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ComNet > Imperial Navy > Archived Naval Story Board > VEN: Counterpunch: Death
 
 
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Topic:  VEN: Counterpunch: Death
Serpent
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Imperial Baronet

 
Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  675
Total Posts:  1214
Joined:  Jul 2011
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 19, 2013 10:06:40 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
“The TIE/hk Hawkbat is containing who!?” Echoed Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail in unmasked shock and horror.  His words echoed through the bridge of the VSD Brilliant, and no one missed the Captain’s sudden lack of decorum.

“The Naval Commander in Chief,” Said the young Twi’lek at the Com Station.  The Petty Officer had taken over the post temporarily from Dev Mishima and was clearly unnerved by his new position.  “The priority code checks out correctly as Vice-Admiral Krazanr.”

Zail felt his stomach do a twist.  Why?  Why is the Admiral coming here?

There was no time to dwell on it.  He had to go meet the NCC in person or his glorious career would be over in the blink of an eye.

“Clear the Admiral for landing!” Serpent snapped.  “And send an honour guard of Stormtroopers to assemble in the Main Hangar.”  Turning to his First Officer, he added, “Mr Eosel, you have the bridge,” And so saying he strode briskly from the command deck.

-----

Zail moved as quickly as dignity allowed, knowing that he still had several precious minutes before the Naval Commander in Chief landed.  He spent that time wisely and went straight for his spacious quarters.  He took a moment to check his uniform in the mirror, ensuring that he looked the part of a Star Destroyer Captain.  Serpent also had to collect something.

“Raseven!” He called, and one cue his RA7 protocol droid emerged from one of the side rooms.

“You bellowed, sir?” Asked the droid.

“You can understand Shyriiwook, right?”

“Of course I can, sir,” Answered Raseven, sounding offended.  “The primitive growls of primates are well within my range of abilities.  Why, do we have a Wookiee coming on board?  I was unaware that the Vast Empire kept slaves.”

The colour drained from Zail’s face as his servant spoke.  “Okay, now listen up,” He said at last, an edge now in his voice.  “I am taking you to meet the Admiral, who is a Wookiee.  You will not mention the words ‘primitive’, or ‘primate’, and you will certainly not mention the word ‘slave’.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Said Serpent, “Because if you do, not only will I dismantle you personally, but I will transfer your personality chip to one of the ship’s Mouse Droids.  Get it?”

Raseven took a physical step back at the thought of being reduced so far on the droid equivalent of a social hierarchy.  “Most clear, sir,” He said nervously.

Got you! Thought Zail.  “Now, follow me!”

-----

Serpent and Raseven stood on the gleaming deck of the Brilliant’s main hangar, rows of Stormtroopers on either side, forming a corridor to the modified TIE that was now landing before them.  The craft touched down gracefully, a testament to the skill of its pilot.  If a long time away from the cockpit of a fighter had diminished Admiral Krazanr’s skills then it did not show.

A few deck hands ran forward once the ship was landed, helping the massive form of the Naval Commander in Chief to clamber out of the TIE.  Krazanr did not need their help, brushing them aside gently with a massive shaggy arm, and emerged to set foot on the Star Destroyer.

Zail snapped to attention and saluted immediately, followed by the loud thump of twenty Stormtroopers doing the same in perfect unison.

“Admiral Krazanr!  This is an unexpected pleasure, we are honoured by your presence!” Said Serpent as the huge Wookiee (was there any other kind?) strode up to him.

“[At ease, Captain,]” Said the NCC, returning the salute.  “[This is just an impromptu visit.  I am eager to see the fleet that performed so well during the Battle of the Bloodmoon.]”

Zail glanced to his droid for a translation, fear gripping his stomach.  He was expecting the droid to give him some glib translation like “The Admiral says hello,” but no.  Raseven seemed to be relaying the Admiral’s words faithfully.

“Thank you, sir,” Said Serpent once the translation was complete.  “On behalf of the Second Fleet I can say that we are all proud.  The destruction of the Imperial Dominion is going to be a great day for the Vast Empire, and we are just glad we get to be a part of it.”  And then he leaned in a little closer to Krazanr.  “May I ask though, sir, why this ship?  Why not the Adjudicator?”

The Wookiee smiled.  “[Excellent question, Captain Zail,]” He said, “[Lead me to the bridge and all shall be revealed.]”

“Very well, sir,” Replied Serpent, mystified but curious.  “Please, follow me.”

-----

In an ideal world, Zail would have had a living member of the crew do the translation for the Admiral’s address.  However, as the Naval Commander in Chief stood on the bridge, speaking to those present and everyone throughout the ship on speakers, it once again fell to Raseven to provide running commentary.

Kraznar growled and rumbled, his voice varying a lot in pitch and volume.  Serpent had no idea how difficult it must be to learn Shyriiwook, for it seemed such a complex language.  He had enough problems learning Rylothean.

“[...And in light of the dedication of the crew, their tenacity in the face of the ferocity of the Imperial Dominion forces in the Battle of the Bloodmoon,]” Continued the Vice-Admiral, “[I award the Brilliant and her crew the Admiral’s Own!]”  And so saying he pulled a commemorative plaque from the bag that he had asked a deck hand to carry for him.

Zail was stunned as the Wookiee handed him the item.  Gold and silver, finely engraved in Aurebesh, the plaque was a work of art as well as a symbol of honour.  “Thank... Thank you, sir!” Was all Serpent could think to say.

“[Display it with pride, Captain,]” Said Krazanr, and gestured to the wall of the bridge.  Zail went forth and hung the award up, and as he stepped back the bridge crew broke into enthusiastic applause.

He had never been so proud of his ship or his crew.

-----

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Serpent escorted the Admiral to the Brilliant’s luxurious guest quarters.  They stopped at the entrance, and said their goodnights.

“Rest well, Admiral,” Said Zail.  “If you need anything do not hesitate to contact either myself or my XO.  And feel free to stay on board for as long as you wish.”

“[Thank you, Captain, you are most gracious.]” Rumbled the Wookiee.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I have some prisoners to see to,” Said Serpent, turning to leave.

“[Prisoners?]” Asked Krazanr suddenly by way of Raseven’s translation.  “[What prisoners?]”

Zail shrugged.  “Just a few enemy pilots captured at the Bloodmoon,” Said the Captain.  “Nothing special really, I doubt we’ll get much out of them.”

“[I would like to meet these men, Captain,]” Said the Admiral.

“Of course, sir.  Let me know whenever you are ready.  Good night, sir.”

“[Good night, Captain Zail.]”

OOC:
1156 words.  A bit of humour, and my character directly quoted Return of the Jedi.  Also thought I’d give the Admiral’s Own as an IC reason for the visit.

After Action Report:  Vice-Admiral Stormz visits the Brilliant and bestows the ship with an award for its service in the Battle of the Bloodmoon.  The Admiral then opts to stay on board for a while and would like to meet the captured pilots being held on the ship.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
Cervidae
ComNet Novice
 
Cervidae
 
[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class
 
Post Number:  31
Total Posts:  81
Joined:  Nov 2012
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 20, 2013 8:00:54 AM    View the profile of Cervidae 
“Eight.” … “Nine.” … “Ten and Eleven.” …


Quick Fire sat and counted the others that walked by him. He counted out loud -- not particularly for anyone to hear him, but he mostly because he could. They were nothing more than just numbers to him and he was nothing more than scenery to them; it was just something to pass the time as he waited for his friend to finish up a sim run. Aside from counting people, however, there wasn’t much for the flight member to do. The option to go back to the hangars was a tempting one, especially since that’s where he had spent a good majority of his time during Bloodmoon where he put his past with the Lant Mining Corporation to work as brute strength and knowledge for metals were needed. Yet, the battles had ended and the Interceptors were quickly settled down, leaving Elijah to be set free to do whatever he pleased. Besides the little details, there wasn’t anything that he could jump into and assist with at the time being. All Eli really could do now was wait for the fellow Chlovi member to hurry up and finish before they could meet up with the rest of the 50th Squadron. 


Slowly, the white-haired flight member set his attention back on people-watching. Everyone seemed to be running around blindly, trying to find any sort of things to fix (often returning to the same things three or four times) before the next big battle. From rumors drifting around the halls, the amount of bloodshed that had occurred at Bloodmoon was to be dwarfed by the upcoming slaughter.  To Elijah Garris, it wasn’t exactly a big surprise. Even without actually experiencing the battle himself, he already felt as if Bloodmoon was just the opening act to something that would have a very close call in terms of what type of victory was to be declared. It was almost to be expected that the VEN would come out on top, especially given that those in the Dominion were really on their last fighting legs. They were using their last bit of defense by sending in the Saints, that much was obvious. Such a squadron that was able to make quick work of many 50th members before they even realized what had hit them was as inspiring as it was intimidating. The fact that even the SCO of the squad was thrown into the medbay was an incredible feat by any stretch of the imagination.


The man wasn’t one who could be labeled a daydreamer -- often sticking to the more realistic parts of a story -- but even the future couldn’t be completely viewed realistically. As long as there was a future to think about, there was always a dream. Yet, often, a dream could not exist without nightmares. Worst case scenarios where no one returned could dance as freely within the mind’s eye of a green flight member as a total victory could. It was Eli’s dedication to compromise, however, that had him mixing both at every chance he got. The only logical thing to assume of any flight out was that a good majority of them weren’t going to return. Whether or not that meant him he really couldn’t say, but it would be absolute suicide to assume that others weren’t going to go down in flames.  People he was starting to become closer to, learning more about them than just a name or callsign, were going to die and he was going to have to accept that.


Dark, well-tanned hands ran themselves through the flight member’s snow-white hair, setting off a contrast that had always humored him. He wasn’t typically a cynical man, but today felt much more somber as the whole ship attempted to cycle those in the reserves into the main crew to make up for the losses. A half smirk crossed Quick Fire’s face, nodding as he rose from his seat. It was growing apparent that waiting around wasn’t doing him much good, but he really didn’t have a choice in leaving anymore. As long as Sebastian “Ferret” Raidro was still in the simulators, Elijah was stuck waiting for him. The two didn’t get along like a typical friendship -- mostly due to the fact that Ferret was as squirrely as they came -- but they got along amicably. And Eli knew better than to leave the man alone with others. Anything remotely close to a situation with a stranger would lead to the instant retreat of the other Flight member -- something like that was the absolute last thing that he wanted while there was squadron that needed to be met up with. 


Quick Fire sighed, leaning against the wall as his patience continued to draw out for his friend to finish up. A song from his days on Demar escaped his lips in a hum, turning his attention back to the flurry of people that ran back and forth in front of him. It wouldn’t be much longer for Ferret to finish up his run, that much was certain. All there was to do now was to wait.


“Twelve.”

OOC:

WC: 862

AAR: A brief introduction to a Chlovi NPC by the name of Elijah "Quick Fire" Garris while he waits outside of the simulators. A native of the industrial world of Demar, Eli joined the Vast Empire when he was eighteen after he decided that working in and around mines with the Lant Mining Corporation wasn't what he wanted to do with his life. Although he can typically be found in the hangars, helping with most anything that needs help, he is a flyer at the end of the day. Along with his friend Ferret, he has been removed from the Chlovi Reserves and is the SXO's wingman. And, were it not for the fact he is waiting on Ferret to finish up in a simulator run, he would have already gone to find Cervidae.
SXO/PO2/Cervidae/Cobalt 7/S:50 "Chlovi" W:101 "Blade"/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/2FL/SC/VEN/VE [SoA][*CO*][MiD][MC1][CC:1]


"The world is not a wish-granting factory; you must earn what you deserve."
DeepSix
ComNet Member
 
DeepSix
 
[VE-DJO] Adept
[VE-ICS] Pirate Swabbie
[VE-NAVY] Lt. Commander
 
Post Number:  705
Total Posts:  973
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 20, 2013 2:45:07 PM    View the profile of DeepSix 
OOC:
VENI NPC post

Sleep... the notion would've been deemed laughable by greener agents. Some would be filled with anxiety, thinking the upcoming mission was just another chance to prove themselves. Some would maintain a clear head and instead think of various plans to improve their odds of success. Others however would be unable to sleep for entirely different reasons altogether. The faces of the dead, be them allies or foes alike, always popping in their dreams and either staring with cold accusing eyes or instead screaming and howling in the silence...

Of all the agents most secret agencies used at any one point in time only a fraction of them could actually be considered veterans. Only those that could overcome the harsh realities they were faced with in each and every mission would in turn be recognized as elite. The five occupants of the shuttle Nightdancer were supposedly just such individuals, each and every one of them picked for their outstanding skills in the various specialized fields they operated within.

The Ensign? QuaD could tell there was a whole lot more hiding underneath the pretty package she allowed the world to see. He couldn't quite tell what her deal was, but could however correctly deduce that she had ample strength of her own. That much was evident given her piercing stare, her calculated expression which he knew was in no way kept as such by mere chance and even her confident steps as she led the way throughout the Brilliant.

The one trying to hide his military background and connections? As with Grey, QuaD was unable to properly read him. He could see cunning, ambition, danger and above all intelligence in the man's emerald eyes but even so the fellow's thoughts remained all but a mystery as far as the killer was concerned. He could've used his experience to guess but feared such deductions would turn against him should he ever have to rely on them. QuaD was not the sort of man to deal in speculation or hearsay. He much preferred facts, for the latter never lied...

In regards to the two other acquisitions to the team - well things were a whole lot easier there. In the eyes of both brothers QuaD was able to recognize a look he had seen time and again in the various targets he put down. He could see ambition. He could see lust. He could see impatience. Underneath it all however he could see the shining glimmer of death, as well as the pleasure taken from the act itself. The two brothers were not soldiers... they were instead killers given free reign to practice their trade.

It was not the only thing QuaD could tell about his two other companions though. The way the two brothers spoke to one another... The way their body language enforced certain issues... Above all the way they looked at one another... From all of these QuaD could tell he was dealing with a master-vassal relationship of sorts, one made even stronger given the bonds of blood shared between the two. It was a dangerous thing to bring such individuals along for such an important mission and the experienced agent could not help but wonder just how things could deteriorate should anything at all threaten to break that relationship... or worse still, should that bond be severed entirely.

Such things were not yet important however. Even if they should eventually come to pass QuaD did not fear them. He had both the skills and equipment he needed to deal with near any sort of situation he could possibly end up facing. The outcome however was bound to be rather red, wet and warm... with possible darker solid chunks thrown in the mix.

Ignoring both the bright green eyes staring at him from across the hull as well as the whispered banter the two brothers were engaged in by his side, QuaD closed his eyes and tried to rest instead. He was still a bit tired and knew there was a good chance he'd drift off to sleep soon enough. He also knew however that as his conscious mind would make way to the primal side of his brain, thoughts regarding both his new teammates as well as the mission would not stop popping in his head. His lips formed a brief grin as all outside stimuli were one by one snuffed out, a relaxing yet not as peaceful sleep overtaking his senses instead...

OOC:
WC: 743
AAR: Short post - a brief peek into QuaD's mind regarding his teammates. The fellow decides to pretty much sleep the whole journey too... Lazy bum!
WC/LCDR DeepSix/Golden One/S:38th Vornskr/W:101st Blade/ISD-II Adjudicator/TF:A/2Flt/SC/VEN/VE [=*TG*=] [=*VIM*=]

Consultant/LCDR DeepSix/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

TRN/AD DeepSix/DJO/Training Sect/VEDJ
Serpent
ComNet Member
Imperial Baronet

 
Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Lieutenant
 
Post Number:  677
Total Posts:  1214
Joined:  Jul 2011
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 20, 2013 8:49:37 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:
Imperial Dominion NPC Post


The battered Imperial Dominion fleet floated in the Sollamens Asteroid Field.  It was here that they were rearming and preparing to hold the line against the Vast Empire offensive that was certain to come soon, their crews resolute and determined.

The bridge of the Victory-Class Star Destroyer Ravisher was a frenzy of activity.  There was work taking place on every deck, frantic repairs up and down the length of the mighty warship, all being co-ordinated by the command deck.  Overseeing the chaos was the CO of the Ravisher, Commander Rand Ilusan.

Ilusan was a man of below average height, small of frame but athletic and well-built under his uniform.  Despite his short stature, his intimidating stare allowed him to somehow loom over his subordinates and intimidate them if need be.  And the need was now.  The Commander was pushing his crew hard to refit the ship, and ready the Star Destroyer for battle.

The memory of the Battle of the Bloodmoon was still sharp in Ilusan’s mind.  The Vast Empire had fought hard, with a tenacity that the graduate of the Prefsbelt Imperial Naval Academy could appreciate.  He may no longer serve the Imperial Remnant, but Ilusan would not have joined the Imperial Dominion if its navy did not have honour and pride.  And that pride had sorely been wounded by his fleet’s withdrawal.

He recalled the skirmish with the VSD Brilliant, and still felt the shame of his retreat.  For a moment he felt that the rival Star Destroyer was going to pursue his into range of his supporting frigate’s guns, but no.  The other Captain had not gone for it.  The Brilliant had survived, and now his Ravisher would get a chance to atone for their failure.

Suddenly his First Officer, Ensign Bradal, stepped forward.  “Sir!  Engineering reports that full power has now been restored to the port cannons, and shield generators are also fully operational!”

“Excellent,” Said Ilusan, dragging out the word with his finely educated Corulag accent.  “Continue work on the starboard side and update me when that too is complete.  Anything else?”

“Yes, sir!” Replied Bradal.  “I have here the report you requested from Fleet Intelligence about the Brilliant and its Captain,” And so saying he handed his superior a datapad.

“Thank you, Bradal, dismissed,” Said the Commander, offering a quick salute and then turning his full attention to the wealth of information in his hand.

He read the file on Captain Pherik Zail with great interest.  The man was an Alderaanian of all things, a rare sight in any Imperial faction.  Young, barely in his thirties, but his meteoric rise up the ranks had been hard-earned and he had paid his dues.

Suddenly, Ilusan’s eyes narrowed on a certain detail of Zail’s file.  The man was the Naval Intelligence liaison for his fleet.  Now that was interesting!  It meant that there was likely much more to this Captain than his file indicated, but thus far ID Intelligence had been unable to gather much about the Alderaanian’s exact role in the infamous VENI.

Next, the Commander accessed the records of the Brilliant itself.  A formidable ship, it had put in a good performance in one or two engagements, but nothing as yet really leapt out about its crew.  To be in the Vast Empire’s famed Second Fleet they had to be somewhat competent, but Ilusan began to wonder if they had ever truly been pushed.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to the experienced Dominion captain.

“Bradal!” He called, and the Ensign came running to his side.  “How many troops do we have on board currently?”

The First Officer of the Ravisher consulted his notes.  “We have one thousand six hundred and eighty nine combat-ready Stormtroopers on board, sir,” He replied promptly and accurately.  “Plus a further two hundred and seventeen injured who may be capable of returning to combat before the next battle, why?”

“I want you to put a priority transmission in to High Command on Tilsec Prime,” He said.  “I know they have no capital ships to spare, but what about boarding craft?  I want to officially requisition any Gamma-Class assault shuttles they have, plus Drill Pod Boarding craft too.”

“Very well, sir,” Said Bradal simply.  “I shall do so immediately.”  The Ensign was not the kind to question his superior (one of the reasons that Ilusan had selected him as XO in fact) and simply went off to carry out the order.

The Commander himself slipped off to his ready room, and there placed a priority transmission to Captain Ramius Raizo of the flagship Reactionary.  After a few moments waiting, the sad face of the Fleet Commander appeared in hologram form above his table.  Ilusan did not really know Raizo, but he had heard the rumours circulating about the other’s deteriorating health.  Raizo certainly looked drained, but that may simply be the combat fatigue that had been wearing at all the Dominion Navy following their string of defeats.

“What is it Commander?” Asked the other man without preamble.

“Just keeping you abreast of my plans, sir,” Said Ilusan, his voice respectful.  “I have requested as many boarding craft as I can get, to be assigned to the Ravisher.”

Raizo’s tired eyes did not look enthralled.  “To what end?” He asked.

“I intend to board and capture one of the Vast Empire’s capital ships,” Said the Commander, trying hard not to keep the obvious answer from sounding sarcastic.  “At the very least it will sow chaos among our foes, at best we will be able to take one of their ships.  It’s an essential step in rebuilding our Naval forces.”

The Fleet Commander nodded and said “Very well, the plan has my blessing”, but something about the pain in his eyes told Ilusan that he meant to say something else.  Do you think it doesn’t matter, is that it?  That there will be no rebuilding since we are going to lose?

Ilusan did not believe that.  He was not beat yet.  He had a plan, and he was going to execute it.

And the fall of this Captain Pherik Zail would be the first step on the Imperial Dominion’s path to recovery!

OOC:
1029 words.  I usually do battles from the point of view of both my character and the enemy commander, but during Counterpunch: Death and my battle with the VSD Ravisher I did not.  So here I am, introducing Serpent’s rival for the coming battle.

After Action Report:  Commander Rand Ilusan of the Imperial Dominion VSD Ravisher is getting his ship ready at the Sollamens Asteroid Field.  He has a score to settle with Captain Zail and the Brilliant.  Realising that the ID Navy needs more ships, he hatches a plan to board his rival.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
Hades
ComNet Member
Imperial Baronet

 
Hades
 
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
 
Post Number:  787
Total Posts:  1245
Joined:  Nov 2011
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 12:50:15 AM    View the profile of Hades 
Commander Okyr Vrail descended from his shuttle as the ramp lowered, boots clanking against the solid metal platform before crunching on the surface of Tilsec Prime as he emerged, blue eyes glaring at the smoke rising from the TIE Vanguard that had pitched nose-first into the ground less than a hundred meters away, surrounded by black-armoured marines of the VSD Bombastic. Vrail could have easily requested troops from high command on Tilsec Prime, but requests meant waiting, and Vrail had not wanted to give the VENI agent any more time than he already had. One of the Marines approached him and saluted smartly, "Commander!" His military-style voice barked, "The crash site is abandoned. Judging from the terrain, he's headed up into the mountain ranges. We'd have spotted him through fly-bys otherwise."

"I see." Vrail replied without emotion, "I want you to do something for me," the Commander paused and glared at the man's rank plate - he was a Lieutenant. "Lieutenant."

"Yessir?"

"Rally your men, and begin combing the hills for this agent. I want to go with you. If anyone should find him before me, I do not want him harmed.." Vrail paused for emphasis. "..much."

"Understood, sir." The Lieutenant replied, "What about the crash site?"

"I will requisition a squad from High Command to guard it. It's useless to us, but he might come back." The Marine Officer nodded in agreement.

"Aye sir."

Vrail glared at the fighter for a few more minutes, before the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He had an unpleasant feeling that he was being watched. The Imperial Commander turned around, ice blue eyes glaring up at the hills. Run, little rabbit, Vrail thought venomously at the tree-covered hill, run for your life.

--- --- ---

Hades watched through his macrobinoculars as they tore apart his fighter looking for clues. He allowed himself a small smirk; he was certain that he'd not left anything incriminating behind. He'd initiated the automatic purge of the systems as he had gone into a dive, knowing he'd have no need of the fleet's location or anything for that matter from his fighter's computer. When the shuttle landed, the young Ensign felt a jolt of electricity run through his body - he'd know who he was up against, and it would be their commanding officer. He was absolutely certain of it. His eyes narrowed when he saw who it was, though.

