Retaliators

[DarthTofu]

OOC: I got bored with waiting for other people to notice "Resistance Cells" in here, so I'm just going to start the RPG. If nobody else joins I have a fairly good plot planned out for my guy already, so I'll havot it alone... Because everyone else was too lazy to join.

 

IC: I jumped to the side as another chunk of Nal Hutta smashed into the road before me. My black and silver armor absorbed the shock of a few stray pebbles without incident, but I really didn't feel like testing the material against those Plasma ejecta that were causing the destruction.

 

The only safe place at the moment was the sewer or, relatively speaking, in one of the refugee ships making a break for it. I would have loved to take my third option, my own ship, but unfortunately it appeared that refugees has beaten me to my modified blastboat and appropriated anything useful by way of launch gear from it. A pile of bodies near it stood honor to my ship's defenses, but overwhelming numbers had taken those down as well as my sub-light engines and repulsors. The former would be difficult to replace, the latter simple enough. Assuming I survived.

 

More ejecta rained down and I continued to run with no clear-cut destination. I had no intention of standing and fighting, or even fighting in the first place if I could help it. This was a powerful force, and one that the Mandalore was planning on goading along under a pretended alliance. A smile cracked my lips.

 

Maybe I should be fighting them. The fact that I was an outcast from the society, one who traditionally broke honor codes and the like, sometimes just for what appeared to be the fun of it, my further the Mandalorian cause. Yet again: Assuming I wasn't killed.

 

A massive crater the size of a small apartment erupted twenty meters in front of me as a coralskipper spiraled, out of control, into the street. The blast sent bodies and parts of bodies flying, eliminating any nearby traffic problems. I quietly thanked both the dead pilot and the one who'd shot him down as I felt I might owe them both something. Maybe a large something.

 

At the lowest point of the crater, below its relative meniscus, was a minuscule access point to the sewers. Not large enough for a high degree of traffic, and certainly not large enough for half of the species trapped on this world to squeeze through, but at the moment it was a quick, unobstructed entrance to safety. The only issue was that the entirety of the crater still glowed red and white with heat, with the occasional mixture of Vong plasma along its length.

 

I shrugged and jumped as far as I naturally was capable, aiming for the small hole in the center. My aim was fairly close, and when I was within a meter of the crater's surface I gave a quick, short blast of my jet pack's thrusters to carry me the necessary distance to slide smoothly into the hole.

 

I landed with a splash in what, according to my helmet's HUD was slightly toxic sewage. The fact that a bit of stench came in through my helmet's filtered air intake indicated how bad the air quality was down here.

 

I glanced above to where ships were being obliterated as they ran for safety and people were turned to steam in massive bursts of energy. Bad air wasn't as bad as it could have been.

 

I turned from the scene and ran again, aimlessly down the sewer searching for any survivors I might find.

[Krytos]

IC: An explosion ripped open the ground, sending debris flying. Instincts and training kicked in as the soldier dived out of harms way. Rolling up onto his knee, he flicked his carbine up and shouldered it.

The New Republic soldier peered down the iron sites of the deadly weapon, surveying the perimeter as he glanced over it. Data streamed in through the HUD of his helmet, searching for a threat. As the soldier looked on with eyes, the helmet looked on with more – thermal, infra-red, motion, EM, life signs sensors and more augmented what the soldier saw.

But nothing appeared in the jungle that stood 200 metres away. Vong warriors, the patient ones, were known to get as close as 50 metres before triggering the sensors – and that was usually just a sensor flicker, dismissed by the soldier as a glitch. The enemy would then be pouncing from around their cover, throwing thud and razor bugs as they closed the distance and began to strike with their snake like pole arm. Any New Republic soldier knew, the best chance of fighting a Vong warrior was at range.

Reacting again, the soldier's hand flicked down to his waist and the belt that wrapped around it. Skimming past his side arm, the soldier's hand dived straight into an armoured pouch retrieving an attachable scope. Though these weren't like older telescopic sites added to weapons, these were field enhancers – designed to augment the user's view when looking threw them. Not only would it allow the user to see father than the naked eye, or the zooming function of the soldier's helmet, but it would also enhance thermal, EM and life sign detection. He retrieved the scope and brought it to the bridge of his carbine, attaching it, and promptly searched the forest again.

