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Topic:  Legends May Fall Post New Topic  |  Post Reply
Riqimo
ComNet Sultan
Imperial Duke

 
Riqimo
 
[VE-ARMY] Captain
[VE-DJO] Adept
[VE-ICS] Company Agent
[VE-NAVY] Lieutenant Junior Grade
[VE-VEEC] Chief Engineer
 
Post Number:  2373
Total Posts:  2380
Joined:  Oct 2006
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  Legends May Fall
June 12, 2019 5:13:37 PM    View the profile of Riqimo 
==++==++==
20 ABY, 8th Standard Month, Day 17 [Lotaith 17, 20 ABY on VE Standard Calendar]
[Same day as Destruction of Lotaith - Approx 1 hour after the event]

Sian System (Location of Vast Empire Army HQ)
[Currently under assault by Thrawnist Forces]
==++==++==

Chaos.  Barely controlled chaos held together by sheer discipline and dedication to drills that have been repeated thousands of times in the past.  That training was the only thing keeping the military functioning right now, allowing Riqimo to quickly point at something and get it done.

In all of this chaos and despair, apparently anyone with rank who seems to know what to do quickly and unquestionably gets obeyed, regardless of if they were prepared for this situation or not.  Unfortunately the civilians were not quite as… disciplined.  Many were broken down at various points across the makeshift star port that the Intel division had been operating for about two months now.

Riqimo did unfortunately had to use a little Force-display to convince a small civilian riot to settle down and comply with evacuation procedures.  It was that or have the speeder convoy literally run through them, just a few more insignificant numbers on the loss of life today... Riqimo wasn’t going to let that number go up because of something he did directly.

“Sir,” Hetus shouted over trying to speed though the streets, still in their rebuilding stages from the previous occupation, “We should be at the evacuation site soon.  The Juxtapose is almost ready for take-off.  And several troops with STC experience have been managed to be on board.”

“The Dominion reports it is currently being boarded,” a voice chimed in from the back of the speeder.

Riqimo muttered a few curse words in Huttese under his breath as the starport came into sight, “Looks like it’s worse than tourist season.”

Riqimo had never seen the port so busy before.  A couple scattered and clearly under-supported Stormtroopers were trying to crowd control along with the grunt trooper forces.  Mechanics and droids quickly fueled and prepped every available ship for launch as quickly as possible.

“Time to hoof it, sir!” Hetus started to up his pacing towards the Juxtapose, making Riq silently mutter nonsense under his breath as he made his shorter legs catch up, “I think they are ready to take off, sir.  Although it looks like they are trying to keep civilians from rushing it.”

“No, no civies on this one,” Riq barked, feeling the crowd quickly dispersing to give him the obligatory clearance space afforded to a Dark Jedi out of simple fear and respect.

“You’re going to let us die!”
“At least take my child!”
“They are going to blow the entire system!”

Riqimo turned slowly on the loading ramp, letting his hood slide down from a sudden gust of wind, revealing his mask and eyes hidden behind a cold blank metal facade.  Silence was the civilian response.  They always feared the unknown.

Riqimo shouted to the group that was massed near his loading ramp, “I am taking this ship into the heart of the fight to retrieve essential information for our survival.  This may be a suicide mission.  Civilians, every ship is available for evacuation, just not this one.  It has one last important mission first.  Unless you plan on enlisting as soon as you step foot on this ship, give me clearance to take off.”

There was a crackle as the ship’s intercom system sprung to life, “Ready for takeoff in about 10 minutes, Doc.  Might want to get those folks off the launch area.”

Riqimo sighed and pointed to one of the few uniformed Stormtroopers nearby, “Get these people first access on that lambda shuttle over there.  I want them evacuated straight to the medical frigate.”


OOC:
Bit more of an army side story, but Navy is welcome to partake if they wish.  This story takes place largely in the Sian (Tadath) system.  The Dominion is being boarded, it has essential information that needs to be retrieved from its deep data banks.  Many long-range communications are bombarded with thousands of people trying to use simultaneously.