Vrail, he seethed silently, you ruthless son-of-a-gundark. Here was his archnemesis, once again within his reach but protected by an overwhelming number of combat-ready troops. Hades would get his chance eventually. Vrail turned suddenly and glared at the hill on which Hades lay, concealed by bushes, blue eyes seeming to home in on the exact spot he hid. Hades froze, not wanting to make himself obvious through movement and for a second thought he was discovered.. a chill ran up his spine as he stared directly into that penetrating gaze, but Vrail turned away, mouth moving as Hades assumed he barked orders at the men. Noting the rank bars on his enemy's uniform, Hades frowned - why was he promoted when he lost a ship and an enemy prisoner of war?. All that could wait, though. Hades crawled backward slowly, until he was over the ridge. The last thing he'd seen was the marines spreading out in a line and heading his way. It was time to move, and time to move fast. Smoke coming from behind the next rise caught his attention and he headed towards it.

Hades moved quickly over the poor terrain; as a single man running from a group of enemies, he would be moving much faster than a line of Marines carefully scanning for him. A crack from behind him caused his head to snap around, gaze focusing on the hill-top he'd just descended from. The snap had been a branch on the other side of the slope, meaning the marines were moving faster than he thought. Frak, Hades thought to himself as he began to double time it. The young VENI agent knew now he should have gotten a head start, but he had to see who was hunting him. Now he knew it was Vrail, it had strengthened his resolve to stay out of their grip. Moving quickly, Hades was thankful for the time he'd spent training his body to endure pain as he lithely zig-zagged up the next slope, thighs bulging at the punishment. Once he reached the top, he saw a small settlement down below - it looked like a more expensive, more industrial version of Naboo architecture; albeit on a small scale. It was the ID equivalent of a frontier town, Hades assumed. He had no idea how friendly these people were to the ID, so he'd steer clear of that town for now.. Still, Hades mused, I can use it as a distraction.

He could see a military outpost down there, too - but it was more like a regional patrol office than a full blown base. He could see one man on guard in old fatigues and figured there would be at max a dozen people. He was confident in his abilities.. Well, he'd taken down a Tartan with naught but a blaster so thirteen men should be no trouble. He hoped. Hades descended the slope warily, and approached the outpost from behind. It wasn't the ID's main military, he noticed, but in fact a sort of militarised police - a far cry from the highly trained offensive force of the Imperial Dominion. Hades could just see into a window and frowned - there were only three. Perfect..

The small gap between the outpost and the next building was small enough to be inconspicuous and big enough to fit Hades. He took full advantage of this and slid into it, jogging silently up to the corner and peering around. There was no-one about for now, aside from the single guard who was now sitting down, facing the main entrance to the settlement. It was a small settlement with no more than a dozen buildings lining a single main street, and a single entrance to said street, while the other end finished at the base of a cliff. In a crouch, Hades approached the careless guard. It was too easy - a hand on the chin and the back of the head with a sharp twist saw to it that the man would never get up again. The sickening crack was proof of that. Hades dragged the body around the corner and donned the man's uniform - fortunately it was close enough to his size, though Hades thought he wore it much better than the lazy guard had.

It had a light body armour underneath as well, and Hades strapped the man's pistol to his other hip, meaning he had two now. Only one of them was silent, and that was his small Verpine. The outpost was a small structure with a weak door - they obviously didn't expect trouble this far out of the capital.. they were about to be very sorry for that. Hades recalled from memory where each man had been standing, before placing an ear to the flimsy door. "..we didn't capture him; he let us take him. He wants something."

That was the first and biggest man, judging from the voice. He was standing close to the cells. "And what could that be? He's an enemy spy, I'm telling you! We should contact control and let them handle him." A second voice chipped in and, judging by the clipped tones, a smarter one.

"-and let them take all the glory? Frak no, I say we interrogate him." The third voice, with a strong Nar Shaddaa accent came into the picture. Hades had it in his head where each man stood, and which voice belonged to who. He had to make a decision.. was it worth questioning them? Hades came to a decision rather quickly and kicked down the door, Verpine raised. Thwap, thwap, thwap! Three almost silent noises in rapid succession - headshot, headshot, headshot. Blood painted the walls of the small structure as each man's head was penetrated by a high velocity slug. Hades breathed deeply and quickly took the biggest man's access key, striding to the cell. Raising his Verpine once more, Hades deactivated the cell door and focused on its contents. A dark-skinned, tattooed human looked back at him, hair cut in a military fashion and wearing only black body armour over his combat gear. Hades frowned.

"So you're the point man." The prisoner stood up and Hades stepped backwards cautiously, "I've heard good things about you. We'll soon see if you're worth your weight in gold, as the reports say."

"And you are?" Hades demanded, relaxing slightly, but keeping his Verpine steady.

"They haven't told you about me? I should be offended.." The man's smile disappeared. "Blade. Vast Empire Naval Intelligence. Welcome to Tilsec Prime, Ensign."

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,501.

AAR: Hades is on the run from Vrail's marines when he stumbles across a local settlement - imagine a frontier town from the wild west but with Victorian architecture - and completely by accident, meets up with VENI's agent on the ground. Introducing Agent Blade, the final VENI member of the Tilsec Prime operation!

Chief of Naval Training, 54th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | A-1 | S:54 "Gundark" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited February 21, 2013 11:52:38 AM)]
Hades
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Hades
 
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
 
Post Number:  793
Total Posts:  1245
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 2:11:43 PM    View the profile of Hades 
“No time for formalities, I have more than a hundred ID marines on my tail.” Hades growled, “get your stuff and let’s go!”

Blade did not reply, but walked past Hades and grabbed a leather trench coat, a long, double-edged blade, two blaster pistols and around half a dozen small knives, each stored somewhere on his body. Blade turned back toward Hades as he picked up one of the guards’ rifles, tossing it to Hades. Having holstered his Verpine, Hades caught it easily and slung it on his back. “Follow me.”

Hades did as he was told – it was only professional courtesy to refer to the agent on the ground’s better judgment.. but it was a courtesy oft overlooked. Hades himself endeavoured to never overlook it – agents like Blade were the key to operations such as this one and if new agents like Hades or indeed Ensign Grey came in and overruled his judgement, it would be disastrous for the operation and would most likely cost their lives. Hades had had missions before where outsiders thought they knew better than him the situation on the ground. Almost every time, Hades had let the outsiders lead them into chaos and let them reap the assured self-destruction that they showed, and every time the higher ups had found Hades blameless.  Idiots like that brought it on themselves..

Blade moved fast, but Hades managed to keep up and within two minutes they were out of the town and into the forest again. “I saw you come in, figured I’d better save your ass. That and the resistance had a few supporters in the settlement you just saw.”

“Save my..?” Hades cut himself off; it would do no good arguing who saved who for now. “Right. You say ‘had’?”

Blade didn’t pause, didn’t blink, just kept moving, “I say ‘had’ because when I got there no-one was around, except for the four idiots you killed. I’m guessing they’re dead or worse.”

“Bad news, then?”

“You could say that.” Blade responded sarcastically before he explained, “It means that Karstok’s gotten wind of the plot, or at least some part of it.”

“Interesting..” Hades mused, “where are we going?”

“A safehouse.” Hades nodded in understanding and fell silent, the other VENI agent clearly not wanting to talk.  It wasn’t long before they reached yet another ridge, this time on the other side of the settlement. Looking through a break in the trees, Hades could see movement on the far side, the slope he’d descended earlier. The marines were coming. As they watched, the Marines left a twelve-man squad in the settlement to search it and act as a rearguard, while the rest of them ignored the settlement completely. Hades groaned – they’d have to move faster. He and Blade did not need to talk to convey the message; both of them set off at a jog, caution out the window as they descended the other side of the same hill, hoping they’d be fast enough. All of a sudden, the ground dropped out from beneath Hades has his feet found empty air. The world went topsy-turvy as Hades fell into a deep ditch, bruising several limbs. He just lay there for a moment, growling in pain.

“Hades! They’re almost to the edge of the ditch! Conceal yourself!” Blade hissed across the comm, obviously hidden already. Hades didn’t glorify him with a reply, but tried to get his bearings. He thought he saw a man next to him, in a similar position and took it to be blade, at first.. but the rotting flesh told him it wasn’t. What the frak.. It was then Hades realised he was in an impromptu mass grave. Osik.. Sounds from above let him know the marines were almost to the edge of the ditch, like Blade had said, and Hades thought fast. Doing the only thing he could think of, he scurried forward..

--- --- ---
Vrail narrowed his eyes at the ditch – it was a war crime that he’d not known about.. He had no aversion to war crimes, but the stench and the horror of the mass grave disgusted him. The marines hesitated at the edge of the ditch, not wanting to go down. “Get down there!” Vrail snarled, “shoot the bodies to make sure our quarry is not among them. The bravest marine got down first and his comrades, upon seeing the man unharmed, shortly followed. Blasters hummed as they all began to walk through the grave, the cacophony of blaster bolts beginning as the first trooper fired into a pile of the dead. The other troopers did similarly for the other piles of dead civilians – and they were civilians.

But why? Vrail knew the situation here on Tilsec Prime was bad, but he didn’t realise that the authorities had resorted to mass murder. It made no sense.. The marines had reached the other side of the ditch now, and Okyr himself climbed down, carefully making his way through the stinking congregation of murdered souls and being helped up on the other side by the Marine lieutenant he’d spoken to earlier. Vrail pulled out his pistol, taking aim and firing into the corpse of a nearby civilian. A satisfied smile followed, and Vrail put his pistol away.. he needed to do that; it relieved some stress. “Sir?” a voice snapped him out of his sick enjoyment and Vrail glared at the offending marine, “sir, there’s a set of tracks leading off this way..”

Vrail calmed himself and nodded, “Thank you Sergeant. Let’s go.”

--- --- ---

The blaster bolt fired by Vrail was undeniably too close. Hades had thought he was discovered for a second time, though it was just Vrail having some fun at the expense of a dead man’s honour. That said, Hades was hiding underneath the same dead man and three other civilians. He only just managed to keep the bile from rising up and out of his mouth.. The VENI Agent kept still and just as he thought it was safe, he heard voices coming from the direction of the settlement. The rearguard ,Hades realised. The sound of their boots impacting against the ditch floor was obvious in the quiet of the forest, and their voices grew so Hades could now hear their conversation.

One of the marines whistled, “Someone’s been busy. Was this us?”

“No, too far into decomposition..” Another marine replied.

They were silent for a moment as they all pondered the implications. “Do you think it was Karstok?”

“It can’t have been, I mean he’s one of us, right?”

“No, he’s a leader. Leaders have to do some unpleasant things to get their way..” There was another silence as boots crunched against the muddy ditch, passing Hades now.

“These are civilians sarge.. that’s not what we stand for. These guys were unarmed and executed!”

“That’s enough, Corporal.. for all we know it could have been anyone.”

“Whatever you say sarge. Something’s frakked up here.” The Corporal muttered in response. The squad fell silent again and Hades could hear them climbing up the other bank, leaving him once more alone amongst the crowds of decomposing dead. The young ensign waited a good ten minutes just to be safe before he rolled the dead off himself and stood up. The first thing he did, though, was to double over and regurgitate the last rations he’d eaten. Hades had an iron stomach and had experienced his fair share of dead people.. but never this close, for this long, or so long after they’d died. It was horrendous.

“Ready to go, pretty boy?” Blade’s voice emanated from behind him. Hades turned, glaring at him with emerald eyes silently before brushing past him. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The other VENI agent smiled and followed Hades, catching up to him easily and guiding the way. “Now we know what happened to the settlement..”

“Who was it?” Hades asked, regaining some of his colour now.

Blade’s mouth set in a grim line, “Karstok’s men. A company of them were here just before you arrived.”

“How do you know?” Hades flicked a glance over his shoulder, to make sure the ditch was well and truly behind them.

“The guards you killed were talking about them.”

“Ah.” Hades fell silent once again, allowing his stomach to recover before he attempted to speak again.

“I’ve got two speeder bikes and some fresh clothes up ahead. We should be there in a few hours.” Blade offered unnecessarily. Hades nodded slowly, not bothering to ask any questions. He didn’t have any more, he just wanted to get out of these filthy fatigues.

They arrived at a small, cabin-like structure after three hours of hard going, atop a rocky outcropping but hidden by a jutting formation of rocks and trees. It would take hours for anyone to get up here. Blade went first, pressing several keys on a hidden keypad before opening the door and stepping in a predetermined place to disable the alarms and safety mechanisms. Blade didn’t need to get changed or rest, so went outside again to ready the speeder bikes. Hades had begun to suspect that Blade was some sort of machine – pure efficiency, minimum emotions. He was still glad that he wasn’t doing this alone, though. There was similar clothing to Blade’s inside, so Hades changed quickly, donning the black fatigues with black body armour. There was a spot for his pistols and for the rifle he’d picked up as well.

After around ten minutes, Hades emerged from the cabin ready to go – despite the fact he ached in more than a few places. Blade gave him a cursory glance as he came out, then grinned, “You don’t wear it as well as me.. but it still suits you.”

Hades, in no mood for jokes, brushed past him again and mounted the closest speeder bike, sealing the matching helmet over his head and waiting for Blade to lock the cabin again before he turned the machine on. A powerful whine greeted him, followed by a menacing growl from the bike’s engines. Hades grinned for the first time in a while; these were quality speeder bikes and Hades would enjoy putting them to the test. The underslung minigun just completed the fun.

“It’ll takes us until after the sun goes down to reach the rendezvous,” Blade’s voice called over the communications system, A disadvantage of not being seen by the patrols, I guess. The detour had cost them time, but arriving after dark was the only way they’d get into the city – despite the curfew. It was easier to infiltrate anything at night. Blade started up his engines now, and the twin roars of the bikes sent a pleasant shiver down Hades’ spine. He had an appreciation for fine machines like this..

Blade went first, going up and over the rocky outcropping, before heading down the steep slope with brakes partially applied. Hades did the same, mirroring every movement of the experienced agent. It had taken them more than an hour to get up the slope on foot, but going down on these things took them the better part of ten minutes. As the speeder bikes levelled out with the land, Blade opened a channel between them, “this is where the fun begins.”

Hades clicked his comm in acknowledgement, showing displeasure. Despite that signal, Hades was smiling. He just didn’t want to give Blade the satisfaction of showing him something fun to do. They were into the forest now, where trees were a real hazard. It took all of Hades’ skill with the bike to dodge branches, rocks, and other obstacles in the forested foothills. The roaring of the bikes was now painfully obvious to Hades, and he wondered why they couldn’t have chosen quieter bikes. It was only when Blade signalled him and told him to activate quiet running mode that he realised they had. The noise all but died and, while their speed was affected by the silent-running mode, the bikes were still damned fast.

“We’ll be out of this forest in around two hours.. an hour or so after that we’ll reach the RV point,” Blade muttered over the comm, “We’ll stop a kilometer out and go in on foot. Harder to spot that way.”

“Acknowledged,” Hades responded quietly. He wanted to get on with the mission; when would Grey and her team get here? Who would they bring? These were things on Hades’ mind – they might need as much support as they could get in this stage of the missions, and it would be exacerbated by an extended waiting period. The thoughts soon passed, as did the two hours. Before Hades knew it they were out of the forest and onto dune-like terrain – these were the hills just before the plains of Tilsec Prime’s capital city, which meant they were almost there.

“We’re getting close,” Blade’s clipped tones came across his headset. Hades looked across at the speeder bike alongside him and nodded shortly. “We’ve got a contact meeting us there with transport too.”

Hades frowned. Why had Blade not told him this before? Didn’t he trust him? Hades didn’t voice his questions.. That could be saved for later. The lights of the capital city were evident now as darkness began to fall, softly at first then overwhelming the dying sunset.. Hades was glad that the helmet had nightvision on it.  Blade had marked a point on the HUD around a kilometre away that they were fast approaching – the Rendezvous point – as the two riders rocketed over ground that was starting to level out. Just as it seemed as though the ground would flatten into plains, the two bikes shot over the edge of a crater at least one hundred meters deep and twenty to thirty meters wide.. Meteor impact? Probably from the junk in orbit.

There were also caves embedded in the walls of the crater, Hades noticed as they descended. Interesting.. When they finally got to the bottom, Hades and Blade both parked their bikes under a rocky over-hang. “We might have been followed;” Blade murmured, “you take up position there,” the dark-skinned human nodded at a shadowed ledge with some foliage – there were many similar ledges around the walls of the crater, and this one did not stand out. Hades could not fault his choice, “and I’ll  be over there.”

This time Blade gestured at a rock formation on the far side of the crater, just as concealed as the ledge. Hades nodded, “Alright. I’ll give you the all-clear signal when I see a friendly,”

“Likewise,” came the stoic reply. Once they were positioned, they didn’t have to wait long. A steady vibration grew and grew, shaking Hades’ perch mercilessly – though it didn’t dislodge him or ruin his cover. The rocks would mask any signature he’d normally give off; the crater contained a natural element that acted as sensor masking.. Perhaps why Blade had chosen this exact spot. Hades waited for the vibrations to come closer, confident in his concealed location. Sure enough it was an unmarked shuttle which Hades knew would belong to VENI.

The shuttle landed, expertly manoeuvred into the narrow but deep crater. The shuttle settled and silence once again fell upon the crater.. after a few minutes of waiting, the shuttle’s ramp opened and a muscular looking man emerged, similar rifle to the one Hades held raised. He was followed by an even larger man with a massive blade on his back and a heavy support blaster carried at the hip, a wild glare telling Hades he was not someone to trifle with. Hades waited still, even though they looked like VENI. Appearances could be deceiving, after all.. Next to emerge was Grey. The blonde woman walked out as if she were taking a stroll, casual as anything, and gestured at the men. Both of the muscular figures gave her a look as if to say ‘are you crazy?’ but lowered their weapons regardless.

“Stay put.” Blade ordered over their private comm. Channel, before emerging himself. In an instant, Grey and the two men whirled, blasters raised and aimed at the man on the ground. Blade tuned his audio receptors so that Hades could listen in…

“—Welcome to Tilsec Prime, ma’am—“ Blade’s customary greeting, it seemed.

OOC:
Wordcount: 2,720.. sorry for the double post.

AAR: Hades and Blade give Vrail the slip and manage to meet up with Grey and her team, though Blade's still a little suspicious and told Hades to remain in concealment until Grey proves her identity

Chief of Naval Training, 54th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | A-1 | S:54 "Gundark" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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StOrMz
ComNet Sultan
Imperial Baronet

 
StOrMz
 
[VE-NAVY] Vice Admiral
[VE-VEEC] Ink Slinger
[VE-VEHC] Vice Admiral*
[VE-VEMC] Brigadier General
 
Post Number:  1980
Total Posts:  2217
Joined:  Oct 2004
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 2:58:22 PM    View the profile of StOrMz 
Ph'rranix' temporary living quarters, while still elegant and comfortable, felt unusual to him. It'd been years since the Admiral had left his flag ship, the Atrus]/i]. He'd grown accustomed to having everything in a very specific place and order. He'd always been picky like that, OCD even.

He didn't realize how much his speech and transit had worn him out, until retreating to his sleep quarters moments ago. The Wookiee felt as though a curtain of darkness had begun falling upon him, pushing him into a state of unconsciousness. Without fighting the feeling, the massive form plopped down on the bed, remembering again how much different it was not being in his own.

******

Stormz woke up frantically, feeling around his surroundings before finding the switched that turned the overhead light on. He'd imagined that he was captured, and sent away to a slave labor colony, never to be heard of again.

Looking over, the Admiral realized the time, 0900 Galactic Standard Time. Being proud of himself for sleeping past his normal 0500 routine, the Wookiee slowly stood, starting to stretch out just as his furry paws pushed against the ceiling.

[Currse these shorrtened ceilings,] he bellowed before remembering that his quarters had been renovated to allow him more comfort in regards to height. It wasn't easy being almost two and a half meters tall, however, he'd grown accustomed to it after a ten year stint with the Vast Empire.

[Well, I suppose it's time to get to work,] he muttered to himself, as he began preparing for the days activities.

*****

Walking into the Bridge, Krazanr found Zail, the Captain of the ISD [i]Brilliant
hard at work, leading his shipmates. The Wookiee's walk, although light in his terms, protruded a thud loud enough to get Serpent's attention, causing him to turn and salute the Admiral.

[At ease, Lieutenant,] muttered the Wookiee as he gently motioned for Zail to put his hand down. [What's on the agenda for today?] Stormz questioned.

"The Wookiee wants to know what duties he'll attend to today." sputtered Raseven.

Pherik's face turned seven shades of red in embarrassment. Stormz showed no sign of emotion, confusing the ship captain slightly.

"Admiral, I was hoping to lead you on a tour of this fine ship, and perhaps introduce you to some of our officers serving aboard this ship," he responded tentatively.

[Of course, Lieutenant. Lead the way,] the Wookiee bellowed.

Raseven turned to Pherik, informatively translating, "The Admiral agrees, although a bit reluctant."

"That'll be quite enough from you, Raseven," Zail barked before Stormz ripped the Lieutenants limbs off.

"Sir, if I may inquire," Raseven said, "how does an entity of your stature gain such a prominent position within the Empire?"

[By ripping people, and droids, who are a nuisance to pieces,] he shot back. The aggression within Stormz was starting to show on his face, as Zail dismissed the sarcastic droid and requested a new one be sent on their tour.

OOC:
After Action Report:

WC: 539. From now on, Tryk, you're in charge of counting them. I can't count that high.

Goings on: Ph'rranix sleeps, wakes, speaks with Zail, almost rips Serpent's droid into tiny pieces, and they begin their tour of the Brilliant
Naval High Command
NCC|Vice Admiral StOrMz|NHC|VEN|VE

First Naval Fleet
C-SCAP|Vice Admiral|mSSD Atrus|Task Force: Aurek|First Fleet|VEN|VE

[NSM][IG][SWC][SRC][BI][IGC][MoH][MC2]
(=A=)(=^SA^=)(=ME=)(=*MAE*=)(=FOCE=)(=*TG*=)(=*ENG*=)(=*BO*=)(=AFM=)(=VM=)(=COM=)

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Kilroy
ComNet Initiate
 
Kilroy
 
[VE-ARMY] Lance Corporal
[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
Post Number:  119
Total Posts:  120
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 9:18:57 PM    View the profile of Kilroy 
OOC:
Chlovi


[Are you sure this is a good idea, Crewman Varl?]

“Visiting the wounded of the previous battle?  Sir, if I may be frank, having a delegate coming into the medbay would just go to show that the civvies care about us gravel err I mean squids…I mean Navy types.”

[You’re not originally Navy……Are you?]

“Nope.”

Walking down the orderly halls of the Imperial Star Destroyer, The Adjudicator, Senior Crewman John ‘Kilroy’ Varl had to admit it but he had a lot of things to get used to.  It had been a just under half a month since he had finished the transfer process into the Star-fighter Corps, and in that time, the former stormtrooper had the same mindset as if he was still in the Army.  To make matters worse, I still can’t get over this space sickness, John thought, doing his best not to vomit in front of his company.  Swallowing the bile that was in his mouth, the recently transferred engineer wondered quietly just how he had gotten himself into this mess.  A few seconds later, after a quick glance behind him, such thoughts quickly subsided.

Pressing onwards to his destination, Varl quietly thanked the universe for its subtle assistance in navigating the inner bowels of the massive Star Destroyer.  Although it wasn’t hard to move around the ship without the use of a map, things were made that much more difficult for him without the constant temptation of racing to the nearest refresher just to give the latest offerings to the porcelain gods.  If there was one thing that Rhyzan-born engineer was thankful for, it was that there were plenty of places where he could alleviate his condition.  As such, the elevators leading to the med-bay happened to be one of those very spots.