“Ha ha, a bit jumpy are we Marks? Don't worry, that was just a stray plasma blast from a few k's off. The fact that the projectile landed within 10 metres of you – well, that's just your luck.â€

[DarthTofu]

OOC: Erm, what planet are you on, Krytos? I don't think you mentioned it....

 

 

IC: Another Vong soldier fell, smoke rising from the eyehole in his mask where what had previously been an empty socket retained after that eye was sacrificed had become a carbon-scorched hole leading directly to the warrior's brain.

 

I ran on as quickly as I could. The sewers were crowded, now- almost as crowded as the streets had been. They were dangerous, too. At least five of the people down there has already made a grab for my weapons; anything to fight the vong. I gave them weapons. Vibroblades. It wasn't my fault that they couldn't catch the electronic knives before they went through and punctured their jugular veins.

 

But that was in the past. I was running, now. Or rather, I was still running. A thud bug crunched against the wall to the right of my head. It made to come out of the small crater it had created in the aged curacreet but a stab from one of the same vibroblades that had defended my heavy pistols dicouraged the motion, shredding both of its wings and leaving it to thrash out juices in the sewer water.

 

I glanced at the used vibroblade and noted that some of those some compound in the bug was eating away at the sharpened part with a vengance. A small rivulet decended toward my gauntletted hand, and rather than risk finding out whether the effect of that compound was the same on my armor as it was on my knife wasn't high on my to-do list. I dropped the blade with a splash and rounded a corner.

 

Another hunting part faced me, their ampistaffs still dripping blood from the remains of three smugglers- at least I thought they had numbered three in life - lay facedown in the murky water.

 

I swore for the third time in as many minutes and dived at the party headfirst, keeping my profile toward them narrow and experiancing a moment of pain as a thudbug skipped off of my armored head. I hit chest-first as the dead before me lay and was about to meet the same fate- for one of the warriors before me had already raised his ampistaff in a two-handed grip to impale me - when I fired the winch built into my jetpack. Designed to smash its way through ship hulls, the spike at the end had very little trouble penetrating Voduum Crab armor.

 

It entered just above the warrior's groin, errupting out his back and pulling shards of spine in its wake. With a sickening squelch the warrior's skull shifted downward to wrip through the skin that had held it since birth.

 

I dissengaged the grapple at its connection to my armor, leaving chord and hook behind but retaining the powerful launching equipment as I continued forward to grasp an access hatch into the next level down. I yanked it open forcably. The result was for all of the water- and all of the things floating in it- to begin a rapid decent toward the next level.

 

It dragged me with it seconds before an ampistaff came by in whip mode to spray venom in a broad area over where I'd been mere seconds ago.

 

The smugglers and a vong who I could only assume had been knocked off balance by their movement followed me into this new, deeper water. It came up to roughly two meters- more than deep enough to encompass my fairly short frame, but only enough to force the warriors behind me to wonder if they should be swimming or running in this level of water.

 

I chose to swim, trusting in the polloutted sewage to shield me from prying eyes and thudbugs. It proved more than capable of the former, but as the projectiles began to smash through the oily liquid around me I realized that it failed at the latter.

 

The bugs swam toward me, using what limited visibility they had to surround me and make a beacon of my progress. I swore for the fourth time in as many minutes and redoubled my efforts to make it out and back to my ship, assuming it hadn't been eleminated by Vong already.

 

After twelve seconds in which I was certain I'd find myself dead in the next I reached a ladder- a glorious, rusted, dimiutive ladder - leading back the way I came. I gripped it firmly and clawed my way back up, breathing shallow and quickly as I propelled myself to the hatch.

 

Another thudbug flew by, this one smacking me in the small of my back and locking the armor in the farthest position it could bend back. It hindered me for a moment, and that moment was quite nearly all that the warriors below me needed. I twisted the hatch open and, realizing that I didn't have enough time to climb to the surface, activated my jetpack, burning a limited amount of fuel, and sending me out of a wave of thudbugs and razorbugs. I kicked the hatch back down and locked it in place before removing a motion-sensative mine from my small arsenal of tricks and placing it on the hatch. I took off running through the sewers again, my only emotion a grim smile as I head the explosives detonate some distance behind me.

 

OOC: Okay, now I have to go do some homework... And restore feeling in my fingers.

