[GJWXIII] Odan-Urr Run On

(Aurora "Aura" Ta'var) #1

Primary Theater: Moon of Thillon

PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Eliminate the Collective presence and prevent the Collective from acquiring the kyber crystals, securing them for the Brotherhood, or your Clan, instead.

SITUATION: When the Collective discovered kyber crystals on Thillon’s moon, they moved quickly to seize them. They quickly and easily ‘convinced’ Temnos Excavations Co., the sole private mining company operating on the moon to yield their rights to mining, but have not yet transported any of the already mined kyber crystals out of the mining colony. Inquisitorius agents report that the Collective intends to divert kyber crystals mined on Thillon to its secret weapons program which the Inquisitorius believes is focused on developing ship-mounted superlaser arrays. As such, the Collective have established a strong military presence including elements of Battle Group Elysium in orbit around the Moon of Thillon and a ground Battalion that reconnaissance suggests includes at least one Heavy Armor Company. Given the strategic importance of the kyber crystals, there may be key scientists and agents of the Technocratic Guild on-site with valuable knowledge of the Collective’s secret weapons program. The Collective is likely to aggressively engage Brotherhood forces that enter the area. As Thillon is operated by an independent contractor and not the Principate government itself, there is no Principate military presence, but there is a sizable private security force of around fifty officers in the employ of Temnos Excavations along with many civilian employees living in dormitories associated with the mining complex whose safety would be important to the Principate, and who could be at risk of joining the Collective given recent events in Lyra.

Member Participant Snapshots:

Aura Ta’var
Celevon Erinos
Len Iode
Tisto Kingang
Ka Tarvitz
Sa Ool
Zanothi Nightblade
Gülvyr Okami - Alt for Morgan Sorenn
Hedda Okami - Alt for Morgan Sorenn
Kasula Daegella
Ysera Daegella- Alt for Kasula Daegella
Creshkin Vos
Fifot Inoufas
Vez Hirundo

Links and Resources

Lyra System
GJWXIII Fiction 1
Clan Run On Competition
Theater Combatants

(Aurora "Aura" Ta'var) #2

The Dawnblade, a Carrack-class light cruiser, orbited around the Moon of Thillon, its ugly facade full of craters and not much else of note despite a singular mining facility. Yet it was the treasures underneath that dragged Odan-Urr all the way to Lyra 3K-A, where rumors of kyber crystals had lured more than one strange vessel to the system. A steady stream of ships orbited the moon waiting for shipments while fully loaded ships made a beeline for open space through any gap in the space traffic that presented itself. Several larger escape vectors had emerged thankfully, thicker veins of traffic that hinted at what had once been orderly imperial shipping lanes. Some blamed the foreigners who zipped to and fro with their faster escort fighters, ignorant of the imperial traffic patterns. Some blamed the more heavily armed ships for spooking local pilots used to refurbished, antique freighters. Some simply blamed the slowly moving gridlock of waiting ships slowly cycling around the moon.

Whatever it was, the seasoned convoy runners ferrying raw materials off of the moon could not help but gossip and bemoan the general disorder as they recounted their close calls and minor scraps. A group of SeNet operatives onboard the Dawnblade were already listening carefully to the conspiracy theories on the comm channels and keeping a watchful eye on a pair of Lancer-class frigates that stuck out for their sheer amount of laser turrets, thankful for the other escort craft of similar size that allowed them to continue their intel operation unharassed.

Regardless, Aura Ta’var, High Councillor of Odan-Urr, slowly paced the bridge of the light cruiser. Their trading envoys had yet to return for what should have been straightforward negotiations for the kyber crystals. She had even sent a member of her crew, Creshkin Vos, who could sympathize with the Severian Principate in the hopes that they would bond over their mutual bad experiences with slavery. In addition, he was being escorted back and forth in the Damsels’ Distress, a VCX-100 Light Freighter piloted by the talented Daegella sisters, Kasula and Ysera. All this was to ensure that the Collective would not acquire the crystals. It was not hard to imagine the horrible things they could do with them. The Empire made a weapon out of them, after all.

The Zeltron walked over to a station occupied by Sa Ool, a Force Disciple skilled in the art of intelligence gathering. The Kel Dor was hunched over his comm equipment, pausing here and there to make a note in his datapad.