“Ahhhh much better….God you wouldn’t believe how much I love these elevators.  They remind me of the ground-side stuff so much.”

[Heh, I’m sure they do. By the way, you never did tell me why we got such a following with us.  Care to explain?]

Yeeaaaah, you really don’t want to know. John thought in frustration, wincing over the fact that his fellow Rhyzan, Holo, who he had entered a more serious relationship with before his transferral and her honorable discharge of service, would never let him hear the end of it.  It was just one of those things that John wished he never had to deal with; especially with how frequent such occurrences happened.  Rubbing his temples the former groundpounder leaned in closer to his civilian counterpart, providing the man with the craziest reply he could come up with.

“Well, you see sir, it involves…..”

---

“Shavit! Sorry bout that Cabbster.  You alright?”

“…”

Damn it Cerv, of all the things to do. Petty officer (2nd Class) Cervidae thought, mentally kicking herself for her sudden lapse of judgement.  Currently the commanding officer of the recently mauled Chlovi squadron, the veteran interceptor pilot had been exhausted after the latest massacre.  Despite this, the de-facto commander felt rather guilty at the moment, even if her run in with her fellow Chlovi member was an accident. 

“Sorry about bumping into you like that.  How’s that arm holding up Cabby?”

“…”

“Good? Bad? Oh god someone get me a nurse?”

Unaware of her comrade’s current inability to speak, the curly haired Lotaithian had been entering a slight state of hysteria due to her relative closeness to the med-bay.  Although she had worked up the courage just to get to where she was, the former crewman was quietly wishing that she didn’t have to be anywhere near her current position.  Due to some, incidents that happened in her past, Cervidae was doing her best not to run back to her room, screaming the entire way.  By the Force, where’s a distraction when you need one?  She thought, hoping that something would shift the focus of her attention immediately.

“And that my good sir is how you surf a tank.”

Wait, what?

As if summoned by mystical powers, Cervidae’s wish for a distraction came to her by one of the oddest sights in her career.  Walking towards the two petty officers and apparently heading towards the med-bay as well, was the newest recruit to the squadron.  Grasped in his hands, was a pair of  Suuri, both of which appeared to have been painted with all the colors of the rainbow.  It was by all appearances, a rather comical site for the 23 year old executive officer.  Hehe, space crab, she thought, completely distracted by the newcomer.  That was until she saw the entourage following her current object of interest; a group which by all means looked like it came straight out of some of the more desperate of male crewmen’s fantasy lands.

“Crewman, care to explain to me why exactly you have a flock of Suuri with you?”

“They followed me home?”

OOC:
WC: 800ish, dunno when I'll be able to post next....also
AAR:  JUst getting members of Chlovi together so that they can all go to the med-bay together... The two veteran members of the squadron get to meet one of the most eccentric additions to the Navy ever before heading to the med-bay Spess Kreb
TRP/LCpl Kilroy/3SQD/1PLT/1COM/1BAT/1RGT/VEA/VE/[5.1]/[5.2]/[6.1]/[PT]/[EW1]
[FM]/[SCRW] [Kilroy]/[C-2]/S:50 "Chlovi" W:101 "Blade"/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A|2FL|SC|VEN|VE|
[This message has been edited by Kilroy (edited February 21, 2013 9:48:58 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Kilroy (edited February 21, 2013 11:28:04 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Kilroy (edited February 21, 2013 11:28:16 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Kilroy (edited February 27, 2013 11:58:25 AM)]
Sturmwind
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Sturmwind
 
[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 11:16:56 PM    View the profile of Sturmwind 
OOC:
Strill


A few moments had passed since Grent told his story when, once again, another new pilot strolled on by and, rather awkwardly, stopped and went over to the squadron. “Excuse me,” He asked Joamer. “But do you know where Strill Squadron is?”

“That would be us. I am Chief Warrant Officer Joamer Reistlin.” He replied. The recruit snapped to attention and saluted sharply. “I am Leading Crewman Niklas Friedmann, reporting in as was instructed, Herr Reistlin.”

“Just call me Joamer, ok kid?”

“Jah, Joamer.”

Several of the other members of the squadron chuckled, whispering about the preverbal stick up Niklas’ ass. He simply  glanced over at them and took a seat next to Grent, who was a bit warmer to the other new addition. Friedmann gently massaged his neck before cracking out a small flask of alcohol, downing a quick gulp before turning his attention back to the others who were seated around him. “So, I understand we are a squadron who fights not only in the skies, but also on land? Good. I could never make it in the army. I love space too much, and yet I still enjoy having my jackboots on the ground, some good terra firma every now and again.” Grent let out his own little chuckle, making Niklas turn his head and look quizzically. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Well, the fact that you’ve joined probably the least by-the-books squadron in the navy.”

“…Scheisse.” He swore under his breath. A loud audible sigh came from him as he ran his hand through his hair. “Oh well. No turning back, once I’ve set my course.”

Thatcher “Thicket” Morrowind then spoke up. “Hey, newbie! Why don’t you tell us all about ya? Us three have already gone, and I think it’s only fair that you get to go next after Grent there.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I hail from Kuat. My family earned a pretty good living with their own private business. I, in order to make better use of myself, worked at a mechanic’s shop fixing old speeders when I was 13. Having never really seen or known anything about the workings of them, it was a surprise to all how quickly I could pick up all the information I needed to know how to fix them. I was nicknamed “Sturmwind”, or “Whirlwind”, due to my ability to learn how to fix anything without any outside help, including books and instructions. When I was 18, I fixed up this old space ship, first time doing so. It was not as hard as I thought, having already a really good idea how speeders work. I fixed her up, and the merchant who owned it offered me a job, working as a traveling mechanic, helping out not only with his ship, but any other ships we would come in contact with that would need repairs, as well as teaching me how to pilot a ship. I took Gorld up on his offer, and by my 21st birthday, I was piloting that ship all by myself across the galaxy. As well as all this, he taught me how to fight in hand-to-hand combat a little, and that when in doubt, follow orders.”

“So how did you get that scar?” Thicket spoke up. “It’s not really anything I wanna talk about.” Sturmwind quickly replied.

“Come on man. I’m sure that whatever embarrassing accident you made is alright to tell us. I promise not to laugh a lot.”

Niklas’s hand tightened into a fist, knuckles turning white. “It’s not something to laugh about. All I’m saying is that I got cut by some thug once. Gorld dropped me earlier this year at a recruitment station, and I joined the Vast Empire. Nothing more to say.”

“But why did he drop you off?”

“I figured it was time to do something new, to leave behind some… things I would rather forget. Look, I think I’ve said enough, jah? “

Thatcher shrugged and didn’t pursue him any further. The Kuat crewman let his hand fall to the side, brushing against the wrench he kept on his belt. It was a rather large wrench, one that was good for fixing ships. He had it ever since he was on Gorld’s ship, and it never left his side. Now, when the memories of what happened on Bespin came back, the feeling of cool steel made him relaxed. “So, which one of you fräuleins is next, eh?”


OOC:
WC: 774
AAR: Niklas "Sturmwind" Friedmann joins up with his squadron and, like Grent, gets to tell his story even though he didn't have a straw. He rather dislikes Thatcher  at the start, and hopes that he won't be bothered about his scar again.
FM/LCRW/Sturmwind/Iron /S: 58th "Strill"|W: 101st "Blade"|ISD-II  Adjudicator |TF:B|2FL|SFC|VEN|VE
Cabby
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 21, 2013 11:26:11 PM    View the profile of Cabby 
Sebastian “Ferret” Raidro held fast as he shot through simulated space. The absence of stars was almost unnerving, just a black abyss, all consuming. His bones rattled beneath his skin and sweat slid down the back of his neck. Ferret let out an involuntary shiver and goose bumps raised on his light skin. His warm blue eyes skidded across the landscape in front of him, searching for a light, an outline, anything to indicate someone else in the deep space. Ferret could sense someone near: the feeling of spiders on your skin, telling you someone is watching. But he couldn’t quite place where it was coming from. That was he couldn’t until a sudden harsh beeping filled the space around him. Ferret’s eyes darted to his sensor screen and then jerked up just in time to roll out of the way. An enemy TIE dropped from the air above him expectantly and he was taken by surprise. Ferret accelerated, but the other fighter was quicker than he, and intercepted his path. Ferret dived below the other craft and evaded the blasts sent towards him. Ferret’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. Flying was the one thing that took away stress, as stressful as it was. Ferret turned his fighter around to face the oncoming TIE and they shot towards each other like bullets. He dogged the lasers sent towards him, and locked onto his own target, sending his own lasers towards the other. Ferret hit his mark, and the simulation faded away around him and the starless space was replaced with a quietly buzzing screen.

    Ferret pulled his lanky body from the cockpit of the simulator and brushed back his dark bangs. He straightened up and leaned back, grunting in relief at the satisfying sequence of cracks. He had just spent a good hour and a half in the simulator, running the flight over and over again. Ferret liked to use every available option, try every angle and see which worked the best. Ferret knew this didn’t work in actual battle; he wasn’t a green pilot after all. But it did make him feel safer to know all the possibilities, it called him down, took away a very small part of his continuous anxiety. Ferret suffered from severe anxiety and anything that helped lesson it he clung to. The young man flipped the switch of the simulator and he could hear it power down, the buzzing of electronics vanished from the air around him and the room fell silent save for the distant sound of clicking heels and a counting voice. He knew the words to belong to Elijah Garris. Elijah, also known as Quick Fire was the closest thing Ferret had ever had to a real friend. The crushing weight of his anxiety switched on his fight or flight instinct when faced with a new being… and he always seemed to choose flight. It took Ferret half a year to have a real conversation with the man, who had been his wingmate in a past Squadron. Eli was painfully polite, and Ferret had an inkling that that would be a contributing factor that he put up with the other man long enough to gain his trust.

    Ferret knew that Eli was waiting for him: the skittish pilot didn’t like to travel the halls alone, it was far too stressful. Ferret knew he shouldn’t keep Eli waiting for much longer, so he walked quickly over to where his things were stored, his long legs carrying him in a few strides. Ferret was quite tall and quite lanky… ferret like, one might say. Ferret brushed his bangs back again, this time catching them under a bandana. He removed his training clothed, now damp with sweat, from both the simulator as well as an earlier work out. The gangling man pulled a fresh top over his bare chest and laced us boots up again. He would shower later tonight when there was less chance he’d run into anyone. With one last scan to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, Ferret shoved his clothing into a bag which he slung over his shoulder before making his way to were Eli sat, counting people as they walked by.

    The white haired man spotted Ferret immediately and pushed himself into a standing position and strode towards him. “Did you take your meds?” he asked once they were face to face, Ferret stood two inches taller than his counterpart. Ferret stuffed his hand into the deep pockets of his pants, and removed it with a small bottle of pills. Flipping the lid, he shook two small white tablets into his palm and threw them into his open mouth before returning the bottle to its previse home. Eli nodded his approval and began walking towards their next destination. Ferret matched his strides easily. 

    Ferret broke the silence: “How was your sim?” his warm blue eyes glanced towards his friend. Despite his thin appearance Ferret’s voice was rough and deep. His words seemed to rumble from his chest when he spoke. He had been told that it made people listen to what he had to say; though he preferred to stay quiet… public speaking was not something on his to-do list. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, by the way. I ran the sim about 20 times to get it perfect,” Ferret chuckled as he stuck his hands into his pockets and his fingers played with the crumpled edge of a picture that showed a younger Sebastian with a speckled ferret curled around his neck. The ferret was named Gurdy, and other than Eli he was the pilot’s only friend. Ferret had saved the little creatures life and after days of begging Ferret’s parents let him keep the pet. Gurdy was an easy topic to bring up, something stress free he could talk about. And because of this and the amount of conversation that they actually, Eli admitted to believing Sebastian’s real name was Ferret for a good half a year. The thought made Ferret chuckle again as they rounded a corner, heading to meet their new squad together.

OOC:
wc: 1,020

AAR: an intro for a Chlovi NPC named Sebastian “Ferret” Raidro. A young pilot who suffers from extreme anxiety. But in his youth he discovered that his anxiety was lessened when he flew. He practices daily to destress and normally goes with his close and only friend Elijah "Quick Fire" Garris. And now that Ferret is done with his simulations the two new Chlovi members are off to find the rest of their crew.

Cervidae and I plotted these two to death and beyond and it is fabulous.
FM/PO2 Cabby/Cobalt 7/ S:50 "Chlovi"/ W:101 "Blade"/ISD 'Adjudicator' TF:A/2FLT/SC/VEN/VE
Serpent
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Serpent
 
[VE-NAVY] Lieutenant
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 22, 2013 9:30:18 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:
VENI NPC Post


Tilsec Prime grew large in the viewport of the Nightdancer as Ensign Grey steered the ship gently towards the thin line separating the planet’s day and night.  Their plan was to arrive just after dusk, and it seemed that the experienced VENI agent had once again timed the execution of said plan to perfection.

Agent Strings watched from the back, as Grey sat alone in the cockpit.  She had barely spoken to anyone, and slept only a little in the day-long flight to the Imperial Dominion’s capital planet.  He was curious about her, though not in the way that some of his other companions were.  No, to the Zelosian manipulator, people like Ensign Grey were a fascination, yet also irksome.  Strings lived to push the buttons of other people, but with her... no, he could not see a way.

Manipulation started with what people wanted, and he had no idea what someone like Ensign Grey desired.  Hence the intrigue, and the frustration.

With the Sensor Mask engaged they slipped easily past the orbiting planetary defences, though Strings could feel the tension rise among his comrades as they passed a Golan Defence Platform that could vaporise their small shuttle in a single blast.  Down through the atmosphere they went, heading for a location just outside the capital city, on the edge of a thick forest.

In darkness, running engines as silent as possible, the Nightdancer lowered into a deep crater, a hundred meters down and into excellent cover from any passing aerial patrols.  Grey worked the controls like a master, and with only the slightest bump the craft landed on the irregular rocky floor.

“Let’s go people!” Barked Grey, rising from her pilot’s chair and moving into the main cabin.  “Grim and Grin, take point!”

If the Brothers Grim had issue with the Ensign’s curt demeanour, they did not voice it, and proceeded out of the shuttle at her instruction.  Strings brought up the rear, guarded by the fearsome Agent QuaD.  The Zelosian was not sure if the big man was there to guard him or watch him, but he was glad for the protection.  Despite his arrogant bravado, Strings was under no illusions about how tough he was.  He was on this mission to talk, not fight.

The others went first, and by the time Strings had poked his head out of the shuttle entrance ramp, Grey and the Brothers were training their weapons on a dark-skinned human in jet black combat gear.  With a stern look the lead agent ordered the duo to lower their arms, but both still looked uncomfortable.

“Welcome to Tilsec Prime, ma’am,” The man was saying to Grey.

“Agent Blade,” Said the Ensign, looking the man over.  “Your tattoos speak volumes that words do not.”

“And words are as important as life and as free as the air,” Said the other.

The two nodded, the meeting phrase having been recited to their mutual satisfaction.  Only then did the Brothers Grim actually relax a little, though Strings noted that both men still looked ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

Blade mumbled something into a headset, and a moment later a second figure emerged from the cover of some nearby rocks.  “There you are, Hades,” Said Grey at once, as she yet again had to signal for the Brothers Grim to stand down.  “It seems we are all assembled.”

“All save one,” Said Blade suddenly, “I have another contact coming here to meet us.”

Grey’s eyes narrowed in displeasure at the news.  “Go on,” Was all she said.

“I have arranged to meet a representative from the Resistance a short distance away,” Said Blade.  “We will have time to hide your ship under camouflage netting before he arrives.”

“I do not want anyone too close to this ship, Blade,” Said Grey firmly, her voice stern.  “This is a needlessly dangerous move on your part.”

Hades was nodding in concurrence with the assessment, but the VENI man-on-the-scene was unapologetic.  “I selected this area because it was easy to move about unseen,” He said, “So did the Resistance.  And the timing had to be so as time is of the essence.”

“Very well,” Conceded the Ensign.  “Just who is he?”

“His name is Lucas Jodd, and he is a high-level employee of one Director Yavala,” Said Blade.

Listening intently, Agent Strings remarked, “Ah!”

“You know this man?” Asked Grey, turning to regard the Zelosian.

The political expert nodded.  “Director Yavala is the head of the Yavala Consortium, a major industrial company of the Imperial Dominion, correct?” He asked rhetorically in Blade’s direction.

The other agent nodded.  “Word is that Yavala is one of the three big players in the Resistance, along with Premier Donnel Zaqarian and the activist and philosopher Mottl Barristan,” Said Blade.  “However, I have yet to meet any of them directly.”

Ensign Grey nodded, having made herself familiar with the situation.  She knew the latter two names well enough, but Yavala seemed to have passed her by.  She ordered the rest of the team to unload and deploy the camo-netting and conceal the Nightdancer, but pulled Blade and Strings aside.

“Tell me all you know about Director Yavala before his representative arrives,” She ordered.

“Yavala helped forge the Imperial Dominion’s economy,” Said Blade.  “His vast business empire helped make the new state economically viable, and to say he is heavily invested in this region, and Tilsec Prime, is an understatement.”

“And that’s our way in,” Said Strings confidently.  “If Yavala is in with the Resistance then he clearly believes (as most observers do) that the ID is beaten.  When the Dominion falls, a lot of his factories and businesses will be trashed in the invasions and battles across the ID worlds.”

“He wants to protect his investments,” Mused Grey.

“Exactly,” Replied the Zelosian, his green eyes sparkling.  “However, if the Resistance were to topple Governor-General Karstok from within, the invasion of the Dominion central worlds can be avoided.”

“I see what you are saying,” Said Grey.  “I propose that we use Yavala.  Tell him that the VE will invade unless the Dominion surrenders, and then sweeten the deal by offering him the chance to expand his business into the Vast Empire when these worlds are absorbed by us.”

“Exactly what I was about to suggest,” Said Strings.

“Yavala is influential with the Resistance,” Interjected Blade, “He represents a lot of the businesses of this region.  But he is often at odds with Mottl Barristan, who represents the workers of the Dominion.”

“Won’t matter,” Said Strings.  “Premier Zaqarian is the most influential voice of all, as he has the backing of the politicians and even some military leaders.  We only need him and Yavala to control the bulk of the Resistance, and the others will fall in line.”

“So then what does Zaqarian want?” Asked Grey.

Strings shrugged.  “I won’t know till I meet him,” He admitted.  “However, I expect it will be the same as Yavala.  He will want to protect what he has, and know that, when the Vast Empire takes over, he will have a chance at getting more.”

Grey accepted this as a good plan.  She finished her discussions with the two men and they rejoined the others just as they had completed hiding the shuttle.

Lifting his infra-red binoculars to the horizon, it was Hades who then observed someone approaching.  “I believe our contact - Lucas Jodd – is here.”

“Places everyone,” Said Grey, ready to meet the man but wary of a trap.

From here the game was about to get most interesting.

OOC:
1264 words.  A bit of a talky/politics one this, but I want to set up the Resistance quickly and clearly.

After Action Report:  The VENI team from the shuttle Nightdancer have united with Agents Hades and Blade on Tilsec Prime.  Blade has arranged a meeting with a local representative of the Resistance, and Grey is now planning how to win the Resistance to the VE’s side.

The Contact: Lucas Jodd, works for Director Yavala
Director Yavala: A major figure in the ID’s business world.  One of the Resistance’s Big Three leaders.
Mottl Barristan: Philosopher and activist, friend to the common worker, one of the Resistance’s Big Three leaders.
Premier Donnel Zaqarian: Political leader of Tilsec Prime, one of the Resistance’s Big Three leaders.

The bulk of the Resistance against Governor-General Karstok is split among those three men.  Barristan and Yavala are often on opposite sides, and Zaqarian (arguably the most powerful of the three) balances the two.

VENI wish to side with Yavala (by offering him the chance to do business in the Vast Empire), and then win over Zaqarian (possibly by offering him the chance for political advancement with the VE).  They would then have the support of two-thirds of the Resistance.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
Avalar
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Avalar
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 22, 2013 6:23:41 PM    View the profile of Avalar 
If there were words to describe Strill Squadron, Makenna wasn’t sure exactly what those words might have been. Crazy? Different? Misunderstood? As each member began to speak, she realized exactly how diverse they were. They had rogues and soldiers. People who were calm and others who were ecstatic. The emotions that hung over the people sitting at the table were thick, bonds, both positive and negative, already forming as first impressions were made. Makenna looked at the few she already knew she had strong connections with: Thatcher, Tik, and Joamer. Though her connection to Tik was not a positive one in the least, there was still a heavy bit of friction between them. Then there was her friendship with Thatcher which seemed entirely natural, probably because of some similarities in lifestyle.

Then there was their SC. He was more or less quiet, speaking only every once in a while. Of course, she knew that there was a lot behind this man. More than he would ever be willing to tell. The fact that he didn’t say anything about the salute that Sturm gave him was a bit surprising as well. Maybe it had been a lapse in thought, soaking in each person’s personal history.

She had only known the man for maybe a couple hours, but she already knew, without him saying a word, that he despised saluting.

Once the two new recruits had showed up and spoken their stories, it was time to look back at the straws. There existed a moment of silence as everyone compared. Makenna was not hesitant when she saw she was next. Instead she sat back and stared at the men and women around her purposefully.

Skeptical. She saw the doubt in the eyes of some of them still. Even with the two knife displays, she knew that the other members wouldn’t be convinced that Joamer’s decision to make her FL was a good one until she was in the cockpit with them. That was fine. Respect was earned and not given, and though it had been a while since she was on the bottom, she would return to the top of the ladder in due time. For now, they would just have to trust that she wasn’t some hotshot who couldn’t deliver.

“I was born on Bonadan. I’m sure some of you have heard of it before,” she began, “I lived a normal life in a normal family, but that wasn’t meant to last. My parents worked for some corporate overlords and when I came of age to work, I was forced into it. It’s not in my nature to have my decisions always made for me, so I began to rebel in my own little ways, thinking it’d go unnoticed. But it didn’t. My mother was killed because of my actions, and I was taken as a slave for the rest of my life.”

It had been a while since Makenna had thought back on her family. She missed them terribly. There had even been times when she had been close to getting a chance to go back and meet them, but she never did. If she returned to Bonadan, there would be consequences, possibly more deaths, and she would not subject her family to that.

“Of course, that was obviously not my fate,” she continued, “I was lucky enough that pirates came to Bonadan to steal. They took me and a few others as hostages, and unlike some pirates who would just kill us off, we were actually given a choice. Either we joined them or we would be left on some planet somewhere to fend for ourselves. I chose the life of a pirate then, not because I wanted to masquerade as a criminal all my life, but because I was given a choice. And it was a choice to live as I wanted whether it was partially dictated or not. It was more freedom than I had had in a long time.”

Across from ‘Kenna, Thatcher flinched in his chair. He was intrigued by the story Makenna was telling, but he couldn’t help but distract himself a bit. Instead of focusing on the story, he cast his eyes at the members of Strill around him. Some of them seemed bored, so he made faces at them when they met his eyes. Thicket continued to do so until Makenna met his eyes and gave him a hard look. Then he smiled innocently, palming a glass of some clear liquid and drinking it. Slowly Makenna continued, shaking her head subtly so that no one but Thicket would notice her response to his obvious antics.