Most of the secure high level communication channels are restricted access and being controlled by the Intelligence division to limit who is using them.  Odds are if you’re going to be a key operative in this mission, they likely picked up your transponder code in the chaos and gave you access.

Lots of different things to write with, could be writing on the Dominion, with Riq’s group, preparing to defend the ground as civilians evacuate, coordinating destruction of sensitive information and infrastructure.
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"Put a blaster in a citizen's hands, and you have an expendable troop.  Put a purpose in his heart, and you win a soldier."
Jegora
ComNet Disciple
 
Jegora
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Sith Vitiator
[VE-ICS] Pirate Lord
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
[VE-VEHC] Brigadier General*
 
Post Number:  2170
Total Posts:  2174
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  RE: Legends May Fall
June 12, 2019 9:35:06 PM    View the profile of Jegora 
OOC:
Introducing Platoon Sergeant Dartri Elan
.

“You sunsabitches better hold or I’ll kick all your asses so hard you’ll be chewing on your own balls!”  Dartri roared, his voice carrying from his helmet mic directly into the ears of the nearby stormtroopers.

“I don’t have any balls,” one of the female troopers hollered in response.

“You will when I get done with you,” Dartri retorted. “Now lay down some decent goddamned suppressing fire!”

There was a chorus of snickers and a few complaints, and more than a few rather lewd suggestions of just how Dartri could entertain himself during their next stretch of relative quiet. Sighting down the barrel of his rifle, Dartri grinned slightly beneath his helmet as he resumed his methodical fire, contributing his own blaster bolts to the mass of suppressing fire that was the only thing keeping the enemy at bay. His troops had been on the line for days without relief and with minimal supplies, but somehow their morale was still decent.

Dartri wasn’t a young man, not by the standards of the Corps, but he was still in the prime of life. Almost halfway through his third decade, he had been a soldier for almost fifteen years. He had risen to the rank of platoon sergeant, and had been enjoying a rather cushy posting to the Dominion before everything had went to absolute shit.

Now he found himself commanding a “platoon”—at almost half strength, the troops that he commanded amounted to little more than two squads, although the order of battle still called it a platoon. They had no officer (not that a young lieutenant, most likely green and unblooded, would have proved any help in their current situation). In fact Dartri had lost all contact even with his superior officers. His last orders had come directly from Division and had included a very general directive to assume their current position on the perimeter and hold it at all cost. Since then, radio silence. Their short-range comlinks kept them in touch with units on either side of them, and with a few nearby support units, but other than that Dartri’s team was blind to events beyond their little section of hell.

The fact that orders came directly from Division seemed to indicate that whole echelons within the chain of command were getting wiped out, and Dartri had been a soldier long enough to know just how big of a cluster that was. But so far his platoon, and the units on either side of them, had managed to hold the line with minimal casualties.

Most of their success was due to their fortified position. Dartri’s stretch of the line included several multi-story buildings, most of which were missing various bits. He had his platoon stationed throughout the buildings and on multiple floors, covering a stretch of the defensive perimeter over a hundred meters long. This part of the city had once been a middle-class haven, mostly residential, but now it was a smoking ruin. The two or three hundred meters in front of Dartri’s troops had been reduced by previous bombings, artillery, and blaster fire to little more than rubble—a veritable no-man’s-land. The result was excellent cover with wide fields of fire for Dartri’s troops and a prime defensive killing field full of obstacles that the enemy soldiers had to push through in order to reach the platoon’s position. So far, the terrain advantage had won the day, but Dartri feared that was about to change.

This most recent enemy assault was the most fierce yet, the sheer amount of enemy troops threatened to overwhelm the position. Dartri and his men kept firing, making sure that the enemy paid for every inch of ground they took, but the enemy clearly had more troops to spend than Dartri and his men could kill. Slowly they began to advance through the killing field, paying for each meter with tens of lives.