Aura tapped him on his shoulder. “Sa, any news on the Damsels’ Distress? They’re late checking in.”

“Nothing from the team yet but we’ve gotten plenty of great intel for SeNet on the Severian Principate while we’ve been waiting. Nothing out of the ordinary from the pair of Lancers. Either it’s an ordinary ship or its masking its presence and its part of the Collective. In any case, it hasn’t found us yet,” he replied.

“Worried about the kyber crystals or what might show up to take them?” asked Len Iode, the Chiss walking up to stand behind them.

“Both. I have a bad feeling about something. I just can’t quite place it yet.”

The Chiss simply nodded reassuringly and gestured for them to walk towards the nearest ready room. Inside was a range of hardened warriors from all walks of life eagerly conversing over the notes from the day’s mission brief. She saw her Proconsul, Celevon Erinos in deep discussion with the other Mandalorians named Gülvyr and Hedda. Their distinctive armor colors marked them as part of the Okami Clan. Ka Tarvitz and Zanothi Nightblade were close by, debating the practicality of space combat as a form of a lighthearted joke to lighten the tension.

“Look. They’re fine. They are ready for the mission.” Len consoled the Zeltron quietly without drawing attention to themselves. “We get the kyber crystals and get out. If we find any Collective forces along the way, we take them out. We have two squadrons of A-wings, including Tython Squadron waiting closeby if we need them. Don’t worry about—”

Comm chatter instantly silenced the room.

“Dawnblade, this is Damsels’ Distress. The Collective have found us. We are being chased by starfighters. Request immediate assistance!” said one of the Daegella twins.

Celevon Erinos, Councillor of War, rushed out of the briefing room and quickly approached a weapons officer. “Report.”

“The Damsel is being pursued by several X-wings and is getting some unwanted attention from the locals. Want me to provide cover fire?”

“Don’t want to blow our cover yet,” replied the half-Echani. “Tython and Banshee squadrons, engage the enemy fighters.”

“Coming in hot,” replied Tisto Kingang.

The High Councillor reached out to the Force, the earlier unease only growing. She could hear the bridge crew barking out the position of enemy fighters. SeNet agents were reporting some troubling comms from the space freighters. To make things worse, the pair of lancer frigates were getting closer to them. The only thing not falling apart was the fact that the Severian Principate had yet to call in their fleet. Celevon could be heard barking orders again.

“Damsels’ Distress, once you’re free of the fighters, make for the mining colony and get those kyber crystals. We’re running out of time!”

(Len Iode) #3

Aura broke from the hazy vision. “Everyone to your stations!”

The Zeltron started towards the exit.

“What did you see?” Len asked with a hint of worry in his voice, following close behind.

“Let’s not worry about that yet.” The High Councilor entered the bridge, which was now a flurry of activity. Technicians were relaying orders via voice, text, and sending alerts to the proper decks. Their voices blended together, only snippets were clear.

“Thirty seconds to weapons ready—”

“—range, 10,000 km; bearing zero-one-three mark—”

“—Negative Tython Leader, vector to point zero-nine—”


The last one made the whole bridge silent, save the computers and droids humming along.

Cel and Len both sprinted to the station from where they were as Aura opened herself to the Force.

Len reached the station first. “Repeat Petty Officer?”

“The craft was barely visible on scopes, trying to clean up the signal…” The technician’s fingers were a blur over the keyboard as she applied various filters and layered scans from other departments.
“There!” The War Councilor pointed to the screen, “Quadjumper?”


The ship’s master tones sounded, Aura’s voice was steady. “Attention all hands, brace for impact!”

The half-Echani joked, “Would have been nice to know before—”

The ship bucked, violently throwing those not in seats from their feet. The Chiss landed hard on his right shoulder, searing pain coursing through the muscle. Cel faired better, catching himself with his hands at the last second.

“Report?” the Zeltron in charge requested as though it was another ale at the cantina.

The Damage Control officer was resetting his earpiece, data pouring across his screen. “Central cargo hold reads as vacuum. Damage to the emergency batteries, in the same section. Power surge detected in the backup power grid. Uncontained fires in the fore and rear cargo hold. Suppression system not responding and fire is now entering the engine compartment. ”

“Send teams down to contain the aft fire and rescue the wounded.” Aura looked to the injured and shocked personnel around her. “Send medical teams up here too.”

