|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
May 24, 2021 21:41:35 GMT -5
Post by Meira on May 24, 2021 21:41:35 GMT -5
A brief moment of eye contact passed between Mazer and Iziwa as they took their orders and began to move. The corridor on this deck was fairly clear, aside from the signs of damage from the previous skermish over Obroa-Skai. What the hells had gotten The Brackettover that planet in the first place was a question that would have to wait until after the mission. They could speculate on the more clandestine operations of the Empire when they were all home and safe. Until then, they had a job to do. They moved at a quick pace along the hall toward the forward section of the ship. Soon enough, their hallway linked up with the one running parallel down the other side of the ship via a crossing corridor. Here, Mazer and Iziwa fell into pace with the Praetor Magnus and his apprentice. They ascended the stairwell and found similarly empty corridors on the command deck. But here, there were more signs of a struggle. The lights flickered, low and red, in emergency power mode. What light they did shed revealed the black scars of a blaster fight. But there were no bodies. Mazer and Iziwa kept watchful eyes on the other doorways as Viren set in to opening the bridge blast doors by sheer force. He might be one of the most powerful Sith in the galaxy, but his focus was forward. He'd be exposed if they were ambushed. As the metal of the blast door groaned under Darth Viren's will, Mazer motioned for Iziwa to turn and prepare to sweep the corners of the bridge as soon as the path was open. He'd cover until the breach was fully open. Iziwa turned, placing herself just behind and to the side of the Praetor Magnus. When the durasteel reached its breaking point, it issued an ear piercing screech and then buckled, bending back like the peel of some grotesque fruit. For a few tense moments, there was nothing. "Nexu." Iziwa said into the quiet of the bridge. There was another long moment of silence. "...Rancor." came a muffled reply. Iziwa turned to the Darth and his apprentice, giving a shake of her head. That was an old countersign. It had been replaced several cylces ago. There was the sound of movement somewhere in the bridge, and then a canister appeared, landing just within the hole the Praetor Magnus had created. Smoke immediately began to issue from the canister, obscuring any lines of sight into the bridge. A moment later, blaster fire erupted, flying through the smoke from at least four distinct points. "Contact! Contact! Contact!" Iziwa broadcast as she ducked to the side to find some cover by a wall. Mazer turned around, Firing blindly through the smoke to cover the movements of those around him. When Iziwa was able, she took on the role, allowing Mazer to find cover of his own. "Die, Imperial scum!" a voice shouted over the blaster fire. The accent caught Mazer's ear, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn't quite place it. From his cover, he adjusted his HUD to help filter some of the smoke. It wasn't perfect, but he'd at least be able to pick up on the forms of the hostiles. With care, he leaned out from cover, sweeping his eyes across what he could see of the bridge. "I count 5 hostiles." he reported. "Maybe more. Affiliation unclear." But I can guess... he added silently to himself.
Mosi and Theran made for the lift quickly upon receiving their orders, but changed their minds when reports of trouble with the lift controls came over the comms. Without Iziwa with them, they'd just be wasting time trying to made the lift work. Stairs would do just fine. So they'd rerouted, using the stairwell to move down one deck to the crew quarters. They were stacking to enter when movement rushed past, from above to below. They both turned, weapons attempting to track the movement. When they leaned over the railing to see what it had been, they were met by a hazy blur of a stealth field attempting to blend to the environment and the voice of the strange knight that was on mission with them reporting over the comms. A moment later, the Praetor Magnus issued an order to the knight. Mosi and Theran looked at each other. The former made a gesture with his head. The latter shook hers. Mosi repeated the gesture, more forcefully. Theran sighed and craned her neck to look over the railing. "You can come with us." she said, gesturing with her head toward the door they stood by. She then turned back to Mosi, giving him a there, you happy? gesture before moving back to the door. She paused to allow her counterpart to stack behind her and then opened the door and stepped through. The two soldiers scanned the corridor. There was more damage here. A great deal of carbon scoring and sparks jumping randomly from exposed wires and broken wall panels. The emergency lighting made for strange shadows. Mosi activated the flashlight on his rifle, allowing for a beam of clarity as he crept forward. Theran covered his six, unsure if the knight would also follow. Better to not count on needing him. "Contact! Contact! Contact!"The sound of Iziwa's voice over the comms caused the two to pause, waiting with baited breath for more information. Mazer's voice followed. There were hostiles on the bridge. That meant there could be hostiles everywhere. Theran stepped closer to Mosi, who gave her a nod. "Let's start in the med bay." he said, gesturing to a set of double doors at the end of the corridor. The members of Cresh Team are available to any PC. They will follow orders from Viren, Imago, or Verdandi first (in that order) but will otherwise support Moor or Karn where possible. Cresh Team members are NPCs and can be controlled by anyone. Their information can be found HERE.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Before writing your post, message MEIRA on Discord with where you will be going on the ship. You will receive a brief description to aid in setting up scenes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
May 30, 2021 4:42:07 GMT -5
Post by Blue on May 30, 2021 4:42:07 GMT -5
"Find a way to bypass the locked door, Moor. We shall handle the Bridge."
The Darth's words came in over the comms, setting the assassin's next move into stone. Though the Praetor Magnus was not his direct superior, as a Lord of the Inner Sanctum his orders could not be denied... at least, not unless Moor received a conflicting command from the High Archon. And so, with a called out offer from the soldiers, the Knight's blurred outline loped forwards, maintaining a position behind them.
I feel danger everywhere around me. Better to have others move forward first.
As if on cue, Moor felt a sharp tug at his mind and his head snapped upwards in the direction of the bridge. He paused there for a few seconds until the comms came to life, the cries of the soldiers above confirming hostile contact echoing in the earpieces of those soldiers below. Voices, ethereal and without breath, drifted past him like ripped fabric in the wind.
'There are hostiles everywhere.' Moor's rasping voice was sharp, and filled with the utmost certainty. With his stealth field active, the voice came from nowhere.
Soon enough they reached the med bay, the dark corridor illuminated fitfully by the sparking wires and struggling lum-strips. The soldiers glanced at each, made movements with their heads and hands, and moved together close to the door. Moor took the opposite side, waiting until one of them hit the button and the med bay portal swung open.
The soldiers moved in with their blasters at the ready, sweeping the room for threats. What they found instead was a cluttered space, one that stank of death and desperation. Several people were suspended in the few active bacta tanks; no other medical equipment appeared to have any power at all. Their attention was swiftly attracted to the one person standing, a woman in an Imperial medical staff uniform attending to three wounded soldiers, her focus on one in particular. Moor could sense that this man's life-force was waning with speed.
'Identify yourself,' the female soldier with the assassin called out, her weapon still aimed and ready. With her willingly pulling the attention of the room onto herself, Moor wasted no time moving further into the med bay, his footfalls producing no sound and his appearance still masked by his stealth field.
He moved forward and around, until his was besides the supposed doctor.
Friend or foe? Anyone can wear a uniform. I will be watching. If I feel you are false... you will not even know how you died.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
711 likes
addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
|
|
last online Mar 15, 2024 14:11:39 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
May 31, 2021 17:21:41 GMT -5
Post by Neology on May 31, 2021 17:21:41 GMT -5
[googlefont="News Cycle"]
Imago watched as Moor took off at full speed, head cocked to the side. Well … Clearly that wasn’t his problem to worry about anymore. He turned back to Captain Verdandi and her remaining subordinate, smiling beneath the tinted facescreen of his helmet. Viren’s voice came through loud and clear on the comm frequency, announcing his intent.
