Sunbringer
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Post by Sunbringer on Nov 8, 2020 15:01:35 GMT -8
 It is the height of the Mandalorian Crusades under Mand'alor Ashrah Intalbo. Throughout the galaxy, Mandalorian liaisons have been dispatched with license from Mandalore to disrupt supply operations and sow discord on many fronts for the purpose of distraction within the factions of Force users and to instill bad faith among civilian populaces that are supposed to be under the protection of these empires. Ashrah perpetuates these actions in the name of restoring the galaxy to a natural, rather than supernatural, order.
Amid the far reaches of the Eastern Outer Rim, Faust Skirata commands a picket fleet of starships. He has established a base of operations in the Tharin sector, not far from the Nimat system. While conducting a routine visit to Junkfort Station, reconnaissance reports a YT-1300 freighter loaded with a sizable military shipment originating from Merr-Sonn Munitions, Inc.
In the name of Mand'alor and in the interest of procuring fresh equipment for his supercommando troops, Faust tracks the vessel to the neighboring Shadola sector, pursuing it as far as the Gand system. Unaware of its status as prey, the cargo ship simply attempts to safely complete its delivery... [/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] *The Precipitant Spark emerges from hyperspace. A stock YT-1300 freighter, it has clamped in its fore mandibles a train of six cargo containers, emblazoned with the pixelized interwoven ring logo of Merr-Sonn Munitions, Inc. The ship has traveled from the Tingel Arm without incident on its journey so far. Within the cockpit, the captain of the vessel - Herschel Fritz - allows himself a mental sigh of relief as the rocky planet looms ahead. His co-pilot, an aqua-skinned female Twi'lek by the name of Saara Boon, sets the craft to autopilot and habitually flips a toggle to transmit the ship's license and information to air control before being heralded.*
*Herschel has never been a fan of shipping materiel. Foodstuffs and civilian equipment, sure. Those types of cargo are straightforward, they require a minimal amount of paperwork, and the chain of custody is never in question. Military stuff, on the other hand, always needs special permits, end-to-end handoff signatures, and tons more red tape. Not to mention that the contents themselves tend to be eye-catching to both pirates and corrupt local authorities. And the ever-present threat of the occasionally volatile contents threatening to blast the Spark into oblivion, if run-ins go south and laser fire goes flying. The more the spacer thinks about it, the more he finds himself leaning more and more towards pacifism. It won't pay as handsomely, but credits aren't the be-all, end-all.*[/font] *Saara remarks.* "I sent our ping on open channels, but Gand spaceport hasn't responded."[/ul] *Herschel shakes his head.*[/font][/ul] *He pulls out the datapad with the shipping manifest and delivery notes. It had struck his curiosity that the drop point was called out by coordinates rather than an actual city name, but rationalizing this observation with a low-tech species made a lot of sense. The left corner of his mouth pinches into his cheek as he gives a slight frown.*[/font][/ul] |
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Post by Faust Skirata on Nov 17, 2020 11:17:18 GMT -8
Faust Skirata awoke with a gasping sob, bolting upright before his eyes had even opened. His right hand held his dirk aloft in a death grip, heartbeat pulsing through his fingers, warding away some unseen threat. Slowly, the waking world filtered into focus, and the remnants of whatever terror had gripped him began slipping away. His eyes gradually adjusted to the gloom, bringing the spartan interior of his cabin into blurred- but welcome- relief.
His ragged breathing finally calmed as he swung his legs over the edge of his cot and shook his head, trying to clear away a dream already forgotten. Gone save the smell of blood and a hushed whisper. "K'uur, adika,". Realizing he was gripping his bedsheets, twisting the fabric between white knuckles, the shekemir snorted in disgust and surged to his feet.
Solace was found in the rituals of preparation- the donning of armor and tools of worship. The cold weight of his beskar hauberk, pinching and chafing against the bare flesh beneath it, was more real than any phantom, and as the reassuring weight of the Grimhammer settled into place on his back, he'd all but forgotten the fear that had plucked him from his slumber.