“I had a good life with them. We were successful as pirates and the people I had come to know became the most loyal of friends that I could probably ever have. No one left anyone behind, and we always honored those who ended up left behind,” she gave Joamer a knowing glance and straightened her posture a bit as she remembered the people she would have died for, “But there came a time when we had become too confident in our abilities. We had always been a smaller band, but we had grown, and word came from the top that for the first time in a while we would all be gathering together and raiding a planet with high security. I will never forget that day. What seemed like a perfect plan turned straight to hell. They had been anticipating us because we had a moment of oversight, and they made sure we were properly stuck on the ground before splitting up our groups and taking us out one by one. A friend... a sister of mine died that day so that I could live. And I did escape, only to come to the knowledge that everyone I knew and loved had died. My best friend was gone. The woman that had become my sister was gone. Everyone I had ever talked to, fought beside, all gone. For all I know, some could be alive, but with no way to contact them, I had to assume they were dead in order to move on,” She looked up and noticed that Thatcher was staring off into space, probably not listening anymore. He seemed to be thinking of something else entirely.

But what she didn’t know was that he was listening, and it took all he had in him to stay calm and look normal. The story had hit his heart, but he wasn’t about to show it.

“In the end, I had no where to go, so, I came here. You could say the deaths were a sobering experience for me, and I want nothing more than to fight for something, and live on in the stead of those who died that day,” and in fact her story seemed to weigh down on those around her. It was a change of pace from the lighter notes of the stories before hers. And now, the squadron seemed to flinch a bit, hesitating as silence fell at the obvious end of the story.

Except, one member spoke up, and it was surprisingly not Thatcher, “What’s your callsign?” Makenna blinked a bit in surprise, looking around to see a woman who didn’t seem quite like a woman.

“Avalar.”

“What does that mean? What’s an ‘Avalar’?”

“Well my middle name is Avalon. I told them to use that, but they butchered it...” ‘Kenna trailed off, suddenly finding Joamer’s eyes capturing hers. His look was very cold, and she felt a bit of a chill. It was as if he knew there was something else there. Something she wasn’t saying. And it was that look that made Makenna begin to speak before she could catch herself, “Though that’s not the only reason I have this callsign.”

Once the words were out, she couldn’t take them back. She steeled herself against the emotions that welled up. Her fingers unconsciously trailed to the chain around her neck, “There was once a woman who was a part of the VEN. She was the SC of a squadron called Regents. Her name was Vanity Orlaya Morukuv, but her callsign was Avalar. She had left the VEN at one point but she never told me why. Though she came as a hardened and broken woman, she became like a sister to me. She’s also the woman who took a shot instead of me... dying in my place and letting me live when I didn’t deserve it. That is why I took her callsign. I wanted her memory to live on, no matter how many rumors were probably spread by me taking that name. Her reputation here was not exactly the best, but I don’t care. She deserves some honor where it wasn’t granted.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. What is an Avalar?” the strange woman didn’t seem to have heard any of the story at all. Instead she seemed more annoyed that Makenna had missed the entire point of her question and instead told a heart wrenching mini story.

“Hell if I know,” ‘Kenna said, now annoyed.

“Isn’t it some word from another language?” Thatcher surprisingly put in, “I think it’s a verb. Means to ‘endorse’ or ‘guarantee’. I think anyway... Maybe our drunk can tell us? He seems like someone who’d like strange words-”

“Anyway,” ‘Kenna cut in before another petty argument could break out, “I don’t know if that’s what it means or doesn’t mean. I just know that that was her callsign. Whatever her reasoning is, well she’s not exactly around to tell me anymore,” with that, Makenna signaled for the questions to stop by giving a very cold look to the woman and Thatcher, her hands playing with the blade that was still not sheathed. The woman only returned a more harsh look while Thatcher gave his usual toothy grin that kept ‘Kenna from staying annoyed for too long.

No. There were no words that could ever properly describe Strill Squadron. This was the thought Makenna had as she sat back and the attention shifted from her to the next person.

OOC:
WC: 1,689

AAR: After Gurlanin and Sturmwind share their stories, Makenna shares hers. The story itself is somewhat depressing and it almost ends on a somber note before Nadya chimes in asking about Makenna's callsign. Makenna shares why her callsign is what it is and diffuses an argument Thatcher attempts to start with Tik.
SXO | PO2 Avalar | Iron 2 | S:58 Strill | W:101 Blade | ISD Adjudicator | TF:A | 2Flt | VEN | VE

[SoA]  [MC1]  [CC:W]
Serpent
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 22, 2013 9:44:37 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail was quickly learning that escorting a two-meter-plus Wookiee through a Star Destroyer designed by and for humans was bad for his nerves.  Admittedly, the Admiral had served on ships designed for smaller races and knew when to duck going through certain areas of the Brilliant, but the thought that at any time he wouldn’t made Zail worry.

As the tour of his vessel went on, however, he was able to put his fears more and more to rest.  Vice-Admiral Krazanr seemed to be enjoying himself, meeting the crew and complementing them on their fine work.  Zail hoped that this reflected well on himself, regardless of how selfish such thoughts were, and was glad that nothing had gone wrong.

In fact, the only trouble so far had been his sarcastic droid Raseven, but that problem had been nipped in the bud an hour ago.  Early in the tour they happened to chance across a young crewman from the Mid Rim who understood Shyriiwook perfectly.  Serpent had been delighted and had instantly dismissed his troublesome droid.  The young man – Leading Crewman Jrath – had followed them around and done a superb job translating for the Admiral.

Zail made a mental note to promote Jrath to Senior Crewman before the day was done.

Eventually the tour of the ship concluded, and as Serpent, the Admiral and Jrath walked down one of the central corridors, Zail said, “I trust you found everything satisfactory, sir?”

The Wookiee nodded, and said via the translating crewman, “[You run a tight ship, Captain.  I see that Drac trained you well.]”

Pherik felt a smile come to his lips at that.  “Thank you, Admiral.  Captain Mihawk is a superb officer, and between him and Captain Trykon I have been blessed with good mentors.”

“[And I have been blessed with good captains,]” Said Krazanr.  “[Now, I believe you said that you were holding a few prisoners?]”

“That’s right,” Confirmed Serpent.  “Captives taken during the Battle of the Bloodmoon.  You wanted to meet them before you depart?” He asked, knowing that very soon the Second Fleet would be leaving for another battle, and that the Naval Commander in Chief was needed back at Abrae before then.

“[Just a quick visit if you would, Captain,]” Said the Vice-Admiral.  “[I would like to look these men in the eyes.]”

“Of course, sir,” Said Zail, “But alas I am needed on the bridge to help prepare the ship for departure.  I shall send my First Officer, Vagen Eosel, to escort you to the holding cells.”

“[I understand, Captain,]” Said Krazanr via Jrath, and dismissed the CO of the Brilliant.

-----

The Kel Dor officer hurried down the hallway, having just been relieved of the bridge by Captain Zail and dispatched to tend to the Admiral.  Vagen Eosel was a by-the-book sort of man, and took his duties as First Officer quite seriously.  His advancement under his Alderaanian superior had been swift, rising quickly from XO of a patrol ship to a Star Destroyer.  However, Eosel had yet to deal with anyone from High Command, and he was nervous about being alone with the NCC.

As he headed towards the brig, he saw a familiar face up ahead.  Dev Mishima, the should-be Com Chief, was going the same way.  As punishment, Zail had temporarily demoted Dev to pushing a hover-cart of food around the ship.  It was currently time for his delivery of stale meals to the prisoners.

“Mishima,” Said Eosel as he caught up to the human.

Dev cocked an eyebrow in surprise.  “Eosel?  Shouldn’t you and the Captain be off kissing the Admiral’s furry ass right about now?”

The XO felt his temper rise at the other’s insulting words.  “Quiet Mishima!  The Admiral is visiting the prisoners, and I am headed there now.  If you enter while he is there, you will keep your fraking tongue inside your mouth.  Am I understood?”

“My lips are sealed,” Said Dev with a cheeky grin.

Eosel hoped he meant it.

-----

Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh stood in his cell.  He had been held here for days since his capture, watching and studying his enemies, waiting for a chance to escape.  He had already regurgitated the small explosive he had constructed and swallowed, and was now just waiting for someone to pay him a visit before he used it and made a break for freedom.

Suddenly, through the shimmering energy field that held him incarcerated, Heysh noticed some activity.  The security officer’s post at the end of the corridor had some new faces.  Firstly was as he expected, the talkative idiot with the food delivery, but at the same time a group of others arrived.  First, he saw that Kel Dor who had greeted him on the hangar deck on the day he was captured.  And with him was a... Wookiee?

Heysh listened carefully as a third man, the Wookiee’s translator, spoke to the prison overseer and his two guards.  From the conversation he could deduce that the Admiral wanted to speak to the prisoners!

Sval could not believe it!  That hairball was an Admiral!  No, wait, he might have already known that.  His fellow pilots on the Reactionary had sometimes made fun of the Vast Empire for having aliens in its High Command, and one even swore that a Wookiee was their Naval Commander in Chief.  This had to be him!

Heysh thought quickly.  There were four other Dominion prisoners in this section but he had to draw the visitors his way.  “Hey!  Is that a Wookiee slave you have there?” He called loudly.  “Perhaps you Vast Empire types aren’t all that bad!”

Immediately the Admiral’s head whipped around in his direction.  As the food delivery man began to unload of his hover-sled of blandness, the Wookiee and his party, escorted by both prison guards, approached Sval’s cell.

The hairy beast reached the force field and growled menacingly.  “Admiral Krazanr wishes to speak with you,” Said the human translator in the Wookiee’s shadow.

“I don’t speak to animals,” Said Heysh with disdain.  “I am no housewife and this is no cat.”

None of the VE fools appreciated his comment.  “Step away from the field,” Said the Kel Dor first officer menacingly.

The Imperial Dominion pilot complied, stepping back as the shield lowered and the five beings stepped into his cell.  The two Stormtrooper guards had their rifles raised towards him, but Heysh noticed that the other three were unarmed.

They were talking at him, but he was not listening.  Instead he merely stepped back into the cell, drawing the group closer and closer.

Now!

-----

Dev Mishima unloaded the food and kept his mouth shut.  He handed the meals to the warden as he always did, but the other man did not want to chat either.  Both were too busy straining their ears to hear what the Admiral would say (and do!) to the racist prisoner in Cell 4.

And so, with listening so intently, the sound of the blast came as quite the shock.

It was a bang really, more noise than effect, but Dev looked up and towards the main prison corridor in open shock.  “What the...?” He managed, and then everything was a blur.

The warden hit for the alarm quickly as gunfire erupted in the cell.  Sirens blared throughout the section and beyond as the young translator – crewmen Jrash – ran from the cell in fear.  Mishima saw a blaster shot catch the man in the back, dropping him dead, before the Dominion prisoner himself emerged and began firing down the corridor at the warden’s station.

Dev ducked behind the control panel, while the warden did the same.  The other man pulled out a blaster pistol and prepared to return fire.  He popped up from cover and fired off a few shots before ducking down again, while Mishima watched helplessly.

“What the frak is going on?” Demanded Dev over the sounds of laser fire.

“No idea!” Said the prison officer, “But he’s stolen one of the guard’s rifles!  If he’s taken them out and got their kit then...”

And as if on cue, a small metal sphere flew over the desk, and bounced and rolled to a stop nearby.

“Concussion grenade!” Cried the warden, throwing himself clear.

Mishima reacted too, but not fast enough.  There was a flash and then everything went dark.

-----

When he came to just a minute later, the alarm was still blaring.  A figure was standing over him, shaking him.

“Mishima?  Mishima talk to me!”

“Captain?” Dev managed to say, forcing his eyes to focus.  As his vision (and sense) came back, he was able to make out other Stormtroopers entering the room and checking the area.

“What happened here?” Zail demanded.

“Prisoner... flash... he must have swiped a gun from a guard in the chaos...”

Serpent rose and helped the Petty Officer to his feet.  Mishima swayed a little but managed to stay upright as he surveyed the brig area.  All five cells were open, and the Captain’s Stormtrooper escorts were heading towards the cell where it all began.

“Sir!” Called one of them, “In here!”

Dev and Zail ran towards the room, and surveyed with it horror.  The two prison guards lay dead, along with Crewman Jrash.  And also lying on the floor was Brilliant’s XO.

“Vagen!” Cried Pherik in horror, dropping his First Officer’s side.  “Vagen!”

Mishima also dropped down next to the Kel Dor, and was the first to notice the savage blaster wound in the man’s side.

“Sorry, sir...” Rasped Eosel through his breath mask.  His chest was rising and falling slowly, and his body was limp in the Captain’s arms.  “They... got the Admiral...”

Dev glanced around, realising suddenly that there was a body missing.  He wondered at first just how anyone would swipe a Wookiee, but then he noticed something else: his hover-sled was gone!

“Don’t worry about that,” Said Zail soothingly.  “We’re going to get you to the med-bay, and Dr Praan will get you fixed up and...”

“Afraid...” Rasped Eosel, “That I must... refuse that order, sir...”

Dev noticed the tears welling in his Captain’s eyes, and felt similar tears of his own.  “Please, Vagen,” Said the Com Chief, “Please be okay!”

“Mr... Mishima...” Said the Kel Dor, shifting his head slightly to look at him.  “Please... stop being a frakwit... and try to be... a good officer...”

“I will!” Promised Dev, now openly weeping.  “You have my word!”

Eosel nodded at that.  Turning back to his Captain he said, “You made me, sir... First Officer of a Star Destroyer...” He coughed.  “Never thought I’d rise so high...”

“You deserved it!” Said Serpent through the tears.  “That and so much so much more, my friend!”

“First Officer... Vagen Eosel... I liked the sound of that so much... thank you....”

And then he was dead, and a part of Pherik Zail and Dev Mishima died too.

OOC:
1817 words.  Oh yeah, here it goes!  Time for the DEATH to begin!

After Action Report:  The Imperial Dominion infiltration expert and pilot, Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh, has escaped.  With a surprise explosive, he got the drop on the guards, stole their guns, and broke out.  He has also released four fellow ID pilots, and the five of them have made off with a captive – Vice-Admiral Stormz!  Arriving too late, Serpent and his Com Chief, Dev Mishima, find XO Vagen Eosel wounded in the break out.  He dies before their eyes.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
Joamer
ComNet Member
 
Joamer
 
[VE-ARMY] Sergeant Major
[VE-NAVY] Chief Warrant Officer
 
Post Number:  875
Total Posts:  997
Joined:  Sep 2007
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 23, 2013 3:43:33 AM    View the profile of Joamer 
Slowly twirling the knife between his hands Joamer listened to each of his squadron tell their stories. A few surprised him and others he knew already from reports he had received from a few contacts. He knew the man who called himself Thatcher was lying through his teeth. Xanin was another security risk just waiting to happen though the young man did remind him of someone in his old squad.

Whatever Thatcher’s secret was he knew Makenna was somehow involved. Someone trained as he was could see the obvious signs the man was having a difficult time being around her. He could almost believe it was simple infatuation. However the way he was acting led him to believe it went further into the past. Everyone had their own ghosts haunting them from the past. Unless the man’s ghosts brought the squadron into danger he would leave well enough alone.

Makenna, however, was another matter. He accepted her story for the truth because he knew she would not lie about it. He never believed it was the full truth though. Few people would tell their complete life stories to a group of people you had only recently met. He did not miss the movement of her hand towards her throat though. Something about Vanity Morukuv was kept there.

Bringing his knife up suddenly he stabbed it back into the same spot it had entered before. All conversation at the table ended suddenly as everyone looked over at him. Removing the single black glove on his right wrist he held it palm up so the Black Sun tattoo could be clearly seen. He let everyone get a good look at it before he began his own story.

“Most of you can guess I was born on Corellia, however my exact year few actually know. I was born in forty-two BBY. At an early age I learned about life, how to survive, how to fly. Around my seventeenth name day I was brought into the Black Sun. What I did there is and will remain mostly a secret. However what I can say is I have more experience being a pirate, bounty hunter, and slave trader than all of you.” Joamer leaned back slowly as he let that sink in completely. “So when I choose to teach you should choose to listen. As such, you now have fifteen minutes to be in sim room three in your armor ready to fly.”

The shock of the sudden order after their SC had admitted he was a member of Black Sun threw everyone. No one moved save for Makenna who had already heard the story before and therefore wasn’t phased. She, once again, took her own knife and placed it in the notch that it had been in before. Thatcher, not wanting to be left out, smiled and added his own blade to the table.

“I like the idea of leaving a mark,” he said, making the obvious pun.

“I believe we now have thirteen minutes to muster.” Edge said as he stood up and walked away from the table. The movement resulted in a flood of bodies as Joamer could hear multiple sets of feet beginning to run down the corridor.

Standing up himself he looked at the table for a long moment and saw all three knives. In particular the two knives standing close together. In all his years of being in the army, and the single year he spent as squad leader he had never had an executive officer who did not fight him. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts and they were saying Makenna was the perfect choice. He just had to wait till she was ready for the job. He knew it would not take too long, though, she was already showing signs of stepping up into the position.

Nodding to the bartender he left Lurk sleeping. He knew the man would take care of her while he was gone. Somehow he doubted she would even wake up before they got back and if she did she and the barkeep had some sort of arrangement. He gives her milk and she would not chew his face off. It seemed to work fine for him.

Jogging down the corridor he entered the armory and walked into his squadron in various stages of undress. They had separate sections but for the army trained individuals nothing mattered besides getting into gear as fast as possible. Stepping up to his locker he opened it and let training take over.



Glancing at his chrono he saw the squadron had roughly five minutes before time was up and so far none besides Edge had made it into the sim room. Looking down the corridor he saw Makenna lightly jogging in full armor with Besh flight following behind her. She waved them inside when she saw a hand motion from Joamer. Stepping over to him she waved her squadron inside the room as he waited for a moment before speaking quietly.

“I remember stories of Vanity when I was in the army. Crazy stories the type that someone like me would find interesting. I always wished if we needed air cover she would be leading the flight group. I’m sorry she is gone. I think her and I would of become fast friends.” He said softly as other members of the squadron began filing into the room. Stepping closer he said “Can I see the necklace she gave you?”

Though the fact that he had noticed such a small detail shouldn’t have surprised her, she was surprised anyway, “Yes,” she said quietly, pulling the chain up and over her head. She handed it to him.

Turning the IDchip over slowly in his fingers he nodded to himself. He knew the makings of it. It was almost a twin to the one he wore around his neck. He knew from experience detailed recordings could be stored on it and only accessed if a certain combination was used. The trick was knowing whether it was voice, biometric, or some combination thereof. “Old device. Very rare too. They stopped making these a few years after the end of the Clone Wars. Keep it close. She wanted you to have it for a reason.”

“I know the reason too,” she spoke suddenly, “I was given a name. Though I only have a first name and a guess at a second. Sam. And the other name... I think it started with a J. I never got to hear all of it. Vanity....” but she trailed off unable to finish.

He had to stop himself from simply folding her into his arms. For all her tough outward appearance she was still young and fragile. Even if she was very good at hiding it. He had to remind himself he was her commanding officer and to show that much kindness would ruin her image in front of the squadron. Reaching out one hand he placed it on her shoulder and squeezed gently.  “Sam. She probably means Dunny. He was in Regents with her before she left. His full name is Sam Jack Dunn.”

Makenna’s face froze for a second, “Chlovi’s SC?”

Joamer nodded slowly and said, “The one and the same, former now actually. He was injured during Bloodmoon and is out of action for a while.” He only knew that tidbit because Maroy had sent him a message a short while ago. 

“W-well anyway, we have a sim to run,” ‘Kenna said, breaking off the conversation. She took the ID chip back from Joamer and placed it around her neck, letting it fall back underneath the armor. She had been in Chlovi and she knew that he had been injured pretty severely, but she hadn’t realized exactly how bad it had affected him. If a crazy SC like Dunny was out of action, then the injury was not a joke, and she found herself feeling a bit of sympathy for him that normally she wouldn’t have felt.

Motioning for Makenna to go first he pulled out his datapad and typed a quick message to someone. He knew the IDchip contained a coded message meant only for her and somehow Dunny had either the key or a hint to unlocking it. It would take time but when the time was right his friend would give him the information he needed.

Walking into the sim room he placed his helmet on the countertop and looked at the young woman sitting at the desk. Smiling he tapped his finger on his thigh and said. “Let’s run White Run Five. That’s always an interesting one.”

Shaking her head she began powering up the twelve simulators as the squadron readied themselves. He considered telling everyone what they were in store for but that would take the fun out of the game. Grabbing his helmet he stepped towards the first simulator as his squadron began doing the same.


OOC:
WC-1492. Joamer tells a story about himself. Then he decided a sim mission is in order. I feel sorry for them now.
Joamer Tremaine Reistlin
Chief Warrant Officer, Squadron Commanding Officer
Aurek Flight, Strill Squadron

SCO|CWO Joamer|Iron One|Squadron: The 58th  "Strill"|Wing: 101st "Blade"|ISD-II  Adjudicator |TF:A|2FL|SFC|VEN|VE
[CC:P] [CC:W] [SoV] [LoM] [E]
In memory of Ghost squad, we will never forget.
DeepSix
ComNet Member
 
DeepSix
 
[VE-DJO] Adept
[VE-ICS] Pirate Swabbie
[VE-NAVY] Lt. Commander
 
Post Number:  710
Total Posts:  973
Joined:  Jul 2010
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 23, 2013 4:14:30 AM    View the profile of DeepSix 
We need a new Squadron Commanding Officer for the 50th, Seth read the message again before closing his wrist com device. He had a feeling that may end up being the case given Dunny's injuries as well as the need to reach a properly equipped facility where a prosthetic could be attached and where the man could next learn how to properly make use of it. Like the brilliant - if perhaps misunderstood - Wing Commander that he was, Seth Qorbin was already on top of this situation... as well as a few others too for that matter.

Having discussed a few things with Ensign Grey first, as well as next having made a few changes to his Avenger's loadout, Qorbin still found himself waiting in the Adjudicator's hangar bay. He casually smoked whilst seated on a larger crate - the other mechanics and technicians not bothering to tell him to put the cig out or even better, to just get the frak out and stop getting in their way.

Once more the man checked his wrist device, this time around only checking the built-in chrono. Any minute now, the man concluded and took another drag. His expectations were not betrayed as six or seven minutes later a larger shuttle swooped in from outside and proceeded to land in the middle of the hangar.

Techs and droids immediately surrounded it - checking if outer systems were good and whether the ship was in as good a condition as it was expected to be. A couple of minutes of running around and poking about were enough for the techs to give the shuttle's pilot the green light, the man on the other end of the cockpit raising a thumb in response and next lowering the ramp.

Recycled air mingled with a different sort of recycled air as the smaller ship became pressurized and from the hold in the back a few figures stepped out. All save one were wearing the standard VE uniform. The only exception was a Human male instead donning a full flight suit - the man even holding his helmet in his left hand.

A loud whistle drew everyone's attention - both new arrivals as well as existing grease monkeys - to Seth Qorbin, the source of said whistle. Ignoring the strange looks he was receiving the man waved for the newly arrived group to approach. No matter how strange the sight of the smoking fellow was, or how much stranger his nonverbal request for everyone to approach seemed to be as far as most of the new fellows were concerned - they all eventually approached, some taking the lead whilst the others merely followed along so as not to feel left out.