[Krytos]

OOC: I'll be posting soon. I've been busy lately, and hoping that someone else would join the RP.

 

But, yeah, expect something soon

[Krytos]

Slowly, peacefully the green orb drifted through the heavens. Gracefully the planet orbited its sun. Day in, day out. For the planet there was nothing else, a simple existence in the galaxy. Another large mass to house life, sentient beings and the wonders that allowed creatures to pass straight into the heavens and move on to other great worlds.

It makes one wonder. What would this planet think? If it had a conscience, would it be in awe of what had become of the galaxy? Would it look at the small beings that mastered metal and electrons that learnt to fly? Would it be thankful for the beauty that so many worked to preserve, to enhance, to experience.

No. Not this planet. For this planet had a name, and it's name is Selvaris. And while, like all other planets it did not have a mind of its own, it would not be in awe. It would, in fact be saddened. Saddened by the fighting, by the war and by the constant death. For if planets basket in the beauty of the heaven in which they lived, they could only weep at the horrors that drifted through the vastness of space.

And that horror was the Yuuzhan Vong. And this war torn species had landed on Selvaris, and brought the war to her. Once nothing more than a backwater world, housing tourist resorts and depots, it was now bathed in the blood of hundreds who perished as the Vong landed their troops. Standing for what was right, their own freedom to live cost them that – their lives.

And now, draped in armour of white and wrapped in warships of metal, the few stood to protect the many. The daunting task hampered by those who would prefer to bask in money for a short time rather than fight, by those who allied themselves with the Vong, they still fought on. And they would fight until they could no more. Until they were no more.

 

“Not to shabby, if we get off this rock you should publish that,â€

[DarthTofu]

"Damn." I'd been beaten to my ship. Literally. A small Vong party had caught up with me on the way. It was composed entirely of human slaves with coral implants, and as a result they carried no weapons. Not wanting to waste my precious power packs, them being limited as it was, I engaged in hand-to-hand combat, an art I was more than proficient in. Sheer numbers had nearly overwhelmed me, though, and in the end I'd had to run rather than continue the engagement.

 

Now I'd arrived at my ship. It wasn't one of the stereotypical Skipspray Blastboats most had attributed to the Mandalorians thanks to Boba Fett. We were a migratory people, and as a result shared little by way of physical culture beyond our armor and justice systems. The rest- our military strategies, our ideologies, and our damned pride- that was a given in any of us.

 

My ship, unique though it had been, had been hit by refugees before I could make it. It was a small miracle in and of itself that it hadn't been completely destroyed with the rest of the elevated docking it had rested on, but I wasn't particularly in the mood for small miracles.

 

The small, modified blastboat I used for my travels had been relieved of several components- three of which were critical if I were to escape. One was the hyperdrive, another the navicomputer, and the third the inertial compensator. It was still good for atmospheric flight, fortunately, but I had no true desire to utilize that ability when coralskippers were still roaring overhead, chasing individual targets up and down the streets, smashing skyscrapers into dust.

 

I chose to leave it resting in a twisted pile of support beams and chunks of duracrete, re-sealed in the hope that any smugglers with the skills needed to penetrate the ship's security measures again would be off the planet by now.

 

I was going to have to lie low and find the necessary parts for my ship if I wanted to ever get off of this rock. In addition to that I’d need to find some other refugees to leave with so that they could soak up plasma fire while I left, increasing my chances of survival. That ultimately meant an organized resistance more than anything else. But where to find one? With the number of Vong sympathizers steadily increasing they weren’t exactly about to put up signs and stand on street corners soliciting their help.

 

So what? The most obvious course of action would be to simply form my own terrorist society on this world. I’d had plenty of experiences being ambushed, primarily by Micus, and as a result could plan them rather well. But that just created another problem which was the same I’d faced before: How, exactly, would I be recruiting for this new resistance cell?

 

There the answer would appear to be to merely lie low, hide out where I could see the Vong, but the Vong could not see me, and wait for another group to attack them. Depending on if the attack was successful or not I could join with the group, or bring the survivors back together under my command.

 

Problem number one out of the way, but two still remained: I needed to find those parts appropriate for my ship, and I also needed to find a place to stay while this was all going on. The latter two issues could likely be tied to the first, but the second issue would need to be resolved before any of the others could.