”Let us proceed to the engineering deck.” The very belly of the beast, if the command deck might be considered the brain. Most of it had looked blown out according to exterior images of the ship. Wasn’t that interesting? They retraced Moor’s steps to the lift without any incident, listening to the knight’s raspy commentary.
”Perhaps we can do something about the lockdown.” He stepped into the lift with the two Cresh team soldiers, looking over the young mirialan’s specialized gear with interest. The Force was on Imago’s side, evidently. It had gifted him the squad’s explosives expert.
”Check seals and locks.” The Lord Inquisitor muttered under his breath and clicked his heels, activating his magboots a fraction of a second before the lift’s warning light came on. The engine compartment was open to space and crowded with detritus. Otherworldly and silent and ultimately spoiled by the continuing chatter of the others. Hostiles on board. Unsurprising, perhaps but ...
How strange it must have been for them, stolen away with the entire ship. All those quiet hours while this team was mustered from across the Empire. What had kept them here?
They moved forward through the compartment and into the next. Engineering proper, a maze of machinery and catwalks painted red under emergency lighting. And they were not alone. He could feel two lifeforms clustered together beside one of the control consoles. A console that he needed. Casting a single glance at the Captain, Imago pantomimed an exaggerated shrug and crept forward. His armor was loud but so was the ship, tortured metal groaning near constantly. If he timed his movements just right …
Two humans in the uniforms of Imperial engineers. Recovering staff was technically under Viren’s remit for this expedition, not his. Ah well. As they turned and barrels came up to point in his direction, Imago seized both weapons with the Force and wrenched them out of their hands. He was deeply curious how the next several seconds would go.
”You are relieved of duty in the Empress' name. Now step away from that console.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 1, 2021 9:50:18 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jun 1, 2021 9:50:18 GMT -5
The blaster fire coming from the bridge was suppressive. Both Mazer and Iziwa struggled to gain any ground. The breached door was a choke point, with little cover to facilitate an assault with the numbers they had. That was... probably the point, Mazer mused as he managed to move up exactly one bulkhead's worth toward the doors. Iziwa had stopped, dropping to one knee to dig through her pack. He did his best to cover her, hoping she had something up her sleeve.
"Taylir! Taylir!"
Once again, Mazer paused. That was...
"Mando'a?" Iziwa said, looking up at him.
When he nodded back, she cursed under her breath, but at least she found waht she'd been looking for. A flash bang, but this one was of her own design. He recognized the shape of it. Nodding again, he turned to Darth Viren and his Apprentice. "Back a moment, my Lord." he said, hoping that the Darth would overlook that he'd essentially just been given an order. Mazer gestured at Iziwa, who was preparing to toss her flash bang. Mazer then stepped fully behind the bulkhead he'd been using for cover, taking care to ensure he had no direct line on the breach.
Iziwa took a steadying breath and then stepped out to toss the device through the breach. She then fully hid herself as well, waiting the brief moment for the device to detonate. A bang and bright flash erupted from just inside the door to the bridge. But, unlike a conventional flash bang, this one also emitted an electrical pulse that zapped out in all directions. The thick durasteel of the bulkheads in the corridor protected those on the outside. Some inside might have found cover, but if there was ever a chance to make it through that choke point, this was it. Iziwa tightened her grip on her rifle, and then stepped out, charging toward the opening with Mazer right at her side.
Doctor Tallak turned, startled by the sudden appearance of two new soldiers in the med bay. She did not shout, or jump, but the wide look of her eyes was evidence enough. She didn't not recognize these two, but that was not entirely uncommon. The Brackett was a large ship, and they'd taken on some new crew a while before... well whatever the hells had happened. She hadn't had the time to fully catch up on all the new crew.
Still... things had been rather quite for a while, and these two looked a little too clean to have been around. Rescue, maybe? Tallak stood, her hands obviously empty and in plain view of the two newcommers. "Doctor Berna Tallak. Chief Medical Officers. There is no threat here, soldiers. Please, lower your weapons. I have to tend to this man."
Theran glanced over to Mosi. There was a short pause as he brought up Dr. Tallak's file. When he nodded, both he and Theran lowered their rifles. Theran moved, checking the perimeter of the room. There was a door at the back and, while Mosi introduced himself, she checked it. Just a storage closet. One way in or out. So Theran posted herself up to face the door.
Dr. Tallak wasted no time after hearing that Mosi was a trained medic, she enlisted his help in caring for the man she'd been working on. With the two of them distracted, Theran spoke to the Knight. At first, she simply spoke to the room in general, but then the slight shimmer of his stealth field was seen at the corner of her vision.
"You scouting on?" she asked. "Mosi'll be busy getting them set up for transport." she explained, gesturing toward her teammate and the array of injured.
Verdandi and Pellon fell into step, moving with Darth Imago toward the lifts. They covered as the man entered, then stepped in behind him. As the lift descended, Verdandi simply focused on her breathing, ears keen for any updates from her team. When the Darth spoke, she barely had a moment to wonder what he meant before the lift announced the presence of vaccuum on this deck. With a quick, practiced potion, she touched her seal control, ensuring her suite was locked tight. Pellon fumbled, but only for a moment. their own magnetic boots moved along with Darth Imago as they exited the lift.
Moments later, when Mazer's voice announced a hostile presence at the bridge, Verdandi was prepared to bark new orders into her comms. But she stopped herself. Darth Viren was with Mazer and Iziwa. He would issue any new commands needed by their grouping. If she couldn't trust the Praetor Magnus to handle that situation... well, then they were all fucked. So Verdandi turned her attention to the hand signal Pellon had just made. Something ahead...
Darth Imago appeared to already be aware, as he was moving in a direct line toward the noise.
"Haar'chak!" came the muffled voice, but Verdandi wasn't sure she heard correctly. What did they say?
Verdandi and Pellon lifted their weapons, in near flawless timing with the two beings they'd managed to sneak up on. But, before she could call out to them, to assure them that she, her subordinate, and the Darth with them were friendlies, the two blasters were sailing though the air toward Darth Imago. It wasn't that Verdandi was surprised. She just simply never could seem to get used to that strange power.
"Hey!" one of the engineers feebly exclaimed. "Get... Get back!"
"Settle down, engineer." Verdandi said, moving forward but also lowering her own rifle. "You're back in Sith space. I'm Captain Verdandi, this is Sergeant Pellon, and that..." she pointed toward Darth Imago, "is the Lord Inquisitor." The tone of her voice was a mixture of reassuring gentleness with an edge of do what you're told, dumbass.
Strangely, it didn't have quite the effect she expected. The two engineers seemed to stiffen at the news of being in Sith space, rather than relax. And their eyes didn't shift toward Darth Imago like most people's did when the presence of one of the Pillars of the Empire was announced. In their fear and confusion, she somewhat understood a lapse in military discipline, so she didn't expect them to snap to attention like she would. And... they were engineers, after all. Might even be civilian. But a Darth was a rare thing. They didn't exactly grow on trees. Being in the presence of one was... well, practically unheard of unless one moved in very specific circles.
The male engineer elbowed the female and the two seemed to come to their senses. "Uh... yeah. Um... sure." she said, and the two shuffled away from the console.
Verdandi gestured to Pellon, and then made a circular motion with one finger above her head. Pellon nodded and stepped away, moving in a circle around them, sweeping the area. He couldn't do a thorough search on his own, but he could at least check their immediate perimeter. Verdandi stayed near Darth Imago, her eyes still scrutinizing the engineers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
Jun 3, 2021 11:43:40 GMT -5
Post by Blue on Jun 3, 2021 11:43:40 GMT -5
The injured and dying interested Moor not at all; if they were strong, they would live. If they were weak, they were not worth the supplies to keep them alive. It was as simple as that.