“Get on those repeaters!” Dartri ordered, and one of the troopers on his floor hustled off and took the stairs two at a time, heading to the roof. Dartri and his platoon had placed several heavy repeating blasters throughout the buildings, but had until now avoided using them for fear of drawing too much attention to the valuable weapons. Now, however, there was no other choice.

“In position, Sarge,” a voice crackled on the comlink. Three other voices followed suit.

“Open up, soak the bastards!” Dartri shouted. After a brief second delay, he heard the rhythmic thumpthumpthump that indicated a heavy blaster at work. Thick green bolts of energy lanced out across the field, and where they struck there was a mini explosion as the high-energy envelopes made contact. The enemy advanced soon stalled, and after several more seconds of withering fire from the heavy repeaters the enemy troopers began to scramble back across the field, threatening to quit the field entirely.

“Well done platoon,” Dartri said after a minute. “Repeaters, stand down and secure your positions. Reload and cooldown. Everyone else, keep firing, we don’t—“

There was a loud shriek that cut Dartri off midsentence, and then a sudden rumble shook the building he was in. Dartri felt his heart drop—he knew that sound. Tanks.

“Take cover!” he ordered. “Get those repeaters below deck.” But he was too late. Slowly a heavy repulser tank materialized through the smoke. It was still several hundred meters away, but it didn’t have to be any closer for its main gun to be devastatingly effective. And the tanks heavy repulser engines meant that it wouldn’t be slowed very long by the rubble, either.

There was another screech, but this time Dartri saw the muzzle flash from the tank. This round also went high, grazing the top of one of the neighboring buildings (one that hadn’t hosted a repeater, luckily), but Dartri still felt the energy of the shot as an electric current on his skin. If they gave it a chance, that tank would tear them apart, and Dartri’s squad did not have weapons sufficient to deal with it.

Keying his comlink, Dartri tried to reach one of the support units stationed behind the main line of defense. Communications that far out had been spotty, but all he could do was hope the message got through.

“Cobra 3-2, Cobra 3-2, this is Jester Actual, respond. Over.” Dartri spat into the comlink, but only static returned his message. Another round went racing over their heads, but it didn’t seem to make contact. The enemy tank must have had trouble with its sighting.

“Cobra 3-2, Cobra 3-2, this is Jester Actual,” Dartri tried again. “Respond, damnit. Over.”

Again, nothing. Seconds stretched into moments and Dartri began to realize that no help was coming. There was nothing that his platoon could do to take out that tank except die trying, and there was nowhere to retreat. But just when Dartri’s thoughts began to turn dark, his helmet comlink crackled to life.

“Jester Actual, this is Cobra 3-2. We read you. Ready for fire mission. Over.”

“Cobra 3-2, this is Jester Actual,” Dartri returned, trying to keep the relief out of his voice. “Requesting ordnance package Helix. Over.”

“Ordnance package Helix confirmed, Jester Actual. Over.”

“Grid 9992-1743-3321,” Dartri recited carefully, recalling the grid coordinates he had memorized upon taking command of this section of the line. He kept an eye on the tank, but it appeared to be held up navigating through a particular difficult stretch of the no-man’s-land and couldn’t bring it’s main gun to bear. They had bought a little time, it seemed.

Pulling a set of macrobinoculars off his utility belt, Dartri listened as Cobra recited the grid coordinates back to him. He ranged the tank, then relayed the necessary targeting adjustments over the comlink.

“Push 28.66 left, 236.84 downrange. Over.”

“Push 28.66 left, 236.84 downrange. Over.” Cobra confirmed.

Dartri put the macrobinoculars away, letting them clip back to his utility belt. “Enemy repulser tank and enemy infantry advancing on the line. Targets in the open. Danger close. Fire for maximum effect. Over.”