“Can’t ma’am. Turbolifts are down as well.”

“Terrific. Send them through the maintenance corridors, if you have to.”

The officer nodded and set out to his tasks. Cel helped Len to his feet. “Good news I assume?”

“No turbolifts. Uncontrolled fires, you know the usual. Are you and Len alright?”

“No worse for wear,” the Second in Command replied.

“Just a pull.” The Councilor of the Roll winced and rubbed his injured shoulder. “I just need to stretch. Check some of the other techs, they’re worse off than me.”

A loud banging sound emanated from the bridge turbolift doors and a small gap appeared as the hatch partially opened. The metal top of the turbocar was about a meter and a half from the bridge deck. A tattooed green hand reached its way into the command center. The War Councilor grabbed the hand which belonged to Vez Hirundo, one of the new contractors hired to help search for more artifacts like the Technocratic Artifact.

“There’s one more down below. One of yours, Aurora,” the mercenary reported, “Lucky the emergency brakes held.”

Once again the half-Echani reached into the dark pit of the passenger compartment of the turbolift and this time produced one of the newest Odanites, Novice Fifot. The human dusted himself off once up. “Thank you sir. We were worried that no one would hear us.”

“High Councilor,” the helm called, “My controls aren’t responding.”

Damage control cut-in, despair entering his voice. “Ma’am, we have lost all contact with the engine room.”

“Back up control is not responding,” The helm officer looked back, “We have nothing.”

The Chiss officer walked over to the helm, still nursing his right arm. “Switch to emergency thrusters.”

The helm officer activated the last control system of the ship. “Online, but we only have one minute of burn time.”

(Essik Lyccane) #4

“Options?” Len asked.

“Our orbit is decaying rapidly, sir,” the helm officer replied, focusing upon his task and the craggy grey surface of Thillon filling the viewport, “It’s not a case of if we’ll hit it so much as when right now.”

Already those on the bridge could feel the subtle pull of the moon below them fighting against the Dawnblade’s artificial gravity, dragging the ship toward its surface. Small items scattered by the kamikaze strike shuddered and shifted slightly, pulled about by the conflicting forces. From somewhere far behind them, the hull groaned like the call of some vast aquatic animal, it’s already abused surface straining as the moon pulled them into its thin atmosphere.

“If we’re going to land, we might as well aim for somewhere useful,” Aura said, pointing toward a trio of silver-grey artificial halos which surrounded the main mining shaft of the facility, “Do you think you can land us just outside of there?”

“I can certainly try, sir,” the helm officer answered, as his hands danced over the controls of the console before him, “It won’t be an easy landing but, if we’re lucky, we might be able to ditch the ship somewhere near the bigger craters.”

Part of the viewport was abruptly obscured by a new image, as a projection of the cruiser’s flight path was layered over the transparasteel, accompanied by the locations of the approaching Lancer frigates. The steep dive of their path made it clear, even to those without any detailed experience in flying larger vessels, that this was going to be a close matter.

“Do whatever you can,” Celevon said, “Don’t wait for our approval on every action, just try to keep us alive while we still have a ship to stand in.”

As if to emphasise his point, the deck plating of the bridge suddenly shuddered, accompanied by the distant thump of something small exploding far below them.

Leaving the crew to their work, Len approached one of the wall-mounted comlinks, keying in a broadcast to the rest of the ship. “All hands, this is the Rollmaster. Brace for collision.”

The Dawnblade’s descent was neither graceful nor controlled. Leaving a trail of metal debris and crystallizing atmosphere from where the Quadjumper’s suicide attack had punched through its side, the cruiser dropped like a stone. Diving prow-first toward the planet, the Carrack tumbled away from the pair of Lancer frigates closing in, each scattering the ship’s escorting A-Wings with pinpoint blasts from their turrets. Most fled into the lower atmosphere, while others pulled back into high orbit, distracting the frigates as the Carrack attempted its crash-landing.