Alor'ad Grukkuh was waiting for him on the bridge of the Keldabe-class battleship Bes'Ad, his polished 'gam shining nearly as brightly as the tunnel of hyperspace outside the view port. "Sucuy gar, shekemir be Harangir." he said stiffly, a mockery of formality, making no effort to hide a derisive sneer. Around him, officers cast Faust icy glances before looking away, pointedly ignoring his presence.
The priest had quickly grown accustomed to the distrust exhibited by his vode, and while they seemed determined to adhere to some farce of professionalism, Faust was not. "Din'kartay."
"We will reach Gand in approximately forty-five minutes. Our navigators estimate the freighter has about an hour lead on us, so it's likely it will have already made it planetside by then. I've taken the liberty of preparing a shuttle for you- one of the Meteor-classes, if that suits you." Abruptly, Grukkuh turned away from him to face the transparisteel display.
Faust grinned at his back, amused at the display of hostility. Weak. Childish.
Futile.
"I'll be taking a squad with me, as well."
"Bal'ban," the alor'ad answered without turning around. "They're already assembled in the hangar bay- you'd best be off."
"Jate." the priest chuckled, turning on his heel.
Once the doors to the turbo lift had hissed shut behind him, Grukkuh shook his head in disdain. "Kriffing dinii."
The navigator nearest him simply nodded, gaze never leaving the glowing screen of his terminal.
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Sunbringer
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Post by Sunbringer on Nov 17, 2020 20:11:17 GMT -8
Ori'kando kaysh ijaat, jat'ad. N'alor haalu pakodyc ures buirkan. [/font] *Herschel commented quietly, as of yet unaware of the pursuit craft that had dialed in their coordinates and would be in pursuit before long. The Precipitant Spark and her cargo load reverberate with displeasure as the outer reaches of atmosphere stretch out to embrace them.*[/ul] *It was to their very great benefit that the Mandalorians were not in hot pursuit. With the nose mandibles loaded up with tons of cargo, the speed of the YT-1300 was nowhere near the capability that one might expect. Furthermore, upon entry into atmosphere, the ship would be completely incapable of performing evasive maneuvers. Aerodynamic she ain't, in this configuration. As it is, the hour-long lead time which the spacers had on the disembarking Mandalorian squad was sure to evaporate quickly.*[/font][/ul] *A moment or two later, and a couple button flicks after, Saara nodded her compliance. On a linear course to their destination coordinates, the Precipitant Spark sails smoothly toward an intermittent sea of clouds below. Herschel pats the cockpit ceiling with a grin crossing his face.*[/font][/ul] *Saara pores over the ship computer display screen for a moment, then rises from her chair. She leaves the cockpit briefly and returns with two breath masks in hand. Sitting back down, she affixes hers over her nose and mouth and then turns to Herschel.*[/font][/ul] *What Saara read from the console is correct: Gand's atmosphere is predominantly a nitrogen-oxygen-ammonia mixture with some low levels of argon and other trace gases. The Gand insectoid species has evolved into two distinct branches: one that breathes ammonia, and one that does not feature any respiratory organs at all (but is nourished by ammonia). The atmosphere itself is partially responsible for the low level of technology available on the planet: ammonia, especially in thermally abundant environments and especially when activated by an oxidizing gas, has corrosive effect on a significant number of metals and alloys. Exposure times on the order of hours probably won't have a noticeable effect, but prolonging that number to days will lead to embrittlement, loss of integrity, and even disintegration, depending on the material. Some materials can be given a chemical treatment to enhance their resistance to nitriding, but that is a specialized process. Additionally, ammonia doesn't interfere with sensors, nor does it dephase blaster cannon bolts.*