From even such a small reaction however Seth could still draw some conclusions and first impressions. He could tell who was most likely leadership material and who was instead just good at following orders. It was by no means perfect, nor did the man had any intention of sticking to his first time impressions either. That said he had no reason to discard them either...

"Welcome to the Adjudicator gentlemen", Seth greeted the small group when the latter was close enough to hear him. "Also welcome to my Blade Wing", Qorbin continued - knowing full well that adding a "my" in that sentence may have come a bit off, but at the same time also knowing that using it there would make his own position pretty much obvious to all that have gathered before him.

He was right too as some of the pilots realized as much immediately and raised their hands to salute. Some of the other pilots looked flustered for a moment before likewise deciding to salute, whilst the rest remained calm and collected - their hands not even twitching an attempt to get up. Their reactions brought a smile to Qorbin's face but before doing anything else he returned a brief salute of his own.

"Name's Seth Qorbin, callsign DeepSix. I won't bore you with lengthy speeches, lie to you by promising fame or glory or generally get in your way provided you adhere to two simple rules whilst you're a part of this wing. First, fly well or get booted. Second, do not - UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES - force me to handle more paperwork on account of your actions, whether in the cockpit or outside it. Two simple rules... follow them and we'll get along swell. Break them... and we'll have a problem. Before you ask, you do not want us to have a problem - trust me."

The looks of the freshly arrived pilots varied and Seth could detect hints of confusion, bemusement, annoyance and a whole lot other emotions thrown in the mix. "Well that would be all I suppose. I've already informed your squadrons of your arrival and expect commanders, XOs or flight leaders to come pick you all up momentarily. With two exceptions you are all as such dismissed", Seth announced and once more found himself forced to return a salute.

The man next named the two exceptions - the fellow in the flight suit, which would end up filling in the empty Vornskr position as well as the only Non-Human that got flown in the same shuttle, a mean looking Trandoshan.

The first fellow Seth intended to properly greet himself, as the squadron's CO. The latter the man also stopped because he needed to first discuss a few things regarding the squadron he would end up taking over - Chlovi.

Seth considered promoting someone from within the squadron but considering the squadron itself was still fairly new and green, he reconsidered after giving the matter some more thought. The fighting ahead still had a fairly large chance of turning sour and if that was indeed to be the case then the banged up pilots in Chlovi would require both experience and discipline to even have a chance of making it out in hopefully a better shape than they would find themselves heading on in.

Besides, there was something about the mysterious fighters that attacked Chlovi that caught Seth's attention. Like everyone else he too learned that the ID squadron was called the Saints. Like everyone else he too learned of a few of their past exploits. Like everyone else he too was impressed with the way they handled themselves in battle. Unlike almost everyone else however Qorbin did not hate the enemy pilots however. Rather he admired them from a professional standpoint, their skills and tactics having proven themselves topnotch. There was something to be learned from these pilots - of this Seth was pretty much certain...

These things, as well as a few others, would need to first be discussed - if only just briefly - with the alien that he had chosen to replace Sam Dunn. More information would be provided during various briefings in the coming days, but for now at least a short intro would be required...

OOC:
WC: 1165
AAR: Your beloved WC greets the final SFC transfers in a somewhat more casual manner than expected. Of note here is the unnamed, unranked Trandoshan which will end up taking over as Chlovi CO. The reason he's blank is because I want to give you Chlovi people the chance to depict him any way you want. Just keep in mind that he's supposedly experienced and that his task is to ensure the squadron is disciplined enough to properly continue functioning. Other than that feel free to either make him lovable or hateable...
WC/LCDR DeepSix/Golden One/S:38th Vornskr/W:101st Blade/ISD-II Adjudicator/TF:A/2Flt/SC/VEN/VE [=*TG*=] [=*VIM*=]

Consultant/LCDR DeepSix/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

TRN/AD DeepSix/DJO/Training Sect/VEDJ
Gurlanin
ComNet Novice
 
Gurlanin
 
[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman
 
Post Number:  43
Total Posts:  757
Joined:  Dec 2011
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 23, 2013 5:43:56 AM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Simulators? thought Grent, as he rose from the table, Again? I thought I'd seen enough at the academy! The young pilot wondered what their mysterious CO had in store for them this time. If it was anything to do with ground attacks, though, Grent had it covered. He had recently passed his Ground Attack ancillary skill, which was not a simulation. Based in the infamous 'trench', it had been described as one of the toughest training exercises the Navy had to offer. If Grent could survive the trench, he was confident that he could survive anything Joamer threw at him.

As he got up from the table, he saw the knives protruding out from it. He contemplated adding his own to the mix, but he, too, had noticed that there were things unsaid. When you were an informant for most of your life, you tend to pick up on details. The necklace that Avalar wore was one such thing. Grent had caught a glimpse of the chain as the woman had moved.

Grent didn't think more on it, however, as he was distracted by a sudden arrival: a rather pungent odour that could only, possibly, belong to a certain animal. Sure enough, as he stepped through the door with the rest of his squadron, he found a certain strill waiting for him. It was Tracyn, his pet strill, and best friend in the universe. He doted on the animal, and received fierce loyalty and affection in return. Such was the nature of the animal.

Call sign Gurlanin made his way to the locker room, Tracyn following closely behind, and started donning his flight suit. Quick and easy to put on: boots off, one leg in, other leg in, pull up, arms in, zip up. The thing that took the time for him, was the helmet. Not the putting it on, but the memories that the T-visor of the helmet brought back. Grent was Mandalorian through and through. A T-visor made him feel at home and more comfortable. He had gain permission to wear the helmet in lieu of the regular flight helmet, through he would much prefer to wear the entire set of Katarn armour. But alas, the cockpit was not big enough, and Grent wouldn't be able to fly properly with his second skin on.

Grent had left huge sections of his life story out. Parts he kept buried deep. Reasons why a proud Mandalorian would join a fighter squadron, rather than be on the ground in heavy armour, as was expected. Reasons why his parents were not part of any Aliit. Reasons why Grent had not mentioned Iaened, his Gurlanin best friend, any further than he did. The time would come when he would reveal the answers to these questions, but not for a while. He didn't know his squadron, and didn't really trust them. It was his nature. He did, however, trust that they were all good pilots, and that they would have his back, just like he would have theirs.

He turned the helmet in his hands over, as he followed the rest of Besh flight to the simulators. He noticed Makenna getting called over, and dropped behind the door, feigning that he was tying his boot laces. Grent wasn't overly proud of what he was doing, but he was incredibly curious, and eaves dropping was the best way to slake his thirst for knowledge. He did not notice the young, light purple skinned Twi'lek from Aurek flight crouch down next to him, and whisper in his ear.

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop." She said, softly.

Grent jumped, and clutched his heart in mild panic. He'd been so engrossed in listening to the conversation on the other side of the door, that the rest of the world had faded. He glanced up and down at the woman, recognising her from the table. She had been sat opposite him, and kept very quiet throughout the proceedings, save for a couple of times during his story where she had looked at him with ... pity?

"I was tying my laces. Anything I may or may not of heard was purely coincidental." Grent said, smiling.
"You stopped tying your laces two minutes ago, Grent. Come on. Those two need their privacy." Said the young woman, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "And I would hate to see you demoted back to Crewman."
Grent smiled in thanks, "I didn't get your name. You know mine."
"Yvaine “Starlight” Thorne," the Twi'lek said quietly.
"Pleasure to meet you, Yvaine," Grent said, extending his hand, and indicating the strill that had kept quiet throughout, "And this is Tracyn."

Yvaine shook Grent's hand, and then bent down to scratch Tracyn's head. As she did, Grent found himself admiring her. She seemed elegant, yet very much to herself. He slowly realised that his story must have touched her somehow, for the Twi'lek to break her own imposed silence. Before anymore could be said, however, Makenna and Joamer walked back in. The two flight members split off immediately, heading to their designated pods, but catching each others eyes on the way. Yes. She was touched, somehow.

Grent put on his helmet, and blinked twice quickly at the flashing light in the corner. Instantaneously, his face was bathed in read outs of every kind, some showing errors, as they were designed to link up the the rest of the suit. Grent synced it with the cockpit systems, as the simulator hummed to life. The technical readout on the screen in front of him showed that the system was loading a simulation called "White Run Five". Grent had never heard of it, and again found himself wondering what Joamer had in store for him, thoughts of Yvaine slowly moving themselves to the back of his mind.

OOC:
WC: 973
AAR: Grent notices that Makenna is hiding something, and goes to get changed, picking up his strill, Tracyn, on the way. He reminisces on the fact that he, too, didn't share everything. He then tries to eavesdrop on Joamer and Avalar's conversation, before he is interrupted by Yvaine, a Twi'lek from Aurek flight. After, they both head to their sims, gaining eye contact, before getting in.
Leading Crewman Grent "Gurlanin" Notimo, 58th (Strill) Squadron

FM | LCRW Gurlanin | Iron Eight | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

{GrAt}

Retreat ....... Hell! We just got here!
Trykon
ComNet Marshal
 
Trykon
 
[VE-DJO] Adept
[VE-NAVY] Captain
 
Post Number:  2442
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 23, 2013 4:55:23 PM    View the profile of Trykon 
Sleep had never felt so good.  Wyl Trykon awoke to full consciousness quickly, but not uncomfortably.  It was as if his body and brain, thankful that he had at last allowed them a few hours to rest, were eager to show their appreciation by getting right back to work.  The air in the captain’s berth of the Adjudicator tasted cool and almost sweet on Trykon’s tongue, as he clambered out of bed and slapped the comm unit on the wall.

“Mr. Marr,” he called out, knowing his eager and efficient batman would be waiting outside, “bring in the readiness reports, please.”

“Aye sir,” came the reply, and Trykon started to get dressed.

The handsome junior crewman came in and started to lay out datapads on Trykon’s desk.

“What’s pressing?” Trykon called over from the other side of the large suite of rooms.

Jak Marr had learned to anticipate that question from the Second Fleet’s commander, so he was ready with his report.  “We’re actually in pretty good shape today, sir.  Commander Krieg reports from Abrae that the final logistical shipments are with their target ships.  Captain Zail of the Brilliant reports the Naval Commander in Chief made a surprise visit to his ship, to personally bestow the Admiral’s Own honorific.  And you wanted me to remind you that you’ve spoken with all of the squadrons from Blade Wing except for Strill.”

Strill, Trykon thought to himself with a frown, as he pulled on his duty uniform’s jacket.  What to do about Strill.  Marr’s opening statement – that the Adjudicator and the Second Fleet were in good shape – sounded accurate.  With the last supply ships docked at their final destinations, the personnel and matériel needed to continue the push against the Imperial Dominion was all where it needed to be.  After just a few more hours of work, the Fleet would be ready to invade the Sollamens Asteroids.  And even though Trykon hadn’t anticipated Admiral Krazanr’s unannounced visit to Serpent’s ship, he decided it was ultimately a good thing: a booster for morale and an eloquent symbol of what made the Vast Empire different from the Imperial Dominion.  Something about the Admiral’s visit niggled at the back of Trykon’s mind, though – a sensation of proto-worry – but he dismissed the almost-concern.  He had a bigger priority: dealing with Strill Squadron.

Trykon was trying something unprecedented in the history of the Vast Empire’s Navy, with Strill Squadron: he had formed a squadron of starfighter pilots cross-trained as commandos.  There were any number of scenarios in which such a unit would be useful – the New Republic had proven as much with their very public Rogue Squadron and their very secret Wraith Squadron – but change did not come easily to an institution like the Imperial Navy.  So, like his New Republic counterparts, Trykon had only been able to marshal support for his “pet project” with his superiors by agreeing to form the hybrid squadron exclusively from the Navy's washouts, troublemakers, and screw-ups.

The problem was, those sorts of pilots tended to get into trouble, in or out of the cockpit, and so far Strill was living up to that stereotype.  Discipline was lax as the pilots of Still sauntered through Adjudicator’s corridors, and the squadron’s performance in combat hadn’t been overly impressive during the Battle of Bloodmoon.  Some of the other members of the Naval High Command were just looking for an excuse to end this “wasteful, ill-advised exercise in futility,” and unless Strill turned things around at the Sollamens, thereby giving Trykon some ammunition in the NHC-level debates, it looked like the experiment would end in failure.

But Trykon believed in the pilot/commando concept, and he still had faith in the beings he’d assigned to the 58th Vast Imperial Starfighter Squadron.  He wasn’t ready to give up the fight yet.  He just had to get into the heads of the pilots of Strill, somehow… get them to understand the stakes of the coming mission, for the Navy but also for their personal careers.

Trykon sighed, as he realized he had no idea how to motivate the diverse group.  “Very well, Mr. Marr,” he said, suddenly wishing he could go back to sleep.  “Where are the merry marauding misfits, now?”

Marr consulted his personal datapad for a moment.  “Chief Warrant Officer Reistlin has reserved the simulators for an exercise.  Strill is due to start in… a quarter of an hour.”

Trykon froze.  “An exercise, huh?” he murmured, thinking.  “Which one?”

Again, Marr checked.  “Something called ‘White Run Five,’ sir.”

Trykon’s characteristic frown twisted up into a mischievous grin.  “Really?” he asked rhetorically, before beginning to strip off his uniform.

“Sir?” Marr asked uncertainly.

“Get my flight suit, Jak,” Trykon said, still grinning.  “I think I know how I’m going to get through to the 58th Vast Imperial Starfighter Squadron.”

“With a costume change?” Marr said, only half-audibly.

Trykon chuckled, and shook his head.  “No, Mr. Marr.  I'm going to get through to them by speaking the only language they all seem to understand.  I'm going to fly OpFor against them in the sim, and I'm going to shoot them all down personally.”

Jak Marr regarded his Captain with a blank look for a moment, and then shook his head.  “Whatever you say, sir.  Must be a starfighter pilot thing...”  And he left to get the flight suit and helmet.

OOC:
893 words.

AAR: After finally getting in a nap, Trykon is briefed on the situation.  Second Fleet is almost ready to head out, and the NCC is visiting the Brilliant.  But the most important task left for Trykon is to finish his motivational speaking tour through Blade Wing, by speaking to the last squadron of the group: Strill.  (He had previously visited Chlovi, Jexxel, and the others, before his nap).  When he learns the 58th is about to fly a tough sim run, Trykon decides to make the exercise even more difficult for the underachieving squadron... by flying against them personally during the exercise.  His goal is to shock them, shame them, or really motivate them in any way possible, so they perform better at the coming battle of the Sollamens than they did during the Battle of Bloodmoon.  The outcome of the war is at stake, but so is the very concept of Strill, which means all of their careers hang in the balance, too.

NB: The IC storyline calls Strill "underachieving" and "misfits."  Obviously, that's a story point, and doesn't apply OOC. 
CNW/CPT Wyl "Trick" Trykon/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE

[SoA][SoV][BWC][NSM][E][NAR][HNS][DSM][SWC][1NS][VC:B][LoM][VC:S][NC][GWC][VC:G][CoB][CC:3][2NS][LSM][VC:E][MSM]
(=*AE*=)(=*SAE*=)(=*TG*=)(=*SCFE*=)(=*FOCE*=)

TRN/AD Trykon/DJO/VEDJ
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 24, 2013 3:05:25 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh shot another Vast Empire crewman as he came around the corner, his aim precise and lethal.  The rifle he had taken from the Stormtrooper guard felt familiar in his hand, and he was glad that he was fighting an Imperial faction with familiar weapons.  He had no idea how he’d cope if this was a Republic ship and he was looting weird Mon Cal guns from the fallen.

Following in Heysh’s wake were the four other pilots he had rescued from the cells.  All were Dominion pilots like him, though only one was from the his carrier, the Reactionary, and even then a different squadron.  Sval did not know them, did not care about them, but he also knew that five could succeed where one would not.

“Keep up!” He barked over his shoulder as he pressed on.  They had downed half a dozen of the Brilliant’s crew since breaking free and taken an array of weapons from them.  All his people were now armed enough to back him up, though only Heysh and three others were in a position to fire.  The fifth member of their group needed both hands and a lot of effort to push the hover-sled.

“Let someone else push this thing!” Protested the sled man, gesturing to the unconscious Wookiee sprawled on top of it.

Heysh spun around, his rifle aimed at the man’s head.  “You push it.  I need everyone else with weapons ready.”

“But why me?” Protested the pilot.

“Because I said so,” Snarled Sval, stamping his authority on the man.  “Now, come on.  We have to reach the hangar bay before the crew get organised!”

They picked up the pace, but one of the other pilots asked, “How are we going to take a shuttle?  Doesn’t this ship have tractor beams?”

Heysh smiled as he recalled his infiltration training.  “Leave that to me!”

-----

Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail was numb.  Vagen Eosel, the only man to have ever served as his First Officer, was dead.  There was much more going on, killers loose on his ship and the Naval Commander in Chief abducted, but as he stared at the lifeless corpse in his arms he found himself unable to think of anything save the loss of his XO.

“Sir!” Pressed a Stormtrooper at his side.  “Captain, we need orders!”

Across from Eosel’s corpse, Dev Mishima was also stunned into uncharacteristic silence, but somehow he was able to focus and recover quicker than his superior.  “Corporal,” He told the Stormtrooper, wiping away his own tears over the XO’s death, “Call in every spare solider from this deck!  Pursue the escaped prisoners immediately!”

The Stormtrooper seemed to move his head between Mishima and Zail, as if deciding which he should be listening to.  In the end he went with the Com Chief in the face of his Captain’s continued silence.

“Yes, sir!” Said the trooper after a pause.

“And set weapons to stun!” Added Dev quickly.  “That way if you hit the Admiral it won’t make a fraking difference!”

The Stormtrooper saluted and then turned and ran off, calling other soldiers to his side as he went.  As they departed, Mishima turned to Zail.  “Come on, Captain, let’s get you out of here.”  So saying he took Serpent by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet.

Zail did not protest, but his eyes remained firmly locked on Vagen’s body until they had left the room and were out of sight.

-----

Heysh and his teamed stormed the secondary launch bay, using surprise to maximum advantage as they charged in and fired at techs.  This chamber, forwards of the main hangar and a lot smaller, was ideal for their needs.  Lightly staffed, with several shuttles to choose from, Sval was delighted by his good fortune.

Fierce fighting was all around him as Heysh ran towards the cover of a nearby ship.  Snapping off shots with his rifle, he caught one of the deck crew in the leg as the man tried to return fire with a small side-arm.  Behind him three of his fellow Dominion escapees exchanged fire with a duo of Stormtroopers who happened to be on site.  Sval watched the white-armoured soldiers die, but knew that it was only a matter of time before a legion of them caught with his people and descended on the bay.

Suddenly, fire from the far side of the bay heralded the arrival of another couple of Brilliant crewman.  Heysh ducked back behind the landing struts of the shuttle he was nearby, but he wasn’t the target.  The two technicians were firing at his fellows, and he saw one go down.

Sval fired a few times, dropping both of the attackers.  The bay was secure, but he had lost one of his ‘team’.  He doubted he would lose any sleep over it.

“Leave him!” He said to the others as they rushed to the fallen pilot.  The others looked from Heysh to the downed man, and then did just that.  They were Imperial Dominion men after all, and practical to a fault.  “Now, we need to secure one of these shuttles...” Mused the self-appointed leader.  “Ah!  That Lambda over there will suffice!  Get the Wookiee on board and run the pre-flight sequence.”

The remaining escapees hurried to comply, but Heysh did not board the shuttle with them.  He made instead for one of the other transports in the bay, running inside quickly and quickly hotwiring its self-destruct sequence.  Again, his familiarity with Imperial technology and designs was a big assist.

As he emerged, he saw a squad of Stormtroopers bursting into the bay.  When they saw him they advanced at once, opening fire.  Sval did not waste time firing back, and made a sprint for the other shuttle where his team were getting ready to leave.

Narrowly avoiding some hits, he darted up the ramp and on board.  “Get us out of here, now!”

“But what about the tractor...” Began one of the pilots.

“GO!” Bellowed Heysh, and the man executed his takeoff under a hail of Stormtrooper fire.

The Lambda gently rose off the deck, unfolding it wings as it did so.  Heedless of the insignificant small arms being fired at it, the pilot guided the shuttle out of the bay.

“Hold here!” Ordered Sval, currently at the nav computer and calculating the jump to the Sollamens Asteroid field.  “Do not leave the mouth of the bay until I say so!”

“What?” Asked one of the others, confused.

“I said hold!” He ordered, and then mentally tracked the countdown to self destruct he had left on the other shuttle.

-----

On the bridge of the Brilliant, Second Officer Farish Quinn tried to keep cool.  The command crew were still at their posts, carrying out their duties, but since word came in of a prisoner breakout things had been tense.  The next thing he knew, Captain Zail had left him in command and headed off to the brig, and now there were reports of fighting in the secondary launch bay.

A sudden shudder in the deck beneath him caught his attention, and though he could not hear it, Quinn instantly recognised an explosion.  “Report!”

“Major explosion in the secondary launch bay!” Said one of the bridge officers.  “Several of the Stormtroopers that are in there are dead.  The rest are reporting what they know.”

“And?” Prompted the Second Officer.

“Unknown!  They think that the prisoners were stealing a shuttle that then self-destructed.”

“They think?” He echoed.  “We could have a dead Admiral on our hands!  Tell them not to think, tell them to find out!”

The next few minutes were long and tense for Farish, as reports tumbled in.  Yes, a shuttle had blown up, but had it taken the other shuttle with it?  His people were still checking the debris to see if it was of one ship or two, but parts of the bay had collapsed and were afire, confusing the issue.  Had the prisoners managed to escape with a shuttle or not?  And if so, where was it?

“Are you sure no shuttles launched during the blast?” He pressed the Sensor Chief.

“I’m honestly not sure, sir.  The blast threw off the sensors in that section of the ship.  All I can say is that, if a second shuttle launched, we would have spotted it on external sensors by now.”

Quinn was confused and frustrated and also angry.  Where was the Captain?  Shouldn’t he be here?

And then it happened.  “Sir!  Reading a shuttle on external sensors!”

“What?  Where?” Demanded the Second Officer.

“It’s on the hull!” Replied the Chief.  “They must have landed on our underside and powered down there before our sensors sorted themselves out!  We are only seeing them now as they power up again!”

“Bring tractor beams to bear...” Began Farish, but it was too late.  A split second after detatching from the hull, the Lambda accelerated to hyperspace and was gone.  They had clearly made the calculations while Quinn and his people were still distracted by the mess in the launch bay.

The Second Officer sighed, watching as the escaped prisoners made off with the Naval Commander and Chief.

“Find the Captain,” He said.  “Now!”

OOC:
1539 words.  And the stage is set for the ‘rescue Stormz’ subplot of the coming battle!

After Action Report:  The five captured Imperial Dominion pilots, led by Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh, escape from the Brilliant.  They have stolen a shuttle under cover of blowing one up, and jumped to Sollamens with Vice-Admiral Stormz as their prisoner!  Serpent, however, is too devastated by the murder of his XO, Vagen Eosel, to deal with this.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
DeepSix
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DeepSix
 
[VE-DJO] Adept
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 24, 2013 4:10:34 PM    View the profile of DeepSix 
OOC:
VENI NPC post

Hmm... one target... five agents... three local representatives... The math was still tricky at this point - as agent QuaD quickly deduced for himself. The man could only guess that VENI had already tried dealing with the target in the past. The fact that the governor was still around meant that such attempts ended in failure. Given his personal experience in such matters, chances were good the ID leader did not take any risks as far as his personal safety was concerned. But then again there were always breaches to be found if one knew where to look for them...