Fire sparked in split-second bursts across the Dawnblade’s hull, its thrusters allowing for small course corrections as the ship picked up speed. Other flames could be seen on the edges of its broken skin, where the fires raging across its lower decks leapt out into the airless void; each momentarily carried out by wisps of oxygen before they were snuffed out of existence. Plunging through the defensive shield even as it was raised, the mine’s sole defense against attacks from larger craft, the Dawnblade came in low over the crater strewn face of the moon.

Spluttering bursts from its thrusters became seconds long flames accompanied by several airlock doors opening and using the pressure to momentarily shunt the ship away from the surface. Kicking up a storm of dust in its wake, the Dawnblade struck like a gouging spear, carving a deep trench in its wake before finally coming to rest on the fringes of the mining facility.

Silent alarms sounded across the mine, calling its defenders to arms against the new intruder. All eyes were on the newly wrecked Carrack, leaving broad-nosed Damsel’s Distress free to land with little attention or disruption near the kyber mine.

(Morgan B. Sorenn) #5

Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
Amidships, Corridor 1-A

The impact sent Gülvyr and Hedda tumbling toward the main corridor connecting the forward and aft sections. Despite the warning and their efforts to hold on, the impact rattled their bones and slammed them against the ceiling and walls. Moments flew by as they felt the ship crawl to a halt as they stood and braced against the walls, finding purchase in the protruding illumination banks that lined the vertical surface.

Lights flickered and artificial gravity gave out momentarily. As he felt his full weight return, Gülvyr swiftly opened the comm channel. “Bridge! Anyone alive up there?”

“Affirmative.” Len spoke up first, audibly grunting into his comm unit. “We had a little tumble.”

“What is our situation?” the no-nonsense Mandalorian didn’t mince words, instead looking for solutions to their predicament.

“Sending data to everyone now. Check your wrist comm.” Gülvyr’s wrist-mounted holo displayed an image of the Carrack cruiser laying dead on the surface of the Moon of Thillon. It had broken through the shield with enough force to shatter it. That was likely the initial impact that sent them tumbling. They were several hundred yards from the facility and sitting on a giant target for the Collective Frigates above.

“We have to get away from this ship,” Hedda said through their shared channel.

Gülvyr agreed and so too, it seemed, did the High Councilor and the bridge crew. “We have a path plotted towards the facility which will take us around the larger craters to provide cover,” Aura said over the comm, overruling Len. As she did so a red holographic line arched from the ship, through the landscape, and into the facility. “The internal comms in the stern are down and we can’t reach the crew there. There are space suits throughout the ship, so find the people in the back, get out, and meet us on the surface.” She ordered before the comms died with another flicker of the lights.

“The ship is losing power.” Hedda commented as they shared a look through their visors.

“We must hurry.”

Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
One deck above the hangars

Lights flickered furiously overhead as Tarvitz grabbed his head for the umpteenth time, the pain subsiding with some effort on his part. He had banged his head when the ship struck the surface, much like everyone else in his group. The tail end of the ship slammed into the moon first, he was sure, because nothing of the hangars below or the cargo holds and engine compartments in the ventral stern sections survived. Much of the crew in those compartments were, Tarvitz presumed, crushed and didn’t survive. Whoever he found on his way back towards the bridge he had picked up. Sa Ool, his mask still covering his mouth despite minor damage, dragged himself next to the human.

“Communications are down,” the Kel Dor stated with assurity.

“I suspected.” Tarvitz had not managed to contact anyone over his short-range personal communicator but a few crew members. The signal would not penetrate.

“Do we go to the bridge?” Fifot piped in as he rounded the corner before joining the pair. He grunted as he saw the wrecked turbolift door and the damaged corridor now venting air into space through the door right in front of him. So far they had found several damaged in such a way that they had to avoid them through maintenance tubes.

“I say we find an airlock with suits and try our luck on the surface.” Zanothi added, following Fifot closely behind. Several members of the crew followed him and leaned against bulkheads and viewports to catch their breath.

The suggestion seemed insane, but what else could they do at that point. Tarvitz assumed that whatever had grounded them in the first place, Principate or Collective, was surely still above them, and the Dawnblade was a fine target.

“Right, we should be one deck below an airl—” Loud echoes of jetpacks broke him off. They were coming from the turbolift shaft.

“—should step away.” The stern female voice of Hedda carried through Tarvitz’s open comm. “Step away, now.” Just as several of the crew members stepped away from the door, the plasma torch started cutting.