 

I ruled out my ship as a place of refuge- both myself and the ship were mandatory for my plan, but I could survive if the ship was destroyed. As it stood, it was a higher-profile target for the Vong, and they would likely hit it if it weren’t hidden properly. If they did and I was inside I was dead.

 

Thus I needed to be somewhere the Vong weren’t about to look- somewhere they’d consider too sacred to invade, maybe. Or perhaps even something they’d fear entering? No, this race had almost no fear. They would no worry over entering some place, be it Nal Hutta’s or their own. The sewers were also out. Overrun as they were with refugees they would be a prime target. Besides, I’d already seen the ability of the hunting parties present there.

 

So where? I needed to be somewhere that either featured no machinery, was alive, or was so well-hidden that no one could possibly find it, save for myself.

 

“Your in Nar Shadda, for pity’s sake, Krassus, think!â€

[Krytos]

OOC: Bah, you're not meant to post so soon Now I've got to start thinking of another post

Come on people! Join up! Easy RP, just jump in and DO SOMETHING! You needn't interact with other RPers, just come in and post. Be part of the doom and gloom that is the Yuuzhan Vong invasion!

 

Just sign on the dotted line: .............

 

Come on, you now you want to (Where's that pic of Vader and the sign saying: Join the Darkside, we've got cookies)

 

@Tofu ... as if there's someone else: Bah, keep things interesting, new characters, places, people and secrets etc.

[Mitth_raw_nuruodo]

OOC: I need to go work on a take-home quiz for my statistics class, then I'll come back and work out a post. Good work guys.

[DarthTex]

OOC: Come on, you now you want to (Where's that pic of Vader and the sign saying: Join the Darkside, we've got cookies).

Here you go K ...

 

http://img125.imageshack.us/img125/6041/darthvadercookieslu1.jpg

 

Enjoy!

[Krytos]

OOC: Thanks Tex

 

@Mitth: Take your time, we're in no hurry

[Mitth_raw_nuruodo]

That's good. My schedule yesterday kinda got screwed up. I'll get around to joining in sometime. I didn't want to before because I was just barely lurking around the site. I think I'm back on a much more permanent basis now.

[DarthTofu]

OOC: Ooo, you want to know about Micus? I'll tell you this much: His name is derived from Latin (Just because I like to think that I'm intellectual on occassion) and comes from the words amicus and innimicus. The former means friend and the latter means enemy, part of his dual nature which shall arrise if this ever gets going! I have some fun plans for this...

[Krytos]

The armour clad soldiers slowly crept along the jungle floor. Once white armour painted in various shades of green, camouflaging them with the surrounding foliage. Slowly, the squad of soldiers reached the edge of the jungle giving them a concealed view into the remains of one of the main villages.

Peering through electro-binoculars, Lt. Carnor surveyed the area. There was a large, open area before the town. Flat and barren, it lasted at least a kilometre before the first building of the town. A perfect kill zone. And a kill zone created by those who lived on the planet, wanting their little township to remain neat and tidy.

Neat and tidy and a pain in the butt. A kilometre to cross, with no cover. Carnor cursed under her breath. They'd painstakingly taken two days to cross terrain that took a quarter of the time, all in the name of avoiding contact with the enemy.

“Contacts? Anyone?â€

[DarthTofu]

OOC:

Me: Hmm, I think I'll get some homework done, now. Just a quick troll of the forums, first...

 

Krytos: Hmm, I think I'll post an update to the RP today.

 

Me: Damn it, Krytos! I have homework! How inconsiderate of you not to read my mind from half way around the globe and realize that!

[DarthTofu]

This world is nothing. A hive of scum and villany; nothing. So thought Karat Sal as he decended to the surface, not in one of the drop ships utalized by the other warriors, but in one of the vessels the infidels referred to as coralskippers. One month previously the planet had been conquered, its citizens slashed open and sacrificed to the gods in extravegant numbers, heedless of the fact that these sacrifices were unworthy cowards. Those worthy of sacrificial death were likely already dead, if those who utalized the infidels' weapons could ever be worthy of sacrifice in the first place.