Another round went soaring over Dartri’s head, closer but still several meters above the building. The veteran sergeant didn’t know what the tank was shooting at, but all he could do was thank every deity he could think of that the tank’s gunners seemed to be incompetent.

“Roger, Jester Actual. Enemy tank in the open. Danger Close,” Cobra responded, the fire control operator’s voice a slow drawl. Dartri understood the necessity of fire discipline, but goddamnit that tank would figure out its aiming troubles sooner rather than later. Fire control, however, continued on unfazed as if reading from the manual. “Firing for maximum effect, grid 9992-1743-3321, push 28.66 left, push 236.84 downrange. Over.”

“Fire mission confirmed,” Dartri bit off, growing more and more impatient. “Jester Actual out.”

There was another screech, the sound of tearing aluminum, and this time the tank didn’t miss. This round took out the building next to Dartri’s, destroying the top floor of the structure. Dartri had stationed several troopers in that building—he only hoped that they had managed to get to cover, but he couldn’t spare time worrying about them now. There was a long second of delay, and then the comlink cackled to life again.

“Jester Actual, this is Cobra 3-2. Rounds out. I say again, rounds out. Six seconds, over.”

Dartri counted the seconds in his head, forcing himself to do so as slowly as possible. When he got to three, he heard the fire package approaching.

“Take cover! Rounds incoming!” he relayed to his men, then hit the dirt.

The rounds impacted with such tremendous force that Dartri had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering in the shockwave. Then the follow-up shells hit, and Dartri felt those as dull thuds that vibrated through his very bones.

Ordnance package Helix was the standard anti-armor indirect fire package of the Vast Empire military. It was a multi-munitions package. The first wave consisted of a high-energy salvo that released an intense ion blast. This temporarily disabled the electronics, shields, and repulsers of the target (and killed any unshielded enemy troopers who were unlucky enough to be in the blast radius). The second wave was a salvo of guided smart munitions. Slower than the ion shells, these were the real killers, designed to penetrate heavy armor and then explode the target from the inside out.

Dartri had seen the effects of a Helix strike before, but it was always impressive. As he slowly made his way to his feet and peered across no-man’s-land at where the tank had been, he was impressed yet again. Where the enemy repulser tank had seemed unstoppable before, now it was a twisted hunk of steel at the bottom of a brand new crater. Dartri couldn’t help but grin.

Keying the comlink, Dartri confirmed the rounds impact for fire control. “Cobra 2-3, this is Jester Actual. Round splash on target. Thanks for the assist. Out.”

“Roger, Jester Actual,” Cobra responded. “Happy hunting. Out.”

“Take that ya bastards,” Dartri whispered to himself as he surveyed the no-man’s-land in front of him, elation swiftly growing in his chest as he watched the rest of the enemy troopers turn tail in full retreat. “Run on back to whatever ass crack you crawled out of.”

Dartri’s elation was short lived, however. Over the comlink, a voice he recognized called out the one word that a platoon leader never wants to hear.

“MEDIC!”
Jegora Fal
Sith Vitiator
Jegora
ComNet Disciple
 
Jegora
 
[VE-ARMY] Brigadier General
[VE-DJO] Sith Vitiator
[VE-ICS] Pirate Lord
[VE-NAVY] Ensign
[VE-VEHC] Brigadier General*
 
Post Number:  2172
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Status:  Offline
  RE: Legends May Fall
June 20, 2019 11:39:03 PM    View the profile of Jegora 
Dartri watched as the medico loaded three of his men—or at least what was left of them—onto a speeder. All three were dead, victims of a tank shell that had obliterated the entire floor of the building they had been taking cover in. Dartri had led the rescue effort himself, tasking half his remaining troops to watch the line just in case the enemy decided to make another push, but as they had started to dig through the rubble of the building it quickly became apparent that there would be no survivors. As they collected the shattered pieces of what had once been stormtroopers, Dartri couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of dread that was growing in his chest.