'Yes. The enemy must be uncovered and eliminated,' the assassin stated through his comms, preventing the doctor from overhearing the conversation. Then he left, his figure invisible. The medical officer would never know how close she had come to death at that moment.
From the reports, Darth Imago and his escorts had been able to access the lift and go down to the fourth deck. As he was still under instructions from Darth Viren, Moor would have to sweep the deck himself; it would not be a bad idea to meet up with someone as powerful as the Lord Inquisitor. His chances of survival would greatly increase... or substantially decrease, depending on the situation.
Of course, fleeing straight towards the Darth would not be looked upon kindly. Moor still had a mission to carry out, and to be seen shirking it would be... dangerous. With such considerations in mind, the assassin decided to travel towards the other end of the vessel first: life-support.
Reaching deck four was easier than expected since the lifts worked for that area, but that was where the convenience ended. As soon as the doors opened, it became clear that the atmosphere was far from friendly. Moor's suit allowed him to operate in the void for a time, but it was better to reach life-support as soon as possible and limit his exposure.
His footsteps silent, Moor approached the doorway to life-support, only to freeze momentarily. He felt the life-force of three people within and, after focusing his hearing, could hear their muttering. He approached cautiously, taking great strains in remaining unheard and unseen.
The doorway was open. More specifically, the portal was jammed, unable to close or open any further and with just enough room for Moor to slide his slim form inside. Three people, enclosed within familiar looking armour, where meddling with the machinery.
'Three intruders in life-support. They're-' Moor began, his words not escaping his helm as he spoke into his comms. However, one of the intruders swung around sharply, a device flashing and beeping in his hand.
'Aru'e!' they called out, raising a blaster pistol to cover the door. The other two scrambled to turn, completing the movement just in time to see a flash of red and their compatriot's head roll across the floor.
A spray of fire surged forward from one of the Mandalorian's wrist-devices, and Moor somersaulted into the air out of the way. His stealth device fizzled out, deactivated as it was no longer useful, and the lightsaber flew back into his hand.
'Mandolarian's in life-support. Eliminating now,' the assassin said into his comms. The how and why of these people being inside an Empire vessel could be pondered over later. Right now, his survival was his top priority.
One of the enemies remained near some complex machinery, while the other drew an elegant sword and moved to cover their comrade. They venomously hissed some words in Mando'a at him in a feminine voice before meeting his lightsaber. The sword repelled Moor's attack, his lightsaber unable to cut through it, and the assassin swiftly dodged several cutting motions and a kick. Another column of flame belched forth, forcing him even further back.
More senseless words delivered in smug tones, but with one that Moor recognized: Beskar.
With two capable foes before him, working in tandem and armed with weaponry difficult to counter, Moor dug deep into his warped being and dashed forwards, clashing against the sword wielding Mandalorian again. As they traded blows, the second, flame-using target seemed to shudder, then screamed something before aiming his wrist at the tangling couple.
Moor suddenly jumped, planting a boot against the sword-wielder's helmet and shooting up into the air. The cloud of fire engulfed the Mandalorian; the Beskar armour might keep them safe, but the weaponized flame was made to damage people wearing the thickest of defences. The metal heated up fast, causing the sword-wielder to flinch away and pull back to safety.
The assassin came back down, his lightsaber lashing out towards a gap. The flame-spouting device hit the ground with a thud, along with the limb it was attached to, and the Mandalorian gave a scream of pain as they clutched at his now armless shoulder. Their sword-wielding companion charged back forward with a roar of fury, and Moor drank the pain and fury up like a stranded man at an oasis.
The Force heeded his order and the Mandalorian was thrown backwards at speed. They did not even have time to vocalize their pain as a damage strut pierced their chest, the strength of the Push impaling them all the way to the base. There was a clatter as their nerveless fingers dropped the sword, and they moved no more.
Moor's gaze fell onto the strange sword, and he reached out. It flew into his grip, and he inspected it closely before unclipping the sheath from the still upright corpse of the Mandalorian. Returning it to its sheath and clipping it to his back, the assassin returned to inspect life-support in order to assess the damage.
It was still functioning... to a degree. But it seemed to be on its last legs, and from the looks of the toolkit now abandoned by the side of some machinery the Mandalorians were attempting to fix it.
'Hostiles neutralized. Life-support is in critical condition. Recommend someone with engineering expertise to come immediately,' Moor stated, ending his communication there. With the immediate needs taken care of, the assassin turned onto the half-alive, one-armed Mandalorian.
They were slumped over, shivering, their mind still reeling from the psychic assault that Moor had struck them with. The lithe Sith knelt in front of them.
'You will not keep your secrets,' Moor announced out loud, his rasping voice cold. He reached within...
Fresh screams echoed through those corridors not expose to the silence of space.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
711 likes
addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
|
|
last online Mar 15, 2024 14:11:39 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 7, 2021 15:44:19 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Jun 7, 2021 15:44:19 GMT -5
[googlefont="News Cycle"]
Hmm. That was far from the warm welcome one might expect from friendly engineers, lost and stranded for so many days. Imago cocked his head to one side, the smile beneath his helmet going slightly fixed. He scooped up one of the blasters and sent the other sailing far over the railing, into the ruined machinery below. Imperial issue, sure enough. But there would be quite a few such weapons assigned to a ship of this size.
”Very good, Ensign … ?” Imago nodded at the pair and brushed past them, trusting Cresh team to watch his back. Peering down at the console before him, he drew a thin, slightly squat object from his belt and fed one end into the maintenance port. The machine spent several moments reading the encoded surface before the screen flashed a sudden, poisonous green. The Lord Inquisitor took back his override seal and toggled his comm.
”That should do it for the lockdown.” In the meantime, Moor’s reporting did not go unnoticed. Mandalorians? How irritating. But would they strip out of their precious armor, an object of near-religious significance, to impersonate low-ranking members of the ship’s staff? To what end if they did?
”My, it sounds like you’ve been keeping some interesting company.” His gaze lingered on the pair for a moment, considering what to do with them. If life support was about to fail, anyone without proper equipment would be at risk – eventually. Including these two. That was assuming the hull wasn’t leaking all over the place, making it a moot point. ”Your talents are needed. Come with me.”
The scene of Moor’s recent battle seemed … Well, about what one would expect from a Sith of his particular bearing. The dead and the dismembered. Though Imago sneered to see the new acquisition stowed on the knight’s back. Trophy-taking was positively barbaric, after all.
”Go. Fix it – or I shall give you over to my compatriot’s keeping for your continued failures.” Imago made a brief gesture, shooing the probably-not-engineers to their work. It amused him to give this chance, a hand in their own fate. He spared the still-living Mandalorian a brief glance, extending his senses to assess the damage Moor was doing to them.
It seemed a brute force sort of thing. Appropriate, considering this was a secondary objective and that they had much of the ship left to search.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ysmir
Are you okay?
279 posts
163 likes
BUSTAH WOLF!
|
|
last online Nov 14, 2023 13:09:53 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Jun 7, 2021 19:33:14 GMT -5
Post by Ysmir on Jun 7, 2021 19:33:14 GMT -5
Though he stood in a fortress of armor, the Darth took no chances with the unknown.