 

While the world was in all truth Nas Choka's, it was in fact a planet, and this place formerly known as Nar Shadda was Karat Sal's. He narrowed his eyes as he inspected the buildings there, at once satisfied and disgusted. The new mosses the shapers had brought were adapting very well to these durocrete skyscrapers- they had started to take root, and already one of the smaller buildings was nearly covered in a fuzzy, black-and-dark-green vegetation. The rest, however, stood strong. Some of the materials used in making these infrastructures, as the infidels called them, were resisting the growths. The material they called transparisteel was particularly resistant to currosion, and was only leaving the machine world as the false rock around it succummed to the corrosive effects of the moss.

 

Other monstrosities abounded as well. Below, in the very streets of the still-being-refitted Hutt Palace that had once dominated this part of the city, a number of infidels in a disgusting array of what they claimed to be armor- more a sick immitation of Vondum Crab Armor, in Karat Sal's opinion- were fighting, shooting at anything and everything that moved, which sometimes included their own soldiers.

 

Sal landed on the upper surface of the Hutt Palace and removed his cognition hood. He waited for the creature that encased him to unfold itself around him to open, then uncoiled his amphistaff. He applied firm preassure to the creature's spinal column, snapping it into its ridgid form. He twirled the beast experimentally before snapping it to a stop against his forearm in a manner reminescant of the mighty Shedao Shai.

 

With that he leapt from the building- a full twenty meters to the next tier of the ruined Hutt Palace- and landed with a heavy thump. Argent torment traversed his legs upon his landings, and it felt as though he may well have managed to crack one of the three bones that traced through his calf. No matter. There were two more, and the pain brought him closer to the gods. He smiled. Closer to the gods could be percieved in one of two manners. The first was honorable fealty to the gods; sacrifice, the Embrace of Pain, a religious life and the like. The next was through death, the reunion with the gods.

 

Regardless of the outcome of the coming duel, one group or the other would be facing the gods in a few moments. He dropped from his present tier to the next one down- this one a mere ten meters- and finally to the last one. His right leg burned in protest, but he merely embraced the pain. Were the pain not wanted by the gods, why would it exist?

 

He frowned at his mental statement as he ducked behind a yorik coral barricade his troops were using, absentmindedly opening his bandolier of thud and razor bugs. Were it not wanted by the gods, why would it exist? Could the same not be said of the infidels, of their machines? Of the Jeedai that Warmaster Tsavong Lah so fervently hunted? Karat Sal shook his head once, hard, then lept above the barricade to throw a razor bug. It slashed through a fleshy receptor on the head of a lucky rodian before lodging itself in the left of a far-less-lucky Trandoshan.

 

It made to exit its victem- who still spurted blood, thrashing in agony, and revealing parts of its brain- when a vibroblade stabbed through bug and mind, ending the actions of both.

 

Karat Sal locked eyes with the human who had killed his companion and raised his amphistaff, bellowing out a cry of challenge. The human returned his bellow in the infidel tongue and charged, most likely because Karat Sal- like his oponents- bore no armor at the moment. Then, he did not need armor. Not for battles of such low calliber.

 

Sal vaulted the barricade, purposely placing all weight on his injured leg when he fell. Both hands raised over his head, he charged the human. His opponent wielded his shorter infidel weapon in a low stance, far from his body, with the point of the blade describing the point of a right triangle encompassing his shoulders, naval, and weapon. The infidel never stood a chance.

 

Before the human was even in range, Karat Sal's amphistaff was hissing for blood, and by the time they were both within their respective ranges the human's head was split down the middle- indeed, down to where his heart would be, had he a god-given heart in the center of his chest as the Yuuzhan Vong did. With a meaty thump! the creature fell, and with his death so came the scattering of the resistance. Most of the fighters fled, with a few honorable ones choosing a worthy fight to the death.

 

Sal signaled to his warriors to stop their fighting, and advanced evenly to the center of where the fighting had been moments earlier.

 

"Infidels!" he shouted. The infidels looked at him, but quizically. The word "infidel" was clearly not one within their vocabulary. He tried again. "Unworthy ones! We honor you by dishonoring ourselves! It has been long since I have fought a worthy opponent! I would face you in single, honorable combat to the death!" Their quizical looks continued. When the reazon for those looks came to Karat Sal it was like being bashed in the head by several thudbugs. The infidels did not speak the language of the gods, nor in some cases even the language of most of the infidels. They spoke a blasphemous tongue, one which the gods could never hear.