He knew there was no way that his troops could hold their position for much longer. From the beginning they had been too few for the amount of area they were expected to cover, and although they had suffered incredibly light casualties to-date, Dartri knew they would feel the absence of the three dead troopers on the line. To top it off, the same tank shell that had killed some of his men had also destroyed one of his repeating blasters, the most effective tool he had for deterring the enemy troops. And now they were starting to run low on ammunition and other supplies, especially food—Dartri estimated that they had just a couple days of each left.

If they ran out of ammo or food, Dartri’s platoon wouldn’t be able to hold this section of the line. And if the enemy broke through them main line of defense on either side of their position, Dartri knew that they would quickly find themselves surrounded and cut-off from any support, which meant almost certain death.

The enemy wasn’t known to take prisoners.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Dartri turned from the retreating speeder carrying his fallen troops and ran his gaze over the ruined buildings that constituted his defensive position. He still had three heavy blasters, now safely tucked away inside reinforced strongpoints scattered across the line. He could bring them out again in case the enemy tried another big push, but he also knew that as soon as he started using the weapons they would be exposed, prime targets for the enemy to focus on. He could only use them in the most dire of need.

That left him with thirty-ish troopers with light personal weapons, although he did have a couple long-range anti-personnel blaster rifles he could deploy with a couple of his troopers if he needed to. Still, there was a lot of ground to cover, and Dartri knew that as he continued to suffer casualties the gaps in his line would only grow larger—and a result, their position would only continue to weaken. Still, he knew his job: hold the line, let the civilians and the critical personnel escape, and hope things held together long enough that the units defending the line could be recovered before they were overrun.

There was a crackle of static in Dartri’s ear that interrupted his reverie. “Jest…ual, this…command…ver.”

Dartri tapped the side of his helmet, trying to clear up the signal. “Command, this is Jester Actual, say again. Over.”

“Jest…infil…sewers. Out.”

Dartri cursed in frustration. “Command, this is Jester Actual. Please repeat, over.”

Nothing but static answered Dartri’s request, and he cursed again. It was at least clear from the garbled transmission that Command expected some sort of infiltration attempt from the sewers, but Dartri had no idea what kind of enemy force to expect or where the sewers large enough to transport an enemy force actually ran. He’d have to sweep his whole area of control, which meant pulling a significant portion of his force off the line.

Dartri hoped this wasn’t a wild goose chase, or a diversion from a larger overland attack. If he pulled half his troops from the line and the enemy tried to rush the line…

Still, orders were orders, even if they were incomplete. Keying his comlink, Dartri opened a channel to his squad leaders. “Bates, Trix, pull your squads from the line and meet me at rendezvous Auresh. Something’s come up.”
Jegora Fal
Sith Vitiator
Brightstar
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Brightstar
 
[VE-ARMY] Platoon Sergeant
[VE-DJO] Uninitiate
[VE-ICS] Privateer Captain
[VE-NAVY] Warrant Officer 2nd Class
 
Post Number:  710
Total Posts:  710
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  RE: Legends May Fall
June 26, 2019 2:55:30 AM    View the profile of Brightstar 
It was happening again.

The world was falling apart around her and all she could do was watch it burn. The feeling of drowning in a raging river of darkness and despair was as overwhelming as the physical scent of ash and dust, blood and sweat, and the pungent cloying odor of fear.

Rain D'Jonoc, most commonly known as Brightstar, brought a long fingered hand up to cup her mouth and over sensitive nose in an effort to stave off the urge to gag and the roiling in her stomach. Her violet eyes surveyed the destruction happening around her with a false sense of calm. She knew she should do something, but what she didn't know. Where to start, where to jump in? Slowly she reached for her comlink. Maybe, she could figure out where she was needed most if she could get anyone on the other end. Not that she hadn't already been trying, just that all she'd gotten so far was bursts of static or long haunting tones in a myriad of pitches. She'd stopped trying an hour ago.