Now, in regards to the local Resistance agent QuaD did not personally put a lot of hope in their ability to do that which had to be done. This was after all an Imperial world and almost all Imperial worlds were first and foremost ruled through military power. A single rogue general or colonel would've proven far more valuable than ten corporate leaders, politicians or union men. Alas such an individual did not appear to be present on this world, or if he was then he was also smart enough to keep his true intentions hidden.

Of the three presented choices that QuaD managed to overhear the one who was most likely to help them was the corporate boss. Bribes, equipment and loyalties could and would no doubt be bought with the credits such an individual could fund the Resistance with. Men such as him were also fairly predictable as well. Driven by greed and following profit - it was easy to read their next moves.

Assuming the politician also followed a stereotype then odds were he was instead interested in power - gaining more and at all costs maintaining the amount he already possessed. Ambition often changed such men into veritable monsters, capable of horrendous deeds always performed in the shadows, far away from the spotlights they otherwise enjoyed basking in.

The fellow that was most likely to pose a problem to them was the final representative of the local rebellion. Men such as him also enjoyed the fame and recognition they received but most of them were driven not by greed, ambition or power but instead by ideals. Ideals such as freedom, liberty, equality and justice. These were however the very sort of ideals that no Imperial faction could fully accept though. By its very nature an empire was expected to set rules and restrictions so that the above could be found... but at the same time also controlled or at the very least carefully monitored.

Xenophobic attitude aside, the truth of the matter was that the Dominion was not all that different than the Vast Empire or any other Remnant factions out there however. There may have been small changes here and there but at its core each faction still followed the same template. If so, what then were the odds of having a people's activist working for them? From the latter's perspective he'd only exchange one leash for another. One possibly smoother and looser but a leash nonetheless...

That though did not mean the man himself couldn't prove useful. Some of the best revolutions in galactic history would never have been possible if it hadn't been for the valiant efforts of various heroes and martyrs that made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of the cause. How many of them truly met their end as described though? How many of them were not instead stabbed in the back or thrown to the wolves so as to buy time or favor?

Always working in the shadows helped QuaD gain a certain insight into the truth of the universe. He knew all too well that history was indeed written by the winners, changing and twisting as much as it needed in order to accommodate a brand new truth. A truth that looked cleaner, prettier and was generally easier to accept by everyone else...

"I believe our contact - Lucas Jodd - is here", a voice interrupted the man's musings. Even before Grey gave the order, agent QuaD was already gone. He would make himself scarce and find a good position from which to cover both the meeting as well as their surroundings as well. Through a sniper's scope the operative watched the lone man approach. He did not appear to be armed, nor did he appear to wear any combat gear either. This was good - chances were he did not expect a confrontation here.