Carrack-class Cruiser Dawnblade
Airlock 02, Prow section

Aura felt uncomfortable in her space suit, it was stuffy and pinched around the joints. For what it was, however, it felt fairly sturdy. She observed what remained of her bridge crew as they checked their gear one last time. With a nod, each person gave the go-ahead as Len pulled decompression lever. Soon the door was open and they looked out into the darkness of space only contrasted by the dull gray of the Moon of Thillon stretching to the horizon.

Celevon jumped first, nearly twenty feet from the dust and rocks. He landed hard, but found his balance and straightened. The moon’s gravity certainly gave him a feathery fall. He nodded to the others and, one by one, they followed. Aura turned towards the aft of the cruiser, observing the damage. Much of the superstructure was buried or crushed. How many people had she lost by now? She had to have stopped counting.

“—’re outside. Bridg—we’re out—” A transmission came through on their comms channel, staticy and distorted.

“Repeat last,” Aura chimed back.

“I said we’re outside,” Tarvitz replied, clearer now. “Coming to you.”

(Sa Ool) #6

Moon of Thillon
Outside Dawnblade Wreckage

Chaos and destruction is what would be described later on in history with the wrecking of the Dawnblade. Looking around besides the wreckage of the Dawnblade and the dead bodies of their young comrades and crew members from the ship, one could see the mining facility in the distance showcasing how far they have to move to reach their objective. On one side of the ship, the damage looked like an orange that was peeled by a small stick at high speed striking it. With that damage there was almost no way to repair their ship.

“Okay guys, let’s move out and meet up with Aura’s group,” commanded the tall human Jedi known as Ka Tavitz.

“Keep an eye or two up above as there is still some nasties up there waiting to pick us apart, also stick as best as you can to cover.” Hedda advised the group as they started to head out.

Shutting off her com link after getting word from Tarvitz, Aura took a quick calming breath before turning around, looking at who was with her. She took a moment to memorize all the faces of those who were still alive while sending a quick prayer through the Force for those who had lost their lives in the collision.

“Len get on the comms and try to get a hold of Tisto and Tython Squadron, have them perform interception runs. We are not moving from this spot till Tarvitz and his group reaches us. Celevon try and contact the Damsel’s Distress and get a sitrep on them. Fifot and Vez take the troops we have and form a perimeter,” ordered the Zeltron female.

Orbit of the Moon of Thillon

“Ty…. ron…. Com…… In… perf…… Runs. Repe… perfo…… Inter…. Runs.” Came the static sounding voice of Len over the comms channel.

Tython Squadron was already in pursuit of enemy bombers and X-wings when the orders came in. Up in orbit, their comrades looked like ants frantically running around, disappearing behind cover intermittently to hide from aerial threats above them. Tisto’s A-wings followed Tython Squadron’s A-wings as the two squadrons dove down to engage them and clipped a few Collective fighters on the way but none were dealt lasting damage. With a display of fireworks and a loud boom, Tisto and a couple of other fighters took down a couple of enemy bombers with a simultaneous attack.

Ka Tarvitz and Sa Ool both felt it before seeing the debris fall down towards them. With a quick glance between the two they knew they were in sync with each other. Both yelled at everyone to get down as the two men quickly raised theirs arms. Coming from inside of them, they both asked the Force for help as they eyed some nearby plates of durasteel. While making sure their focus was on themselves and the Force they both moved some durasteel to cover them all to help protect them from the impact.

(Kasula Daegella) #7

VCX-100 Light Freighter “The Damsels’ Distress
Temnos Excavations Co. Mining Facility

“Damsels, we’re under fire. Need access to the facil-” the static-mixed voice of Len Iode once again demanded over the comms. Resisting the urge to deafen the Damsels’ inbound communications, Kasula adjusted the boom of her headset in-between a set of maneuvers. Without looking at the freighter’s starboard viewport, she could feel the pressurized waves of an exploding quadrijet bomber caught in the Damsels’ staccato laserfire.