The second that the soldier confirmed his suspicion -- that the code was old, discarded of and meaningless -- Viren's hand was grasped tightly around the hilt of his lightsaber. He was the first to respond when a volley of blaster fire erupted from the freshly formed hole in the durasteel door, lifting the hilt and igniting the ruby red blade to deflect each shot that was trained his way from his body. Viren was precise in his motions, careful to ensure that any redirected fire did not rebound into Karn or his other allies. The Darth backpedaled away from the door as he continued deflecting fire, though took note behind his visor of the relative position each assailant occupied. His helmet's HUD saw through the dense smog and darkness behind the Bridge door, and crude outlines of the offending figures were made clear to his eyes before he stepped completely out of their line of view. It was impossible to know what weaponry they had at their disposal.
"Insects," he growled, stepping behind a fallen beam in the hallway.
He wished nothing more than to charge in and make examples of them. Viren believed fully in his capability, but what he also took into account was the power of desperation. Perhaps he breaks their line in one fell swoop and closes the gap -- what's to stop these hostiles from blowing a hole in the bridge and sucking him out into the cold void of space? His suit's air supply would sustain him for a time, but long enough for a retrieval time to locate him? Doubtful. No, tact would be required in a delicate situation such as this. Luckily, it seemed that the soldiers under his charge felt the same way.
Viren had stepped from the fallen beam a moment prior and prepared to undertake something of a cautious assault, when he was stopped by one of the Cresh Team operatives -- Iziwa, her name was, if memory served. Even behind the blackened visor of his red helmet, one could feel the look of contempt he gave when she instructed him to stand back. But in the heat of battle, Viren focused the rage he felt at such an affront and decided to unleash it upon their enemies instead. He made way for the soldier, allowing her to carry out her plans while covering fire from within the Bridge continued to pound their position tirelessly.
A grenade. Crude, but effective. It would give him an opening.
Holding his double-bladed weapon back behind his waist, Viren crouched down and waited for the opportunity to strike. When the blast erupted from the center of the doorway, the Darth charged forth with Force-assisted speed that caused a rush of air to whizz by whoever happened to be adjacent to his path.
In a blink, the massive Sith Warrior had crossed the threshold of the door and was inside the Bridge, ready to pounce on those taken by surprise with Iziwa's quick thinking. The language of the Mandalorian people was not lost on his ears. Translated via the Force, he understood their words; Taylir! Taylir! Hold! Hold!
The first one he engaged was disarmed quickly; a vertical slash of his crimson blade cleaved their weapon in two, and it fell to the ground in chunks. Then, he pressed a hand to their chest and pulsed a powerful, concussive blast of telekinetic force at point blank range from his palm. The blow sent the Mandalorian insurgent flying backward at high speed, their Besker'gam clanging against the back wall as they fell in a heap on the floor. The armor of the Mandalorian people was notoriously strong, but it had its weaknesses, like anything else in the Galaxy.
Next, he turned and set upon another. From behind, blaster fire rang out, but the Force quickly took hold of Viren's senses. As though possessed, he moved his lightsaber behind his form and didn't break stride from his current prey, deflecting the shots back without so much as looking. Discarding their blaster, the Mandalorian before him drew a Beskad from their back and took it up in a stance of defiance, delivering a blow toward the Dark Lord. Towering over them, Viren deflected the slash with his armored forearm, though the Beskar blade left a deep imprint on the onyx plate. Swinging his lightsaber back in front of him, he exchanged three quick blows with the Mandalorian warrior, the Beskar holding up admirably against the burning crimson blades. But eventually, Viren's focused rage -- growing ever stronger as the fight dragged on -- gave him the decisive edge. During a bladelock, he dragged his lightsaber down and caught a kink in the Mandalorian's vambrace, singing their skin and causing them to emit a yelp of surprise. Taking this opportunity, he thrust his hand forward and grabbed onto their helmet. With a firm grip, he yanked the Mandalorian's head downward and met it with a swift upward knee assisted by the Force, delivering a blow of such strength and ferocity that it cracked the Mandalorian's visor. They flopped backward, head jostled, and unconscious.
With Mazer and Iziwa not requiring his assistance against their opponents, Viren turned to the fifth and final infiltrator. This one -- female, from the shape of her armor -- tried desperately to rouse her fallen comrade propped against the wall, to no avail.
Then, she drew in a gasp of air. In a moment, it felt as though a pressure surrounded her entire being, pushing down from every direction and restricting the most basic movements. Even breathing felt... labored, oppressive. Against her will, she was spun around in mid air to face the Praetor Magnus, who stomped forth to her, hand outstretched as he focused the Force around her form.
"You fight with honor and bravery. For that, you and your allies have my respect." Her back found the wall, and Viren held her there while the Cresh Team operatives finished up with their quarry. "But unfortunately, respect does not earn you my mercy. Divulge the locations of your other companions, tell me how you came to commandeer this vessel, and I promise your deaths will be swift and painless."
The crimson blade of his lightsaber snapped away. Her unconscious and bound allies were of no further threat for the time being. "Resist, and you shall understand pain the likes of which you've never encountered in your meaningless existence. The choice is yours, Mandalorian."
|
|
|
|
|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 8, 2021 9:07:00 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jun 8, 2021 9:07:00 GMT -5
One wouldn't call it a flinch exactly, but Mazer and Iziwa both felt a strange hesitance in their step as they moved through the breach. the cause, as it happens, was easy enough to identify. The Darth's own movements, assisted through that strange power he possessed, changed the very air around him as he moved. It was unnatural, but not entirely unknown to the team. Still, Mazer imagined that he could work with Sith on one hundred missions and still find that power unsettling. What followed, however, was very familiar to the man. Combat was a comfort, in a way. There was an order to the seeming chaos of two beings engaged in battle. Mazer moved, ducked, fired, re-positioned. He and his opponent circled each other within the room. A dance, of sorts. But a deadly one. When the Mandalorian's rifle seemed to jam, Mazer took his moment. He jumped up from cover, firing a cluster of shots. The Mandalorian's armor protected him, yes, but at this distance the force of impact was enough to get the man just off balance. As Mazer drew near, he unsheathed a vibroknife. The Mandalorian was raising his blaster, but Mazer was just able to knock it aside as he brought the blade up, seeking that opening just under the man's arm. The blade found the opening, sinking into flesh. The Mandalorian growled in pain, then shot his head forward, the helmet connecting against Mazer's at his left temple. Dazed, Mazer took an unsteady step back, his grip slackening on the knife. The Mandalorian must have been stupid. He pulled the knife out with a grunt, then spun it in his hand, ready to turn the blade on its owner. He advanced on Mazer, who was trying his best to keep distance as he shuffled back. The Mandalorian raised the blade... then fell. Blood pooled around him. Far too much blood.
"Should have left it in." Mazer said quietly to the dead man as he stooped to pick up the blade.
Looking around, He saw Iziwa, checking another figure. That one was also dead. He gave her a nod and she moved over to him. But before they could speak to each other, a cold, twisting feeling caught them both off guard. They looked at each other, but neither had the answer. Their eyes turned then, to the Praetor Magnus and the path he'd carved. Mazer gestured for Iziwa to check the one crumpled body on the ground. She confirmed the man was still breathing, but there was a large crack in his helmet. It didn't take Mosi to know that kind of trauma to the head was bad news banthas. He looked beyond the fallen man to where the Praetor Magnus had the last conscious Mandalorian in his grip. It was hard to look directly at what was happening. Darth Viren's power swirled in the area. He wasn't... no, he wasn't actually holding the woman. She was just... held. Mazer's skin crawled.