QuaD watched as he parked the spacious looking landspeeder a short distance away, got out of the vehicle and next approached the three remaining figures in the clearing: the dark skinned local agent, Ensign Grey and to her left the green eyed agent Strings. Greetings were exchanged, need to know introductions were made and a small discussion ensued...

~~~~~~~~~~

Eight to nine minutes must've gone by when agent QuaD reemerged from the shadows carrying a limp form over his shoulders. The discussion suddenly came to a halt as the contact jumped back and the other three agents eyed him suspiciously. Ignoring their looks QuaD continued his approach, stopping only when he was a few feet in front of them at which point he unceremoniously dropped the package to the ground. The package was Human, male, in his early thirties, clean shaven and with a still bleeding hole ruining what was left visible of his face.

"He was followed", agent QuaD spoke all of a sudden. As the other three pairs of eyes turned to look at the frightened and disgusted contact, the VENI agent pulled a small gadget from one of his pockets. It looked like a pair of binoculars, only smaller and more hightech. Both him and likely the other agents too would immediately recognize the item as a surveillance tool, capable of recording both images, videos, holos and if close enough even sounds.

Agent Blade was the first to move, only instead of reaching for the device, the man instead reached for the corpse, patting it down and apparently looking for something. "Already checked", QuaD stated simply, showing neither smugness nor annoyance at the other's actions. "He's clean. No id, no other items and no visible marks or tattoos either.

"A pro?" agent Strings interjected. "No... a wannabe", was QuaD's quick assessment. A pro would not have followed his target so close, nor would it have taken the exact route to reach them. A pro would never have sacrificed cover and stealth for a better position without first ensuring such risks were worth taking. From what QuaD saw before squeezing the trigger and headshooting the stranger, the latter not once even suspected there may have been more entities present at that meeting. Which posed the following dilemma-

"Who is he working for then?" Ensign Grey asked rhetorically as she reached out and grabbed the surveillance device. Now the device itself was military grade and as such the first suspect would be the governor himself or at least someone working on his behalf. But then again the stiff's actions or lack thereof seemed to indicate no proper military background, if one at all. The man acted more like law enforcement or some sort of private eye rather than a properly trained scout...

"He carried no comm devices either and his speeder bike only has a standard kit installed. Whoever he was working for doesn't know where he is... or where we are", agent QuaD stated confidently based on the evidence he had found and thus far analyzed.

"We should get moving", Ensign Grey spoke next. This incident aside, they had a meeting they needed to attend, friends they needed to make and pawns needing to be cultivated...

OOC:
WC: 1274
AAR: Some boring stuff that I started writing sometime in the morning but by the time I got back to it I forgot where I was trying to get with it... followed by some "~~~" signifying 8-9 minutes of talking between Blade, Strings, Grey and the newly arrived contact... followed by QuaD breaking the party when he joins them and throws a corpse in their midst. Apparently the contact was being followed, though it's still not clear by whom exactly. Dun, dun, dun, dunnnn~
WC/LCDR DeepSix/Golden One/S:38th Vornskr/W:101st Blade/ISD-II Adjudicator/TF:A/2Flt/SC/VEN/VE [=*TG*=] [=*VIM*=]

Consultant/LCDR DeepSix/PLF Cappadocious/VENA/VEN/VE

TRN/AD DeepSix/DJO/Training Sect/VEDJ
[This message has been edited by DeepSix (edited February 25, 2013 1:36:23 AM)]
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 25, 2013 9:04:40 PM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:
VENI NPC Post


The eight of them crowded into the landspeeder, which sagged noticeably under their combined weight.  The representative from the Resistance, Lucas Jodd, had been visibly surprised (and angered) to see a full seven VENI agents, and had protested loudly about having so many armed individuals going to meet the Resistance’s leaders.  Fortunately, the combined efforts of Agents Strings and Blade had talked him down.

Plus there was the fact that Agent QuaD had killed a man tracking Jodd, a man that the Resistance contact had not even noticed.  If Lucas was having second thoughts about VENI’s ability, that action had gone a long way to dispelling them.

Blade rode up front with Jodd in the landspeeder, for the two men had met several times before.  That left the other agents crammed in the back.  The speeder was a closed top model, so it would not be evident from the air just how many people were inside.  That, however, was not what worried Ensign Grey.

“We are pretty exposed out here,” Noted the lead agent, commenting on the open ground between the forest and city in the distance.

“Let them spot us,” Said Jodd calmly, “This speeder is registered to my boss, Director Yavala.  He holds several hunting licenses and frequents the nearby forests at night, seeking the local feline predators.  Seeing this landspeeder out so late will not unduly concern the city’s TIE patrols.”

Grey seemed to accept this, and went back to gazing out of the window.  Very soon the barren ground gave way to the odd building, which quickly grew in size and frequency as they penetrated the city proper.

Tilsecara, the capital of the planet Tilsec Prime, was a city that reflected the Imperial Dominion as a whole.  That is, it was something small trying to be grand.  Barely two million people lived in the place, and while that number was high, Ensign Grey had seen far grander and more impressive ports, and yet this place was intended to administer a small galactic regime.

The streets were long and precise, buildings coldly grey in their uniformity.  Parts of an older, more rustic city were in evidence, but the more modern constructions were blatantly carried out during the Empire, and Imperial-era monuments were evident on street corners and intersections.  Most of these had been modified to reflect the Dominion, with the statues of the Emperor replaced instead by statues of Governor-General Karstok.  However, the roundel of the Imperial Crest was worked into much of the stone and steel facades, and while some effort had been made to change these to the Dominion’s symbol, the job was only partly done.

Sloppy, thought Grey, but then realised the truth.  Ah no, wait.  This is deliberate.  By leaving the Imperial symbol in places, and slowly amending them to the Dominion logo, the regime can subtly influence people into thinking that this regime is the correct inheritors of Palpatine.  Clever.  She thus amended her estimation of Karstok, raising it appropriately.

They came at last to the district surrounding the main civilian starport, and turned into a compound full of massive shipping containers.  Each of them had the words Yavala Consortium emblazoned on their sides in both aurebesh and High Galactic.  Jodd steered the landspeeder into a warehouse at the centre, and once inside shut off the engine.

“We are here,” He said.  “Now get out.”

Grey nodded slowly, clearly wary, but gestured for her people to comply.  They emerged, weapons close to hand but not yet drawn, inside a large and draughty warehouse, with a high ceiling and yet more Yavala shipping crates stacked up against one wall.  Standing along the opposite wall were about twenty people, mostly male, all human, most of them with guns drawn and trained on the VENI agents.

“Quite the welcome,” Observed Hades.

“Just like everywhere else I go,” Said Blades.

“Orders ma’am?” Asked QuaD, his hands itching for the comfort of his gun.

“Do nothing yet,” Whispered Grey.  Then, in a louder voice, called out to the people.  “Are you the Resistance?  If so we come in peace!”

“We are,” Said a tall man in a suit, stepping forwards.  His dark eyes were piercing, and his manner was regal and composed.  “I am Premier Donnel Zaqarian.”

“Premier,” Said Grey with a bow, “I am Ensign Grey, of Vast Empire Naval Intelligence.  It is a pleasure to meet you.”  She spoke without fear of giving away her true identity.  She detested doing so, of course, but knew that she had to be clear about her allegiance or this meeting would never get started.

“A Grey, of course,” Mused Zaqarian, looking her and her motley team over.  Taken together, Grey, Hades, Blade, Strings, QuaD, Grim and Grin were an odd sight, and the Premier seemed to study each in turn.  His practised politician’s face gave no hint of what he made of what he saw, though.

Grey allowed the man to study them, but as she waited her eyes flitted to the assembled Resistance guards, most of whom wore uniforms with ‘Yavala Consortium security’ written on.  The Ensign knew at once where the Resistance was getting its muscle from then, and VENI’s plan to win over the powerful Director Yavala instantly had even more merit.

Zaqarian noticed her scrutinizing of his people.  “They are here for my protection,” Said the Premier, who clearly liked being in control.  “And they shall keep their guns trained upon you until I am satisfied that you truly are who you say you are.”

Grey looked to the group’s expert negotiator, Agent Strings, who nodded slightly.  “As you wish,” Conceded Grey.  “Now, how exactly should we set about proving that and earning your trust?”

Zaqarian smiled, and gestured to the back of the warehouse, where a door led off into a side office.  “Please, come this way and meet some of my associates.  Kindly select only three of your number to join us, for I am afraid that it is quite a small room.”

Grey winced at the thought of splitting her people up in a potentially dangerous situation, but again she had no choice.

She selected her three, and then they followed the Premier into the office.

OOC:
1035 words.

After Action Report:  Ensign Grey and the rest of her 7-man VENI team have been taken to Tilsecara, the capital city, and to a warehouse of the Yavala Consortium.  There they have met the Resistance, and are now about to begin negotiations with the dangerous Premier Zaqarian.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
[This message has been edited by Serpent (edited February 25, 2013 9:05:14 PM)]
Hades
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Hades
 
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 25, 2013 11:01:07 PM    View the profile of Hades 
Hades had remained silent for most of the trip. He had been VENI's point man, the key to the operation one might say.. but now with agents as skilled as QuaD and Strings in their respective fields, the younger Agent had been relegated to the lesser duties; a part of the background noise that shielded VENI's true intentions. Not that Hades minded; he was content to sit, watch and analyse.. for now. There was more to the self-made orphan than met the eyes of most, maybe even Grey's.. Blade was silent too; he did not say much and when he did, people listened. He was cocky though, even if he had every right to be. QuaD seemed quietly self-assured, almost acting above others on the VENI team. But where QuaD was a silent superiority, Strings was the boastful, arrogant self-assured type.

Most of the team had had enough of the man within ten minutes of meeting him. Suffice to say Strings was not the most popular member of the team. That place was taken by Grey; everyone deferred to her, everyone followed orders given by Grey and nobody questioned without good reason. Hades didn't blame them. Greys were notorious for their ruthlessness.. So when Zaqarian requested Grey only take three men in with her, Hades smiled inwardly. She alone was enough to gut the man and stuff his guts down his throat; she'd not need any of her team for that. If Zaqarian believed these men were here for her protection, he was severely underestimating the VENI officer's operational capabilities.

Ensign Grey chose quickly, her eyes running over the team of mixed agents. "Strings, QuaD and Blade. You're with me." It made sense; the political manipulator, the mad scientist of sorts and the local expert. Hades shrugged the disregard for his own ability off easily. Strangely enough, he liked to be underestimated and overlooked - made for easier hunting. Less responsibility often meant more freedom. "Hades, Grim, Grin; double back and make sure we weren't followed." The three killers together. Of course, all of them were trained and expert killers.. but the only thing Grin and Grim did was kill and maim, Hades being in a similar boat - though he liked to fancy himself a bit more cunning than either of the brothers, even if the smaller one had the intelligent gleam in his eyes.

"Ma'am." Hades acknowledged quietly. Grey nodded, satisfied, and moved into the next room, while the other three cast a final uneasy glare at the resistance security before leaving. The three men walked through the compound, eyes scanning for any sign of foul-play. Yavala Consortium security patrolled the compound, and it seemed everything was in order. Once they got out into the street, however, they would be on their own - liable to capture or death at the hands of Imperial Dominion night-patrols. Hades, Grim and Grin crossed to the other side of the street as they exited the compound, falling into the shadow of a tall warehouse. "We'll cut through here," Hades gestured to the warehouse, "It appears to be deserted."

Grim and Grin, to their credit, did not argue or question, merely nodded. They had slipped into battlefield efficiency mode, a mentality well suited for this mission.. or so Hades hoped. Being the most senior of the three it was only natural that Hades took command. Each of them drew their weapon as they approached the warehouse doors; abandoned or no, there was no reason for the agents to take chances. Grin reached out with a massive hand as they all aimed weapons at the doors, grunting quietly as his huge arms bulged from the effort of hefting the warehouse door open wide enough for the VENI team to slip through.  Hades keyed his visor back into existence and activated the low-light vision mode. He gestured with one finger at Grim, before pointing said finger at the left most edge of the warehouse where a passageway's entrance could be seen. He then gestured at Grin with the same finger, this time pointing down the middle, through the rows of stacked crates and boxes.

Grin and Grim both understood, moving silently in their given directions. Hades moved for the far right-hand side, where there was a matching passageway to the left-hand side. Grim and Grin were out of sight now, and Hades entered the darkened passageway. Blaster raised, the VENI Agent placed down one foot after the other, careful not to trip on anything or kick anything in his boots. He didn't want to make any noise, just in case this warehouse wasn't abandoned. Unbeknownst to Hades, two wide eyes watched his progress nervously. It wasn't until Hades was almost touching him that he saw the man and by then he barely had time to react, raising the butt of his blaster to deflect the knife blow, sending it instead into a nearby wall. The man spun, not waiting for Hades to recover as he came in for a second blow. This time Hades ducked under the wild slash, moving forward in quick succession to slam an armoured shoulder into the man's gut and knock the wind out of him.

This also succeeded in knocking him to the floor, where Hades kicked him once in the ribs with a huge amount of force, before standing on his wrist with the blaster pointed at the man's face. He clicked his comm. once to inform his fellow VENI agents of the happening. They'd be here in a second. Sure enough, Grim came around the corner with his own blaster raised, while Grin played rearguard, scanning for any other movement with his huge support weapon. Turning his exterior speakers off, Hades contacted Grim. "Thoughts?"

Grim studied the man for a moment in the green light of their helmets, "Another amateur. A desperate one, but more likely a lowly criminal paid to do the recon for someone else."

But who? Hades wondered to himself. He did not voice his thoughts, though, simply drew his verpine and put a round through the offending amateur's head. Grim looked at him but did not say anything. "We'll find out soon enough," Hades said, answering the unspoken question. "Our objective is unchanged."

Still, Hades was taking no precautions. He sent two clicks of the comm to Grey, a code for there being a minor problem. Grey would know what it meant; this code was more for informative purposes than getting agents to react to it. It was seven clicks in a row that you oughta' worry about - the code for a major problem. Having contacted Grey, Hades and the other two agents moved toward the back of the warehouse - quicker this time, as they knew now they'd been followed.. or worse, the compound had been under surveillance all along. Either or, someone would be coming.

--- --- ---

Somewhere else on Tilsec Prime, a dark armoured trooper approached his superior. "Sir, we've lost contact with our point-man. The local."

The officer nodded, "It could be nothing.. but then again," He frowned slightly, cold expression still gracing his visage. "The contact was unreliable, we know that. Send one of ours this time; if he fails, we'll know they've caught wind of it and we'll move in."

The trooper saluted, "Aye sir!" He barked sharply before moving off.

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,232

AAR: Grey takes QuaD, Strings and Blade in with her, while Hades, Grim and Grin are assigned to doubling back and checking if they've been followed. They have; another amateur, this one hired by someone onf Tilsec Prime.. Hades informs Grey, but does not believe it anything major.. Yet.

Chief of Naval Training, 50th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | Cobalt 1 | S:50 "Chlovi" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

"When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's superior, make life rue the day it thought it could give Demetrius Aita lemons, do you know who I am?! I'm the man who's going to burn your house down - with the lemons!"
-- Hades

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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Gurlanin
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Gurlanin
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 26, 2013 6:45:24 AM    View the profile of Gurlanin 
Grent did love the simulators. It was a mixture of the childish joy of playing the latest video game, coupled with the knowledge that these sims were worth several million credits. There was also the fact that Grent could pull off stunts that would usually get him killed if he tried them in a real cockpit, and practise them several times over until he could perform them well enough to try in his Interceptor.

Of course, there was nothing compared to actually flying a real TIE/In. Nothing could replicate the G-forces in quite the same way, for a start. That being said, once the simulation started, and the adrenaline kicked in, Grent often found himself forgetting that he wasn't really in space, and was surprised when the [End] appeared on the screen. It was a pleasant surprise - with Grent loosing a wingman or two on most simulations he did, it got quite emotional - but a surprise none the less.

This time it was different, however. For what seemed like the first time since the academy (the bomber simulation didn't count), Grent was flying with real flesh and blood. He had said it a thousand times: no computer would ever be able to think like an organic, and make the same snap decisions that they did. Unless "White Run Five" was super crazy hard, a full squadron of pilots, especially the type of pilots that found their way into Strill squadron, should have no problem beating the computer. That was, of course, unless Joamer had been sneaky enough to get some human pilots for them to fly against. He knew that underhanded tactics like that had been used before, but Joamer wouldn't stoop that low, would he?

Grent settled into his seat. He took off his helmet to take a quick drink, and scratch his ears, knowing that he might well be in for a long haul in here. Outside, he could hear the dull, and muffled, thuds of movement: boots clanking against metal, Tracyn settling himself (Grent knew that strills could change their gender, but he liked to think of his companion as primarily male) into a comfortable position by the simulator door, the unmistakable "attention on deck" as an officer walked into the room, followed by the scuffle of several men and women snapping to attention. Grent thought nothing of it, probably just one of the higher ups coming to see where we are. If only he had known the real reason that this particular officer had come to the simulators.

Tracyn growled gently. The officer was probably walking around the pods. Strills were known to be protective, and he hoped that Tracyn didn't do anything rash. In fact, he hoped that the officer, whoever he was, didn't do anything rash. Grent would put his money on a strill every time in a straight fight. But the growling stopped, and Grent's mild panic subsided. He replaced his helmet, and watched as the simulation loaded. The screen went black, and stars started fading into view. Slowly, the entire image was generated, and the simulation began.

From as far as he could tell, the squadron was doing a routine patrol. It certainly looked that way from his instruments, some of which having checkpoint co-ordinates plugged into them. He looked it of his view port at the other fighters. They were in a standard v-formation, with, presumably, Joamer on point. Grent concentrated on flying straight, and keeping at a constant speed so that he didn't crash into another fighter, or break formation. He knew that Strill were a new squadron, and, again Grent guessed, that Naval High Command would watch some of the footage. If he screwed the pooch, it wouldn't look good for him or his wingmates.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for someone to tell him what was going on. He was itching to blow something up!

OOC:
WC: 657 (short, I know, but there's no action ... yet)

AAR: Grent settles into the pod, and speculates about the difficulty of the mission ahead of them. He hears an officer enter the room, but doesn't know that it is, in fact, Captain Trykon coming to fly against them. Grent's strill, Tracyn, growls at Tryk, and Grent worries about the strill's naturally overprotective nature. But nothing comes of it, and Grent goes back to waiting for the sim to start.
Leading Crewman Grent "Gurlanin" Notimo, 58th (Strill) Squadron

FM | LCRW Gurlanin | Iron Eight | S:58 "Strill" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE

{GrAt}(=TG=){AFM}

Retreat ....... Hell! We just got here!
Hades
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 26, 2013 7:17:14 AM    View the profile of Hades 
The three agents emerged from the warehouse into a back alley, dimly lit by flickering lamps along the small passage. Green eyes scanning back and forth, Hades' gaze catches on a building further down toward where they had originally come from - that is to say, toward the rendezvous point - and he gestures with a short nod; the structure appeared to be a run down office building. It wasn't the nature of the structure that appealed to Hades, but rather the strategic value. It was the tallest building for the surrounding few blocks and held commanding views of both the compound - which sat on the very end of a dead end street - and the approaches thereto. The windows were small enough to conceal surveillance yet big enough to accommodate it. With Hades' and Grim's rifles, combined with the sheer power of Grin's support weapon, they'd be able to pin down any reasonable number of enemies for quite a while.

Grin went first, brandishing his heavy weapon as he slid through the door, deceptively silent for someone of his size. No matter how psychotic you might call the brothers, if you could be sure of anything else it was that they knew how to do their job and do it well. Hades went next, his own blaster raised, followed by Grim with his sniper rifle. The building was dark and again their low light vision modes came in handy. There were elevators, but the agents did not wish to reveal their presence just yet. After all, they'd taken care to dispose the other body - hidden it in a heavy shipping container, thanks to Grin - after Grim had voiced that it might give away their plot, or hint towards it prematurely. Something they did not want in any case, so Hades had agreed. Grim, being the last one in, set up motion detectors on the door frame, hidden so that anyone who tried to sneak up on them would have no idea their cover had been blown. Perimeter defence set up, the team advanced.

Surprisingly, Hades and the brothers got on well - the Ensign wasn't exactly the brightest angel in the galaxy, and he shared a willingness to complete the task at hand with the Grims. Still, he didn't let his guard down - he was not quite the psycho that Grin and Grim both were, nor so dark as Grim. He didn't find it hard to figure out why he'd been called 'Grim' - the family name aside. The trio of silent, deadly agents had reached the stairs by now, the darkness not entirely gone even with their low-light vision modes. Hades gestured to the two agents, pointing upward. Top floor. This time Hades took up the rear, with Grim following his younger yet physically bigger brother closely. Advancing quickly yet cautiously, the VENI sub-team reached the top within minutes, making sure to clear the floor and set up more motion sensors, just in case the one downstairs failed.

The three agents found a room on the corner of the building, one set of windows facing toward the compound while another faced toward the approach. Perfect, Hades thought. Without a word, he motioned toward Grim and began to construct a small platform of crates and desks. Once complete, it provided Grim a vantage point on which he could lie down and steady his aim, while being able to see and aim out of two windows, each facing different ways without actually sticking his barrel out the window which in turn kept his position a secret. Grim pulled an object out of his rucksack - it was a small screen, which was connected to the scope of his rifle. He flicked it on and handed it to Hades, who was given a view of whatever Grim was viewing. Taking position, Grim aimed his rifle down the approach and Hades got the same view on the small screen. Grin and Hades sat with their backs against the window frames, hidden from the street view, waiting until they might be needed.

Hades checked his blaster again, adhering to something he'd been taught - 'check, double check, triple check, and once you've done that; check it again.' It was only when the screen beeped at him that he refocused his twin emerald eyes on the it. Grim had marked targets.. two- no, three of them! Hades frowned. They moved much to precisely to be more amateurs, and were all similarly dressed. Black armoured troopers that seemed familiar.. "Vrail.." Hades whispered when he realised where they were from. He's followed us this far? He had to give Vrail points for persistence.. Grim was keeping an eye on the troops - who were leap-frogging down the approach, staying in the cover of the shadows - and on Hades, who would give the order to engage or the contrary. The young Ensign shook his head subtly; let them get closer, he thought. If they were as well trained as he thought, they'd go for this building. If not.. he'd eliminate them before they could get past it.

Watching them on the screen, Hades saw everything that Grim saw. What he also saw was that the three were heading directly toward the building Hades and the brothers were in. Grim communicated as much to Hades in handsigns. Raising a hand, Hades gestured downward with his palm twice - stay low - before raising an index finger to where his lips would be if he had no helmet on. The message was clear - stay low and stay quiet; they'd eliminate this trio through stealth, without alerting anyone else. The Imperial Dominion scouts disappeared from the screen - they were at the base of the building now. It was shortly thereafter that three soft beeps indicated the motion sensor had been triggered not once but three times. They're inside, Hades mused contentedly. Grim and Grin both knew what this meant, slinking off into the shadows.

Hades also disappeared, slinging his rifle and drawing his Verpine. Just before the brothers had disappeared, he had seen them drawing their own close quarters weapons - a knife for Grim and a large machete for Grin.. in the dark, they'd make nightmarish figures for the scouts to face. These scouts may have suspected that there were enemy agents in the area, but there was no way they'd know how many they were or indeed where exactly they were. Give it time, Hades thought with a small smile, let them report the all clear, then take them. He didn't need to tell this to Grin and Grim. They both knew what they had to do.

Beep, beep, beep.

Let the fun begin.

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,140

AAR: Hades and co. set up in the tallest building for a few blocks around, with a good view of all approaches and easily defensible. Three Imperial Dominion scouts have been allowed to enter the building, though, as Hades and the brothers Grimm lie in wait for the right moment to eliminate them with extreme prejudice.

Chief of Naval Training, 50th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | Cobalt 1 | S:50 "Chlovi" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

"When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's superior, make life rue the day it thought it could give Demetrius Aita lemons, do you know who I am?! I'm the man who's going to burn your house down - with the lemons!"
-- Hades

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited February 26, 2013 7:21:49 AM)]
Cabby
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 12:02:40 AM    View the profile of Cabby 
Fletcher stared hard at the floor, searching for an answer to a question she hadn’t asked. She was beginning to become frustrated with the people around her for not understanding… frustrated with herself for her loss of voice. Fletcher’s face clouded over with a scowl. She was being weak, weak and useless. Like someone who needed to be taken care of…. Like Magda thought a woman should be. Her entire life Fletcher had sworn up and down never to be like her mother and how easily she had slid into the roll was enough to make her physically sick. Even she was diagnosed with cancer Fletcher felt stronger than she did in this very moment. She felt broken, severed from her old self. Guilt had settled in her stomach that had not been there before. All of her life Fletcher had been flippant with her life, reckless and uncaring when it came to whether she lived or died. But her recent experience had opened her eyes to the fact of how delicate life is. It can be snuffed out with the snap of the fingers, just like that, nothing more.  War had always been a distant concept to her, her life dream had never been to fight, and she joined the navy on a whim. But Fletcher now understood the hard reality of war. Many must die for a few to be immortal. Her job was crucial… but at the same time she couldn’t push down the remorse she felt.

  At the sound of feet Fletcher looked up, cupping a hand over her eyes to shield them from the harsh light she was looking into. The woman who had stopped in front of her was Cervidae. Fletcher nearly winced at the use of her given name, and opened her mouth to correct her, only to find an unsurprising absence of words. She pursed her lips together tightly and pushed herself off of the ground, standing at the same height as the bushy haired woman. Fletcher shoved her good hand into her pocket and clenched her fist, the other stayed tight across her breasts. She looked up and was struck with an idea. Fletcher reached forward, taking hold of the data pad and silently asked with her eyes if she could use it. Ceridae let go, though Fletcher could tell it was rather reluctantly. With the data pad in hand, Fletch slid back to the ground and propped it up against her knees so she could type. Cervidea sunk to the ground next to her squad mate and looked over the tanned girl’s shoulder.

//I can’t talk right now… and actually I go by Fletcher //

“Oh, gosh I’m sorry,” Cervidea spluttered.

//No, it’s cool, doesn’t worry about it. I’ve been in pain for the last week, nothing new//

Fletcher watched Cervidea’s brow furrow, and she could nearly feel the woman gearing up for a big apology.
//please don’t worry about it//

  The young dreadlocked woman placed a crooked fingered hand on the other’s arm and squeezed softly. Cervidea’s hand caught her own and held it for a moment before letting go. Fletcher passed the data pad and other gripped it like a life line to her chest. A chuckle slide past her lips and Cervidea glanced over, releasing her grip slightly.

  “So you can make noise?” she asked, and fletcher nodded in response. “But you can’t talk.” Fletcher grunted and turned her head to look at the opposite wall. “Any idea why?” If had her voice there would be 10s of 1000s of things she could have said: PTSD, survivor’s guilt, anything would do… but all she could do was half shrug, taking care not to jostle her injured shoulder. “Oh…” Cervidea copied Fletcher’s movements and turned to stare at a point across the hall.

  They sat in silence for what seemed like eternity. This was the first time that had spoken with her XO and it wasn’t even a real conversation. Fletcher chewed her bottom lip until the coppery taste of blood pooled on her tongue. A voice in the back of her head screamed at her to speak. Speak goddamn it! But the voice was drowned out by that of her mother’s. Fletcher could almost feel the painful tug on her hair as her mother bushed it back into a high pony tail. Back then, Fletcher’s hair had been almost as unruly as Cervidea’s, and it seemed to be a personal insult to Magda. If Fletcher closed her eyes she could see the hateful woman’s face. Fletcher assumed that from pictures of her mother and father, Magda had once been beautiful, but when Fletcher would sit on a stool, in some monstrosity of a dress her mother had chosen, she couldn’t see the beauty in her mother’s face. Only the distaste she felt for her masculine daughter. 7 words rang clear through Fletcher’s mind:  “A woman speaks only when spoken to.”

  The memory made Fletcher clench her fish and she cleared her throat with a small determined cough. “Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me… I’m not normally this quiet,” she muttered. Her voice was cracked from lack of use, but the sound of it made Cervidea start.

“So you can talk!”

  “Guess I can…” the words were small but there none the less.  Talking felt uncomfortable, alien to her. Fletcher had forced herself to speak, and now the words were trying their best to barricade themselves in side. It was border line painful. But she had spoken, and her mother could suck it.  Fletcher was saved from continuing the conversation further by a heavy set of footsteps coming down the hall towards them. Both pilots looked up to investigate the newcomer and neither of them recognized mean-looking trandoshan. As he passed he grunted them, and flicked his claws in the motion that unmistakably said, ‘follow me’.  Fletcher glanced at her squad mate before pushing herself into standing position once again, this time with a little help from the other woman. The turned to the door and beside her she felt Cervidea tense considerably. She could feel discomforted radiating off of her skin in waves. Fletcher placed a reassuring hand on the other’s back and titled her head to the side. 

“It’s nothing… I just don’t like medbays…” Cervidea muttered. Fletcher nodded in understanding, unsure what to do to help the other.

OOC:
wc; 1,065
AAR: just a crap ton of character development really. Fletcher reflects on her mother as well as the guilt she feels for the lives she ends. She feels weak because of her lack of voice.
Cervidea then comes along and they sit, Fletcher writes her messages and then they fall silent. Fletcher then remembers her mother, and how she had always wanted her daughter to be compliant and silent, which Fletcher rejects completely, so she forces herself to speak. It's uncomfortable and thankfully she's saved by the arrival of a mysterious stranger.( Who is this stranger you ask? I haven't a clue. ooooooo ahhhhh. okay i'm going to bed now. )
FM/PO2 Cabby/Cobalt 7/ S:50 "Chlovi"/ W:101 "Blade"/ISD 'Adjudicator' TF:A/2FLT/SC/VEN/VE
Serpent
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Serpent
 
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 12:16:26 AM    View the profile of Serpent 
OOC:
Imperial Dominion NPC Post


The stolen shuttle hurtled through hyperspace, en route to the Sollamens asteroid field.  Inside, four men, formerly prisoners of the Vast Empire, marvelled at their good fortune.  “I can’t believe we made it!” Said one.

Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh, architect of their jailbreak, smiled.  “I never doubted it.  Those VE frakwits are nothing special.  They’ve done so well against the Dominion through a combination of weight of numbers and luck.  That will end soon enough.”

“Hey, the Wookiee is stirring!” Observed one of the other men with concern, looking down at their captive as he began to groan on the deck where they had left him.

“Med-kit!” Barked Heysh, gesturing to the back of the shuttle where the emergency supplies were kept.  “Use a sedative on him!  A strong one.”

They complied, following his orders without question.  Sval had never realised how easy it was to win people over.  All you need do is save their lives and they are yours, he thought.  Now if I could only do that for all of High Command my career would be made...

He dismissed the pointless fantasy, and focused instead on the controls of the shuttle.  The hyperdrive was ticking down to their arrival, and when the display hit ‘0’ he eased back on the controls and reverted their stolen craft to realspace.

They emerged into the Sollamens asteroid field, a billion chunks of rock floating before them.  Some were jagged, some were rounded.  Some were bigger than Star Destroyers and some were as small as a wedgesphere game ball.  Suspicions as to the origin of the field were rife, with everything from colliding planets to arcane Sith superweapons being the cause.  Heysh rarely paid them any attention.

“What phase is it?” Asked one of the other escapees, coming to Sval’s side to look out of the main viewport.  He was referring to the strange environment of Sollamens, where a steady rise and fall of the local star’s energy output created havoc with sensors and sometimes even communications.  The Dominion had found a way around this interference, and could operate even during a high-radiation phase of the pulsar.  However, their captured ship was from the Vast Empire, and had not been adapted to deal with the conditions.

Heysh looked over to the blue pulsar star in the distance, and winced.  “It’s pretty bright...” He observed, and then lowered his eyes to the cockpit display.  “Yeah, radiation spikes, and the sensors are going haywire.  Guess we’re going to have to find the base by sight alone.”

And so saying, he took them into the field.

-----

They came at last to the heart of the asteroid cluster, and there found the Imperial Dominion fleet that had abandoned them at the Bloodmoon to Vast Empire captivity.  The two lynchpins of the armada, a couple of Imperial Star Destroyers, held pride of place at the core of the fleet, with lesser ships spread around.  They hovered in a defensive position around a large asteroid, as big as a Torpedo Sphere, that had been dubbed Gwodd LK Nale.  It was there that the Dominion was constructing their newest base.

“A lot of the fleet survived,” Said the man beside Heysh (whose name he had still not bothered to learn), looking at the capital ships.

“Yes, but look how battered they all are,” Noted Sval.  “Ah!  Incoming hail!”

A moment later, the hologram of Captain Ramius Raizo of the ISD Reactionary appeared before them in the shuttle cockpit.  “Unidentified shuttle!  You are in Dominion space!  Fighters are being sent to...”  The old man frowned, seeing the faces of the men in the cockpit.  “So you escaped?”