 

A moment of clarity came to Sal, and he nodded. The gods could not understand these abominable creations, perhaps through some trick of Yun Harla, slicing their tongues and remoddeling them. It was not the gods' will that these creatures existed- they existed solely because the gods did not understand them, and would not deprive the Yuuzhan Vong of their great battles in taking the galaxy.

 

When none of the infidels advanced, Karat Sal signalled his warriors to resume their attack. Ten of the twelve who had remained behind were felled in an instant, but two- including the Rodian Sal had wounded upon his entering the engagement- were still alive and firing. Between the two of them they even managed to fall one of Karat Sal's warriors, burning a hole in his Vondum Crab armor.

 

Sal advanced on the two of them, weaving his way through their machine fire and dodging the weapons hurled by his own troops. With a latteral swing he seperated the unwounded fighter into two pieces in a roughly 1:2 ratio. The second, the Rodian, recieved a return swing for his face. The Rodian ducked the blow, however, and lost his other sensor node in the process upon finding that he was not quite quick enough.

 

The Rodian raised his indidel blaster to fire at Sal's exposed midsection, but the Yuuzhan Vong warrior paid him no mind. He continued his slash, once more applying pressure to his amphistaff. The creature became pliant before striking the Rodian in the face upon its completion of a one hundred and eighty degree turn.

 

Mortally wounded, the Rodian fell back in agony, dropping his blaster to free his hands as they desperately attempted to staunch the flow of blood from his ruined face. Sal left him there to die, before turning to his warriors to subject them to a long diatribe on their shortcomings in letting the enemy come this close to the new capital of the Hutt world. He would have done so as well, were it not for the sudden appearance of a large, flaming-red triangle ship in the sky.

 

OOC: Yes, it is the Erant Venture. No, it will not play any important role in my bit beyond supplying weaponry to the resistance, as well as an old favorite character of mine. You'll have to wait to find out who that is, though. Hope anyone following this is enjoying it. BTW: I'm on the last four pages of The Unifying Force right now. Finally, I'm almost done with the series! Haha! All nineteen books, almost all of them in a row, in fact, though not in chronological order. Only ones I didn't reread were Vector Prime, Agents of Chaos I: Hero's Trial (Or rather, the last quarter of the book), Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse, and Balance Point. Didn't read Prime or Balance Point because they both suck hair wookie balls, didn't read the Agents of Chaos duology because I got the books I hadn't read before I finished with 'em.

[Paul]

I like this even though I am indifferent to Vong stuff. - Grand Moff Conway

[Krytos]

OOC: Very nice Tofu! You've raised the bar on RP writting quality since the days of Stella Magic.

Crap .. now I've got to compete

[DarthTofu]

OOC: Very nice Tofu! You've raised the bar on RP writting quality since the days of Stella Magic.

Crap .. now I've got to compete

 

Heh- You and Steller are still leaps and bounds ahead of me, Krytos! Well, Steller is. You're only leaps ahead of me. You'll have to up the quality if you want bounds ahead of me. Thank you for the compliment, though.

 

NOW WRITE!!!!1oneeleveneleventyone!

[Krytos]

OOC: My reply won't be coming for a little while yet I'm affraid. I won't have chance to even think about it until the weekend (hopefully I'll have Office 2007 Ultimate by then too - $75, how can you go wrong? )

[Krytos]

OOC: Ok, so I may have killed this thread a while back..but, better late than never! So, here's a post.

 

Revenge. Revenge was a powerful motive.

General Amfran thought to himself as he stood on the bridge of his Nebula class Star Destroyer, Rosetta. The Star destroyer was the more abundant sister design to the Defender, armed with 80 high powered, fast tracking turbolasers, 20 ion cannons and 8 assault concussion missile launchers with a heavily armoured hull and shields more powerful than that of an ISD II. Supporting the powerful warship was a hanger housing 3 fighter squadrons with addition support craft in storage. More than enough to give the 1 kilometre warship the ability to stand against any formidable flotilla.

 

But when will my revenge take place? How much longer will I have to wait?

 

The General paced the bridge anxiously. The Rosetta lay hidden within the atmosphere, of the dark side of the moon orbiting Selvaris as a small flight of fighters and a surveillance shuttle peared around space for enemy forces. Falling recently to the Vong and being lightly defended by the New Republic, any ships left over from the initial invasion would be mediocre compared to the single Star Destroyer.

Easy prey and an easy hurt. I’ll have to find something bigger to kill later.