The tingling down her spine that she'd grown accustomed too in the last few years made her pause. She was moving before she realized why she was doing so. Years as a soldier had honed her body to react on instinct when there was danger about. Many had called the ability uncanny, others just wrote it off as the red head being well trained. But to those few who truly knew, it was a talent, and indication that there was far more to her than what met the eye. A blaster bolt grazed by her, missing her by mere inches. Her own blaster had found it's way into her right hand and she was squeezing the trigger the next instant.

Rain didn't miss. The target, a trooper under the banner of Thrawn's Forces, fell to the ground clutching at a smoking hole in his neck. It was time to move.

Rain didn't know just where she was going, only that she was following a path of sorts. She'd never really questioned why she sometimes felt this compulsion, only that it occasionally happened and that if she ignored it, the feeling would turn painful. More pain was not what she needed today.

By the time she was able to recognize her surroundings again, she realized she was at the spaceport. The push and pull of the crowd and her already heightened senses, caused her stomach to roll in warning again. Taking a deep calming breath and letting it out slowly, she took a look around and noticed a gaggle of people, civilians by the looks of them, crowding a landing pad with a single ship. Not the typical Lambada-Class shuttles that she could see the majority of.

Security was keeping the crowd back as best they could but people were beginning to get desperate. That is until the crowd began parting. Bright felt more than saw the two figures moving through the crowd to the loading ramp. Of the two she dismissed the officer almost immediately. It was the other presence that drew her eyes and her attention.

“No, no civvies on this one.” A voice barked. She knew that voice. She ought to anyway, considering how often she'd heard it before and after she'd joined the VE.

A general round of disagreement followed that statement, but she'd stopped paying attention to the civvies. She instead hyper focused on the robed figure whose hood had fallen back. Half ofhis face was covered, but if she looked hard enough she could almost make out the features of the man she'd once known.

“I am taking this ship into the heart of the fight to retrieve essential information for our survival. This may be a suicide mission.” She squashed the urge to roll her eyes. The man had always somewhat had a dramatic streak. She'd rarely noticed unless his dramatics were well founded.

Not without me you're not. Rain thought.

“Unless you plan on enlisting as soon as you step foot on this ship, give me clearance to take off.” Riqimo's voice was ringing and demanding and carried with it an authority and Bright recognized. This was someone in charge, even if he didn't come right out and say it.

The former soldier remained rooted to to spot as the rest of the crowd was led away.  “Could you use another body, Sir?” She asked. She kept her own features as placid as she could. Even though she was far more open with her emotions than she had been in the past, she could still pull off the blank emotionless mask she'd been known for in her past.

The masked man she knew to be Riqimo Pershaw, turned slowly to look at her. Even as close as she was standing she could tell that he wasn't seeing her. “I must say again that this is going to be highly dangerous and will likely end in death for more than one of us if not all.”

She shrugged, not like she hadn't been on some pretty suicidal missions before. “Look, I'm qualified if that's what you're wondering, more than I'd say. Either way, I getting the hell on that ship, because something tells me that time is of the essence.” She was already moving toward the loading ramp when she executed a crisp salute. “Platoon Sargent Brightstar D'Jonoc, reporting for duy, Sir. That is if you are willing to accept my commission again.”

She couldn't read his face, but she did see a look pass over the features of the man with him. “And maybe no bloody Hutts this time.” She muttered under her breath as she passed the two men.

“As far as I know, there are no Hutts aboard the Dominion.” Riqimo replied with a small amount of humor.

As soon as they were aboard  she turned to the Dark Jedi. “We're not going to save it are we?” She asked, all traces of humor gone from her voice.

“No, we are not.” Was Riqimo's reply.

“Right.” With that she chose a seat and buckled in. Things were about to get far more complicated than she'd originally anticipated.
"For your sake, I really hope that isn't a challenge."


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