"Dar...jetti...hut'uun." Every syllable the woman spoke was a struggle as she writhed.
"Wrong answer, lady." Iziwa said quietly at Mazer's side, shaking her head.
It took a moment, for the engineer to understand that the man -the... Lord Insomethingorother?- was speaking to her. "Oh, uh... Tullia." she said. When she saw the female soldier eying her, the engineer gulped, eyes darting this way and that. "...Sir." she added, dumbly. Her counterpart simply stood there, his own eyes unable to stay still.
But there wasn't much time to contemplate their behavior. The Knight's report from life support was pressing. Verdandi was, again, about to issue an order to Iziwa, but the Lord Inquisitor has his own ideas. So she told Pellon to take point as they ushered the engineers along.
"I've got a bad feeling about this." he said as he passed her.
Bringing up the rear, Verdandi was the last to enter the life support area. The room was a mess, but it seemed much of the damage had been done prior to their arrival on the ship. that wasn't to say, however, that the Knight's additions to the scene weren't noticeable. The Knight himself was kneeling before one of his victims. The Mandalorian -shit, it was true- was groaning in pain. Verdandi felt the cold twisting that signified a Sith at work with their powers and she gave the man a wide berth. Not her place to interfere.
The engineers, scared before, were absolutely twitching now. Wide eyed, they stared at the bloody mess the Knight had made of the room. Pellon had to give one of them a bit of a shove to get him to put his attention to the task the Lord Inquisitor had set to him.
"Dr. Tallak and I have the injured secured. Transferring them now to the shuttles." Mosi said over comms. A moment later, Mazer's report from the bridge noted a few captives. Iziwa was preparing to copy over the flight logs from astrogation.
"Mosi, finish your sweep of Deck Three once you have the injured secured. Mazer, get to comms and see if you can hail the Stalwart Dusk. Let them know the Brackett's systems are failing and we'll have injured and prisoners incoming." After issuing the orders, she moved over to the Lord Inquisitor, speaking quietly to just him. "My Lord, Pellon can stand guard here if you would like to continue."
Mazer entered the comms area, the light on his rifle illuminating the otherwise pitch black space. Even emergency lighting had failed here. A sole console stood powered. he moved to it, but nearly tripped over something unseen on the floor. Mazer swept his light downward and it fell first on a leg. Following that, he discovered the leg belonged to an officer. Mazer quickly flipped the body, confirming the man was dead. His hands moved quickly through the officer's uniform, finding his ID and a datapad.
"XO Hannibal Crane, confirmed dead." he stated over comms as he brought the datapad to the console.
He arranged the devise on the top of the console next to his own, producing a connector to pair the two. As the devices synced, he turned his focus to the console itself, trying to see what life it had left in it. Not much, it would seem. This would take some time. But as he started into the work, a tone from his datapad caught his attention. He lifted it, angling to see what the alert had been.
Alert. Access to file "827-ONITH-45" is denied. Clearance level: Insufficient. Proceed with transfer of non-restricted files? Y/N
"I might have something here." Mazer said into comms. "XO Crane has some files I can't access."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
Jun 10, 2021 10:17:11 GMT -5
Post by Blue on Jun 10, 2021 10:17:11 GMT -5
Moor dug around inside the dying Mandalorian's mind. Pain, rage, shame. Faces of old friends, old enemies. Worthless. He tossed them aside and clawed deeper into the intruder's thoughts.
Disgust. Disgust towards his own kind. Their squabbling, their petty political aspirations. "We are FIGHTERS! Raiders, warriors!" A desire to break away, a name: Zeneca. A leader. The leader?
This had some potential, but before Moor could follow the vein, he felt the presence of others approaching. His hand fell to his lightsaber, but it was only some of the soldiers that had boarded the Brackett with them. And Darth Imago, too, bringing with him some... people. Uncertainty and deception seemed to drip off of the pair like sweat, but the assassin paid them no mind. If something went wrong, that would be on the Darth's head for bringing them. Moor returned to his own work.
"I just wanted to be free... but if we want to be free, we had to cause a little... chaos..."
The Mandalorian's thoughts grew fainter and more muddled as shock from his injury and the brutal telepathic assault overcame him. With a wet cough, the helmed head dipped to his chest, and Moor felt the man's life-force fade into nothingness.
'These Mandalorians were disillusioned by the political state of their people and broke away. They were here to cause chaos, apparently,' Moor stated to the room and into his comms, rising from his crouched position next to the fresh corpse. 'Possibly lead by a person called Zeneca. They wanted to be free.'
Moor's head turned, his featureless helmet scanning across the dead Mandalorians in the room.
'I suppose they are, now.'
There was heavy disgust and disdain in his voice. The only freedom for the weak was death.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
711 likes
addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
|
|
last online Mar 15, 2024 14:11:39 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 13, 2021 21:14:06 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Jun 13, 2021 21:14:06 GMT -5
[googlefont="News Cycle"]
Imago’s gaze shifted from the engineers to Moor to the man dying on the floor. They wanted to be free. Stars and void, whatever was that nonsense supposed to mean from the Mandalorian point of view? They were, as far as he know. Six years ago, out of pure greed, they had broken their beneficial alliance with the Empire to grasp at a few boarder worlds. All their troubles had been internal ones since.
Perhaps Moor had got it muddled somehow. Ripping information directly from an unwilling mind was a delicate process – and this knight did not strike him as a man with a delicate touch. He’d seen the Empress use such powers, a few times, even occasionally choosing to leave the subject very near to unharmed. He’d also seen her execute her political enemies in much the same way. Of course, everyone in the Empire was familiar with the execution of Darth Novus.
”A pity. Her Radiance will want to know what clan – or clans – that these hail from. Ascertain that for us, Moor.” Imago glanced at the Captain, inclining his head slightly as he thought over her suggestion.
”Very good. Ensign Tullia.” Imago produced a small token from his belt – an emerald eye lapel pin, removed and stowed before he’d fit into his armor. He flicked it to her. ”Come work for me if you survive this mess.” Impostor or not, engineer or not, he was sure he could find a use for anyone resourceful enough to survive the Brackett.
He and Captain Verdandi traced their way to the nearest lift. Deck 2 was a natural choice, with Cresh Team finishing up 3 and Darth Viren & apprentice still stomping around on 1. Imago grinned at the Captain as one of her men gave them just where to look.
”Ah, Crane might be our man. XO’s quarters and office, I’d imagine that’s, traditionally, the second nicest.” The lift let out into an arterial hallway. This portion of the ship was clearly battered as well, though not as badly as Deck 4. The dining hall was sealed off, vacuum on the other side. It necessitated a lengthy detour during which he casually popped open many of the private rooms. There was little to identify who owned what beyond the bars and tabs on the occasional uniform left out. He was curious if anything had been taken, if the rooms had been searched.
Had the Mandalorains known what this ship was carrying? Had they found it?
"What kind of man do you figure XO Crane for? Nova Deep clearance is a rare thing. They'll be wanting to replace him quick."
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ysmir
Are you okay?
279 posts
163 likes
BUSTAH WOLF!
|
|
last online Nov 14, 2023 13:09:53 GMT -5
Padawan
|
|
|
Jun 15, 2021 18:42:36 GMT -5
Post by Ysmir on Jun 15, 2021 18:42:36 GMT -5
Any who knew him, or the Sith for that matter, knew that his request was a reasonable one. As reasonable as any person was likely to get out of the Dark Lord.