*Breaking through the troposphere, the Spark and its crew are treated to a mid-afternoon, hot summer day on Gand. The sun is fuzzed and obscured by the haziness of the atmosphere. Across the rocky desert landscape, outstanding specimens of geological formations have cropped up over millennia. Arches, spires, mesas, canyons. Herschel and Saara are pleased to have the luxury of navigating on autopilot: it gives them the chance to admire the scenery. They dare not drop too low in altitude, however. The visibility is too low, and his maneuverability is too compromised by the cargo he is pushing. Thick cloudbanks of Gand's spectacular ammonia mists flank them on either side, almost as if supernaturally guiding their way to the drop point.*
*After so long in awe-inspired silence interrupted only by under-the-breath whispers of "Wow," and "Neat," it is a proper shock to have the ship's beacon finally answered. A transmitted comm message splits the tranquil voyage, and a distinctly crispy voice speaks.*[/font][/ul] *A smile crosses Saara's lips beneath her breath mask. Herschel, on the other hand, notices a blip on the Precipitant Spark's long-range scanners. A ship has just emerged from hyperspace in the Gand system. That alone is notable, for the lack of space traffic here. But what has caught his attention is that it dropped into realspace along the same vector they themselves had done. Perhaps this is merely fickle circumstance, perhaps this is nothing. But his gut tells him otherwise.*[/font][/ul] |
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
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Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Dec 1, 2020 8:01:50 GMT -8
Five of his vode awaited him in the hangar bay: Katariah Beviin, Costa Fett, the brothers Janse and Saris Skirata, and Fraljia Beviin. They were gathered around a running shuttle, seated on crates or, in the case of Fraljia, leaning against one of the landing struts, sharpening her bes'bev.
Janse sighted him first, rising to his feet and heaving an exasperated sigh. "M'are."
"Alor'ad gives me five soldiers? Generous." Faust said as his brothers began filing up the ramp.
"Fret not, shekemyc'ad'ika," Katariah remarked, patting his shoulder as she passed him by. "I'm worth fifty."
Costa snorted. "Surprised he's letting us go at all."
"Not his call. Ashrah made that clear on Mandayaim." said the priest, following the huge Concordian native up into the belly of the Meteor-class troopship.
"We're a long way from the Mandalor now, Faust. You'd do well to remember that."
The roar of sublight engines and the jostle of their departure discouraged any further conversation on the matter. It wasn't until they were free from the Bes'Ad and streaking down toward the planet that the commotion began to settle.
"The Gand aren't going to like having their supplies stolen." Janse murmured. In the dim light of the cabin his silvery eyes seemed to float untethered in the gloom. He didn't have to elaborate to get his point across: opposition and reprisal were both likely.
"Thisss one protests." Katariah hissed jokingly, mocking the Gand's speech patterns.
"Laugh all you want. I've fought their Guild Hunters before."
"And there you sit, alive and as snide as ever."
"Enough," Faust growled suddenly. "You're giving me a headache."
Silence followed his command for a long moment, until Katariah hung her head. "Thisss one is sssorry." Mechanical cackling erupted from half a dozen buyces simultaneously, mixing with the jangling of armor as the cabin of super commandos shook with laughter.
Faust laughed with them, the throbbing pain in his skull momentarily forgotten and unaware that, in the long years to come, he would be looking back on this as the moment his last, fleeting grip on normalcy escaped him forever.
The crackle of the intercom brought an abrupt end to that moment. "Landfall in ten."
"You think spaceport security will intervene?" Janse asked of no one in particular.
Faust shrugged. "Nayc, but it won't matter if they do."
"And if they've already unloaded their cargo? I'm not hoversled certified, you know."
"For kriff's sake Janse," Costa growled. "We're less than an hour behind them. They won't even be finished filling out paperwork yet."
That seemed to mollify the Echani, at least for the moment. Faust was grateful; the dull pain behind his eyes was starting to throb.
The shuttle rocked as it breached Gand's atmosphere.