 

Amfran’s train of thought was broken as three white clad figures marched onto the bridge. Two, wore white armoured vests and open helmets reminiscent of Republic and Imperial fleet troops. The third was completely covered in white armour, including a full faced plated helmet. As the three stopped in front of him, the full clad soldier removed his helmet. With a depressurising hiss, and moving the lower section of the helmet forwards he removed the helmet revealing the greeny blue flesh behind it.

 

“Greetings General.â€

[UlicHorn]

OOC: Um, I wouldn't mind jumping in. Would someone like to give me a bit of an update?

[DarthTofu]

OOC: Sure thing, Ulic. This RP is set during the Yuuzhan Vong war. People on planets throughout the galaxy stage retaliatory efforts to try to overthrow the Yuuzhan Vong. You can create a character who's a leader, a character who's a follower, anything, just so long as they resist the Vong who control the planet.

 

You can also make 'em loners if you want, tough guys. Presently Krytos is writing his surrounding a group of soldiers stranded on Selvaris, wheras I have an exhiled Mandalorian Protector on Nal Hutta, who really couldn't care less about anything Mandalorian (IE Honor, dying well, etc.)

 

Your character can be whoever you want, can be wherever in the galaxy you want, and can interact with other people's characters or not. Just make sure that it's okay with whoever's writing for those characters that you bump in and interact with them.

 

Let's see, anything else? Oh, yes- I asked that we try to limit ourselves on use of Force-users in this RP. Zoot Wars got a tad crowded with them (I sort of assumed we were all supposed to be Jedi) thus I wanted to reduce clutter, especially since there were only an odd hundred or so to begin with, and their numbers dropped drastically.

 

Granted, I've found a loophole around my own directives, but I'm evil, so it's alright.

[DarthTofu]

OOC: Urk! Double post! I hate doing a double post, but I finished my stuff for the next update, thus... Yeah. Here you go:

 

IC:

I was asleep when the roof exploded. Part of my mind was still sleep-deprived, and as a result I was more focused on whether or not I wanted another bowl of grayweave than how to deal with the threat that was likely to present itself from whatever had just smashed the ceiling of the crematorium.

 

I rose from my bedding of black ash and staged a bit. I’d taken a thud bug to my left knee at the joint, right across the side. The joint had bent in a manner it wasn’t meant to, though thankfully had not broken. It still hurt tremendously, though, and had me on the heaviest painkillers I’d been able to salvage. Nal Hutta had never possessed the money for an abundant flow of bacta, so most of its pharmaceutical products were lower in quality, though there were some reports of an ancient kolto supply hidden somewhere. None of that mattered, though, because I was hungry.

 

I staggered over to the kitchen. It had previously served the same purpose for the small family who worked in the crematorium, though they now composed my bed of ashes for refusing to let me in. I couldn’t have that, and had taken the place by force. I respected them for making a brave stand against me, though, and as a result I’d seen fit to dispose of their bodies properly. Their bravery, however, did not make up entirely for their lack of fighting skills, thus a lack of proper disposal.

 

As I walked by I noticed a large brown furry thing emerging from a blackened crater in the floor, coughing heavily and looking amazed to see me. In retrospect I probably did look genuinely odd: I was still wearing my chest plate, bracers, helmet, gauntlets, paladins, and boots, but had removed my greaves, leaving my thighs exposed, a tangled mass of black hair over pale skin right in the middle of a black-and-silver suit of Mandalorian Protector armor, with only an undergarment preserving my dignity.

 

I walked past him all the same and activated the grayweave machine, not bothering with a bowl and merely sticking my head underneath the spigot and spraying the slop directly into my mouth, lifting my helmet just enough to expose my mouth and a few millimeters of beard-covered upper lip, but no more. It tasted vaguely like rotting wood, with a felt-like texture that suggested a thick deposit of mold or fungus on that wood taste.

 

“Umm, excuse us…â€

[Paul]

OOC: Good post Tofu. - Grand Moff Conway

[Krytos]

OOC: This was meant to be short

 

IC: The dagger shaped warship lunged into the enemy lines head first, the way the ship was designed. With no true front section, a Star Destroyer could bring almost twice the firepower of the ship’s broadside to bear in front of it - making a straight forward attack blissfully painful for their opponents.

 

“Enemy status?â€