So, to be rebutted in such a way was not met with the same relative kindness.
Viren's fingers curled inward toward his palm slowly, as though with effort, and the pressure around the Mandalorian raider grew fiercer. Soon, it began pressing down on her from all angles. Viren knew better than to try and bend pure Beskar. Even the mightiest Sith in the Galaxy -- a title which Viren himself held strong claim to -- would quake in their boots against such a task. So he targeted soft spots, areas where the armor broke to allow freedom of movement, and used her own armor as a vice grip to suffocate her with. A vibrating energy was felt throughout the Bridge as the Mandalorian was painfully constricted in a form of torture. Her struggling gasps weren't all she could manage, as Viren ensured to leave her throat untouched; her silence was defiance, pure and simple.
"You are resilient. Good. It will, at least, make things interesting," he mused, turning over his shoulder to Mazer and Iziwa. As he did, the Mandalorian struggled to lift her arm.
"Hail Stalwart Dusk. Inform them we will have prisoners that need processing," he commanded.
If it were up to the Mandalorian, then they'd never get the chance.
Her vambrace cocked subtly, the warrior grunted as she fired a wrist rocket toward the far wall of the Bridge. Viren's head whipped around a moment too late to notice it, dropping the warrior in his grip and holding both hands out to try and contain the explosion when the missile hit its mark and detonated. Unfortunately for all present, he was only partially successful.
The explosion rocked throughout the vessel as the already flimsy seals in the Bridge were busted wide open. A powerful suctioning force accompanied the opening of a fresh hole into the void of space, pulling all within outside. The first to go were the limp bodies; the corpses left behind by Mazer and Iziwa, and one of the two concussed and delirious Mandalorians Viren had dispatched. Viren planted both of his feet on the ground and grasped tightly onto the wall at his side with one hand, his grip so iron-like the tips of his armored fingers nearly dug into the plating. Pulled by the escaping oxygen, he fought with all his considerable might to not end up precisely how he predicted he may. Using his free hand, he latched onto the collar of the other unconscious Mandalorian with the cracked visor. He'd not leave this place empty-handed and be branded a failure all because of one suicidal intruder. All she could manage was one last defiant roar as she was pulled through the opening into the black expanse of space.
Meanwhile, the breach was accompanied throughout the ship by the sounding of distinctive alarm. The deck they occupied was placed under emergency lockdown; hermetic seals in the hallway outside the broken Bridge door engaged, ensuring that the damage and loss of oxygen was localized only to the Bridge and its connecting rooms.
|
|
|
|
|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 19, 2021 18:55:52 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jun 19, 2021 18:55:52 GMT -5
The two engineers watched as one of the Sith and the female soldier left the life support systems area. The one named Tullia was turning the lapel pin that had been tossed to her over in her hands. While there was certainly relief coming from them at the exit of these two, there was some measure of anxiety as well. Neither wanted to be left alone with that other one.
"Get back to work." Pellon said to the two, gesturing with his head toward the terminals.
Ensign Tullia complied, turning to resume her repairs. The other, however, hesitated. When he turned, Tullia saw that his eyes were sweeping over a rifle on the ground next to one of the dead Mandalorians. Tullia tried to shake her head at him without actually shaking her head. There was a long moment.
Idiot.
The man moved for the rifle, stooping and sweeping it up, making to point it at the Sith who stood at the other side of the room. Pellon had his own weapon up and was about to shout a warning, his finger squeezing the trigger. A shot rang out. The male engineer fell. As he did, Ensign Tullia became visible behind him, a small holdout blaster in her hand. She instantly dropped it, holding her hands up.
"I'm... almost done here." she said, slowly turning back to the terminal.
Two decks up, Verdandi moved in relative silence through the various rooms of Deck Two. She alternated lead with the Lord Inquisitor. They moved easily enough together. Verdandi, admittedly, didn't know too much about the Darth. She knew he'd been involved in a few hostile situations. But if pressed, Verdandi would not have likely pegged the Lord Inquisitor as one who often did the so-called "dirty work". A mistake, perhaps. As they came across bodies, Verdandi did her best to note their names and ranks, checking them against a crew list downloaded to her HUD.
Darth Imago's question gave Verdandi pause. As an instructor at the academy, she was often tasked with judging other soldiers, but these were always subordinates, and always in order to determine best placement for assignments or promotion. There were the gossip circles at social events she was obliged to attend due to her family's status, of course, but the gossips had long ago learned that Seraphina was not a good source to satisfy their nosy addiction. The question, to put it simply, made Verdandi a bit nervous. All the more so because she'd asked Mazer to look into the Nova Deep classification and that knight had threatened him for it. Did Lord Imago know about that? He must have known that she didn't have Nova Deep classification.
"In my experience, My Lord," she said, stepping around the Lord Inquisitor as they entered the XO's quarters, "people who make it into these higher administration roles are either incredibly hard working, well connected, or both." She swept her light around the room. It was clean and spare. Not much out of place. But then... there wasn't much to be out of place. They'd likely have to get up to One so that Lord Imago could get on that datapad and override the security clearance himself. "If Nova Deep is that rare, then probably the last one." She did one last turn, her eyes moving over the room. "I'm not seeing anything, My Lord."
A sudden rumble caused the whole ship to shudder and groan. The emergency lighting flickered overhead. Verdandi's leg spread out slightly to hold her balance. As soon as she was sure she wasn't about to fall over or be sucked into space, she was on her comms, calling for her team to report.
Mazer stumbled, slamming bodily into the comms console. He grabbed hold of it, waiting for the shaking to stop. That was a hole breach, certainly. A moment later, this was confirmed when the door to the comms room slammed shut. The rushing of air ceased, but the groaning of overtaxed durasteel continued. It seemed the Brackett had suffered one too many injuries. What little time they'd had, was now being cut even shorter. Not a moment later, Verdandi's voice rang out over their comms, calling for them all to report.
"Mazer, comms room, status green. Wrapping up transmission to Stalwart Dusk. Adding a mayday now."
"Iziwa." her voice was strained. "The Bridge is compromised. Astro..." There was slight static and a pause. When her voice returned, it was slightly less stressed. "Most of Deck One in complete vacuum now. I'm sealed and magboots engaged. Copying data from flight recorder now. Status green."
"Theran and Mosi status green. We've got the doc and the injured loaded onto the shuttle. Space is tight though, and the corridor was breached. I don't think we can get back to anyone. You might need an alternate."
"Pellon status green. The engineer said that blast fucked life support. Whatever we got, that's it."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
Jun 22, 2021 17:28:19 GMT -5
Post by Blue on Jun 22, 2021 17:28:19 GMT -5
Orders were orders, and with this one coming from such a high source, Moor would not be able to refuse even if he had a mind to. His knowledge on Madalorian culture was minimal, but at the very least he would be able to provide enough information for others to make a connection.
He hoped.
Failure was, after all, unacceptable.
The assassin roughly turned over the nearest body, looking for any symbols that might provide clues as to their clans. He did not expect much but, to his surprise, Moor recognized the clan emblems he saw from some previous missions that came into contact with them. One of the dead belonged to a clan called Awaud, while the other two hailed from Clan Chorn; both minor clans.
'From what I can see, the dead Mandalorians in life-support may have belonged to Clan Awaud and Chorn, my lord. I will retrieve their emblems as evidence,' Moor rasped into his comms, delivering on his task in a timely manner.