“Yes, sir!” Replied Heysh with an arrogant smirk.  “You didn’t think you’d be rid of me that easily, did you?”

“The thought had occurred,” Said Raizo darkly.

“Anyway, sir,” Continued Sval lightly, “I come bearing a gift!  We have captured the Vast Empire’s Naval Commander in Chief!”

There was a long pause before the other answered.  “What?”

Heysh gestured, and the others dragged the sedated Wookiee forward and in to range of the holocamera.  “Here he is!” Declared Sval triumphantly.  “I’d like my medal with a blue ribbon if you don’t mind, Captain!”

Raizo seemed unimpressed.  “I am no more capable of telling one filthy animal from another, Heysh,” He said.  “However, there is someone on Gwodd LK Nale who can.  You are cleared to land there.”

Confusion flickered across Sval’s face, but he did not comment on it.  Instead he simply nodded.  “Yes, sir.  We shall land immediately.”

He angled the shuttle past the nearby Star Destroyers and in towards the asteroid base.  Construction of the facility had only begun a few weeks previous, and it showed.  On the exterior of the asteroid, slaves in spacesuits were adding external communications and sensors towers, while transport ships laden with supplies floated around.

Heysh took them in to the immense landing bay in the asteroid’s side, but as he passed through the atmospheric shield he realised just how much work had gone in to enlarging the natural cavern.  The back of the cave had been tunnelled through to the asteroid’s far side, leaving an elongated landing bay accessible from two ends.  Filling this immense hangar were plenty of TIE Fighters and other craft, and he brought his stolen shuttle in for a landing.

A group of Stormtroopers greeted Sval and his fellows as they descended the boarding ramp, their captive Wookiee spread out on a hover-sled behind them.  Heysh went first, and observed the man leading the Stormtroopers.

He was a man of average height and average build, with a bland face and short, unremarkable haircut.  He had no stubble and no blemishes upon his features.  In fact his face seemed unnaturally smooth, more akin to a child’s simplistic drawing than a real person.  None of this was coincidental, for this man had gone through extensive surgery to remove all distinguishing features, right down to the ridges in his fingers that gave his unique fingerprint.  He was designed to be nobody.

“Colonel Mern, sir!” Said Heysh, snapping to attention.  They had met before, and this was a superior that Sval truly respected.  The Colonel was a high-flying member of IDI, Imperial Dominion Intelligence.  Some even whispered that was in fact its leader.

“Mr Heysh, so good to see you,” Said Mern in a received, non-regional accent.  “Ah, this would be the prisoner.”

“Yes, sir,” Said Sval.

“Excellent,” Said the Colonel, a gleam in his eye.  That gleam was the only emotion the man ever showed, all that he would permit the world to know of his true thoughts or character.  “I shall not insult your intellect by checking that you have the right Wookiee.  Instead we shall get right down the fun part: interrogation!  This way please, gentlemen.”

And so saying Mern turned to walk off into the depths of the asteroid base.  Heysh, his fellow escapees, the Stormtroopers and their prisoner followed in the Intelligence officer’s wake.

-----

On the bridge of the ISD Reactionary, VENI agent Ripheus ‘Nighthunter’ Kane, undercover as Imperial Dominion Petty Officer 1st Class Lyle Nyhun, tried to deal with what he had just heard.  He had listened intently to Captain Raizo’s conversation with the shuttle pilot, and even his well-trained composure was tested by the news.

Could it be true?  Had Vice-Admiral Krazanr really been taken prisoner?  If so he would have to inform Vast Empire Naval Intelligence immediately about where the NCC was being held.  However, with the Sollamens Pulsar currently in a high phase he could not.

As soon as the radiation in the system lowered he would send a secret transmission.  The Vast Empire had to save the Admiral, and fast!

OOC:
1287 words.  And that is the rescue plot truly set up!

After Action Report:  Sval ‘Airlock’ Heysh and his team of escaped prisoners reach the Sollamens asteroid field.  They are told to take their prisoner, Vice-Admiral Stormz, to the Gwodd LK Nale base.  Their they hand their prize over to the bland but competent Colonel Mern of Imperial Dominion Intelligence.
SCAP/LT Pherik “Serpent” Zail / VSD Brilliant /TF:Aurek/2Flt/FC/VEN/VE
[SoA][LoM][NAR][E][CBV][SoV][MiD][1NS][GWC][MC1][VC:E][CC:2][CAR][=*Eng*=][=*BO*=][AO]

"It isn't the killing, you know.  It's the beauty of battles that I love - the choreography and the challenge of executing everything
just right - and the challenge of matching your wits against a capable opponent." - Gilad Pellaeon
Hades
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 2:59:39 AM    View the profile of Hades 
Vorssk 'Krayt' Attragal was not a tall being, not at all. In fact, for his race he was rather short. At 5'9, the Trandoshan was far from the size of the rest of his race, and had been teased as a runt throughout his life. He had been bullied as a hatchling, and laughed at ever since.. but behind his green eyes and hard brown scales, Vorssk was a confident and intelligent being. He had earned the nickname Krayt for his persistent and fiery nature, the spark in his eye giving a hint to others that, despite his size, he was not one you'd want to mess with in any scenario. The Trandoshan Warrant Officer 1st Class exuded efficiency, if nothing else. He was not friendly nor was he kind; he knew how to get the job done right and was called upon only when pure efficiency was needed. Chlovi Squadron, while having survived against the Saints, still had a huge casualty rate - Krayt intended to change that.

He had spoken with the Wing Commander, Seth Qorbin, but only briefly. He did not need to be briefed more than a few words before he knew exactly what he had to do and exactly how he was going to do it. His uniform was standard of the VE; a pilot's uniform tailored for a Trandoshan, but something stuck out. Underneath the Imperial insignia emblazoned on his shoulder was the symbol of the Hsskor Dominion; an ancient Trandoshan organisation, once tantamount to an Empire dedicated to the superiority of the Trandoshan species as a whole purveyance of only the best slavery throughout the galaxy. It was long gone, now, even if people remembered its history. To Trandoshans though, it was a symbol of pride and a patriotic rallying point. Krayt was aware their NCC was a wookiee, something he did not approve of - but wore the insignia nonetheless. DeepSix had personally asked for him as the new Commander of Chlovi, and he doubted he'd be going anywhere for now.

The Vast Empire's Starfighter Corps needed his raw efficiency and untamed fire to whip Chlovi into shape and at least until that was done, the Trandoshan - not averse to slavery himself - was safe in his place. Regardless of personal ambitions or patriotic symbols, Krayt was loyal to the Vast Empire as a whole - he would do his duty here and do it well, as his record suggested. He was cast a few strange looks from crewers who passed him on his way to the MedBay, where he was informed that most if not all of the Chlovi survivors were gathered. He ignored these strange looks; the Trandoshan had long ago learned to give no care as to the thoughts and opinions of others on his personal appearance. He knew who he was and what he was and used that as a form of armour - it would never be used to harm him, not after his childhood.

In addition to being an efficient being, Krayt was a proven ace with fifteen kills in the battle of Abrae alone and more than thirty in his entire career. He was initially recruited for the famed Vornskr squadron - it seemed he'd turned some heads - but when Dunny was no longer available, he was the most suitable replacement for a squadron of green-horns. They had been into battle for their first time and it had almost broken them - their casualty rate showed that much - and now it was up to Krayt to turn them into fighting machines, into the pack hunters that their namesake suggested they were. It did not take Krayt long to reach the medbay; before he knew it his eyes alighted on the sign that labeled it. Two pilots were sitting outside, seemingly exhausted or just lazy. Either way, Krayt did not care.. though they looked familiar as he got closer. Chlovis, he realised. He had read a brief file - this was the XO and one of the flight members. The Trandoshan paused as he came up to their level. Apathetic green eyes flicked from one to the other, before he gestured with his right hand, moving his claw in a 'follow me' gesture.

They would be able to see from his rank that he was their superior, but he doubted they knew exactly who he was. Cervidae knew that she was getting a replacement SCO, so mayhap she had guessed.. but the others would not know. As Krayt entered the Medbay, flanked by the two other Chlovis he saw yet another Chlovi sitting in a chair and another still on the bed. He gave the former Squadron Commander a cursory glance - Dunny was in no state to resume his duties and was far from as experienced as Krayt was. This was his squadron now. He narrowed his reptilian eyes at the one sitting in the seat - he was surprised by the amount of females in one squadron.. Had Dunny intended it this way?

He gestured to the third Chlovi now, another 'follow me' gesture before exiting the medbay promptly. The SXO had a sick look on her face; an aversion to MedBays? There was little the Trandoshan missed - he was used to picking out details.. He needed to be able to pick out these seemingly insignificant details back on Dosha simply to survive. As the quartet of pilots emerged from the Medbay, four more emerged - one from the 'Freshers, holding some sort of crustacean upon which Krayt looked with disdain, two from down the corridor and one which had supposedly been sitting outside the entire time. Cervidae approached him now, sick look fading and colour returning to her face.

"What exactly is the meaning of this, sir?" She took care to add the 'sir' part, lest she suggest disrespect.

"You are Chlovi Squadron, yesss?" The Trandoshan hissed, gaze coolly examining the attractive SXO - or at least, she would be if Krayt liked humans.

"What's left of it," A quiet voice piped up. Krayt's gaze turned to the speaker, a woman who was clutching her shoulder and had an expression of pain almost permanently stuck on her visage. She seemed to shrink away from the attention, and Krayt turned his gaze back to Cervidae after scanning the faces of the pilots.. Green, was all he could think, Green and battered.

"Vorsssk Attragal.. call me Krayt." The short Trandoshan peered up at the tallest of the squadron, before flicking his gaze back to Cervidae. All eyes were on him now - some curious, others confused, others still fearful. "Warrant Offissser Firssst Classss and Chlovi Ssquadron Commander."

Cervidae's eyes widened slightly, but she covered her surprise easily. Other members of the Squadron shifted uneasily; they did not like having Dunny replaced. He did not care; he was there to make sure no more of the Vast Empire's resources were wasted, and that meant keeping as many of them alive and well as possible. That in turn meant instilling discipline and efficiency in the Chlovi Cats.. Looking over the members of his new squadron, the Trandoshan hissed through his teeth. "Come with me."

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,209

AAR: Introducing WO1 Vorssk 'Krayt' Attragal, the new SCO of Chlovi. He is a no nonsense being who is there to do his job, nothing less. His job? Whip Chlovi into shape, make them lose that sort of newbie fear and turn them into the most disciplined squadron in the Navy.

He will not be your friend or even remotely kind. He's reasonable, but his slaver roots lead him to expect obedience from his subordinates.

Vorssk 'Krayt' Attragal is 5'9 with sandy brown scales and green eyes. He is 30 years of age, born on Trandosha to a family of normal Trandoshans. He was bullied as a hatchling due to his size, and has turned that into a hard shell around himself meaning he is very good at taking insults. He's fiery and aggressive most times - in keeping with Trandoshan tradition - but is not easily provoked by insults.

Chlovi: You're all worse for wear, it seems - 'cept maybe Kilroy - so 'Krayt' will be taking you for a briefing before ordering you to get some more rest. After that rest, Chlovi will receive word of the NCC's capture and the mobilisation of the 2nd Fleet. I expect that point to be reached in the next two posts.

Chief of Naval Training, 50th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | Cobalt 1 | S:50 "Chlovi" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

"When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's superior, make life rue the day it thought it could give Demetrius Aita lemons, do you know who I am?! I'm the man who's going to burn your house down - with the lemons!"
-- Hades

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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[This message has been edited by Hades (edited February 27, 2013 3:39:16 AM)]
Dunny
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 7:46:57 AM    View the profile of Dunny 
[[“This------eeker. I chall------to a duel b---ceptor. May th------st pilot win.”]]

Sam Dunn felt one of his eyebrows climb towards the top hatch of his TIE Interceptor’s ball-cockpit at the haughty tone that crackled over the malfunctioning comm unit. Already, a quick glance upwards through the small window-slits in the top hatch as he pulled his joystick backwards and cut his speed showed the dull grey Interceptor already angling for a position behind him. He saw a flash of royal blue along the solar wing-panels, before the nimble craft expertly followed his manoeuvre and disappeared from view.

“Cocky little bugger aint’cha? Righto mate, let’s dance.” Sam Dunn sent in reply as the fingers of his left hand danced on his fighter’s controls, quickly adjusting the power settings to a layout more suited to him. With the jamming active, there was no point powering the sensors or what was left of the comms, so he simply shut them down entirely and shunted the power straight to the Twin Ion Engine that screamed just behind him. The boost of power was like a kick to the rear as the ship’s engine picked up a sudden, adrenaline-pumping burst of speed.

Come and get me now. He silently dared as he threw his control yoke sharply to starboard and at the same time kicked the port-side ion jet that had been retrofitted to his fighter after he’d performed his Advanced Flight Manoeuvres training. He held the angle for a second, as if he was about to perform an upward roll, before sharply pushing the joystick down and kicking the starboard-side Ion Jet, completely reversing both his direction, but also sharply jinking away from the expected climb. As he did so, he diverted some power from his engine to the targeting computer.

“Predict this!” He crowed to himself in victory as his targeting computer lit up and he glanced down at the screen…
…only to find that there was nothing there. Instinctively looking to his port-side, his jaw dropped in sheer surprise as he stared at the durasteel-grey Interceptor that was flying [/i]right beside him[/i]. His mind blanked for a split-second as he counted each of the twelve royal blue pinstripes on each of the two solar panel wings visible to him, before the opposing fighter flashed past him at a respectable fraction of lightspeed. He’d only just missed the slippery bugger!

This was bad. The pilot obviously was flying a very highly tuned Interceptor, and obviously had a very good eye for prediction. Without even thinking, Sam Dunn fired his starboard-side jet with a stamp on the foot-pedal and slammed his control yoke to the same side, dumping every single bit of power his Interceptor had into the engine to pull the tightest turn he possibly could, before stamping his foot on the port-side jet halfway through the turn to tighten it even more. He quickly fed power into the targeting computer and the missile launcher, determined to score a kill…

He got close. Very, very close. His targeting computer read a solid lock, and he slammed his thumb down on the trigger, but in the instant’s delay between the button being pressed and the Concussion Missile actually launching from the M-G2 launcher, a pair of emerald green laser bolts flashed in his direction. Instinct was the only thing that saved him, as his gloved hand snatched the eject trigger and yanked it back hard, faster than he could even blink. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline flooded through his system, and he imagined he could see the emerald bolts approaching.

The first one struck low, and to the port side of his fighter, and this was what saved his life. It flashed down by his feet, and even as his cockpit’s canopy burst open and the ejection seat pushed him from the fighter with terrific force, the armed missile within the launch tube taking the full force of the hit and detonating with a silent roar just as Sam was leaving the cockpit. The battle couldn’t have gone on for any longer than 10 seconds, and already, Sam felt the bitter pang of defeat as he watched Cobalt One explode.

There was nothing he could do but watch the flashing laser blasts and the shimmering ion trails as the four unknown Interceptors tore his Squadron apart, chunk by twisted, bloody chunk. He hadn’t known many of those people for more than a couple of days – and some of them he’d only just met, but each silent explosion stuck him like a slugthrower round to the gut. Each death was because he’d failed to keep his eyes open, to train them properly. Every time someone died, their blood was on his hands. Mercifully, he passed out within a couple of minutes.


Sam Dunn woke up with a start, his chest heaving as he breathed hard, his cold blue eyes darting in their sockets as he glanced around, for some reason suddenly feeling wary and scared. His heart raced in his chest as his gaze took in the privacy curtain around him, keeping him isolated from the rest of the sickbay.

the sickbay…

As he remembered where he was, his heartbeat began to slow, and his breathing began to take up a steadier pace. Then, the rest of the memories rushed into his brain, and he looked down with a soft sigh.

It hadn’t been a dream. It was a memory. The Interceptors, a team he now knew as the 128th Imperial Interceptor Squadron, had torn through the newly minted 50th Vast Imperial Starfighter Squadron. His team had been slaughtered, and he himself had been shot down. Now, he was confined to the medbay with all manner of injuries. The ones on his face, chest and arms were nothing, just superficial damage from the shrapnel of his own ship. The empty space on the medical cot he was lying on where his left leg ought to be was very far from superficial.

That’s right, Sam. It all happened. It happened because you allowed it to happen.  As much as he wanted to deny the fact – as much as he wanted to blame inferior equipment, or insufficient training, or lack of preparation time, it was he whom had called up the reserves, whom had told Wing Command that the 50th was ready to fight, and it was he whom led them so confidently into a trap. No-one else had forced him to, and frankly, he’d been lucky to lose just his leg.

A quick, momentary glance at Tony Vincent had told him that.

Bugger me, why did I think I was cut out for this? He’d handed Trykon his wings hours earlier, when the Commander of the 2nd Fleet had personally come down from the Command Bridge to visit the injured. Of course he had – he was legless and a failure. He would have been in dereliction of duty if he had considered himself worthy of his wings, or of the honour of commanding an Interceptor Squadron. No, for now, he was just a cripple whom had to come to terms with the sting of failure and the phantom pains of his leg.

Or lack thereof. With another heartfelt sigh, he decided to channel the despair he was feeling into something marginally useful, and reached out towards the datapad that he had been writing in on and off since he had been hauled into the medbay. If there was one thing he did with what was left of his life, it would be to ensure that this disaster never happened again.

" Electronic Warfare is the use of sophisticated systems to jam and…"

OOC:
Word Count: 1,280 words, a reminder of the 128th Squadron that rustled Dunny’s jimmies.

AAR: Sam Dunn’s memory of the defeat at Bloodmoon haunts him, and as he reflects on his losses, both physical, emotional and career-wise, he distracts himself by working on a personal little project…
FM|MCPO Sam "Dunny" Dunn
Cobalt Twelve|S:50 "Chlovi" W:101 "Blade"
ISD Adjudicator|TF:A|2FL|SC|VEN|VE

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Cervidae
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 8:09:07 AM    View the profile of Cervidae 
Elijah Garris continued his pace down the halls of the Adjudicator, as Sebastian fell in stride with him. The two were very close in height -- Quick Fire standing at six foot, while Ferret stood at six foot two -- and therefore keeping at such a long, smooth stride was second nature for the two former wingmates. Despite the fact that their friendship had started off painfully -- almost agonizingly -- slow due to the blue-eyed flyer’s extreme case of social anxiety, time proved to be the true key to developing their relationship. While Elijah could have sworn that the other’s name was Gurdy for at least two years and Sebastian had couldn’t bring himself to even look at Eli’s face (much less talk to him) for about the same time, a very patient Quick Fire and a very willing Ferret were able to bridge past insecurities and create a strong bond of friendship. It had it’s moments of testing each other’s wits, especially when an anxiety attack strikes the taller of the two and he’s rendered impossible to deal with while still being Elijah’s responsibility.

Yet, despite troubles, the two were a unique definition of close, and that’s what made them so efficient together. Quick Fire rolled his shoulders, keeping his attention on the hallway as the two walked in-near perfect step. “The sim? All right, actually. I couldn’t keep up my reaction time, but that was more the tech glitching than my own lack of focus. ‘Sides, I only had the time for a handful of runs. Body forgot what it was like to be rushin’ about in the hangars.” A smirk pulled at his typically stoic face. To just about anyone else, the white haired flight member wouldn’t have admitted the fact that he had gone for a while without working his mind and body to agree with hours of heavy labor. Yet, with Ferret, it was always different. He was (albeit neurotic often) like another brother, one more his age and more like him than the youngest of the Garris family. “But there’s not much else I’d change. Still hit my targets, still beat my sims.”

Continuing at a reasonably acceptable pace, the men seemed to look as though meeting a new squadron would be a cakewalk. Yet, internally, there was really nothing much more than apprehension. Memories of Ferret having a panic attack and fleeing midway through a briefing tinged the flyer’s thoughts as they made their way closer to the medbay. Even with his medication, the other still couldn’t handle crowds very well, but that wasn’t exactly anything he could change. Illness was illness, but it never stopped him from proving himself to be a valuable flyer. “Couldn’t they have picked another place to hold a briefing?” Ferret muttered, still fidgeting around with the photo of his pet ferret in his pocket. Quick shrugged, turning the corner to where a small crowd of people stood outside the doors of one of the many medbay cells. More particularly, the branch where Sam Dunn and many others of the 50th laid in recovery. “She went to them, I ‘spose.”

She, Cervidae Sandor, was his newly assigned wingmate. They had met a few times: twice in the hangars and one more time by the bars. Although the first time was more him helping her out of her TIE Interceptor (which she seemed more than eager to get out of), he had considered it a meeting because she had thanked him for it the following meeting. She had been promoted to the Squadron’s Executive Officer and was down in the chaos of the hangars to personally inform him of his new partner in the following flights to come: the SXO herself. The woman, already an obvious figure amongst the others, looked much different from the other times he had met her. Even the first time, when all she could think of was escaping the cockpit of her TIE and rushing over to her wingmate, she had managed to give him a smile.

However, at the moment, the look on her face was more that of a serious XO than the fresh, green face of just yesterday. The other Chlovis in the crowd were still just faces. He hadn’t found the time to read anything about them yet, but he would know who flew what if their callsigns were announced. From Aurek to Cresh, the 50th’s Interceptors were ready to fly whenever they were needed. Which, unannounced to the squadron at the moment, was much sooner than they had predicted. The Trandoshan, however, was new. From the look in his eyes and his height, Elijah was able to recognize him as the famed Vorssk Attragal. To every alien flyer, Krayt was a role model about what they could do in the Vast Empire, despite the fact he was quite the slave-driver when in charge. Elijah hadn’t personally ever flown with the Trandoshan, but he had known others to have fallen under his command.

Depending on the race, the overall agreement of him was that he was a leader in most every regard of the term. Now, from there it typically drove off into speaking about how nasty his temper was and how much terror he could strike into ‘weak links’, but that wasn’t for the flight to be concerned about. If he was there for a reason (to which they would learn that he was the squadron’s new commander), then they really had no reason to do anything but give him their best. Or, at least, that’s how the flyer took to the change of command. He had no personal ties to Dunn, despite having seen him on multiple occasions on the ship, so the leader switch gave him no concern at all. In fact, a man with a reputation of being a strict leader was more reassuring to Eli than being led by a former convict. 

Giving Ferret one quick nudge to the shoulder to bring him down from his currently growing anxiety, the two men stood amongst the crowd. Quick Fire turned himself towards the new SCO, especially good at giving respect to anything not-human with his own history of working under aliens. “Sir, Elijah Garris and Sebastian Raidro reporting as requested.” Krayt merely nodded, instructing the squadron to follow him for a briefing. To which, as reluctantly as a few of them may have merely due to the confusion of the current situation, the Chlovi managed to shake themselves out of their recovery state for a moment long enough to follow their new reptilian leader.       

OOC:

WC: 1103
AAR: Elijah and Sebastian make it to the squadron, joining the Chlovi to prepare for the debriefing that I'll have fleshed out in Cervidae's next post. For this post, it was mostly the end of Quick Fire's character development for a while as to give his opinion on the new SCO and what he's been told about him before by others. Just due to his extensive record of excellence, Quick feels more secure under the Trandoshan than the former convict.

Aaand I'm done with Eli for a bit. Cervidae gets posts today to progress the Chlovi before the end of the day so things keep swimming beautifully.
SXO/PO2/Cervidae/Cobalt 7/S:50 "Chlovi" W:101 "Blade"/ISD Adjudicator/TF:A/2FL/SC/VEN/VE [SoA][*CO*][MiD][MC1][CC:1]


"The world is not a wish-granting factory; you must earn what you deserve."
Hades
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  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 9:37:45 AM    View the profile of Hades 
Markayn Hurt was in bed when the transmission came, and he lamented the fact he had to actually wake up to take it.

"CWO Hurt. What is it?"

"Sir, Shadow here." Treury, then.

"Do you ever sleep, Master Chief?" Hurt groaned sleepily. Beside him, Hylda DeBruyn, his XO and lover, stirred in her sleep. Markayn swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feeling her arm slip off him as he did so. The Chief Warrant Officer paced over to his desk and rested against it.

"That is a really broad question, sir." Just as Hurt when to cut off another rant, Treury did it himself, "Anyway.. are you alone, sir?"

Markayn glanced back at the red-haired Hylda, still asleep. "As alone as I'll ever be, Shadow. Go ahead."

"Well, this is officially confirmed as of ten minutes ago." Shadow paused dramatically. "The Naval Commander in Chief has been kidnapped by escaped prisoners."

Any sleep left to cloud his brain disappeared in an instant. "Escaped prisoners?" Markayn exclaimed incredulously, before remembering that Hylda still slept and lowering his voice. "Since when was the NCC even nearby?"

"Rumour has it he arrived on a Hawkbat a few hours ago aboard the Brilliant to bestow a certain accolade on them.." Shadow trailed off expectantly.

"Admiral's own?"

"The very same." Shadow's triumphant grin could almost be heard through the comm. His tone sobered quickly though, "the prisoners made off with a kriffin' wookiee, boss, from the depths of a Star Destroyer!"

"Aye, it's a hard thing to comprehend." Markayn affirmed, "but it's out of our control for now."

"For now?"

Markayn sighed and rolled his eyes. "Goodnight, Master Chief," The CWO then cut the comm. channel. The Zabrak sighed again, pondering the news. The NCC snatched from our own clenched fist? Markayn thought talk about a morale boost for the Imperial Dominion..

"So he's really captured?" A tired voice murmured from the bed. Markayn froze and hope she was sleep-talking, "Mark?"

"Aye," the CWO turned slowly and saw her peering at him through tired eyes. "Aye, he is. " She had begun to wake properly now and Markayn grimaced guiltily. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay.. I've had enough sleep anyway." She winked at that and propped herself up on her elbows. "Besides, I'd prefer to be woken for news like this."

"As you say.." Hurt murmured in response, still somewhat in shock.

"Be a darling and get me a caf?" Hylda sighed tiredly. Markayn nodded slowly. They had a portable instant caf maker in Markayn's room, so he reached for that and began the short process. After a minute or two, he handed her a steaming cup of caf. She smiled lovingly, "Thank you."

"Mm.." He made a noncommittal sound, still thinking about the news Shadow had delivered.

"Adjudicator to Mark, Adjudicator to Mark," Hylda teased him. "Anybody there?"

"Mark to Adjudicator," he responded, continuing the jibe, "I'm just considering how to dispose of my inane XO.."

"Oh dear, that's no good.." Hylda giggle and he couldn't help but smile, "the poor woman!"

At that Markayn jumped back onto the bed and pinned his XO, beginning to tickle her amid happy squeals. "Mark- Mark stop, you'll spill my caf-" She was unable to go on as she broke out into fits of laughter.

--- --- ---

Hylda left his quarters when they were sure no-one was about, going onto her tippy-toes to give him a goodbye peck before hurrying off down the corridor. Hurt moved back into his room with a small smile on his face.. He knew their relationship would become a lot less.. well, less when the actual battle began. No matter, Hurt recalled some quote or other about enjoying the here and now and crossing bridges when you came to them.. Hurt would deal with that issue when it came around. For now, though, he had a squadron to brief.

In the interest of that, Markayn sent out a datapad memo. Meeting in the canteen in 20. That done, he got dressed, donning his uniform and attachments before heading out the door. Despite the size of the Adjudicator, it did not take the Squadron Commander long to reach the canteen - certainly within the 20 minute deadline he'd set - wherein he found Hylda and Besh Flight. Shadow and Cresh flight were yet to be seen, but they had a few minutes to spare. Cresh flight stood as they saw him and saluted sharply - while not necessary, it pleased Markayn to see a display of such discipline in what was now his squadron.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Shadow entered, followed by Cresh Flight. The long table they sat on was only just big enough to accomodate all of them, though the canteen was largely deserted - a few pilots or crewmen on their lonesome here and there, but otherwise empty. "So," Hylda started, "what's this about, Chief?"

She played the innocent role so well, and while Markayn could see Traz watching her carefully.. Hurt as proud of her. "The NCC's been captured."

There were a few sharp intakes of breath, a few whistles and a few changes in expression. One to note was Traz - the not-so-intelligent flight member had a dumb grin on his face, as usual. Shadow and DeBruyn hid their concerns well enough, like the senior NCOs they were. "How does this affect us?" A member of Cresh spoke up.

"It doesn't.. at least, not yet." At this, Shadow's eyes lit up, "We might be called in later for aerial bombardment in support of whatever team is sent to get him, but nothing's certain yet."

"What team?" Traz asked suddenly. Hurt fixed him with a calm gaze,

"None as of yet."

"Oh." Traz responded sullenly, and went back to grinning dumbly. Shadow nodded slowly in understanding.

"I'd like you to keep this on the low-down. I'm not sure exactly how many people know and while it's bound to spread, I don't want to be the one doing it. More confusion or fear in the VEN is not what's needed at the moment.."

"When is it ever needed?" one of Besh flight spoke up this time. Everyone chuckled along with the joke, except for Hurt - but even he smiled slightly..

"Fear has its uses, Crewman."

OOC:
Wordcount: 1,080

AAR: A post about Gundark. Mainly, they just find out about the NCC's kidnapping and debate the ramifications thereof, though Squadron Commander Markayn Hurt also debates what is going to happen with his secret relationship with WO2 Hylda DeBruyn, his SXO..

Chief of Naval Training, 50th Squadron Commander

SCO | ESN "Hades" | Cobalt 1 | S:50 "Chlovi" | W:101 "Blade" | ISD Adjudicator | TF:Aurek | 2nd Fleet | SC | VEN | VE
CNT | ESN "Hades" | PLF Cappadocious | VENA | VEN | VE

VENI

"When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade - make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons, what am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's superior, make life rue the day it thought it could give Demetrius Aita lemons, do you know who I am?! I'm the man who's going to burn your house down - with the lemons!"
-- Hades

{INTER} {SfrM} {XenMA} {GrAt} (=*SWC*=) (=TG=) {AFM} {HypM} {0Gee} {INFL}
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Xanin
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Xanin
 
[VE-NAVY] Senior Crewman
 
Post Number:  25
Total Posts:  40
Joined:  Apr 2011
Status:  Offline
  RE: VEN: Counterpunch: Death
February 27, 2013 7:51:08 PM    View the profile of Xanin 
OOC:
Strill


Xanin sat with his arms folded as Joamer told his story. He has heard of the Black Sun, even done a few ‘blind shipments’ AKA one-off smugglings for them, during his break between the governments. Apparently they used to be the biggest criminal group in the galaxy, but they began to deteriorate not soon before the creation of the New Republic. Xanin was never bothered enough to find out how, and frankly he did not care about it. All that meant to him about it, were the extra few easy jobs, even though that if he have failed them he would probably be killed.

“So when I choose to teach you should choose to listen. As such, you now have fifteen minutes to be in the Sim Room 3, in your armor, ready to fly.”

Xanin raised his eyebrow as he stared at his SC. Another sim run? But that’s what I’ve been just doing... reaching his memory he tried to remember which Sim Room was he using In fact... it’s the exact same room!. Slightly annoying he watched as the trio plunged their knives into the table.

“I believe we now have thirteen minutes to muster...” Edge exclaimed as he left his seat and walked towards the exit.

The squadron followed him, and soon enough they all were in the armory. Xanin, being only in tracksuit bottoms and tank-top, quickly put his armor on, though he still had trouble with few of the pieces. If it’s sure a ground sim, then I probably already know all of them... he thought as he reached for an E-11, reloading it and clipping it to his back. He knew that they weren’t to actually get into any real combat, but practising helped to train his muscles to the similar movement.

“Besh, ready?” the pirate called out as she finished readying herself and stood by the exit, her helmet in her hand. Xanin secured his belt, put his helmet on, and walked up to her. He nodded once, giving her the answer she seeked. Not less than half a minute the rest of the flight was assembled by the door, and they exited the room, leaving both the Auresh and Cresh flight still putting on readying themselves.

As the group entered the Sim Room 3, Xanin noticed that Edge was already there, but paid no attention to it. Instead, he nodded to the engineer, forgetting he had his helmet on. He sat on the sim-chair he has been using for the previous hours, and readied himself for the simulation.

“Ready.” the single word came out of his mouth, before the sim darkened on him, and the environment loaded. Looking around he saw that most things, such as the lasers or engines weren’t activated. The speedometer was also set to 0 units, leading Xanin to the conclusion that the Sim was frozen until everyone readied. Just like in the Academy... he thought to himself. He grabbed the controller of his fighter, and awaited for the sim to activate. Looking at his radar the other 11 fighters were clearly detectable, set in the V formation. After less than a minute, the HUD sparked to life and the sim’s name rolled through, along with the objective.

White Run Five

Patrol mission. Proceed to the checkpoints, unless attacked. If attacked, destroy the enemy and continue your patrol.


As the fighters fired forward, Xanin felt his body pressed to his chair by the g forces. The squadron effortlessly flown forward. For the first few minutes nothing happened, and Xanin allowed his thoughts to wander back to the table, and the stories of his fellow pilots. The one that sunk the most into him was Makenna’s. Her story of friendship and sacrifice seemed too similar to what he wished, and even dreamed, for sometimes. Maybe with time... the man thought to himself as he looked out the viewport onto one of the brighter stars Perhaps I’ll find that one thing.... As he calmed himself down he concentrated on the sensors, as well as refocusing his vision on what’s ahead of him. He thought himself Where is the enemy? as he scanned through the various sensors on his hud and cockpit. It seemed that the space ahead was empty. But if that was so...

“Enemy behind us!” Edge’s voice suddenly called out, as Xanin’s fear has fulfilled.

“Split into flights and engage!” Joamer called out.

“Alright, Besh, lets rock!” Avalar’s confident voice boomed through the Besh’s fighter’ speakers, as they realigned, following their FL.

As Xanin tightened his grip on the dual-stick as he tailed his FL closely. He wondered how difficult would the sim be, and if there were any humans on the other side; perhaps another squadron, also training themselves for the upcoming battles. Lets see what can they do, whatever they are... the old New Republican thought, as he did his best to prepare for the oncoming madness.

OOC:
WC: 839

The sim has began, and we have detected our enemies. We have split into our flights and our currently flying towards the enemy. We are also still unaware of Trykon's involvement in the sim itself(Xanin is completely unaware of Trykon being in the room, due to connecting himself to the sim-chair immediatly).
That should be it.
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FL/SCRW Xanin/Iron Five/S:58 Strill/W:101st Blade/ISD-II Adjudicator/TF:A/2Flt/SC/VEN/VE/[MC2] [CC:1]
"I don't always desert my teammates. But when I do, they all die." - Xanin
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