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Sunbringer
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Gathering intel and evacuating a team from Kuat Drive Yards
Posts: 53
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Post by Sunbringer on Dec 1, 2020 11:24:13 GMT -8
Ara'novor'anay lise'naasta. [/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] *The 'Precipitant Spark' approaches the perimeter of Descera Nest.*
*Situated abutting one of the many protruding rock formations on Gand's landscape, Descera itself is fairly nondescript as far as architecture is concerned. Incorporation of local resources means that, as far as color and texture goes, Descera is camouflaged. The structures extend into the body of the cliff face, providing natural protection. Highest of all buildings is the governing hall of the colony. The Marketplace and numerous civic buildings sprawl out before it, domes and ramparts repeating frequently in the engineering motifs of the town area. Spaced away from the heart of it all is a solitary spire crowning the peak formation: that is the air traffic control tower for Descera Nest. It overlooks a sandswept plain below, on the outskirts of the settlement, encircled by a primitive energized fence that stretches all the way around the local peak.*
*The 'Spark' is directed to land in that area, below the tower. Clearly, this is what Descera Nest perceives to be a passable spaceport. And, Herschel notes, apparently also a junkyard. The partially-skeletonized remains of a Firespray-class patrol craft makes an uncomfortable landing pad neighbor. He guides the YT-1300 down onto the hard-packed dirt terrain with a well-practiced hand.*
*He descends the ramp to be greeted by a trio of spaceport officials. Further away, a Gand merchant with a small gaggle of warehouse workers in tow await the arrival business to conclude. Herschel glances behind him, where Saara is emerging from the vessel with a datapad containing the manifest already in hand. He waves her forward to the customs agent, smiling and nodding as he'd done a hundred times before.*[/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] *Faust and his entourage aboard the Meteor-class Q-Carrier experience the same lack of communication that Herschel and Saara did, not long beforehand. This particular class of dropship has been in use for over three millennia. The venerable design will convey its affiliation immediately to anyone with basic knowledge of starship design, and the Gand - though not often to fraternize with Mandalorians - are nevertheless going to recognize it.*
*As they approach the colony where the 'Spark' had headed, the craft is hailed by air traffic control from Descera Nest. An unusually busy day, no doubt.*[/i]-class transport, speaking is Descera Nest. Identify your purpose for arrival on Gand. ::[/font][/ul] |
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Faust Skirata
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I'm the Juggernaut, bitch.
Posts: 203
Affiliation: The Priesthood
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Post by Faust Skirata on Dec 2, 2020 13:04:08 GMT -8
As the distance between their shuttle and the Spark continued to dwindle, the five Mandalorians began readying themselves: buyce were donned, environmental seals triple checked, weapons procured. Their mission briefing, which had occurred as soon as the Spark's eventual destination was deduced, had been laughably short, but Gand's lack of breathable oxygen had at least been mentioned, as well as the corrosive effect ammonia had on metals and electronics. "Not our beskar, of course," they had been assured. Costa, in his powered armor, was the only one who seemed perturbed, unsure how long his suit's electrical systems would remain uncompromised.
"Should've been hailed by now," Saris grunted.
He wasn't wrong. The Meteor's scanners indicated the Spark had stopped moving, and now they were nearly on top of them. "Maybe they're just going to shoot us out of the sky." Katariah theorized.
"Maybe you let me do the talking." Fraljia shot back without looking up.
The fact that they were essentially flying blind, with no clue where they were going or what exactly awaited them, didn't seem to bother the soldiers any more than it did Faust. Their orders were to retrieve supplies to fuel Ashrah's war machine; details on how or from where weren't part of their purview.
'Ah, but it's more than that, isn't it?' Faust mused, and nearly burst out laughing. He wasn't sure why. The pain in his skull was making his thoughts foggy, almost jumbled. Despite this, he felt he was correct. Their lack of concern stemmed from an integral part of their shared psychology and culture. What is danger to those who hope to die? What is collateral damage to those who would Crusade? Everything outside of their now singular purpose was just…'Detritus. Motes of dust caught in a sunbeam and scattered by our passage.'
Faust blinked, unsure where such a thought had come from.