Before he could continue, there was a screech that echoed through the Force; a warning, impending danger. In a blur of motion, Moor whipped around, his lightsaber ignited, and the Force pointed like shards of glass at the location of the threat... but a blaster-shot sounded, and the threat fell, killed by his own companion. The assassin's attention shifted to her, seeing another threat, but she wisely dropped the weapon and returned to her duties.
The screeching in his head faded away, and Moor padded over to the rapidly cooling body of the "engineer". Kneeling beside it, he turned it over and began searching through its pockets, looking for any evidence of whom it might have been. Finding nothing, Moor frowned. No ident card, Imperial or otherwise. His featureless visor turned, locking onto the dead thing's erstwhile cohort.
Nothing is ever as it seems.
'Lord Imago, one of your... engineers just went for a weapon,' Moor informed the Darth. 'But the other one shot him dead. I will bring her for further questioning.'
This went unheard, spoken into the internal comms rather than out loud, and Moor returned to the other corpses, pulling off pieces of beskar like a battlefield ghoul.
The maybe-engineer soon reported the grim news. Soon we will all be gasping. Moor did not want to stay aboard this death trap. Nothing was as it seemed, and his fear was jabbing incessantly at his rotten soul.
'Awaiting further orders,' Moor spoke, unwilling to flee without sanction.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
711 likes
addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
|
|
last online Mar 15, 2024 14:11:39 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 27, 2021 20:45:21 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Jun 27, 2021 20:45:21 GMT -5
[googlefont="News Cycle"]
The XO’s quarters were something of a disappointment. Clean and utilitarian. If anyone had searched the room before them, it showed little sign of it. Imago cast a curious look at his … Bodyguard? Minder? He could sense her discomfort, though to her credit, little of it showed upon her face. Perhaps she had some prior history with Crane.
Her answer was carefully neutral, though. Boring, really. The Lord Inquisitor stepped back out of the room, glancing down the hallway, staring up at bulkheads. The space didn’t seem to quite add up, a realization that raised the fine hairs on the back of his neck.
”Ah. As I understand, your family is quite well connected as well. And you certainly seem … Industrious.” He let the thought hang in the air, less an offer and more of a vague suggestion. It usually didn’t take much to stir up ambition in the Empire’s servants, and Captain Verdandi was interesting to him. Certainly, she was of an age and social station that made dangerous fieldwork such as this and odd choice.
He’d asked only to satisfy that curiosity. Strange that she’d squirmed.
The entire ship seemed to heave a great sigh. Imago braced himself in the doorway for a moment and opened his mouth to tell the Captain to never mind his bothersome questions. He shut it again, hearing her voice twice over as she called for her team.
A thin seam had opened in the wall within XO Crane’s quarters, a shadow picked out by the flickering lights. As he watched, it disappeared again as the ship settled. Brushing forward, Imago reached out for the hidden panel, feeling out all the delicate moving pieces that it connected to. Unpowered, now. He drew his lightsaber and took it to the wall, crude but quick work.
”I will require only a few moments more. Please avert your eyes, Captain.” Crouching awkwardly to duck within, he maneuvered carefully past the molten edges and into the hidden compartment. The space beyond was cramped by design, containing little more than a single desk and chair. Resting upon the surface was the asset. Had the invaders breached this secret place in the days they’d been here?
It would take a more specialized skillset than he possessed to answer that. Imago carefully disconnected the device from its trailing wires and folded up the case around it. With the whole assembly folded under his arm, he rejoined Captain Verdandi. Her cohort’s news of overcrowded ships and impassable corridors was unwelcome. He did not want the Praetor Magnus to feel unduly tempted by the case, after all. It would only be natural to feel that way – and worse every moment that Imago remained dependent upon his shuttles or ships.
”Very good, Moor. Cresh team will lead us out. I have the asset in hand.” He spoke into his comm device, clipped and precise, falling back on old habits in times of stress. Tilting his head toward the Captain, he signaled difference to her in this final matter of escape.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jun 28, 2021 22:07:41 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jun 28, 2021 22:07:41 GMT -5
Verdandi didn't have the time to properly process the Lord Inquisitor's observation of her own social status and work ethic. All the better she didn't. The middle of a ship being torn apart was not an ideal place to worry about whether one was being insulted or complimented by a member of the Inner Sanctum. Neither option was safe, really, and her brain power was needed to ensure their asses didn't get sucked into space. The options moved through her mind, competing for her attention with the relief at hearing all of her team check in and the sight of the Lord Inquisitor cutting into a wall with his lightsaber.
The ship lurched again. This time, the groaning of metal carried on for several long seconds. It was a terrible thing to listen to. Eliciting the kind of primal dread that a soldier could never truly shake off or train away. "My Lord, I'm sorry but we're out of ti-"
Lord Imago had returned from whatever he'd been doing. He'd collected some kind of case, it seemed. The short glance allowed back into the room revealed a hole in the wall and a small space beyond. It didn't matter. He was ready to move, and that was exactly what they needed to do. "This way." she said, and then began to jog down the corridor.
Over the comms, Mazer confirmed the Stalwart Dusk had received their mayday and were sending another shuttle. This one, however, would have to access the ship via the cargo bay. "Received. Theran, Mosi, get on that shuttle and get those wounded out of here. Everyone else, Cargo Deck. Pellon, be ready with breach charges just in case. Mazer, Iziwa, you've got what you got. No heroes."
The doors to the stairway shuddered as they opened. Vardandi moved through them quickly. The Bracket wasn't particularly large ship, but every second counted when it was peeling apart around you. She let her blaster's sling take the weight of the weapon as she dropped it, reaching instead for her sidearm. To this, she affixed her grappling hook. From her belt, she took two clips. She slammed one against a connector plate on the chest plate of the Lord Inquisitor's armor, then repeated for herself with the other. She fired the grappling hook into the wall. At this point blank distance, it lodged deep and held strong. She re-holstered the sidearm in its repel position so that it could continue to feed out the line. Verdandi took the line in and and fed it through her clip. Finally, she gestured for Lord Imago as she swung a leg over the railing.
"Wait three seconds, then follow me down." she said as she fed the line through his clip. Hoping that the Lord Inquisitor would need no further instruction to save his own skin, she bounced back from the railing and began her controlled fall down the stairway shaft. She landed with a huff of air, then stepped to the side as she unclipped and then loosed the line from her sidearm. the smooth, well practiced movements left plenty of time for the Darth to land free of obstacle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
Jul 4, 2021 14:42:19 GMT -5
Post by Blue on Jul 4, 2021 14:42:19 GMT -5
Under the mask, Moor's facial expression surged with relief. With the Nova Deep asset acquired, he could finally leave this death trap, and no longer would he be under the oppressive aura of two Inner Sanctum members. Another dangerous mission, another close escape. Tempered, alive.
Wordlessly, the assassin gestured to the exit of life-support with his head, indicating that the soldier and the so-called engineer were to proceed ahead of him. The soldier wasted no time and turned to leave, while the engineer hesitated for a moment before rushing after them as Moor's hand drifted towards his lightsaber.
Despite his fears, the trip towards the escape shuttle proved remarkably uneventful. Though every creak and shudder caused his focus to sharpen almost painfully, nothing terrible occurred... at least, right up until they had almost reached the hanger.
Jogging down a hallway, there was a sudden high-pitched shriek, which quickly shifted into an ear-splitting boom as something on the vessel finally gave. All three of them were thrown up into the air by a concussive force and stayed there as the gravity failed. They lingered, weightless, for a few seconds that seemed like a lifetime, before a force shot them all towards a new hole in the Bracket's hull.
