else later on.” Hunter said, shrugging slightly as Drac turned his head slightly to look at Hunter.

As they drew nearer to the door, Hunter thought he heard faint yells.

“I don't know what I'm saying. I just have a bad feeling about this.” Hunter said finally, after a moment's pause of listening to the distant voice or voices.

Walking up to the last door that led into the holding chambers, Hunter frowned slightly as the now familiar voice grew silent. As Drac reached out and opened the door, Hunter caught a glimpse of the rest of Nazgul. Their faces were downcast, turned towards the ground in shame.

That can mean only one thing. Driver is here and he isn't happy.

Hunter walked fully into the chambers and saw that his guess was correct. Driver had arrived and was indeed not happy at all. He was standing near the door through which they all had entered and was flanked by two men who Hunter didn't recognize.

They aren't important right now.

With great reluctance, Hunter stepped up to Driver and looked him in the eyes. Driver stood stock still for a moment, staring at Hunter with a mean look in his eyes. Hunter kept his gaze steady for a few seconds and then lowered his head.

“You mind telling me just what happened? I've already . . . talked to the rest of them, but I want to hear from you two.” Driver said, after a a moments pause.

“I-” Hunter began, interrupted by Drac.

“Hunter wasn't involved in the fight sir. All he did was end it, without using more force than he needed to I might add. If you want to blame somebody, look no further.”

Driver stood silently for a moment and then nodded slowly. With a gesture towards the door, he turned and walked out. Exchanging glances with Drac, Hunter followed, moving in behind the two strangers as they, too, followed Driver out.

OOC:
WC: 948
Master Chief Petty Officer Hunter Morrell
XO/MCPO Hunter-Morrell/Nazgul 5/Wing 1/mSSD Atrus/1Flt/VEN/VE [CBV][BRC][BWC][MC:1]
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