When the comm eventually chimed to life with the spaceport's query, Fraljia held up a finger, still staring down at her feet, and synced her helm's commlink with the shuttle's. "Retrieval mission, Nest. We've tracked a freighter in possession of stolen supplies belonging to the Mandalorian Empire. Under the authority of Mandalor Ashrah Intalbo, our orders are to apprehend the thieves and return them- and the supplies- to Mandalore. Please be advised that any interference will be treated as an attack against the Empire." Fraljia paused for a moment, Faust guessed to give the Gand time to process the information, before she continued: "Any assistance you can offer, however, would be greatly appreciated. If you can detain the YT-1300 freighter that just arrived, I will make a special note of your helpfulness in my report to the Mandalor."
On that note, she killed her mic. Costa let out a low whistle and started a slow clap that was cut short by a stiff jab to the side of his helmet.
"Jate, ner tat." Faust said absentmindedly. "Descera Nest. Wonder if it's a town or just a spaceport."
Katariah pointed out of the viewport and snorted. "Looks like it's a rock, shekemyc'ad'ika."
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Sunbringer
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Gathering intel and evacuating a team from Kuat Drive Yards
Posts: 53
Affiliation: The Son of Suns
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Post by Sunbringer on Dec 3, 2020 10:35:34 GMT -8
Salyc drash'arpad copyc vhett, sol'yc ven'hokaani. [/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] [/font][/ul] *The reply comes immediately, but the tone in which the words are conveyed is wholly neutral. An indication of compliance? Resistance? A translator being used that is incapable of picking up on the subtleties of vocal nuance?*[/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] *The interior of the tower spire is not busy. On the communications level, only four Gand operate. The room itself is illuminated solely by natural light streaming in through portholes carved in the rock. Clouds of dust ebb and flow along vectors created by the natural airflow, billowing between the rays shining through the windows, scattering light in a diffuse glow.*
*Placid though it may be, the Gand working here remain diligent. Culturally, the urge to kick back in a chair and rest one's feet on the desk is an abhorrent desire. Their compound eyes unwaveringly gaze at several screens apiece, monitoring everything. When the Mandalorian's message is uttered over the comm system manned by one of the Gand, within moments it has been relayed to the spaceport officials who are conducting business with Herschel and Saara at this very moment.*
[/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] *The conveyed message reaches one of the auxiliary companions of the head customs official. He listens to the comm. Taking a few steps down the YT-1300's boarding ramp, he peers toward the mandible rack currently being unloaded of its cargo containers. Printed boldly on the side of the containers is the blue-and-gold emblem of Merr-Sonn Munitions. Taking a few more steps down the ramp, he approaches the merchant Gand. At the moment, that Gand is watching Herschel operate the exterior controls to the mandible racks - a repulsorlift-assisted system. Necessary; the weight of six fully loaded cargo containers would be sufficient to tip the Precipitant Spark off balance, were it not for the anti-grav tech. The cargo containers are being loaded onto hoversleds driven by some of the Gand who'd been in the company of the merchant when the Spark first set down.*
*Tapping the shoulder of the merchant to get his attention, the Gand official begins clicking away in their native tongue. He holds out the datapad containing the manifest, which Saara had given to the trio upon arrival. The merchant replies back, also speaking in Gand, and shakes his head. Satisfied, the official nods and turns back to the ramp to rejoin the other two.*
[/font] *Herschel asks the merchant, not lifting his eyes from the control pad. The second of the cargo containers is released from the maglock, coming to rest on the bed of a hoversled positioned mere inches below. It bobs under the weight.*[/ul] [/font] *comes the deep, gravelly reply.* "Morassin Geyem will take care of everything."[/ul] [/i][/font][/ul] *He doesn't get the chance to clarify, either. A third hoversled revs up to the loading zone, and the merchant Gand walks away, calling out to the other hoversled drivers in Gand, and making gestures with one arm.*
[/b][/ul][/ul][/font][/font] [/font][/ul] *This comm transmission comes after about a minute's silence on the channel. In the meantime, a pair of Gand starfighters have been mobilized from Descera command. These become visible on the scope of the Meteor-class carrier before they are within line of sight: they come from a hangar bay nestled into a grotto of the mountain itself, from the far side of the settlement.*[/font][/ul] |
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