The soldier, still calm despite mortal peril springing upon them, grabbed a grapnel launcher and fired it towards the nearest doorway, anchoring them to the ship. Moor's hand lashed out and gripped at the soldier's foot, saving himself. The engineer, however, tumbled head over heel towards the endless expanse of the void.
His heart beating a thousand times a minute, Moor's memory recalled that this person was someone for whom he was responsible; they could not die. If they died, he might die. Failure was death. FAILURE IS DEATH!
The assassin's arm reached out, and the engineer stopped their powerless spin into the stars. As the Force caused them to freeze mid-jettison, Moor looked over further down the corridor and saw, to his horror, a set of blast-doors slowly stuttering closed as the ship attempted to rectify the sudden danger to its corpse. The soldier was already dragging them towards the closing portal, but they were not going to make it.
With a gesture, the engineer went flying forwards and slammed into the ground of the hallway, behind the closing door. Next, Moor catapulted himself forwards, rolling to kill his momentum and bracing himself against the seam of the entranceway. Finally, he reached and pulled the soldier in after them, swiftly forcing the blast-doors to close after they were all safe.
Can't risk anyone saying I made a mistake. Soldier dies, a mistake. Prisoner dies, a mistake. Only my death would be acceptable... just not to me.
'M-my leg... I think it's broken,' the engineer said, looking down at the twisted limb, but was quickly cut off as Moor grabbed her and hoisted her up onto his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, his wiry frame made strong by his ongoing burst of adrenaline and a strong jolt of Dark Side energy.
'Move,' Moor hissed to the soldier, not waiting to see if they followed. He had done his part; if they were too slow, then he could at least justify that.
Together, they were finally able to rush into the hanger. Safety in sight.
Can't die, won't die. Can't die, won't die. Can't die, won't die. Can't die, won't die...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Meira
She don't mess around
2,830 posts
583 likes
Half awake in our fake empire
|
|
last online May 11, 2023 23:01:34 GMT -5
Administrator
|
|
|
Jul 16, 2021 11:36:17 GMT -5
Post by Meira on Jul 16, 2021 11:36:17 GMT -5
Theren glanced back at Mosi. The two were assessing the blocked passageway when Verdandi's orders came through. She could see that his jaw had tightened. His mouth was a thin line. She felt the same way. The idea of abandoning their team put a sour taste in her mouth. But this debris would take a long time to clear, not to mention all the faulty doors and whatnot between them and everyone else. The ship was making it very clear that they simply didn't have the time.
As if to illustrate that very point, another jolt threatened to knock her off balance and the wall to her left peeled away. Theran already had her magboots engaged, but the force of the vacuum pulled her painfully sideways. It took all her strength to right herself and move back toward Mosi. Behind a bulkhead, he'd managed to avoid the body bending force of the sudden decompression. Together, they plodded back to the shuttle's airlock and collapsed inside. A moment later, the ship decoupled and pulled away.
"Shuttle away." Theran said over comms, then let her head fall back against the wall. Hurry the hell up, she added mentally.
In the comms room, Mazer wasn't exactly disobeying Verdandi's orders. It wasn't his fault the files were taking so long to copy. Yes, she said to take what he'd gotten and get out. But... if he disconnected now, he'd have nothing. There simply wasn't any other option. If he wanted to complete the mission, he'd have to wait. Drumming his fingers on the top of the console, he willed the datapad to work faster. Perhaps he could use these agonizing seconds as proof that it was time to upgrade his equipment. When it did finally sound the tone signifying a complete download, Mazer wasted no time. Wires were pulled and gear was securely stored. The door gave him some grief; kind of it to assume he didn't actually want to walk out into the vacuum of space. But Iziwa was already on the other side, working on the manual override. Once she had him out, the two made their way to the stairwell. Their descent was nearly identical to Verdandi and Darth Imago's, and the two landed neatly only seconds behind their Captain and her charge.
Pellon, having survived his first space walk in a rather unusual manner, was panting on the floor. While his armor had protected him from the elements -or lack thereof- and the Knight's rough manipulations of the force, that didn't mean it didn't still hurt like hell to be thrown like that. The Knight's command to move, however, cut through the dull ache and the loud thump of his own pulse in his ears. The training kicked in and he was on his feet, jogging behind the strange man carrying the engineer.
At the end of the corridor, a heavy blast door sat firmly closed. As they neared, Pellon assessed the door. It was several layers thick and a manual override would take time and training beyond what he had readily available. If Iziwa was with him, that might be a different story, but she wasn't. The kind of charges that could clear the door by brute force would, unfortunately, also be the kind that would send them careening into space again. Pellon concluded that would be counter productive. But maybe...
"One moment." he said to the Knight, stepping over to the controls. Blowing the mechanism would do no good. Failure there would simply set the doors to their default locked state. Which was where they already were. But if he could get a bit deeper, maybe he could interrupt the magnetic seal. He placed one of his smallest charges on the controls console, then gestured for the Knight to move back with him. "Breaching!" he said, just before the charge ignited. The explosion was small and precise, enough to knock the control panel from the wall expose the wiring and mechanism behind it.
Pellon rushed forward, yanking out more wires and opening up the space enough for him to stick his own head partially into the wall. It took a moment, but he found what he was looking for. Stepping back, he pointed to a specific place on the wall. "Here." he said to the Knight. "Your... sword. Push all the way in here."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
last online Nov 19, 2022 17:21:47 GMT -5
Knight
|
|
|
Jul 17, 2021 15:50:46 GMT -5
Post by Blue on Jul 17, 2021 15:50:46 GMT -5
The assassin was all but drunk on adrenalin and Dark Side power, pulling more of the latter into himself to keep his body moving. He had been trained under the harshest conditions, and his stamina was not something easily underestimated, but he was still mortal. Moor would pay a heavy price once all was said and done, but for now he would borrow every ounce of strength he could if it meant he could escape the flagging vessel alive.
Losing the maybe-engineer was a possible condition to his survival after the mission, so as much as he desired to simply dump her and run, it was not an option.
And if I succeed in spite of these obstacles, more acclaim will be mine. Never a bad thing...
Diverted from the hanger to the cargo bay, a new obstacle was suddenly thrown into their path that Moor could not simply smash through: a blast door. Fear spiked through him, and the assassin put the engineer roughly onto the ground and took out his lightsaber. I'll cut through this if I have to. It will take too long... NO. Anything, do anything!
Before he could begin cutting, however, the soldier asked for a moment. They had been somewhat useful, so Moor was willing to give them a chance. Slicing through a blast door with a lightsaber was hardly practical, so if a feasible alternative was presented...
A small explosion later, and a simple instruction was given. Moor wasted no time and ignited his lightsaber, stabbing into the wall at the precise spot the soldier indicated. There was an electric hiss and a flurry of sparks jumped from the hole, then a tense silence. But a few seconds later, the blast door began to grind open; unwilling, but inevitable.
Dragging the injured engineer back over his shoulders, Moor dashed forwards towards the cargo hold. In all honesty, he was mildly surprised that she had been so compliant, but then again, fear for one's life made a person's mindset very malleable.
When the shuttle came into sight, it took all of Moor's self-control not to gasp in relief. Without checking to see if anyone else had made it yet, the assassin charged up the ramp and heaved the engineer onto a seat, before proceeding to stand at the door to keep guard for any more threats.
It would be the foulest of jokes for more Mandalorians to appear and try to destroy their only hope of escape, and Moor was determined not to die for a punchline.
|
|
|
|
|