“Listen, ‘mister commander, sir,’ we’re here running around some diplomat without the slightest idea on how a laser cannon works, let alone a sense of humor. Once we—”

“Veering left!” Ysera seized the Damsels’ controls from her console with practiced ease, gliding it around a durasteel structure rising from the moon’s surface. Although the VCX-100 managed to avoid a direct collision with the unfinished armature, she grimaced as its antennae scratched the paint off the hull.

“—once we’re at the hangar, we’ll blow the doors. Until then, bye-bye. Send kisses to Cel, I’m sure he would like—”

“Not to be the one to point it out, but I don’t think he’s listening,” Creshkin indicated as he wobbled into the cockpit, his stomach still cursing the lack of inertial compensation on the Daegella’s vessel.

Checking the comms against his observation, Kasula noted that Len had closed off his end of the connection and held her mouth agape in frustration. “That blue karking womp-rat!”

“Now, Kasula. We’ll have a lot of time to deal with ‘mister commander’ once we do what he wants.” Ysera consoled, lowering the frigate markedly close to Thillion’s surface, but on a direct course for the hangar—or more accurately, the hangar’s wall once she realized the main entrance had been sealed behind sheets of durasteel.

“Aim-for-brains, now might be a good time to suit up!” Ysera yelled back at Creshkin Vos, who was still holding onto whatever he could find to remain stable amid the Damsels’ twists and turns along Thillion’s surface.

“Damsels!” That’s a wall, you’ll depressurize the hangar!” a flickering image of the Chiss forewarned, with the silent promise of a military reprimand.

“We know that! It’s a moonbase, there’s more than one airlock.” Kasula argued back, getting quizzical looks from the Jedi behind her as he began fitting his pressurized suit.

“Well, that moonbase on Kessel didn’t.” Ysera teased after the image of Len faded.

Kasula looked over her shoulder, “All right, almost all moonbases have more than one airlock.”

Creshkin had just finished with checking the seal of his helmet before the Daegellas had sent him with Ysera to the Damsels’ cargo ramp, which was now lowering despite the vessel hovering airborne near the hangar’s wall. Ysera appeared beside him, her own flightsuit much less bulky than his own and coupled with a matching blue helmet with a yellow tinted visor.

In the Twi’lek’s hand, he noticed a small device, capped at one end with a red button that began to flash as she armed the seismic charge and handed it to him. “Know what this is?” she asked mockingly as she tossed it in his direction. Grabbing hold of it on reflex, Creshkin took a moment to feel the object’s weight before the panic of realization set in.

“Well don’t stare at it! Throw the karking thing!” Ysera hollered at him. Using the Force to hurl the object as fast, and as far as he could manage in near-zero gravity, Kreshkin braced himself to guard the Twi’lek from debris, if need be. He swore he could feel his ears pop when the seismic charge detonated against the hangar wall, sending duracrete scattering in most directions as the hangar depressurized. Kasula, at the Damsels’ helm shot the forward laser cannon into the explosion, vaporizing any debris that might damage the freighter into mere particles of dust and superheated gas.

“Bringing us in!” Kasula notified over comms while Creshkin ignited the blade of his lightsaber and charged off the Damsels’ loading ramp, using some of the hangar’s now-floating contents as a bridge into the mining facility. Scraps of metal, tools and assorted cargo transportation containers scraped alongside the Damsels’ Distress’ hull as it found a floor to land on. Outside the viewport, Kasula noted the insignia of a Brotherhood pilot’s uniform cartwheeling out of the hangar with the rest of its contents.

“‘Mister commander, sir,’” Kasula mumbled the chosen name through the comms channel, “Who did this moonbase belong to again? Don’t say Brotherhood, because otherwise Morgan is going to have us grounded for a week.”

Len Iode rubbed his temples. For the last time, it’s not a ‘moonbase.’ “Report?”

“Brotherhood uniforms, insignia—you get the gist, red-eyes.”

“Hmm,” Len mused. He had seen the reports of the supposed Brotherhood terrorist attacks, was it possible this was also a staging site? “We’ll evaluate the situation later. Do we have a door into the facility?”

“Define, ‘door.” Ysera snickered over the comms, “Still, we’re in, and it looks like the entire moonbase hasn’t depressurized, so we’ll be waiting inside. Hope you packed a spacesuit.”

“See?” Kasula remarked as she lowered the Damsels’ landing gear, “airlocks.”